#i will not have the same patience for the others

[thatgaytevinter]

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS. page breaking bc i have to talk about my boy.

tldr: chis are so smart, and i love them. i will beat you with a stick if you think they have one brain cell that just yaps. im mourning one, so i kind of derailed in this, so im sorry this is long. feel free to skip.

i have 1 chihuahua at the moment, but I have had the opportunity and blessing to love 3 chihuahuas in my time.

chihuahuas. know. everything.

yes, they are alert dogs with big ears and yappy mouths. but they have a purpose, and they were bred for that, and they know.

Kunai, my current and only chihuahua right now is the best example of this ever. we say he is in the same situation as Salem from Sabrina. hes just WAY too intelligent.

kunai knows that a specific reflection bouncing off the wall from the little windows on my front door means someone is in the driveway. he even knows, now, that specific reflections mean different cars. he howls differently when my dad pulls up than when my mom does. he doesnt do his 'i love you bark' when he sees the reflection of my uncle's car. He stares at the wall the reflections bounce off now when someone isnt home or its around 3:30 (usually when other people pull up to the house).

he knows that when my mother puts River up, she is waking up my dad for work (which means he gets to go to bed soon), so he will direct all the other dogs and US to our places so he can get there faster. BUT he also has immense FOMO, so he will pretend to eat his food until we all say goodnight and depart to our respective rooms so that mom doesn't pick him up to take him to bed.

he is an actor. he loves a good dramatic and will play it up and in different ways to get what he wants.

my 2 other chis, Honey and Poco, were also very intelligent and loving. they were more empathic, though, if you understand the difference in what im saying about them and kunai. they weren't dumb. They knew perfectly what was going on, but they didn't have the patience to deal with it the way Kunai does. they knew when you didn't like a person or you were uncomfortable. they cared more for your emotions than their own at times to their own detriment.

Kunai is truly hard to explain without you seeing him in action in person, but he is a master manipulator. and i dont mean in the usual 'puppy dog eyes' way. i mean full production: swooning, gaslighting, Purposeful and Deliberate Shunning.

He's my little person in a little furry suit, and i treat him as such. everyone in the house does. he understands us, and it confounds people that we dont baby talk our chis. he knows what we're saying, and he WILL ARGUE if he doesn't think it's the correct action to take. He's much more sensible than most in my family, and im not being biased at all. he knows better than them.

i love chihuahuas. i will defend them to my dying breath. i miss their barks frequently and how they didn't listen to me. their hearts often can't take the amount of love they have for their people.

It fucks with me that dog intelligence is tested with obedience tests, so there's a significant bias towards compliant dog breeds. Dogs that are intelligent enough to understand what is being asked of them, but are too headstrong and/or independent to go through with it, get lumped up with the dogs that might want to do what people ask them to do, but are too stupid to understand the assignment.

And it fucks with me that chihuahuas are actually quite intelligent. They're not stressed and angry because they're too stupid to understand what's going on. They understand exactly what's going on, and that's why they're so angry and stressed.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Magic Lessons p.2 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Things escalate with your boss, Bill Weasley, at the twins birthday party when you plot to make him jealous. But he gets his revenge back at the office.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, jealous!Bill, reader gets a lil toxic, oral (f receiving), age gap, bill is a pleasure dom I don't make the rules, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language

>Part One

Things shifted between you and Bill after that night. You were more than just coworkers, mentor and apprentice, you developed a mutual understanding.

And what started as a little crush has grown into a beast with teeth, eating you alive, consuming every spare moment of your life. You had never felt so connected to someone before, so attuned to their feelings and desires, like your souls were tied together.

You couldn't be sure how he felt about you, but he seemed to read your mind as well as you did his. He somehow could anticipate your needs, no matter how trivial, and would go well out of his way to ensure those needs were met.

He was also fiercely protective, a trait of his that claimed several more victims than Waylan as the weeks progressed. But for you, Bill seemed to have a never ending well of patience. You couldn't ignore the amount of times you caught his gaze lingering on you, or the frequency he went out of his way to touch you, to help you, to serve you.

But you just couldn't believe that Bill Weasley would be even remotely interested in someone like you. Not to mention, the professional boundaries of your relationship were still intact.

It had been three months since the incident with the cursed axe, and it was the twins birthday. You hadn't spoken about the fact that you would both be attending the same party outside of work, but the thought made your nerves tingle with adrenaline.

You and Bill had only seen each other at work or during work-related functions. But this, attending a family party, felt like uncharted territory.

Would he be willing to cross the lines of professionalism? You weren't sure. Would you be willing to risk a career at Gringotts? Again, you weren't sure. But every day, it became harder and harder to ignore the burgeoning heat between you, that soul tie winding tighter and tighter.

You were at a standstill, paralyzed by indecision, and it was driving you mad.

The two of you were the last in the office, and you slipped away to get ready in the bathroom while he finished things up. You changed into your outfit, a maxi dress in your favorite color with a pair of heeled boots, and refreshed your makeup.

You did a small turn in the mirror, a wave of insecurity making you doubt your selection. Was it too tight for a birthday party? Too formal? Not formal enough?

Well, it was the only one you brought, so it would have to do. You collected your things a returned to Bill's office.

When you pushed open the door, you found him mid-change, wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and fastening a black belt around his waist, his shirt folded neatly on the desk.

You knew he was strong from years of hard travel, but this. He was lean and toned, broad shoulders with a narrow waist, and even littered with scars from Fenrir’s attack, he was gorgeous.

“Oh! Bill, sorry. I didn't—” You managed to tear your gaze from his body up to his face, finding his eyes glued to you, jaw a little slack, and the apology died in your throat.

He lowered his hands to his sides, belt still undone. The simmering heat between you bloomed to an inferno at your open perusal of one another, and you found yourself taking a step towards him, brainless as a moth.

His hands flexed, then balled into fists, and you paused, a flicker of reality passing through the haze of desire.

“We need to go,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing his shirt.

You nodded, disappointment setting like a stone in your stomach.

You took the Floo System to the Burrow, managing to arrive only five minutes late.

“Bill!” His family cried, swarming him. But the twins went straight for you.

“Y/n! Look at you!” George gushed, pulling you in for a hug.

“Happy birthday to us,” Fred smirked, and you swatted his arm before pulling him in for a hug. Over Fred's shoulder, you caught Bill glaring daggers at his younger brother, but he quickly schooled his expression and turned his attention back to his father.

The twins introduced you to the few family members you hadn't met, and you answered the dozens of questions they threw your way while dinner was served. Bill was ignoring you almost entirely, caught up in conversation with his father and Percy. You knew you shouldn't take it personally, you were just colleagues after all, but it still rankled, and you could feel an attitude brewing.

Then, a wicked idea wormed it's way into your mind.

You laughed loudly at one of George's jokes, leaning into his side while he gestured in the air. He draped his arm over you, the type of platonic physical contact the two of you did all the time, but Bill didn't know that.

You saw Bill’s sharp eye snag on the movement, and bit your lips to keep from smiling at your small victory.

A few moments later, you reached over to take a sip of Fred's beer, making a show of wrapping your lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fingers delicate on the glass. You set the bottle down, then shifted to whisper something in Fred’s ear, your hand resting on his. You didn't say anything of real interest, just a little inside joke between the two of you. Fred chuckled, turning to whisper something back to you, and you grinned, winking at him.

You risked a glance at Bill and saw him white knuckling his empty whiskey glass, eyes trained on the birthday cake at the center of the table, and your confidence swelled.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you like some help clearing up for dessert?” You asked, batting your lashes.

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” She chirped, grinning at you.

You jumped up and started to collect the plates, using your wand to clear away the food. Moving around the table, you reached Bill, who was chatting with Ron about Ministry things. You leaned over Bill's shoulder, brushing against his arm to retrieve his plate, but he didn't react. Didn't even look up at you.

You huffed internally and brought the dishes to the kitchen, casing a spell so they'd wash themselves. You went to the fridge, retrieving a fresh beer for Fred and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey from the counter.

You returned to the dining room and set the beer in front of Fred, who accepted with a smile.

“Thanks, love,” he cooed, taking a sip.

Then, you filled George's whiskey, careful to pour the correct amount. You could feel Bill’s eyes burning into you, his jaw clenched, and a giddy excitement flared in your lower belly. You capped the whiskey, licking a stray drop from your thumb, and returned it to the kitchen, leaving Bill’s glass dry.

Cake was served, and you let George feed you a few forkfuls while you and Fred told a few of your favorite stories from your time together at Hogwarts.

You knew you'd done it when Bill excused himself to smoke, a habit he never indulged in at work.

You knew it was wrong to push him, to strain whatever tenuous balance the two of you held, but you just couldn't help yourself. He was driving you insane.

After dessert, everyone ventured back into the living room for games and more drinks, and you slipped outside to find Bill.

He found you first.

An arm snaked out of the shadows and tugged you into the dark, directly into a hard chest.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Bill growled against your ear, the smell of smoke and whiskey clouding the air around him.

“I don't know what you mean,” you replied, tilting your head.

His took a drag off of his cigarette, glaring at you through the smoke. “You know better than to lie to me,” he warned.

“I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Mr. Weasley,” you teased, desire spilling through your body and making your thighs clench.

His free hand lifted, skimming your throat before moving around the nape of your neck. “It already kills me that they met you first, that they know you so well.” His grip tightened, scruffing you, and you gasped. “Is this what you wanted?” He rasped, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes, Bill,” you whimpered, pressing your body against his. “Please.”

He smiled, a wolfish, sharp thing, and dragged you the last few inches to his mouth. It was a rough kiss, a culmination of weeks of longing, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned, getting drunk off of his lust, his dominance.

It was so different than his usual professional, collected demeanor. You knew he had an edge to him, an undercurrent of darkness that made him so adept at handling curses, but you never expected this. Having him be so rough, so needy, it made you want to climb him like a tree.

He flipped the two of you around, pressing you into the wall, his free hand splaying across your lower back to keep your hips anchored to his as he leaned into you. He felt so different than the other boys you'd been with, so confident and commanding, knowing exactly how to handle you and your desperation.

“Bill,” you gasped, head falling back as he kissed and licked down your throat, his teeth grazing your fluttering pulse. It felt like he was devouring you, biting off chunks of your rationality, your resolve, until you were nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his arms.

His hand released your neck, sliding down to grab your waist. “But now I know you better, and I. Don't. Share.” Each snarled word was like shot of adrenaline to your heart, forcing your already dizzy self to clutch his shoulders to stay upright.

You nodded, desperate to be closer to him, to have him touch you. His possessiveness drove you crazy, had you practically foaming at the mouth for him, but he wasn't having it.

He grabbed your hands and removed them from his body, and you whined in protest. “Behave, and go back inside before you smell like smoke,” he ordered, though his voice was decidedly softer than before, almost breathless. He nudged you away from him and took another draw of his cigarette, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the glowing tip.

Reluctantly, you ventured back inside, your thighs sticky with slick and knees weak. You were so focused on what you could do to drive him mad, you forgot entirely about what he could do to you.

So, you were in your best behavior the rest of the night. Charming the parents, befriending the other siblings, being as fun and social as you could manage. By the end of the night, you were buzzed, socially drained, and unbelievably horny, ready to pounce on Bill every time you caught his eye.

“Alright, we have to get to the bank early tomorrow. Y/n, I'll take you home.” He gave you a pointed look and you nodded. “Goodnight, family!” Bill called, hugging his siblings before ushering you towards the Floo Station.

“Happy birthday!” You hugged Fred and George on your way past, and half-stumbled into the Floo Station from exhaustion.

Bill caught you with a strong arm around your waist and held you up, casting the spell before his family could see how close your bodies were.

The next moment, you were back in the office, head spinning from the booze and the magic.

“Alright, love?” He asked, tightening his grip on you when you swayed on your feet.

You nodded and he released you, leaving you cold and unsteady. You walked in silence back to his office to get your things.

When you arrived, you stopped in the doorway. “M’sorry about earlier,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“So am I,” he replied, walking towards his desk and loosening his tie. Your stomach dropped.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, bracing yourself for rejection. “I was the one that acted like an idiot.”

He looked up at you, a sharpness in his eyes. “Don't speak about yourself like that,” he snapped, and you nodded, looking at the floor.

You heard the tread of footsteps, then his hand reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They were stormier than you'd ever seen them, the sky before a shipwreck.

“I'm sorry for being so rough with you, I can be—” his eyes flicked away, brow pinching in consternation. “After the attack, and the war, and the divorce…I can be cruel, angry. It's a part of me I don't like to show,” he admitted. “So I'm sorry if I frightened you, or overstepped.”

“You didn't frighten me,” you said, placing a tentative hand on his sternum, wanting to comfort him. “Far from it.”

He searched your face as you gazed up at him, starry eyed, and the silence stretched for a few moments.

“This is what I saw,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” You asked, practically trembling with anticipation.

“When you wore the Chameleon necklace,” he replied, his eyes tracing the hollow of your throat before lifting back up to your face. “I saw you like this.”

“You wanted to see me like…this?” You asked, looking down at your dress, confused.

He shook his head, his hand moving up to caress your cheek. “No, not the dress,” he said, so close you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That right there,” he hummed with a soft, satisfied smile, his thumb smoothing just underneath your lower lashline. “The desire in your eyes.”

Heat scorched your skin and your tried to pull away out of embarrassment, but he held you firm.

“No, darling. You're done hiding from me,” he said, the petname making your pussy thrum, slick collecting on the inside of your thighs. “I've been waiting to see that look in your eye. To see you need me as badly as I've needed you.”

Your heart stalled, your thoughts turning to static.

Needed me?

“I had to be sure this was what you really wanted, that I wasn't just seeing what I wanted to see…” he trailed off, expression softening as he continued to look into your eyes.

“I didn't think you wanted me,” you whispered, in complete disbelief. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Perhaps we both have.” He bumped his nose against yours, warm breath fanning against your skin. “You've ruined me. My entire life I've been the epitome of restraint. But with you—” His thumb tugged at your lower lip, sending a tendril of arousal curling down your spine. “I can't seem to help myself.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to ruin me too.”

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, feeding his thumb into your mouth. You flicked your tongue over it, tasting the salt of his skin before sucking lightly. “I intend to.”

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a breathtaking, soul-deep kiss that you felt through every nerve ending. You kissed him back eagerly, tugging his hair as he hauled you closer, lifting you into the air so you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you across the office and set you down onto one of the overstuffed leather armchairs, the same one he conducted your interview in. He kissed you a moment longer, his tongue delving in to taste you before he withdrew and lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“I'm going eat my fill of you, and you’re going to take it all,” he ordered, his voice rough and breathy, chest rising and falling quickly. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” you answered, nodding like an overeager bobble-head.

He chuckled, his eyes holding yours as he gathered up the fabric of your dress and pushed it up your legs, kissing your knees, and up your inner thighs, his long hair tickling the sensitive skin until he reached your clothed cunt, your white panties betraying how aroused you were.

“Look how pretty you are,” he exhaled, breath warm against your skin. “All this for me, baby?”

You nodded, combing your fingers through his red hair so you could see the lovesick look on his handsome face, his eyes soft and mouth upturned at the corners. It was all in such stark contrast to the brutal scars on his face, silvery in the waning candlelight.

You couldn't imagine someone being more beautiful than Bill was in this moment.

He hummed low in his throat, his tongue licking a stripe over your sodden panties and making you whine, desperate for him to touch you.

“How many times have you orgasmed in a row?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“Oh, uh—” your cheeks warmed, caught off guard by the question. “Only once with a partner. Twice on my own. Why?”

You felt him smirk as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your swollen clit. “Three, then.”

“Three—oh god,” you moaned, grip tightening on his hair as he laved his tongue through your slit, flicking against your bud before repeating the motion, two, three, five times.

He nursed your clit between his teeth, lashing it with his tongue and making you buck your hips up, the pleasure too intense to hold still. He dropped a forearm over your lower stomach to keep you from moving away, your nails dragging across his skin as you cried out.

He moved down to your entrance, lapping at the pool of slick there before thrusting his tongue inside. With his other hand, he began to massage your clit with his thumb, the rough pad creating delicious friction over your sensitive skin.

Fuck, you could feel your orgasm building already, a coil of heat making your whole body tense and shake, unable to escape his pleasurable assault with his heavy arm holding you down.

“Taste so sweet,” he murmured against you, kitten licking your clit to make you twitch and gasp. He pulled back and spit on your pussy, gliding two fingers through your lips before easing one inside your drooling entrance. “Good girl, can you take another? I know you can—thaaaat’s it, love. Little pussy sucking me right in, so perfect for me.” He was speaking directly against your clit, the movement of his lips and flick of his tongue making your mind go fuzzy, your body ratcheting closer to release by the second.

He curled his fingers inside you, his lips finally sealing to your clit again, and you keened. Sensing you were close, he increased his pace, ruthlessly dragging you to the very edge.

“God, Bill—shit, I'm gonna come!” You cried, your fingers threading through his in an attempt to hang on while he sent you to orbit.

With a final flutter of his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you, you broke, a burst of dizzying pleasure making your eyes roll back, your body convulse in his hold as your orgasm tore through you.

“That's one,” he purred, only slowing for a moment so you could take a full breath before he ramped up his movements again, adding a third finger to your sloppy channel.

“Fuck, I can't—” you whined, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as your body was wound tight once again, helpless as a ballerina in a music box.

“You can. You will,” he ordered, his tone making your pussy clench around his fingers. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You've got me now, darling."

“Bill, I—” you screamed as he bit down on your clit, sending you directly back over the edge again, your first orgasm not even fully dissipated before the second one slammed into you, faster and stronger, white hot. Like he'd forced it out of you with his expert touch and tongue.

“That's two. Well done, my love,” he cooed, soothing the bite with his tongue and gently removing his fingers.

You were in a daze, trembling and liquified, practically boneless in the chair. You'd never come so hard on your life.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, reaching up to pat your cheek with his wet fingers before feeding them into your open mouth. “Not done yet, love.”

You sucked your release off his digits, mindless and happy to do whatever he wanted, so long as he keeps touching you like that.

He withdrew his fingers and lowered his head between your legs again, dragging his tongue through your sensitive folds, smiling when you shivered. With slow, unhurried strokes, he cleaned up the mess he'd made of you, making wide circles around your clit to apply less direct pressure and avoid overstimulating you.

“I could stay here forever,” he groaned, the vibration making you gasp. “Give me one more, yeah? Please? Let me be the one that takes you there.”

It was surreal, being completely at his mercy, yet he's the one begging you to let him make you come again. He'd rendered you completely brainless, and still wanted to give you more.

And you still had barely gotten to touch him.

It was the most delicious torture, the most exquisite suffering, and you knew you were so royally fucked.

There was no going back from this.

“Wanna touch you,” you whimpered, too far gone to do anything but squirm.

“Not yet, I told you how this was going to go. One more, then you’re getting some rest.” He hiked your leg over his shoulder, nuzzling against your pussy. “You don't want to be exhausted at work tomorrow, do you?”

You shook your head, having forgotten completely about anything that wasn't Bill Weasley and his magic fucking tongue.

“Good girl. Now relax and let me work.” He lifted you up slightly, angling you directly towards his mouth, and he resumed feasting, taking big, messy licks and sucks of your cunt, the sounds lewd and unabashed, and you fucking loved it.

You did as your were told and relaxed your muscles, sinking deeper into the chair with your legs in the air. You'd submitted to him already, but this was a a true surrender, passing your entire self, body and soul into his hands. Trusting that he would take care of every part of you.

“That's it, baby,” he praised, kissing your sticky thighs before returning to suckle your clit, making your body hum back to life, pleasure beginning to mount once more.

You moaned his name, nails biting into the leather as he brought you higher and higher, his languid, self-indulgent movements making your head spin.

Feeling your body start to tremble, he flicked his tongue out, just the tip tickling against your hyper-sensitive bud, and you rolled over the edge, simmering, honeyed pleasure spilling through you as you came a third time. It wasn't a harsh, debilitating orgasm, but a blissful release of endorphins that brought tears to your eyes, your muscles and bones unraveling down to the cellular level.

“And there's three,” he said, placing a final, tender kiss to your clit before righting your panties and pulling your dress down.

You were completely blissed out, in your own world as he tugged you off of the chair and into his lap, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck and jaw.

“Come back to me, love. Let me see those pretty eyes so I know you're alright,” he murmured against your cheek, his hands absently massaging your thighs and hips to guide you back into your body.

You blinked your eyes open, turning to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, your chest warm with affection.

“There she is.” He smiled, catching your lips in a soft, sipping kiss. “Okay, love?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “That was—I’ve never—”

“You were amazing. And if you didn’t look ready to pass out, I would be taking number four and five.” He helped you sit up, fixing your hair and wiping away a streak of mascara with his thumb.

“Not possible,” you giggled, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, your hand moving down to cup his scarred cheek. “As talented as you are, there's no way I could come again.”

He smirked, leaning into your palm. “I guess we'll have to find out. C’mon, let’s get you home.” He helped you to your feet, your knees a little wobbly, collected your things, and led you back out to the Floo Station.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You asked, taking your things from his arms.

“For a bit, but I leave tomorrow afternoon for Cairo, remember?” He looked genuinely apologetic for having to leave, and your heart deflated a bit, disappointed that you wouldn’t see him for a week, maybe more.

“Right, Cairo,” you said, trying to hide how you felt.

“Hey.” He reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. “If it wasn’t so dangerous, I’d take you with me. But I can’t risk something happening to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Plus I need a capable curse-breaker to manage things here.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, nosing into his neck and breathing him in.

He held you quietly for another moment, his hand trailing up and down your spine before you finally pulled back, yawning.

“Go on, I’ll see you in the morning.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, love.”

You stepped into the station and grabbed a handful of the floo powder. “G’night,” you said with a sleepy smile, and cast the spell to transport you home.

Though, you realized with a nervous pang, it felt like you were doing the opposite.

Thank you so much for reading!

Comment if you'd like to be included in the taglist for the next part <3

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger

[xjcjuis]

ARE YOU COMING HOME?

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: she gets a lovely surprise while on tour

warnings: nothing but FLUFF i love fluff, not proofread

wordcount: 0.9k

a/n: very late merry christmas and happy new year!! not my best work but please enjoy! anyways i need to be picked up and spun around plsplspls

long distance relationships are never easy, especially when your girlfriend is one of the most famous singers in the world. she's on tour right now, overseas and so, so far away from you and your empty arms.

or so she thinks.

billie's voice is a little tinny through the phone, crackles from foil heard as she unpacks the snacks she'd bought after her show. you watch in contentment, hugging a pillow to your chest with a leg exaggeratedly thrown over it, arm starting to go numb from holding the device up.

"i bought your favorite sweets too," she says, cutting the silence. "missing you so much, i really wish you could be here to steal from me." she ends her statement with a pout. oh, how you wish you could kiss that pout off of her lips. but soon. all you need right now is patience.

"so your friends- you guys went to a hotel just to watch a movie?" billie asks, a little confused. it was the best excuse you could think of out of nowhere.

"yup," you reply, popping the p. "they're not around right now, though. out shopping. i'm too broke and lazy to go out."

"i told you you could use my card, though."

"i'm not using your card, billie."

"you could if you wanted."

"no."

she frowns, as if she were the one losing something. billie did that a lot: shower you with expensive gifts and treats and dates and refuses to accept anything back. the fact only makes you happier about your plan, knowing she'd ask about the cost but it wouldn't really matter anyway because both of you were benefitting.

"when are you coming home?" a trick question. "i miss you so so bad. and i miss staying home with shark and just cuddling together. our bed is so cold without you."

"oh?" billie grins, eyebrow raising. before she could comment anything inappropriate, the doorbell rings on her end of the line. "ah, that must be room service. i ordered dinner. be back in a minute, love."

you grin to yourself now as she turns away to answer the door, knowing that there was a very big chance that it was, in fact, not room service. your ears prick up at the hint of a gasp, muffled voices exchanging polite conversation, and billie returns in frame holding a huge bouquet of flowers, an even huger smile on her face.

she was practically glowing, outshining the sweat and slight tiredness formerly seen on her face from her performance. "you're kidding me."

"what?!" you ask, laughing. your heart swells with pride.

"you didn't seriously get me this from, what, on the other side of the world?" your girlfriend asks incredulously, admiring the little pink and white petals you'd picked out and reading the note that said nothing but 'i'm proud of you'.

you push yourself up off the bed, casually pulling on a pair of socks before slipping on your shoes, making sure to not let it be seen on camera. "i had to call in a couple of favors from your manager, of course. i'm sorry it's not in my handwriting."

and it wasn't, because you knew that billie would recognize your strokes immediately, and that would blow everything else off.

you make your way to the main hotel door, making sure your face covered the background so that the girl on your phone didn't see its similarities to her own room. "hold on, baby, i'll call you back."

the singer's dark brows furrow at your abrupt dismissal. "okay. don't take too long."

"love you."

she didn't get to reply before you click on the red button and dash to the elevator, pressing her floor in the same hotel (though she didn't know it yet), having memorized the number by heart when she told you yesterday.

you get there, just in time for the room service server to roll his cart of to her door. pushing your nerves aside, you walk right up to him and excuse the interruption. "hi, sorry. my girlfriend is in this room and i was hoping to surprise her, would you mind if i borrowed your hat?"

he agrees, barely hiding a smile. thanking him, you took a deep breath to compose yourself, jamming the hat onto your head. your hand lingers over the bell, glancing nervously at the server, who in turn nods encouragingly at you.

ding.

footsteps can be heard from inside, and you count to five before the door swings open and you drop your head to hide your face, resorting to deepening your voice. "hello ma'am, room service-"

"y/n?" she gasps in recognition, incredulous. billie's hand is frozen on the doorknob, staring in disbelief.

finally, you raise your head and hand the server his hat back, your smile having difficulty in concealing a laugh. "surprise?"

you're unable to do anything more when billie snatches you up by the waist, raises you, and spins you around dramatically, her own lips wide in a grin. the sudden movement messes up your hair, getting it over your shoulder and behind and swept towards the opposite side but she didn't care. your girlfriend pulls you in close in a tight hug, one arm around your waist and the other resting upon your spine.

her happiness can still be felt blind.

she wouldn't let go, not for a second to get inside, not to formally accept the room service food, so you thank the server over her shoulder.

he leaves you and billie to your moment a little awkwardly.

"you didn't tell me you were here!" she whines into your hair.

you laugh. "that's the point of a surprise, bils."

"i can't believe you actually flew here. you hung up on me. i love you so so so much, you know that?"

"yes, i know." another soft smile graces your face. "i love you so so so much too."

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter six

synopsis: you and mahalat come to an impasse during battle. and phosphorus saves your ass.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, reader has a bit of a psychotic break, mahalat is horrible.

"Da?" Alexi raised a brow, keeping a hand on the wheel as he picked up the phone.

He paused a moment, expression darkening slightly as he glanced at the Bride, who was sitting in the passenger.

"Da."

He paused again, brows dropping sternly.

"Da."

With a quick snap, he hung up, plastering on his usual happy expression and turning to everyone, as if you didn't notice the huge change in atmosphere.

"He says there is unfortunate traffic on the way to the castle, so we should take alternative route."

With a small rev, he cut a corner, turning into a random side street with a completely straight face.

After arriving at the Pokolistan airport once again, you were greeted by Alexi, he, as well as the other guards, completely oblivious to the true objective of your mission.

Kill the princess.

You almost felt bad, seeing as these people had been nothing but nice to you.

But orders were orders, and the quicker you got this out of the way, the quicker you could go back home.

Discreetly, you glanced at Phosphorus, him doing the same, the two of you silently noting the odd behavior before going back to your usual shenanigans.

"Quit man-spreading. Your leg's takin' up most of my room," you ordered, lowly, using your knee to push his closer to the door.

"It's a cramped car, sweetheart, you barely had any room to begin with," he shrugged you off, widening his spread to fight back against your assault before patting his thigh. "But I got a space right here for you. Free parking. No handicap."

"And feel your disco stick stab me every time we drive over a pothole? No thanks," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Sounds delightful to me."

"To you," you emphasized.

"Could use my arm as a seat belt."

"Don't think I can file a sexual harassment complaint against a seat belt."

"Sexual harassment? Where?" he asked, sarcastically, whipping his head around as if he was looking for something.

"Half the shit that falls out your mouth is sexual. And you haven't stopped harassing me since this whole thing started."

"Last I checked, Belle Reve didn't have HR."

"And last I checked, skeletons didn't have dicks. But here you are."

Glancing into the side mirror, the Bride raised a brow, noticing that the palace was behind them, and getting farther and farther

"What's up, Alexi?" she asked, turning to him. "This isn't—We're leaving the city. The castle is that way."

"Oh! It seems roundabout, but it's good shortcut," the captain assured, flashing the woman a smile before focusing his sights back on the road.

Out the corner of her eye, the Bride took a quick glance at the back seat, sharing a suspicious look with you and Phosphorus.

The two of you nodded, turning to look out the window, finally noticing that you all were in the abandoned part of town, dilapidated buildings and trash galore.

'Aw, fuck...'

You knew exactly what was happening here.

Suddenly, the car pulled to a stop, the Bride's patience running thin.

"What the hell?" she asked, sharply, turning to the captain.

"Engine was making funny noise. Did you hear that?" Alexi excused, suddenly sputtering like an engine. "Did you, huh?"

"No," your brows furrowed, arms crossing over your chest as you sized him up with a suspicious look.

"I am afraid I am screwing up. How do you say? The... The suedinitel? How do you—?"

"I think how we say it is Keep moving, Alexi!" Phosphorus exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat.

"You want me to permanently damage vehicle?"

"Yes!"

Just then, two other armored trucks pulled up in front of yours, the men inside hopping out instantly and drawing their very high-powered guns, training them on the car.

And on perfect cue, the cavalry arrived, a few flying knights and a helicopters swooping in to cut off any form of aerial escape.

'For fuck's sake...'

"Damn it!" the Bride exclaimed, brows cinching at the sight.

"My men have fought and died for the Princess. We are not going to let you kill her now," Alexi stated, firmly, eyes deadly serious.

Leaning over the skeleton next to you, you tried the door, quietly cursing to yourself when it wouldn't budge.

'Bastard locked us in.'

Suddenly, he drew his pistol, pressing it into the Bride's temple.

"Stand down, Bride. You—"

Without hesitation, Phosphorus sent his radiated fist flying through the head rest, punching a hole right through it as well as completely demolishing the top half of Alexi's head, splattering blood, brains, and teeth all over the dash.

"Jesus, fuck, Phos," you grimaced, watching the remains of the poor man's jaw, as well as the rest of his body, flop forward against the steering wheel.

"What a shame. I liked that guy," he sighed.

But before you all could even get a moment to breathe, the guards opened fire, littering the truck with bullets.

Quickly, you all ducked down, the Bride unlocking and opening all the doors, allowing everyone to roll out and duck for cover.

Instantly, you all scattered, forcing the men to break off into smaller groups and fight you off.

"I smell blood, o' pityful flesh..." Mahalat's voice boomed within your mind, teasingly, sending a cold shock down your spine as you ran down an alley, bullets whizzing past. "Have you more for me to feast upon?"

'Jesus Christ...'

The wave of dread that washed over you was uncanny, your legs wanting nothing more than to buckle and drop you to the ground.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" you exclaimed, fed up, as you jumped onto the wall, bounding off of the other and back-flipping in mid-air to tackle the flying knight in the sky. "I'm busy! I don't need a peanut gallery!"

As he attempted to buck you off, you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him in place as your sharpened tail stabbed him right in the neck.

Twisting his arm, you used his gauntlet to shoot down the soldiers below, managing to take out three before you began to plummet toward the ground.

Loosening your hold and flipping yourself around, you used the poor man as a landing pad, crushing his ribs as you collided with the ground, fully upright.

But another armored truck was quick to swerve a few feet in front of you, soldiers jumping out an opening fire.

'Shit!'

Quickly, you dropped into a split, using your acrobatic prowess to flip and maneuver around them.

"On the contrary, it looks to me that you seem to be struggling against these peons."

"Shut up!" you spat, performing a front handspring into a handstand, propelling yourself into the air to scissor kick two men at once, before your tail wrapped around another's neck and swung you back for seconds. "I don't need your help! I'm doing just fine on my own."

"You know as well as I, (y/n), that our power could be so much greater, so much more potent... humans crawl over this rock like maggots, we alone could rule them all."

"Skip over this part! You've had the same pitch for years and my answer hasn't changed!" you groaned, landing on the shoulders of another soldier before snapping his neck. "Never! Gonna! Happen!

"Your humanity holds you back! You're weak! Pathetic!"

"Fuck you!"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA—" "NO!"

Quickly, you whipped your tail around, its pointed tip stabbing you in the thigh and forcing you to let out a howl of pain.

But it distracted you, preventing you from switching over.

"I am in charge!" you barked, scrambling to your feet and sprinting toward the alley wall, "This is my body! You listen to me!"

Without hesitation, you smashed your face into the bricks, breaking your nose on impact and splattering blood everywhere.

Disoriented, you fell backward, smacking your head on the ground with a sick thud.

Everything in your mind was coming to a head, bursting violently from every pore.

Your captivity.

Your self-loathing.

Your fear.

Being so desperate—and so off your anti-psychotics—you were grasping for anything to stop the torture, anything to stop her from winning.

Even if that meant maiming yourself.

Swiftly, your tail snatched up a large shard of broken glass, quickly moving and stabbing you in the stomach.

"I HATE YOU!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, tears welling in your eyes as you pulled the glass out, only to stab it right back in.

Repeatedly.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YO—"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA'AK KULA BAA NAT SU DA MAHALAT!"

Instantly, your body stopped, your limbs and tail falling limply to your sides as your eyes rolled over white, and you slowly began to float into the air.

Unable to hold them back, your tears floated with you as well, disappearing into nothing as you burst into hellflame, destroying any evidence of your humanity.

Slowly, but surely, the demon employed her magic, using fire to arduously heal all of your wounds.

Blood returning.

Vessels sealing.

Muscles fusing.

Flesh mending.

Until, eventually, there was no trace of you ever hurting yourself at all, rendering your pain and your actions ultimately meaningless.

'Why... Why couldn't I have never been born...?'

When Mahalat emerged—wings, fangs, horns, and all—she let out a howling, maniacal laugh, zooming into the air in search of meat.

"Enough of this rebellion, (y/n)!" Mahalat laughed, her voice, once again, dubbed over yours. "You have lost! You lost the moment your wretched mother shoved you out of her revolting womb!"

Soaring through the air, she set her sights on a flying soldier, who opened fire after catching her in his periphery.

But she swiped her hand through the air, sending an effortless blade of fire to cut him in half.

Bisected, he let out a blood-curdling scream, quickly losing consciousness as Mahalat caught his top half, using his torso as a shield from the bullets below while she ripped off his helmet and took a huge bite out of his cheek.

"I am the one that is in charge! I am the one who dictates life or death! You belong to me!"

She relished the flavor, eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head as she savored the taste of human meat.

The maggots at Arkham fed her nothing but lettuce and cabbage, as if she were some plow-horse to docile and tame.

But this... there was no heaven like it.

"You are nothing but a satchel of blood and bones in a flesh-drawn sack! A pitiful husk of meat! With me, you will survive for eons! Countless lifetimes! And we will rule this grievous hunk of rock, and all the maggots that fester on its surface!"

Glancing down at the ground, a sadistic smirk stretched across her lips, more trucks pulling up to attack.

"Like lambs to the slaughter..."

Large flames burst from Mahalat's palms, her eyes glowing bright red as she charged, allowing herself to heat up hotter and hotter and hotter, until finally...

She burst.

A tidal wave of hellflame erupted from her every direction, completely incinerating everything within a ten block radius.

The men below didn't even have a chance to scream before they were turned to ash, along with the countless other surrounding buildings.

Right then and there, Mahalat could've cried with joy.

It had been so long since she'd seen a scene like this, the smell of singed rubble and burning flesh like a goddamn Yankee candle to her.

But, in her happiness, she let her guard down, allowing you to take control just long enough to recite the incantation.

"KUNUS MATEZ KA'AM ALUK BAA NAT SU DA (Y/N)!"

"NO!" the demon roared, furious.

In her last moment of control, she grabbed her own wrist, using her strength to quickly swirl herself around before throwing your body clear across the city.

When you landed, you would be in for a world of hurt.

Pupils dilating, you snapped out of it with an aggressive gasp, eyes shooting wide as you suddenly collided with the wall of a building

Turning away from the man melting under his foot, Phosphorus raised a brow, eyes quickly scanning over the area at the sudden noise.

'The hell was that?'

Looking closer, he slowly began to make it out, the dust settling to reveal a naked, red woman, who was lying unconscious on the sidewalk.

You.

"(y/n)," he muttered under his breath, quickly snatching up his lab coat and jogging toward you

From what he could see, you were banged up pretty bad, but the little fires burning on your skin seemed to be patching you up—snapping your bones back in place, sucking up your bruises.

'Whoa... didn't know she could do that...'

You were such a mystery; there was still so much he didn't know about you.

But, on the contrary, there was a hell of a lot more you didn't know about him—a fact he was hoping to maintain.

Whatever reason you had for being incarcerated, he could already tell it had nothing to do with you being evil or malevolent in any way.

You hid behind swears and sharp looks, but behind your prickly exterior was a genuinely kind, caring, and beautiful person—of course, with a great rack, nice ass, smoking hot bod, heart-stopping smile, and delicious pussy.

...

But all of those were just bonuses.

Guys like him didn't associate with women like you.

Guys like him shouldn't associate with women like you.

He knew that, thoroughly, yet for some reason...

He just couldn't seem to stay away.

Suddenly, the siren of a cop car echoed throughout the streets, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Looking out to the streets, he could see the swirling red and blue drawing neared, the sirens getting exponentially louder along with them.

'Shit.'

Not wasting a second, Phosphorus scooped his arm under your waist, sitting you up and haphazardly tugging his coat on your naked body before tossing you over his shoulder.

"C'mon, doll face," he sighed, ducking into the shadows as he started off in the direction of the castle.

Once again, it looked like you both would be in it for the long haul.

"We gotta lay low for a bit..."

[dottowos]

subire me.

synopsis: It’s your birthday, and your only wish is to have Webttore underneath you. Being the good lover he is, he agrees to your shenanigans just this once (not).

includes: dottore (webttore) w/ fem! reader

notes: Webttore is referred to as Beta. Established relationship, oral (Webby receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, you ride him, dom reader, subby Webby, reader uses no pronouns, MDNI. Gift for my dear bestie <3

You never considered yourself a greedy person. You were always content and grateful for what you had, rarely ever wanting to take more by using force. That however applies to everything besides Il Dottore.

To be fair, it wasn’t like the attitude was unreciprocated. In fact, the man’s way of thinking was what rubbed off on you. If he desired you wholly, why would you feel any different? You were too lovely for him not to take for his own. He was too captivating for you to let go of. If he wanted to see your beautiful side, you should see his too. If he accepted your ugly side, you would take care of his own too. 

If he wanted to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you while you begged for him to slow down, it was only fair that the same should be done to him - which was the reason Beta was now currently underneath you huffing with a grumpy expression.

“Aww, come on love. You agreed to this, did you not?” You chuckled at his defiance, never wanting to be the one submitting to another.

“Only because you were adamant about pestering me the whole time,” he scowled, crossing his arms at your more than pleased expression. You rolled your eyes in amusement, beginning to unbutton your top which quickly got Beta’s attention back on you again.

“You act as if I’m sentencing you to death…” you laughed as your breasts spilled out, and Beta dug his nails deeper into his arm to resist his urges, “You trust me, right? So just let me take care of you… as you do for me,” you hummed, pulling off your bottoms and leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

“An odd request for the one whose birthday it is,” Beta continued to grumble, though his tone lowered at the sight of your bare body. 

“What can I say? You always knew that I’m a little weird,” you smiled as you crawled back and hovered over him, nudging your knee between his leg to which he gritted his teeth, “But let’s focus on you, yeah?” With that, you cupped his cheek and kissed him in an attempt to get him to lighten up, and of course, it worked after a few seconds, his body slackening to your sweetness. You sighed against his lip, working on removing his vest and bowtie while he moved to your whim.

It did feel quite odd not to have his hands roaming about your body, but you think it was more tortuous for him than you judging from the growing hardness near your leg. Well, the whole situation was a bit odd in general, usually Beta would be babbling on about anything and everything - how exquisite you looked taking him, what he’s done to you, what he will do to you… all with sharp teeth on display and a maniac grin. Now, however, he was strangely quiet, teeth grazing his lip with an unreadable expression, but definitely red ears.

"See how badly you want this? I know you could easily stop me if you wanted to, love, I haven't even tied you up this time. But here you are being so good and needy for me..." you sighed as your finger traced along his neck, your other hand placed firmly on his chest.

So cute. Good thing the segments were more organic rather than mechanical. Otherwise, you’d probably have made them short-circuit by now. You eagerly moved on to finally tugging his shirt off, exposing his chest. Ah, you had told yourself you’d have patience, but how could you when the scholar was laid out for you so pliantly like a sweet treat for the taking? You just really wanted him crying for you already.

“So what? Is this what you wanted all along?” The segment sneered, an attempt to fluster you and grasp some semblance of control back. But you only smiled.

“And what if it is? Trying to goad me before I even start isn’t the best idea, Beta.”

“You could see me like this whenever you wanted,” he scoffed.

“Not underneath me,” you clarified, watching with delight as his dismay further increased as you drove home the reality of the situation. “Now, do try to relax a bit. Isn’t that what you always tell me?” You teased as you suddenly began palming his bulge, to which he held back an embarrassing moan with all his might, and you could have laughed at his stubbornness, which was what you predicted, to be honest.

“You don’t want to moan for me that bad? That makes me sad,” you said in false hurt, beginning to kiss his clothed cock, just barely a bit of pleasure that was not nearly enough.

“This is not ‘taking care of me,’” he hissed out in irritation, repeating your exact words. Your torture had his patience running thin, something this segment did not have much of in the first place. Oh, how he wanted you to wrap your lips around him already, his hands firm on your head as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth.

… But here he was, reduced to a mere toy. It was a pitiful state for him to be in, throbbing cock left neglected. Beta’s arm slowly began to ease toward you, hoping to feel you like he’d always had before you caught him with a pout.

“What did I say? No touching unless I let you,” you chided him as you returned his hand to gripping the sheets instead. “Relax… I’m not as cruel as you,” you reasoned as you finally pulled down his pants, making his bulge more prominent. Some relief, but not sweet enough yet. You sighed as you played with the band of his underwear, thinking of all the ways you could toy with him like you toyed with you…

… But for now, your own patience was lacking. It was not a problem though, considering you were sure there’d be more opportunities despite the segment’s scoffs. So with one swift tug, you let his leaking cock free from its confines, rewarded with a held-back sigh of contentment from the scholar.

Dottore’s face was always a pleasure to look at. To see how he’s changed over the years, to see the age that settled in. Beta in particular had always been dashing, although not many people saw him unmasked. Youthful unscarred skin slightly reddened in pleasure, lips quivering for a few seconds before he quickly bit down to prevent any more unbecoming noises. It made you squeeze your own legs together in desire, but you wanted to see him come undone from a bit of teasing for once.

You wrapped your hand around Beta’s cock, giving it an experimental stroke to gauge his reaction. Not much yet, unfortunately. Moving closer to him, you placed a small kiss at the base, and began planting them as you finally reached the tip of his cock. Pre-cum was already dripping out from how long you’ve denied him the warmth of your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his tip before heatedly pressing it elsewhere, making sure to put on a show for him, as he released another groan. 

You admired his self-restraint, however. Alpha would have already been desperately bucking his hips. Still, Beta’s expression was simply exquisite. Eyes looking at you with dismay, as if he himself was surprised by his own actions, and fists clenched so hard, if he was a regular human he’d have drawn blood by now. It was already more than you could have hoped for, but you were excited to stretch the boundary.

Finally, you enveloped your mouth with him, taking as much as you could handle. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, hell, if not for his pride you were sure he wanted to come right there. Slowly, you moved up and down his cock, using your hand to stroke the rest of it. Normally, the segment would be snapping his hips at an inhuman pace seeking his release but to see him have to keep unusually stiff like this was amusing. You didn’t take your eyes off of your lover, his lewd expression motivating you to continue. 

You knew he was close. He was never one to delay his orgasms, too impatient to wait compared to his older selves. And after the delightful performance he put on for you tonight, it felt too mean to deny him, this time at least. You increased your pace, moaning around his cock, the sensation making Beta shudder, and finally he spilled into your mouth. You paused to accommodate the sudden load sprayed into you, dutifully swallowing and slowly pulling away from his cock to catch a breath.

After a brief break, you languidly ran your tongue over him again, cleaning up the mess he made. Beta hadn’t said anything yet aside from his lessening pants.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t enjoy this,” you lazily teased, eyes softening at his blissed-out look.

“Quiet,” Beta demanded, although his voice held no real harshness. It was obvious he was just embarrassed he came that much from submitting to you. “Hurry and finish whatever it is you want to do.” His command, which was more like a plea wrapped up in false dominance, egged you on to finally pull off your soaked underwear. Now, despite being knocked down a peg, Beta still found it mesmerizing to see how wet you were despite having not been touched by him. How he wished to have your slick smeared across his face instead of it being wasted dripping down your lips, but this was what you wished for…

Beta’s previous demeanor seeped away as he watched you line yourself up with his cock, wanting his head to be clear enough to see you swallow him up. With one thrust, you lowered yourself onto him, his cock filling you to the brim. You nearly lost yourself to pleasure right there, were it not for the fact you remembered you’re supposed to be teasing him. This was the first time he let you ride him, after all. You needed to show him how good it could feel. 

You lifted yourself up, relishing the slow drag of his cock, before quickly dropping back onto him. In no time you found your pace and bounced on it, gasping and pressing your hand onto his chest. Beta looked at you with an expression beyond pleasure that words could describe, watching you use him to your heart’s content. His hands itched to squeeze your soft thighs, to dig his hands into them and perhaps lift you up and down his cock himself. Thankfully, his desire was answered.

Deciding to finally relieve him of his aching hands, you grabbed them and pushed them toward your breasts, thighs, tummy - whatever he wanted to touch. Not one to waste opportunities, he quickly took advantage of your kindness and reached to rub your clit, moving to pinch and pull at your breasts at the same time, delighting in how you threw your head back in gratification. Well, he wasn’t the only one who was allowed to do that. Not wanting to be outdone, you moved as fast as you could, lewd slaps nearly contending with your breathy moans as you watched as Beta in turn screwed his face up and let out his own hushed moan as well. 

With his nails dug into your thighs so hard you were sure they’d leave marks, with one final movement Beta spurted into you hard as you immediately came right after from the filling feeling. You were both left to breathe, bodies relaxing from the previous intensity. Your energy flowed away as you sighed, enjoying how cum continued to gush from your cunt. You laid down to cuddle on Beta’s chest, nuzzling gently into him. A few seconds later, his hand rested on your head, stroking and calming you down. You two stayed quiet like that for a little while, save for a few questions and if you needed water and such. 

“Are you happy?” Beta grumpily piped up, as he peered down at you, admittedly admiring how pretty you looked in the afterglow. You smiled.

“Very. My gift was very useful and compliant. An amazing birthday, that’s for sure.” Another ‘hmph’ made you softly giggle, before your laughter was turned into a squeal, as the segment maneuvered your back to be pressed against the mattress now.

“Good. Now that you’ve had your fun, I can give you the gift I originally had planned,” Beta smiled at you a bit eerily, and you realized his cock began to swell in you once again. But you only looked at him with a cocky grin.

“Is that so? Well, I love receiving multiple gifts. In fact, give me as much as you desire…”

[ofbatsandballads]

Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Guys, I beg for patience hahaha

Long before Wanda and R's relationship, there is an extremely complex universe, so this needs to be built to make sense. I promise the kiss is comin and it will be surprising, in the meantime, enjoy the slow burn <3

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: the arrival of a well-known figure is what the witch in Wanda needed to take over the reins.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

FIRE

In an open field in space, a spacecraft glided smoothly through the infinite darkness. Inside, Carol Danvers was adjusting the settings on the main panel.

“Danvers,” Strange’s voice echoed in her communicator.

Carol rolled her eyes, but a smile curved her lips. “Sorcerer Supreme. Long time, no see. I hope this is important because I was in the middle of—”

“We need you,” Strange interrupted, the urgency in his voice cutting off any attempt at casual conversation.

Carol’s smile disappeared. “What’s going on?”

Strange appeared as a holographic projection in front of her, the Eye of Agamotto glowing on his chest. “The Scarlet Witch. Wanda Maximoff. I’ve located her.”

Carol crossed her arms, her face hardening. “Wasn’t she... dealt with at Mount Wundagore?”

“Not exactly,” Strange replied, his voice serious. “She survived. She’s in an alternate universe, without full powers for now, but that won’t last. If she remembers who she is—or worse, if another version of her intervenes—she could destroy reality again.”

Carol nodded slowly, the weight of the mission beginning to take shape in her mind. “And you want me to bring her in. Why? Seems more like your area of expertise.”

Strange sighed. “I can’t get involved directly. She has ties to the Darkhold that could interfere with my magic, even in a different universe. You, on the other hand, are practically indestructible.”

A sarcastic smile returned to Carol’s face. “Practically?”

Strange ignored the remark. “Your strength is what we need. But be careful, Carol. She may be weakened, but that doesn’t make her any less dangerous. Wanda is unpredictable. And, above all, she’s emotional.”

Carol tilted her head, her gaze narrowing. “So it’s a search-and-capture mission. Only this time, the target might destroy me if I make a mistake. Perfect.”

Strange opened a portal, his expression even darker. “Remember: she’s not the same Wanda we knew. Proceed with caution.”

[...]

Carol stepped through the portal into a world that seemed almost idyllic. The city's urbanization was a near-perfect blend of Westview and New York. The Captain took a deep breath, taking a moment to absorb the atmosphere. The place was surprisingly ordinary, but the small details buzzed in her mind with distrust. Impeccable lawns, vibrant flowers adorning windows, streets too clean, and yet… something felt off.

As she walked, her attention was drawn to a university at the city's center, surrounded by tall trees and an open field. This was where Strange had detected the core of Wanda's residual energy.

Bizarrely intriguing.

Carol found Wanda an interesting woman. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t help but admire Wanda—not just as the powerful Scarlet Witch, but as a woman. A woman seemingly burdened with sorrow and mystery, a walking paradox of strength and vulnerability.

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place you’d find a dark sorceress,” she murmured to herself, adjusting her communicator.

Strange responded in her ear. “She’s hidden herself in a universe that doesn’t attract attention. The problem is, that means the people here have no idea who she is... or what she’s capable of.”

As Carol walked the streets, she felt something—a subtle pulse in the air, almost like static electricity.

“She’s close,” Strange warned.

Entering the university, Carol tried to blend in with the students rushing out of their classes. Suddenly, someone bumped into her. Carol barely moved from the impact, but she looked down to see you had stumbled and fallen. It was unusual for her to be caught off guard, especially by something as mundane as an accidental encounter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, hurrying to gather the books and papers scattered on the ground.

Carol crouched to help, her eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. There was something about your presence that gave her pause—a strange magnetism, as if you carried something she couldn’t quite identify.

“It’s fine,” Carol replied, her voice calm. “Are you okay?”

You looked up, meeting her blue eyes. For a moment, time seemed to slow. There was an intensity there, as if Carol was seeing something deeper in you.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you replied, a bit flustered. “Sorry about that.”

Carol handed you the papers she’d picked up but didn’t step away immediately. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.

“You’re different,” she said without thinking.

You frowned, a little defensive. “What?”

Carol hesitated, realizing she’d spoken too much. “I don’t know. You just seem... special.”

You let out a short, nervous laugh. “If that’s your attempt at flirting, you need more practice.”

Carol smirked, surprised by your response. “It wasn’t that,” she said. “But I’ll take the tip.”

The moment was interrupted by a familiar sensation that passed through Carol like a wave. Energy. Red. Unstable. She immediately went on high alert, her eyes scanning for the source.

You noticed the change in her expression and followed her gaze. “Are you looking for someone?”

Carol glanced back at you, debating whether to be honest. “Maybe,” she said finally. “Do you study here?”

“Yes,” you replied, still intrigued. “Why?”

Before Carol could answer, a group of students passed between you, forcing her to step back. When she looked again, you were already walking away, heading into the main building.

She stood there for a moment, thinking. Something about you unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the energy she’d sensed. It was the way you seemed completely normal and yet... something more.

“Interesting,” Carol murmured to herself before continuing her search, now with you in mind.

As Carol moved through the corridors, she couldn’t stop thinking about you. That brief interaction had left a mark. There was something in your eyes, something that seemed to carry a weight heavier than it should for someone so young.

Then she heard it—a low laugh and a murmur unmistakable in its tone. Following the sound, Carol found you again, talking with a group of classmates. You seemed relaxed, but your eyes betrayed you. They held the same intensity she had seen in Wanda.

Carol’s heart raced. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she now knew her mission had just become much more complicated.

She entered the university office with decisive steps, the air charged with the familiar tension of magic. The space looked normal, but there was a latent energy that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Wanda stood near the window, her gaze lost on the horizon, but her posture rigid, as if ready to strike.

Wanda raised her eyes, and for a moment, her gaze met Carol’s. There was something almost unsettling in her expression, as if she were bracing for the worst and yet completely indifferent to it.

“Captain Marvel,” Wanda said, her tone disdainful but laced with exhaustion. “Come to take me back?”

Carol stopped a few steps away, her arms relaxed at her sides. “Depends,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you going to cooperate?”

Wanda let out a short, humorless laugh. “Cooperate? Do you think I’m some escaped prisoner?”

Carol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she sat down on the floor, crossing her legs as if she were there for a casual chat. The gesture made Wanda frown.

“Why are you here, Carol?” Wanda finally asked, her tone impatient.

“I’m here because you’re hurt, Wanda,” Carol said bluntly. “And when someone like you is hurting, the whole world feels it.”

Wanda looked away, as if the words had struck a sensitive nerve. “I’m not a danger to anyone here.”

“For now,” Carol replied softly. “But that’s not what this is about, is it? You’re not hiding because you want to hurt anyone. You’re hiding because you don’t know how to stop hurting yourself.”

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Wanda finally broke the silence, her voice lower, almost a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like, Carol. To lose everything. Absolutely everything. And still be expected to exist as if nothing happened.”

Carol tilted her head. “No, I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything,” she admitted. “But I know what it’s like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. To feel like you have to be strong all the time because if you break, everything else breaks with you.”

Wanda looked at her, her eyes shining with something Carol couldn’t quite identify. “And can you handle it?”

Carol gave a sad smile. “I do my best. But I won’t pretend it’s easy. And neither should you.”

The red glow in Wanda’s eyes flickered for a moment before being replaced by an expression of doubt. “I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted.

“Maybe you don’t need to fix it,” Carol said. “Maybe you just need to accept that you’re not alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Wanda seemed to consider the idea. But then, like a barrier being raised, her expression hardened again.

“You don’t understand,” she said, standing up. “I’m not just me. I’m her. I’m chaos. I’m destruction.”

Carol stood up as well, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s. “And I’m Carol Danvers,” she said firmly. “I’m a woman who’s faced gods and monsters. If you think I’m going to give up on you just because it’s easier, you’re wrong.”

For a moment, the silence returned, but this time, it felt different. A palpable tension hung in the air. Wanda finally looked away, her expression conflicted and contradictory.

“Leave, Carol,” she said weakly. “Before it’s too late.”

The conversation seemed to be nearing an end until Carol brought you up.

“Is it her? Is she the girl?” Carol asked, her voice laden with curiosity.

The weight of Carol's words hung in the air like distant thunder, but Wanda remained quiet, unmoving like a statue. Inside, however, she was a battlefield.

"She's right, you know," the Witch whispered in her mind, her voice dripping with venom and truth. "This girl is different. But you'll never have anything if you keep hiding."

Wanda clenched her fists, the red in her hands flickering between brightness and shadow. "I’m not hiding," she replied internally, her tone full of desperation and denial.

"Yes, you are. Hiding behind an idea of normalcy that was never yours. If you wanted your family, you should've fought for them. If you want this girl, you must fight now. Before it's too late."

The effect was immediate. Wanda faltered, her body trembling for a moment. The red glow Carol knew so well began emanating from Wanda’s hands, faint at first, but rapidly intensifying. Wanda closed her eyes, trying to contain the surge, but it was already too late.

"Don’t talk about her," Wanda whispered, her voice low but laden with threat. When she opened her eyes, the deep red glimmered within them, and Carol instinctively stepped back, raising an energy barrier.

"I knew it," Carol murmured, more to herself. "It’s her. She’s awakening something in you, something you can’t control."

"You don’t understand," Wanda growled, her voice now a blend of the woman Carol knew and something more primal. "She’s not just a girl. She... she completes me. She makes me feel alive in a way nothing else can."

Carol clenched her fists, struggling to maintain her composure. "It’s not her awakening this, Wanda. It’s the Witch within you. She’s using your feelings to gain strength."

Within Wanda's mind, the battle raged on. Carol's voice and the reality around her faded, replaced by an increasingly tumultuous internal dialogue.

"You see it, don’t you?" the Witch taunted, her voice echoing through Wanda's mind. "She understands, even if she tries to deny it. She knows I’m a part of you. I always have been."

"You’re just a part I never wanted," Wanda retorted, fighting to keep control of her thoughts. "You’re pain, chaos, destruction. I’ve tried... I’ve tried to get rid of you."

"And where has that led you?" the Witch shot back, sharp. "To loneliness. To emptiness. To the endless nights you spent crying over everything you’ve lost. But now... now you have something. Her. And you want to tell me you don’t feel the power growing because she’s here?"

Wanda hesitated, and the pause was enough for the Witch to press harder.

Wanda let out a bitter laugh, and the power around her intensified. "You think you can separate me from her? From myself? You have no idea what it’s like to live with this pain, this emptiness. She’s the only thing that fills it."

"The girl sees you, Wanda. All of you. Not just the mother, the teacher, the broken woman. She sees the strength The power. She sees... me."

As Carol continued speaking, trying to reach Wanda, the primal side of the Scarlet Witch began fully emerging. Wanda’s movements became more fluid, almost as if she were floating, and the crimson aura surrounding her grew nearly suffocating.

"I don’t want her to see this," Wanda whispered, the weight of the truth choking her. "I don’t want to be this. I don’t want to hurt her."

"You can’t hurt what’s meant for you," the Witch said, her voice dripping with certainty. "She’s here for a reason. You feel it, don’t you? She’s the thread connecting you to what you’re meant to be. Not the teacher. Not the mother. But the Scarlet Witch. Me."

Wanda shut her eyes, trying to push the words away, but they were like a constant drumbeat in her mind. Outside, she could feel Carol’s presence, the tension in the air, but she was too far gone to act.

"And if I lose everything again?" Wanda asked, her voice trembling.

"You only lose when you resist," the Witch replied, now soft, almost gentle. "Let me take over, Wanda. Just this once. You don’t have to bear this alone."

"I can’t..."

"You can," the voice interrupted firmly. "I am you, Wanda. We’re not enemies. We’re two sides of the same coin. And together... we’re unstoppable."

"Wanda," Carol tried once more. "You don’t have to do this. We can find a solution together."

But it was no longer Wanda in control.

"Don’t underestimate me, Captain," the Scarlet Witch said, her voice brimming with a confidence and cruelty that made Carol shudder. "I’m not the woman you think you know. Not anymore."

Carol felt the impact before the attack landed. Red energy slammed into her barrier, nearly knocking her backward. She countered, but she realized that, no matter how powerful she was, she was up against something far greater than just magic: it was a broken heart, a divided soul, and a passion that had turned into something dangerous and overwhelming.

Wanda’s internal struggle between her human side and the Scarlet Witch was palpable, but now, standing before Carol, the primal, wild side had taken control.

"She’s mine!" the Witch murmured, as if it were both a promise and a threat.

The air in the room thickened, charged with the energy of two titans on the brink of collision. Carol clenched her fists, golden energy beginning to radiate from her body, illuminating the space. Wanda, in turn, was entirely enveloped in her crimson aura, her eyes glowing with a dangerous intensity.

"If you won’t stand down willingly," Carol said gravely, "then I’ll use force."

Wanda tilted her head, a cruel smile curling her lips. "Fine."

Without another word, Carol struck first, surging forward at supersonic speed. Her golden energy tore through the air like a comet, aiming straight for Wanda’s chest. But the Scarlet Witch raised a hand casually, creating a crimson barrier that absorbed the blow as if it were nothing.

"You’re predictable," Wanda taunted before unleashing a wave of energy that sent Carol hurtling backward, smashing through the walls of the university office and landing in the courtyard.

Students fled in panic as the two titans clashed. Carol stood, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. She charged at Wanda again, this time surrounding her with an explosion of energy that fractured the ground beneath them.

"Is that all you’ve got?" Wanda mocked, before vanishing in a red mist and reappearing behind Carol, grabbing her by the neck with supernatural strength.

"You think you can stop me, Carol? Everything in this universe belongs to me, Captain... even you."

With a roar of rage, Carol channeled all her energy into a concentrated attack, exploding outward. The impact was so powerful that it tore a rift in the multiverse, exposing glimpses of parallel realities. But Wanda only laughed.

"You’re playing with forces you don’t understand," she said, extending her hands. Her red magic enveloped the rift, sealing it effortlessly.

Carol, panting, fell to her knees. But before she could react, Wanda whispered a spell, and magical chains wrapped around Carol’s body, binding her in place.

"You’re strong," Wanda admitted, circling Carol like a predator. "But brute strength is nothing against the power of chaos."

With an elegant gesture, Wanda conjured an orb of crimson energy filled with glowing runes. She sent it toward Carol like a breath, and though Carol tried to resist, the spell was irresistible. The Captain Marvel’s golden light faded, and her gaze turned vacant.

Carol rose slowly, but she was no longer herself. Her body was a vessel, now controlled by Wanda’s will.

"Welcome to my world, Captain," Wanda said, approaching Carol and caressing the ex-heroine’s face as if she were a masterpiece. "Perfect. Submissive. Mine."

Wanda smiled triumphantly, her eyes still glowing red. She raised her arms, and the universe around her seemed to bend to her will. The sky turned a pulsating crimson, and the air vibrated with raw energy.

Every star on the horizon flickered, as if fearing her presence.

"I warned you," she murmured, a victorious smile gracing her lips, her eyes blazing like fire. "Queens aren’t dethroned. They take what’s theirs."

And in that moment, the multiverse knelt before the Scarlet Witch as she rose above all, invincible, relentless, supreme.

[...]

The environment was in absolute chaos when you opened Wanda's office door. Papers were scattered across the floor, furniture was overturned, and the air carried the sharp tang of ozone and magic that made your hair stand on end. In the middle of it all, Wanda stood motionless, arms crossed, and her face etched with an unfriendly expression.

"What the hell happened here?!" you asked, eyes wide as you took in the wreckage.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, looking more irritated than usual. "None of your business, girl. Just clean it up."

You stopped surveying the mess and shot her an incredulous look. "Clean it? Me? Do you have any idea how bad this room is? It looks like a hurricane came through—or worse, like someone fought here. Alone, it'll take me hours!"

Wanda leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp. "I don't recall asking for your opinion. Just do it."

You let out a dramatic sigh, placing your hands on your hips. "Fine, but if you want me to clean all this up, maybe you should use those red fireballs you have. It’d make things easier, you know? Instead of just standing there barking orders like a tyrant."

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Wanda remained still, her eyes narrowing slowly as you, apparently fearless, kept your gaze fixed on her. Then something unexpected happened.

Wanda laughed. Not a free or kind laugh, but a low, dangerously sarcastic one. She stepped toward you, her heels echoing on the cluttered floor. Each step felt like a threat, but you stood your ground, even as your heart raced.

"You have a special talent for irritating me, don’t you?" she said, her voice low and controlled, though her eyes glowed with that red hue you were starting to recognize. "And no, those 'red fireballs,' as you call them, aren’t here to make your life easier."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "So what are they for? Boosting your ego? Because honestly, I think it's already big enough."

Wanda gave a crooked smile, stepping so close she was dangerously near. The heat of her presence was almost tangible. "You like testing limits, don’t you? Maybe I should show you what those 'fireballs' can really do."

Your heart raced, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you stepped back, stumbling slightly over some debris.

"Yeah, well, maybe I overstepped a little," you admitted, trying to sound indifferent as your mind screamed that getting out of this room alive would be a miracle.

Wanda tilted her head, as if assessing you. Then, with a quick gesture, she used her magic to lift a pile of papers and organize them neatly on the desk—just to prove she could.

"See?" you said, pointing at the magical movement. "Effortless. You could do this in two minutes. Why are you making me clean?"

Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes almost theatrically. "Because, girl, you need to learn that things in life don’t come for free. And, frankly, watching you complain is one of the few entertaining things in my day."

You huffed, but there was an unexpected warmth in your belly—a confusing mix of frustration and something else you didn’t want to admit. "Entertaining, huh? Great. I’ll clean. But know that I’m going to complain every second."

Wanda gave a slow, dangerous smile. "Do that, and I might add more tasks to your list. Who knows? Maybe I'll even use my 'fireballs'... just not in the way you’d like."

Her tone was a mix of threat and provocation, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to punch her or... something else. Muttering under your breath, you started picking up the wreckage while Wanda settled into her chair, watching you like you were live entertainment.

It was a power game, a dance of provocations and resistance, and deep down, you hated—or maybe loved—that Wanda Maximoff always seemed to have the last word.

You were at your wit's end by the time you finished cleaning the office. Every corner, every piece of paper, every bit of furniture had been meticulously attended to. Sweaty and exhausted, you looked around and let out a satisfied sigh. "Finally."

That’s when Wanda walked back in. She looked completely refreshed, as if she’d just returned from an exclusive spa. The contrast with your disheveled state was ridiculous.

She glanced around, hands on her hips, and made a face. "This is terrible! Do you have any idea how to clean?"

You blinked, incredulous. "Terrible? I spent HOURS cleaning this!"

Wanda merely snapped her fingers, and in the blink of an eye, the office became immaculate. The papers were stacked neatly, the furniture was back in place, and even the air felt fresher.

Your jaw dropped. "You’re telling me you could’ve done that the entire time?!"

Wanda shrugged, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips. "Of course. But where’s the fun in that?"

The blood rushed to your head, and you saw red. "You’re impossible! Arrogant, egotistical, tyrannical—"

Before you could finish your list of insults, you took a step forward, then another. Before you knew it, you were practically nose-to-nose with her, finger pointing like a dagger. Wanda simply raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Oh. The baby’s angry," she teased, tilting her head slightly. "I really do love seeing you like this. It makes my day."

You growled, patience completely gone, and tried to push her, but Wanda was quicker. In a movement almost casual, she grabbed your hair with one hand and held your neck with the other, pulling you close with enough force to make it clear who was in control.

"Just because I find you adorable when you’re angry," she said, her tone low and laced with something almost dangerous, "and I go out of my way to see that little face turn red, doesn’t mean I’ll let you forget who’s in charge here. Got it?"

Your heart raced, but you kept your gaze locked on hers, even as your skin tingled where her fingers touched.

"Got it?" she repeated, tightening her grip on your hair slightly.

You swallowed hard, unsure whether you hated or loved the sensation. "Yes, ma’am," you murmured, your voice slightly shaky.

Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a brief moment, and you saw something change in her expression. She was tempted. Tempted to do something she knew she shouldn’t.

Wanda watched you, her gaze fixed on yours as if seeing something that made her burn inside. The fire of anger and determination radiating from you was intoxicating. Every time your voice rose, every insult hurled her way, it drew a slow, dangerous smile to her lips. It wasn’t just the challenge that drew her; it was the raw force of your youth, your conviction.

The witch within her began to whisper. "Look at how she glows, how she resists. She’s like a storm waiting to be tamed. We could shape her, drink her in, consume every drop of that fire. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to feel that running through our veins?"

Wanda tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. Not when every move you made felt like a veiled invitation. "She provokes me," Wanda thought, the heat rising through her body. "Without even realizing it, she makes me vulnerable. But at the same time… she makes me feel alive."

"Touch her," the voice whispered. "Make her understand the power you hold. Kiss her, taste her. She belongs to us."

In that moment, Wanda reached out firmly, pulling you closer. There was no hesitation, only raw desire that seemed to overpower everything around her. She held you, her gaze burning with a mix of need and fascination.

"You have no idea what you’re provoking," Wanda murmured, but there was something inevitable in the way her voice wavered, as if she were on the verge of surrendering to everything she felt.

But before she could act, a knock at the door echoed through the room.

Wanda released you abruptly, stepping back with an exasperated sigh. "Come in," she said, her tone impatient, though her posture remained composed as if nothing had happened.

You took a step back, discreetly massaging your neck while glancing at the door. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, but no one seemed to notice—except the two of you.

The sound of the door closing behind whoever had entered was just a distant echo in your ears. Your focus was locked on Wanda, on her eyes burning like embers, as if the interruption had only fueled what was about to erupt between you.

The space around you seemed tighter, hotter, as if the very air was conspiring to pull you together again.

The tension wasn’t a thread anymore; it was a blazing cord wrapping around you both, tightening, scorching. There was something destructive in the energy flowing between you, a force threatening to consume anything in its path. Every exchanged glance, every shared breath felt like a step closer to the edge. It wasn’t simple desire, nor just anger—it was a ravenous hunger that wouldn’t settle for halves.

"She’s fire," Wanda thought, but the witch within her laughed, dark and satisfied. "And we are the gasoline."

If you touched again, it would be the end of control, of rationality. It would be the beginning of something deeper, wilder. A kiss wouldn’t be enough; it would only be the first crack in a dam ready to burst. You could feel it, as if every fiber of your being screamed to give in to the chaos, to the heat, to the inevitable.

Wanda averted her gaze for just a moment, as if trying to hold onto a shred of reason, but it was useless. You were there, a pulsing paradox of strength and vulnerability, and she wanted to devour every piece of it. Bites and kisses, skin against skin until the boundaries between you both were reduced to ashes. The thought was so visceral it made the air around her hum with untamed magic.

"We’ll burn together," the witch whispered, like a promise, like a sentence. "And it will be glorious."

And when Wanda’s eyes met yours again, she knew. It didn’t matter how many doors knocked or how many minutes she tried to buy with interruptions. The fire had already begun.

~*~

Call 911! A lesbian is having tachycardia longing for a Wanda like this!!

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000

[phefics]

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮) contains: afab!reader, edging, fingering, oral, polyamory, threesomes

“ellen can make me finish much faster than you can,” you tell thomas, mischief twisted in your smile, having successfully broken the comfortable silence in the room.

thomas looks up from his book and narrows his eyes, clearly taking your words as a challenge. “is that so?” he asks.

you nod, playing into it. “she knows my body so well. it comes naturally to her, i suppose, as we share the same anatomy.”

thomas sets his book down on the table and stands.

you shoot a glace over to ellen, who is hiding a smile between her embroidery. you meet her gaze and grin.

thomas stalks over to where you are sitting on the couch, and gets on his knees in front of you. “how long would you say it takes ellen to please you?”

you hum. “i believe she has done it in eight or so minutes.”

there is a desperate wanting in his eyes and he lifts your skirts, like a starving man who has finally acquired a feast. he turns his attention to ellen. “would you say that that is accurate?”

she carefully sets down her embroidery, watching you two with excitement in her eyes. “i would say so.”

thomas pushes your knees apart with his hands. “if i can finish you off in eight minutes or less, perhaps you will learn to watch your mouth."

you doubt that you will ever learn to watch your mouth, but you smile and nod anyway. thomas also knows it's an empty promise, but that is a part of the game that the three of you play: an unconventional arrangement, where no rules are ever set in stone.

thomas brings his face between your thighs, his tongue licking clumsily at your pussy. you breathe out a sigh, looking over to ellen, who is watching the clock, her eyes occasionally darting over to watch you.

as thomas begins to find a rhythm, begins to locate the right spots to focus on, you moan, one hand moving to tangle into his hair, while the other reaches out and grips ellen's hand. she squeezes it, still watching the clock.

"six more minutes," she says softly. "is he doing well?"

truthfully, he is, but you know that thomas likes to be pushed, challenged. "not as well as you," you answer.

thomas practically growls from between your legs, the vibration of his lips a new sensation that sends your hips bucking up into his mouth. his hands roughly grab at one of your thighs, pushing it further to the side, while he other hand moves for your entrance, easily pushing a finger inside of your wet, wanting cunt.

you moan again, grabbing his hair harder. he is always so eager to please, so ready to rise to the occasion. he loves it when you tease him like this, testing his patience. he doesn't just want to be good for you, for ellen: he wants to be perfect.

ellen strokes her nails over the palm of your hand, up your wrist, a gentle and subtle way of including herself in the moment, as more than just the one keeping time. you welcome her touch, drink it in greedily, wanting to pull her close and have her kiss your throat, tear open your corset and touch you with a rougher hand, but in this little game, she would be interfering with thomas' attempts to prove himself.

perhaps after thomas has his way with you, ellen will join in on the fun. as if she can read your mind (and sometimes you think that she can), ellen says, "two more minutes."

thomas slips another finger inside of you, curling inside of you in the most incredible way, as his tongue still works at the most sensitive part of you, and you feel the waves building up inside of you, toes curling inside your shoes, your fingers tightening their grip on his curls.

"i'm close," you say. "oh, thomas, i'm close, yes—"

"time's up," ellen says, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

just as you feel you're about to tip over the edge, thomas stops, and you whimper, your hole clenching around nothing as he pulls his fingers out. "wait, thomas, please—"

"oh, you wish for me to continue?" he asks, his lips shining with your wetness. "i assumed that if i could not perform to your standards, you wouldn't be interested in my attempts."

"i want you to finish me," you say, breathless. "you feel so good, my love, please."

thomas and ellen exchange looks, and before you can beg any further, ellen is at your neck, kissing your skin, her hands ravaging your waist and chest lovingly, and thomas is back between your legs.

"here is one thing that ellen cannot give you," he says, unbuttoning his pants and revealing his hard cock.

"yes, please, i want to feel you inside me," you plead.

he slips inside of you, arms wrapping around your legs to hold them apart as he thrusts into your warmth.

ellen kisses your lips sweetly, stroking your hair. "you are so beautiful. let us see you come undone," she whispers.

after he brought you so close to the edge and back down again, thomas is quick to bring you back to that precipice of pleasure, and you finish with a loud cry, your face buried in ellen's hair, breathing in her scent of lilacs.

if this is what you get for speaking so boldly, you will certainly not be watching your mouth any time soon.

[pseudowho]

We've talked about Nanami's wife as a cat, but now imagine Kento as a dog 😎 some huge Great Pyrenees who's happy to be around his wife but awfully possessive of what he consideres his. Just a gentle pup you don't want to mess with

(Add a hyper husky Gojo, and you'll have so much fun once Kento's patience snaps. Not.)

You say this, and I have considered Nanami Kento as a dog, but...

...I'm sorry, if Furry Little Problem continues as a series, there will be more Mrs.Nyanyami, and I'm afraid to say that Nanami Kento could be nothing other than a very aloof, cream/blond, majestic Ragdoll or Maine Coone.

And...if Yuuji went on the same mission, the reader would find her hands full, for this standoffish big maned cat, would be constantly harassed by a little peach cat with black socks.

I've thought this through already...as you can tell 😺

☝️ Reader settling down for a nice evening with Nyanyami Kento.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[stclaretarot]

PAC ⭒ YOUR NEXT MAJOR BLESSING

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards pulled · page of swords (reversed), five of wands, king of pentacles (reversed), ace of swords, eight of wands (reversed), temperance. 

channelled songs · dream merchant by the new birth. new axis by nct u. worth my while by manny norté. 

my dear group one ♡ what’s coming up may not feel like much of a blessing as, truth be told, it is a blessing of tough times and times of challenge. 

as this unfolds in your life, remember this one truth: “no rain, no sunshine.”

without difficulties and challenges, will we ever truly appreciate when things are easy? when things are going well? when things are falling into place? 

without these difficulties and challenges, will we even know what it’s like to be happy and at peace and content? whose to say, but i say no. i say we need the darkness and the misery and the pain to truly know light and happiness. to truly marvel in the blessings being showered upon us. 

so, as you go through this, dear, remember that this, too, is a blessing. that you are being blessed with hard times as much as you will be blessed with good ones. that you are being blessed with patience, and perseverance and an inner-strength. 

remember, too, that “blessings” are a manmade ideal. god bestows, and humans decide if this is a blessing or a curse. it is all about perspective. 

GROUP TWO

cards pulled · queen of wands (reversed), three of pentacles (reversed), eight of swords, six of cups, eight of cups, death (reversed). 

channelled songs · get out by pinkfantasy. wake me up before you go-go by wham! i’m every woman by whitney houston. 

my dear group two ♡ your next major blessing sees you settling into yourself -- likely out of no other option but to settle into yourself. out of no other option but to become comfortable with yourself, in your entirety. 

you are being forced into this role of the “outside” -- in your community, school, or workplace. you are different from those around you. your views are different from those around you. and that is your strength. that is your blessing. 

you are not meant to be the same as everybody else. to share everybody else’s perspectives. to live everybody’s life. and sometimes we have to truly become isolated and feel not just alone but lonely in order to embrace who we truly are. 

are that is what this is doing, how this is blessing you. you are going to blessed with this experience that pushes you to be completely unique and original. to honour your uniqueness and original ways of thinking. to forge your own path and create a life for yourself that is truly your own. 

GROUP THREE

cards pulled · eight of swords, page of swords, knight of pentacles, seven of pentacles, knight of cups, three of pentacles. 

channelled songs · i am the best by 2ne1. middle of the night by monsta x. infinity by superm. 

my dear group three ♡ your next major blessing is a blessing of clarity. clarity of the mind. 

the fog is being lifted from in front of your eyes and any confusion you may have felt (or held in your mind) is now gone for good and for the better!

up until now, you have been wandering aimlessly. putting one foot in front of the other because while you do not know where you are going, you know that you cannot afford to stay in one place for too long and rot. rot. rot away. 

but no more! you are going to receive this blessing of knowing exactly what you want to do, exactly what you want to out of life, and exactly who you want to be. 

honestly, dear, this is such a major blessing, because after so long of trying and trying and trying, things are finally coming together in your life. 

GROUP FOUR

cards pulled · two of swords, judgement, nine of wands (reversed), seven of swords, the world (reversed), the star. 

channelled songs · run this town by jay-z & rihanna. stop by lous and the yakuza. put my hands on you by dean & anderson. paak. 

my dear group four ♡ this major blessing is another one of those “blessings in disguise.” though, to be fair, aren’t most blessings? 

but, now, for you, this is a blessing of fake friends and fake supporters being revealed and promptly removed from your life. all these snakes in the grass, lurking, spying on you and waiting for the vital moment to strike and hurt you. these people who are faking friendliness to your face, but are waiting to stab you in the back. these people will be made known to you soon. in a drastic way. 

what you do with this is up to you, however. will you take this blessing for what it is and cut them out, thus making space for true friends and supporters? for people who actually do have your best interest at heart? or will you forgive and forget, allowing naivety to take the reins? which, may be hard as these may be friends you’ve known for a long time. or a family member. or a lover. 

a blessing is a blessing is a blessing, but what’s most important is what we do when we are presented with one. what are you going to do? 

[nosferatini]

Writers Guild Presents: The Evening of Nightingales

Cover art by my incredible friend @daneecastle! Why yes, she does have a Patreon! Go check it out!

Fluffy first time smut, anyone???

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Ineffable Turbo Virgins

Status: 10k, Complete

Summary:

The Book of Life told Aziraphale that a Holy Union would make the two of them inseparable. Two names—one demon and one angel—now written as one, in permanent ink. Well, that covers their ethereal souls… but what about the rest? It’s their wedding night, and the nightingales are singing in Berkeley Square. What magic is abroad in the bookshop air tonight? 

Read it on AO3:

The Evening of Nightingales

Excerpt:

Crowley’s eyes darkened as he watched, breath hitching under the sound of Aziraphale’s noises. A moan escaped the angel’s mouth around the shiny surface of the apple, and the demon bit his lip.  “Mmphh…” Crowley was glad he’d stripped out of the wet outer clothes. His smoking jacket’s silk lining yielded under his body’s reactions as pinpricks of excitement quickened his pulse. He could smell the fruit burst into the air with every cherubic nibble. He inhaled Aziraphale’s fading cologne and that delicious honeydew and ginger emanating from his hair. A tiny trickle of juice collected at the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth, and Crowley had to school himself against licking it away.  Too soon… he thought. They would make this last. They’d earned that. He had never ached so. And Aziraphale, his posture melting to something languid and lazy, felt quite the same.  The angel tilted his head back to look at the demon. His eyes were wells of emotion as he chewed the apple with leisurely content. Wells that begged one to dip the pail in, to taste the water. To drink deeply… Crowley swallowed so loud the storm could have heard it. Outside, great dapples of water washed against the window, a Van Gogh of purple and amber hues reflecting the seasonal lights strung down the street. Then all at once, the street lights went out, and every splash upon the glass was black as the vast night beyond.  The two celestial entities within the bookshop flat vaguely registered the dimming of the light, but their world currently consisted of the warmth of the fire and each other’s breaths, the noises they were making, and the unmistakable charge in the air between them.  If they’d had a mind to think about it, they might have realized that was where all the power had just been diverted to. But their eyes weren’t looking at the firmament. Trueform and corporeal alike were transfixed with the motions of an angel's jaw and the twitching of a demon’s slitted pupils. Aziraphale took another bite of the apple.  Crunch. Juice was rolling down Crowley’s thumb and Aziraphale’s chin. The angel made a move to reach for a handkerchief. But Crowley smacked the hand like a chef chasing away prying fingers from an unfinished dish. His voice was firm, but hushed. “Leave it.” The palpitation of Aziraphale’s heart matched the rhythm of the rain for a moment. He swallowed, accidentally downing a larger chunk of apple than he’d intended, and watched as Crowley fixed him with a roguish smirk. The demon drew a slow breath before speaking again.  “What do you want, angel?” Aziraphale brightened, his mouth glistening with the wet of consumption. “I want…” he breathed, “to taste… you .”

Hello fandom! This is my contribution to the goodomensafterdark Pillow Fight!

It is a stand alone work, as well as a tasty teaser (an appeteaser if you will!) for The Season of Nightingales, which I hope you will consider reading! It also serves as an EXPLICIT replacement for Chapter 35, (so if you're already reading Nightingales, keep going and you'll get to this!)

Oh, hi by the way! My name is Nos, and I am a beta addict. 🫣 Please join me in a toast to my beta readers @addledmongoose, @dbacklot99 @demonsandpieohmy @on1occasionfork @brenna and u/blackjeans93 for all the love, attention and patience they gave! I am so spoiled!

Okay I swear I’m ACTUALLY done with this fic now. lol. 

@kotias I will tag GOAD now. I mean goodomensafterdark. I mean... Shit I forgot how? Let me google it....

"Am I GrdOmensAftrDrk?" — no?

"how to know if I am at grdominzdick?" — that didn't work.

"AT ERMAGRRDomenzafyerdark?" — am I close yet?

Wait, I forgot, you're French! Lets try…. Au BonnesOmenzApresNuit!!!

No? lol. Fine. @goodomensafterdark

[wlwsoccerfics]

Jealous Girlfriend Alert(Lea SchüllerxOberdorfReader)

(little mention of Lena/Tuva relationship)

Warning: jealousy ,slight mention of s*xual content, faking being sick

It has been 3 years of dating for you and Lea. You play together for bayern munich & the german national team. Things have been going great. It was time for national Camp you were excited to see your best friend Pia Sophie . You and her are like Sisters and everyone knew that you only saw eachother that way. Lea knew that too, but somehow this national Camp was gonna be quite the Challenge for her patience.

You two sat in the van, together with Giulia & Lena. It made sense to travel together because you all play for the same Bundesliga Team.

You had your head on Lea's shoulder, your fingers intertwined. She was stroking your hand with her thumb, which earned her a smile from you.

"you two are disgustingly cute!" Lena said teasingly and let out a fake gag. Giulia laughed softly.

"be nice!"Giulia told Lena.

"yes be nice sis or i will tell Tuva about it!" You tell your older sister & made sure you mentioned Lenas girlfriend, which was also one of your teammates at Bayern Munich. And your other best friend besides Pia. Kinda funny that you and Lena dated eachothers best friends.

"that's what you get for being a meanie!" Lea told her best friend and was sticking out her tongue towards Lena .

"you are a bunch of children!" Giulia stated, but was still smiling. Used to your guys banter by now.

When you get out of the Van, Pia was already waiting for you. Together with Sara. You two hug eachother right away. "Y/n! I missed you, bestie!" Pia said. "I missed you too!" You told her, hugging her back. Lena, Giulia and Lea hugging Sara before you went to greet her and the three went to greet your best friend. Things were still fine. No hint of jealousy. That was not gonna last long though.

And if you would have known that you probably would have given Lea a pep talk and informed Pia that Lea was struggling a bit with how close the two of you were. Unfortunatly that wasn't the case.

You went to your room with Lea so the two of you could get settled before the first team meeting. You unpack your Suitecase and feel Lea wrapping her arms around you from behind. You lean against her. She started kissing your shoulders & neck. Which made you close your eyes and you let out a soft moan. You could feel her smirk against your shoulder. "Babe we only have an hour before the Team Meeting!" You tell her, trying not to get carried away. "You know there is alot i could do with you in an hour?" She whispered into your ear, her hands moving down your stomach towards your pants. Your were interrupted by someone saying "okay yuck! Can't you keep it in your pants for a bit. You literally were alone for..."the Person checked her watch"15 minutes!" You stare at the Person who said it and just stood in yours and Lea's room all of the sudden. "Laura ! Don't you know how to knock?!" You asked and sighed softly. "Sorry, but it's about Lena, she kind of fainted on the way to her room!" The blonde replied. "Lauri, maybe next time you should lead with that!" You told her, now really worried about your sister. So was Lea. "Lead the way, Laura!" Lea told her, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers together as you went to Lenas & Jules room.

Lena was lying on the bed, a wet towel on her forehead. You let go of Lea's Hand and quickly sit on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry guys i am fine. I just didn't drink enough!" She admitted. "Lena Sophie Oberdorf!! you scared the crap out of me!" You told your sister. "Yeah what she said!" Lea replied. "Sorry! I promise i won't forget it ever again!" Lena answered, blushing a bit. Jule was walking into the room with two bottles of water. "I am working on getting her to drink a bit more and then rest!" The tall blonde replied. "That does sound like a good plan." Lea told her.

You ended up staying with Lena for a little bit while the others left for the Team meeting. After you cuddled with your sister and made sure she was okay you went there as well. Sitting next to Giulia. Cause there was no place left to sit. Cause otherwise you of course would have sat with your girlfriend.

The meeting was done and you had two more hours of free time. So you decided to Play FC 24 in the gaming room. you played with Pia in a Team against Laura & Sydney. "You are going down, little Oberdorf!" Laura yelled out. "I have a Name Freigang! Also i don't think so!" You replied with a soft chuckle. Of course the two of you were just teasing. Lea was sitting at a table near by with Giulia, Nicole & Klara playing UNO. Pia playfully massaged your shoulders, kinda like before a boxing match, cause she was standing behind the couch. "You got this, y/n!" She told you. Laughing softly. "Thanks for believing in me, Pi!" You answer. Lea was glancing over to the two of you and all of sudden looked really upset. That didn't go unoticed by Nicole. "Are you okay, Lea?" She asked, following your girlfriends gaze. Which made Klara and Giulia also look up from their cards and they noticed their friend and teammate being upset as well. "They are always so close!" Lea stated. "Wait are you jealous of Y/n and Pia?" Nicole figured out. "It's like they are constantly all over eachother!" Lea answered, crossing her arms over her chest. "You mean like you & Obi?" Giulia told her, trying to calm her friend down because Lea looked like she was about to lose it and walk over to you and Pia. "Lea relax, for real. You are like that with Obi & you don't See y/n being Jealous!" Klara said. It took a bit of talking from all three of them to make Lea relax a bit more.

Free time was over and you were at one of the practice fields, doing some drills. You quite enjoyed doing drills. Was one of your favorite things to do. After doing the drills you all kicked the ball around and Pia who stood next to you accidentally hit your forhead with her hand when she was making a movement, going for the ball. "Sorry y/n!" She told you and gave you a kiss on the head, patting your shoulder in a friendly way. Klara was quick to react cause she saw that Lea wanted to march over to the two of you and her face told a whole Story of how that wouldn't end well. "Lea you need to talk to her about how you feel! In a normal way and not make a scene." Klara told your girlfriend. "Fine." She replied and walked into the other direction. Excusing herself to the room you two shared claiming she was feeling sick. Something you noticed quite quickly and asked If you could check on her cause you also wanted to check on your sister anyways.

As soon as everyone agreed you basically ran to Obis room to see how she was but she was asleep so you went to check on your girlfriend, quite concerned for her health. "Beautiful?" You asked when you entered your room and saw Lea doing sit ups. Which confused you cause you thought she was not feeling well and now only thing she looked like was pissed. "You don't look sick. Are you okay? What's wrong? Anything i can do for you?" You asked. She stopped and got up from the floor walking over. "I am jealous of you and Pia!" She admitted. You were quite shocked and confused. "Wait why? You know she is like my sister! Like it's with you and Obi!" You told her, pulling her in for a hug. Lea was biting down on her bottom lip, realizing how irrational the whole thing was. "I was being an idiot, wasn't i?" She asked. "Well i wouldn't say an idiot, but unreasonable. Thank you for telling me though. Don't worry about it. Pia has a crush on someone else. And i only want to be with you." You explained and then kissed her cheek. Her arms wrap around you. "I love you." She whispered out. Kissing you back. "I love you too, my sweet jealous girlfriend." You told her teasingly.

The rest of Camp went smoothly and without any jealousy from Lea. In fact she also grew closer to Pia and even helped her to ask Nicole on a date. Which she happily agreed to. So you would have little Double dates during the rest of national camp.

[pompomchihuahua]

Gyomei's Influence On Genya

So, a question I've seen posed, is how did Genya go from this

to this

Well! The corps record book outright answers this: "Meeting Himejima helps to pacify Genya."

But that in itself isn't very descriptive. So, it's left up to interpretation how Himejima went about "pacifying" the boy who went around punching little girls. How did he do it? Did he "slap" some sense into him?

Personally, I don't think so.

Genya has lived a life surrounded by violence, from his father beating him, his mother, and his siblings when they were young to their mother turning into a demon and killing his siblings in cold blood. To an unknown amount of time doing god only knows what, we see Genya is a character that was born and raised in violence. Plus, we see first-hand how he reacts to violence when Tanjirou breaks his arm; in ssv, despite his softened edges he still remains bitter and defensive toward Tanjirou.

We know that Genya doesn't respond well to violence, he shuts down and closes himself off or lashes out just as good as he gets.

So, if not a firm slap, then what can Gyomei give to Genya?

Patience and compassion. We see from the extras and his main story that while Gyomei doesn't view children in the most positive light, he does still consider them as innocent and that is what causes them to be liars and cruel; because they don't know any better.

It says in the book that Genya's honesty is why they get on so well: "He doesn't put on fronts and he's never calculating. Thus, he and Himejima take well to each other." And while Himejima reprimands and rejects Genya over and over at first, he does eventually take him in with the book saying "However, once the Hashira sees the boy's determination, he accepts him."

For, perhaps the first time in Genya's life, someone sees something in him and acknowledges him. And I believe it's this that restores Genya's "gentle nature."

Then there's this part: "He was a gruff boy, but interacting with the Stone Hashira and others softens his edges."

Who are the others? I believe the book is referring to Sumi and Tanjirou! Tanjirou, during the fight with Hantengu is exceedingly patient with him and supportive and Sumi reminds him of his little sister of the same name, to the point he even tells his entire backstory to her.

There's a consistent theme where, the more supportive and patient you are with Genya, the more he opens up and softens his edges, whereas violence makes him clam up.

I've seen the idea of Gyomei "slapping" sense into Genya compared to Sabito's slap, but you have to remember that the context behind Giyuu's backstory and the person doing the slapping is completely different.

[dreamersworldduh]

Hi! Do you have the requests open? If so I would like to ask maybe something about tim drake x male reader. Nothing very special, maybe the reader is a Kryptonian and also has a "hate/rivalry" relationship with him, That once the reader is seriously injured by kryptonite and Tim worries and takes care of him day and night while the reader recovers. I don't know, I think it would be interesting to see that, besides you write amazingly and it would be even cooler, there could even be a mini-series lol. Well I hope you manage to do it, if not, Well, I'll understand it anyway, I hope to continue reading your stories soon (I love Damian's story) 🥰🥰🥰

THORN IN HIS SIDE

• TIM DRAKE x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Tim Drake, the focused leader of the Teen Titans, managed the unique strengths and challenges of his team. Each member, like Cassie, Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy, contributed in their own way. Tim thrived on structure, carefully crafting strategies while keeping the team in line. However, one member, you, constantly tested his patience and disrupted his plans. Unlike Tim, you relied on instinct and preferred spontaneous actions. Though you weren't incapable, your unpredictable methods frustrated him. Your confidence and charisma rallied the team, making Tim feel as if he was competing for their loyalty. Despite his annoyance, Tim recognized your invaluable contributions, often leading to fresh ideas and inspiring others. In his heart, he was grateful for your influence on the Titans.

WARNING! FLUFF! Violence.

WORDS! 6.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Thank you for your request and your support! Much love 🫶🏽 I hope you enjoy 😉✨

Y/N, a Kryptonian sharing the same alien heritage as Superman, never imagined the life he now lived. Rescued as a child from Krypton's destruction, his abilities rivaled the immense power of the Man of Steel, yet they remained raw and untamed. For years, he worked as Superman's protégé, absorbing the lessons of heroism under the unwavering gaze of Earth's greatest champion. While Y/N admired his mentor, he constantly battled with the daunting weight of expectation, struggling to carve out his own identity in the shadow of a living legend.

Amid this journey, Y/N's journey caught the eye of Wonder Girl, a rising star in the superhero world and a key figure in the Teen Titans. She saw something unique in him—a mix of vulnerability and raw strength that reminded her of what it meant to be young, powerful, and searching for purpose. To her, Y/N wasn't just another Kryptonian powerhouse; he was someone with untapped potential and a soul yearning for connection. Wonder Girl believed Y/N could bring something extraordinary to the Titans, a team that embodied the perfect balance between family and fighting force.

One day, Wonder Girl approached Y/N with an invitation that would change the trajectory of his life. She spoke with conviction about the Titans—how they weren't just a team but a close-knit family that thrived on mutual support and understanding. She described the camaraderie, the thrill of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with peers who understood the burden of extraordinary abilities, and the chance for Y/N to grow beyond the long shadow of Superman. Though hesitant at first, Y/N was intrigued. After much thought, he accepted the offer, yearning for a fresh start and the opportunity to prove himself.

Joining the Titans felt like stepping into a new world. The team welcomed him warmly, their diverse personalities forming a vibrant and chaotic tapestry of young heroism. Beast Boy wasted no time cracking jokes to break the ice, while Starfire's infectious enthusiasm made Y/N feel immediately at home. Even Raven, with her enigmatic demeanor, offered a quiet nod of approval. Missions with the team were exhilarating, pushing Y/N to adapt quickly as he realized just how much his Kryptonian powers could contribute. Yet, not everything was seamless, especially when he met the Titans' leader, Tim Drake.

Tim, the third Robin and a tactical genius, was the polar opposite of Y/N. Where Y/N relied on instinct and raw power, Tim was meticulous, deliberate, and calculated. From the moment they met, their personalities clashed like oil and water. Strategy meetings became arenas for subtle confrontations; Y/N often suggested daring, high-risk plans fueled by his confidence in his abilities, while Tim meticulously picked apart every flaw in his proposals. Tim's cold, analytical tone grated on Y/N's nerves, and Y/N's impulsive nature frustrated Tim to no end.

Their friction extended to the battlefield. Y/N's instinct to leap headfirst into danger often disrupted Tim's carefully laid plans. While his intentions were always noble—saving teammates, defusing threats before they escalated—Tim saw his actions as reckless, a disregard for the chain of command. Meanwhile, Y/N bristled at what he perceived as Tim's unwillingness to trust his instincts or acknowledge his contributions. The tension simmered, turning every mission into a secondary battleground between them.

For the rest of the team, the dynamic was impossible to ignore. Beast Boy jokingly referred to them as "frenemies," though the underlying tension was no laughing matter. Starfire tried to mediate with her boundless optimism, while Raven remained characteristically silent, though her raised brow often betrayed her amusement at their constant bickering. Despite the volatility, neither Y/N nor Tim could deny the other's strengths. Y/N couldn't help but respect Tim's brilliance, even if he found his rigid demeanor insufferable. Likewise, Tim begrudgingly acknowledged—if only to himself—that Y/N's raw power and instincts had saved the team more times than he cared to admit.

Their relationship became a powder keg of competition and unspoken respect. Y/N pushed Tim to loosen his grip on control, while Tim forced Y/N to think before acting. Each encounter between them was a battle of wills, with the team holding their breath to see whether the two would eventually find common ground—or explode into an all-out clash. One thing was certain: their rivalry, however tense, was driving them both to new heights. Whether it would ultimately end in mutual respect or irrevocable division was a question only time would answer.

Tim leaned against the counter in the Titans Tower common area, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, his sharp gaze fixed on the scene outside. The sprawling lawn just beyond the glass windows was alive with activity, the sounds of laughter and playful banter filtering faintly through the thick panes. Y/N was at the center of it, locked in an impromptu game of tag with Superboy and Beast Boy. The grin on his face was wide and unapologetically mischievous as he blurred across the lawn with Kryptonian speed, effortlessly dodging Beast Boy, who had taken on the sleek, feathered form of a falcon.

Hovering nearby, Superboy—arms crossed and a smirk tugging at his lips—watched the spectacle with amusement. "Really, Y/N? That's the best you've got? You call that fast?" Conner teased, his tone full of mock arrogance.

Y/N laughed, his voice bright and unrestrained. "Faster than you, Conner. Want me to prove it?" He suddenly shot upward, hovering in the air just long enough to taunt his feathered pursuer. "Come on, bird-boy, step it up!"

Beast Boy swooped low in an attempt to tag Y/N, only for the Kryptonian to spin out of his reach at the last moment, landing gracefully on the grass below. The crunch of his boots barely registered before he was off again, the game picking up in intensity.

Inside, Tim's jaw tightened as he watched the carefree display. He brought his coffee mug to his lips, taking a deliberate sip as his eyes narrowed. To Tim, this wasn't just harmless fun; it was yet another example of Y/N's irresponsibility, his refusal to take anything seriously. The longer Tim watched, the more his irritation simmered until it became impossible to ignore. He turned away abruptly, setting his mug down on the counter with a little too much force.

Cassie Sandsmark, lounging lazily on the nearby couch with her legs draped over one armrest and her phone in hand, caught the telltale signs of Tim's brewing frustration. She didn't even bother looking up as she spoke. "Okay, Tim. Just say it. You're dying to rant."

Tim shot her a look before pacing a few steps across the room, his agitation evident. "You want to know what drives me crazy, Cassie? That." He jabbed a finger toward the window, where Y/N had just tackled Conner, both of them laughing as they rolled onto the grass.

Cassie arched an eyebrow, finally setting her phone down as her curiosity got the better of her. "What, exactly, is 'that'? Two Kryptonians having fun? Beast Boy living his best animal life? Or the fact that you can't relate to any of it?"

"It's not about the goofing off," Tim snapped, though the sharpness in his voice betrayed him. "It's about Y/N. He's impossible, Cassie. Ever since he joined this team, he's been nothing but a headache. He doesn't follow orders. He doesn't respect plans. He just... does whatever he wants! Like the rest of us are just here to clean up after him."

Cassie leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Come on, Tim. Y/N's not that bad. He's just... spirited. Like you were when you started. And—"

"Don't compare him to me," Tim interrupted, his voice tight with irritation. "When I started, I knew how to follow orders. I wasn't out there flying around, heat vision blazing, acting like I could solve everything on my own."

Cassie tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "No, Tim, you were just dressing up in green tights and trying to keep up with Batman. Totally different."

Tim ignored the jab, continuing his tirade as he gestured toward the window. "Look at Conner. He's Kryptonian too. But do you see him acting like that? No. Conner listens. He works with the team. He doesn't treat this like it's some kind of playground."

Cassie let out a short laugh as she stood, stretching her arms above her head. "Tim, Conner used to wear leather jackets and call himself Superman 2.0. And you think Y/N's cocky?"

Tim rolled his eyes but pressed on, undeterred. "At least Conner's grown up. He's reliable. Y/N? He's all ego. He thinks just because he's Kryptonian, he doesn't have to follow the rules."

Cassie crossed her arms and stepped closer, her tone growing serious. "Or maybe you just don't like him because he's not you, Tim. Y/N challenges you. And let's be honest—you don't like being challenged."

Tim opened his mouth to argue but faltered, his expression darkening as he turned his gaze back to the window. Outside, Y/N had picked up Beast Boy—now in the form of a small, squirming cat—and was holding him aloft while laughing. Conner stood nearby, shaking his head in mock disapproval but clearly enjoying himself.

"I don't know, Cassie," Tim admitted finally, his voice quieter. "He's just... exhausting. A pain."

Cassie's expression softened, and she reached out to clap him on the shoulder. "He's your pain, Tim. And whether you like it or not, he's part of this team now. You'll figure it out. You always do."

With that, she turned and left, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts. His eyes lingered on the scene outside, a mix of frustration and reluctant curiosity swirling in his mind. For all of Y/N's recklessness, there was something about him that Tim couldn't quite dismiss. Whether it was admiration or simply annoyance, Tim wasn't sure. But one thing was certain—this wasn't the last time Y/N would challenge everything Tim thought he knew about leadership.

The Teen Titans gathered in the dimly lit briefing room, the usual buzz of camaraderie replaced by a suffocating tension. Conner had been missing for three days after not returning from a mission. His disappearance felt like a gaping hole in the team's core, but for Tim, it was personal. Conner wasn't just a teammate—he was his best friend, his brother. The loss was a wound, raw and urgent, that spurred Tim into overdrive. He had spent every waking moment combing through leads, piecing together fragments of evidence. Now, he stood before the team, every detail meticulously prepared, determined not to fail.

The holographic display of a sprawling research facility flickered to life above the central console, casting a blue glow over the somber faces of the Titans. Seated around the table, Wonder Girl, Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, and Y/N studied the image. Each wore expressions of determination laced with unease. Even Starfire's usual warmth seemed dimmed under the weight of the situation.

Tim stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid and his voice steady as he began. "This is where they're holding Conner. A black-site research facility just outside Metropolis. No name, no public record, but the tech they're using? It's advanced. Advanced enough to take down a Kryptonian." His jaw tightened. "We don't have time to figure out who's backing them or why. The only thing that matters is getting Conner back—alive."

He tapped a control panel, and the hologram zoomed in on the facility's layout, revealing a labyrinth of corridors, fortified walls, and clusters of patrol patterns. "I've analyzed their defenses. Armed guards, surveillance drones, motion detectors. They've planned for intrusions, which means they'll be ready for us. But they've also made mistakes." He pointed to a section of the hologram. "These are their weak points. Here's the plan."

The room grew quieter as Tim's voice took on its characteristic precision. "Cassie, Starfire, Beast Boy—you'll approach from the north. Cause a distraction. Loud and chaotic. Make them think it's a full assault." Cassie nodded firmly, her fingers gripping the hilt of her lasso. Starfire's green eyes glimmered with a determined light, and Beast Boy gave a quick thumbs-up, his usual humor replaced by grim resolve.

Tim continued. "Meanwhile, Raven, Y/N, and I will infiltrate from the south wing." He gestured to a series of ventilation shafts and maintenance access points. "This area is less guarded, but not by much. Once inside, we'll head straight for the central lab. That's where they're likely keeping Conner. We regroup there, neutralize any threats, and get him out. Quick, clean, no unnecessary risks."

The team nodded along, their trust in Tim's leadership evident. All except Y/N, who leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his brow furrowed. His instincts, honed by his Kryptonian heritage and countless battles, often clashed with Tim's rigid, calculated strategies. Now was no different. He stared at the hologram, skepticism etched across his face.

Tim noticed and locked eyes with him, his tone sharpening. "And Y/N," he said, his voice cutting through the room, "I need you to follow the plan. Exactly as I've laid it out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "You don't trust me? Is that it?"

Tim didn't waver, his gaze steady and unyielding. "I trust you to do your job, but your impulses are a liability. This mission isn't about showing off or proving anything. It's about Conner's life. If you deviate, if you act on instinct instead of sticking to the plan, you could put him—and all of us—in danger. Do you understand?"

The room fell silent, the tension between the two palpable. Raven glanced between them, her expression unreadable but her fingers twitching faintly, as if bracing for an argument. Cassie shifted in her seat but said nothing, her eyes fixed on Y/N. Even Beast Boy, usually quick with a quip, seemed to hold his breath.

Y/N's jaw tightened, his pride clearly bruised, but after a long pause, he gave a curt nod. "Fine. I'll follow the plan."

Tim didn't blink, didn't soften. He simply nodded back, turning his attention to the rest of the team. "Good. Then suit up. We leave in an hour."

As the Titans rose from their seats and filed out, Y/N lingered for a moment, his eyes still locked on the hologram of the facility. For all his bravado, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. Not about his abilities—he knew what he could do—but about whether following Tim's plan would be enough to save Conner.

Tim watched him from the corner of his eye but didn't say anything. He turned back to the display, his mind already running through every contingency, every possible failure point. Conner's life depended on this plan. On them. And Tim Drake wasn't about to let anything, or anyone, derail it.

The mission unfolded under the shroud of a moonless night, the Titans moving with practiced precision through the shadows. The air buzzed with tension, every member hyper-focused on their role. At the north entrance, Cassie, Starfire, and Beast Boy launched their diversion with dazzling chaos.

Starfire's energy blasts streaked through the dark like falling stars, each impact erupting in a burst of fiery brilliance that sent guards scrambling. Cassie wielded her golden lasso with an elegance that belied its devastating power, the crackling energy binding and electrocuting adversaries in one swift motion. Meanwhile, Beast Boy transformed into a hulking rhino, his massive form barreling through barricades and scattering enemies like toy soldiers. The cacophony of explosions, shouts, and roaring beasts filled the air, drawing the facility's defenders like moths to a flame.

Miles away, on the south wing, Tim Drake led Y/N and Raven with the precision of a seasoned tactician. Every step was calculated, every movement coordinated. They slipped past surveillance cameras and roving patrols, their presence a ghostly whisper in the heavily guarded corridors. Raven's dark portals shimmered with an otherworldly energy, allowing them to bypass locked doors and heavily reinforced checkpoints. Tim's grappling hook hissed as he secured it to overhead beams, pulling himself up with ease before disabling security systems with a flick of his wrist-mounted device.

Y/N followed close behind, his Kryptonian strength restrained but ready to explode into action at a moment's notice. His senses were on edge, his heightened hearing catching every echo, every distant thrum of machinery. He hated the slow, deliberate pace—every instinct screamed at him to act, to smash through the walls and find Conner. But Tim's voice echoed in his mind: Conner's life is on the line. Recklessness could cost him everything.

Tim paused at a junction, holding up a hand to stop the group. He crouched low, his eyes fixed on the glowing map projected from his wrist-mounted device. "We're close," he whispered. "The central lab is just up ahead. Stay quiet."

Raven nodded, her dark eyes scanning the corridor ahead. Y/N clenched his fists, his impatience mounting. He focused on his breathing, forcing himself to fall in line despite the growing urge to break away.

As they crept forward, a faint sound reached Y/N's ears. He froze mid-step, his head tilting slightly as his enhanced hearing kicked into overdrive. It was a voice—low, muffled, but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat. He strained to hear more, the sound growing clearer with each passing second. It was Conner. He was sure of it.

Y/N's eyes widened, and he turned sharply toward Tim. "Tim," he whispered, his voice taut with urgency. "I hear him. Conner's down that way." He pointed toward a dimly lit side corridor branching off from their path.

Tim's head snapped toward the corridor, his jaw tightening. "We don't know that for sure," he replied, his tone low but firm. "It could be a trap."

"It's not a trap," Y/N shot back, his voice rising slightly. "I know his voice. It's him."

Tim's expression hardened. "And if it's a recording? A lure? We stick to the plan. The central lab is the target. That's where he's most likely being held."

Y/N's frustration flared, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'm not leaving him behind!" he hissed, his Kryptonian instincts screaming to take action.

"Y/N, stand down," Tim ordered, his voice sharp as steel. "That's an order. We can't afford to—"

But before Tim could finish, Y/N shot down the side corridor in a blur, his Kryptonian speed making it impossible for either Tim or Raven to stop him.

"Y/N!" Tim growled through clenched teeth, activating his comm unit. "Get back here! That's an order!" His voice crackled through the comms, but there was no response.

Raven turned her gaze to Tim, her expression unreadable but her tone calm. "Do we follow?"

Tim exhaled sharply, a storm of anger and worry flashing across his face. "No," he said after a moment, his voice tight. "We stick to the plan. If he's right, we'll find Conner. If he's wrong..." He trailed off, his mind already racing through contingencies.

Raven hesitated but nodded, her dark energy swirling faintly around her hands. "Then let's move. The longer we wait, the worse this gets."

Tim glanced down the now-empty corridor where Y/N had disappeared, his jaw tight with frustration. You better be right, Y/N, he thought grimly. With a sharp motion, he gestured for Raven to follow, leading the way toward the central lab.

Y/N followed the faint sound of Conner's voice through a maze of dimly lit corridors, his heart pounding with urgency. Each muffled syllable drew him closer until he arrived at a heavily secured steel door. Without hesitation, he planted his hands on the edges and pushed. The reinforced metal groaned in protest before screeching open under his Kryptonian strength, shards of broken locks clattering to the floor.

The room beyond was dimly lit, bathed in the eerie glow of fluorescent lights reflecting off sleek, metallic surfaces. At the center of the room lay Conner, strapped to a cold, sterile medical table surrounded by intricate machinery humming ominously. Energy bands glowing with a sickly green light pinned his arms and legs in place, the faint pulsation of their glow sapping him of strength.

Y/N's stomach twisted at the sight of his friend. Conner's usually vibrant complexion was ashen, his chest rising and falling weakly. For a moment, all Y/N felt was raw, unfiltered anger—a burning need to tear apart everything and everyone responsible.

"Conner!" he called, stepping further into the room.

The moment his boots hit the floor, his senses prickled. A chill crawled up his spine as an all-too-familiar voice echoed from the shadows.

"Well, well," the voice drawled, smooth and venomous. "If it isn't Superman's understudy."

Y/N's head snapped toward the corner of the room, and Lex Luthor emerged from the shadows, his sharp suit immaculate and his calculating smirk razor-sharp. In his hand, a small shard of Kryptonite glowed menacingly, its green hue casting ghostly shadows across his face.

"Did you really think you could storm in here unchallenged?" Lex said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You Kryptonians are so predictable. Always so... impulsive."

Y/N gritted his teeth, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The nausea from the Kryptonite's presence gnawed at his insides, but he forced himself to stay focused. His eyes flicked between Conner's prone form and Lex, weighing his options.

"Let him go," Y/N growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Lex's smirk deepened. "Oh, I don't think so. Conner here is... special. A masterpiece, really. A perfect blend of Kryptonian and human DNA. And you? You're just another reckless child playing dress-up."

Y/N didn't wait for Lex to finish. He surged forward, pushing through the Kryptonite's weakening effects as his singular focus honed in on Conner. Reaching the table, he grabbed the glowing restraints and ripped them apart with a burst of raw strength. Sparks flew, and the machinery around him sparked and whined in protest.

"Y/N..." Conner mumbled weakly, his eyelids fluttering open. His voice was hoarse, barely audible. "You shouldn't... be here."

"Save it," Y/N said, gently helping him off the table. "We're getting out of here."

But before they could move, a sharp click echoed through the room. Y/N turned just in time to see Lex pull out a sleek pistol, its barrel glowing faintly green. His eyes widened in realization, but the Kryptonite in his system dulled his reflexes.

Lex fired. The Kryptonite bullet struck Y/N in the side, the pain exploding through his body like liquid fire. He staggered, his knees hitting the floor as a strangled cry escaped his lips. His vision blurred, and every breath felt like shards of glass slicing through his lungs.

"Foolish," Lex sneered, stepping closer, his weapon trained on Y/N's chest. "You Kryptonians are all the same—fragile in the face of real power. And you've made this far too easy."

Y/N fought to stay upright, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers. The room spun, but his focus remained on Conner, who was still too weak to fight.

Lex smirked, raising the gun. "Goodbye, boy."

Before he could pull the trigger, a golden blast of energy tore through the air, knocking the weapon from Lex's hand. He stumbled back in shock as the Titans burst into the room.

Starfire's glowing fists lit up the space like twin suns as she launched another energy blast, forcing Lex to retreat further. "Step away from them!" she commanded, her voice ringing with authority.

Wonder Girl charged in next, her lasso of lightning crackling with raw power. "You're done, Luthor!" she shouted, her eyes blazing with determination.

Behind them, Raven's dark magic filled the room, swirling around Y/N and Conner like a protective cocoon. Shadows danced across the walls as she focused her energy on shielding them from further harm.

Lex scowled, his perfect composure cracking. He glanced between the advancing Titans and the exit, weighing his options. "This isn't over," he hissed, retreating toward a hidden door at the far end of the room. With the press of a button on his wrist, a metallic door slid open, and he disappeared into the shadows.

"Coward," Cassie muttered, already turning her attention to Y/N.

The room fell silent except for the hum of dying machinery and Y/N's labored breaths. Tim was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees beside his teammate. Blood pooled around Y/N's side, the Kryptonite bullet still embedded in his flesh. His skin was pale, and his breathing shallow.

"Y/N," Tim said urgently, his voice steadier than the panic in his eyes. "Stay with me. We'll get you out of here."

"I'm fine," Y/N muttered weakly, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. "Get Conner out first."

"Stop talking," Tim snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. He pulled a small medkit from his utility belt, his hands moving with practiced precision. "You're not fine. That bullet is still in you."

Raven knelt beside him, her hands glowing with dark energy. "I can slow the effects," she said calmly, though her expression was tense. "But we need to get him back to the Tower. Fast."

Conner, still leaning heavily on Cassie for support, looked at Y/N with a mix of guilt and gratitude. "Y/N... I'm sorry. I never should've—"

"Don't," Y/N interrupted, forcing a faint smile despite the pain. "You'd do the same for me, Kon."

Tim's jaw tightened as he helped lift Y/N to his feet, his earlier frustration giving way to something softer. "We'll talk about your reckless decisions later," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "Right now, let's get you out of here."

With the team covering their retreat, the Titans made their way out of the facility, battered but victorious. Y/N, barely conscious, leaned on Tim as they moved. For all the annoyance and tension between them, Tim couldn't shake the thought that losing Y/N wasn't an option he was willing to consider. Not now. Not ever.

Tim stood just outside the medbay of Titans Tower, his shoulders stiff and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his utility belt. He leaned against the wall, his eyes locked on the scene inside. Y/N lay unconscious on the operating table, his normally vibrant complexion pale and lifeless. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, the glow of Kryptonite-removal equipment casting an unsettling green light over the room. Cyborg was hunched over Y/N, his mechanical fingers moving with the kind of precision only he could manage, carefully extracting every trace of the deadly Kryptonite bullet from the Kryptonian's body.

Tim's jaw tightened as he watched, his mind a storm of emotions he couldn't control. Worry. Frustration. Guilt. He was used to pressure, to life-or-death situations, but this felt different. Y/N wasn't just another teammate—he was family. And now, all Tim could do was stand there, helpless, as Cyborg worked to save him.

The sound of footsteps behind him pulled Tim from his spiraling thoughts. He turned to see Conner Kent approaching, still visibly drained from his own ordeal. The usually confident Superboy leaned against the doorway for support, his face etched with guilt and worry.

"How's he doing?" Conner asked, his voice quiet but heavy.

Tim exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Cyborg's got the bullet out, but the Kryptonite poisoned his system. It's going to take time for his body to recover. He's stable... for now." Though Tim's tone was measured, there was no mistaking the tightness in his voice.

Conner's gaze shifted to Y/N, lying motionless on the table. His fists clenched at his sides. "He saved me," he said after a moment, his voice thick with guilt. "If he hadn't come after me... if he hadn't—"

"He shouldn't have had to," Tim interrupted, sharper than he intended. Conner flinched at the words, but Tim didn't stop. "None of this should've happened."

Tim sighed, leaning back against the wall as his anger ebbed, replaced by exhaustion. He crossed his arms, staring down at the floor. "I told him to stick to the plan," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "I begged him to stick to the plan. But no—Y/N being Y/N, he had to go charging in like a hero."

Conner straightened slightly, his guilt replaced by a flicker of defiance. "He is a hero, Tim. He saved me."

Tim looked up, his eyes narrowing. "And he almost got himself killed doing it. Do you even realize how reckless that was? He ran off without backup, straight into a trap set by Lex Luthor! He got lucky this time, Conner. But what about next time? What happens if he doesn't make it out?"

Conner's jaw tightened, his voice low but firm. "You think I wanted him to get hurt for me? I didn't. But he did what he had to do. Just like you would've."

Tim opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. He stared at Conner, frustration and understanding warring in his expression. Finally, he leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his face.

"He drives me crazy," Tim admitted, his voice softer now. "He's reckless. Impulsive. Half the time it feels like he's actively trying to make me lose my mind. But he's also... brave. He cares about this team, about the people he's fighting for, more than anything else. And yeah, he saved your life tonight. I respect him for that."

Conner's expression softened, and for a moment, the two of them stood in silence, their gazes drawn to Y/N. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors filled the quiet, a small reassurance that their friend was still fighting.

Finally, Cyborg stepped out of the medbay, pulling off his surgical gloves. He looked exhausted but satisfied as he addressed them. "He's gonna be okay," Cyborg said, his voice steady. "I got all the Kryptonite out, and his system's stabilizing. He's not out of the woods yet, but with rest and some time, he'll make a full recovery."

Tim exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him. "Thanks, Vic," he said quietly, his voice carrying more emotion than he intended.

Cyborg nodded, offering them a reassuring smile before heading down the hall. Conner leaned heavily against the doorframe, his shoulders sagging with relief. Tim, meanwhile, stayed rooted in place, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

"You should tell him that," Conner said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Tim glanced at him, frowning. "Tell him what?"

Conner smirked faintly. "All that stuff about respecting him. You know, before you start chewing him out for breaking the plan again."

Tim rolled his eyes, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'll think about it."

They stood there for a moment longer, watching as Y/N's chest rose and fell with steady breaths. The tension that had gripped the Tower for hours was finally beginning to ease, replaced by the quiet strength of their bond. For all their arguments, all the mistakes and risks, they were a team. And in that moment, Tim knew one thing for certain: he'd fight just as hard for Y/N as Y/N had for Conner.

They would get through this. Together.

The past few days had blurred into a haze of recovery for Y/N. After surviving the mission, the Kryptonite wound, and the chaos of Lex Luthor's escape, he was confined to the medbay at Titans Tower. His Kryptonian physiology had worked overtime to heal him, but the lingering effects of Kryptonite poisoning slowed his usual rapid recovery. Every movement sent a dull ache radiating from his side, and exhaustion hung over him like a heavy cloud. He hated feeling vulnerable, trapped in bed while the team moved forward without him.

What Y/N hadn't expected, though, was Tim's constant presence.

Tim wasn't known for his warmth. He was the strategist, the tactician—the one who held the team together with sharp focus and relentless discipline. But since Y/N had stabilized, Tim had been a near-constant fixture in the medbay. Y/N would drift in and out of restless sleep, only to find Tim sitting nearby, flipping through mission reports or scrolling through data on his tablet. At first, Y/N thought it was a coincidence, but by the third day, it was clear: Tim wasn't just checking in; he was hovering.

The morning light filtered dimly through the reinforced windows as Y/N stirred awake, groggy but alert. The soft whoosh of the medbay door opening caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Tim walking in, balancing a tray in one hand and a folder in the other.

"Is that...?" Y/N rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Chicken noodle soup," Tim replied without missing a beat. He set the tray on the bedside table with a practiced ease, as if he'd done this a hundred times before. "Figured you'd be tired of Raven's herbal remedies by now."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he propped himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly at the motion. "Didn't peg you for the soup-delivery type, Drake."

Tim raised an eyebrow, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "I didn't make it. I'm not a miracle worker," he said, his tone dry. "Picked it up from that diner downtown. Best chicken noodle soup in the city."

Y/N chuckled softly, though the movement made his side throb. "Wow. I didn't know you had a nurturing side. What's next? Tucking me in?"

Tim rolled his eyes but didn't respond to the jab. Instead, he unfolded a napkin and placed it neatly next to the bowl, his movements precise and deliberate. "Eat," he instructed, gesturing toward the tray. "You need to keep your strength up."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, more curious than amused now. "Okay, seriously, what's going on with you? You've been checking on me like clockwork. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, but... it's a little out of character."

Tim hesitated for a moment, his usual composed demeanor faltering just enough for Y/N to notice. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he met Y/N's gaze. "You almost died," he said bluntly. His voice was even, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. "And before you give me the 'Kryptonians bounce back' speech, don't. Kryptonite changes everything. We didn't know if you were going to make it, and I—" He stopped himself, glancing away briefly before continuing. "I don't want to go through that again."

Y/N's smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet surprise. He wasn't used to seeing Tim like this—unguarded. Vulnerable. "Tim, I'm fine," he said, though the words came out softer than he intended. "You don't have to—"

"I'm going to, whether you like it or not," Tim interrupted, his voice firm. "You're not fine yet. And until you are, I'm going to make sure you have what you need. Even if that means... soup."

Y/N studied him for a long moment, the teasing gone from his expression. There was something unspoken in Tim's words, a guilt he hadn't voiced. "You're blaming yourself," Y/N said quietly.

Tim's jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring at the wall as if it held the answers he couldn't give. "If I'd handled the mission better—if I'd planned for Luthor, accounted for the Kryptonite—none of this would've happened."

"That's not on you," Y/N said, his voice firm despite the ache in his side. "I made the choice to go after Conner. Nothing you could've done would've stopped me."

Tim shook his head, frustration flashing across his face. "You shouldn't have had to make that choice. It's my job to keep this team safe, to make sure everyone gets out in one piece. And you—"

"I'm still here," Y/N interrupted, his tone steady. "You did your job, Tim. You got us out. You saved me."

Tim sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension eased. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to make sure you're okay now."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound carrying more warmth than amusement. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

Tim smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair. "Takes one to know one."

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Y/N finally picked up the spoon and took a tentative sip of the soup. It was warm and surprisingly good, a welcome change from the bland nutrient packs he'd been stuck with. He glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

"You know," Y/N said, his tone light but teasing, "if you keep this up, I might start thinking you actually like me."

Tim scoffed, his smirk widening slightly. "Don't push your luck."

For the rest of the afternoon, Tim stayed by Y/N's side, quietly flipping through mission reports while Y/N finished his soup. It wasn't a grand gesture, and Tim would never make a big deal out of it. But to Y/N, it meant more than words could say. For all of Tim's stoic exterior, his actions spoke volumes. And in that moment, Y/N realized something he hadn't before: Tim Drake cared. In his own stubborn, meticulous way, he cared. And that made all the difference.

[limetimo]

I think it could be, in a literary sense, a shorthand for patience and caring? Everyone having the same smutty study materials is certainly a large part of it and I feel like this sentence is not going to be quite coherent no matter how many times I rearrange it so you need to compare each number of fingers and their roles/implications in the stretching process

One finger is the precursory, the scout, the confirmation of "is this okay with you, are we green to go?", the bringer of lube

Two fingers is for after enthusiastic consent was given, verbally or otherwise. It's scissoring, and finding the "sweet spot" aka the prostate. It's a simple device for impatience and lust when the bottom starts begging that "this is enough, i need you, fuck me now" and when the cock slides in the stretch is just this side of too much to be overwhelmingly delicious.

Three fingers is for love and patience because the cock slides right home in one go. They both have to pause for a moment so that they don't lose it and come immediately. They take the moment to gaze into each other's eyes and kiss sloppily, and then the top hikes the bottom's legs on their hips and ploughs them through the mattress.

Four fingers is for big cocks and size queens but like no real narrative implications that I'd notice

Fisting is for kinksters and absolute devotion, you have your partner impaled on your hand like a sock puppet and you SHOULD be a little weird about it or what's the point

And forearms are for the monsterfuckers. And sexy gore times

Stretching with toys but no fingers is for play and teasing and bdsm

No prep and copious amounts of lube is to get Tony Stark absolutely destroyed by Winter Soldier's super soldier cock (i should have bookmarked that one sjtsjtjtjtid what a shame, it was hot as fuck) or rape roleplays/fantasies

No stretch no lube is either rape or "author has no idea how gay sex works so we're going to pretend people work like that this universe"

(this analysis is only based on very very many Drarry and MCU fics, maybe other fandoms have their own formulas?)

So the "1 finger, 2 fingers, 3 fingers, cock" formula is extremely common in fanfic, but in reality it isn’t actually necessary. How come that this has become so incredibly prevalent in fic, to the level that not writing it that way is seen as "wrong"?

--

The pendulum swings back and forth in slash fandom over time.

And a lot of people learn to write erotica by reading other erotica in that same niche and not other types.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Meet Idris....

⇰ Full Name - Idris Alinia Moore

○ Someone named Idris is known for being someone with high intelligence, and also have wisdom, trustworthy and patient.

○ Idris' shows her patience most when it comes to her family, especially her children and Jack. Despite everything that happens with Jack some claim that she was too patient at times with Jack when things were hard.

○ Alinia means bright, beautiful and light.

○ Idris is known as someone who has a very bright personality similar to Jack she can easily light up a room when she walks in. She is also very confident, despite being on the curvy side she always dressed with confidence and no one can deny she is beautiful.

○ Common everyday nickname is Iddy. Jack use to always call her Idz but he's the only one who calls her that and it makes her heart skip a beat everytime he uses it.

⇰ Iddy's Style/ How I picture her:

(this is how I PICTURE Idris, if you choose to want to believe that you are Idris in this AU that's fine too.)

⇰ Birthday - January 15, 2000

○ Yes she is older than Jack, he finds it hot that she's older than him. Which every time he does mention it she gives him a very 'deadpan' look because she is barely a year older.

○ She is a classic Capricorn stubborn, laid back (even though she can light up a room, she rather be in the background), hardworking, very independent, responsible and ambitious.

⇰ Important Facts:

○ She was actually born in Boston.

○ Both of Iddy's parents are professors and researchers. But when her parents ultimately spilt when she was in middle school. Her mom decided to take a job as a professor with UMich.

○ Her parents weren't a happy couple and put her in the middle a lot. They also didn't do a good job at co-parenting when they did finally spilt. Her biggest fear is becoming her mom a single mom and ultimately that comes true at some point.

○ Due to moving to Ann Arbor at a semi young age she refers to it as home, (even the first time she meets Jack.) but Idris is ultimately a classic city girl.

○ Iddy when growing up went through different sports even at one point trying soccer. But she ended up falling more in love with dance and the arts than anything else.

○ Idris was a contemporary dancer and ballerina until around her senior year of high school she broke her ankle. Even after it healed, she was never really at the same level she was prior to breaking and ultimately decided she was done.

○ Even though she could of gone to UMich for free due to her mother or even Boston University where her father was a professor. Both of her parents knew she didn't want that. They were very respectful in letting her decide where she wanted to go to college.

○ Due to always being a city girl, it wasn't a shock to anyone that she landed at NYU. She had a double major in art history and communications. Along with a minor in art therapy.

○ When she graduated in May 2022 she was already 6 months pregnant. (My favorite fact of the day she Jack begging her not to wear heels because of her swollen ankles. He is literally glued to her side as much as possible. He even holds his breath and squeezes Quinn's hand when she's walking across the stage.)

○ Her minor in art therapy although she never uses it professionally does help her with both Zander and Zola.

○ Although she has friends from college, getting pregnant your senior year doesn't make you the most social butterfly. So she starts to withdrawl and focus on graduating and building a life with Jack.

○ Due to that her besties are her little sister Ava (they are ride or dies and always have been), and Quinn.

○ Quinn and Idris met that first summer after she met Jack when she came up for July 4th. Something just clicked immediately and they have been besties since. Jack was actually really scared he lost his chance of staying friends with benefits when he saw how Idris and Quinn were with each other. But they are just phonetic soulmates.

○ Quinn and Ava at some point met and also became good friends. So they all have a group chat together that they text in daily. Quinn and Ava are the first people to know what's going on besides Luke who is physically in the apartment with Jack and Idris.

○ Idris after graduating works as a consult for a company that owns multiple of the smaller art galleries over the city. She helps bring new artists in to sign with the galleries. But her main job is to be a middle person between clients that want a piece of art and the artist. She helps not only find the art her client wants but makes sure she's able to secure the deal.

○ Idris is extremely involved in the Devils fundraiser organizations. Specifically she mostly helps organizes events such as getting canned goods for their Gift of Giving Foundation etc. But she is heavily involved in helping plan hospital visits and always gets the company she works for to donate art supplies to patients because she believes art is a way that everyone can process emotions. She is also heavily involved in Devils Youth Foundation.

○ Even when they are seperated she doesn't stop supporting those charities even though most of the people within the organizations expected her to. She also known to help extend a hand to Quinn with his charity work for firefighters and she is really passionate about the Canucks Autism Program.

○ Idris' relationship with the other WAGs is a little complex. The way she became a WAG in general is controversial since she literally got pregnant and then all of a sudden she was living with Jack a couple months later.

○ The other WAGs do fall in love her bright and funny personality. She ends being 'that wag' with her style and all her help with the Devils Organization. Due to this she ends up planning a lot of WAG events and she thinks she's gaining a good group of friends.

○ When Idris and Jack's relationship starts falling apart and she stops planning events, she is still included in events but she's struggling with depression so she doesn't go. By the time she asks Jack for a break, none of the wags really talk to her.

○ When Jack and Idris do eventually get back together, she doesn't really want to be apart of the wags or associated with them. Of course gossip accounts on Twitter have a lot to say about this. But ultimately the public sides with Iddy sort of surprisingly.

○ Think Kylie Kelce energy when thinking of Idris. She is just known for being such a real person and kind with all her chairity work. So no one blames her for not wanting to be involved with the 'influencer wags.'

⇰ Iddy's Instagram: