#into a girl and now he's a girl. and then i get lost in the pronoun weeds LMAO

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[fastandcarlos]

Our Little Baby : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: the one that is a series of social posts that journey you and max welcoming your little baby…

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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 407,291 others

ynusername: if there was a competition for man most obsessed with a baby bump max would definitely win btw

37,027 comments

username1: I can’t cope with how adorable these two are 😭

landonorris: if this is an sos yn just lemme know and I’ll hunt him down 😂

maxverstappen1 @/landonorris excuse me for loving my wife and child 🙄

username2: I just know that seashell heart is absolutely max’s creation!!

lilymhe: can you stop making me want to have a baby pls 🥺

alex_albon: @/lilymhe I can very quickly put a stop to that if you want me to!?

ynusername: @/alex_albon stop being a party pooper and give the girl what she wants 😉

username3: can’t wait to see max become the softest dad in the world…

charles_leclerc: can’t wait for the baby to arrive now, do you think you could tell him to hurry up? 😂

schecoperez: the way he talks about your bump in the garage I couldn’t agree with you more!!

username4: have you ever met a cuter couple in your life???

maxverstappen1: and I couldn’t be prouder too…guilty as charged 🙌🏻

username5: poor max will be lost when the baby arrives and yn’s bump disappears 🥺

danielricciardo: I remember the old days when he used to make breakfast like that for me 💔

ynusername: @/danielricciardo you’re welcome to third wheel anytime 😘

username6: these two are goals and no one can tell me otherwise 😂

carmenmmundt: I am so obsessed with how beautiful you and pregnancy are together ✨

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 3,058,172 others

maxverstappen1: life lately…and I wouldn’t have it any other way 🥺🍼

274,071 comments

username7: all the little outfits…I can’t wait to see him in them 🫠

charles_leclerc: dude you are just gonna be the cutest dad in the world with posts like these

landonorris: does this mean I’m as valuable in your life as your wife and child??

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris I wouldn’t quite stretch that far 😂

username8: ofc lando still ended up making the photo dump 😂

redbullracing: admin is still wondering where all the merch is in that wardrobe???

username9: everything about this makes my heart so incredibly happy ✨

carmenmmundt: I spy the orange baby grow that me and george bought for your baby shower 🥺

username10: pls stop max I can’t cope with all these pending dad photos any longer

username11: someone explain why their son is easily gonna be the best dressed kid in the world

schecoperez: just forgetting racing with your favourite teammate like it’s nothing 😭

username12: can’t wait to see max become a dad, he’s gonna be adorable!!

ynusername: so excited for where life is gonna take us over the next few weeks 💕

maxverstappen1 @/ynusername can’t wait to be by your side every step of the way 💙

georgerussell63: jeez we get it you’re having a baby, you’ve barely mentioned it 😂

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liked by schecoperez, lewishamilton and 3,802,749 others

maxverstappen1: he’s here and he’s beautiful, couldn’t be prouder of my incredible wife bringing such a little beauty into this world. my heart is fuller than it ever has been before, someone might need to come and pinch me shortly 💕🐣

279,464 comments

redbullracing: congratulations from everyone on the team, we’re so happy for you and yn ❤️💙

username13: omg he’s the cutest - congratulations you two!! 💕

pierregasly: those photos are beautiful, hope you’re enjoying life as a trio already 💞

username14: the little hands. the little smile. the slightly scrunched nose 😭😭😭

landonorris: immediately on my way round for all the baby cuddles in the world!!

username15: I can’t believe he’s here and looks so adorable too!!

georgerussell63: this is the best news ever, can’t wait to see you both when you’re ready for us!!

carmenmmundt: @/ynusername @/georgerussell63 don’t make us wait too long tho I’m itching to meet little one 🐣

schecoperez: can’t wait to meet baby verstappen soon ☺️

username16: the way they’re looking at him in the middle photo, they’re so in love with him!!

danielricciardo: can’t believe the fresh faced kid I bet all those years ago is now a dad 😭

maxverstappen1: @/danielricciardo I feel so old now 💔

lewishamilton: he’s gorgeous, well done mama and congrats both of you!!

username17: pls don’t talk to me for the rest of the day imma just be staring at these photos 🫠

lilymhe: I’ve never screamed so loud in my life when I saw this post 😂

alex_albon: @/lilymhe can confirm the cats are now hiding underneath the bed because of this

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and 583,103 others

ynusername: some new company on our adventures together. that little smile melts me 🫠❤️

42,958 comments

landonorris: I refuse to accept a child as adorable as yours actually came from the max verstappen ❌

username18: look at that proud dad smile omg 💓

carlossainz55: you need to hurry up and bring him to meet us all 😧

iamrebeccad: not often I agree with carlos 😂 but I do about this!!

username19: they knew exactly what they were doing posting that last photo!!

alexandrasaintmleux: you guys are making me seriously want a baby of my own…don’t let charles know that though 😂

charles_leclerc:@/alexandrasaintmleux I can read a public comments section you know

username20: baby fever has suddenly struck me down hard ⚡️

alex_albon: please stop posting cute baby photos before lily screams the apartment down 🙏🏻

ynusername: @/alex_albon can’t help the fact my son is so adorable 🤷🏻‍♀️

username21: how are two people allowed to make such an adorable little human???

oscarpiastri: your son is already smiling better than me and he’s only a few weeks old 😂

username22: I knew they were gonna be a cute mum and dad but I wasn’t prepared for this!!

username23: that lost photo deserves so much more than just a post on insta 😂

maxverstappen1: with a smile like that little man is gonna be a heartbreaker for sure!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 he’s far too young to ever think that far ahead yet 😂

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liked by carlossainz55, ynusername and 3,483,081 others

maxverstappen1: the stages of my life currently, living high on cloud nine. racing for you now my little buddy ⛅️

289,472 comments

username24: my ovaries are gonna burst if we get many more posts like this…

ynusername: asking for a friend…is it too early to already be wanting another one?!

username25: not max calling his son his little buddy, they’re already the best of pals 💞

lilymhe: I cannot stress how much I love the three of you 💕

username26: can’t wait for the day when max takes his son racing, future wdc pending 🥹

landonorris: well this post is just a little bit cute 😭

username27: now that really is what you call living the dream 😂

danielricciardo: now Ik what the fans are like, I feel like I’m stalking you three these days 😂😂

username28: you know the baby is adorable when my eyes are drawn to him and not the delicious stack of pancakes there 🥞

charles_leclerc: there’s not a chance for the rest of us if you’re riding for little man 😂

username29: I’m already excited to see yn and the baby in the paddock cheering for max!!

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liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe and 582,018 comments

ynusername: I think these photos are proof that the two of us are absolutely obsessed and refuse to leave our son alone for more than five minutes 😂💓

52,939 comments

username30: we don’t blame you yn, how could you leave his cute face alone?!

heidiberger_: I’m just as obsessed with the three of you, ily guys ✨

ynusername: @/heidiberger_ can’t wait to see you when you’re home 🥹

username31: now that is the ultimate proud dad smile 😂

landonorris: I remember when you didn’t leave me alone, now you barely reply to any of my texts 💔

username32: these three really are joined at the hip and it’s the sweetest ☺️

maxverstappen1: I’m never gonna stop being head over heels in love with you both 💞

username33: I’m obsessed with you guys just as much btw!!

georgerussell63: I don’t think anyone can fault just how much you love your little man

redbullracing: almost the right shade of blue guys 😂

ynusername: @/redbullracing we’ll do better from now on admin!

username34: the little feet in the middle picture, eurgh I’m becoming soft for babies now landonorris:

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liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 592,172 others

ynusername: back to my favourite place with my new favourite little human for company. we’re coming to get you papa ❤️💙

59,371 comments

username35: ahhhh it’s finally happening can’t wait to see all the red bull baby photos 🥳

redbullracing: we can’t wait to welcome you back yn and meet baby verstappen too ❤️

username36: can we all take a moment to appreciate the fact he’s sleeping on the plane!

maxverstappen1: can’t wait to be reunited with my team, see you soon!!

landonorris: if I don’t see you guys this weekend I am gonna throw one almighty tantrum btw 😂😂

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris if we don’t see yn can we make a pact to drive his car off the track on sunday??

username37: red bull better have that baby grow ready for him to change into 🥺

carmenmmundt: shut up I’m at the race this weekend, sorry george but I’m leaving you for the weekend now 🥳

username38: max you better win this week so we can get baby celebrations and a podium

schecoperez: max has made sure the garage is perfect for you both…multiple times 😂

ynusername: @/schecoperez I didn’t expect anything less hahah

username39: pls fans and paps make sure you give them the privacy they deserve 🙏🏻

danielricciardo: just remember who looked after you when you first came to f1 and who would like a baby cuddle too 😇

ynusername: @/danielricciardo there’s no way I’m forgetting about you this weekend 🫶🏻

username40: thank you for always blessing us with such adorable baby photos yn 😍

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[pucksandpower]

Oscat

shifter!Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: when you see an adorable stray black cat hanging around your neighborhood, you can’t resist taking him in … but there’s just one problem, the cat’s not actually a cat

Oscar Piastri never thought his life would come to this — crouched under a battered kitchen chair in a cramped university flat, ears flattened against his skull, tail twitching nervously as he watches you fumble with a small red collar.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” you coo, your voice soft and coaxing. You wiggle your fingers, the sound of the collar's bell jingling faintly as you shake it. “I promise you’ll look so cute in this.”

Oscar can’t believe he’s let it get this far. One moment, he’s wandering the neighborhood as a cat, enjoying the freedom that comes with paws instead of feet, and the next — this. A crazy girl who somehow managed to corral him into her apartment and is now intent on … he doesn’t even know what. But he knows it’s not good. He considers bolting, but you’re blocking the only exit, and he isn’t sure he has it in him to leap past you without causing a scene.

“C’mon, I know you like the tuna,” you say, holding up a plate with some leftover fish you’d put out for him earlier. “Just let me get this on you, and I’ll give you more, okay?”

He narrows his eyes, inching back under the chair. This whole situation is ridiculous, and he’s thoroughly regretting his decision to stick around after the first time you fed him. But there was something about you that drew him in — a warmth, maybe, or just the sheer determination with which you tried to get him to trust you.

But now you’ve crossed a line.

You sigh, clearly frustrated, and sit back on your heels. “Why are you being so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, you know? What if you get lost or hurt? You need a collar, at least …”

Oscar’s ears perk up at the concern in your voice, and he feels a pang of guilt. You don’t know what you’re doing — how could you? To you, he’s just a stray cat, not a twenty-three-year-old Formula 1 driver with a secret he can’t afford to let anyone find out. He’s supposed to be smart, calculated, always one step ahead. Not cowering under a chair because a university student wants to play house with him.

You huff and toss the collar onto the table with a clatter. “Fine,” you say, standing up and crossing your arms. “I’ll leave you alone for now, but you’re not getting any more tuna unless you let me put that on you.”

Oscar’s stomach growls, and he curses his weakness. The tuna had been good — too good, if he’s being honest. He watches as you turn away, heading into another room. This is his chance. He could make a break for it, slip out the door before you even realize what’s happening.

But he hesitates.

Why? He wonders, paws shifting restlessly. This isn’t like him. He should be gone by now, back to the comfort of his flat, where he can shift back and pretend this whole mess never happened. Yet something keeps him rooted in place.

Then, he hears you talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, I found a stray,” you say, your voice echoing slightly through the walls. “He’s so cute, but I don’t know … do you think I should take him to the vet? Get him checked out?”

Oscar’s blood runs cold. This is bad. This is really bad. He needs to get out — now.

You continue, “I was thinking maybe I could get him neutered too, you know? So he doesn’t run off and get hurt or something … ”

He bolts from under the chair, skidding across the linoleum as he makes a beeline for the door. But before he can reach it, you step back into the room, phone pressed to your ear.

“Whoa, whoa!” You exclaim, dropping the phone onto the table as you rush to block his path. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Oscar tries to dart around you, but you’re quicker than he anticipated, and he’s forced to leap onto the counter instead. He glares at you from his new perch, fur bristling in warning.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, hands on your hips. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“Yeah, help me lose my manhood,” Oscar mutters under his breath, though it comes out as an indignant hiss.

You frown, clearly not understanding his displeasure. “You’re acting like I’m torturing you or something,” you say, reaching out cautiously. “Just let me put the collar on, okay? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

Oscar swats at your hand, his claws barely grazing your skin. He doesn’t want to hurt you — he just wants you to back off. This is getting too close for comfort.

You pull your hand back, eyes widening in surprise. “Okay, okay, no collar,” you say, trying to soothe him. “We’ll figure something else out.”

But Oscar’s had enough. He leaps from the counter to the windowsill, then down to the floor, and races towards the door again. This time, he manages to slip past you, his sleek black fur a blur as he darts through the narrow opening.

He hears you call after him, your voice tinged with worry, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He sprints down the hallway, paws pounding against the carpeted floor, until he reaches the stairwell. He takes the steps two at a time, his heart racing as he finally bursts out into the cool evening air.

Freedom.

He doesn’t slow down until he’s a good block away from your building, his chest heaving as he ducks into the shadows of a nearby alley. He’s safe. For now.

But then he hears it — your voice, faint but unmistakable, carried on the breeze as you step out of your apartment, searching for him.

“Kitty?” You call, your voice trembling slightly. “Where did you go?”

Oscar slinks further into the shadows, his heart twisting with guilt. He didn’t mean to scare you, but he couldn’t let you take him to the vet. He couldn’t let you get too close. But now, as he listens to the sound of your footsteps growing fainter, he feels a pang of something he hasn’t felt in a long time — regret.

“Please come back,” you whisper, and he can hear the tears in your voice. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to help …”

Oscar’s resolve weakens, his tail flicking nervously as he peeks around the corner. He can see you standing there, arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. You look so small, so vulnerable, and it tugs at something deep inside him.

He shouldn’t care. He’s not supposed to care. He’s always kept his distance, never letting anyone get too close, especially not like this. But here you are, and for reasons he can’t quite explain, he doesn’t want to see you cry.

He takes a tentative step forward, but then stops himself. What can he do? Walk back into your life, let you put that collar on him, and risk everything? Or turn away, leave you behind, and never look back?

You’re wiping at your eyes now, sniffling quietly. “I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself. “Why did I think I could just … ugh.”

Oscar’s ears droop. This is all wrong. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t feel this way. But the sight of you, standing there alone, makes him want to go back, to do something, anything, to make you smile again.

Before he can make a decision, you give up and turn back towards the building, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Oscar watches you go, every instinct telling him to stay hidden, to let you go. But as you disappear through the door, he finds himself inching forward, until he’s standing just outside the entrance, ears perked up, listening for any sign of you.

Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, this isn’t over yet.

***

Oscar can’t help it. He tells himself he’s just checking in, that it’s only temporary. But day after day, he finds himself outside your building, watching, waiting, listening.

It starts with a cautious glance through the window, his keen eyes picking out your silhouette as you move about your flat. The blinds are often drawn, but he can still see enough. Enough to know that something’s changed.

You’re not yourself.

The first day after he ran away, he saw you sitting by the window, staring out into the distance, your face etched with worry. He tells himself it’s none of his business. That he’s done the right thing by leaving. But every time he turns to go, he finds his paws rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn back to you.

And then there’s the phone calls.

Oscar doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he can’t help it when your voice carries through the thin walls of the apartment building. One day, he’s curled up on the windowsill of the flat next door when he hears you talking on the phone again, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, pacing back and forth. “He was here one minute and then gone the next. I’m so worried about him.”

Oscar’s ears perk up, guilt gnawing at him as he listens. You’re talking about him, of course. He knows that. And the fact that you’re still thinking about him, still concerned for his well-being, makes him feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

“He looked healthy,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “But what if something happened to him? What if he got hurt or … or worse?”

He winces at the pain in your voice. He didn’t want to scare you, didn’t want to make you worry. But what choice did he have? Letting you take him to the vet would have exposed him — both literally and figuratively. He couldn’t risk that.

“I read somewhere that stray cats have a lifespan of less than two years,” you say, your tone now laced with a mixture of fear and sadness. “I don’t want that to happen to him. I just … I just want him to be okay.”

Oscar closes his eyes, your words cutting deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. He doesn’t want to be the cause of your pain. But what can he do?

Then, he hears it — the soft, broken sound of you crying.

It’s like a punch to the gut. His ears flatten against his head, and he feels an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame. He doesn’t like seeing you like this. No, that’s not right — he hates it. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, yet here you are, crying because of him.

He tries to walk away, to tell himself that it’s for the best, that you’ll move on and forget about him eventually. But the sound of your sobs echoes in his ears, haunting him, and he knows he can’t just leave it like this.

Maybe going back for a few hours won’t hurt anyone, he rationalizes, pacing back and forth in the alley. He’ll show up, let you see he’s okay, and then leave before things get too complicated. Simple.

But as he sits there, tail flicking with nervous energy, he realizes it’s not that simple. Because the truth is, he doesn’t want to leave. Not really. There’s something about you that draws him in, something that makes him feel … safe.

Wanted.

Needed.

And so, with a heavy sigh, he makes his decision. He waits until the sun sets, the shadows growing long and the streets quiet. Then, he slips through the narrow gap in the window that you always leave open, landing softly on the worn carpet of your living room.

You don’t notice him at first. You’re sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, your phone discarded on the cushion next to you. You’re staring at the TV, but it’s clear you’re not really watching it. Your eyes are red, cheeks stained with tears, and Oscar’s heart clenches at the sight.

He takes a cautious step forward, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He doesn’t want to startle you, doesn’t want to make things worse. But as he approaches, you suddenly turn your head, your eyes widening as they meet his.

“Kitty?” You breathe, sitting up straight. For a moment, you just stare at him, as if you can’t believe he’s real. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across your face, soft and relieved. “You came back.”

Oscar doesn’t move, watching you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. When you don’t make any sudden movements, he takes another step closer, his ears twitching nervously.

You wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “I thought I’d lost you,” you say, your voice shaky but full of warmth. “Where did you go?”

He doesn’t answer, of course — he can’t. But he does allow himself to move closer, until he’s standing right in front of you, his nose just inches from your outstretched hand.

“Can I … ” you ask, your hand hovering in the air, waiting for his permission.

Oscar hesitates for just a moment before he nuzzles against your palm, his fur brushing against your skin. It feels … right, somehow. Comforting. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as you gently stroke his head, your fingers trailing down his back in soothing motions.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, and Oscar can hear the relief in your voice. “I was so worried.”

Guilt twists in his chest again, but he pushes it aside. He’s here now, and that’s what matters. He’ll stay for a little while, just long enough to make sure you’re okay, too.

You sit back, still petting him, and Oscar takes the opportunity to hop up onto the couch beside you. He curls up next to you, resting his head on your leg, and for a moment, everything feels … normal. Peaceful, even.

“You must have been so scared,” you murmur, your voice soft as you continue to stroke his fur. “Running away like that … I don’t blame you, though. I must have freaked you out with all that vet talk.”

Oscar doesn’t react, but internally, he’s cursing himself. Of course you’re blaming yourself. Why wouldn’t you? You have no idea who — or what — he really is. To you, he’s just a scared little stray cat who panicked and bolted at the first sign of trouble.

“But I’m not going to push you anymore,” you say, as if reading his thoughts. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”

The sincerity in your voice hits Oscar like a ton of bricks. He knows he shouldn’t be here, knows he’s playing with fire by getting this close. But in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care. He’s missed this — missed you, even though he barely knows you.

You lean back against the couch, your hand still resting on his back, and Oscar feels a strange sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way — since he’s allowed himself to feel this way. And as much as he knows he should leave, he can’t. Not yet.

He hears you yawn, the sound soft and tired, and he lifts his head to look up at you. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, your movements slow and drowsy. It’s late, and he can see the exhaustion etched into your features.

“Guess we both had a long day,” you mumble, your hand coming to rest on the couch beside him as you settle back into the cushions. “I should probably get to bed.”

Oscar watches as you slowly push yourself up, stretching as you stand. He expects you to head to your bedroom, to leave him on the couch for the night. But instead, you glance down at him, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Wanna come with me?” You ask, your voice soft and inviting.

He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he should stay right where he is, let you go to bed, and slip out the window before morning comes. But the thought of leaving you alone, of returning to the cold, empty streets outside, makes his chest tighten with a loneliness he hasn’t felt in years.

So, against his better judgment, he hops down from the couch and follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

You open the door, flicking on a small bedside lamp, and Oscar watches as you move around the room, pulling back the covers and fluffing up your pillows. He hesitates at the threshold, his instincts warring with the pull he feels toward you.

But then you turn to him, patting the space beside you on the bed, and he’s powerless to resist.

“C’mon, kitty,” you say, your voice warm and coaxing. “You can sleep here tonight.”

He pads over to the bed, jumping up onto the soft mattress. It’s warm, inviting, and before he knows it, he’s curled up next to you, your presence calming in a way he didn’t think possible.

You slip under the covers, lying on your side, and Oscar snuggles closer, his body pressed against yours. He can feel your steady breathing, hear the soft rustle of the sheets as you settle in, and it lulls him into a sense of safety he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, your voice already thick with sleep.

Oscar's eyes drift closed, his body warm and relaxed as he nestles against you. He knows he should be on high alert, ready to bolt at any moment, but for the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to let go. Just for tonight.

As you fall asleep beside him, your hand resting gently on his back, Oscar realizes he’s found something here — something he didn’t know he was missing. He can’t stay forever, but maybe, just maybe, he can stay a little longer.

Just for tonight.

***

Oscar wakes to the sound of a scream that nearly sends him bolting out of bed. His eyes fly open, his heart hammering in his chest, but the feeling that greets him isn’t the familiar warmth of fur or the safe confines of a small, curled-up position.

It’s a body — a human body.

His human body.

And beside him, you’re staring at him, your eyes wide with shock, your mouth open in mid-scream as you scramble to the edge of the bed, clutching the covers around you like a shield.

“What the — who the hell are you?” You shriek, your voice high-pitched and panicked.

Oscar’s brain stutters to catch up with what’s happening. He glances down at himself, realizing with a jolt that he’s completely naked. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This isn’t happening. How could he have been so careless? He’s been shifting for years, but never like this. Never in front of someone. Never in such a vulnerable position.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, his voice rough with sleep and panic. He grabs at the nearest pillow, pressing it to his lap in a desperate attempt to cover himself. “Just, um, don’t freak out. Please.”

“Explain?” You repeat, your voice trembling as you blink rapidly, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. “What the hell are you doing in my bed? And why are you … why are you … naked?”

Oscar’s mind races, the words tangling together in his head. He’s supposed to be good under pressure — he’s faced down race cars at hundreds of kilometers per hour, for crying out loud. But right now, all he can think about is how utterly screwed he is.

“I-I’m not a creep, I swear,” he blurts out, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to — this isn’t what it looks like.”

Your eyes narrow, still full of fear and confusion, but also dawning recognition. You stare at him for a long moment, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then, slowly, the pieces start to fall into place, and your expression shifts from terror to something else entirely.

“Wait a minute,” you say, squinting at him. “I know you. You’re … Oscar Piastri?”

He winces at the sound of his name. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the words. “Oscar Piastri is in my bed. Naked. And I’m … wait, am I still dreaming? Did I fall asleep watching Formula 1 highlights again?”

“No, no, you’re not dreaming,” Oscar says quickly, shaking his head. “This is real. But I promise, I can explain. Just … can we, maybe, both take a breath for a second?”

You inhale sharply, clutching the covers tighter around yourself as you stare at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Okay,” you say, your voice shaky. “Breathing. Breathing is good. But you still owe me a pretty big explanation.”

Oscar nods, taking a deep breath himself to steady his racing thoughts. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, and now that he’s actually faced with the situation, he realizes just how insane it’s going to sound.

“Okay, so, uh …” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to start. “I know this is going to sound really weird, but … you remember the cat? The one you were worried about?”

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you nod slowly. “Yeah …”

“Well,” Oscar continues, his voice trailing off for a moment before he forces himself to say it. “That was me. I mean, I was the cat.”

You blink at him, clearly trying to process what he just said. “Wait. You’re saying … you’re the cat? Like, you were the cat?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, wincing at how ridiculous it sounds out loud. “I’m, um, I’m a shifter. I can turn into a black cat. And I was the cat that you, uh, accidentally … kidnapped.”

You stare at him, your mouth hanging open as you try to wrap your head around this. “So, you’re telling me that the cat I’ve been feeding, the cat that I tried to take to the vet, was actually you? The whole time?”

Oscar nods sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I was just … curious, I guess. But then things got a little out of hand.”

You sit back on the bed, your mind clearly spinning as you try to reconcile the image of the cute, harmless black cat with the sight of Oscar Piastri — fully human and fully naked — in your bed. “This is … this is insane,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, I believe you, I guess. But it’s just … wow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Oscar says, offering a small, awkward smile. “It’s a lot to take in. And I’m really sorry for scaring you like that. I didn’t mean to shift back. It usually doesn’t happen unless I want it to, but I guess I must’ve just … relaxed too much.”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound. “Relaxed? You were relaxed enough to just shift back into a human? Wow, I must be really good company.”

Oscar chuckles nervously. “You have no idea.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both try to process everything. Then, you look back at him, your expression softening slightly. “So, you’re really … a shifter? Like, that’s a real thing?”

Oscar nods. “Yeah. I’ve been able to do it since I was a kid. It’s not something I talk about, obviously. It’s kind of a secret.”

“A big secret,” you say, your eyes wide. “I mean, it’s not every day you find out an F1 driver can turn into a cat.”

Oscar blushes at that, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that you’re taking this better than he expected. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something I advertise. And, uh, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us.”

You nod quickly, your expression earnest. “Of course. I wouldn’t tell anyone. I mean, who would believe me, anyway?”

Oscar lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you. Seriously. This whole thing … it’s complicated, and I don’t want to make things harder for myself or anyone else.”

You smile, a hint of playfulness returning to your eyes. “Well, I guess I’m the last person who’d have room to judge. I did kind of … try to get you neutered.”

Oscar laughs, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Yeah, that was … a close call.”

You shake your head, still looking slightly overwhelmed but more at ease now. “I’m sorry for that, by the way. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says, smiling. “I’m just glad I got out of there before it was too late.”

There’s another pause, the awkwardness slowly fading into something more comfortable. You glance over at the clock on your nightstand, and then back at him, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“So,” you say, a teasing edge in your voice. “What’s the plan now? Are you just going to stay here or …”

Oscar’s eyes widen as he remembers his current state of undress. “Oh, uh, right. I should probably … get dressed. Do you have, like, a blanket or something?”

You laugh, your initial shock giving way to amusement. “Yeah, hold on.” You reach over to the chair by the bed, grabbing the throw blanket draped over it and tossing it to him. “Here. Cover up before I have to start charging you for the show.”

Oscar catches the blanket, wrapping it around himself as best as he can. “Thanks. Sorry about that. Not exactly how I planned on spending my morning.”

You smile, still shaking your head in disbelief. “This is definitely the weirdest morning of my life.”

“Same here,” Oscar admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, uh, now that we’ve got that out of the way … do you maybe want to grab breakfast or something? With no canned tuna this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, the playful spark back in your eyes. “Breakfast? With a shifter who accidentally ended up naked in my bed? Sounds like the start of a weird romcom.”

Oscar grins, his nerves finally settling. “Yeah, maybe. But, I mean, the offer still stands. We could … talk more. Or not talk at all. Just … eat?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve always been more of a Ferrari girlie. But I guess I can make an exception this once.”

Oscar chuckles, his heart lightening at your teasing tone. “Well, I appreciate that. I’ll try not to hold it against you.”

You laugh, standing up and stretching, the tension finally draining from the room. “Okay, then. Breakfast it is. But you owe me a proper explanation over pancakes. I still have a lot of questions.”

“Deal,” Oscar says, standing as well, the blanket still wrapped around him. “And, uh, maybe I can borrow some clothes? Just until I get back to my place.”

You smirk, clearly amused by his predicament. “Sure. I think I have some sweatpants and a T-shirt that might fit you. They’re probably not papaya, though.”

Oscar laughs, feeling more at ease than he has in days. “That’s fine by me. I’m not picky.”

As you head off to find the clothes, Oscar takes a deep breath, letting the reality of the situation sink in. It’s definitely not how he expected this to go, but somehow, it feels right. Like maybe this bizarre turn of events was exactly what he needed.

And as he watches you rummage through your dresser, he can’t help but think that, for once, shifting back to his human form at the wrong time might have been the best mistake he’s ever made.

***

Oscar leaps onto the windowsill, his black fur sleek and gleaming in the afternoon light. He peers through the glass, watching you, seated at your desk, hunched over your textbooks. Your hair is pulled back, a pen held between your teeth as you jot down notes with a furrowed brow.

He feels a surge of affection watching you work so hard, but it’s mixed with a touch of mischief. He’s been patient all day, but now he’s had enough. It’s time for a study break, whether you want one or not.

With a graceful hop, he slips through the open window and lands silently on the floor. His tail flicks behind him as he pads softly toward you, his green eyes locked onto your focused expression. He almost feels guilty interrupting you — almost. But then again, it’s been hours since you last gave him any attention, and he’s starting to feel a bit neglected.

You don’t notice him at first, too engrossed in whatever academic puzzle you’re trying to solve. But Oscar is nothing if not persistent. He jumps onto your desk, landing squarely on your notebook, and lets out a soft, insistent meow.

Your head jerks up in surprise, your eyes widening as you take in the sight of him. “Oscar! You scared me!”

He purrs, rubbing his head against your arm, his way of saying, “Sorry, but you’ve been ignoring me.”

You sigh, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays your affection. “I’ve got a lot to do, you know. Finals are coming up.”

Oscar meows again, louder this time, before nudging your hand with his head. He can feel you wavering, your resolve crumbling as you reach out to scratch behind his ears. His purring deepens, vibrating through his small frame as he leans into your touch.

“You’re so spoiled,” you mutter, but there’s no real annoyance in your voice. “You know that, right?”

Oscar only purrs louder in response, nuzzling against your hand. He steps carefully onto your lap, circling once before settling down. You laugh softly, resigned, as you set your pen aside and lean back in your chair.

“Alright, alright. I guess I can take a break for a few minutes.”

He stretches out, making himself comfortable as you begin to pet him in earnest, your fingers trailing through his fur in long, slow strokes. It’s blissful, the way you touch him, the warmth of your hand against his back.

All thoughts of studying fade from your mind as you focus entirely on him, and Oscar relishes every second of it. This is what he’s wanted all day — to be close to you, to feel your affection without any distractions.

Minutes pass, and your strokes become slower, more languid. Oscar watches you through half-lidded eyes, sensing your fatigue. The stress of studying, of exams, is catching up with you, and he knows how much you’ve been pushing yourself lately. He nudges you with his head, encouraging you to relax even more, to let go of the tension that’s been building up.

You yawn, a deep, sleepy sound that makes him purr in satisfaction. “I think you’re a bad influence on me, Oscar,” you murmur, your voice drowsy. “I should be studying, but all I want to do is cuddle with you.”

Oscar’s purring doesn’t falter — if anything, it grows even more content. He watches as your eyelids grow heavier, your breathing slows, and your hand eventually stills against his fur. You’re falling asleep, lulled by the gentle rhythm of petting him and the comfort of his presence.

He stays perfectly still, letting you drift off completely. You deserve the rest, he thinks. You’ve been working so hard, and a little nap won’t hurt. Besides, he likes being the reason you’re able to relax like this, to forget about your worries for a while.

When he’s certain you’re fully asleep, Oscar carefully extracts himself from your lap, moving with the quiet grace of a cat. He pads over to the couch, glancing back to make sure you’re still sleeping soundly. Then, in one fluid motion, he shifts back into his human form.

Oscar sighs softly, standing by the couch for a moment as he stretches his arms over his head. It’s been a long day for him too — training, meetings, the usual demands of being a Formula 1 driver. But this is the part of his day he looks forward to the most: being with you, in this quiet, peaceful space that the two of you share.

He carefully lifts you from the chair, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to the couch. You stir slightly but don’t wake, your head resting against his chest as he settles you down on the cushions. Oscar smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he stretches out beside you, pulling you close.

He wraps an arm around you, your body fitting perfectly against his. There’s something indescribably comforting about holding you like this, feeling your warmth seep into him as you sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, closing his eyes as he allows himself to relax fully for the first time all day.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, entwined on the couch. Oscar can hear your steady breathing, feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it — the races, the pressure, the endless travel. None of it compares to this simple, quiet happiness.

As he holds you, Oscar’s thoughts drift. He thinks about how much his life has changed since that day you found him in your bed, how unexpected it all was. He hadn’t planned on letting anyone in, on sharing his secret with someone else. But you … you’ve become so much more than he ever anticipated.

You’re his confidant, his partner, his best friend. And though he’s still getting used to the idea, you’re also the person he’s fallen in love with, slowly and completely. It’s a realization that both scares and excites him, because he’s never had something — or someone — this important before. Racing has always been his focus, but now, you’re a part of his life that he can’t imagine being without.

As you sleep in his arms, Oscar tightens his hold on you, a protective instinct kicking in. He’ll do anything to keep you safe, to make sure you’re happy. And if that means taking any opportunity to spend more time with you, to be there for you when you need him, then that’s what he’ll do.

You murmur something in your sleep, your body shifting slightly against his. Oscar’s heart swells with affection, and he kisses your forehead again, a silent promise that he’ll always be here for you.

Outside, the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The world keeps turning, the demands of life waiting just outside the door. But for now, in this moment, there’s nothing else that matters. Just you, and him, and the quiet contentment of being together.

Oscar closes his eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over him. There will be time for everything else later. For now, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[shrimpybbq]

you gotta believe me, baby

synopsis: when a stray bag of coke is found in rafe’s drawer, rafe’s fiancée grapples with its implications

The young woman trifled through Rafe’s desk, the pen he requested lost deep amongst his amalgamation of items. Frustratingly, she kept searching until her gaze landed on a small item strewn under a notebook, the clear bag reflecting in the light. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating. The small bag and its contents were instantly recognisable to the woman, her having seen her fiancé with it many a time. Except instead of keeping it hidden under a book, he would have the white powder diced and sorted into hefty lines on a table, a rolled up $50 set aside ready to help him snort it.

She remained still for a moment before tentatively reaching for the bag, as if it would suddenly change its contents if she waited long enough. And yet, as she picked the bag up it felt like a long forgotten truth was slapping her in the face. Of course it was coke. The woman pondered the situation for a moment for she was sure Rafe was clean - but then again, he had been under an increasing amount of stress lately. Cameron Development had been taking up all of his time, as had the move, so would it really be that far-fetched for him to start using again?

Soon, she began pacing around the room, her mind beginning to catastrophise the situation. It had been so hard to get through each day when Rafe was high, his constantly shifting mood and irritable personality making him intolerable to be around. Her mind flashed to the moments alone, trying to soothe a colicky baby that cried and cried alone in the guest room while Rafe spent his evenings getting high with Barry. She'd never felt so alone and isolated. She had no-one: Her parent's were a no-go, Ward and Rose could only help so much, and Sarah was busy being a teenager. Sometimes, it was as if Wheezie was her only friend, always loving to play with her nephew even if only for a moment. In those moments, she had wondered if any of it was worth it - maybe everyone would be better off if she left to the mainland to live with her aunt, removing her presence from Kildare completely. Rafe hadn’t wanted Charlie in the beginning, not really, and as she cried alone in tandem with her son, she felt it.

Rafe had called out his fiancée’s name three times by now, only to receive nothing in response. Initially assuming she had been sidetracked, it was only once he finally ambled over to his study did he realise the true cause of her silence. Rafe froze at the sight of the bag of white powder flung haphazardly atop his papers, his heart racing as a chill spread across his body. Shit shit shit.

Rafe’s panicked gaze met hers suddenly, each expressing a multitude of worries. Rafe watched as his sweet girl looked at him, so defeated and dejected, her shoulders slumped as she faced him. Initial words began to leave her mouth, only to be swiftly cut off by her partner,

“Baby, please, you gotta let me explain, ok?” Rafe was pleading with her, a tone he rarely utilised unless in the most dire of situations, “it’s not mine.”

Her eyes, once shifted towards the window, snapped back to his frame. “It’s in your desk Rafe! Whose else would it be?”

“Fuck, uh- fuck ok, well it is mine, but it’s not like I bought it last week. Shit, that sounds bad, I didn’t-” Rafe sputtered, his logical explanation getting muddled up as his anxiety grew. He could tell his fiancée didn’t believe it if the tears beginning to escape were any indication.

“Rafe, please, just tell me the truth. You owe me that much,” she pleaded. Rafe felt his heart shatter at the desperation she could not hold back.

“I had this desk moved from my dad’s office, ok? Whenever he used to catch me doing coke, he would lock my supply up in his desk in his attempt to get me clean - not that that ever fuckin’ worked,” he began to explain, “I never even properly cleaned out his desk, baby. I figured he would have something written down that would provide some of his infinite wisdom bullshit that would help me in the future, so I just didn’t touch anything.”

The young woman stared at the Cameron opposite her, feeling rooted to her spot as he answered her questions. Truthfully, she remembered Rafe’s occasional complaining about his dad’s attempts to control his drug habit. She could never truly comfort him properly when she silently thanked Ward, but his statement rang true in her mind. It was plausible that Rafe really hadn’t touched his dad’s things.

“Come on baby, you have to believe me! You really think I would throw all of this,” Rafe gestured, arms outstretched, “us, our family - away for a few fuckin’ ounces of coke? I got better and that’s because of you, because of you being there for me and the kids and - baby please, I’m telling the truth.”

As Rafe begged and pleaded, he had made his way to stand in front of her, taking her hands in his as his fingers gripped hers tightly. She looked up at him, tears still spilling down her cheeks. He had gotten better - ever since they arrived in Guadeloupe, she hadn’t seen him touch cocaine. Alcohol, sure, but even Topper offering him coke at a party had seemingly rolled off his back.

“You’re not lying to me? You swear it? On the kids lives?” She begged, needing to hear him say it again. She wanted to believe him so badly.

“I promise baby, I swear to god. I swear that I haven’t touched that shit in a year. Please, I’m telling the truth baby.”

With his final plea, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow, its return to normal allowing her to breathe properly once more. A large exhale left her body before she flung herself against Rafe, her arms wrapping around his torso. His arms immediately returned the gesture, comfortingly rubbing up and down her back.

“I can’t do that shit again, Rafe. Ok?” She muttered, her voice muffled against his shirt. He leaned down to gently stroke her hair before placing a tender kiss in her hair.

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’m different now, for you and for our family. You can rely on me, ok? I’m always gonna be here for you,” Rafe stated firmly, his words filled with conviction. He felt a small smile tug at his lips as his fiancée nodded into his chest, her arms tightening around him further.

“I love you, Rafe. More than anything.”

“I love you too, baby. It’s you and me ‘till the end.”

As the pair stood in their embrace for a moment longer, they felt the tension seep away slowly and be replaced with tenderness. For such a rocky start to a relationship, the pair had watched each other grow and mature. Neither of them were perfect, but they would never give up on each other. Rafe didn’t believe in soulmates, but if he did, he was certain that the woman in his arms was his.

[girrl1nterrupted]

try me

teasing billie around her family until she snaps ;)

PART ONE‼️- just teasing in this part fr

--------

"billie doesn't even like that show", finneas laughed hitting her knee. you were over at her house for a family gathering and was standing opposite her, leaning against the wall. she was sat, man spreading in her baggy shorts and oversized black jersey. her multicoloured cap shadowed her face but revealed enough to see her playfully glare at her brother. she was wedged between Claudia and finneas laughing in unison with them.

"shut up, I watched it before you did", she rolled her eyes. "oh yeah dude, totally", he replied reaching for his drink. the way she was sitting was driving you crazy. she was so hot. you were lost in your thoughts, eyes wandering up and down her body, thinking of how badly you wanted to be on top of her right now. it wasnt until they all called your name simultaneously that you snapped out of it.

"oh uh, what was that?", your cheeks flush as if they were reading your mind. your filthy thoughts. you started fanning yourself with the collar of your tshirt, swallowing hard. you didnt want to look at billie, you knew a second of eye contact and your knees would give out. still, you couldn't help yourself. you locked eyes with her. fuck. wrong move. she was staring at you, eyes low, biting her raw lips as her hand moved slowly along her thigh. to everyone else, this was normal. to you, you were going insane. that deep stare of hers causing your breath to catch in your throat.

"y-yeah I agree?", your voice cracking slightly as you held her line of sight. the others laughed, including her parents who were sitting on the sofa next to them. they all continued talking, claudia sometimes hitting billies arm when they were joking. except you. you were focused on her. the way her hair fell so effortlessly, her piercing blue eyes, the definition in her face when she spoke or laughed. you wanted her so bad. thank god you were wearing black jeans or, you could've sworn you'd have visible leak marks. why did she turn you on so much by doing so little? little to nothing and you were a mess.

why not have some fun with her?

you approached the table in front of them, kneeling down. "why dont we play uno?", you suggested causing Claudia and finneas to get up and find the cards. their parents were now in the kitchen preparing dinner. taking this as an opportunity, you sat next to her, softly resting your hand on her thigh. you knew what this did to her, anytime your hand touched anywhere, really, she would get riled up. rubbing it slowly, you stared at her. "hey, pretty girl", she said smiling. god, her voice was not helping. you didnt respond, instead leaned your head close to her neck. you felt and watched her breathing get ragged. your lips brushed her throat, moving them to her ear. your hand ran along her arm, squeeing her bicep and smirking knowing she was flexing. "giving me a feel?", you whispered teasingly down her ear.

a soft moan left her lips. "what are you doing?", she replied almost out of breath. "I want you so bad right now", you replied. bilie pushed you back, revealing the desire that swarmed her pupils. her hand gripped your shoulder hard as her fingers began twisting your top. you watched as she sunk her teeth into her lip, bucking her hips up readjusting herself. for a second, you thought she was going to take you right there but, the sounds of the others came into focus, realising youd drowned them out.

"stop", she groaned just as finneas opened the door. you sat up, acting as if nothing happened. the 4 of you began playing with tense, playful arguments filling the room. although you were around people, you kept teasing her. rubbing her arm, putting your hand over hers when playing your cards, letting out moans disguised as frustration. they weren't. billie knew that. every time, she'd shoot you a pained look. a look telling you she was close to breaking. your hand snaked along her thigh, eyes locking in an inviting gaze. it was thrilling.

"getting hot in here, isn't it bils?", you said taking your top off. you had on a crop top underneath, nothing too crazy but to her, it was enough. as if she couldnt control it, you heard a quiet "fuck", come from her, just loud enough for you to hear. finneas agreed opening the window and you couldn't help the tingling from increasing between your thighs at how your girlfriend was reacting. suddenly, a warm, tight grip came around your waist. "lets play as doubles now, yeah?", billies voice surprisingly calm.

"you guys play, im gonna go to the bathroom", you replied to the group, setting your cards down. you stood looking at yourself in the mirror, splashing cold water on your face. you were definitely just as turned on as she was. you were wondering how no-one else picked up on what was going on, you couldve cut the tension with a knife. as you dried your face, you heard the door open and close. looking up, you saw her. face flush, eyes burning with lust, jaw clenched.

you were finally going to get what you wanted.

[onlymingyus]

Unconditional (Patreon Exclusive Bonus)

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f reader

genre; smut (minor dni), fluff

summary; She deservеs to be loved with no limit out loud. This thing, we got's, that's unconditional.

content warnings; sugar daddy!wonwoo, sugar baby!reader, simp!wonwoo, they are so incredibly in love it's sickening, alludes to marriage

smut warnings; slight dom!wonwoo, very slight dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, cockwarming, taking during sex photos to keep/use, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, petnames, mentions of aftercare

w/c; 4.9k and some change (417 this teaser)

unconditional - jaeyhun

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading 🩷 and suggesting I write a little drabble for my Peaches. I hope you guys like it. I am still working on TKG so this is just a little something something while I do.

this fic is a Patreon exclusive bonus drabble -- to read this drabble subscribe to my Patreon and click here

With a shopping bag hanging from his fingers, Wonwoo pulls the keycard from his jacket as a smirk pulls at his lips. It had been too long since he had seen you. He could count down the time to the very minute if he really wanted to, but the moment the suite door opens and your sweet perfume hits his nose, every logical thought is lost. 

You had woken up to the plane tickets waiting in your email and a single text message from your boyfriend. 

Wonwoo💗: Get your pretty ass on that plane, baby 

After an eight-hour first-class flight, you found yourself pouting when Wonwoo wasn’t the first face you saw waiting for you. You knew he was a busy man; that was why you found yourself being flown around the country and sometimes around the world for even just a night in his arms, but even the two dozen roses that now lay on the dresser of your suite hadn’t made up for his absence just yet. 

Following the scent of honey, Wonwoo grins as he leans against the wall, letting his eyes move over your body as you rest on your stomach on the oversized bed. You hadn’t been there long, but it was still too long without you being in his arms. You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever met, and the moment he saw you for the first time, he knew that you were going to be his. 

Crossing your ankles, you run a well-manicured finger over the screen of your phone as a pout plays on your lips. You thought Wonwoo would have finished his day by now. He was the one who had flown you out here, and now he was making you lay in some hotel, no matter how nice it was, without him. It was torture. That was until you felt fingers run along your calf and heard his breathy chuckle turn into a deep groan at the feel of your skin under his hand. 

“And I thought you’d change and get comfortable, sweetheart.” 

Wonwoo grins when you drop your phone and start to turn over, only to whine when his hand keeps you in place. 

“Please, Wonwoo… It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. This isn’t fair.” 

“It’s not?” Dropping the bag next to his feet, Wonwoo uncrosses your ankles before carefully unclasping your shoe, finally letting you lean on your side so you can watch him. “I’m sorry, baby girl. Have I neglected you?” 

READ THE ENTIRE DRABBLE

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[royaltea000]

YO! Being a drawing, what’s there to be afraid of!

[strab3rr]

(long story and no short sorry) GUYSSS I DID ITT

I INDUCED IT!!!!! I WAS PURE AS A FUCKING BABY

IDK WHAT TO SAY (ok enough w capslock)

i have so much to say and not a thing at da same time idk how

anyway i want to begin with thanking you @b4ddprincess bc youre the reason i realized why i started this thing. thank you for making my life better and make me realized what i need to do: nothing. (its same for you guys, all u have to do is nothing)

two fuckn years ago i said to myself that i need a better life, quiter life, less fight with everthing bc everything was so loud and not clear i was feeling lost like a child in the market, and i wanted to make things better for myself in every way, but the main idea of my reasons to wanting to get in the void was: making anxiety go and having better people in my life. but the ''voidlist'' just never stopped bc im kinda greedy(having the idea of controling on your life, the idea of that power makes you greedy. yes thats a thing) anyway the more i add to the list the more i feel like im movin away from my desires then i feel depressed bc ive overcomplicating it bc theres so many things to do but i dont do anything so nothing happend bc i was waiting to be someth happen. and then i started doing awkwardly silly things such as: void routines and challenges and (im embarrassed of this one bc i was too desperate) drinking water

youve read it correct drinking water.

i was sooo desperate for having those things id do anything to get them.

i am simple. i want what everyone wants🎀🎀🎀: shifting realities bc i have so many crush and i need them to be crush me in bed(for 2020 girlies)

being an academic weapon is so easy for me🎀(bc of the urge to make my family proud) +dream collage

being the girl that everyone gets along w(basic needs)

being the girl who is pretty not cute(trauma response)

glowing aura(cats loves people w glowing aura yes thats a thing too)

dream body n hair(bc i deserve this🎀)

healthy (girlyfriend)friends(basic needs)

and of course him, my sp(i cant tell wich one at that time but i releived that its not him now, bc MY BELOVED CURRENT BF. guyss he is the one. dont u dare ask me how you know? i literally manifested him🎀)

then i realized i can have everything bc its my reality so why not add these:

new phone, +macbook air

dream apartment of my own

pinterest closet

lifa app for this reality

financially free-money(a lot. like really a lot)

knowing 4 languages like a native person(bc i want to be diplomat so bad) +sign language(its in general)

a little drama(its not gonna hurt anybody)

my parents being more lovable and away from me

every time i try to get in, either i was failing or falling

and im sick of it, sick of it so much i quit.(for a year)

then i go to the theraphy(ofc no im jk ilove being crazy)

one day i saw a post ss from tumblr about pure consciousness on pinterest and i was like whaat is thiiss. no mention of void so i thougt its a diffrent thing and i download the tumblr again and search everything abt it. and same excitement again after one year same thougts and same list popes up in my head. and i was like ok maybe this time itll happen.

still waiting to be someth happen so nothing happend, it was such a waste of time trying to get in while i was already be, i was already what i want to become. i was that girl that everyone gets along with but i couldnt even see bc i was too focused on wanting to be. but still tried every night and failed. and again tried-failed-quit circle bc.. have you ever met me🎀

4 month ago i saw the girl, iconic blogger and the goddess of my dreams, her @b4ddprincess thx again love u so much

a post pops in my fyp and i see the words ''pure consciousness'' i was like noo not again. and i was serious abt it i wasnt gonna read the whole thing but it attract me n i couldnt resist it so ive read it from the top to the bottom. and she got my interest so i stalked her page from the last and to the first post. it was quiet a beautiful journey for me. lasted like 3 days, the end of the 3rd day i was ''woaw it was this easy all along? u cant be serious.'' she was. i tried one last time, no breathing exercise, no ridiculous routines and no waiting something to be happen. it was just me being real me chilling out asf.

and it was this easy and it should be this easy bc being your 4d self is being nothing also being everything at the same time. if u wanna be everything you should be nothing first(as wizardliz saying: drop the old story, leave the victimhood, for being better stop being bitter etc.)u should make a space for everything first and then u can be everything.

for being 4d self of yours stop being your3dself.

sooo long story (no)short i am writing this from my mac in my new apartment(in middle of the night bc i couldnt sleep and then one tumblr notification reminded me i have a success story to share too) and my phone buzzing two minutes a time bc of my friends while im writing this, so if theres anything wrong ignore it pls.

oh u asking my bf how cute, hes sleepin in my bed now, exhausted from the work n school balance.

YWS SCHOOL!! im in my dream collage and im going to be in paris for a week. i deserve a vacation i guess(its for another conference), i kinda hate french men bc theyre so mansplaning(not like how i imagined, its hard to be friends w them)girls are cute but i feel like theyre aware im not permanent there so we just con buddies still cute and hepful for this foreigner.

and i canceled the lifa app thingy bc i can be my purest consciousness anytime i want, so i am my lifa app.

and thx to 4 languages i make a lot of money and that brings us to the pinterest closet, yesterday i realiased that. theyre not comes to me w an imaginary way like i imagined! i go outside for shopping casually and theyre there luckily i have enough money to buy them.

and my family theyre living in our hometown now so as i want it to be, we are away from eachother.

and the most magical thing: SHIFTING REALITIESSS

i did 5 world before i met w my bf. it was such a wonderful experience. if you have doubts abt shifting you can go fuck urself

because sir i did it and i am very sure that dean winchester being my husband is not a daydream, fantasy nor lucid dreaming. believe it or not he kissed me GOD HE KİSSED ME(someone should stop me i have a bf)

is there anything i missed let me see.. cats i have 2 cats now and theyre adorable. glowing aura-check

the girl who is pretty not cute- check +make anxietygo-checkcheckcheck

dream body and hair- check and check

i wanna give u a info i didnt have all my desires by being my4dself

not directly actually. but i have them all. and thats the point.

im not trying to be a blogger but if you have any question abt anything, id be happy to help

now i need to upgrade things in my farm byeess

loves, siena.

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘, 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 1.8k words puppy boy hybrid x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags hybrid puppy, breeding kink, knotting, master kink, humping

—📜" As much as you wish that owning a pup is easy, it’s not. You’re going to end up with a headache, missing clothes, and an aching hole at the end of the day. His rut is approaching and—oh dear, this is going to be bad.

When people tell you to get a pup, they don't tell you about the horrid responsibilities you have to go through. 

It's always: 'They're such sweet things! You will always feel loved', 'Very loyal boys and girls', 'It's always going to be a joy around the house', and 'You have to be prepared to give them a lot of love. Ha. Ha. Ha.'

They don't tell you about the burden of actually having a pup.

"Fucking—Atlas! Drop that right now!"

Atlas, your newest pup, is bigger than your average pup. He's also a lot more handful than you imagined. A German Shepherd hybrid is often rare to come across in normal companion shops. Most are already taken by some older chap who wants some protection.

This one appeared at your doorstep. Now, he's currently running around your house with your socks in his mouth.

You groan, almost unable to keep up with him, "What is with you? Why're you so goddamn hyper?"

He tries to say something, though his words are muffled by the pair in his mouth. His tail wags behind him enthusiastically as you continue to miss him when you attempt a tackle.

Fastening out the living room, you try to keep up. "Atlas! Down boy!" He ignores you as he keeps manoeuvring inside your house. He ends up in the storage room, and you corner him there.

When you expect him to cower with nowhere to go, something else catches your attention. Atlas is rushing towards the corner behind some boxes. You peer; he has his old mattress covered in a cloud of your clothes.

"Fucking hell, Atlas," you sigh, "what is this?"

He looks at you like he has nothing to say. "What is what?"

"This? I thought I lost my sweatshirt, but—god, your fur is all over my pants!"

An unbothered look is plastered on his face. He sits on the pile of clothes happily before you start pulling them away.

Rushing, he goes after your cruel hand to take away your clothes. "Hey! That's mine!"

"No, it's not," you snatch your fucking underwear from the pile, "this is all mine, and I'm putting them all in the laundry."

"But what am I supposed to do if you're gone~?" he falls to his back and rolls around. His arms spread to cover all the clothes he could. He's too protective of your dirty clothes and you need to take them away now.

"Guard the house," you say. You kneel down on the mattress, tugging for the shirts. "Seriously, I would guess you're a retriever if I didn't see your papers."

He huffs. "Don't compare me with those sons of bitches." Atlas sits up, defeated. All of his work disappears into your arms. "I'm way better than all of them."

"Yeah, yeah." You need to come back to get the rest. With a grunt, you stand up and take them to the laundry room.

An extra pair of steps follows you there. Surprisingly, you turn to see that he's carrying the leftover clothes. "How nice of you to help for once," you say. "Just separate the whites, okay?"

The two of you fix your laundry. His tail sits low between his legs, a shy blush accompanying his downward ears. He's looking at your clothes like it's his arm—taken away forcefully by some evil monster. Which is you, by the way.

Overcome by his puppy looks, you throw a sweater in his direction. "Keep it," you say, "but if you take any more, I'm making you sleep outside."

He yips excitedly, cuddling the sweater by his chest as he's come alive again. That fucking easy to make this silly pup happy.

"Thank you so much~!" he giggles as he hugs you from behind. Seriously, is he a retriever? Atlas embraces you tight, pulling your body as close as possible to rid the distance between you.

You ignore him as you put your underwear away. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome, pup."

"My master is the best," he cooes, head nuzzling to your neck. His ears tickles.

Pulling away is impossible. He tightens his grip as he moves the both of you back and forth. "Absolutely the best," he says, his tongue licking under your ear and to your nape.

Suddenly, his innocent movements are not so innocent anymore.

"Y-yeah. Just let me down, Atlas." His embrace starts to become little humps. "Atlas!"

"Master," he breathes out, teeth feathering over your skin. "A-ah… I love Master's scent so bad," he giggles, loopy.

"Good for you, Atlas," with a rough hand, you attempt to pull away. It ends with him whining and pinning you down to the washing machine. "Fucking hell, Atlas..!"

For a fact, you know that his rut is nowhere near. You were planning to neuter him for your safety, and now he's grinding needily on your clothed cheeks. You struggle against his strength. All he does is disapprove of your rejections.

When he growls, it's your time to scold him. "Atlas," you harden your tone, "fix your attitude."

A pained whimper leaves him. Immediately, he backs away. Turning around, you can see his hardon through his shorts.

"S-sorry," he says, pulling down his shirt to try to have some decency. "Master, I'm just really happy to have something of yours. I'm getting really excited."

You can tell. "Yeah, but I'm busy doing laundry right now. Now I got more clothes to wash because of you. See my dilemma?"

For a split second, you can see his cock twitch in his trousers. You sigh. "Sorry," he says, "Can I… fuck, can I just maybe hump you? Please, Master? I'll be so careful."

One thing that they were right about pup boys is that they're needy. And that they're good at giving you those stupid puppy eyes everyone is irresistible to. You feel yourself giving into his whims.

"Fine," you say. His eyes light up like fireworks. "Don't get too carried away. I'm still sore from last night."

Last night: getting stuck on his knot for an hour before having to calm him down when you pull away.

Atlas is back to his excited self as he mounts you from behind. Thankfully, you've placed most of your clothes back in the machines now. He pulls down your shorts, spitting on his hand as he rubs your hole—Jesus.

"Be careful," you hiss, gripping the ends of the washing machine. "Seriously, I'm sore.

"Don't worry," he smiles. "I'll take care of my Master~"

Red rises to your face. Somehow, he makes the simplest thing sound so sexual. You try not to let it sink in but he keeps mumbling your name as he fingers you open.

"So open for me, Master," he moans, rubbing your insides and scissoring you open. He's breathing into your neck and his cock is pressed against your thighs.

The height difference between the two of you is making the angle a bit awkward. He pulls you up so one of your knees lays on top of the vibrating top of the laundry machine. He's breathing hard, turned on just watching your hole clench around his fingers.

A breathy laugh leaves him. "Mmph… I'm sorry, Master. I need to be inside you now—"

"Wait!"

You're not sure when he undressed himself. But he has a leg up as he fucks his cock inside of you. A guttural moan leaves you, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch. Though your body remembers his shape, you're still too sensitive for this.

"Master," he moans, panting as his tongue tickles your neck. "S-so good… You feel so good around me, Master. I wish you could feel it~!"

He puts both of your hands on your stomach, making you feel the little bulge in your stomach. His long pup cock is thick, reaching deep inside of you with the base of his knot already forming. He's too excited and you're sure he's in his rut.

Atlas fucks his cock deep inside of you. He tries to slow his movements as much as possible. Yet, you can feel him whimper and whine as he struggles to keep a tame pace. His mouth is dropped open as he pushes his cock as deep as possible—he has a need to imprint inside of you.

"Atlas," you breathe out, clenching around him. "Just fuck me already, pup. Breed me with your big fat knot."

Your words are immediate. If you could look back, you would see his ears perk up and his tail wag excitedly. Taking your word, he ruts inside of you as if his goal is to put a baby inside of you.

"Yes! Th-… thank you, Master!" he moans, hips slapping lewdly against your ass. "So fucking good, Master. I love it—hahh… I love your sloppy hole so much. S-sucking me in like you want to be bred by me~"

He's manic as he puts a hand on your hips. "So good, so good, so good, so~… good!"

You want to lay your head down. Each thrust hits you deep inside; it rubs against your sweet spot. You feel yourself go crazy as he doesn't care for your own pleasure. He's chasing his own climax, and it makes you clench around him in desperation.

"Maste-e-e-r," he drags out, burying his head in between your head and your neck. "Puppy wants to breed master so bad. Wanna—wanna see you round with puppy's seed. S-so good."

"Breed me, pup," you cry, whining as he's basically only grinding inside of you. You can feel his knot start to attempt to push in. "Get inside of me, pup. Let me have your seed."

"Ah, ah, ah~!" He screams as his knot spreads open your hole—it pushes inside and he's quivering. Your oversensitive hole is being stretched to its last extent. You can barely feel your legs as he's grinding his knot inside.

"So good," he moans. You can feel drool going down your shoulders. "M-master… I'm gonna cum. 'm gonna cum. Puppy's gonna cum inside ofMaster. Gonna-gonna fucking breed Masta-haaah..!"

Waves of his hot cum surges inside you. He's holding you tight; attempting to fill you to the brim, he doesn't let you leave his knot. You're left hanging there to take all of him. When he thrusts inside of you unexpectedly, you can't help the spurt of cum that comes out of you.

He feels you tighten more and groans. "S-so tight," he whines, wiggling his lips as if that would help. "Mmph. Master, you're so nice."

If you were in a better mindset, you would be criticising him. Saying that your compliance is his fault. Instead, you just lay there and take it.

A few minutes in, the haze leaves you and realisation punches you. "You little shit, your knot is gonna be in me for an hour!"

"…I think I'm going into rut, Master. I'll- er… I'll maybe last an hour or more."

"Atlas!"

Owning a pup boy is way too much work. You briefly consider giving him away to some adoption centre. Though he's too attached now, and you might find him back at your doorstep.

UPDATE ! 📢 @wiltedpoison @elloredef @alureasoley

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ shu_TMX

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a black cat girl

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fighting ig, idrk

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have had this request for like fifteen months lol but im finally doing it for my pookie's bday. Happy birthday ml 🫶 im posting it now so i dont forget lol

❀ he hates you at first sorry not sorry. bakugo just sees you as yet another one of those extras who happen to have an annoying tendency to fight with him. i feel like he might respect your tenacity but barely and he still hates your guts whoops

❀ on the topic of hatred, your other classmates half are jokingly shipping you and the other half are just wishing you two would stop fighting. mina is at the head of the shipping bandwagon especially after she read a book with rivals to lovers. todoroki might say he ships you guys only because he thinks it means he wants you two to get along lol

❀ your arguments would mostly be stupid shit like who rescued who, who did better on the assignment. you guys are rivals who also get into fistfights because why not.

❀ bakugo doesn't think much of your swearing problem because he's used to it by his mom. you're just another annoying person who happens to like using some naughty words all the time (him in girl form)

❀ i feel like the way you two get closer is kinda sad but also drama yay. basically mineta was being an S-class pervert and he was literally harassing you.

❀ and it made you uncomfortable so you started to fight back. bakugo doesn't find you until the aftermath, huddled in the corner of the dorm while trying to hide your tears

❀ he didn't know seeing someone cry could make his heart clench like that. But for some reason, seeing you all teary eyed and sad made him want to punch the living daylights out of whoever made you like that

❀ as awkwardly as he can, he tries to comfort you. His large hand patting your back, not saying anything since words have never been his forte. He was used to using anger to battle his sadness, he didn't know how to help someone succumb to it.

❀ you guys sit there in comfortable silence until you explain to bakugo what happened. he'd always hated the little brat but now he was wishing he had uraraka's powers so he could throw mineta into space. how was the creep still in the hero course?

❀ lets just say the nice day mineta looked more like a cranberry than a grape

❀ you guys aren't particularly close after that but he does tend to notice you more which means his respect for you goes up. you're in combat training and you beat deku? fuck yeah he likes you now. even if you don't hate deku like he does he still thought it was awesome seeing you beat the daylights out of him.

❀ the moment he realized he liked you was when he almost lost you. by now hanging out was pretty regular for the two of you, even if bakugo would rather die than admit that he sees you as a friend. and since you guys spent time together he was around for whenever you got crushes...and told him about it.

❀ most of the time he would shrug it off, especially since half of your crushes were fictional and why would he care? he's not jealous! however you started falling for a boy in class 2b which (for some reason) was a major no go for bakugo. why would you want to date a stupid extra when he was right in front of you

❀ despite what everyone says he isn't the most emotionally constipated. it takes awhile yeah but i imagine he started going to therapy during the course of the show so he started to understand what feelings went where and etc

and one thing was for certain: this feeling was love.

❀ he started being a massive asshole after that. he went right back to always arguing with you or ignoring you completely. he might understand his feelings but that doesn't mean he knows how to handle them

❀ he was so wrapped up in his angry emoness that he didn't know you had stopped talking to the boy from class 2b, forgetting him entirely. he also failed to notice the hurt looks you'd give bakugo before you snapped right back into your harsh comebacks.

❀ the reason you guys even talk it out is during a simulation where the both of you get stuck inside rubble. you were both exhausted, dehydrated, and heartbroken.

❀ you just couldn't help but ask, "why do you hate me?" which basically broke his heart into a million little pieces. he couldn't help the way he admitted to his feelings, the way he handed you his heart in hopes you'd keep it safe...and safe you did.

❀ if you two as rivals were bad you two dating is even worse. you guys are the ultimate power couple, able to tear anybody down with a few well placed sneers and snorts.

❀ everybody either loves or hates you guys. mina obviously loves you guys even if you two are constantly arguing still plus with the added of you two tag teaming one person. she loves when she manifests things.

❀ you guys still have that silly banter and with your tempers. but now you guys made up your arguments with kisses and cuddles

❀ you guys aren't allowed to get paired together for assignments because you are either bickering or making out. and aizawa is too tired to try to stop it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[h3rmess]

SL*T ME OUT

Written by @h3rmess ✰ | KINKTOBER (late entry)

"eat the d*** like you was ugly" ☆

After the U-20 match, oliver and the others decide to go out and have some fun. They go to a karaoke booth to let loose and forget about their loss. Oliver wants you to help him blow off some steam in a different way...

notes : this was meant to be for kinktober but I forgot to upload... I love aiku so so much!! I literally started screaming when I saw him in episode 5

WARNINGS : oliver aiku x fem!reader, oral (m receiving), facefucking, masturbation (f), picture taking, semi-public oral sex???, pet names, praise, swearing, no relationship (that's how aiku is ☹️)

"Where is he?" You whispered, holding your phone in your hand as you walked away from the arcade, into the area where the karaoke booths were.

You kept checking your phone in case a text from him magically appeared, hoping that he would come to save you from this bewilderment.

"Wow, look at that!" A low, husky voice spoke from behind you, forcing you to turn around abruptly.

Hands in the pockets of his kit and leaning against the wall, he offered you an irresistible smirk that made your heart race.

"Really went all out for me, huh?" He commented, observing the short, body-con dress you wore. In this setting, you looked like you belonged in a club.

He took a step towards you, standing up properly once more as he towered over you, your chin lifted behind comfort to meet his gaze.

"Oliver!" You exclaimed with a smile. "How was the match? I didn't get time to check the end results."

He rubbed the back of his neck with a solemn sigh, "We lost..."

Your expression displayed remorse as you pulled him into a hug. "You played amazingly, though. I was so proud to see you on the screen. You were definitely remarkable." You spoke, recalling his outstanding plays.

"Hmm, yeah... I'm still super bummed though. I thought we were gonna win." He pouted as he looked away.

"You seem pretty upset..." You spoke softly.

"I am. That's why I wanted to see you." He looked back at you slowly.

"Huh?"

"Y'know, I've been so stressed lately. I've had way too much practice and not enough time to...unwind." He tried to mask his smirk with a sombre look, but you saw through it.

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?" You questioned, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"Well, you're here, all pretty and dolled up. Let's not let it go to waste." He looked at you, his eyes predatory.

"What are you suggesting we do?" You prompted, your heart rate increasing as you became more nervous. Your palms began to excrete sweat as he leaned in closer to you.

"How about we ruin that makeup of yours, huh?" He grinned, his hands suddenly groping your waist.

"And how exactly... do you plan on doing that?" You felt breathless as you huffed out a response.

"Acting dumb are we now, baby? Why don't I fuck that mouth of yours so we don't have any more stupid responses?" His straightforward suggestion left your stomach tumbling, a new pulse being formed in your womanhood.

You were lost for words as he took you by your arm and dragged you into the booth, shutting the door.

"I told the others to get here in 30 minutes. That should be enough time." He sat down, looking up at you with a stern glance.

"Whatcha waiting for? On your knees." He commanded as you complied immediately, his voice forcing you into submission.

"That's a good girl..." He smiled as he stroked your face. You nuzzled into his touch, his huge hands bringing you comfort. He brushed his thumb carefully over your lips, slightly smearing the pink, shimmery gloss on them. You sat patiently on your knees, waiting for his next move.

Looking up with lusful eyes, you let his thumb slip into your mouth. Your face heated up slightly with embarrassment as you tried your best to maintain eye contact.

He removed his thumb from your mouth and lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his once more. He let go, his hands reaching for his waistband. He lowered his slacks slightly, allowing him to slip himself out of his confinement.

His dick hit his abdomen instantly as he hissed, clearly needy as the pre-cum dripped down his swollen tip.

His hand gripped his member carefully as he pumped his length for a while, his breath becoming heavier by the second.

Your cheek was hit with a slap from his dick as he smirked down at you, infatuated by the size difference. You both wondered how you were meant to fit all of him in your mouth.

"Open up, doll." He commanded, his tip nearing your mouth. You followed his order, immediately being met by the bitter yet intoxicating taste of his arousal.

Your jaw slackened to accommodate his size, which was proving quite difficult.

Gripping your hair gently, he pushed your head forward, your face nearing his base. Tears began to form in your eyes as you gagged and choked slightly, overwhelmed by his huge size.

He pushed himself fully into your mouth with a grunt, his inability to hold back becoming clear.

"Fuck..." He said with clenched teeth. "Taking me so well, aren't ya? Putting that... ah- pretty mouth to good use, huh?" His thrusts started to hit deeper, increasing in speed. His words and actions did nothing but add fuel to the fire, igniting a feeling in you that you couldn't resist giving into.

Saliva leaked from the corners of your mouth as you choked around him, his thrusts relentless. You noticed some of your lip gloss on his base, which somehow turned you on even more.

His grunts and moans became more frequent as his pumped into your warm mouth even harder, throwing his head back slightly.

"Fuck...'m so close, baby... Gonna be a doll and take it? Gonna swallow everything I give to you?" He questioned, maintaining eye contact the entire time. You hummed around his cock, your hand reaching into your panties to gain some relief as your clit throbbed.

Your mind became hazy as you stopped thinking, completely submitting to Oliver and your growing lust. Your pussy was leaking. You dragged some of your arousal from your empty hole to your clit, rubbing it at a pace that instantly caused you to start moaning.

Oliver chuckled and then threw his head back, your vibrations sending him closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your head became more firm, his thrusts hitting deeper than ever before.

"Mmm, baby, I'm gonna- fuckkk..." He could barely form a sentence which made you laugh when you thought back to this moment ; not that you would've done any better.

You never stopped stimulating your nerves. You felt a warmth building as your stomach felt knotted. You kept playing with yourself as he used your mouth.

"Keep touching your little pussy... just like that." He forced out, speaking to you proving difficult as he almost reached his high.

You looked up at him, your makeup smeared, your eyes teary and lidded. That was all it took. His thrusts became sloppy as he let loose, his head thrown all the way back, moans escaping him like never before.

His liquid poured into your mouth, sitting on your tongue, filling you up. He came a lot. His thrusts continued for a while as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"Don't swallow yet, princess."

You blindly obliged.

"Can I take a picture? You look so pretty like this."

And for some bizarre reason, those were the words that made you cum. You nodded, holding him and his juices in your mouth as you shook, your eyes rolling back slightly. You whined and whimpered as you saw a bright flash come from Oliver's phone. Your vision was blurry, obscured by tears as you stopped your relentless torture on your pussy.

You tried to calm your breathing as Oliver spoke.

"Open your mouth."

You did as he said, watching him posting his phone to take another picture. His dick was still in your mouth. After taking the picture, he removed his half-hard dick from your opening.

"I'm gonna take a video now, okay?" You hummed in response.

He pressed record, his hand reaching down to grip your cheeks, squishing them in a way that forced your mouth open. You whimpered slightly at his sudden movement.

"Look at how pretty she is." He spoke, the camera focusing on your eye makeup that was far beyond saving.

"Holding my cum in her mouth just like I asked her to." He grinned down at you.

"Swallow it." He commanded, the camera still rolling. You closed your mouth to swallow with a gulp, reopening it to prove you had done as he asked.

"Such a good girl..." He let go of your face, grabbing his dick once more.

"Lick it clean for me, doll."

You immediately started licking, as if you were hungry for it.

His phone remained in your face, but at this point, you didn't care.

Your tongue made its way along his length, being sure to capture any left over cum on it. You stuck your tongue out, moving it up to his tip as you looked straight into the camera.

"Fuck... don't do that. You're gonna make me hard again." His dick twitched slightly.

And yet, you continued until all of his mess was cleaned up, letting go of his dick that was now almost fully hard again.

He stopped recording.

"I'm gonna get you back for this... Just you wait." He remarked.

You smiled at him as he helped you up onto your feet again.

"You'd better go home. I mean, unless you want anyone seeing you in this state. " He suggested. Typical of him.

You reached into your handbag, pulling out some make-up wipes to clean the mess he had left your face in.

Meanwhile, Oliver unlocked his phone, a notification appearing, telling him that the boys were outside.

"Shit, they're here." He panicked slightly as you finished up, turning towards him.

He placed a short kiss on your lips. "See you soon, beautiful. I'll be messaging you, so don't you dare turn off your phone, got that?"

"Okay. Bye, Oliver." You waved, leaving before his teammates could make it into the booth.

Oliver Aiku was such a dog... and yet, you couldn't help but come back for more.

[wanderingelvis]

just thinking about what elvis would be like with you if you had a stutter or a stammer.

he’d be so patient with you, not everyone is, they get easily frustrated and fed up that you can’t get your words out properly but not elvis. he lets you take your time and it’s almost even more intimidating that someone is waiting for you to finish speaking.

but he won’t just say encouraging words to you, he’ll gently trace soothing circles into the small of your back. kiss your knuckles after rubbing them with the pad of his thumb, playing with the loose strands of your hair as he tells you “s’okay honey, y’doin’ just fine baby.” when you look to him desperately for comfort and reassurance.

he knows your prone to shutting up altogether when the nerves get the better of you but he loves nothing more than coaxing those thoughts out of you.

you’ll feel your mouth go dry as you try to manage a coherent sentence, getting all worked up and upset when you can’t do it but he never makes you feel bad for it.

you’ll sniffle through tears as elvis lovingly holds your hands and speaks to you softly but firmly, telling you that, “now, there ain’t nothin’ you gotta be upset about baby, you’re tryin’ your best ain’t you darlin’? hm? now i’m real proud of ya, tryin’ y’best like that, there aint no need for those tears now princess.”

and then he’ll let you collapse into his big hold, his arms engulfing you as he presses tender kisses to the top of your head, letting you get settled again as he soothes you.

and even if he tries to encourage you to speak and finish your sentences, sometimes he knows that ain’t always going to be the best thing for you.

like when you’re in a boutique, buying all them pretty dresses that elvis just loves to put you in, and the shop lady shows you something just gorgeous, and all you can do is try to get your words out.

“tha-a-tha-th-“ it’s on the fourth stutter that your eyes go all glossy and panicked, seeking out the big n powerful man like you’re just some little lost puppy searching for her owner.

and so he’ll step in, taking a hold of your little hand in his big coarse one and turning to the shop lady to speak on your behalf. “thanks honey, that’s awful kind of you to show us this. looks like it might just be the one that this little one is gon’ wear tonight.” he says fondly, the shop lady and elvis both looking at you with patience and a smile for you to swallow the lump in your throat and nod — that’s all you can manage for now but it’s enough. and sure, sometimes you feel like you’re four years old and unable to do anything yourself, not even speak, and the frustration gets to you, and the fear.

when you first began to date elvis, you’d wait for him to snap at you, the same way your parents would for embarrassing them in front of others, but elvis doesn’t do that — the thought wouldn’t enter his head.

no, elvis instead crouches down, whisperin’ “such a good girl,” to you. “such a polite, good girl huh?” he practically coos, knowing it’s hard for you, knowing how hard it is for you to even try to speak sometimes.

so elvis reminds you that you’ve tried and that is what matters most.

and elvis is always proud of you for trying. it’s okay if you can’t get your words out, he knows you and he understands you. and you love him, oh how you love him and how he look after you and takes care of you.

sometimes the stuttering makes you insecure, that elvis will get just as fed up as the memphis mafia do, or colonel tom does, but he doesn’t and he won’t.

he loves every part of you. stutter or no stutter, you’re his and he loves you.

note; had a bad week with my stutter, failed a test in a course i'm taking as it was part speaking and couldn't manage it, got rlly upset and rlly hating myself for it, so i thought writing down a lil about how elvis would be with me would help.

masterlist is here

request an elvis imagine etc here, i always love new ideas

love u all ❤️‍🩹

[dyns33]

Family protection

I missed Alfie during Flufftober, I'm not going to lie, even if it was fun

Thomas Shelby was preoccupied.

No, if he was honest, Thomas was just as terrified and furious at that moment, hurt inside, ready to devastate everything in his path, like every time he was told that a member of his family had been targeted.

It had perhaps been a mistake on his part to believe that it was not necessary to monitor Y/N after her marriage. Solomons' men took care of that.

So, when John had called him in a panic, saying that there were rumors about the kidnapping, or even the murder of their sister, he had at first remained frozen at his desk.

Since Polly had brought her back, this little girl from another mother, also abandoned by their fucking so called father, he had loved her. Maybe even more than the others.

The child was adorable. Shy at first, then smiling, with a crystal-clear laugh, asking for cuddles from her brothers, playing with dolls with her sister, and always wanting to be with them.

Normally, boys didn't accept the presence of girls. Poor Ada knew something about that. But strangely, with Y/N, it was different. Neither he, nor John, nor Arthur, could refuse her anything.

She came with them in the streets, in the countryside, in the trees. There were some limits of course, but he had shown her how to climb, jump, run. How to defend herself, if one strange day they weren't there.

Thomas confided things to her and her only when they were alone. The times he slept in the fields, she came to join him. That was often what pushed him to come home, because he didn't want her to catch her death. She stayed there, glued to him without saying anything, respecting his silence like no other member of his family, and for that, he ended up talking to her.

It was a false secret, that Y/N was his favorite. A secret that didn't bother anyone, since she was everyone's favorite.

So Thomas Shelby was preoccupied, because it was said that something had happened to his little sister, without anyone being able to clearly say what.

"She was in a bookstore." Arthur mumbled. "She goes there several times a month, to get books and read to the kids. They like it, she has a beautiful voice. After the session, she often has tea upstairs with the old owner. Men came in, beat up the employees and customers, before going upstairs. Then there was a fire. We don't know anything else."

"And Mr. Solomons ?"

"Haven't managed to reach him. His little assistant says he's… busy."

You'd think the same guys had come to Camden Town to destroy the King's Bakery. Because everything was in a pathetic state, and it was the doing of one man, who shouted orders from his office when he wasn't breaking anything that came his way.

If Thomas was preoccupied, Alfie had lost his mind.

During an important meeting with the Irish, he had let Ollie handle the business, and since the men had to be watched, it was a new kid who answered the phone.

He learned only two hours after his return that a woman had called. Not just any woman, his wife. Who was worried, because there were men in front of the bookstore, whom she didn't know.

She was smart, his wife. His tender Y/N, well raised by the Shelbys. Even if she was normally safe, she remained wary, thinking of looking behind or through the window, knowing all of her husband's employees.

The incompetents who followed her that day had been found with their throats slit in an alley.

Even though his patient was at his limit, Thomas let Alfie finish his tantrum, noting that he had left only the phone and the record player intact, which was playing opera to try to calm him down.

Y/N had disappeared for four hours now. He wouldn't calm down.

"They would have called, huh ? To give their fucking instructions. Or maybe they're scared, they know that my men, the most competent this time, and yours, are all over town, and that as soon as we know who did this, they'll be dead. But… If they don't have her… Tommy, if they don't have her, if she's in that still smoking pile of ashes… I'll burn everything."

"Arthur and John are going to find her."

"Yeah, huh ? You can sense it with your gypsy powers ? Your witch aunt read the cards and saw that my Y/N was healthy ?"

"Not now, Alfie."

Solomons growled, turning his office chair in anger and slamming it against the floor until it was all crumbs. It was only because it was his wife's family that he was acceptinf Thomas' presence.

And for his part, even though he wanted to blow his head off for not protecting his sister properly, Tommy sat there smoking his cigarette, remembering how it had felt to hold Grace in his arms.

When the phone rang, he stared at it for a moment, before looking at Alfie, frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the wall. He wondered if he hadn't heard, before realizing that the wandering Jew was afraid to answer.

It might have been the famous ransom demand, which would teach them that a lot of harm had been done to Y/N, and much more would come if they didn't do what the kidnappers wanted.

It might also have been the coroner, who had finished putting names on the bodies following the fire.

Slowly, Thomas put down his cigarette, before answering.

"… Tommy ?"

"… Y/N ?"

"Give me that !" ordered Alfie who immediately came back to life, snatching the phone from him before finding a softer voice. "Treacle ? Love ? Are you okay ? Where are you ?"

It turned out that despite the lack of practice, taking young Y/N into the woods to teach her how to climb, jump, play tightrope walkers and hide, had been a good thing.

Realizing that something was happening and since her husband was not reachable, she had climbed through the upstairs window on the courtyard side, hoisting herself up onto the roof, until she found a secluded spot to climb down.

Then, not knowing who to trust, she had stayed hidden until nightfall, to go to the closest and safest place from her position, which was her sister's house.

"Faster, Ismael !"

Thomas could have muttered that it would be better to get to Ada's alive, but he only clung to the door handle while the driver obeyed Mr. Solomons without worrying about pedestrians or other cars.

It was also useless to stop Alfie from jumping onto the sidewalk, forgetting his cane in the car to go and bang on the door like a madman until someone opened it.

Calm only returned when he laid eyes on Y/N, settled in the living room and already surrounded by all the other Shelbys who had been called after them.

"Treacle. Forgive me." he sobbed as he threw himself at her knees, his arms around her and his head against her stomach. "I was so worried, love, I thought I was going to die."

"Oh, Alfie. I'm sorry, I wanted to call you before but I didn't have access to a phone."

"I'm the worst husband. I didn't protect you. If my men weren't dead, I'd slit their throats myself."

"Let's try to talk about something happier." Thomas coughed as he approached, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder who smiled at him. "Did you hurt yourself jumping off the roof ?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Strange clothes."

"Yes, love. You weren't wearing that this morning."

"Oh, I…" Y/N said, visibly embarrassed. "I may have "borrowed" a disguise. And money. And a car."

"She's our lil sis !" Arthur declared proudly, oblivious to the dark looks from his aunt, sister, brothers, and brother-in-law.

Maybe they had also shown young Y/N how to steal, but only once or twice, for fun, telling her that it was wrong, and that she would never need to do that because they would take care of her.

Alfie mumbled in Hebrew, which made her laugh. Probably insults without malice. He only let go of her to allow the others to kiss her before he took her back to their home, returning worse than a leech at the first opportunity.

When he proposed to add some of his men to Solomons' for her next outings, the king of Candem was at first outraged. He didn't bark only because his wife had already experienced a lot of emotions, but he would not let Thomas humiliate him.

However, in the middle of the night, certainly when Y/N was sleeping, Solomons contacted him.

"How many men, and what price ?"

"I'm the one who feels insulted now, Alfie. She's my sister, that will be the necessary number and for nothing at all."

"Hmm… You know, they all have something to say about you, your siblings. All of them, while you take care of them. I know it, I see it, but they are never happy. But not Y/N. No, my treacle has nothing but compliments for her big brothers, and you the first. Tommy this, Tommy that. She adores you."

"I adore her too."

"Hmm. Not as much as me, and so there will be fewer men than mine, but… I accept the offer."

"Glad we almost agree on something, Mr. Solomons."

He did not sleep that night, because Thomas Shelby was a preoccupied man by nature. By business, by his family, by the future and the past.

But as for his favorite little sister, he could have slept peacefully, knowing that her husband was there to ensure her happiness and protection as he had sworn during their marriage.

And if something were to happen, they would join forces, then Thomas would probably kill Alfie to punish him, if the madman didn't kill himself first to join Y/N whom he loved at least as much as her brother loved her.

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 3

James Potter x Reader

Summary: A boy in your class haunts your search for your secret admirer, uncovering some feelings you thought you lost years before…

Warnings: Some very subtle sexual implications, secret admirer trope, extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, James is a virgin, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, oblivious!reader, Remus being the most supportive and helpful friend James has ever had, reader is a bit of a nerd, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.5K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Potions concluded with the setting sun. You adjusted in your seat to reach your bag, dropping supplies into its dark void. You had managed to phase the unusual situation you were in to the back of your mind, forgetting your secret admirer as you completed the class work. This was, however, short lived.

You turned back to your desk and spotted a folded note on its surface, the paper identical to the one you received the night before. You attempted to conceal your growing curiosity and excitement as you swiftly snatched it and launched yourself out of your chair, bag in hand.

Turning to leave the room, you thought of your friends’ ecstatic faces at the discovery of a new note, before-

Bump.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” You turned your frame to face the source of disruption, air pushed from your lungs for just a second. There stood a tentative James Potter, a splattering of rose appearing on his cheeks at your eye contact. “Um, I- I’m sorry!” He rambled, rushing away before you could even consider the interaction.

Your stomach quietly dipped and flipped at the contact, creating an unfamiliar warmth which you quickly forced down as you shook your head with a small smile. James Potter, ladies man, smooth talker and prank puller couldn’t even form a coherent sentence around you. Strange. Though, at least he apologised this time.

You exited the classroom, remembering the note you held in your hand, and practically skipped towards the Gryffindor common room with bubbling enthusiasm.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“And then I just froze! I can’t help it, her eyes are so captivating and she smells really good and the way she clutched the note so protectively made my heart flutter!” James finished his rambling, looking around his dorm in disbelief as his friends snickered affectionately.

“Good Merlin, Prongs! Every attractive bird you bump into like that at post-match parties would be subject to a dousing of charm, flirtations, and charisma by now…” Sirius quipped with a smirk, amused by the boy’s rare, flustered look hiding behind his hands.

“I mean, of course she’s a pretty one, Prongs, but what’s stopping you from wooing her like all the rest?” Silence fell on the group as James considered Sirius’ words. “Well, I don’t know, Prongs, maybe it’s because- well, you know, you’ve been…saving yourself…for h-“ Peter attempted, choosing not to finish his sentence after the entourage of warning glares met his eyes.

“James, Peter might have a point…for once…” Remus spoke after some consideration. “You obviously view her differently to all the other girls you’ve spoken to, and I know the reason you hesitate with all the rest is because you wish they were her…” Remus glanced at the raven-haired boy sitting on his bed as he said those last words, who was unaware as he moved to console James.

The young Potter was arched over, with his elbows on his knees and his face in the palms of his hands. His bed dipped under the weight of Sirius taking a seat beside him.

“Prongs, let me put it bluntly,” Sirius began, “you’ll have to either man up, chat her up and finally get the girl you deserve, or move on and bloody kiss someone else already. It’s no use pining over her if she doesn’t even know you’re pining! Now what did that second note say?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“‘You look so pretty today, I really like how you did your hair! And thank you for all your explanations in the class discussion, it really helped me stay on top of my grades with a beautiful thing like you sitting near me.’ He drew a little winking face next to that, ‘Forever yours.” Charlie and Hope burst into a fit of giggles after you recited the most recent note.

“He’s obsessed with you! This is so cute!” Charlie squealed, holding your shoulders and shaking you slightly for emphasis. “You know what this means, right? He must be in your potions class!” Hope stated with a smirk, leaning across from her seat on the floor to pick up your list of potential suitors.

“Let’s see, that leaves us with about…five options!” She exclaimed. Your bewildered expression contrasted her excitement, crawling over to her position on the dorm room floor. One, two, three, four…five. You counted the Gryffindor boys in your potions class as your eyes widened.

One name stuck out to you in particular: James Potter. As if sharing the same thought, Charlie brightened as she spotted the same name on the paper. “Potter is in that class! Oh my, my…you are quite the catch aren’t you, love?” She teased, inching closer to your warming face. “Ooh! You’re blushing! Are you sure you really got over him all those years ago, hmm?” Hope joined Charlie in closing the distance between all three of you as your cheeks gave you away.

“Of course I’m over him! That was in fourth year…well, maybe…ugh, it doesn’t matter! It’s probably not him anyway, I mean, I can’t imagine him finding the time to do any of this with his adoring fan club constantly surrounding him…” you muttered.

“But it could really be him! I mean, you were saying he gets all nervous and awkward around you, there’s a chance that could mean-“ You stopped Charlie’s rabbit hole of conspiracy, choosing not to dwell on the matter longer.

“There are four others on this list, it’s best if we cover all our bases.” Hope reasoned, joining you in rationality and convincing Charlie to do the same. “Let’s keep an eye out for any of these distinguished gentlemen paying extra attention to our darling friend.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The quiet night caused the atmosphere of the Gryffindor house to soften under the soft glow of the crescent moon. Remus couldn’t sleep. It was almost too peaceful, and he didn’t like it.

Sitting up in his bed, he glanced over the figures of his friends, their chests softly rising with each breath they took. Slinking into the cloak of darkness by the door, he slowly opened the door and forged a path to the common room.

There, sat under the light of a lamp, was a flowing cascade of your hair over the back of the couch. You were hunched over paper, concentrating on your History of Magic homework.

“Hey, can I join you?” Remus attempted not to startle you as he rounded the corner, joining you on the coach after you noticed his presence and nodded in confirmation.

Remus was always the more mature member of the Marauders, more focused on his studies than pranking innocent students.

“So, listen,” He began after a beat, “You’re working on History of Magic, right? I’ve noticed you’re really excelling in that class and, not to brag, but I’m quite good at it too.” You met his gaze. “I know, I’ve seen your writing. You clearly work hard.” You replied, instilling that Gryffindor courage in every word that would have normally been absent during interactions such as this, often causing you to dismiss the compliment with a shy smile.

Remus allowed himself a small grin at your unfamiliar nonchalance, continuing his proposition. “Oh, thank you! Well, I was wondering if you wanted to team up. I could be your study partner, and we could top the class together! I’ll teach you anything you’re not sure about, and I’d ask for the same in return.” You turned his proposal over in your mind, causing a small moment of silence between you two.

“There are some years I’m not so familiar with, and I certainly could do with the clarification. So sure, Remus, I’ll be your study partner!” You smiled warmly, comfortable in the newfound knowledge that the boy wasn’t a possible face behind your recently received love confessions. You found his proposition to be a friendly gesture, and far more genuine than any action you’d expect from a Marauder.

“Great!” He cheered, “We can start tomorrow. I often sit with my friends in the library, if you’re willing to join…” Remus trailed off, hoping you’d sit with his lovestruck friend for a few hours in the name of good grades.

“I’ll be there, Remus, thank you for the offer.” The words escaped your mouth before you had a chance to consider them, but Remus was already delighted by your acceptance. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, love, goodnight.”

He flashed a soft smile your way as he stood to return to his bed, leaving you bathing in the light of the lamp with an optimistic fluttering in your stomach.

You decided to leave it be, along with the hope that the boy with the rounded glasses would be there to get all flustered over you again, nagging that sweet, romantic side of your brain.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: Woohoo, here we go! I hope you’re all excited for some tooth aching fluff in the next chapter because it looks like reader is warming up to the Marauders >.< Thank you so much for reading this series, and be sure to like and reblog! Comment to be added to the tag list so you don’t miss chapter 4!

[pookalicious-hq]

pt.1 - bestest friends ... sukuna ryomen x reader

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˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚part of the all japan youth summer games crossover event! synopsis: they've always been best friends since anyone could remember, what's changed now? tags/tws: crossover au, childhood friends to lovers, swearing word count: 2.5k

If you were to ask Sukuna Ryomen how he stumbled into the world of MMA, he’d roll his eyes and insist that he’d always been a fighter. Some people are simply born with the instinct to throw a punch, and he was no exception. The sport came naturally to him, a second skin that fit him better than any uniform ever could.

Each strike was a release, channelling the frustration of his parents’ absence into raw, explosive power. The thrill of the fight surged through him, electrifying his veins, and for those precious moments, he felt alive. Here, his talent wasn’t just acknowledged; it was celebrated, roars of encouragement enveloping him like a warm embrace. And for that opportunity, he had one person to thank—the only one he truly respected: you.

bestest friend ever! - 2 new messages - omg ryo - let’s check out the big gym! i heard they have free snacks :)

He huffed a small laugh at the text, rolling his eyes at the contact name you’d assigned yourself all those years ago. The message finally registered in his head, the set from before still taking a toll on his energy. He reached for his water bottle with his other hand, the water a stark relief to the heat radiating off of his skin.

After a moment of rest, he typed back.

- already here. - better hurry your ass up

With that, he resumed his workout, feeling the strain in his arms as the weight tested his endurance. He, along with a few other fighters, had already settled into the AJYSG campus, spending the past few days getting accustomed to all the high-end facility had to offer. This was only his second time in the weight room, though he wouldn’t dare tell you that. He hadn’t invited you the first time—or this time—and he knew you’d have something to say about it. Not that he was feeling guilty or that he didn’t want to bother you… Not at all. Whatever.

In all truth, whenever the two of you trained together, Ryomen found himself… distracted. But make of that what you would. Maybe it was the way you filled his ears with soft ramblings, stories of the birds outside your window that you saw the other day. Or maybe it was how even the hint of your smile could make him falter, sending his sets into a nosedive. Not that he minded all that much. You’d be there to spot him anyway, your face scrunching in concentration as the muscles beneath the athletic fabric of your shirt shifted, helping him lift the weights back onto the rack.

Even now, the thought of you scolding him for not inviting you made the slightest smile come to surface, knowing you’d be just as persistent in teasing him as you were at keeping him in line.

All these thoughts from two simple texts. By now, Satoru would be shaking his head, telling him he was “down bad” and, hell, maybe he was. But before he could dwell on it, his phone buzzed again in his hand.

- where are you???

He huffed.

- use your eyes idiot

With a roll of his eyes—but not without a small smile—Ryomen pocketed his phone just as a figure came up to the bench he was using. A girl he vaguely recognized from earlier workouts, dressed in AJYSG gear, flashed him a friendly grin.

“Hey, you were here a few days ago, right?” she asked, shifting her weight as if eager to chat. He gave a short nod, answering with a flat, “Yeah,” before looking back toward the entrance, hoping to spot you.

Undeterred by his response, she continued, “I was hoping to run into you again. It’s such a huge place; I still get lost sometimes.”

“Mm,” he muttered, noncommittal, eyes still flicking to the doorway. Then, as if answering his silent wish he found the vibrant shade of pink he had been hoping to see. 

He spotted you almost immediately—a flash of baby-pink biker shorts and a matching sports bra. You stood near the entrance with your headphones on, oblivious to everything around you as you scanned the gym. Ryomen felt the faintest tug of a smile as he got up from the bench, already moving toward you before he realized it.

The girl, apparently still hopeful, followed close behind him. “So, what do you think of the place so far?” she asked, trying to keep pace.

“It’s fine,” he replied, barely glancing her way. His focus was fully on you now, watching as you turned left, then right, squinting through the crowd with that familiar crease in your brow. You looked a little lost, the corners of your mouth downturned in that soft, concentrated frown he’d seen a thousand times. It was kind of endearing if he let himself admit it.

As he neared, he raised his hand and, without hesitation, gave you a light tap on the head.

You jolted at the tap on your head, your headphones slipping slightly askew, and for a split second, your eyes were wide with surprise. But then, as recognition set in, your gaze softened with pure joy, warmth radiating from you as if he were the best sight you'd seen all day.

Damn. What he’d give to see that look every second of his life.

“This place is too big, couldn’t find you,” you huffed, feigning exasperation, though a grin was already tugging at your lips. He smirked, satisfied with your reaction, and as you tugged one ear of your headphones off, the soft hint of that familiar citrus scent he’d come to associate with you drifted in the air between you. It wrapped around him, grounding him in the shared moment like the quiet center of a storm.

With a raised brow, he stepped closer, flicking the middle of your forehead with a grin. “Nah, you’re just blind.”

You rolled your eyes, batting his hand away. “You know I’m near-sighted, dumbass. I just don’t wanna wear my glasses right now.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms as he towered over you, eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Yeah, I understand. They make you look like a little nerd anyway."

You scoffed, in turn flicking him in the stomach, “Shut up. At least they help me see.”

The two of you were wrapped in that familiar rhythm, the playful back-and-forth that filled the air between you with a quiet warmth. His eyes narrowed, honing in on you, his focus sharpening as you laughed, the sound like a tether that kept him grounded. For a moment, everything else faded—just you, the ease of this orbit you both shared. He leaned in, ready to land his next comeback, when an unwelcome voice broke in from beside him.

“So, what program are you in?”

The girl had reappeared, planting herself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, her gaze unwavering on him, almost as if you were a mere background detail. His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation cracking through his calm. He barely nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting back to you as he tried to sidestep her—only for her to step directly in his way again, as if by sheer willpower alone.

You sighed, nudging his arm, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. “Ryo, don’t be rude.”

He scoffed lightly, shooting you a look that all but said, You can’t be serious. He turned back to the girl, giving her a curt, flat response, “MMA program,” before he moved to stand by you again. Ignoring her, he let his shoulder brush against yours, a subtle but firm return to where he wanted to be—beside you, with no interruptions.

The everlasting smile on your face hadn’t faded one bit. Your eyes sparkled as you took in the facility, a spark of excitement there that he might’ve imagined had deepened as you looked at him. But before he could fully soak it in, the girl’s voice rang out beside him again, her words barely registering as they drifted past his ear.

“—I was really hoping that—”

“Actually,” he cut her off smoothly, his voice carrying just enough edge, “we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

She blinked, as if just now noticing you, glancing you up and down with feigned surprise. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

The three of you were all fully aware she’d seen you from the start.

“Oh!” she continued, her expectant gaze turning back to Ryomen. “Are you two, like… siblings?”

You let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Uh, don’t think we look that alike… but no, not siblings!”

Ryomen snorted, amused by your uneasiness, but it wasn’t enough to deter her.

“Huh, not even cousins or—”

“We’re dating.” His voice cut through the air, smooth and unflinching, his words laced with just enough finality to end the girl’s line of questioning. “Not so nice meeting you. Hopefully, we won’t see you around.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he wrapped his fingers lightly around your wrist and pulled you away, his grip firm but oddly gentle. The warmth of his hand was grounding, and though his focus seemed set on getting away, he missed the deepening blush on your cheeks as you hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“Hurry up and get your stupid yoga stretches in,” he called over his shoulder, still holding your wrist until you matched his pace. “I was in the middle of my set—why are you walking so goddamn slowly?”

He finally glanced back at you, only to find you wide-eyed and flushed. You looked as if you’d been caught completely off guard, and he slowed, arching a brow as he took in your unusual hesitance.

“You good?” he asked, his voice rougher than intended but with a flicker of concern. He’d never seen you look this rattled, not with him.

Your cheeks warmed even more as you averted your gaze, trying to gather your words. “Yeah! I’m fine. Just… um, why’d you say that?”

He blinked, his confusion slowly shifting to a look of mild annoyance, but the blush on your face caught him off guard, keeping his curiosity rooted in place. “Say what?”

“That we’re dating,” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as if you were speaking it aloud for the first time yourself. The words hung between you both, almost fragile. And just like that, something unspoken settled in, taking him by surprise.

He stilled, his mind processing. It finally clicked. Oh. He hadn’t thought twice about the comment—it had been an instinctual way to brush off the girl’s annoyingly persistent questions. After all, he was used to you ignoring his constant flirtations. The idea of you reacting, of actually caring… it hadn’t crossed his mind in ages. An uncomfortable twist formed in his chest, bringing with it a cascade of old feelings he’d long buried, and he found himself momentarily speechless.

With a smirk that barely masked his sudden nerves, he leaned down, meeting your eyes in a way he rarely did, that spark of mischief just barely hiding his hesitation. “What’s goin’ on with your face, dumbass?” His tone held its usual teasing lilt, but there was a slight catch in his voice that betrayed him.

You glared up at him, clearly flustered, and quickly brushed off your embarrassment. “Nothing, I just…” You hesitated, glancing away before mumbling, “Were you just… you know, messing around?”

The question hit him harder than he’d expected, and he could feel his heart lurch in response, though he was quick to mask it with a nonchalant shrug. As his gaze met yours, he caught something in your eyes—a nervous hope, a glimmer of something vulnerable—and the realization stirred up emotions he’d shoved down long ago. This wasn’t how he’d pictured today going. Honestly, he hadn’t planned on bringing up the feelings he’d locked away for what felt like a lifetime.

But he wasn’t ready to deal with those feelings now, not with you looking at him like that. So he did what he did best: played it off.

“Of course I was, idiot.” He gave a casual shrug, though his tone held an edge, rougher than usual. “You can’t actually think I’d be serious about something like that.”

The casual remark barely left his lips before he saw your expression change. It was subtle—just the slightest drop in your shoulders and a flicker of something that looked a lot like disappointment in your eyes. You quickly covered it with a small, practiced smile, but it wasn’t enough to hide the moment of vulnerability he’d managed to bring out.

“No, yeah. Obviously,” you said, your tone light but a little too cheerful, as if trying to smooth over what he’d just tossed away. “I’ll, uh, go warm up. Be right back.” Without another word, you turned, leaving him standing there, watching as you walked off.

The second you left, it felt like he’d been sucker-punched. His stomach dropped, and a knot tightened in his chest, twisting uncomfortably as he replayed the moment in his head. That tiny hint of hurt in your eyes haunted him, gnawing at his thoughts, each replay worse than the last. Why hadn’t he just gone with it? Why did he have to brush you off like that? He could’ve at least made a joke or said something that didn’t leave you reduced to a person he couldn’t recognize.

“Fuckin’ Idiot,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. The self-directed insult echoed in his mind as he paced, now too agitated to focus. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall. It was so obvious that he had feelings for you, had always had them. And when the chance came to admit it, he did the exact opposite.

As he looked over, he caught a glimpse of you stretching across the room, still smiling, but he could tell now it was forced. That fake cheer only made the ache in his chest worse, filling him with a wave of regret and frustration he could barely contain. His fingers itched to go over, to fix it somehow, to tell you that maybe he hadn’t been kidding, that he was just too dumb to admit it. But what would that accomplish now? He’d already crushed whatever moment the two of you had shared, all because he hadn’t been able to let his guard down for two seconds.

With a low groan, he forced himself to look away, glaring at the floor as he tried to steady his breath. It felt like a battle between his pride and his need to fix things, both sides pushing him to take a step but too stubborn to act. As much as he wanted to storm over there and set things straight, all he could do was stand there, caught between the things he wanted to say and the wall he’d built around his feelings for so long.

a/n: omg yay! first fic in my crossover au! i hope you like it pookies, lmk if you have any requests for other characters or any comments, I love seeing what ppl have to say. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist mwahhh <33

taglist: currently no one :(

[suzukiblu]

Day three of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I–what?” Tim says like a useless idiot, attempting to shut his useless idiot brain up long enough for it to stop replaying Kon saying “you got me all this nice stuff” on a loop on literally every single possible level of his thought processes. It is, uh . . . not going well. At all. In no way whatsoever is it going well. 

Though “wear for you” is just a lost cause, considering. “Wear for you” is just the metaphorical elevator music of the rest of his life now, Tim guesses. That’s just a thing he’s gonna have to deal with for the rest of his life. When he’s sixty-five and faking being on his supervillain deathbed so he can retire in his alternate reality of choice, he’s gonna be thinking that instead of “Rosebud”. He’ll be thinking that on his actual deathbed, even.

“I mean–you like it when I wear the stuff you get me, don’t you?” Kon says and Tim probably wouldn’t notice the slight flash of self-consciousness that flickers across the other’s face if he weren’t literally on top of him and a Bat, but he is, in fact, literally on top of him and a Bat. “Makes for a way nicer wrap job than the comics page.” 

. . . Tim has a lot of thoughts about that phrasing. Just–a lot. A lot of very confused and tangled-up and all-over-the-place thoughts that he can’t even really narrow down to a specific emotion or genre of emotions or even “positive” or “negative”. 

Kon describing himself like he thinks he’s something to give him–something he’s willing to give him–that is just a very, very tangle-inducing thing to hear. 

“A ‘wrap job’,” Tim echoes slowly, because there are way, way too many ways to take that description, but not all that many good ones. He’s used to hearing Kon flirt like he thinks he’s the hottest thing since sliced bread, all cocky and smug and preening, not talking up the girls but talking up himself, way too self-centered and self-obsessed and– 

. . . ah, Tim realizes very, very slowly. 

He’s used to hearing Kon sell himself when he’s flirting. He doesn’t talk up the girls; he talks up himself. 

He talks up–the product.

“What, you don’t like presents, daddy?” Kon asks as he gives him a flirty, teasing grin with that flicker of self-consciousness still in the back of his eyes. Tim thinks about those opaque sunglasses he likes to wear all the time and wonders if maybe Kon isn’t used to people seeing his eyes this much. “

Tim decides that salt-and-burning Cadmus is actually not enough, and he also needs to throw Rex Leech into an active volcano and maybe also literally every single girl Kon has ever dated for more than five minutes, whoever said girls are. Just–this doesn’t feel like making out on the ledge did, where Kon was all soft and eager and overwhelmed and Tim felt like they were on the same wavelength; this feels more like . . . 

Talking up the product, again. 

“I like you,” Tim says, and shifts his hand down to Kon’s shoulder, which feels like–less risky territory right now, maybe. “That’s not–I mean–” 

“You know I’ll be whatever you like,” Kon purrs, and shifts his posture just enough to make himself less of a bed and more of a lounger; curved and shifted to support Tim more than himself, and Tim feels–

Tim feels very weird, suddenly, and not in a good way at all.