#he makes a comment about how expensive a dog would be and takes off for an emergency

[spiderbeam]

LN4: HONEY, HONEY

pairing: lando norris x dog owner!reader

summary: you love your boyfriend. you also love your dog. the only problem? they don’t seem to get along quite as well as you’d hope

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 281,780 others

yourusername my two loves… flowers and honey 🌷

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yourusername also lando’s back home for the break!!!!!!

user1 …at least she has her priorities straight?

user2 roscoe and honey photoshoot WHEN

user3 at this point i’m just watching f1 for the dogs

user4 the dogs of the paddock > the drivers of the grid

user5 i think we got over that one pic of leo and honey wayy to quickly 🫶 leo looked TINY next to him they need to repeat it again PLEASE

user6 i fear i’m becoming a honey fan

user7 for a quick second i thought y/n’s nickname for lando was honey and i had to take a second there

landonorris what about the really fine n handsome n very cute guy that gave you the flowers?

yourusername he’s okay too i guess <3

landonorris just okay? :)

maxfewtrell oh my god mate get a room

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alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story:

oh my god look at his little face 🥺 i think now i understand why you don’t go to all the races 🫶

yourusername:

right?? he’s too big to travel so often and last time i left him with a sitter he got sick :( i would take him everywhere if i could though

maybe it’s a little silly but i feel guilty leaving honey on his own for too long 🥲

alexandrasaintmleux:

i get it!!! i think i’d be the same with leo if i couldn’t travel with him ☺️💗

lilymhe replied to your story:

ohh i know expensive flowers when i see them 👀 (also hi honey!!!!!! he looks adorable omg)

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alex_albon replied to your story:

HAHA this is too funny i’m taking a screenshot

oscarpiastri replied to your story:

what do you reckon are the odds of her adopting a fish instead

carlossainz55 replied to your story:

you were right. that dog hates you

also how is your girlfriend not seeing this?

landonorris:

……..i hid my stories from her

carlossainz55:

ay cabrón…. 🫤

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liked by landonorris, quadrant, and 245,921 others

yourusername sun sea and summer ☀️

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user8 hottest couple

user9 LANDO NORRIS AND Y/N L/N THE PAIR THAT YOU MAKE

user10 the honey content 🧡

user11 i fear you can’t just drop this without a warning

user12 my wife and her boyfriend

user13 my wife, her dog and her side piece <3

quadrant living the good life ☀️

user14 honey for quadrant merch WHEN

user15 @/user14 right?? like alex already launched a whole merch line for his pets why can’t lando do it too for his dog 🥺

user16 😭😭😭 he’s not lando’s dog ♥︎ liked by landonorris

user17 HELP not lando liking it

user18 what a great day to be bisexual

user19 is it me or are there like no lando and honey pics?

user20 now that you mention it…..

user21 no way that’s impossible right?? cause y/n had honey YEARS before she started dating lando

user22 that’s just not true i’m pretty sure i’ve seen pictures of lando with honey

user23 @/user22 ……no i spent a solid ten minutes looking there are actually NONE

user24 they’re my parents if you care

user25 do you guys think y/n’s ever called honey and lando has looked up and answered and she’s just talking to her dog 😭

user25 i can see this happening

maxfewtrell @/user24 yeah i can confirm it was painful to watch

landonorris @/maxfewtrell that is a LIE

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alex_albon replied to your story:

yeah i’m not gonna lie i’d forgive him too. good luck to you though

maxverstappen1 replied to your story:

lock your door

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landonorris replied to your story:

……..cats are better anyway

yourusername:

i’m breaking up with you

landonorris:

BABE IT WAS A JOKE I LOVE HONEY

yourusername:

honey doesn’t love you 🫤

landonorris:

i know that’s the problem ☹️

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landonorris replied to your story:

he’s literally trying to bite off my hand in that last one

yourusername:

baby steps 😇

a/n: had been working on this one for a while but i got distracted making franco fics 😭 hopefully u guys enjoyed <3

[cordeliawhohung]

i was wondering if i might be able to put in a request, if possible? simon riley mafia/guard dog vibes? i can absolutely expand with more ideas on that too if you’d like but just overall those vibes are amazing and your mafia works are immaculate ♡ ♡ ♡

sorry this took forever work was killing me lmao. but vibes are perfect! gives me a bit more freedom in writing. hope you enjoy (and thanks for getting me to write more mafia!au stuff lmfao) (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: violence, simon beats the fuck outta someone, crude comments, slight in limbo spoilers/foreshadowing but only if you squint? terrible cliches but oh well

It wasn't your first time seeing the glint of a knife in dark light, but it was your first time having a blade brandished at you in a threat.

Really, this was all your fault. Innocent intentions of wanting to bring your boyfriend some takeout from work was what got you caught in that mess, and had you been better at following instructions you would have been inside. Instead, you botched the directions to the VIP section the bouncer up front had given you, leading you into a trap straight out of a horror movie.

You had hardly gotten the chance to round the corner before this man, some wanna-be mugger, slapped your to-go box out of your hand. Still warm and fresh steak, along with a ridiculous amount of chips, flopped out of the container and onto the ground just as you felt your back collide with the wall next to you. Brick wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to have shoved against your spine, but it certainly beat the wicked curve of the knife that was used to threaten you.

Everything in you urged you to run away, to scream, to fight, to do something, and yet all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. The only thing you could focus on was the man's eyes, and how he glared at you so sharply you were certain he could kill you with his gaze alone. He pointed the knife closer to you with his other hand outstretched, waiting for it to be filled.

"Are you fucking deaf?" the man snarled. "I told you to hand over your shit."

Those were the first words that fully registered in your brain, and you couldn't get your voice to cooperate. Your hands raised in an attempt to put some more distance between you and your assailant, yet that seemed to do nothing but only aggravate him further.

"Do you think I'm fucking around? I'll kill you and take it off your damn body if that's what you want," he urged further.

"I don't... I don't have anything."

Those were the first words you were able to stutter out, and you hated that it was the truth. There was nothing on you worth taking; no cash or card, not even any expensive jewelry. Worst of all, you didn't feel scared. A terrible numbness settled over you as your eyes stayed locked onto the blade that threatened to embed itself into your body, and all you could think about was that you hoped it didn't hurt when you died.

"You bitch, don't fucking lie to me. I don't have time to-"

That wretched man never got the chance to finish his words before a metal clinking cut him off, followed quickly by a crunch. The pure silence that followed was then interrupted by a piercing, guttural scream, and it was only then that your mind was able to make sense of the events that took place in front of you.

Simon, your big, beautiful bastard of a boyfriend, found you. How, you weren't quite sure, but you were thankful nonetheless. Most of what took place happened too fast for your brain to fully comprehend it, but you were able to figure out that the knife was no longer in the mans hands, and in fact, his hand no long seemed fit to hold anything at all. Several of his fingers twisted inhumanly, sitting at awkward angles that you knew no fingers could naturally position themselves. He gripped his wrist with his uninjured hand as if he could choke off the pain, but all he could do was sniffle and grovel.

"Watch your choice of words when you're talkin' to her, yeah?" Simon warned.

His huge frame slipped behind the man as he grabbed a hold of the back of his neck where he pushed him to the ground. His knees collided with the cement ground with a sound so sickening you could nearly feel the pain he felt. Even then, Simon didn't let the mugger off easy. His hand slipped into the mans short hair where he yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at you.

"Apologize," Simon demanded.

For a moment, the man couldn't get any words out. It was as if your positions had switched too violently for him to get his brain to work properly, but after a not-so-gentle nudge from Simon, his thoughts seemed to sort themselves. He sniffled as pained tears welled in his eyes, and you hated yourself for almost feeling bad for him.

"I'm sorry," the man sputtered out.

Despite the pain in his voice, it wasn't enough for Simon.

"Sorry for what?" he urged, grip in his hair only growing more forceful.

"Sorry for... for hurting you, I'm sorry," he winced.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Simon grumbled.

With a final shove, the man fell forward onto his good hand, nearly missing the now ruined steak and chips that was supposed to be Simon's dinner that night.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Simon urged, bringing your attention away from the crumpled mess of a man in front of you. "Let's clean up."

You didn't start crying until you realized Simon had been hurt. With clothes darker than night itself, his blood had blended all too well into his shirt, obscuring the cut he had gotten on his side. The only thing that had calmed you down was him bringing you into a private bathroom and letting you sit on the counter as he cleaned himself up. Seeing him hurt wasn't something you ever wanted to witness. Really, you never thought a man like Simon Riley could get hurt. Yet seeing the minor cut he had gotten compared to the major wound you would have endured was enough to quell your worries and halt your tears.

"How did you know where I was?" you asked.

Your legs didn't quite reach the floor as the counter was higher than most average bathrooms. You swung your feet as you watched Simon clean his cut with careful eyes. It wasn't deep, thank goodness, though it took him more gauze than imagined to stop the blood flow.

"One of the guys called up saying you were headed through the VIP entrance, and I came down to meet you. When I realized you weren't there, I knew somethin' was wrong. Besides, the cunt's demands weren't quiet," he explained.

Any other time, you would have been flustered being in such a situation with Simon. Behind closed doors in a bathroom of a club together would have already been nerve wracking enough, and the fact he had shredded his shirt was cause for you to be more abashed. But in that moment, you couldn't help but be eternally grateful he had been there, even if he had shattered a man's hand over it.

"I see why John has you hired as a bouncer," you admitted humorously. "I've never seen anyone... dispatch another person like that."

Simon's dark eyes flickered up to you as he finished bandaging his wound, and he moved to the sink to quickly clean his hands of the blood. Once he was clean, he moved in front of you where he stood between your legs, though not at all sexually. His hands came to rest against your side where he gave you a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

"I'd do anythin' for you," he said.

You wanted to explode into monologue. Wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be so willing to do things for you, even if he was capable of it. There were a million reasons why you didn't deserve him, why he shouldn't try and protect someone already damned, yet you couldn't get yourself to speak them.

Noting your silence, Simon pressed a caring kiss against your forehead before pulling away and snatching his ruined shirt off the counter.

"C'mon," Simon urged as he put the soiled clothing on.

Intrigued, you hopped off the counter. "Where are we going."

"To get dinner," he replied. "Bastard ruined my meal, and your night. Figured we could make somthin' back at my place."

The smallest of smiles graced your lips as Simon straightened himself out in the mirror, and when he looked at you again, he nearly smiled, too. You quickly wiped at your eyes as you silently prayed they weren't too swollen, and then with some sort of bravery you didn't know you had, you reached for the sleeve of his shirt with a quiet chuckle.

"I'd like that."

[verstappen-cult]

F1 GRID MASTERLIST

disclaimer: some works are nsfw and contain dark contents, your media consumption is your own responsibility. remember that RPF is just fiction & these are characterisations, so please don’t take anything too seriously.

── .✦ HEADCANONS

THE BOYS TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU’RE SICK

lando probably gets sick while taking care of you, charles tries to cook without burning the whole kitchen down, oscar reads to you until you fall asleep, max goes crazy, alex and daniel get angry and mick wants to cry.

SPENDING CHRISTMAS WITH THE BOYS

lando goes up to santa at the mall, charles drives you around town and helps you decorate the tree, oscar and you wear ugly matching sweaters, max goes all out and might try making a gingerbread house, key word try. alex takes you to an ice rink only to bump into people, daniel and christmas in australia, mick and his pajama-photoshoot on christmas day.

ATTENDING THE ERAS TOUR WITH THE BOYS

lando wearing matching outfits with you, charles tries not to show how excited he is, oscar might like reputation a lot, max will buy the most expensive tickets, alex is definitely a swiftie thanks to you, daniel definitely cries during all too well and mick might do something during love story.

GETTING A NEW PET WITH THE BOYS

lando loves the cat more than you, charles and you adopting a little one after moving in, oscar surprising you, max and you definitely didn’t plan on adopting another cat, alex and the zoo you have at home, daniel almost crying and bringing home a guinea pig, mick and cuddling. with a dog.

JEALOUS BOYS

lando doesn’t want to know anything about the new guy you are seeing, charles is seconds away from killing your friend, oscar bottles everything up until you’re alone, max confesses something while drunk, alex doesn’t know he’s jealous, daniel ignores you and mick finds some courage.

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE

lando defends you during one of his streams, charles makes a statement about what your relationship means to him, oscar posts a controversial tweet, again. max replies to every hate comment he sees, alex is obsessed with you and he shows it, daniel just needs a song, a phone and his guitar, and mick writes some beautiful poetry.

GETTING CAUGHT MAKING OUT WITH THE BOYS

lando and you have a little bit of fun in his driver’s room, an innocent task turns heated between charles and you, being in oscar’s childhood bedroom makes you feel and do things, max can’t keep his hands off of you at the FIA gala, alex sneaks inside the changing room, daniel and you hide in the airplane bathroom, mick can’t get enough of you even at the club, you spend seven minutes in the closet with logan thanks to a dare and lance makes sure you’re alone in his parent’s house.

MAKEUP SHOPPING WITH THE BOYS

lando doesn’t really likes to go shopping but for you he’ll do anything, charles is always asking if you need anything when you go out shopping together, oscar will follow you anywhere, max would give you the world if he could, alex and you have a monthly date to go shopping, daniel likes spoiling you, mick knows your favorite brand, you don’t even have to ask him and logan doesn’t know anything but he’s willing to learn.

THE BOYS MEETING YOUR PARENTS

lando looks like he’s about to meet his death while charles is about to have a panic attack, oscar is a natural, max goes all out, alex doesn’t know what to do, daniel is your mom’s favorite, mick prepares with flashcards and logan is a mess.

USING YOUR SAFEWORD

different ways in which the boys react to you using your safeword during sex.

── .✦ TEXTS

ACCIDENTALLY SENDING HIM AN AUDIO MOANING

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[iangeeluv]

Megumi Boyfriend Headcannons ♡

warnings: none (its all fluff)

a/n: this is basically my take on things Megumi would do as your boyfriend!

✧.*masterlist✧.*

bf!Megumi who acts like he doesn't care (he knows every single detail about you)

bf!Megumi who will drop everything to read with you

bf!Megumi who would beat anyone that lays their hands on you

bf!Megumi who lets you get close with his Demon Dogs (even though they only love you because he loves you)

bf!Megumi who holds your hand in public, but by interlocking pinkies (Ifykyk)

bf!Megumi who has a whole photo album dedicated to just you, named "my gorgeous girl"

bf!Megumi who is the best listener you’ve ever met

bf!Megumi who covers your face in kisses once you're in private, so he can make up for the affection he was too scared to show in public bf!Megumi who listens to you yap while you cuddle and plays with your hair

bf!Megumi who makes care baskets for you during that time of the month

bf!Megumi who is better at eyeliner than you are

bf!Megumi who always gets teased by his friends by how different his mood changes when you are around

bf!Megumi who demands goodnight kisses

bf!Megumi who is very, very precise with his hair routine

bf!Megumi who slightly smiles whenever he sees you

bf!Megumi who is scared that you’ll leave him for someone better than him since he isn’t the best with communication and has a hard time expressing his feelings (you would never leave though)

bf!Megumi who is comfortable just sitting in silence on call with you, while doing other things

bf!Megumi who gently wipes the tears off of your face and holds you while whispering in your ear "it's ok baby, I’m here"

Megumi! who gets mad when you steal his hoodie (he secretly loves seeing you in his clothes)

bf!Megumi who is unintentionally a part of the sassy man apocalypse

bf!Megumi who acts all mysterious and nonchalant in public but is the biggest softie when you are alone

bf!Megumi who is better at cooking than you are (he even wears an apron sometimes >.<)

bf!Megumi who pretends to not like the shows you watch, but ends up getting hooked on them, and always asks if you want to watch "that dumb show you watch" with him

bf!Megumi who buys you flowers for no reason and hands them to you without saying a word

bf!Megumi who secretly gets jealous whenever you speak to other guys

bf!Megumi who always made sure you get home safely

bf!Megumi who bought you a promise ring, even after you said it would be too expensive

bf!Megumi who teases you as a love language

bf!Megumi who is awful at braiding hair

bf!Megumi who lets you put bows in his hair and put it in different hairstyles (he won't let you take any photos though)

bf!Megumi who treats you better than any other person you dated before him

a/n: let me know if I should make this into a series with all the JJK characters!

*and this was my first ever headcannon! So if you have any tips or comments please feel free to tell me!*

[hitomisuzuya]

HIII SUZUUU first time requesting kind nervous lol. For once finally ur requests are open when I'm up 😭 I've been thinking abt scummy scara way too much lately like literally basically imagine just going on a cute date with him only for him to fuck you dumb the second u guys arent in public 🤭🤭🤭

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Scummy Scaramouche. Smut. Edging. Teasing. Degradation. Some date fluff. Reader is hinted in having a metal allergy cause I am allergic to gold jewelry.

Have I said how much I love when requests are worded like this 😳😌 No one should feel nervous requesting from me. 🥺

It was no secret that Scaramouche was a trust fund baby. And the one thing he liked to do with that money is spend it on you. He has to spoil his precious girl, after all.

If there was a cute stuffed animal you looked at for even a second in passing, it was yours. You wanted a book, he bought the whole series for you. You commented on how pretty a piece of expensive jewelry was, he bought it without hesitation. Especially if it was silver. Your skin was finicky about certain metals.

Scaramouche thought silver was prettier, anyways. Not prettier than you. How dare a metal even consider coming close to you.

He always touching you in some way as you walked. An arm around your waist, holding your hand, even sitting down somewhere he had his hand on your thigh. You were taken, damn it, and he needed to make the perfectly clear to anyone who looked.

"Scara, you've spent enough money on me already," You fretted, making him chuckle as he stopped in front of a lingerie boutique in town.

"Nonsense, I insist," Scaramouche replied. Oh yeah, he always insisted. Especially if it meant picking out lingerie for him to rip off later.

God, just picturing how you would look in the lacy black, blue, and purple lingerie to picked out for you was starting to make his cock twitch. "If you need any help, I can come in with you," He said, wishing the changing room door had some kind of keyhole.

"No, Scara, it's okay. I can manage," You said, blushing from how enthusiastic he sounded about helping you put everything on.

That wasn't the point. He needed to see how you looked in them. His imagination was starting to drive him a little crazy. His fingers were shaking with need, and the anticipation of getting his hands on you.

Even the lady behind the counter was starting to give him a stern look. He probably looked something like a dog frothing at the mouth.

With many bags in hand, back you headed with Scaramouche to his dorm. No sooner were you a few steps from it, he was making you drop bags right in the hallway, pushing you against the wall. His hands roamed greedily over your body, biting at your lips as he kissed you.

"Mmmm~," He purred, hooking his fingers through your panties, "you wore the one I hoped you would out of the store." He could hardly wait when you had given him only a price tag to take up to the counter with everything else.

Throwing open his dorm room door, Scaramouche stumbled inside with you, his lips never leaving yours. His hands pawed at your clothes, standing behind you in front of his mirror so he could watch himself remove the lacy purple lingerie. "Purple always looks so pretty on your skin," He kissed and bit at your shoulder as he unhooked your bra, groping your breasts before tugging it off.

Guiding you over to his bed, he pushed you down on it, spreading your legs as he licked a long the inside of your thighs. You squirmed, his spit rolling down the inside of your thighs to soak against the fabric.

"Ha, getting wound already. What a needy slut you are," He purred excitedly, hastily tugging your panties off. His eyes drank in your form spread out before him, just as hastily taking off his clothes. "Can't wait for me to fuck you dumb on my cock, hm?"

You whimpered, grinding needily against him as he pressed the tip of his aching cock on your clit. It sounded so fucking sweet to him that he had to hear it over and over again.

Scaramouche groaned every time he heard you whimper, relentlessly teasing the tip of his cock against your entrance. The way you squirmed on desperation, your walls fluttering and clenching around it was a drool worthy sight to him. His mouth said as much, drool dripping down onto your chest.

"Scara, please, put your cock all the way in me. I can't take much more," You pleaded, reaching down to grasp his cock to try and urge it inside of you. "Cum inside of me."

That sent him feral. Folding your body, and throwing your legs over his shoulder, his slid his cock slowly inside of you. Groaning, he cursed when his cock rested against your sweet spot. Pulling out to the tip, he slowly pushed himself back inside so he could feel your walls clench tight around his cock as he bottomed out again.

Every thrust made you see stars, your eyes rolling closed. Wrapping your arms around him, you clung to him. Scaramouche was determined for the entire campus to hear how good he was fucking you.

"Fuck, look at me when you cum, slut," Scaramouche hissed, pounding himself inside of you, his entire body quivering, his cock throbbing with his approaching orgasm.

Your eyes snapped open, tears welling in them as his lips captured yours to swallow your moans. He bit at your lips, pulling away when your legs started to tremble in pleasure.

"Scream it, whore. Who's fucking you this good, hm?" Scaramouche pushed your legs farther up towards your head, his husky moans only rose in octave as he drove he cock deeper inside of you.

"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Scaramouche!" The way you chanted his name like mantra, your release flooding around his cock made him cum suddenly inside of you. He left his cock resting deep into your sweet spot, his warm cum ribboning inside of you. You felt every throb of his cock.

Panting, Scaramouche pulled out of you after a few long minutes of feverishly fucking his cum back inside of you. Rolling off of you, he latched one of his lips around your nipple, sucking on it as he scooped some of his cum onto his fingers.

Your back arched off the bed, gasping when he rubbed and hooked his fingers over your sweet spot. You still hadn't entirely come down from your orgasm.

Scaramouche only wanted to continue to make his precious girl feel as good you made him feel. By cumming again all over his fingers.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Who's the most dominant and the most submissive in the Cross Guild thingie? First thought is it seems obvious Buggy is the most submissive but between Crocodile and Mihawk who's the most dominant? How hard do they butt heads? (Does Mihawk even give it the time of day to butt heads to begin with-)

Imagine reader just watching them argue in this comical cartoonist ball of fighting with the dust all around and she's just off to the side waiting on the bed like: "CAN I GET RAILED??? CAN I PLEEEASEEE JUST GET RAILED-" 😂

Buggy is definitely most submissive. You're the only one of the group that's actually nice to him, and he clings to your side like he's glued there and will do absolutely anything you ask. He knows that having you in his corner means you can talk Crocodile and Mihawk into being at least slightly more tolerant of him and his shenanigans, and he's just so grateful and loves you so much for it.

Mihawk leans more toward dominant than submissive, but he's still in the middle. Certified brat tamer. Actually finds it cute when you brat him but he's not going to admit it out loud, unless he's happens to be extra wine-drunk at the time. Then he might slip up and call you adorable. You can also use puppy-dog eyes on him to get him to agree to some things he otherwise wouldn't. Just gives you a weary look and a sigh and a "Fine...but you are in my debt now, darling. And I fully intend to collect."

Crocodile would definitely be the most dominant. You know how he is about being insulted and anyone taking a stab at his pride, and with that comes a desire for total control. Doesn't put up with brattiness or find it cute, it'll only piss him off. He'll still dote on you, particularly with expensive gifts and dates; but he expects you to be compliant to his whims in return.

Crocodile and Buggy constantly butt heads. Mihawk typically only ends up involved if he makes some snide comment about the two acting like children, or worse, "The two of you bicker worse than an old married couple." Buggy briefly manages to escape while Mihawk and Crocodile are having it out, only for Crocodile to grab him by the hair and drag him back into the fray like "Did I say I was done with you, assclown?"

All while you're laying in bed, sighing and just picking up a book from the nightstand to read until they calm the hell down and remember that you're waiting to get railed.

[manicpixiefelix]

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

2/2: think about me while you do it [SMUT]

{ masterpost : 2/2 }

Summary: In which Oliver puts you in your place, and makes you beg to be there.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, dehumanising language and overall incredibly degrading talk, BDSM, leashes, dacryphilia(crying), reader being treated like a dog, bondage & restraints, creampie, so much begging, sir kink, oliver having the time of his life as a manipulative dom, pet name used for the reader "princess" and being referred to as "good girl"

A/N: 7434 words. never ever as long as i live will i ever write this pairing (farleigh/brat!reader/oliver) again, and not only can you quote me on that, but you can take it to the fucking bank. that being said, i did genuinely LOVE writing this, i think they're dynamic is so incredibly fun to explore, and honestly there's something hot about the mind games they all play on each other. it's just that it takes FUCKING FOREVER for them to do anything because they all hate each other. well, you and farleigh hate oliver and he hates both of you, but you also like to cause problems on purpose which pisses them both off. i love it. i never want to write them again. 10/10 LETS GET WEIRD WITH IT i would love to know what you guys think about this all :) oh also we definitely get heavy on the farleigh/oliver in this as well

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Farleigh has always had these long, delicate fingers that Oliver's been fascinated by since they'd met, since he'd grabbed his thigh - so achingly briefly - in their tutor's office and levelled a grin that surely read as apologetic to the professor for running late, but turned so immediately dismissive the minute his gaze flicked to Oliver himself. For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.

But the coldness in Farleigh's eyes turned warmer, especially over the Summer at Saltburn, and Oliver couldn't deny the heat of his frustration didn't have some kind of want pitting in his stomach. Anger and lust have never truly been strangers, at least not if he was judging by the way Farleigh had been looking at him tonight.

Now, Farleigh was looking at you with that heat in his eyes, looking at your parted lips and breathless smile like he wanted to devour you whole after so readily giving in to Oliver's degradation. Then he's watching the gentle way Oliver caresses your face in the moments that follow, and that heat too turns degrading.

"You really have no self respect," he scoffs; the mood shifts sharply to the left. There's that look in your eyes again like you're on the verge of causing more trouble.

"He said I had no manners!" You protested as Farleigh moved back from you, "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!"

"Etiquette teachers aren't a real thing, are they?" Oliver, genuinely baffled enough to be pulled out of his earlier mood, automatically shuffles back as Farleigh gently pushes you over. You land on your stomach with a humph, hands still trapped at the small of your back, though now Oliver can see the skilled, tight way his belt was binding them. It conjures up images of expensive leather contraptions, restraints, and you on display, desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.

"Do you think she ever stops to think why we call her a princess?" Farleigh scoffs in a brief moment of solidarity as he reclines on the bed. Oliver actually, genuinely laughs at that, much to your chagrin, at least until Farleigh's hand, those beautiful fingers, pushing down the waistband of his own boxers to finally give his cock some sorely needed attention. "Don't think your manners are the most scandalous thing you've been a part of tonight," he adds, turning his head to you with a deliciously sly smile, "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?"

Oliver had caught sight of the way you were pouting, legs kicking ineffectually against the end of the bed considering how you were trapped in your position, like a little worm. You turned your head to face Farleigh with that same sulky expression, like all three of you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"My arms hurt," is all the response you give.

"Good," Oliver hadn't meant to say that out loud, nor had he entirely realised how fucking pleased he'd sounded as he'd said it, but it had seemingly escaped him nonetheless. His focus had been caught on the lazy rhythm Farleigh had been using to keep himself hard, but he still found himself enjoying the sound of your complaints, it seemed.

And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression. It seemed Farleigh himself wasn't even immune, cock momentarily twitching in his hand before Oliver realised how long he'd been staring, and that Farleigh's bright yet smug expression had meant he'd definitely noticed.

"You are taking to this remarkably fast," Farleigh sounds almost pleased, almost proud. You tell him to shut the fuck up, face still pressed against the duvet, but can't kick anyone from this angle, much to his ongoing amusement.

Surfacing, but still rather flustered, you announce sharply that you're not touching either of them until you can use your hands again. Oliver remarks that that's the point, and there's a part of him that's far too pleased about how it makes Farleigh laugh too. Of course this sets you off - he should have known - but it's easy enough for Oliver, sitting on his knees beside you on the bed, to keep you from sitting up too far once you've managed to roll over onto your back.

He knows he's different in this light, leaning over you, everything awash with the blue and silver of the night. For just a moment, it's as if you know you're helpless, his hand flat and warm on your chest, on your sternum, and you can see it in his eyes that he thinks you're helpless beneath him too. The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.

"Can I at least get some water?" You break the moment, and Oliver almost has to laugh, "it's not funny, I'm thirsty and for some reason," you pointedly rolled your eyes, words dripping with sarcasm, attempting to regain some of the composure you liked to carry yourself with, "I can't move my arms."

"Of course, your highness," Oliver briefly acquiesces, lips twitching into a smile as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom, hoping their was some kind of cup in their. Re-joining the room, he finds Farleigh to be amused, and you to still be on your back, annoyed -

"- not kidding, I'm not doing anything with either of you if you don't take this belt off of my damn hands," you were still insisting. Farleigh just grinned.

"Yeah, Miss Green-Light-Princess, we'll see about that."

Considering how your expression scrunched up to something almost flustered, and you didn't have any kind of comeback, it was safe to say you were still on board, just as Farleigh was delighted to call you out on it. Oliver reintegrates himself, sits himself on the edge of the bed and wears a little smile even as you call him your hero with more bitter sarcasm than he's ever heard from anyone in his life.

"Sit up," so gentle, so opposite of the ways he's been speaking to you just before he'd left; Farleigh is regarding him curiously, but you just roll your eyes. Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.

"I can't."

"Roll over," the sweetness is quickly disappearing. For a brief moment, Farleigh's gaze meet's Oliver's, and he knows exactly what Oliver's doing, even if you haven't clued in. There's a spark of devilish glee that they share in this moment, but Oliver can't let it show on his face.

"What?"

"Roll over, I'll help," Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but you dubiously agree. Perhaps you think he'll undo the restraints around your wrists. Of course he won't, you should know better than that.

With you obediently on your stomach, Oliver puts the water on the nightstand. One hand goes to your shoulder, the other holds your shoulder.

"Now princess," he murmurs low in your ear, tone oozing condescension, "sit," like ordering a dog when he pulls you upright; you don't even fully notice at first, the pressure from the angle that he pulls your arms makes them ache once more, but then you're sitting up on your knees, and Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.

There is fury when he looks in your eyes; your jaw twitches as you bite down on a hundred different retorts. There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires. You want to kick him, you want him to spit in your mouth, you want to ruin him, you want him to ruin you. All of it is written in your eyes.

You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.

Farleigh is eating this interaction up, watching like a hunter who lay in wait for his prey, content with how Oliver so skilfully toyed with you -

"There's a leash in the bottom draw of the night stand -"

"Farleigh Start, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands when I get them back," you hissed, but Farleigh's comment had piqued Oliver's curiosity. Before you could even look back to give Farleigh a withering glare, Oliver's hand found your throat. Thumb and fingers against your delicate pulse points, not yet cutting off the blood flow, but right where they needed to be.

Ironically it's Farleigh's voice in the back of his mind, a night out at the pub where it had just been mostly guys, and somehow the topic of their sex lives came up. It had been Farleigh who had rolled his eyes and explained - it's here, idiot - reaching over to demonstrate on Felix himself - it's cutting off the blood flow that makes their head spin, not actually choking them to death. Gorgeous fingers momentarily placed on his cousin's throat, Oliver had memorised the placement. Considering what he now knew of Farleigh's relationship with you, he didn't need to guess why he was so sure back in the pub.

"Didn't say speak."

"I'd kick you if I could," your lip curled, even as his grip on your throat tightened. That fire in your eyes was betrayed by the way your heartbeat practically danced beneath his fingertips, "give me my water, I wasn't kidding about that."

There's a long, tense moment where Oliver deliberates. Then, very slowly, he lets you go, and turns, reaching over to the night stand. Out of the corner of his eye there's a very sudden flurry of movement, and of Farleigh moving unexpectedly fast. The water actually shakes with it, spills and splashes several drops onto his thighs, cold in the humid room, before he turns to see the tableaux of attempted rebellion. Farleigh looks still amused, but rather exasperated, like he expected as much, expected to have his hand in your mouth, your teeth in his palm, other hand digging nails into your shoulder as he attempted to hold you back.

"It's like you forgot, Ollie," Farleigh says with a mean little smile, "my dog's the kind that bites," still he plays along, the words coming out lazily despite how he seems to actually have to work to pull his hand from your mouth. Your anger at being thwarted seemed to simmer just beneath your skin; this smile you now wear is laced with malice that hadn't been there before.

"Just having some fun," you practically spat, with both of Farleigh's hands now on your shoulders, holding you in place. This malevolence is it's own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver. Your pride is starting to win over your desire; your capacity for cruelty is overcoming your desire to be put in your place. Perhaps it was getting to real, perhaps you remembered how much better you supposed you were than Oliver himself. This is exactly how he wants you.

Princess. Collared.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Oliver levels a flat, unimpressed look at you. Both you and Farleigh are waiting, watching, letting him lead in this moment, and he does. Water in one hand, he carefully reaches down to the bottom drawer of the nightstand - when you move, the bed moves with you, but Farleigh's grip on you never yields, never lets you lunge at Oliver the way you keep trying. The collar is sleep and simple, padded on the inside, with a leash to match. It even has a little bell, and an engraved tag.

Bitch.

Oliver chuckles a laugh as he reads it, he can't help himself.

"Farleigh thinks he's very funny," you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what Oliver had found so amusing. Farleigh does look particularly pleased with himself over your shoulder.

"It was true when I got it engraved and it's still true now."

But Oliver's moving on again, asking Farleigh to hold the glass of water for him as he fiddles with the collar. He is quiet, intense, arms around your neck as he takes his time doing up the collar; his face is so close to yours, sharing your furious, shaking breathes.

"How is our princess feeling?" Oliver takes the moment to check in, genuine, though it seems to irritate you further, "green light?"

"Do not flatter yourself into thinking I am yet speechless," you spit, "if I truly thought you offered me nothing, and wanted nothing more from you, I am more than capable of making that abundantly clear." You were endlessly fascinating to Oliver; you wanted to maim him, but you wanted him nonetheless. He tightens the collar around your neck. Farleigh still has one hand on your shoulder; his thumb comes to press against the edge of the collar, against your skin meeting the leather as he makes a pleased hum. "Green fucking light, scholarship boy," you give a mocking little smile to Oliver, the bitterness never leaving your eyes.

"Good -" the moment Oliver has latched the collar, has the leash curled at the back of your neck around his fist, you strain forward against it. The bell rings with the movement, a delicate sound for an indelicate moment -

"But I am warning you," forehead pressed against Oliver's, you're straining for any inch, any millimetre more you could get from his unyielding grip on your leash, you practically snarl against his lips with venomous hatred, "about what you will get when you treat me like a dog." Yet Oliver makes sure to remain impassive, perhaps even a little amused, in the face of your threats.

"If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg."

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Farleigh's voice purrs in your ear, and some of the viciousness about you eases. You sit back, back out of Oliver's space, and watch as Farleigh hands the water back to Oliver's waiting hands, trading him for the leash.

"For you," there's contempt in your eyes as you watch Oliver while addressing Farleigh, "I'll think about it."

Oliver's gaze meet's Farleigh's as he presses his laughter to your shoulder; something in his eyes almost says, well, good luck, I tried. Like Oliver isn't revelling in this chance you've laid before him; like he doesn't know how quickly your body betrays you at every single opportunity.

"If you want some water, you have to ask nicely," Oliver offers. A pause follows, and he watches you change tact.

You relax, letting the fight leave you, pressing yourself back against Farleigh as much as you could. Feeling his face so close to yours you turn, practically nuzzling against him.

"Even if I'm nice, he's going to be mean about it," your voice comes out so sweetly, so transparently manipulatively, "I just want a drink of water, you wouldn't make me beg for a drink of water, Farleigh," you insist, voice plaintive, all doe-eyed and pouting and not looking at Oliver.

"I can and I have and you didn't complain this much," Farleigh saw fit to remind you, giving a wide, mean smile. Your lip began to quiver.

"You're not even fucking me and I'm going to cry," you tried whimpering.

"Funny how none of those sound like any of those safe words," Oliver points out. Your lip stops quivering, in fact, you glare at him out of the corner of your eye as you pout, still trying to be soft and gentle with Farleigh.

"That's because they're not," Farleigh says far too knowingly, far too smugly, muttering into your ear once more, though loud enough for Oliver to clearly hear how sharp and praising it is, "and aren't you pretty when you cry."

"Can't cry if I'm dehydrated," you huff, and finally Farleigh, with a roll of his eyes, gives in with a sigh.

"Give her the water."

You immediately perk up, looking far too pleased to be getting your way, and lean forward expectantly. Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.

"All of it; it's good for you," still he tells you, tone like a teacher, cup insistent at your lips.

"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.

"Oh he liked that," he commented, eyes alight with intrigue, and you frowned as you indicated for Oliver to lower the cup.

"I'm not saying it again."

"The optimism you have about what you will and won't do tonight is adorable," Farleigh tells you, planting a teasing kiss on your cheek, while you tell him to piss off.

"Give me the last of my water, you fuck," you finally manage, and Farleigh finally feels like he can lay himself back down, cackling at your audacity in the face of everything that had just happened. He also drops the leash, at least confident in either Oliver, or his own reflexes, for the time being, "do you want me to drink it all or not? Pick a lane."

Oliver, glass in one hand, reaches between your legs with the other. Immediately, you close your eyes, breath catching, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

"Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"I'm not going to bark for you," you manage through gritted teeth, though after a moment, you half stutter out a moan, "please can you let me finish my water?" Two fingers slide teasingly down your slit, "please, Oliver -" you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?"

Oh yes, he did like hearing that from you.

"Of course," Oliver sits back, pleased, licking his fingers clean like a pleased cat while assisting you with finishing off the glass of water. You can't meet his gaze, already embarrassed by how quickly you'd given in. He watches your tongue dart out across your lips, collecting the few drops that had strayed, clinging to the edges of your lips. Beautiful mouth, he's sure he can put it to good use.

"All better, princess?" Farleigh snarks from behind you. Oliver thinks he can see you bite back on a harsh retort, and once again watches you change tact. Shifting away from him, half turning so you were now perpendicular to Farleigh and able to properly look at him, you wriggled your legs out from under you, perhaps a little more comfortable to your side, like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa, it's an unassumingly sweet pose for the situation. Though it clearly matched the energy you were trying to give off.

"Yes, Farleigh, thank you, Farleigh," without even sparing Oliver a single glance. For a long moment, Farleigh's gaze slides from your innocent act to Oliver, looking unamused and still holding the empty glass. A strange moment of understanding passes between them the minute Farleigh sees Oliver's gaze snap to the leash down your back. So he sits, leans in close to you, and takes your face in one hand. It's clear you're leaning in to this perceived moment of tenderness, but Farleigh stops, a breath from your lips.

"You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology."

"I -" you begin to frown, but then the bed dips behind you, and Oliver's cool hand is grasping at the leash, pulling gently.

"Didn't say speak," he warned, and didn't even give you a moment to butt in before continuing, "show Farleigh you're sorry."

Farleigh, clearly delighted by this turn of events, sits himself up, shuffling back to lean comfortably against the headboard. This confidence becomes him, legs spread in invitation, generous cock resting hard and wanting against the smooth plane of his stomach. For several long moments, Oliver watches Farleigh lazily stroke himself, simply watching you and Oliver through a smug, half-lidded gaze.

"You should see yourselves," the teasing barely hides how his voice is dripping with want. Unsurprisingly, you try to play it off, becoming flustered at the implication of you staring, of how much you knew you wanted him. But Oliver meets Farleigh's gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Farleigh's smile widens.

"Aren't you lucky?" Oliver murmurs into your ear, grip on your leash tight as he keeps his eyes locked with Farleigh's. Though you've gone quiet, Oliver's unsatisfied with your lack of proper response, and gives a pointed yank on your collar.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky," you sighed faintly, "sir." Farleigh snorts a laugh, and Oliver grins, shuffling himself to sit on Farleigh's other side, by his hip, and looks expectantly at you before giving your leash a tug. At least you seem to be getting into this, considering you actually perk up, scrambling as best you could to sit yourself between Farleigh's legs.

There's something about the gleeful little grin that you give Farleigh in this moment that give away how much genuine joy and anticipation you have to have your mouth on his cock. He too seems at home in this moment, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head. It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.

"Can I have my hands back now?"

Farleigh goes to sit up, goes to say something, as if he'd realised you'd probably need your hands for the act, but Oliver cuts him off before he can.

"No." And it's too firm for him to argue with. When you look at Oliver this time, there's something there that wasn't before. A moment of genuine doubt, a moment of genuine submission.

"Sir, I think I need my hands for this," instead of argumentative, it's almost pleading. This is the moment he knows he's starting to win. Oliver tips his head to the side, as if regarding you curiously.

"Do you?" He can see the doubt in your eyes grow; it's driving him mad the way he's holding himself back, but good things take time.

"I think so," you don't sound sure.

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and makes sure you're following his movements. Farleigh's cock twitches in Oliver's cool hand, but all Farleigh does is let out a low, pleased hum. He starts simply, thumb gliding over his slit, collecting the precum that had been beading there, hand then moving up and down in even strokes. For a moment, he chances a glance at Farleigh, only to see his head lolling back against the bedframe, pleased smile on his lips.

When an actual whimper escapes you, and Oliver feels you tug on your leash in his other hand, he remembers his task at hand. There's lust in your eyes as you wriggle, thigh clenching and rubbing together at the sight of Oliver working Farleigh's cock. This might be far easier than he thought.

"You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.

"Yes," your practically bark, breathless and eager and embarrassingly fast. It actually seems to catch both Oliver and Farleigh off guard, Farleigh's cock clearly reacting positively in Oliver's hand to your obvious desire, and Oliver giving Farleigh a genuinely impressed look.

"Never seen someone so eager to get their mouth around a cock before; you must've done something special to her."

"Do you want me to teach you or do you want me to show you?" Farleigh's eyes shine as brightly as his smile in the silver-blue glow of the night. Oliver's mouth goes dry at the thought, his own cock aching at the mere thought of what it would be like to look up at Farleigh with his smug approval - knew you could be boy for me, Oliver - and he wants to hate the idea, but he can't. But he doesn't get the chance to respond -

"No, mine," slips from you like a whine, unexpectedly possessive. It brings both boys' attention back on you, however, and you seem to realise your slip up. Mouth opening and closing, you can't even seem to find the words to defend yourself; at least you've learned to shut up.

"Careful princess," Farleigh says surprisingly coldly, slipping back into dominance with practiced ease, "you're lucky, remember?"

"I'm lucky," you nod emphatically, but you're straining against your leash, wetting your lips.

"Good girls get treats," he yanks your collar back to remind you who still holds your leash, "this a treat for you, princess?"

"I do genuinely enjoy it," you admit honestly, seeming a little flustered to be saying as much, looking to Oliver with a sheepish smile, "not with anyone else though," it's actually a very sweet moment.

"Really?" Farleigh seems genuinely flattered, wide, bashful smile on his face as he sits forward a little.

"You seriously don't understand how hot the noises you make are," you laughed a little self consciously, "I came completely untouched once just from going down on you."

"Are we here to stroke Farleigh's ego or his cock?" Oliver rolled his eyes, already tired of this, but Farleigh sat back obliging, while you tried to bend down, but very much couldn't.

"Pick a lane, Oliver," you groaned, before quickly amending, apologetically, "sir." Farleigh snickered. Oliver's gaze grew cold.

"Beg for it."

He pushes his hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to double over and bend down, but then kept his grip on your leash tight as he held the shiny, plump head of Farleigh's cock just inches from your lips.

"Please," already you were back to playing along, mouth open, breathing heavy, whimpering as you hear an impatient moan from Farleigh himself, "please, sir please -"

"Please what?"

Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.

Oliver's hand has been skilfully fisted around Farleigh's cock this entire time, keeping him hard and ready and in the perfect spot to drive you made, just out of your reach. He'd half forgotten he was even doing it, getting him all worked up, leaking, slick, fingers shiny and sticky with Farleigh -

"Oliver -" Farleigh chokes out in a kind of warning tone, as if to tell him to stop playing around one way or the other.

"You think you deserve this?" Oliver finally lets Farleigh's cock go, and you actually whimper. Oliver wipes his hand off messily against your mouth, once more demanding to know if you think you deserve this. You're begging, please tumbling from your lips even as Oliver presses two fingers into your greedy mouth.

"Please, sir," muffled so much that it's almost indistinguishable as your thorough tongue laps at Oliver's fingers, "please, I need him," and the desperate tears are welling in your eyes as he keeps his fingers in your mouth but pushes you back up onto your knees.

"Will you sit for me if I give you what you want?" He pulls his fingers slowly from your mouth. You nod, heartbeat alive when he wraps a firm hand around your throat, "will you stay for me if I give you what you want?" Another nod, lip trembling and breathing so desperately hard. He applies more pressure.

"Anything," you gasp, hips moving again, insistent, desperate for friction; he'd see to that soon, "speak, shake," you wet your lips, "roll over."

Oliver glances over his shoulder to where Farleigh is watching with rapt attention. Good.

"Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.

Oliver lets go of the leash carefully, and your eyes snap back to him. Just as you promised, you sit, you stay, a good dog, watching him move closer to Farleigh with intent. He hears your breath catch the moment he takes Farleigh's cock in hand, and the desperate chanting of 'pleasepleaseplease' as he lowers himself down. For a moment, he looks to Farleigh, a silent question of permission, but considering he too can hear how desperate and needy you're behaving at the mere sight of this, he realises, at least in part, what Oliver's doing and seems entirely on board.

You were right, Farleigh moans and whimpers like a whore with a mouth on his cock. A wanton melody made all the sweeter for your begging having turned simply to needy noises. What Oliver can't fit of Farleigh in his mouth he continues to jerk off, momentarily slipping down to gently squeeze Farleigh's balls, earning him the most beautiful series of swears Oliver's ever heard. Tongue always moving, caressing, often lapping at Farleigh's slit and the sweet, salty slickness, Oliver works hard to make him feel good - which he knows he's more than capable of, despite his demeanour he's nothing near a virgin in any realm - without getting him to close. He'd still leave that for you.

For a moment he glances up at Farleigh, and the bitterness in his eyes at the edge of the obvious lust, like he resents Oliver for being so good at this, makes it all worth it.

I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.

When he pulls away, he makes sure there's a distinctive, lewd slurp before he takes a deep breath.

Looking to you, the fight is back in your eyes, but it doesn't fucking matter; Oliver won. He pulls you in for a rough kiss -

"I hate you," you snarl at him through your intensely frustrated pout, even as his hand grabs your jaw, "interloping little slut, where the fuck do you get off -?" But the minute he pushes his tongue into your mouth you still try to press yourself against him, to kiss him harder, taste all of Farleigh in him that you could. You know you're sloppy fucking seconds to him, and you hate him for it.

"I was thinking it was going to be in you," Oliver says blithely as he pulls away from the kiss. In the back of his mind he knows it's a loaded statement - ha - but he hasn't forgotten the colours if this was a bridge too far -

"Fucking finally you have some common sense," you sneer, as if you weren't still on the verge of tears, "I was going to say that if you ruined my sheets I was going to have you arrested."

"No you weren't," pipes up Farleigh with an eyeroll. Immediately embarrassed you tell him to shut up, "no, I don't think I will; I'm beginning to think you guys are a bunch of fucking teases -"

Oliver gives him a thin smile, handing over the leash, having gotten all the permission he needed.

"Are you going to be good for Farleigh?" He whispered low in your ear, "didn't you want this?"

"Weren't you just begging for it?" Farleigh smirked down at you, lust-filled approval in his voice, "come on, baby," he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck. But you seem to react with relief the moment you have your mouth around him.

There's something that even Oliver finds entrancing about Farleigh in this moment. He'd been leading you both for so long that he'd forgotten where it had all started, the way Farleigh had spoken so early on, and how even in your most vicious or playful, part of you would always refer back to him. Part of Farleigh had earned your respect, and in the end, he had been the only one in the house who made the princess feel like her place was on her knees.

"Now your little power trip is over," Farleigh's voice cuts through Oliver's thoughts like a fucking knife, as always, painful and clean and precise, "do you need my permission to -" but Oliver's done with his bullshit tonight too.

"Shut it Farleigh," he rolls his eyes and starts to move once more. Time he focuses on your bound hands, finally deciding that you'd probably had enough, or at least were willing enough to listen to either Oliver or Farleigh in a way that mattered.

"Oh my god, freedom!" You immediately announced, sitting up to throw your hands in the air with a genuinely delightful glee.

"You see what you've done," Farleigh looked over your shoulder to Oliver, tossing his belt to the side, but you were already using your freedom to crawl up to meet him. Oliver's surprised by how genuine and affectionate you are when you tell him to be quiet for a moment. With one hand still working on him, the other being used to brace yourself up, you kiss Farleigh gently. What surprises Oliver even further is the momentary look of actual love in Farleigh's eyes as he cups your jaw and kisses you back.

Then you're moving back, making sure to let them both know that you weren't kidding about how much you enjoyed going down on Farleigh. However you do give pause, looking at Oliver through narrowed eyes for a long minute where he's sitting by your knees, watching the exchange, not quite sure where he was meant to go from here.

Your foot lashes out at him. Hard. It's unexpected. Somehow, so is the second kick that follows immediately after. The third he anticipates, but by that stage you'd shunted him to the edge of the bed, and though he tries to catch your leg he falls off, unsuccessful.

"What kind of problem do you have?" Oliver is scowling from the floor, his shoulder and hip sore from the fall, while Farleigh is laughing his ass off.

"What are you, a coat rack suddenly?" You demanded, matching his scowl with one of your own, still braced on your hands and knees over Farleigh, "also fuck you for making me beg for water." Careful, Oliver thinks, he's not quite done making you beg.

"Maybe his dick's broken," Farleigh snorted, "which would be a fucking shame; have you had a proper look at it?" Oliver bristled at the implications, though he knew he'd be thinking about the compliment tucked in there for days to come.

"You are both right fucking insufferable," Oliver snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off with indignation.

"Yeah, I'll cry about it in the shower later," you could clearly be heard rolling your eyes. There's a few pointedly obnoxious moments where you make a point of gagging on Farleigh's cock before coming back up for air and to add, "fuck me or fuck off - woah, okay, good choice!"

Before you can even finish your ultimatum, Oliver's decided he's come too far to, well, not. Grabbing your thighs with all the strength he could muster, he pulls you almost entirely away from Farleigh, to the end of the bed, half off the bed, causing you to faceplant into the duvet the moment your knees were no longer supporting you. Farleigh's protests fall on deaf ears, however, as all Oliver allows himself to focus on is keeping you stable, bent over the end of the bed like this.

Still, Farleigh shifts down to accommodate your change in position, despite his eye rolling and claims that Oliver's being dramatic, it's overshadowed by the sudden, loud moan that escapes you.

"Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you. In the moment he gives you to adjust, his hand pressed to the small of your back to which you eagerly arch back against him, he watches Farleigh. It's his turn to be smug.

After a moment, he gives a few, shallow, experimental thrusts. Each time you rock back to meet him, to take him as deep as possible, and each time he hears a faint, pleased whimper. Your body and it's desires has betrayed you at every single opportunity, which is information Oliver gladly keeps in the back of his mind.

"Come on princess," he leans over to you to murmur in your ear where you'd pressed your face to Farleigh's thigh for the moment, attempting to keep going with your hand on him when your body could only focus on the rhythm of Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, "you've got a job to do, don't you want to be good?"

"I want to be good," you keened, before making the effort to prop yourself up, taking Farleigh in your mouth once more.

It's the last moment of care that Oliver affords, however, as he very quickly sets a rough pace, nails digging so hard into your hips that he thinks he might draw blood. But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.

The three of you get lost in each other, each desperate moan from your muffled by Farleigh's cock hitting the back of your throat. The sensation soon sets him off and he can't keep his hands off of you. Up on his knees he takes over, takes your face in his hands as you look up at him, teary-eyed with a heady kind of bliss, and he matches Oliver's rhythm as he fucks your face.

Oliver can only imagine the kind of mess you look like right now, but has to focus on sustaining himself, making sure he doesn't leave you with any more excuses to belittle him tonight. So he reaches around, between your thighs, and his fingers find your desperately sensitive clit.

Immediately your stance slips, widens, gives him better access to your clit, and he hears your muffled moan become a choked sob. The beginning of the perfect end.

Farleigh's getting close, his pace is faltering, his hips are stuttering, you're whining and gasping desperate breathes between each of his thrusts, that have turned to wordless, overwhelmed sobs in the past few minutes. Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you. He can't dwell on it, not when Farleigh's eyes have fallen closed and he's started mouthing what Oliver can only assume is a string of swear words.

For just a moment, Farleigh looks like an angel. Ethereal. He almost glows. Perfectly at peace and content and not a total, unbearable smug asshole. Then he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets his legs give out again, flopping back onto your bed with a wide grin.

"I thought Oliver couldn't make you speechless," Farleigh teased, while you had in fact moved past words almost entirely, except -

"Please," you sobbed desperately. Farleigh, who'd never gotten to see you like this from here, lights up, moving back to you. You're shaking, barely able to support yourself, and he finally sees Oliver's hand between your thighs, and puts two and two together.

"Please?" He wears a smile that's all teeth, gently taking your shoulders and the pressure of keeping yourself up. In return you find yourself holding his face, his arms, everywhere, for support as he moved you back to press against Oliver. Taking the hint, Oliver wraps his arm around you, firm against your back, keeping you secure as he fucks up into you.

"Pleasepleaseplease -"

"Words, princess," Farleigh tells you as he brushes Oliver's hand out of the way, letting him focus on the new angle, the new sensation, the way you're trembling and so close to cumming on his cock. Before you can even formulate proper words at first, your head falls forward onto Farleigh's shoulder, sobbing, aching with how good you've been made to feel.

"I'm so close," you choke out, "please can I -"

"Selfish," Oliver admonishes coldly, and the reaction is immediate.

"No, no," you whimper apologetically, something Farleigh's never heard from you before. Lifting your head you lean back, fitting yourself against Oliver further, trying to placate, "please, no I promise- you, I need -" you take a deep, shuddering breath, "Ollie, please, it feels like I'm going to fucking die if you don't cum in me," you blurt out. Farleigh actually laughs, he's never seen you so fucking weak for another person.

Your begging and desperate pleas spur Oliver on, holding you tighter, fucking you harder, until he finally leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. It sends you over the edge, has you seeing stars as you cry out. Shudder and sobbing with your release, you feel Oliver bury his cock deep in you as it twitches and throbs and paints your inside.

Oliver lets you go, lets you fall onto Farleigh as your orgasm is still quaking through you. Oliver's hands grip your hips, keep you flush to him, keep you from pulling away.

"That's a good girl," Farleigh murmurs in your ear. He's holding you close with one arm, the other gently running his fingertips up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. He doesn't bother sparing Oliver a second glance, Oliver isn't an important part of this equation to him anymore. Not that that matters to Oliver.

It was far easier to pick you apart, to own you inside and out, than he'd ever imagined. He'd brought you to tears, made you beg for every last bit of fucking pleasure including every inch of him and then some. He would leave you aching, leave you knowing that you both knew the truth of where your place is in his world.

Finally Oliver pulls out of you, wiping his softening cock on your thighs before he thinks about getting dressed. He does take a few moments, while you're still half bent over the bed and being supported by Farleigh, where Oliver watched with a detached kind of approval, the way his cum starts to leak out of you, down your thighs with your own shining arousal.

The princess had been collared, cuffed, and his, inside and out.

"Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.

"Good girl."

[mncxbe]

Can you write how the hunting dogs would react if jouno is a complete sweetheart to his S/o? If not, That's okay, don't stress yourself ((: <3

Aww this is so sweet I love it. It's a bit sillier than I intended it to be but it kinda matches the group dynamic of the hunting dogs. Hope you enjoy♡

°☆○

7:24♡

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff/ silly♡

𝑻𝒆𝒕𝒄𝒉ō

let's start off with our sweet boy

I feel like he's quite unfazed by Jouno's saccharine affections; he knows that at heart his colleague is a good person

but he still feels awkward sometimes

he's lowkey happy for the two of you and the fact that Jouno finally has a safe space to express his love

Tetchou likes to observe the sweet, little interactions between you (especially when you think no one's watching) and smiles so gently

if Jouno is especially annoying one day he'll tease him about it; "Jouno how can you be so nice to Y/N but so mean to me?"

It was Monday morning and Jouno was once again smothering you with kisses. He only indulged in these affections when he wasn't at the headquarters.

The three of you were currently on a mission and decided to take a coffee break. You and your boyfriend were on one side of the wooden table and Tecchou on the other; awkwardly tracing the outline of the cup he was holding.

"Darling do you want a sip of my coffee? Or maybe a slice of cake or another kiss?" asked Jouno in a playful voice as he leaned in, placing another peck on your plump lips.

"Sai please stop we're in public" you protesed but the tender tone of your voice hinted the opposite. You were enjoying this display of affection just as much as he did; a rosy colour tinting your cheeks as soon as your partner pulled away from you.

Tetchou couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy around you. He felt like an intruder, interrupting such a private and peaceful moment. Nevertheless he felt a warm feeling blooming in his chest as he watched the two of you.

He was happy that his colleagues found comfort in one another and enjoyed your sweet interactions. A childish smile rose to his lips as you leaned in, kissing Jouno's nose.

𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒖𝒌𝒐

she always makes snarky comments about the two of you and teases Jouno, saying that he's growing soft and all that

but in fact shs's really supportive of your relationship

the first time she saw him willingly kiss you in front of them after a mission her heart exploded

if you ever go out together she's like mama y papa, mama y papa

You and Teruko were just about to end one of your infamous girls' night out. Spending half of your salary on expensive dinners and elegant dress you were probably never going to wear was something you did at least once a month.

"Shall I call us a cab, Y/N?" asked the woman as you exited the dimly lit restaurant.

"Actually Jouno's going to pick us up. He said he can also drive you home."

Teruko's brows furrowed, a look of obvious concern on her face "How does a blind man even get a driving license? Is that possible?"

"I dunno. Beats me" you chuckle "But it's Jouno after all."

"Fair enough"

Soon enough a car pulled in front of the two of you and your boyfriend stepped out of it. With a wide smile on his face he pulled you in for a hug, twirling you once.

"How's my beautiful girl doing tonight? Did you have fun?" he asked in a tender voice as he placed you back on the ground.

"As per usual we had a great time" you beamed, urging Teruko to get into the backseat.

Jouno quickly opened the passanger door and, with a bow, gestured you to take a seat.

"Wow Jouno I didn't know you were such a gentleman. Looks like Y/N trained you well" teased the rosy haired woman as your boyfriend occupied the driver's seat, turned on the engine and drove off.

In the rear-view mirror she could see her colleague's lips curl into a sly smile at the sound of her words

"I am always well mannered with beautiful ladies, Teruko." he replied in the same tone.

"But you never opened a door for me or- Wait. Are you saying that I'm ugly you idiot" yelled the young woman, causing you to burst out laughing.

"Just wait 'till we're out of the car Jouno I'll beat your ass." pressed Teruko.

"Hey guys, be civil" you added between giggles.

Teruko pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as she laid back in her seat. She caught a glimpse of Jouno's smirk in the mirror but didn't dare say another word as not to ruin your wonderful evening.

"You're lucky I like your girlfriend. You'd be dead otherwise."

"Yea, yea kiddo. Don't forget to fasten your belt." mocked the man.

Teruko didn't find this conversation amusing; she hated being given a taste of her own medicine but she couldn't deny how happy she was to hear your laughter. You've been friends ever since you joined the Hunting dogs and she knew that getting together with Jouno was the best thing that happened in your life; probably in his too. So she was willing to let the man's jokes slide.

As the three of you drove home Teruko's gaze remained fixated on your pinky, which was loosely interlocked with your boyfriend's on the shifter; a smile rising to her lips.

𝑻𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂

out of all the hunting dogs he's the most confused and shocked

what happened to the cold hearted Jouno? he could be arguing with Tetcho about some trivial matters but the second you step foot in the room he has a wide smile on his face and hugs you???

nevertheless he's happy for the two of you and constantly reminds you of that

he does sometimes tease Jouno about it tho but in a sweet way

Tachihara had his suspicions about Jouno's crush on you but he didn't expect you to start dating so soon. It's been two weeks since he last saw his fellow colleagues and he was shocked to find you and Jouno cuddling on the cushioned couch in the back of the conference room.

"Uh... What's that?" he asked Teruko, barely able to conceal his surpirse as he pointed at the two of you.

"Oh them? They've been at it for a week now. Jouno's all over her all the time really they're quite enamoured."

Before he got the chance to reply, the captain stepped foot in the room and announced the beginning of the meeting.

You and Jouno haistly rose from the sofa and occupied your designated seats opposite to his.

During the meeting he kept stealing quick glances at the two of you: that giddy smile never left Jouno's face for a second.

As soon as Fukuchi dismissed you, you all went to your offices to finish the last reports for the day. Tachihara decided not to let this opportunity go to waste and walked after Jouno.

"Hey man. How're you doing?"

His colleague nodded "Quite well actually. And you?"

Tachihara had never heard Jouno sound so light-hearted in his entire life; a sense of pride and joy washed over him.

"I'm great too actually. It's good to be back. What I wanted to say... Congrats. I'm happy for you and Y/N."

Jouno's face turned a light shade of pink upon hearing his words, his lithe fingers adjusting the collar of his vest.

"Thanks, Hara. I'm happy too."

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊

secretely hoped that the two of you would date from the beginning

he's still surprised by how affectionate Jouno is with you

gives you that half smirk of his (y'all know what I'm talking about) when he sees you holding hands under the table during a meeting or hugging throughout the day

tries to avoid pairing you up on missions cuz there's a big chance y'all get distracted

It was a usual Friday afternoon and Fukuchi had summoned you all in the conference room to hold the weekly debrief meeting.

"So. What's the status of your missions?" he asked in his usual stern voice.

Tachihara was the first to speak. He talked about the Mafia's plans and recent activity but soon started rambling on about what the other mafia members were doing in their free time. Fukuchi didn't interrupt him and actually tried to pay attention to what the redhead was saying but his throughts slowly drifted off to the bottle of sake hidden in his desk.

To take his mind off of the alcohol he scanned the room; his gaze slid idly from Tachihara to Tetchou, who was doing pushups behind his chair then to the opposite side of the table: to you and Jouno.

His lips curled into a smirk when he saw that the white haired man was toying with your fingers in his lap, tracing their outline.

You were doing your best to remain composed as your boyfriend glided his nails along the skin of your forearm. Everyone knew how ticklish you were.

Seeing this innocent display of affection truly pleased the old man, who secretely rooted for you ever since you joined the team. He was however surprised by how doting Jouno was; always by your side, holding your hand, kissing your forehead when he thought no one was watching, allowing you to doze off on his shoulder after a straining mission or buying you cups of coffee from a nearby shop when you needed an energy boost.

Tachihara's voice suddenly snapped him out of his trance.

"Captain, are you still listening?" inquired the redhead.

He quickly striaghtened his back and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes, please go on."

And so Tachihara went on detailing Port Mafia's plans while he tried his best to ignore the hushed words you shared with Jouno.

[thehomophobe]

Where they take you out on dates🤗

Mind y'all. This takes place after you remove everyone from the Pizzaplex.

Freddy: For him, every day's a date. But if he had to take you somewhere it would be dinner. The man's a gentleman. And while he can't cook for shit, he'll make it up with a classy dinner. Finds some random suit, puts on his bowtie and hat, and walks you to some fancy (and probably expensive) restaurant he found online. (Although in the end, you end up paying the bill) The park would be the other option.

Chica: Amusement Park or Carnival. Will try every food stand. Then coax you to go on a ride. (Girl don't know how human stomachs work 😭) "Let's go on that one!" *points at the tallest rollercoaster* (Oh god no) If you don't feel well or too scared of going on the rides, you'll go play the games. Somehow beats the carnie's rigged games. "Got you something~" Pulls out the biggest, most knock-off plushie there was and hands it to you. It's in your room now.

Monty: Club. Alright, who told him what a club was? Man's all for it. Starts to dance to the music on the floor. You lose him in the crowd. Until finally, you find him at the bar (no not drinking since he realizes he can't get drunk) just lounging. Eventually, you go home. If you're not into clubbing, it'll either be mini golf (OBVI) or just walking around town at night. 

Roxanne: Shopping. And then maybe getting your hair done or nails done. Will wear whatever you think looks good on her. Then would go to the salon. The hairdresser would be asking about Roxy's hair and how she tackles it (After asking about the tail) The same thing would happen at the nail salon "Ooo your nails are so long." 🐺: "Thank you. I always keep them in shape."它們就像爪子" "她就像一頭狼" 

Sun: Honestly, bring him anyway and he'll be happy (except for prison). Take him to the amusement park, he'll want to go on the little kiddie rides. Take him to the park, he pets every dog he sees. Take him shopping, he'll find you cute clothes. Take him to the arcade, insert that one episode in K-ON where Ritsu invites Mugi to the arcade and Mugi goes wild. All he wants is to be with you. You make him so happy.

Moon: Movie night. Whatever movie is in the theater you'll go to. Will make snide comments about the characters in horror movies. "He knows you're in there. What's the point in hiding?" Likes it when you rest your head on your shoulder whether sleeping or just resting. Also likes to cuddle when you're watching a movie at home.  

[vanderlesbian]

141 dating a civilian

hii!! this is a self indulgent belated bday gift to myself (im 20 now...) but i hope u guys enjoy it!! also feel free to leave requests in my asks bc i am so bad at thinking of prompts but ive been wanting to write so bad LOL

writing this had made me realize that i love writing gaz content........i am obsessed with him.........

gn reader! no warnings :)

masterlist

captain john price

- price loves being around you—you bring a sense of normalcy that relaxes him. when he's home, he enjoys doing domestic things around the home. he offers to do the laundry, he'll make you tea in the mornings, he feeds the dog and cat you two raise together and will go with you on any errands you need to run. when he's with you, he never thinks about work, which makes you happy because you hate to see him overworking himself.

- i feel like you two would meet through laswell. a mutual friend, you and price would meet one another at a pub or something of the sort. immediately, the two of you take an interest in one another, and laswell would catch onto that rather quickly and finds it endearing. when getting to know one another, you mention the fact that you live alone, which gives price the excuse to hand you his number. "in case you need anything", is what he told you, and you could've sworn you saw laswell snickering behind him. regardless, you ended up texting him a few days after that, asking him if he knew how to fix cars.

- loves going on vacations with you!! when price has a decent period of time off, he'll ask you if you want to go somewhere, to which you always answer yes. road trips are his favorite, because driving for long periods of time is something calming for him and he enjoys the fact that it's just the two of you traveling. maybe you'll go camping, or perhaps you'll drive a country over to spend a few days in a different city; whatever it is, you and price always have a nice time. while he gets to travel a lot, he recognizes that you don't have the same opportunity, so he loves to take you places as see your reactions to things. when he's deployed, he's always on the lookout for places to take you later.

- one of your favorite things to do is visit price while he's in the office. you usually bring him a meal, whether it be home made or take out because you know he's going to forget about grabbing himself something to eat. he always thanks you with a kiss, then you linger for a moment to speak to him, giving him time to eat and take a break from his work. while you're visiting price, all of his attention is on you, and if a soldier knocks on his door and asks to speak to him, he'll use his captain voice to tell them to come by later unless it's an emergency.

- price is very proud to call you his partner. although he tries not to bring you up too often at work because of privacy and professional reasons, he likes to mention you casually every now and then, especially with laswell or the other 141 members. he's proud of the work you do, no matter what your career is; he's just likes to brag about his amazing partner. he will do his signature v shaped smile whenever someone says in surprise,"oh, your partner is a/n [occupation]? how cool!"

simon "ghost" riley

- ghost is a listener, not a talker. and boy, does he love listening to you ramble on about your day. he finds it cute; the way you complain how expensive your coffee was that morning, or how you couldn't decide what to wear to simply go pick up a snack from the store. his responses include a lot of "oh really?", "i bet", and some snarky comments when you bring up a coworker that you don't particularly like. ghost is quiet, but his little responses show that he's well invested in your stories.

- just like everything else in his life, ghost keeps his relationship with you very private. it took him quite a while to even tell any of the other 141 members that he was in a relationship, simply because he didn't feel the need to tell them. he also wanted to protect you; not that he didn't trust the other members, but he was scared of your name accidentally being said to the wrong person. you were innocent, and ghost didn't want to ruin that innocence with the dark realities of his job and put you in danger.

- listen; meeting him at a music store. you would definitely be the one to initiate things, so when you saw a tall, handsome man flipping through records beside you, it made you look for an excuse to speak to him. "that's a good album", you would then finally speak up after watching him pull out a vinyl by the doors. ghost would honestly be taken aback; no one ever really strikes up conversation with him in public. "yeah" would be his response, but the dryness of it didn't stop you from continuing the conversation. after you two begin dating, ghost will often bring up how you were insistent on speaking to him, which never fails to bring a shy blush to your cheeks.

- you think it's amusing to have such a "scary" looking boyfriend. he tags along behind you whenever the two of you go out, and you often forget how large and intimidating he looks to others, especially because he always wears dark colored outfits and a face mask out in public. imagine ghost lingering behind you like a lost puppy while you mindlessly look through clothes at a store. when you're at the register, you notice the cashier glancing behind you, forgetting that ghost is looming over you like a bodyguard.

- speaking of others reactions, you love showing ghost off to people. you'll be spending time with friends, family, coworkers—whoever, and you get so excited whenever they ask if you have a boyfriend. you think it's funny to see their eyes widen when you pull up a photo saying "this is simon, he's deployed right now but (blah blah blah)". you had asked ghost for his permission to show photos of him to others while he wasn't around, and at first he was hesitant, but after hearing about the reactions he gives people, he doesn't care anymore. people think "that's their boyfriend?", which makes ghost smile to himself because yes, he's all yours.

kyle "gaz" garrick

- you two have this thing where the moment he opens the door after coming home from a mission, you'll sprint into his arms and he never fails to pick you up off your feet and squeeze you tight. gaz greets you like he hasn't seen you in years, covering your face and neck in kisses and spinning you around in his arms for what feels like forever.

- loves to facetime you when he's away. sometimes you'll be in different timezones, but both of you will be willing to stay up at 3 in the morning jusst to talk to one another. gaz always gives you room tours of whatever place he's staying at while deployed, or he'll call you while he's out shopping to ask what souvenir you'd like best. sometimes the other 141 boys will pop in to say hello, or gaz will shove the camera in their face to ask if they have anything to say to you.

- i feel that gaz would easily become jealous, especially because he can't be with you all the time. while he's away from you, you'll text or call him about an encounter at work or while you were out and about where someone tried hitting on you, earning a snarky remark from gaz. they always make you giggle because you're aware how protective he is of you, and they're often silly remarks like "they're lucky i wasn't there" or "should've told 'em your boyfriend is 6'5 and a wrestler"

- gaz is younger, so i feel that you would be a university student or something of the sort when you first met him. working part time at a local coffee shop at the time, you vividly remember gaz complimenting you the first time you served him. "you're very pretty/handsome, by the way" he said confidently, but quickly walked off before you could thank him. after that, gaz came in as often as he could, learning something new about you each time he came in, and it got to a point where you would simply give him a drink or pastry for free each time he came in. eventually he would ask you out, offering to take you somewhere after your shift, to which you immediately agreed to.

- when gaz visits your place, it's always like a silly little sleepover. the two of you will watch comically bad movies, make homemade pizza, play those couple's card games and he'll listen to you talk about any gossip you have. when gaz is with you, he takes it as his time to just be himself because he's so comfortable in your presence. he doesn't have to worry about being formal with you, and the two of you are equally as silly as you spend time with one another.

john "soap" mactavish

- soap doesn't like to bother you with his work. when he's with you, he'll always be so upbeat and playful, but you've learned to be able to notice when he's particularly stressed or tired. he insists that he's fine, telling you that you don't have to worry about him as he tries to play it off. he's a bit stubborn about it, so sometimes you have to bother him just a bit before he finally gives in and tells you what's up, or simply agrees to laying down and having a rest.

- okay, picture this. you meet soap at a dog park. i think he would have a german shepherd...which is besides the point, but when your dog and his both stop in their tracks to be friendly with one another, both of you feel that it's only natural to make conversation, right? the two of you quickly hit it off, to which you credit mostly to soap for being much more extroverted than you are, and the two of you talk about your dogs for a bit before the conversation focuses on yourselves. smoothly, soap would ask for you to join him on another trip to the dog park sometime, using the excuse that your dogs seemed to like each other.

- soap loves to text you while he's away, and other than gaz, he would be the one to text you the most out of any of the boys. he mostly sends a lot of random pictures of things he says reminds you of him, but will also update you on a bunch of random little things he's doing. "just shit in this french bathroom" "johnny i don't need to know that" "had to tell somebody"

- will leave plenty of his clothes for you to wear while he's gone, and it's practically all you wear during that time. you'll leave the house in an outfit completely made up of your boyfriend's clothes because they're just so comfortable, and it makes you feel less lonely having his scent lingering with you. even when soap is home, you still constantly wear his clothes, and 90% of his wardrobe is practically yours.

- soap would love to visit YOU at work. you forget your chapstick? he's on his way. you text him that you're hungry and forgot to pack a meal? he's bringing you your favorite fast food. although he's busy and can't stop by all the time, soap tries to stop by as often as he can, and all of your coworkers have learned to recognize him. "here comes johnny" one of them will point out, making you quickly whip your head around to look.

[namiusedbubble]

When they have a crush on you

SEBASTIAN SALLOW:

☠️  Sebastian is not the type to hide his crush. Even before he figures it out, everyone around him will know because of how differently he’ll treat you compared to everyone else.

☠️  He’s charming and friendly towards you, which happens to be his biggest tell as he can be quite snappy and temperamental to anyone who interrupts him.

☠️  He tends to become hyper-focused on things, whether it be spending hours with his head buried in a book or diligently searching spider-infested catacombs for a dark relic, there is no stopping him until he gets what he wants. That naturally extends to wooing you.

☠️  Suddenly he’ll find any and all reasons to spend time with you. Oh, you’re good at Herbology? It just so happens that Sebastian is in desperate need of a tutor! Oh, you’re a good duelist? Please help me take down this goblin camp real quick before meeting my family Why don’t you join this exclusive little dueling club I’m in? 

☠️  Not only does he want to spend as much time with you as possible, he also wants to be as close as physically possible without crossing any of your boundaries. He’ll push you behind him when facing enemies, he’ll constantly lean against things with his arm next to your head, and he’ll offer his hand to help you up and down ledges or off your broom.  

☠️  He has a jealous streak, so if he sees you becoming particularly close with anyone he deems a potential romantic threat, he’ll insert himself into the situation and either make an excuse to pull you away or pout and glare until the other person becomes uncomfortable enough that they’ll excuse themselves just to get away from him.

☠️  In any case, I don’t imagine you’ll remain in the “crush zone” for very long. Sebastian can hardly go five minutes around you without saying too much or revealing his or someone else’s secrets, let alone try to keep his feelings hidden when they grow every day you spend with each other.

OMINS GAUNT:

🐍  Ominis is a bit more subtle in his affections than Sebastian. It will take him a while before he approaches you, just so he can be sure he actually wants to pursue you and it isn’t just a fleeting crush. 🐍  He’ll sit near you, but not next to you, in classes and at meal times. He likes hearing your voice as you chat to your friends or make snide remarks about the professors when you think nobody is listening. Sebastian will often catch him smiling at seemingly nothing whenever you’re around. 🐍  You’re both desperately trying to keep yourselves awake in History of Magic one day when Ominis makes a witty comment at the expense of Binns, and he’s floored when you laugh next to him, quietly leaning over to share your own comments about the professor’s riveting tale about another centuries old wizarding war. 🐍  From that day on, Ominis went out of his way to make you laugh. Whenever he’d find you in-between classes, he would sit next to you on the bench and make passing remarks about the other students. It seemed he knew everything about everyone and had something to say about all of it, and you found his little quips absolutely hilarious. You’d always thought Ominis Gaunt was a refined, quiet gentleman, yet here he was tearing into Leander Prewett with no remorse and telling first years that the giant squid liked to feast on children walking too close to the lake. 🐍  He would be so sweet to you, doting, even. If you’d had a particularly stressful week catching up on assignments or running errands for everyone and their dog, Ominis would offer to keep breakfast for you so you could sleep for just a few minutes longer. When he notices you rushing about the castle, he’d stop you to ask if you’d taken a break that day and if you’d like to accompany him to the library for a spot of light reading. On the various occasions you’d come back injured, he would offer you his arm as a way to keep you steady. Eventually, offering you his hand or arm becomes second nature and you’ll find yourselves walking like that even when there’s no need to support you physically. 🐍  I think it would take a long time before Ominis admits his feelings. He enjoys the safety of the courting stage because his family are less likely to involve themselves. He’s also afraid you’ll reject a serious relationship with him because of their reputation and behaviour. He might huff and puff about how it’s a gentleman’s responsibility, but he’d secretly appreciate if you were the one to make the next move.

GARRETH WEASLEY:

🧪  I imagine Garreth would have to be friends with someone before he develops a crush on them. 🧪  While this social butterfly could easily make friends with a wall, that doesn’t mean he knows how to flirt with one. He’s so subtle with his intentions that it’s easy to assume he’s just being his regular, friendly self.

🧪  He would take a break from his experiments to brew you an endless supply of Wiggenweld potions for your adventures. He knew you were capable of handling yourself, but he worries about you and wants to help in any way he can.

🧪  He’d make it a point to accompany you around the castle, offering to carry your books or help with extra assignments. He’d refrain from using you as a guinea pig, but he would ask you to help him find ingredients for various potions, sometimes even at strange hours of the night. Most of the time, he has no use for the things he is asking for, he just wants to spend time with you.

🧪  Despite the Weasleys not having a lot of money, Garreth would always offer to treat you to a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. He often buys (and occasionally swipes) bags of your favourite sweets from Honeydukes, even though he isn’t partial to them himself. He thinks he’s being subtle by asking you to share, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he never takes a single one, instead leaving them all to you.

🧪  Garreth eventually confesses his feelings to you while drunk on the effects of Felix Felicius. He had been trying to brew it for you, knowing you had a particularly difficult mission ahead, but he had to try it first to make sure it wouldn’t turn you purple or make you break out in boils.

AMIT THAKKAR:

⭐  This poor boy somehow manages to be both a stuttering and word vomiting mess around you.  

⭐  One minute he is telling you all about the great tales he plans to write, how Binns will be assigning his books to every student at Hogwarts by the end of the decade, and then you’ll give him that smile and he’s suddenly blushing and stuttering uncontrollably.  

⭐  He’s most comfortable around you at night, when the stars are there to calm his nerves. This is when you’ll get to see the true Amit, the cute, gentle boy who will point constellations out to you for hours if you’re interested. Although he’d much prefer to find real constellations and their associated imagery, you can occasionally rope him into a silly game of ‘connect the stars’, only because he loves the way your face brightens when you vaguely recognise a mooncalf or niffler dotted in the sky. 

⭐  He is incredibly intelligent, so if you ever need help with a subject, you can rest assured that Amit is more than willing to offer you (and only you) his tutoring services, free of charge! ⭐  Amit is 100% going to support you in all of your endeavors, regardless of how much interest he has in them himself. You play on the Quidditch team? He’ll be at every single practice session to cheer you on. You enjoy ballroom dancing in a room full of dead people? He’s now practicing in his common room every night so he won’t step on your feet (Go to sleep Amit, it’s three in the morning!). You name it, he’ll be there, probably reading a theory book about the history of the hobby. ⭐  It might take him ages, but he will 100% confess to you in the cheesiest way possible. Maybe it will be through an original poem personally delivered to you by owl, or maybe it will be through spelling “I  ❤️ U” in the stars. Regardless, he’ll make sure you’ll be melted into a puddle by his sweetness.

[carnivore-voyeur]

Per Eriksson Live Summary - August 26, 2024.

This one was quite long! There's a few funny stories in there and he revealed a lot.

Per introduces the live as a "cult meeting."

He's still in Sweden.

Black River Kult specific updates:

Production issues with hoodies have been solved. Patches are delayed. Orders should be shipped out this week.

They're not going to do another drop until orders are sent out. Guitar picks will not be restocked. The Baphomet shirt will not be restocked.

Someone asked him for hair care tips and he joked that he needs hair care tips for thin, greying hair. He still wears nipple piercings (someone asked).

He has reiterated replicas are being made of his necklace in silver. They will not be cheap and they will be limited. There will be a waiting list. They'll probably cost over $200.

They might do leggings in the future.

He says Kult memberships are at capacity, so you can't officially join via the website until they make them available again.

Someone asked him if he can get them made with pockets, and he said he'd consider it. He's not really sure how they work.

He saved the live, but he said saving the live was contingent on him not saying something insulting or saying something stupid.

He said he's managed to piss people off in the past, which was not his intention at all. Direct quotes:

"I don't mean to insult people, but sometimes you insult people by mistake and sometimes you say something in passing that maybe people can take the wrong way."

"I get enough hate as it is, and if I say something stupid I just get more hate and that's - I don't need it."

He says he started collecting shirts when he was ~13, and he has hundreds of shirts. He has garbage bags of "retired shirts."

He never "lived" in Spain, but he rented an apartment there. He loves Barcelona.

He is friends with Nergal of Behemoth. He says he's a very sweet person.

He says he is working on a music project but he doesn't want to talk about it. He says it's cool, though.

Someone joked in the chat that they're his wife, and Per had to correct confusion in the chat saying this is what happens - people take passing comments out of context and believe them. He's not married.

Zero and Demon (his dogs) are at the Temple of the Black River (their house) where they work as high priests. Zero's full name is John Zero Costello.

He loves Iron Maidan. He grew up on them.

A little funny moment:

He said his necklace has been on his neck "every fucking- (he covers his mouth) every day - I didn't mean to say fuck"

Per hates being cold. He prefers hot. (Fire ghoul indeed). He says he doesn't have any fat on his body so he freezes a lot.

He likes The Walking Dead, but he hasn't really seen the last season(s).

He likes tea.

He said "I cannot make a heart with my hands" (Again lol)

He's very excited about the Silent Hill 2 remake and might want to stream it on Twitch. It's his favorite game of all time. He loves Resident Evil, too.

He mentioned again that he got his infamous Sodomizer tattoo when he was really young as a joke and he wants to have it covered up.

He doesn't regret his back tattoo, but it was painful and expensive. His chest tattoo is his first tattoo.

He would love to learn how to play piano.

He's been to Greece many times and he loves it. He's also loved Turkey. He's a big fan of the Netherlands, too.

Someone asked him what Sound the Dread Alarm comes from. (It's from a Tool song) He showed off his Tool tattoos. (💜💜💜)

(My username is also a Tool reference)

Someone asked if he was straight again. He is. They asked him if he was sure, and he said he's pretty sure. He would've known by now.

He said he's played guitar for 35 years but he's "still pretty sucky at it."

Someone asked him to show his hands and he immediately asked "why?" He was asked about his pinky. When he was 4, someone slammed a door on his finger by accident. The tip of his finger was hanging off. They tried to attach it, but it died. They had to amputate his finger.

The nail is still growing (this is common in finger amputees. It's called a hook nail.) He likes his "claw" - he thinks it's badass. He uses a nail clipper for dogs on it. He uses his nail to drum on glass cups. The only issue he has with it is that when the nail grows out, it catches on his guitar. (Yes, we know! Remember when it bled all over his guitar?)

He uses Tula skincare products (Per in his Beauty Influencer era) He said he walked into Sephora and walked up to the most good looking man in the store and asked him what he should use and Tula was what he used so he's been using it ever since. (It is a good brand, but omg 😂 Good for him for being man enough to ask)

He says some people ask him weird things in the chat.

He says he doesn't wear gold for religious reasons.

He does love Lady Gaga. Great singer. Extremely talented. (Aries folks always hype up Aries folks. 😛) He could not name a single Taylor Swift song.

He wishes he could be a vegan, but his diet is so poor that he will probably die if he cuts out meat entirely.

He's friends with Amon Amarth.

He's not a fan of "modern bands" like Falling in Reverse. He doesn't really understand them. (Not trying to insult these bands, just not his thing.)

(I'm assuming Per isn't big on Metalcore.)

He said he's had some paranormal experiences but not a lot that he wants to talk about.

He said that at the haunted museum in Las Vegas you have to sign a waver b/c you can leave with bruises or ripped clothes. His brand new pants did have rips in them after he visited.

He doesn't recommend going if you suffer from anxiety or you're easily frightened.

He wishes he could go diving with sharks.

He's not a fan of energy drinks.

He says people are obsessed with his height (and his hair). He's not very tall for Sweden. He's shorter than most of his friends. He says "who cares." He has no issue with his height.

He stopped smoking cigarettes, and he quit snus. (Snus is more common in Scandinavia). He did it cold turkey. He quit drinking ~12 years ago, with minimal slips back in between years. When asked about weed, he pretended not to know what that was lol.

He says he may be allergic to alcohol. It makes him very sick.

There's a famous picture of him on the floor and people think he was hammered. It's not true. He had pneumonia. (If you look at the blog post where the image originates, Per talks about being horribly ill. He was still smoking cigarettes, and there's an ash tray on the floor in that picture. Not a glass. He calls himself a fucking idiot for doing that while he has full blown pneumonia.)

He was asked about the picture of him standing with a comically large book. He was on tour with Opeth at the time. He doesn't remember what the book was about.

He learned to be a guitar tech along the way. He's a handy person and he studied as an electrician in school.

[lovebugism]

I love the steddie dynamic so much! What about one where the reader and one of the boys (you choose) are arguing with each other? How would Steve/Eddie react?

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | crossing a line

summary: you and steve have a tendency to argue like you're teenagers again. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson word count: 1.7k warnings: a hint of angst, allusions to sex, barely proofread a/n: i'm so glad you like it because i simply cannot stop writing for them. let the steddie universe commence!

You and Steve had the worst tempers, Eddie concludes. He figures it's because you two have been together for so long. Where he was typically quiet in his anger — a little passive aggressive with a hint of cruel sarcasm — he was still a simple man. All he really needed was a kiss on the cheek and an apology and he was golden.

You and Steve were meaner. Louder. When you two were angry at each other, it’s like you wanted everyone else to know about it. It had to became everybody else’s problem too. It was all slammed doors and cold shoulders and silent treatments. You and Steve held grudges and tended to them like little pets — it was almost laughable how long you two could stay mad over something so little.

Eddie was careful, though, never to choose sides.

It was how this relationship worked after all. Everything was equal. Always. He doesn’t want to tip the scales.

So he stays mostly silent while you and Steve bicker back and forth about the latter boy missing date night. The dinner was tense enough, full of sharp jabs and one-word responses, but the drive back was somehow worse. Maybe because it lacked all the stupid little quips from the both of you. It was totally silent. Eddie even tried putting in your favorite mixtape, but it didn’t soothe the sulking girl in his backseat.

You barely even waited until the car stops to get out. You slam the door so hard it shakes. Stomping to the front door, you spend too long fishing for your keys in your purse because you're too angry to take a second to look for them. And when you find the key ring you miss the lock one, two, three times. They hear the bang of the shut door all the way in the car.

You don’t even look to see if the boys are following you.

Eddie sighs deeply, bringing his chin to his chest. He turns slowly to Steve who's sitting quietly in the passenger seat next to him. “Take a breath before you go in there, man. Alright?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” the brunette boy shrugs with a jutted out lip. He smells like expensive woody cologne and wine. His eyes still glimmer with the faint tinge of alcohol on his tongue when he looks over at him. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re upset,” Eddie corrects. “And she is too. So just… don’t make it worse.”

Steve doesn’t listen, of course. But then again, when does he ever?

They enter the house just moments after you. The two boys become silent spectators to your antics. Everything you do, you do angrily — you rip off your coat and throw it to the couch, you toe of your shoes so rough you scratch the backs of your ankles, you even fill up the dog’s water bowl with a scowl.

Ozzy doesn’t seem to mind though, as he laps happily at the fresh dish in the kitchen.

“There’s the tantrum we’ve been waiting for,” Steve comments to Eddie, purposefully loud enough for you to hear. You can hear the stupid sarcastic smile in his voice.

You’re about to storm off down the hallway, but that stops you in your tracks. You turn on your heels to look at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I just said not to make it worse,” the wild-haired boy sighs in annoyance.

“You were an hour late to dinner, Steve!”

“The meeting ran late!” he yells for the hundredth time, angered that you're still blaming him for something he couldn't control. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Literally anything else! We had to wait for you like idiots! The world doesn’t revolve around you anymore, you know that, right? You’re not King Steve, me and Eddie can’t just sit on our asses and wait at your beck and call—”

“Holy shit,” the boy laughs cynically under his breath. “You sound like my mother right now.”

“Oh shit…” Eddie mumbles to himself.

You’re practically gaping at Steve, wide-eyed in bemusement. “You’re mother?” you thunder once his words finally hit you. It feels like a fucking freight train.

Steve knows he’s crossed a line with that one. Your face burns hot, more so in embarrassment than anger — maybe a healthy mixture of both — and he feels the fire of it radiating off of you. He said it to hurt you, after all, but not that much.

“Okay…” he lilts with his hands on hips. He tries to smile, make a joke of it. “You know that's not what I meant.”

“Yes, it was,” you argue. When you roll your eyes, he sees how glassy they’ve gone, all shiny with unshed tears. You’re stomping off before either of them can comfort you.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries to call after you.

“Fuck you!” you shout back.

Steve looks to Eddie then, with a sheepish chocolate gaze and a small “you were right” sad sort of smile. The latter boy just shakes his head. “You know just how to get under her skin, don’t ya, big boy?”

He tests the water as shuffles towards Eddie, trying measure whether or not he’s angry at him too. The dark-haired boy opens his leather-clad arms for him and allows Steve to melt into his hold. He’d figured as much, when Eddie was angry, you knew it.

Steve sighs against the boy’s shoulder, wraps his hands around his middle, and mumbles into the Metallica tee you'd gotten Eddie for Christmas the year before. “That’s what happens when you’ve been together five years, I guess.”

“So that’s what I have to look forward to then, huh?” Eddie jokes.

“Kinda. Yeah.”

He sighs. “That’s great.”

“You love us,” Steve quips at the boy’s disgruntled tone. He pulls back with a small smile and finds that Eddie's already grinning back at him.

“Yeah... I do.”

“I guess I should go and apologize,” the brunette huffs and parts from the other, looking like a kid that's being forced to do something they desperately don’t want to.

“That wouldn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Eddie responds with a nod, scratching at his stubbly chin to conceal his smile.

Steve finds you in the bedroom, of course, in the middle of peeling of your dress. The lace underwear you were wearing beneath it goes next. He feels like shit for not being the one to take it off of you first. 

You know he’s behind you, but you don’t seem to care too much, or maybe you just ignoring him altogether.

You’re still bare as you rifle through the too large dresser all three of you share. It was organized once upon a time — the top three drawers for underwear, the middle for sleep shirts, the bottom for lounge pants — now it’s just a mismatch of all of your stuff. It didn’t really matter in the end, you ended up sharing everything anyway.

You pull on a pair of Eddie’s boxers and then an old, faded Hawkins Phys Ed t-shirt. You don’t realize its Steve’s until it’s already over you and he sees you scowl about it in the mirror. 

He closes the door behind him, but not enough to latch all the way, as he walks further into the bedroom

“Baby,” he starts.

You’re not having it. “Go away,” you grumble like the cutest little storm cloud.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, I don’t accept your apology.”

“Baby, c’mon,” he says with a little laugh at your words. “I’m sorry.”

He takes you in his arms and holds you against his front so he can press his face into the side of your neck. You’re still frowning, but melting into his warmth with each passing second. He can feel you start to relax against him and you can feel his smile forming against your skin.

You convince yourself that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. That's why you're letting him touch you. Not because he holds all of his love in his hands and radiates a gentle warmth that soothes you almost immediately. Obviously not.

“I can’t believe you’d do that to me,” you mumble into the quiet, fidgeting with your fingers beneath his arms.

Steve feels you lean your head against the side of his own anyway. His sigh brushes against your collarbone. “I promise I’ll try and call ahead next time—”

“I’m talking about you calling me your mom.”

“Oh,” he laughs against you and then stops when he feels you tense in his hold. It's not funny to you. He grows serious again. “I only said that to make you angry.”

“Well, it worked,” you murmur.

“I know it did,” he concedes and rises from the solace of the nook of your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder. It bobs with each word that leaves his mouth. “I’m really sorry. It was mean. I was totally out of line.”

“I don’t know if I could ever forgive you,” you turn your eyes to the ceiling dramatically, a playful smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

He knows your fucking with him now, but he goes along with it anyway.

“I think I could make it up to you,” he mutters against your skin, pressing wet, warm kisses down your neck and then peeling back the collar of your t-shirt to sprinkle them on your bare shoulder too. Your skin cools in the places where his lips leave you, causing chill bumps to rise in his wake.

“Well, yeah, that would only be fair,” you sigh dreamily, like you’re concocting a fantasy of your own in your head. Steve can only wonder what you’re thinking as you spin in his arms to face him, pressing yourself further against him.

His eyes grow heavier and he draws his lip between his teeth at the sheer expectation of what you might make him do. He’ll do anything you asked him to. All of it.

You still make him feel like a teenager in that way. In how he could have you all the time and still never get tired of you — how you feel, how you taste.

You know it, too. That’s why you get all breathy on purpose, wrap your arms around his shoulders and stand on the tips of your toes so your wine-coated breath fans against his jaw. 

“I want you to…” you trail off but he’s already nodding anyway. He probably doesn’t even realize it. It makes you smirk. “…drive to Family Video and pick up every Molly Ringwald movie you’ve got on the shelf and have a movie night with me and Eds.”

Steve mourns the loss of the moment with a groan as he tosses his head back. “You know I hate those movies!” he whines dramatically, neck bare and adam’s apple bobbing. You grab his jaw in your hands and pull him to you so you can press a kiss to it. The skin is rough and stubbly with a five o’clock shadow.

“And I love ‘em. That’s why it’s a punishment, Stevie,” you tease, and tilt his face down so you can kiss the tip of his nose. He barely has the chance to respond to your touch when you peck his lips because you’re already skipping out of the bedroom. “Eds! Can you make some popcorn, please?”

have anymore steddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You sit in the sterile waiting room, slouched like a guilty dog as you stare at your scuffed work shoes and cradle your arm. It feels heavier by the moment, the tenderness only growing, and a regrettable crack sounds as you try to shift it. You grunt and teethe down on your pain. Jonathan looks at you but says nothing.

It feels surreal, sitting there beside him, waiting on a doctor. This isn't how you saw your day going. But when did anything in your life go to plan? Twenty years of marriage flushed away for a younger woman and a midlife crises. Working a job meant for college students in your forties. It's all going just so spectacularly.

Your name is called before you can sink any further into self-pity. You get up but Jonathan doesn't follow. You're happy for that at least. He at least is aware of some boundaries.

It's a small office with only a few doctors. You're put in the room to wait some more and when the physician enters, she introduces herself as Dr. Marguerite Garcia. You try to smile and return her basic niceties. It's hard to focus on anything but the agony. She checks your chart and verifies your history before asking questions about your injury.

She nods and sets down her clipboard. "Do you mind if I do some tests? I'll need to feel your shoulder and move your arm."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'm pretty sure it's just a pulled muscle," you explain.

"Sure, but we should make sure," she nears and you sit up.

She lifts your arm and you squeak. She moves it slowly at different angles, feeling around your shoulders and back, then along your neck. Your eyes fill with tears by the time she lets you put your arm down.

"It would appear like a torn rotator cuff. I could send you for imaging to be sure but I'm fairly certain," she grabs the chart again.

"Really? What does that mean?"

"We won't go straight to surgery. Right now, we'll start with the basics; rest, ice, and physical therapy. I will have some exercises printed out for you to do, along with a link where you can find videos. If you like, I can write a referral to a therapist." She continues as she scribbles with her pen, "I'll send you off with some painkillers as well. You seem like you need the relief."

"Oh, thank you," you smile.

"And I'll get you into a sling. Just for a few days to take some of the pressure off."

"A sling?"

"It shouldn't be too much and it'll be a reminder for you to not use that arm," she girds. "Let me just go get that script filled and I'll have the nurse come fit you."

"Sure," you accept as you look down. Great, a prescription, how much is that going to cost you? And you highly doubt they're giving the slings away for free. Just another expense, just another step backwards.

💙

You get the bottle of pills before the nurse sees you. You take one for good measure as the throbbing overwhelms every other sense. Finally with your arm confined and a pocket full of painkillers, you're free to leave the office.

As you come out into the waiting room, Jonathan stands at the counter. He tucks something into his jacket pocket as he faces you.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Um, I think I have to pay for--"

"Already done," he interjects, "better get you home so you can rest."

"You paid? You didn't have to--"

"Please, it is nothing," he waves you off, "come. I'm sure all you want to do is lay down."

He isn't wrong and you're all out of energy. You're not going to argue with another man that day. You're going to let the pills kick in and leave the world behind.

You let him lead you outside and he opens the car door for you. You're not sure it's any sort of gallant behaviour, rather practical as you are down to a single arm. You get in and awkwardly pull the seat belt across you.

He closes the door as you jam the buckle into place and sit back with a sigh. You shut your eyes. You just can't wait to be home. Alone.

You sense the shift of weight as he gets in on the driver's side. He starts the engine as you stifle a yawn behind your lips and open your eyes, a swimming wobbliness in your vision. The pills are hitting harder than you expected. Well, you hadn't eaten much, just coffee and maybe half a cracker.

"You alright?" He asks as the car rolls into motion and you open your eyes.

"Great," you grumble and let your eyelids droop as your head drifts towards the window. "Tired..."

You watch the buildings pass, other cars stopping and skimming by. You lose yourself in the lazy traffic and the dimming blueness of the sky. Your lashes sink further and further, until they meet, and that hot fuzziness coaxes them together. The pain in your shoulder dulls, barely tugging at your consciousness as it fades away.

[murdrdocs]

So so so Rian Johnson (dir of knives out) said that Ransom's clothes are all ripped and worn out because he doesn't take care of them since he can just buy new clothes whenever, thinking about when you're seeing Ransom that philosophy applies to your clothes as well. It doesn't matter that he keeps literally ripping your clothes off of you when he fucks you because he'll just take you shopping for new clothes the next day (and will probably rip them off of you again in the changing room)

reader is lifted by ransom; subtle size kink; MDNI 18+

the click of your shoes against ransom's floor sends him downstairs, calling to him like the bell to pavlov's dog. you're slipping the back of your heels off of your feet when he pads over to you as you're expecting him to make some sly comment about damaging the expensive floors he handpicked.

instead, as soon as he gets to you, he has his hands on your hips, pushing you back towards the nearest surface. you're wobbling from uneven heights, one foot lacking the shoe that adds a few inches to you. you're forced to overcompensate by standing on the ball of your foot, unable to stop the immovable force pushing you back.

he doesn't say anything. he doesn't respond to your rambling about how uncomfortable this is, nor does he respond to your pleas for him to stop so you can slip your other shoe off. apparently, your words are at least getting through to him, because he plants his hands under your thighs, lifts you up, and carries you the rest of the way.

you're so close to thanking him as your back meets the cushion of the couch. you're so close to letting all of your worries from the day disappear when ransom gets on his knees in front of you. you think that finally, you would be able to relax.

and then ransom rips your pantyhose.

you're staring down at him, glaring, even, trying to catch his eye. he has tunnel vision, focused on the little pair of panties that you wear. he gets his hands on the crotch of those, too, and before he can deliver the same fate, you close your legs and sit up.

he has to look offended and confused. "what's the matter with you?"

it's stupid really, how he pretends to not know. really, you know he knows, he just doesn't care enough to consider how you feel about having yet another pair of pantyhose ruined.

almost brattishly, you tell him that.

ransom rolls his eyes. he licks his lips and sighs, blinking up at you. "you know i'll buy you another pair."

"that doesn't matter, ransom. it's the principle!"

his hands are still stuck between your thighs, which gives him enough leverage to push your legs apart as he discredits your exclamation.

"here we go again with the fuckin' principle."

you start to talk over him until he stops speaking, not saying anything of much substance but solely expressing your frustration. you know he doesn't really care, especially when he has one of his favorite things just in hands reach. but he sits and listens. unhappily, but he listens.

and as soon as your spiel is over, ransom holds the crotch of your panties taunt and tears them apart with a loud, almost comical, rip. he already his head between your thighs before you can chastise him.

effectively, the first lick placates you.

[ghostlycandydreamer]

Rating the inner circle on how I think our first date would go

(A lot of Grammer mistakes are in the following)

Rhysand 4/10

I don't think it would go well he'd go way out too early and invite me to a high-class fancy restaurant. And that would make me uncomfortable. He probably can't find a person that's not a gold digger, and if he does find someone good, he will overwhelm them with how much money he has, leading to no second dates.

Will make me order the most expensive options on the menu.

Would get mad if I asked him on his dating history.

Is the type to call his ex crazy.

Would try to banter and be smug and smooth but I'll probably misinterpret that as him being mean(I have autism)

Would also say something like

"I can cure autism"

Def read my intrusive thoughts and think I'm insane.

Over all bad date and will not call me back.

But will call to make sure I got home safe.

Will tell the group chat about me, then have them throw shade on social media.

Feyre 6/10

Would probably do a chill date.

Like a movie at her place then dinner.

Dinner will be like pizza and some cool drinks.

Her emotional constipated touch starved ass will do that arm thing. You know the one, the yawns then puts their arm over your shoulder. It will be awkward.

The movie willlllll definitely be something like a blumhouse movie .

Will tell jokes that do not land. It will leave me like.

She gives off the vibes that she probably has no idea what she's doing, and it shows.

Ends up talking to much about how toxic her ex boyfriend and his friends where

Over all its nice but too awkward for a second date.

Cassian 2/10

Is Def the type to tell you to wear a dress then take you hiking.

Is the type to laugh at his own jokes then talk over you.

Unintentionally (intentionally) mansplains things to you.

Will laugh at me for being tired on a hike.

Will compliment me but it always sounds so back handed

"That dress isn't what I was expecting"

"Oh you look different"

"I think the dress really reflects who you are"

Definitely has a mini rant about modern women. It's never really misogynistic, but bordering it.

Will pay attention more to the wilderness then if I'm okay.

Will be surprised that I'm crying and tired.

Will call me to ask why the date didn't go well.

Will rant to Rhys about how he keeps getting blocked.

Azriel 7/10

It will be a nice pic nic date.

He's is the I know a spot guy. Beautiful view ,tent, food, fairy lights, and a boom box with a good mixtape ready.

Makes me feel special and heard.

Has the best date food.Not too heavy but not too light.

Gives me his coat of I get cold.

Takes beautiful pictures of me.

Is poetic

Will let me yap and speak on through the date.

The only red flag is that he's so secretive. He barely talks about his life,his goals,his day-to-day.

And that's very noticeable and suspicious.

Overall nice date .

Will call back and you will have a second date

The Morrigan 5/10

The best date ever

Nice restaurant with an awesome atmosphere.

Best conversationalist.

Compliments you in the best ways.

You fall for her immediately.

She makes you laugh, is so intelligent, is wonderful overall...

But then you mention politics.....oh boy

Will say that she's a girls girl, but you notice how she talks shit on Twitter to other women.

She's the type to talk about ALL WOMEN STRUGGLING if your a marginalized woman mentioning the discrimination you face.

She's also the type that says "they should just find a job"

"Or poor people should just work harder"

Great date, but our politics don't align and no second date.

Will probably kiss at the end of the date but her thick layer of lipstick will annoy me.

Armen -100/10

Worst date ever

Shows up fashionably late.

Doesn't understand why I'm mad

"You should know I'm a busy woman"

Will looks me up and down , making me feel self conscious.

Perpetual make unnecessary passive aggressive comments.

Will snap at the waiter for making a mistake.

Snaps her fingers at the waiter like he's a dog or something.

Talks business instead of romance.

Her flirting will come off like straight up insults

Will judge you for your interest

"Well I'm an artist-"

"You can't even draw"

😐😑

Will straight up just talk about work, is so bad at talking about anything else.

Definitely will make you feel poor

"I like your dress and neckla-"

"It's Balenciaga"

"....that's nice"🙃

If she does genuinely compliment me, it sounds ai generated.

"Your eyes are like the brown of freshly grown forest trees about to be cut down buy a lumberjack"

"Wow thanks. Your eyes are beautiful too"

"I know"

Will answer Rhysands calls during the date.

Will tip the staff at least but will say something like

"Be nicer next time and smile more"

Won't notice that I didn't call her back for a second date and goes on with life.