#it was fun. i feel like there were more of us but i only really remember Duck(me) and Cat.

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: 10 fun facts about your future spouse

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you 10 fun facts about your partner/future spouse. I hope you all enjoy it!

FREE READING: a subscription to my Patreon before February 7th, no matter the tier, will give you a free question of choice. I updated the overall look of my patreon so feel free to look!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel > PATREON Masterlist [NEW]

The extended version (10 more fun facts) of this reading can be found on my Patreon, the link of which is here

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

1. They would love to draw you as their muse;

2. They enjoy shows that have incredibly dangerous and insane stunts (because why would you want to do that);

3. They can be very catty when it comes to their words if they’re annoyed; giving shade like a high-schooler;

4. They love their alcohol, but it has to be a specific kind;

5. They enjoy beautiful gardens and would love to have one to tend to themselves (but they aren’t good at it at all, you’ll probably be helping in the future);

6. Your future spouse loves thinking back to their high-school times with old friends, re-experiencing all of it;

7. Your future spouse is open to learning from mistakes and growing from past experiences;

8. Your future spouse would love to sleep in the forest with you sometimes; just you two, or your little family if you two have kids, in the forest with some fire and marshmallows on sticks;

9. They think a fun date in the future for the two of you would be picking fruits from trees;

10. They love acting as a joke; they have a whole alter-ego.

Pile 2:

1. Your future spouse enjoys driving cars a lot; they love the feeling it gives them;

2. They have a very small friend group (around 2 friends), but they’re so close they’re basically siblings;

3. Your future spouse has a tendency to let things go their way and just see what happens, even if preparing would’ve been a better idea;

4. Your future spouse will constantly giggle if they’re drunk;

5. They really enjoy cats, and most of guys their future spouse’s have had a cat when they were younger;

6. They find celebrating birthdays difficult and will act a bit ‘against’ it, but secretly they do enjoy it;

7. Your future spouse is good at imagining things (they prefer to imagine fantasy scenario’s);

8. Your future spouse loves being with friends and having a fun drink;

9. They will be causing mayhem to get a reaction out of you simply because they are bored;

10. They have a decent amount of influence on people; but they only really use it to fuck around and have fun.

Pile 3:

1. Your future spouse can enjoy a good book every once in a while;

2. They enjoy stargazing through windows something (they don’t prefer the outside often, given they get cold very quickly and dislike a ton of layers in order to do so);

3. They like circuses;

4. Your future spouse sometimes has nightmares, they’ve had this their whole lives. They have more then usual, and enough to be an issue in their lives;

5. Even though your future spouse will claim they’re not superstitious at all, they will always make a wish at a falling star;

6. Your future spouse loves to think about moral problems;

7. They would enjoy it to have a fish as a pet;

8. They’d like to sit in a dark forest alone and not do anything; they see the situation as something very peaceful and nice;

9. Your future spouse is very detail-oriented;

10. Your future spouse is often at the back near a wall at bigger gatherings, preferring to see everything instead of standing in the middle of it all.

[sc0tters]

Be a Brat and Find Out | Quinn Hughes

summary: there is only so much of bratty you that Quinn can take before he teaches you a lesson.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, swearing, cock riding?

word count: 0.95k

authors note: hello and welcome to the first part of the one shot wonder event! this was so much fun to write, I am not someone who usually writes blurbs let alone smut ones so I really do hope that this is enjoyed by you guys. the idea for this one stuck in my brain for a while so it was about time I got it written out!

This was a sight Quinn swore would have been in his dreams. 

Your whimpers echoed off of the walls of your bedroom “fuck baby you could have had such a good night.” Quinn sighed keeping his hands on your hips, making sure that you couldn’t stop your movements.

You sat in nothing more than your Canucks scarf tears stained your cheeks with your lipstick practically gone now. The folds of your pussy wrapped around his cock “please Quinny.” You begged cutting yourself off as he brought his hand up to tug at your scarf “don’t make me out to be the bad guy doll.”Quinn shook his head. 

The captain raised his free hand up to smack your ass “ahh.” You whimpered feeling him massage the area of your skin that he had hit. 

You had pushed him over the edge that night after particularly rough game. It toppled over the tower of close interactions you had with Cole McWard over the last week. Quinn swore that he was close to killing his younger teammate if you laughed at another stupid thing that came from his lips. But now it was you that felt the brunt of Quinn’s anger. 

That’s how you ended up on his cock because after a long ride home where you were dangerously close to pulling his cock out in the car, when your hand edged dangerously close to his upper thigh. Quinn refused to believe that you deserved to be properly fucked, that’s why you weren’t sat with his cock inside of you. You had fucked yourself on his thigh before, in fact it was one of your favourite things when you craved his attention. 

But now Quinn sat watching how your folds swallowed his cock, desperately rubbing your clit against his length. It was selfish, even you knew that but god were you loving how the hunger in your stomach felt.

Your eyes screwed shut feeling his cock throb against your clit “shouldn’t even fucking let you cum.” Quinn scoffed as he wrapped his arms around your throat slowly the blood flow to your brain “no!” You yelled shaking your head. 

The boy cocked his head “you think that’s the right attitude to get what you want?” He asked squeezing his hand “please Quinny.” You begged almost wondering how coherent words came from your lips. 

Quinn smiled, you were on the right track, “please what?” He pushed your buttons now feeling his strength wavering “wanna cum so bad.” You pleaded with a soft sniffle. 

Your body jolted feeling the head of his cock brush against your let, his precum spreading against your sensitive bud. His hand forced your hips back down, you weren’t allowed to get off that fast “even after you were such a brat all week?” The captain taunted you, using the hand that stayed around your throat to keep you upright. 

You tried everything to rest your head against his shoulder “sorry.” Was all that escaped from your lips “for what?” Quinn chewed at his lip seeing how your slick coated his cock. 

It shone like it screamed to actually be fucked, to be given the chance to feel the walls of your cunt stretch to allow his cock in “just wanted your attention.” It was no secret that the Canucks weren’t doing their best, but Quinn was on edge because of it. 

Quinn frowned at your words “and you thought that this was the best way to get it?” He shook his head watching you drive your hips with even more desperation now. 

You nodded gnawing at the inside of your cheek “please Q.” You begged refusing to let yourself cum into he said you could. 

The boy felt his eyes flutter “you promise you’re gonna behave?” The question stuck to your skin like sweat. 

You were never going to listen to that, like Quinn shouldn’t have been surprised if he was hoisting your ass over his knee next week “promise.” You nodded watching Quinn  bring your face closer to his. 

His lips pursed together “open that mouth f’me love.” This was the first time that night he said something with love. 

So naturally you clung to it, your jaw went slack as your tongue rolled out. But what you didn’t expect was that Quinn would let a glob of saliva go from his lips. It landed in your tongue and he swore he saw stars watching you pull your tongue into your mouth as you swallowed what he had deposited into your mouth. 

A grunt escaped from his lips “make a mess sweet girl.” He cooed sending you a nod. That was all it took for you to drive your hips harder, feeling how the very inch of his cock felt against your clit. You were desperate to fuck him but this was all he said you deserved. 

Your eyes screwed shut when your mouth fell open “right there baby.” Quinn grunted taking over as he began to feel his own high coming fast at him. 

It was almost pornographic how your moans mixed into each other as they painted the walls. Quinn didn’t know who exactly came first as his cock shot warm sticky ropes against his stomach. Your legs shook as your cunt gushed against his dick, not letting your thrusts stop because it was unclear if it was you or him controlling your pace.

You had barely come down from your high as you kissed at his shoulder “shit!” You groaned feeling his cock thrust into your cunt. 

Quinn laughed pressing a kiss against your head “you really thought that you’d get away with all that this easy?” The captain asked, flipping you both over so he could remind you who was really in control.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 5

Chapters 5 and 6 are done! Yippy! Chapter 7 is going to be a slice-of-life type of thing because I don't want to time skip straight to the bats finding out quite yet. Also, did y'all know that Gothamite also means an inhabitant of NYC? Whenever you see me use that just know I mean an inhabitant of Gotham City.

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 5 >>next

NYC was hell on earth and that’s coming from a Gothamite.

Sure- did a rogue attack 3 times a week, maybe more, in Gotham? Yes. But NYC felt lawless and without rhyme or reason. Every day something was happening, every day a building went down if it wasn’t a whole street, every day a hero would almost run you over while you were just trying to chill in the air.

At least on the third Tuesday of every month, there would be no robberies in Gotham, at least if something happened to the city and Batman wasn’t around the rogues would keep the people safe. Here it seemed to be everyone for themselves, and the rent was heinous for the type of bullshit that went down, in Gotham it was pennies compared to NYC. The constant feeling of being watched didn’t help either it irked at the back of your head every time, only stopping in the safety of your home.

The shadows stopped talking to you as well, you could barely hear them anymore, your theory being that NYC was simply too bright compared to G. City. Visiting Midnight City helped keep you connected to them, it felt somewhat like Gotham. But Darkwing felt too much like Batman, making you paranoid, so you never truly lingered for long. You missed them. Missed the rogues, the garden, the kids, the manor. The house really grew on you.

But you liked it. You liked the chaos, the myriads of heroes, the aliens that kept trying to conquer the world, and you enjoyed how the heroes knew that sometimes the best course of action was to kill the threat.

You were still bitter about how Joker took Jason from you, about how Mr. Wayne hid that from you, so seeing Omni-Man, War Woman, Immortal and so many more deal with clearly deadly threats as they should be dealt with felt nice. They would never let Joker live, the clown wouldn’t have millions of kills, and he wouldn’t have gotten Barbara and Jason.

Of course, you’ve heard rumors that while Batman doesn’t go out of his way to kill, he lets others do the dirty work, everyone in Gotham has. You’ve seen Lois Lane cover some of the bigger, worldwide alien attacks that the Justice League helped with. Batman didn’t seem to have a problem with killing or seriously injuring them. He was either a hypocrite or afraid to lose it once he did kill a human, either way, both were bad options.

So, you put up with it, found yourself a studio apartment owned by an old woman, overlooking the fact that the whole building may have been owned by a gang, and kept on doing your online schooling. Kept on making art, donating to charities and shelters, found yourself a nice job pet sitting, and even did some volunteering at local shelters when they needed an extra hand.

You got better at flying, getting so fast you could go around the globe in 5 minutes. It was fun visiting the places you heard Bruce talk about to the others, Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Belgium, Brazil, and China. You were planning on visiting every city in every country with this newfound freedom. It was fun, and Bruce didn’t even notice as you used more and more of your allowance.

Sadly, your moments of peace and happiness always seemed to last for a short while. You were happy with just flying, it opened opportunities you didn’t even think were possible, but you’ve never seen a meta whose ability was only flying, not if they didn’t have wings, and maybe paranoia settled in.

Were you just dreaming? Was this just a really long dream? Were you dead? Would you go off the rocket when or if other powers showed up? What will you do when they do show up? You wanted to be an artist, to paint until your heart gave away. But if people needed help you wouldn’t be able to stay on the sidelines knowing you’re more than capable of lending a hand.

You knew you already had some strength power active- you wouldn’t be able to fly that fast without your skin peeling right off. Maybe it just made your skin stronger? Well, that’s how you ended up in a forest, or deep in a park- you weren’t sure, you flew without thinking, your thoughts and theories eating at you until you had to act.

The tree in front of you had an average-sized trunk, maybe on the smaller side compared to the others around you. You’ve been staring at it for a bit, debating if this really was something you wanted to see if you could do. “Ignorance is bliss” flew through your mind, but the full sayings of these quotes always rang at the back of your head. “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise”.

Your fist met the trunk with a small thud, you didn’t feel any pain, nothing was happening, so you bit your lip, closed your eyes tight, and punched the trunk harder. You heard the wood splinter before you saw it, your eyes flying wide open at the sound. The trunk had a dent in the shape of your fist, not quite all the way through. You still felt nothing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have tested out your strength this much, Ivy would have been quite mad at you for destroying so many trees, each one thicker than the last, but you were simply curious and made sure to clean up after yourself. It was weird. If you hit fast enough your arm could go right through quite cleanly, but there was no pain, none at all… Is this how Superman felt?

In your excitement, you didn’t even notice the figure above you, watching your every move or the flying orb camera doing the same. And while the figure kept watching you grow in your powers for a year, watched you help around in small ways, mostly clean up and small muggings, the orb stopped after a few months.

It took a while for you to be able to lift as much as you could now, for the first half of your newfound power you had to break stuff like big rubble down before you could lift them, you still found it amusing how Red Flash stayed quiet about you, but how could he not when you shushed him the first time he tried to tell the others. The man wasn’t about to fuck with Cecil’s worker, even though he might have said a word or two to the old man’s face about child labor.

Despite all that you truly felt happy, fulfilled even. You were doing art, helping people, and despite still working on having friends during the day part, you were glad you left. You were on cloud nine, well, literally more than figuratively. You were flying above the clouds, basking in the sun. Nothing could cloud your life anymore.

…Where did the sun go? Your eyes opened, blissful expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught a dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its eyes glowing, a wide grin showing a full set of teeth, cape billowing behind it.

What. The. Fuck.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion

hope I didn't forget anyone 😬

[downbad4sylus]

“Spare me, Doctor Buzzkill”

synopsis: While Sylus is away on a business deal, you miraculously get Zayne and Greyson to go on a night out with Tara, except you get very drunk and you miss your boyfriend a lot.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; established relationship; zayne/greyson/tara cameos; excessive drinking; mentions of throwing up; god-awful amount of fluff; mostly proofread

word count: ~2.4k

a/n: the people cast their votes and so here is the fluff fic requested by the masses~~ can you guys tell zayne is my second favorite or no? this is sort of? a continuation of the last fic where zayne and sylus first met (tagged anyone who replied or liked the poll from earlier this week)

You couldn’t believe you’d convinced Zayne to come out with you and your Hunter friends. Tara—who had accompanied you a handful of times to Akso Hospital for your check ups—had been flirting with Doctor Greyson at any opportunity she could. So you both hatched a plan to invite Greyson on a night out and, by some miracle, got Zayne not only to play along but to join you as well. He’d agreed that Greyson would be more comfortable going as long as he had a familiar face there with him.

And so here you all were, at a club many Hunters frequented, having the time of your lives.

Well, you and Tara were.

Zayne and Greyson, not ones for partying, mostly stayed at the bar nursing their (non-alcoholic) drinks. You and Tara managed to get them on the dance floor at one point, and once Tara and Greyson’s attentions were locked on each other, you and Zayne made a swift exit.

“Do you think Greyson will ask Tara out?” you asked Zayne as you ordered another drink. Admittedly you were a bit drunk, but you were having too much fun to quit now.

“I’m not sure,” Zayne replied. “He seems quite fond of her, though.”

You nodded your assent, too busy sipping from a straw to speak aloud.

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” Zayne asked.

“Don’t go all doctor on me right now,” you said. “I’m fine.”

He arched a brow. “I’m not sure your boyfriend will be pleased with me if I bring you home drunk out of your mind.”

You gaped at him. “Drunk out of my mind?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s a little dramatic, Zayne. And besides, Skye is away on business right now anyway, so you’re safe.”

Talking about Sylus sent a pang of longing through your chest. He’d been away for three days already, handling a rather important business deal involving modified Protocores. He wasn’t supposed to come back for another two days, and you missed him terribly. It was probably why you were pounding drinks, insisting you were fine and not at all drunk. You wished he was here too, to have fun and enjoy the night with you and your friends.

“I feel like him being away means I’m far from safe,” Zayne grumbled. “I am your primary care physician, I’m responsible for making sure you remain healthy.”

You rolled your eyes at your primary care physician. “Spare me, Doctor Buzzkill.” You drained the rest of your drink and slapped the glass onto the bar. “I’m going to dance, you coming?”

Zayne shook his head. “Go on.”

Throwing him a little wave, you rejoined Tara and Greyson on the dance floor.

—

“I’m not drunk!” you yelled, your words blatantly slurred. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Y/N, you can’t walk straight and your eyes are barely open,” Zayne admonished, tugging a stumbling you toward the exit.

Tara and Greyson trailed behind you, their hands grazing with every other step, bright pink blushes staining their cheeks. Too bad you were too drunk to notice the exciting progress they had made, but Tara would be sure to fill you in once you were sober.

“Mmm’not drunk,” you repeated so quietly no one even heard you.

You wished Sylus was here. You missed him so much. You missed his snowy hair, his striking red eyes. The slope of his nose and the curve of his lips. The way those lips felt on yours, on your bare skin.

“Zayne I’m really hot,” you declared.

Zayne turned and placed the back of his cool hand on your forehead. “You feel a little warm but nothing to be concerned with. Would you feel better if I carried you on my back?”

You nodded, your bottom lip sticking out as you pouted.

Zayne smiled softly at the sight before turning again and dropping into a crouch. You clambered onto his back, Greyson and Tara needing to rush forward to steady you when it looked like you were going to fall off. With your arms securely around Zayne’s neck (to the point where you were almost choking him) he straightened with ease.

Greyson looked at Tara. “Were you going to call a taxi because I can drive you home, you know, if you wanted.”

Tara’s face lit up. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You didn’t drink too much?”

Greyson chuckled. “Doctor Zayne and I didn’t actually have any alcohol, I’m perfectly sober.”

“Okay!” Tara agreed excitedly.

Greyson smiled. “My car is at the hospital, but it’s not that far of a walk.”

“I don’t mind,” Tara said. “It’s a nice night out.”

“Zayne,” you whispered in his ear. “Zayne, do you—hic—think Greyson will ask her out tonight?”

Zayne chuckled. “It’s possible.”

“How are we getting home?” you asked.

“Your apartment isn’t far, I’ll take you there then grab a taxi back to my place,” he explained.

“Mmmkay.”

“Looks like we’ll be going our separate ways then,” Greyson declared.

You perked up and began waving excessively. “Goodbye Doctor Greyson! Bye Tara! Call me tomorrow!”

They both laughed at your obvious drunken state and offered their goodbyes before heading off in the opposite direction.

Zayne started the walk to your apartment, adjusting you on his back.

Your thoughts returned to your boyfriend.

“Zayne,” you mumbled. “I miss Sylus.”

His steps faltered. “Who?”

You huffed, not realizing the mistake you made in not using Sylus’s alias. “I said I miss Sylus, you know, my—hic—my boyfriend. I don’t like it when he leaves for his stupid business trips.”

Still slightly confused, Zayne said, “Why don’t you call him?”

“Call him?” you echoed. “Oh! You’re right! I can call him.” You started tapping Zayne’s cheek. “Let me down, let me down.”

Zayne carefully lowered you to your feet, keeping a hand hovering close by in case you started to sway. You pulled out your phone from your pocket, but no matter how many times you pressed the power button, it never turned on.

Tears pooled in your eyes as you stared at the black screen. “It’s dead,” you mumbled. “I’ll never talk to Sylus again!”

Zayne swallowed a laugh. “When we get to your apartment, you can plug your phone in and call him once it’s charged.”

Your tear-filled eyes looked up at Zayne. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

—

You threw up once, in a random bush, on your way to your apartment. You almost threw up all over Zayne, whose back you had climbed onto once more, but managed to get him to put you down in time to avoid covering him in vomit.

You walk-stumbled the rest of the way, just in case you had to throw up again.

When you reached your apartment door, it took you three tries to remember the code to unlock it, despite needing only your fingerprint.

The second you walked through the door, another sudden wave of nausea hit you. You bolted for the bathroom, leaving a concerned Zayne in the entryway.

After closing and locking the door, Zayne made his way to the bathroom and found you hunched over the toilet, puking your guts up. He held your hair and rubbed your back as you retched.

“I told you you had too much to drink,” he teased.

“Shut up!” you cried.

You gagged and spit a few more times before collapsing onto the floor. Zayne carefully observed your condition—clammy and pale—and rose to his feet.

“Stay there, I’m going to get you some water,” he said.

You nodded, having zero intention of getting up anytime soon.

Zayne hurried to the kitchen. He had to search through a few cabinets before finding your glasses, then went to the water dispenser in your fridge. As he waited for the glass to fill, he heard a noise from the entryway, like someone was trying to unlock the door.

He moved quickly, depositing the half full glass on the counter and going to the entryway. He didn’t know who had the code to your apartment but he certainly didn’t think you were expecting visitors, especially when your phone had been dead this whole time.

Zayne decided it was best to catch whoever was trying to come in off guard. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

“Doctor Zayne, what a pleasant surprise. Did you help my drunk girlfriend home?”

Skye—no, Sylus? Whatever his name was, stood on the other side of the door, giving Zayne an assessing once over.

Sylus and Zayne—in the little time they had spent together since Sylus became your boyfriend—had gained an unspoken, mutual respect for each other. They both acknowledged the importance of the other in your life, and as long as you were happy and taken care of, that was all that mattered.

So Sylus wasn’t upset that the doctor was currently in your apartment when he was supposed to be away on business. In fact, he was rather relieved that you had someone looking after you while he wasn’t there, especially when you were drunk. But he was here now, and he fully planned on assuming the role of your caretaker.

“Skye, I thought you were on a business trip,” said Zayne, stepping aside for the snowy-haired man. He wasn’t going to ask about the name thing, he honestly didn’t want to know.

Sylus held up his phone, the screen open on a myriad of texts you had drunkenly sent him throughout the night. “How could I not come home early when Y/N was practically begging me to?”

Zayne snorted. “Her phone died by the time we left the club, she was very upset she couldn’t call you.”

Sylus huffed, taking off his shoes. “Poor thing. Where is she—”

“Sy?”

Both men’s heads snapped up to where you stood in the living room, disheveled as all hell. But to Sylus (and Zayne) you were still the most beautiful treasure he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Hi sweetie,” he drawled. “Miss me?”

You cried out a strangled laugh and ran for him, launching yourself into his waiting arms so hard he nearly fell backward.

“I missed you,” you whispered in his ear, relishing in the way his warmth enveloped you.

“Oh I know, you made that abundantly clear,” he teased.

You drew back, your brow furrowed. “When?”

Sylus raised a brow. “Just how drunk are you?”

“Very,” answered Zayne.

You pouted, craning your neck to look at your doctor. “I feel better now.”

“Because you threw up everything you drank,” said Zayne. He looked at Sylus. “She needs water to rehydrate, but don’t let her chug it. Slow sips only. Have her take some painkillers before bed so she doesn’t end up waking up with as bad of a hangover and don’t let her sleep on her back. If she still isn’t feeling well tomorrow, give me a call and I’ll bring over some medicine. I trust you can take over from here?”

Sylus nodded. “Thank you for taking care of her for me.”

Zayne smiled slightly. “Of course, I’m her primary care physician after all.”

You shoved your face into Sylus’s neck. “He’s Doctor Buzzkill,” you muttered into his skin.

Sylus barked a laugh. “Okay, kitten,” he said, patting your back, “let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Sylus and Zayne exchanged a curt nod as Sylus finally walked out of the entryway. You waved weakly at your doctor over Sylus’s shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to charge your phone,” Zayne said by way of goodbye.

“I’m so glad you came home early,” you told Sylus as he sat you on the lip of the sink.

Sylus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “‘Sy come home, I miss you.’ ‘I miss you, Sy, when are you coming home?’ ‘It’s not as fun going out without you, Sy.’ And many, many more messages like that, all throughout the night. I don’t think you gave me any other choice, sweetie.”

You grinned, not feeling even the slightest bit guilty for being the reason he cut his trip short. “I really did miss you,” you said, reaching for his hand and twining your fingers. “Though I think I said your real name in front of Zayne.”

Sylus shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal, plus we could always blame it on your drunken state.” He frowned as he looked you over. “You really shouldn’t drink that much, kitten.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s like Zayne said, I threw it all up.”

Sylus scoffed. “Yeah and your doctor gave me specific orders for me to follow so how about we get you in the shower so I can do that?”

You didn’t move, instead your expression softened as you stared at your boyfriend. “I think you and Zayne could be good friends, if you both gave it a chance.”

Surprise flitted across Sylus’s face. “I don’t need friends, sweetie. I only need you.”

“What about Luke and Kieran?”

“They’re my subordinates.”

“Mephisto?”

“He’s a mechanical bird.”

“Okay, next time we go out, you’re coming with us so we can make you some friends.”

Sylus laughed. “Sure, whatever you say, kitten.”

—

Bonus:

*the next morning*

You squealed into the phone, effectively startling Sylus awake.

“So you’re going on a date?” you asked. You waited for the person on the line to reply, then squealed again. “Tara this is so exciting! Our plan actually worked!”

Sylus stared up at you, wondering if you were even human to have drank so much the night previous yet seemed to have woken up perfectly fine. So fine that you found it appropriate to scream into your phone at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Okay, so I already have our next mission planned,” you said excitedly. “Operation Make Skye Some Friends.”

Sylus groaned loudly and covered his head with his pillow. He did not want to hear what you had to say next.

tags: @bookfreakk @blorbohunter @randomgurl2326 @worldly-fluster @athanasia-day

[revelboo]

man dude u are an absolute GOD with how much writing you keep pumping out THANK YOU FOR FEEDING USSSSSSSSSSS

I’m just having fun

Everything Is Alright Pt 122

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Optics on the ceiling overhead, on anything but you and your two mates fussing over you, Megatron swallows a growl. That all too familiar feeling of alienation that he remembers from the mines lifting through him. Thought that he'd gotten past this. That it could no longer hurt him, but it's as bitter now as it was back then. Being right there and ignored. Not belonging. And he hates it with a passion. "You two realize this changes everything," he says to Soundwave and Starscream and the Seeker's optics immediately narrow.

• "What exactly does this change?" Starscream growls, hand cupping the back of your head when you finally lay your cheek on his chassis. “I can tend to my mate. I don’t need either of you.” And you stiffen against him. Because as much as he despises the pair of them, you’d chosen them. Wants so much to resent you for that. For forcing him into this mess. They’re not his trine. Not brothers. They’re enemies. Wings drooping slightly then flaring when Soundwave immediately tries to comfort you, he growls. “But my mate does. For some reason.”

• Fighting a smile because that’s probably as civil as Starscream can be given the circumstances, you reach back a hand and Soundwave laces his servos with your fingers. And you’re painfully aware of how messed up whatever this is between the four of you is. That none of them are exactly happy. “Can we just try to start over?” Know you’re asking a lot of them. That this is all your fault anyway. “But you’re so tired of the fighting and scheming.

• “I’m not going to suddenly forget how many times your traitorous little Seeker has stabbed me in the back,” Megatron growls, but he sounds more tired than truly angry. That alone helps Soundwave relax some. Wants to pull you away from Starscream, separate you from him so he can just focus on your emotions. Wanting to try and figure out why you’d fully bonded Megatron after shunning him. It’s what he’d been working towards, but it still hurts that you’d chosen the warlord over him. How many times had he put Megatron ahead of himself, though? Should be used to it. Doing the hard things for the greater good. Even if it hurts. Always loyal. Obedient. Not allowed to want anything for himself, but he does want you even if you don’t want him.

• “Because you’re running the cause into the ground,” Starscream snarls wings lifting and the warlord’s head turns to stare at him. And he’s never been free to speak his mind without fear of pain or retribution, but he can say whatever the pit he wants right now and he’s untouchable because they’re both fully bonded to you. It’s like a dam falling in his processor. All the frustration, hate, and anger pouring out. “Do you have any idea how many stupid decisions you make? How many actions are driven by your desire to kill Optimus, not actual strategy? But what the frag do you know about strategy anyway? A miner and a gladiator. You have so many advisors and you don’t listen to any of us, too busy acting out your little vendetta while the cause suffers. I believed in you.”

• “You only believe in power,” Megatron counters, rolling and propping himself up on an arm. And your skin prickles, not really liking being so small and between them while they argue. Feel Soundwave hook an arm around your middle and pull you to him and away from Starscream like he’s concerned too. “You lie and scheme and paint yourself as a worthy leader, but you’re a coward scrabbling for any power or control you can get your servos on.” Yeah, you don’t want to be anywhere near them if they’re about to brawl. Both tensed like they’re seconds from launching at each other and then slowly relaxing to make you realize you were holding your breath. And Megatron glances at you, vents noisily and resumes staring at the ceiling. “You’re brave with our little pet to protect you.”

Previous

Next

Slowly remembering how to do this/accidentally stabbing myself with the needle so many times. I’m much rustier at this than I thought, though 🫠 looks more like Wheeljack’s illegitimate love child than Starscream at this point. Just a few more pins to finish my bag now

[takes1]

Kuroo x Middle Blocker Reader? They’re both in Nekoma and their teams somehow someway play against each other in a training camp. The match was basically reader vs Kuroo whenever they were both in play, the tension is particularly heated in not a sportsmanship-banter way, some phrases are thrown back and forth; “keep your form steady pretty girl.” He’d whisper after they both land on their feet which leaves her to scold him for ‘seemingly’ nothing since only she heard it. After the match he’d tap back into an actual boyfriend and help her tape her fingers which were injured from blocking him.

(btw i read ur Matsukawa writing and got HOOKED 😋)

kuroo teasing tall!reader during a match

hey! thanks for the req, this was fun! featuring my fav headcanon: kuroo can throw his voice rlly well, which is why nobody on the team realized it was him whistling

warnings. none? minors still DNI

details. fem!reader / fluffy-esque fic / middle blocker!reader / flirty!kuroo / kuroo loves to tease / kuroo loves blockers / tall!reader / secretly sweet!kuroo / questionable intentions / hand thirst / hand holding / training camp setting / coach nekomata for the girls / 2k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

"Yo. 11."

A voice prodded your attention from the other side of the net. When you looked from your dispersing huddle to look at the guys' team, you realized it was the weirdo whose 'delayed spike' you clocked.

"You on scholarship?"

You turned your nose up at him. Something about his face pissed you off. The way he asked, with that unnecessary smirk and wandering eyes, made it feel like he wasn't really curious.

The answer was yes, but that wasn't his business.

With such an intelligent face, he would probably be able to use that information to win this stupid practice game. Your team's blockers were stronger. Both Nekoma teams were comparable on defense, so it was a game that could stand to be won with effective shutdowns.

You scowled and rolled your eyes.

"Why? You need some money?"

More than enough to express that you weren't interested in mind games.

This training camp was not your cup of tea. It made you irritable with every team you had to keep playing, the later the day went on, and the higher the sun rose in the sky.

The game now was the last of the day, and a spur-of-the-moment decision, at that. Most other schools called it early to get some rest before the last day of matches, but Nekoma was still steaming up the westmost gym, grinding away.

Your only saving grace was the frequency that you were switched out with your libero. Every second off the court was heaven to your aching legs, your clicky wrists, and sore fingers.

The assumption that the harassment would end just because you were subbed out became a distant dream.

He was also getting subbed with their libero. He stood ten feet away and didn't cross the court line.

"Psst."

You stared forward at the game, arms crossed. It hurt your fingers, just a little, so you winced and adjusted your hands so you could rest your arms more comfortably.

He shouted, "Elevennn."

It was so silly, his tactic of trying to break your focus, that you struggled to keep a chuckle down. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell louder, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to not smile.

"If you need someone to tape you up, give me a shout, okay?"

You finally glanced at him. It was a sweet offer, especially because you were shit at taping and didn't trust the other girls to not break your fingers.

Still, he seemed like the kind of guy to flirt with every girl he thought was hot enough. He was too pretty. Too friendly.

Your speculative attitude towards him ended up as a blessing in disguise. Every play that lined you up with him was technical and difficult-- you weren't sure if it was your perception, his angle of changing to accommodate your read blocks, or if he was still trying to get in your head.

#1 acknowledged you after every play.

It ranged from stare-downs, to somewhat-predictable snarky comments, to genuinely inappropriate flirting.

"Form breakin' down, baby? You tired?"

Was he messing with you? Or was he actually interested?

"Don't talk to me."

What should have been a discouraged frown was -to your chagrin- a shit-eating smirk. This version of 'breaking the other team's blockers' felt too targeted. You could practically feel the burn of his stare through the net, through your jersey, through the odds.

"What's with 1?" You quizzed your team captain, with almost no time off of the court, and took down a quick swallow of water, "Is- he always so fucked in the head?"

"Kuroo?"

She cackled. Cackled so hard, in fact, and you didn't even need her answer, but she gave it anyway in a dismissive sigh.

"Ohh, yeah."

The primary rationale you held going into the last set was that, maybe if you could take the feeling of being special out of your mix of emotions, it would callous your attitude towards him.

Your serve wasn't the strongest on your team. It was certainly the weakest in your inventory of skills, so this hope was the only one you had, up to start the first play.

An insecurity, very small, but nagging like a fly in the back of your head, was that he might try to heckle while the spotlight was already beaming down on you. Your routine wasn't compromised for the first 10 seconds. Being left alone was starting to become a reality.

Your hand flew to make contact with the ball. You could feel it was a good one.

A strong, intelligently-timed, wolf-whistle made you flinch at the last second and hit the ball at an angle. It flew to left, just out of bounds at the back of the opposite court.

You weren't the only one pissed off at that. Many girls on your team shouted to your defense, but nobody stepped up to confess, nor apologize. Coach Nekomata wore a deep-set expression of displeasure but said nothing.

You knew exactly who it was. He was in the back row, but a huge presence, nonetheless.

"Lock it up, guys! Keep it professional!"

Kuroo clapped, feigning a pretty convincing concern at his impolite team.

It was like a humiliation ritual having to serve again. Your hesitation, the breath you took to gather yourself, must have looked just as sad as it felt, because the encouragement from your team rang more as pity, than anything.

You didn't try to do any tricks. You just barely bumped it into play and stepped to the back, thankful for something simple.

The rest of the volley was just as hard-fought. The ball refused touch the ground for so long that both sides were secretly hoping somebody, anybody, on either team, would just fuck up, already.

The guys' team took a free ball well and set up a strong attack.

Kuroo was open- you were so tired that you read him, only him, and got lucky when the set flew to his hand when you were in a good spot for a 1-1 block.

His swing, the ball hitting the floor, the deafening slam, the end of your jump in a clumsy landing was all so fast that you didn't fully register any one part before the next was starting. You slipped, hit the ground, and landed on your side briefly.

You scrambled up, a habit. Head swinging around where it landed, you were trying to see who caught it-- but your teammates were cheering, and nobody looked ready to receive.

The whistle blew. Your team won the set.

"Nice one!!"

"Let's fucking go!!"

"Ughhh-hhh," You collapsed onto the floor and left it up to your team to peel you up.

The guys not only needed to do their losing lap of diving drills, but thanks to that stunt Kuroo decided to pull, Coach Nekomata made it three laps.

Your captain informed you that he was going to have them do just one extra if the guilty confessed, but 'whoever it was' decided to keep it to himself and earned another. You figured Kuroo might take that one to the grave.

Your team's comments were well-timed as the guys squeaked and slid and grunted past you.

"Serves them right."

"Filthy animals."

All of them were soaked in sweat and, despite how comical it was, you felt like the penalty was excessive. Group punishment, in cases like these, was mostly just sad to watch.

After your team finished their cooldowns and began filing out to head to the lodge, you remained to speak to the athletic trainer about the throbbing in your hands.

"Mm. Looks like a sprain, thankfully."

The word sprain scared you, but you tried to not let it show.

"But-- you should keep pressure off of it. Try to keep it still and tape, if you can."

It was automatic, thinking back to Kuroo's little invitation.

Their team stayed to clean up, and you glanced over to Kuroo helping sweep. They all looked so bummed and tired. There was no way in hell he had been honest, even then; and now, after that much extra work, you were certain that he wanted nothing to do with you.

Now that the sun was setting, stepping outside was less egregious to the senses. No more blinding white light, no piercing heat. Just the mellow buzz of cicadas and a fresh summer scent.

You got to leave your stress at the door. In your doing so, the question lingered: Why did it matter so much what he thought of you? Why did you want to know the truth so bad?

"Hey-!" Kuroo's voice was at first so rushed that he startled you. He self-corrected to a shell of his smooth, sweet-talking type of tone: "Hey,"

Your giggle underneath your palm made him blush. He was incredibly uncool if he wasn't trying.

You mocked him: "Hey."

The way he grinned, and how he hung, a little embarrassed, on the entrance to the gym was sweet.

"I'm sorry about messing with you so much, especially- uh,"

He was struggling to articulate, so you quickly eased the situation. He had paid enough for his irritating habits.

You shifted your weight and crossed your arms again with a shrug, "It's fine! You were just trying to get to me. It's a good tactic, I'm used to it."

Once again, it was not a sustainable way to hold yourself- you winced at the pain in your fingers and shook your wrists out once more.

Kuroo wore the first genuine face of concern you had yet to see on him. It made you regret the mistake to cross your arms.

He jerked a thumb back inside, "I saw you talking to the trainer. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah--,"

"Do you-," He smiled, once again, much sweeter than before, when he realized he was repeating himself, "-Need me to tape you up?"

Your, "Um," was loaded with indecision.

The painful and arduous process of having to sit through your teammates taping you down was a brief and agonizing flash before your eyes.

He was in the middle of telling you to not feel pressured to say yes, when you nodded.

"Yeah, let's do it."

After he left for a moment to grab the roll of tape from his bag, you sat on the elevated platform that made up the doorway to the gym. He settled next to you with a tired groan.

"Ooh-kay, let's seee-,"

His concentration on your hand was precise, and studied, with very clear intention to not hurt you.

You shifted closer.

He would use his teeth to pull the tape taut, one hand always busy, gently supporting yours. You watched his face. He watched your shaky fingers.

His eyelashes were long and dark. It made him look more pretty -instead of handsome- from this distance. That messy 'bedhead' hair was slicked back with sweat, aside from some rebellious strays at his hairline. He smelled like work, with a very recent, last-minute spray of deodorant.

Between these longer inspections of his features, you would glance to the growing shadows outside as the sun sank lower in the sky. He looked so lovely in the warm, fleeting, orange glow.

As he turned your hand over, you realized you had been wrong in your assumptions about his personal character. Kuroo was a sweetheart.

He was also really good at taping hands. He finished with your first hand and was halfway through the second, pace quicker, because this closer one was resting in his lap, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

Long, nimble fingers were finishing up. You looked down and grew hot and tingly at the sight of your hand in his lap.

"That feel okay?" He asked softly.

You nodded and gave an instant 'yes' before you even checked.

"Did'ya see what I did?"

Your blush grew out of embarrassment. You lied, poorly, "Um- yeah."

Kuroo laughed. You realized you needed to take your hand back, so you held them out in front of your face and wiggled to check the support. It did feel okay.

"Well, before your next game, try to do it like that," He reached out to pinch your knuckles between his fingertips, and brought your somewhat-connected hands back down between you. It was a motion that was incredibly vague in nature, so you didn't know how to feel about it, "Or- y'know, come and find me. I'd love to help."

His tape was nicer than yours. You wouldn't be able to replicate it just by staring at the finished product.

"I think I'll come and find you," You decided.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[ohithankyou]

speaking about buck and tommy scenes that make me feel like i’m intruding in on a moment that should be reserved for the two of them and the two of them only — this scene is kind of fucking insane when it comes to that.

it’s not even a full scene but a brief moment (less than a minute) within a larger scene and yet. and YET. it’s SO captivating and memorable.

they’re not alone but as the viewer, it really feels like they’re the only two people in the room (probably how they felt as well let’s be real) with how they talk, look, and flirt with each other and in the way they exist in each other’s space (buck basically pinning tommy on one side, no space between them….AH. god i LOVE when their physical space becomes one).

and buck always has a little cheeky flare in his flirting but here it’s even more special and present because he teases tommy a little with his, “oh, i’m sorry, did you want the red one?” which, to me, really translates to a teasing cheeky, “oh, are you looking at me? huh? are you obsessed,” and tommy replies (with his dorky old-school romantic compliment because yeah. of course he does. his evan deserves the best), “has anyone ever told you, you’re a vision in a cone,” which is essentially, “yeah. i am looking at you. you’re beautiful. a vision.” and of course that leaves buck smitten as fuck, because why wouldn’t it? insane compliment to get and for tommy, giving that compliment was as natural and second nature as breathing. his boyfriend is a vision and tommy’s just happy he gets to look at him in the way he does—admire his beauty, etc.

AND not to forget, as tommy’s complimenting buck, he’s also eye-fucking him with the most intense gaze. it doesn’t last very long before tommy (and then buck) break(s) out into a smile and laugh (i think tommy remembered they were, indeed, not alone and needed to diffuse the intensity, make it more wholesome again otherwise….you know). but those brief few seconds where tommy’s piercing eye contact is burning through buck and buck is heavy breathing harder than he almost ever has were so incredibly charged and passionate that i felt like i shouldn’t have been there watching them. which, really, the whole moment felt like i shouldn’t have been there — during the wholesome and sweet portion (which the whole thing was wholesome and sweet, really) and during the more brief, intense moment between them.

it’s just such a great moment, even (or especially) for as brief as it is in the grand scheme of their story. but it shows us how their dynamic grew from season seven and it has a little bit of everything to offer: it’s playful, sweet, heated, charged, fun, wholesome, romantic—so so romantic imo. we get to see them so close together physically and we get to see a different dynamic to their flirting from their previous moments. it’s also a scene where we get to see more of tommy and his flirting (he initiates the flirting here unlike in moments when it’s buck who does)—and i love that.

just a really beautiful scene in my opinion and even though i feel like i’m intruding when i watch it, i will keep rewatching it.

[utopiastri]

Touch starved/cuddle curse for landoscar please!!! I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing 💕

hi anon! i went for cuddle curse because i always love an excuse to write magical realism - i hope you enjoy and thank you for the prompt!!!

“So. How much longer are we trapped like this?” Lando asks

Jon checks his watch and glances at the ceiling as he does some quick mental maths. “About seven more hours? Give or take.”

Lando groans and tries to tilt his head back dramatically only to be stopped abruptly when the back of his neck hits Oscar’s arm where it's curled around his shoulders. “Sorry, mate,” he grimaces.

“It’s ok,” Oscar says quietly, “Sorry for getting us in this mess.”

“It’s not your fault. Alright, well it’s not entirely your fault anyway,” Lando amends after Oscar gives him a look.

Jon clears his throat and Lando and Oscar both turn to look. “You boys all good here for the next few hours then? I'll be right next door if you need anything – you need anything before I go?” Oscar shakes his head and mutters a small thanks, but Lando stops to think about it for a second. He opens his mouth but Jon cuts him off. “Lando, no matter how many times you ask me, I’m not letting you have a cheat meal the night before a race just because your teammate got you cursed.”

Lando huffs. Oscar winces. Jon sighs.

“Fuck off then, if you’re not even gonna let me eat anything fun,” Lando grumbles.

Jon rolls his eyes and leaves the room. With him gone, Lando and Oscar fade into an awkward silence. Or as close to silence as you can get when you’re tangled so tightly with your teammate that you can hear every breath, every sniffle, every fidget. When the curse first pulled them together they'd experimented with lying further away from each other, but it resulted in so much pain for them both that they decided it would be better to just cling to each other instead.

For the record, Lando wasn’t kidding when he said this whole thing wasn’t entirely Oscar’s fault. Yes, Oscar’s the one who impeded Charles in quali today and yes, technically, Charles is the one whose magic accidentally manifested a curse on Oscar, but it’s not Oscar’s fault that Charles has never been able to control his magic.

“Why do you think Charles’ magic wound up casting a cuddle curse of all things?” Lando asks eventually, sick of the somewhat tense silence.

Oscar mumbles something but Lando can’t quite make it out.

“Hmm?”

“I said, I think the curse is having fun with the fact that Charles was pissed off that I was so close to him on track.”

“Huh?”

Oscar huffs. “I was too close to Charles on track so now the magic says I’ve gotta be too close to you instead.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” Oscar mumbles after a few more moments.

“I’ve told you you don’t need to apologise. It’s fine.”

“Oh, what, because you’re having such a wonderful time right now? Being forcibly stuck to your teammate when you could be in your own bed with as much space as you want?”

“I mean it’s not…like, I mean I know I said we were ‘trapped’ when Jon was here but like, it’s not…not nice.” Lando tries not to pull a face at the trainwreck of a sentence he just came out with.

He's not lying though. There is something not not nice about being cuddled up so close to Oscar. It’s warm for one thing, comforting for another. He’s always enjoyed the rare occasions he and Oscar have hugged for longer than your typical bro hug.

It’s not not nice.

It’s, well.

It's nice.

Like. Really nice.

Oscar makes a soft noise. “You, um, this is, uh…”

“Osc?”

Oscar takes a deep breath and then somehow manages to pull the two of them closer together, nuzzling his face into the side of Lando’s neck. “This ok?” he whispers. Lando can feel his lips move against his neck as he speaks.

“Yeah,” he replies as quietly as Oscar spoke. Tentatively, prepared to pull back at any moment, he takes the hand currently plastered to the back of Oscar’s shirt and dips it underneath, resting his palm there, skin against skin. “This oka–”

“Yes,” Oscar breathes, barely letting Lando finish the question, already leaning into the touch.

Lando swallows and does his best to tug Oscar in tighter.

Maybe being stuck like this for seven hours isn’t such a bad thing.

[aliwritex]

oscar thoughts: college student!reader riding his thigh 18+ 1.2k

notes: he’s a bit clueless in this and it was caused because of this pic. it’s quite silly but i like this don’t be mean

Chess at a house party. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a party and it wasn’t a house. But chess wasn’t really in your plans for the end of semester gathering. Fine, it wasn’t a gathering either, something in between. Your apartment was full of classmates, most of them, dancing, talking or having a drink. But in the corner of the living room sat your roommate and two of his friends, playing chess.

“What are you doing? This is an excuse to not use our brains and you’re ruining it.”

“Oh, come here, you have to play Oscar, he’s too good. Think you could beat him though.”

“Scott, I’m not gonna play chess when I’m hosting a party”

“Cmon, everyone’s set and having fun, have a game, please, Oscar’s feeling a little out of place.”

You were familiar with Oscar, he was friends with Scott, your roommate, and you’d met him a couple times, he was nice, polite and hot. So you sat down, watching the boy replace the pieces to the right spots.

“Best of three?”

“For what?”

“Don’t know yet, i’ll decide while we play” you teased and watched him nod and sign at the table, letting you know you had the white pieces.

Oscar won the first match, you the second, gathering low cheering from your two friends that watched.

“Right, if I win this one, I get to take you to my room for ‘seven minutes in heaven’ or more” you teased.

Said and done, you won the last round. Maybe he let you but you didn’t mind. You both got up and you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other side of the apartment as your friends cheered on him.

You sat him on the bed and he just stared up at you.

“Are you a virgin?” you bluntly asked the boy and watched him blush uncontrollably.

“I- what? No!”

Watching him stutter made you smile. You walked across the room, taking off your shoes and looking around your vanity for a clip to hold your hair up.

“You sure act like one” you told him through the mirror “relax a little”

Oscar could swear he got a peak of your underwear when you bent over to do so.

“Seeing I’m the winner, think I'm gonna claim my prize. And I’ve wanted to do this for a while”

Your confession made him choke on his breath as he watched you walk over to him. Your finger reached out for his chin, making him lift his head, brown eyes staring up at you through lashes. You kissed his pouty lips, sitting on his thigh. Your action knocked the breath out of his lungs, he could not respond to your kiss for a second.

“C’mon, don’t be so shy”

You guided his hands to your waist, under your flowy shirt. They were cold and slightly shaking but the touch felt good, reassuring. Your short skirt had bunched up around your hips, allowing you to feel his thigh muscles right against your underwear as you kissed. Your hands dived into his already messy hair as your tongue made it into his mouth.

His thumbs caressed your sides softly, a tentative touch that showed him getting more confident. His hands then reached up your back, lifting your shirt to expose your stomach and allowing him to catch a glimpse of a tattoo he didn’t know about, it made him curious.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked when your lips left his to explore his neck.

You chuckled at his question and slowly pulled away from him “Just sit here for me, yeah? Wanna use you for bit”

Your lips met his again and your hands dropped to take his to your hips. Then you started to move.

You had a particularly thin pair of panties on that allowed you to feel the texture of his shorts against your skin as your hips dragged forwards. You moved back, arching your back and letting his hands follow your hips. When you bucked forwards again Oscar understood what you were doing and he was in shock. But as soon as he recomposed himself he spread his legs further, making his shorts ride up.

Then the only thing separating you was your underwear but he took care of that too. His hand carefully and slowly met your middle, tucking your panties to the side. You groaned when you felt your wet lips meet his thigh, his cool skin contrasting with your middle.

Your hips moved faster and the pleasure made your head fall back, letting Oscar watch your body moving, in awe. He could feel your thigh muscles flexing beneath his hands as you moved and he was watching the way your breathing became ragged.

Your hands left his shoulders for a second, just to pull down the straps of your top, it made your boobs fall out of it, right on his face. Then you were back at it, hips moving fast, hands grabbing his shoulders, tits on his face and occasional pretty moans, you were putting on a show for him.

And it was working. He was watching like he didn’t want to miss a second of your performance. And you could feel his hard cock pressing against your knee when you moved. You couldn’t lie, it felt powerful to have him like that, under you, watching so mesmerized. You would love to concentrate on his face to see his reactions but you were already feeling your insides tighten.

Moans started coming out of your lips with no filter, you knew the music in the apartment was loud enough that only Oscar would hear them. Your thighs tightened around his and almost stopped you from moving. You were about to lose your high when his hands met your hips again and helped your movements.

You squeezed his shoulders tightly when you came, legs also tensing up around his till he was trapped. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as you did, watching your face contorting with pleasure, head thrown back and mouth open, a strangled moan making its way out.

He sighed when your head finally dropped to his shoulder and your body relaxed on top of him.

“Didn’t know you had a tattoo” he whispered to the side of your neck as his thumb caressed the mark on your stomach.

“I don’t go around showing it to everyone. Maybe you could see all of it some day though.” you teased as you pulled away, kissing his lips quickly.

A string of wetness connected your cunt to his thigh when you got up, the view making him groan. He watched from the bed as you pulled your straps back up and your skirt down but instead of straightening up your panties you took them off. You thought about it for a second before throwing them on his lap.

“You sort yourself out,” you told him through the mirror again as you let your hair down this time, now allowing him a view of your wet cunt when you bent over, “see you outside”

Oscar just watched you walk out of the room, he couldn’t say anything, just throw his body back on the bed and think about what happened.

[nayaesworld]

Deliver us from Eva

Pairing:Terry Richmond x Eva

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine), smut, love bombing

Summary: In a rush to stake her claim in the bedroom, Eva unknowingly signs a deal with the devil…

A/N: This will be strictly a one shot.(telling myself this bc ik how I am😗)

—

—

“Stuck up boujie bitch that thought she ran the office”. That’s what they all thought about Eva, but if she didn’t…who would? They were all dunces and lacked the overall beauty and intelligence that she held and quite frankly she wouldn’t apologize for it. Just a bunch of losers who couldn’t kiss her ass if it was engulfed in flames. She was just a young hot babe that overly excelled on the job yet they dwelled on the fact that she used work as a fashion show and the hallway as her runway..they simply couldn’t take her. But the newest work tea had her interested heavily…somebody had a crush on her. Well that explained all the little gifts being left on her desks, the bouquet of lilies, the little letters that explained how much they loved her work ethic and especially her radiant beauty. Well at least someone admired her hard work…and she had a feeling who that someone was.

She had noticed his affections…but everyone knelt down for her and kissed the ground she walked on. How was she supposed to know the difference? Terry Richmond was exactly Eva’s type. Tall and pretty with brains and strong arms that looked like they lifted twice her weight on a daily. His hypnotic puppy dog eyes would flick towards hers during group meetings, cheeks high and mouth upturned with a smile and she’d get suspicious of him and turn away with a roll of her eyes. He could try working that spell on another woman in the office, they were easier than her anyways. The fawning and gossiping made her gag on a daily, he was only ever cordial with the other women in the office and yet they acted as if he’d offered up his face as a seat. Pathetic.

But Eva still had an itch inside that needed to be scratched. She wouldn’t deny herself pleasure for one second. She wanted to ride that pony right off into the sunset, and she hated him for making her feel that way. If she only had to snag him and use him to get herself off then so be it..men did it all the time. A nice plan was settling in real fine in her head, the brainstorming room was Terry's playground it seemed, he spent more time in there than anyone and it showed. His business proposals for companies looking to work with theirs and diagrams were exceptionally detailed and straight forward. A man about his work. She knew where to find him and reapplied her dark brown lip liner to her plump lips. She sealed it with a clear gloss before puckering her lips and stuffing her compact mirror back into her purse, time to work some magic.

Terry had heard her coming before he saw her. Heels clicking to a beat so familiar to him that he could hunt her down in a building full of people. He had a thing for snobby pretty bitches, knocking them off their high horses and filling them with dick was his speciality and little miss Eva was his newest obsession…how fun. His matte black MacBook sat in front of him and he read through important work emails meticulously, a little bit of work before the play. She was getting closer now, just outside the door. Forcing his eyes to stay glued on his laptop screen, he tried to ignore her presence as she sat directly next to him. Notes of raspberry and saffron wafting into his nose. His ears began to ring and his foot tapped quickly underneath the table and she made it all worse by speaking to him in that sultry tone.

“I know your little secret Terry.” He paused his scrolling and arched a brow at her. Ahh so she had been receiving his gifts. Good.

“You have a crush on me, though I couldn’t really blame you.” There it was again, that air of arrogance. He liked that shit.

“Do I now..what makes you so sure?” He turned to her, giving her his full attention now.

Her full lips sat slightly open and her dark silk pressed hair fell around the cleavage that peeked from her blouse. Almond shaped eyes zeroed in on him suspiciously as she let his question sit with her. Fresh gel manicure tapping gently against the table brought his eyes downward where he watched the pretty manicured hand move to its own beat.

“Because I like you too. Believe me that was hard enough to say so don’t give me that look.”

“And just what do you like about me, Miss Eva…you ignore every other man’s advances so why me?”

“Because you’re smart and pretty..and I wanna fuck you.” Hmm a bit bolder than he’d expected but he’d bite.

“You wanna fuck me or do you wanna get fucked, there’s a difference mama choose wisely.”

The chair she sat in rolled closer and he was practically breathing in her whole existence. Her minty breath warm on his forearm as she dropped her hand onto his bicep, stroking against it like a sweet pampered house cat.

“I don’t discriminate, I’ll take whatever you’re offering and double it.” She was overconfident in her ability to overtake him and that stirred something deep inside him. Women didn’t usually challenge him this way and he was teetering on the edge of showing his hand…in due time.

Terry knew her type. Overly confident and arrogant to compensate for what she was actually lacking, he had clocked her months ago. Simply watching for an entry point into her head..to infiltrate her mind and body like a parasite. To control her. She had the workings of a good little sex slave…something to own and degrade. Something to tear down and build back up in his image.

“What if I’m not offering anything, what if I just wanna take. You willing to give lil mama?”

And willing she was. She had no idea what she was agreeing to..what she’d have to do to be down with him. The dark sinister side of him loved the art of ambush. The ability to play it up and source information about his prey while they stood in front of him. She craved something that he could only feign to give her, and he saw that present in her mind.

Terry didn’t know the true extent to his abilities or the origin of them. He assumed that they had been passed down through his bloodline..generation to generation. He knew things about people before they ever told him, he felt those things. Felt their turmoil and longing all around them, how it oozed from their pores like perspiration. And Eva was no different. She was desperate to feel any inkling of what she thought was love from people, underneath the facade she was heavily distraught by the lack of sympathy and kindness in her life. No one truly looked under her hard exterior and analyzed why she acted the way she did, said the things she said. But Terry would give her some justice tonight even if he was the only one that benefited from it.

Rushed lip locking and the sound of ripped garments filled his bedroom. There was no time to slow down. Not when her aura glowed blue with need and despair and not when his most carnal desires were coming to the forefront. There was wickedness at play there in the room, the lights turned down casting a warm glow over heated melanated skin and a tango of bodies that would frighten the gods. Terry withdrew his hand from her hair, the thick tresses so tightly bound that his knuckles rubbed against her scalp. And like a moth drawn to a flame, his brawny body carried itself to his dresser drawer. His guilty pleasure and the only white bitch that he had ever craved like air in his lungs —coke. It rushed through his senses like a dream, centering him and abusing him all at once.

The mini ziplock rested on the dresser as he snorted his first line of the night. Head thrown back in pure bliss as he felt the instant euphoric rush to his bloodstream. His back was to his dresser as he beckoned her to come to him.

“Do you partake?” A question so simple and yet she stared at him like he had two heads before shaking her head no.

“You do now… you’ll love it. It’s everything you’ve been missing I promise.” Her compliance meant little to him as he held the line up to her nose.

“Nice and slow, there you go.” He swept a thumb under her nose, gripping her chin gently in his hand. He wanted her fluttering around his space like a butterfly fresh from a chrysalis.

Her bare body twirled and wiggled in front of him like his favorite after hours show. Notes of Australian sandalwood and Haitian vetiver filled the space in his room, that intoxicating perfume that relayed signals to his olfactory bulb everyday. When she turned her back to him, hands thrown in the arm, he noticed the tramp stamp on her lower back. Heaven is what it read, but he had plans to take her someplace a little hotter, someplace she couldn’t come back from. A great satisfaction it would bring him to take her down so low he would be the only thing grounding her when he was finished with her.

He pulled her buzzing body to his. Naked chest to naked chest. His hands focused her whipping head forcing her to stare into his barren eyes, blown out pupils barely leaving room for the pretty brown he saw on a regular. He wanted all the signs of her snuffed out…aura slowly changing from blue to red. She placed her arms around his waist, lacing them together before she pressed her lips to his. A green light. An ok to wreck this helpless soul.

His mouth drooled and leaked for what seemed like the thousandth time already. Mustache and goatee drenched with pussy juice, he was getting his protein for the week and then some. Tongue curling around her clit to suckle it roughly while two of his fingers dig into her clenching hole. Her thighs had begun to bruise from his hold on them and the pain she felt from it made her moan and cry out loud. Euphoria wasn’t the word to explain what this was. This was splitting her mind in two, throwing her out and stuffing Terry inside. Did he love her? He had too, that’s what he had told her just minutes ago wasn't it? She wasn’t hearing things, couldn’t be.

“Fuck I love you too. Take it.. it won’t matter without you.” She was crying out those words to him, giving him something to hold over her. But what was she offering..,her own life perhaps?

Wild colors burst behind her eyes as she orgasmed again. Legs shaking and quivering in his tight hold, while she let him wipe tears into her hairline. He stood over her hand gripping her throat so tightly that her heart raced in fear that he wouldn’t let go.

“Love?That’s what you need right..what you’re missing? That’s what I’m giving you right…that feeling you feel right now, that’s the kind of love I offer Eva.”

Love? This newfound love made her heart race and beat rapidly in her chest, it squeezed and rattled against her ribcage begging for reprieve from his hold..the hold she felt all over her body. She wanted it tho, people never made her feel anymore, just made her realize how much she wasn’t. And when his body came to lay over hers, dick positioned just above her entrance she began to truly see.

“I own you from here on out. Forget your family..they never loved you. Forget your friends..they never offered you any solace. I can bring you that and so much more. If you just let me in.”

Her verbal consent unleashed something. And before she could protest in fear he sank deeply into her, and her mouth was caught in a permanent ‘o’ as he pistoned into her quickly. She cried quietly in his ear as the walls bled around them, her eyes wide in horror. It gushed all around them and she wiped her forehead feeling a drop splash there.

“Shh shh, there’s nothing there. It’s the drugs playing tricks on you I swear.” His deep voice cooed into her ear. His reassurance didn’t go far.

Her nails sank deep into his back as he bottomed out in her pussy. The lewd notices that came from between them were not even enough to pull her focus from the wall behind them. A pair of yellow reptilian eyes stared at them through the blood and she shrieked in terror pointing at the wall.

“He won’t bother us baby..he just likes a little show. You don’t mind now do you?” The unsettling grin on his face chilled her bones, but the fucking never stopped. He never stopped. Not when the headboard snapped in two, and not when she screamed bloody murder as another orgasm ripped through her body.

She made the mistake of shutting her eyes and when she opened them again she was watching herself and Terry on the bed. Her body stuck to the ceiling in a sort of lucid dream. She saw it all, the way he lifted her body and continued fucking her as he stood facing the wall now and how the Eva on the ground stared right up at her. Terry followed her line of sight and blew kisses up at you… the real you. Or maybe that was the real you, but how could you be sure. When you raised your hand hers raised too, and when you subconsciously asked her to wink at you she did.

Then came his voice, the lightest whisper in your loud mind. Softly pulling you back into your own body, and when your wet eyes fluttered open again viridian eyes met yours. Your body smelled fresh and clean like you had been bathed and your silky tresses sat wrapped securely under a scarf. Confusion set deep in your features and a pounding migraine to make matters worse, yet answers were all you needed. And like your mind was being read he provided one.

“Deals with the devil are best made sober…shall we try again later?”

@luvrsluxe @slvt4her @rawflwrs @thabiddie23 @blyffe @notapradagurl7 @sk1121-blog1 @dimepiece09 @playgurlxoxo @zillasvilla @23jammy @pocketsizedpanther @kenshisluvrgirl @brattyfics @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @melosliving @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kirayuki22 @alyssawritcs @becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @simplyzeeka @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @hotgrlcece @miyuhpapayuh @uzumaki-rebellion

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

[beesgobzzzing]

From https://www.sverigesradio.se/avsnitt/hooja-kaarija-om-tanken-pa-att-tavla-i-eurovision

Translation / Transcript under the cut. This interview was really nice, I highly suggest you give it a listen even if you don't speak Swedish!

Hooja and Käärijä about the thought of competing in Eurovision

Interviewer (Carolina): What an exciting collaboration! Hooja together with Käärijä. [In English] I didn't see this one coming, I can tell you that. And I will start in Swedish, with you, Hooja. [In Swedish] How in the world did this end up happening?

Hooja: We're not as different as you could think. We've been saying that both of us are crazy, we definitely saw that in the studio when we met, because we had so unbelievably much fun when writing this song. So we… we really fit well together, both personalities and musically. Writing this song was a LOT of fun.

Carolina: Yeah, because… I mean… but HOW did you meet from the start so that this ended up happening?

Mårdis: At first we had been tittle-tattling in our camp about how it would be fun, because we see a lot of similarities in each other despite also being so dissimilar. And then they apparently had also been talking in THEIR camp as well, so it sort of came up in a roundabout way AGAIN that "he wants to make something with you". So we decided that we'll go down and do this, and we met up, and we had fun, and there was no pressure, no idea was bad, we were there for two days and just laughed. And that's what happens when you have fun, too, you make music from that, and that's how we got San Francisco Boy, our lovely child that we have together. [In English, to K] San Francisco Boy is our child that we have together.

Käärijä: Yes!

Carolina: A love child.

Käärijä: YES!! (Laughter)

Carolina: So, Käärijä, I must ask you, have you seen them without their masks?

Käärijä: Maybe I see more than only face…

Carolina: In the sauna..?

Käärijä: Maybe… (Even more laughter and something unintelligible about a mask)

Carolina: But it's so nice to see, because they just said, in Swedish, that when they were in the studio, they laughed so much. Was it the same for you?

Käärijä: Yes, yes. And, uh, I remember, first time, because you start to make like, the beats, and you played that song in Finland, to me, and I'm "uh, ok, this is… this is very funny and crazy and I feel good" when the boys played the song. And uh, then we start to try and do something and we get the song San Francisco Boy. And, uh… very, very good times and we get a lot of fun.

Carolina: [In Swedish] And the funny part is, San Francisco Boy, is in Swedish and English, but I'm thinking this - We have northern Sweden, we have Finland, and we end up with San Francisco Boy. (Laughter) Is there any hidden meaning with this?

Hooja: Why not? [In English] Why not? (Laughter) [In Swedish] We don't like doing the most obvious thing.

Carolina: No, no.

Hooja: No.

Carolina: But there is no hidden meaning in the song?

Hooja: No, I don't really think there is. What do you think? (To K and Mårdis)

Mårdis: If there's a message in the song, this is what we said when we started with the song - Disco Boy, San Francisco Boy, whatever you want to be, if you want to be Orange Boy or Finland Boy then you're allowed to be that. That was a thing that we really agree upon, that… It sounds cliche, you know, "you can be who you want to be", but we really think that. For real. And it's important to us. And that we could put that into a funny song, that just sort of happened, and it's nice.

Carolina: And now you're here at Melodifestivalen, and get a taste of… wait, get a feeling of what it's like being here. Have you considered Hooja in Melodifestivalen?

Hooja: Well… Never say never, we've gotten the question a few times and we've said no then, but you never know what the future holds! You don't want to say too much, you need to.. you need to watch your words.

Carolina: [In English] Käärijä help me here, I'm trying persuade them to do the Swedish Melodifestivalen.

Käärijä: I think the boys have to make öööh, to use what they want to do. Maybe… Maybe some day. For me, why I tried to go to Eurovision in 2023, we made the song Cha Cha Cha, and it's like the first demo, and I'm thinking, "okay, this is more than just only song, we can do something bigger" and one way how we can do something bigger, um, we can go to Eurovision, and uh, I watching a lot of Eurovision when I was young.

Mårdis: And if we want to go to Eurovision one day, we are very happy to have a Eurovision veteran with us, who can guide us through life.

Käärijä: Yes, I can be your manager. (Laughter)

Carolina: That is a brilliant idea! [In Swedish] We have this on tape now. [In English] We have it on record here.

Käärijä: Yes, yes!

Carolina: Now we come..

Käärijä: We have a plan, boys! Yes, let's go to studio. (Laughter)

Carolina: I will call the EBU immediately and say "Hi, I've got three guys who will SHAKE the Eurovision around". (Laughter) But I must also ask you, Käärijä, coming second after Loreen but winning the public vote… Are you still mad? Are people in Finland still mad at Sweden? [Bees note: The interviewer's tone of voice here is very genuine and almost… apologetic?]

Käärijä: I think that people in Finland, they are mad, but not really… I'm not. Of course I remember time after final where they give the points and I saw that Loreen get more points than me, I going to cry on toilet, but… (giggles) but yes, I'm ok and Loreen is amazing artist and person, human, I love Loreen. And after final, Loreen sent me the message to "Käärijä, if you need something…"

Hooja, breaking in: Except the price… (Laughter)

Käärijä: If you need money or something… (Laughter)

Mårdis: If you want to look at the price… (Laughter)

Käärijä: But yeah, good person and I… I'm not care any more, I'm ok (giggling)

Carolina: To wrap it up then, a final question I'm very curious about, will you proceed doing this (stumbles over words) [In Swedish] I'll just do it in Swedish - will the collaboration continue? [In English] Will you continue this collaboration?

Hooja: You never know! No but, uh, you do never know.

Mårdis: I think the thing with us, we only do things that are fun for us, it's the only thing we care about, that's what music is for us. If it's fun, we're going to do it, and we've had a lot of fun with this too, so I'm ending it just like Hooja, you never know! (Laughter)

Carolina: [In English] Ok, two diplomatic answers, that they had fun, Käärijä, the Finnish vote - this sounds like a dating show! - do you want to continue dating these boys?

Käärijä: You don't know yet! But I think, boys, you can't run away anymore, when you do work with Käärijä you stay with Käärijä. (Laughter) Oh yes, yes, yes (Laughter) But uh, yeah, I hope we do other songs and more songs, and uh, let's see!

Hooja: Yeah!

Carolina: Thank you very much! [In Swedish] Thank you so much, I'm crossing my fingers we get more from your collab in the future! (Collective "woo-hoo!")

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You mentioned how ace's dream was like a vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas but I think whats the best part about it was how the progression up to that point made sense. Theyve dropped so many moments showing ace caring dearly for yuu to the point where this dream as fanservicey like that it was it feels natural for ace to have such a dream if that makes sense WAAGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

What did you think of the dream though ms raven? The dream made me wail so badly ough hes finally cried too m sure hes been through a lot 🥹 seeing cater talk to ace so sincerly it hits me so hard in the feels im so glad hes finally got to cry (a little anyways)

Ace’s dream felt like fanfiction, but at least it felt natural or like everything up to this point was leading up to this being his wish. I unfortunately cannot say that for several other dreams. Certainly ones definitely felt egregious or contrived. Some were largely fanservice (Savanaclaw Rook, dorm leader Cater, delinquent Deuce) or just excuses to make new cards (merform twins), even if it didn’t make complete sense for the character to wish for it.

dgjswvizjsowk I know you’re probably expecting me to comment on Ace in his own darn dream, but I actually have a lot more to say about Cater. Ace’s motivations + butting heads with the rescue squad were what I expected them to be (though I give him props for being the only character so far to resist waking up right away). More on my precursory thoughts in this post (but based the exact wording of your ask. I’d be tired to guess you’ve already read it 😅)! But CATER????? TELL ME WHY HE WAS THE GOAT THIS UPDATE 😭

Cater does SO much???? First he suggests the third years help Trey cook BBQ so the darkness is distracted while the others can isolate Ace and try to wake him. When that attempt fails, Cater pretends to agree with Leona’s proposal to leave Ace behind to bait Deuce to come after him to play as his support. Cater sitting down to have a heart-to-heart convo with Ace??? And then mercilessly using his UM to gang up on Ace and beat him up??? 😭 Him reminding Ace about his courage facing off against OB Riddle… Cater confessing he wanted to run, but being encouraged to join the fight because aaaaah his kouhai looked so cool and dashing!! Thanking Ace??? Finally verbalizing some of his feelings???!?!?!?!???! CATER PULLING ACE OUT OF THE DARK????? MY GOD… OTL ThE biG BRoTHER EnERGGY WaS SO DTRONgGGGGGggGGGGG

And he kept this up even into Trey’s dream???????? Where Cater once again does a TON. He volunteers to investigate since makes the most sense (he is a Heartslabyul student so it’s not shady to be in the dorm and his UM is useful for combat). Cater also the third years with him into the kitchen to have a look around. Him saying he’s impressed with Silver’s will and how he would’ve given up so much sooner if he were him???? Dropping interesting lore about Trey??? Cater admitting that he has always been a spectator and now realizes he should have done more than just watch events unfold???

CATER CONSISTeNTLY puTTING hIMSELF AnD THE THirD YEARS IN hARm’s WAy FiRST… StRAtEGIzING… mAnIPULATING… AND ACTUAL SELF-REFLECTION AnD SINCERiTY????

Cater got to shine SO much this update, especially in Ace’s dream. He really came off like a big brother figure to Ace. A little mean, but also able to be so very vulnerable with him. Him not wanting to give up on Ace even though he later says if he were Silver, he’d have given up on everyone a while ago… MAN. CaTER cARES SO muCHHHHHhhh 😭 This might actually bump him up a little in my tier list… I didn’t like him much before 💦

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 5!

i won't lie folks, these rec lists are the only reason i know what week it is. but hey, every week brings us closer to the return of 911! in the meantime, enjoy these fics <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

am i who you think about in bed? | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 6.8k | M

eddie sleeps with men that aren't buck until, well, you know. eddie's hoe phase is something so very dear to me <3 i love how this fic captures him (and that phase lol) so much!! and That Moment in the bar... unmatched

and if someone asked me if i love you (i'd lie) | forgetmyname/@kingmieczyslaw | 10.3k | E

Eddie has a concussion. Suddenly he can't lie. It would be fine if he wasn't trying his best to not confess his undying love for Buck. this is such a fun fic <3 i love the firefam's reactions to eddie's predicament!!

and longingly i long | effervescentwolf/@effervescentwolf | 14k | M

Asking for what you want is asking too much of Buck, except it isn’t really. Not when it’s Eddie. i read this fic, immediately clicked the little back to the top button, and still have it open in a tab to reread asap, that's how good this is. the hurt/comfort hits so so hard, truly marvellous!!

bobby versus buddie | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 10.4k | M

Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture. i adore how this fic captures bobby and athena and bobby's relationship with buck and eddie and also buddie <3 just a delight to read!!

buck, bothered and bewitched | bellabrady | 5.8k | not rated

Buck gets turned into a Golden Retriever. SUCH a fun fic. i really do think that animal transformation-esque fics are an untapped market... this is a brilliant example of just how good they can be!!

give me a call if you ever get lonely. | dylaesthetics | 7.7k | E

 Now that Eddie’s come out as gay, Buck helps him explore his kinks and fetishes. Not in the way you think. And later, exactly in the way you think. truly what a brilliant fic concept... hot and fun and cute <3

i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling | calvingseason | 7.7k | T

healing through shitty memes sure is cathartic. i do love a good crack treated seriously fic <3 eddie in this one genuinely had me laughing out loud!

if you say it with your hands | hammersmiths/@henwilsons | 9.9k | T

Eddie starts casually falling asleep against Buck, and Buck is very normal about it. oh the joy of the literal sleeping together tag!! this is soft and cute and just perfect <3 one of my favourites to reread!

leave the light on (i'll be coming home) | HMSLusitania/@hmslusitania | 44.4k | M

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home. i've been waiting to be in the right mood to read this one - since joining the fandom last year, it's probably the most recced fic i've seen! and, well, having read it, i totally get that. a wonderfully written fic, i loved the OCs but also adored buck and christopher here <3

let me know you (bedhead and morning breath) | burnthatbridge/@burnthatbridge | 6.2k | E

Buck hasn't gotten off since the lightning strike. Eddie watches him do something about it. THIS FIC. holy shit this fic. so good, so hot, so fun, so them!!

love me most | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 11.3k | T

Eddie’s not impressed that Buck and Tommy’s first date was supposed to be dinner and a movie. He thinks he can come up with something more creative, and he takes Buck on a date to prove his point. It’s a fake date, obviously. It’s not like he’s in love with Buck or anything.) i'm obsessed with eddie's behaviour in this fic <3 such a wonderful buddie dynamic!!

no takebacks | ever_yours/@ever-yours118 | 4.5k | M

In which Buck accidentally sends a confession to Eddie, lingers in the bargaining stage of grief, and maybe doesn’t end up regretting it so much, after all. love love love buck here, so true to character!! such a fun fic <3

PTA "coup d'état" | Bookworm0303/@insertlovelyperson | 26.5k | T

Buck attends some PTA meetings for Eddie. It goes about as well as you'd expect. this fic has so many funny moments, i can't even count how many times i had to put my phone down just to laugh. i especially loved ravi!! oh, the pta shenanigans... delightful fic!!

[yourislandgirl]

*:ꔫ:*ₓₒ RAMEN RESOLUTIONS ˚ ༘♡ੈ✩ || 이히승 x fem!reader || drabble

— KISS ME, DON’T SAY NO series

summary: sometimes all you need is someone who tries, because they love you. heeseung was your someone, and he’d move mountains to prove it . or make you some ramen.. rain check on the mountains

genres: fluff, romance, non-idol!heeseung x non-idol!reader, est. relationship

warnings: attempts at humour, the smallest hint of angst, heeseung’s poor choice in skincare

[archive]

You were extremely annoyed.

Last night was… a mess. And you didn’t even have the time to ruminate on it since your day started off late — you missed your bus, you had to take an uber to campus, you made a stupid mistake on your quiz and lost three marks because of it, and to top it all off you had to walk home in the rain because you forgot to check the weather forecast for the afternoon.

You were cold, shivering a little, hair sticking to your forehead, damp and kinda gross. It was an odd feeling to be sweating while the weather was so cold but it couldn’t be helped as you rushed into your apartment, only stopping to finally take a breath when you entered the elevator.

You leaned against the elevator walls, pushing your hair off of your cheeks. There was no way today could get worse.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and as you pulled it out, you took a deep breath in. Heeseung’s bright smile graced your screen, the name ‘Hee-man🧍‍♂️’ at the top.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself. It was bracing, those tense three seconds where you wait whilst deciding whether to pick up the phone or let it keep ringing. Truth be told, you loved your boyfriend, you loved him to the ends of the earth, but after such a shitty fight the night before, followed by such a shitty day, well…

You exhaled, and answered the call.

“Hi,” your voice was soft.

“Hey.”

You felt your stomach flip. Two years and you still could not control that reaction every time you heard his voice.

more under cut !!

Heeseung sighed before continuing, “Look, I know you had long classes today, and I know all you wanna do is just relax but… I was hoping we could talk?”

“Um,” you glanced at the number on the elevators monitor, your floor was next. “Okay, yeah, okay.” It was like you were trying to convince yourself that it would be alright. “It’s just that, I only just got home.”

“That’s fine,” Heeseung chuckled, “I’m at your apartment.”

You froze, almost forgetting to get off the elevator as the door opened. “I- what?”

It was like you could see Heeseung shrugging as he went “Mhm, I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“A bit presumptuous, huh?”

“I like to think it’s because I know you so well,” he chuckled.

You slowed down your pace, a few steps away from your door.

It was never fun to fight with him, the few fights you’ve had you’d resolved quickly, but last night was different. It was the first time either of you went to bed without fixing things. But even in the midst of nerves and the buzzing sensation from how overstimulated you were from your day, Heeseung had managed to calm you down in about five seconds.

You really wanted to fix things. And you hoped that’s what he wanted too.

As you stepped through the threshold of your door, you smiled at the warmth that filled your home.

He’d turned the heater on in the living room, he was listening to the playlist you made for him and he was… in the kitchen?

“What are you doing?” You dropped your bag and coat on the dining table chairs, unclipping your hair to start drying it.

Heeseung smirked, glancing up from the cutting board. “Ramyeon,” he said, simply using his thumb to gesture behind him at your stove. A copper pot sat on top with a delicious, spicy scent wafting out. Heeseung carefully added some small squares of fish cakes before turning down the heat to let it simmer.

You leaned against the counter, observing his movements as he let out an awkward cough, shuffling a little closer to you.

“I, uh… I know that there are a few things we need to talk about and, um, I want to sit down and properly explain my side and hear your side and just…”

You held his hand, stopping him from waving them around in a frenzy as he tried to find the words to explain what you already knew. “I get it,” you whispered. “You wanna work this out.”

Heeseung gave your hand a squeeze, a silent confirmation.

The relief that washed over you was worth every nitty gritty annoyance that you went through today.

“It was just some miscommunication, baby.” Heeseung pulled you closer by your waist. “I didn’t like how we left it last night so, I figured I’d do something nice, let you know that I’m sorry for that. And maybe we could just eat some ramyeon together and I can help you relax before we talk about this?”

You fought the smile but it slowly bloomed on your face. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But just because we had a fight doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, right?”

You nodded, burying your face into his chest. “You’re right,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the material of his shirt.

Heeseung pulled back a little, his eyes darting down and back up, holding himself back from leaning closer.

He settled his gaze on your lips. “I wanna kiss you right now.” The heat of his breath brushed against your cheeks.

You didn’t trust your voice to respond, opting to lean closer, closing your eyes and melting into his touch.

Heeeseung hands slid up your arm, reaching to cup your face, smiling into the kiss. It felt that much more special to know the love you shared wasn’t dependent on good moods and easy going days. Heeseung gave you the freedom to feel and the agency to express every emotion. Willing to slow down and solve the issue together because your love isn’t something finite. Heeseung made you feel worthy of asking for that love, he made you feel worthy of accepting that love, even when you weren’t at your best self.

“We’ll be alright,” he murmured against your hairline.

You giggled under your breath, before screwing your eyes shut. “Oh, babe… Your fingers smell like fish cakes.”

“But you love fish cakes.”

“Not as skin care!”

a.n: first instalment of the ‘kiss me don’t say no’ drabble series !! welcome to the month of love everyone <333

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2025 © yourislandgirl

[supernotnatural2005]

Love Bites

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: Dating an actor as a normal civilian is a tough gig. Especially when you leave evidence for the world to see.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+ ONLY!!!), swearing, semi-public touching, fluff.

AN: In light of it being my birthday today, imma release this one early 🎉 Just a fun little story that came to mind. Jensen is dreamy so why the hell not? 😅 Plus him getting all shy is adorable. I hope you enjoy 😚

Masterlist

“C’mon, no one will notice.” You giggled, your breath tickling his ear sending shivers down his spine. 

“What, they won’t notice me showing up with one woman, who’s a friend, then leaving with another?” He murmured, his voice more breathy than usual, as he felt the warmth of your tongue lave against his pulse point. 

“We’ll slip out the back. I’ve already called a cab,” you insisted, pulling back just enough for him to catch the glint of mischief in your eyes. That dangerous, yet familiar smile played on your lips—the kind that made him weak in the knees, the kind that could convince him to do anything.

But what really sold him was the way you dragged a perfectly manicured finger down his chest and stomach, before pressing your palm flat against the growing bulge in his suit pants.

“Fuck.” The word slipped from his lips, a sharp exhale escaping him as you applied pressure, stroking him to full hardness. You bit your lip, watching him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Without warning, he shoved you against the corridor wall, the breath knocked from your lungs as his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was frantic, hungry—an urgent dance of tongues and teeth, as if he could never get enough of you.

“How long?” Jensen mumbled against your lips, his hands sliding up the soft fabric of your dress, the way it clung to your curves driving him crazy all night.

“Should be here now.” You gasped, your back arching as he roughly grasped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples through the silk fabric.

He pulled back abruptly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the exit. It was likely a service door, used for deliveries, but Jensen managed to slip you both out unnoticed. Within moments, you were on a quiet side street where the cab you’d called was waiting.

The ride to the hotel was heavy with silence, charged with electrified tension. The space between you was deliberate, but not entirely empty. Jensen’s hand rested on your bare thigh, exposed by the slit in your dress.

His callused fingers were warm, torturous, sliding higher until they brushed the edge of your underwear. You squirmed in your seat, your breath hitching, but you bit your lip hard, forcing yourself to keep your composure.

The rest of the ride continued in the same charged silence. His hand remained on you, unmoving, teasing, torturing you as the minutes dragged on. Your body burned with need, desire evident in the laboured rhythm of your breathing, the quickening pulse in your neck, and the heat in your gaze.

Jensen, however, only smirked, maintaining that façade of control. He thanked the cabbie with his usual politeness, his fingers lingering against your skin as he handed over the fare. As you reached the hotel lobby, he smiled at the concierge, but you saw through it. You knew exactly what lay beneath that composed exterior.

The moment the elevator doors closed, he broke character, his hunger for you evident as he devoured you with a fierce passion. His lips claimed yours with insatiable desire, his hands framing your face before sliding down your neck and arms, eventually wrapping around your back. His palms pressed firmly against your bare skin, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped at the feel of his hard length against you, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging at the short, gelled strands. He groaned into your neck, kissing his way down the column of your throat. You sighed in pure bliss, completely lost in the sensation, when the elevator suddenly slowed.

Both of you pulled apart in an instant, eyes darting toward the control panel as the elevator dinged and stopped a few floors before yours. You scrambled to straighten yourselves, a rush of embarrassment hitting you before the doors pinged open.

An elderly couple stepped inside, offering polite smiles as they took their place in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice the older man glance over at you, his eyes twinkling with knowing amusement before he shared a silent look with Jensen.

It wasn’t long before you reached your floor. You slipped by the couple in a rush, giddy with excitement, mildly embarrassed, but mostly on fire with anticipation. Jensen fumbled with the key card a few times, the tension between you almost unbearable, until it finally beeped green. With a quick motion, he pulled you inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Once inside, everything slowed. The urgency of the moment softened, replaced by something deeper—adoration, longing. Jensen didn’t just look at you with hunger; there was tenderness in his gaze, as if he was taking you in for the first time all over again.

He stepped toward you, his touch gentle, almost reverent, as his large hands framed your jaw, tilting your head up so you were looking directly at him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and full of awe. His eyes roamed over you, drinking in the sight of you with a kind of reverence that made your heart flutter. Then, he kissed you again—this time softer, slower, each movement deliberate, building the connection between you until your hearts were once again pounding in unison, and your desires roared like a wildfire between you.

Clothes fell away without a second thought, forgotten in the heat of the moment, as you stumbled toward the bed. Skin met skin, warm and soft, sending jolts of electricity through your bodies. The sheets felt cool against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. Jensen hovered above you, showering your body with words yet to be said out loud. 

By the time he slipped inside you, moving slow and deliberate, you cried out, your body trembling with the electrifying connection. Jensen’s mouth fell open, his eyes locked on the expression of pleasure crossing your face as he eased out and slammed back in with a powerful thrust.

His rhythm never faltered, the deep, steady strokes hitting all the right places, overwhelming your senses. His lips found yours in a breathless kiss, his touch practiced and attentive, building the intensity with each passing second. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, as if this moment could stretch on forever.

Your bodies collided with a force that left you both gasping, each movement bringing waves of bliss that washed over you, leaving nothing but the sensation of being utterly consumed by him. And when the waves finally began to settle, it was only the steady sound of your breaths, as you floated back down to earth, your skin still humming with the aftershocks of the pleasure.

He littered soothing kisses across your flushed skin, your body heavy and languid from the bliss of your post-orgasmic release. You hummed in contentment, your lips seeking his as your eyelids fluttered closed, mouths moving almost lazily as he settled beside you, his weight warm and safe. In that moment, the world faded, and you drifted into a deep slumber.

⁃      

The sun was high in the sky when a hushed voice broke the peace.

"Shit." You heard the soft curse followed by the sounds of shuffling and clothing being hastily gathered.

You peeked an eye open, immediately noticing the empty side of the bed. Lifting your head, you saw Jensen hurrying around the room, panic evident in the way he scrambled for his clothes.

"Hey, what’s going on?" You asked sleepily, stretching your deliciously sore muscles, your voice thick with sleep.

Jensen snapped his gaze toward you at the sound of your voice, his expression softening as he took you in. His jeans were slung low on his hips, his torso still bare, giving you an enticing view of his broad shoulders and toned abdomen.

“I’m late for an interview,” he explained with a sheepish grin, his fingers quickly working to button up his pants. “Forgot to set my alarm. Got distracted.” His eyes flicked to yours as he finished dressing, and the smirk that tugged at his lips made your heart race.

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing pink, watching him pull on a plain black t-shirt and adjust the watch you’d given him for his birthday last month.

You sat up in the bed, watching him move around, ensuring he had everything, before he finally stopped and walked over to you. He caged you in with his arms on either side of your legs, his gaze intense and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m sorry I’m having to dip out so soon,” he murmured, his voice laced with regret. His green eyes were softer, sad even. “If I didn’t have to, believe me, I wouldn’t go.”

You pouted your lip, and his eyes darkened at the sight of it, the memory of your swollen lips wrapped around his cock, after waking him up for another round, flashed in his mind.

“I understand baby.” You kissed his stubbly jaw, then his cheek, toward his lips until he beat you to it and claimed yours first. It was rough, full of passion but over to quickly. 

He growled softly when he pulled away, stepping back, frustration building as he gathered his things. His phone buzzed in his pocket, an urgent message from his driver, and he cursed under his breath.

“Dammit, I really have to go,” he huffed, annoyance clear in his voice. It was moments like this—when his job pulled him in every direction—that he truly disliked his career.

Being a successful actor meant interviews, endless travel, and always being on the move. But you were always there to ease his worries, always understanding.

You were not in showbiz, far from it. You had a normal 9-5 job and somehow your paths crossed one night, and since then the rest was history. Jensen had done his best to keep you to himself, not out of embarrassment, he just valued yours and his privacy. 

It was a mutual agreement, only close friends and family knew, and you were happy to be his ‘little secret’, you liked to tease. You didn’t attend events together, it was rare you would even come to them at all, slipping in as some reporter or ‘close friend’.

Last night was one of the rare occasions you did and it had been a pleasant surprise. 

“I expect you naked and in bed when I get back.” He pointed at you in mock seriousness, and you choked on a laugh.

You heard his phone buzz once more and he sighed. “Okay, I love you and i’ll be back soon. Bye!” He rushed as he headed for the door, completely unaware of the weight of what he'd just said. It had felt so natural, so right, that he didn’t even realize he’d never said it before.

You froze; eyes wide. His words echoed in your mind as your heart hammered in your chest. The realisation hit you like a wave.

“Oh God, I just told you I loved you for the first time, and now I’m leaving. Fuck!” Jensen muttered, panic creeping into his voice. He began pacing by the door, clearly torn between wanting to stay and the looming pressure of his responsibilities.

You quickly gathered the sheet around your body, and with a soft laugh, hurried over to him, cutting off his frantic movements by leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your words sinking into him like the most comforting embrace. His eyes softened as you spoke, and for a moment, everything felt right.

“Now get your butt outta here,” you teased, slapping his firm muscle lightly for good measure.

The smile he gave you was warm, genuine, and it made your soul feel at ease. He nodded, a smile still playing on his lips, and pressed one more sweet kiss to your lips before he finally left, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Later that day…

Jensen sat across from the interviewer in a cozy, well-lit studio, a small smile tugging at his lips as he answered questions about Supernatural's success and the deepening storylines of Sam and Dean Winchester in Season 2. The conversation was easy, casual, and filled with fond memories from the set.

As the interviewer asked about the upcoming season's twists and turns, her eyes caught something on Jensen’s neck. A subtle mark, dark enough to be noticed under the studio lights.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile playful. “So, Jensen, I couldn’t help but notice... you’ve got a little something on your neck there. A souvenir from filming, maybe?”

Jensen’s hand instinctively reached up to touch the spot, and he rubbed at it absently, a bit sheepish. “Oh, uh… yeah, somethin’ like that,” he mumbled, a slight flush creeping up his neck. He looked away for a second, as if debating how to answer.

The interviewer chuckled lightly; her curiosity piqued as she called his bluff. “So does this mean you’re finally off the market?”

Jensen froze for a brief moment, his fingers stilling on his neck. His lips curled into a shy smile as he met her gaze, his usual confidence slipping into something more genuine, more sincere.

“Yeah,” he decided to be honest instead, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “Yeah, I am.”

The interviewer grinned, clearly delighted with his candidness, and the conversation thankfully moved on smoothly, but something in Jensen’s eyes lingered—a mix of contentment and something a little more private.

AN: I hope you all enjoyed this little one shot, obviously this is all fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Let me know what you think 💕 Feedback is much appreciated 💕

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