#like i genuinely think some of you just refuse to give it a chance

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Ok, question. I’m not a huge fan of the MC in Love and Deepspace. Does anyone feel the same way? Her personality is so off putting that I haven’t gotten that far into the main story line because of that. Considering all that. I want to create a few fanfics with an MC with a different and cooler personality. Her position would be the same though.

I’ll cite my evidence for why I dislike her so much (Disclaimer: I’ve seen spoilers and some of Rafayel’s cards):

We’ll start with Xavier. Poor Xavier. He’s one of my favorites. Unproblematic sleepy boi for the most part. How the MC treats him grates me, especially at the beginning.

The second time they meet (Chapter 3), they’re in an active danger zone. MC gets a sprained ankle and Xavier patches her up. Then, he takes out a ton of Wanders to clear the path for her. That’s very thoughtful. Afterward, MC starts to grill him on his identity. I’m not really sure why. I can only assume it’s a mix between him being mysterious about his identity and his insane skill (it’s called being private, but MC didn’t get the memo). She proceeds to go through a lengthy interrogation, only to come up empty.

This confuses me for multiple reasons. First, they’re in the middle of a danger zone. The priority should be getting out or clearing Wanderers, not figuring out his identity. She can ask her boss later. If she’s wary of Xavier because he’s not apart of UNICORN, then she should focus on getting out of there. She doesn’t fear him though. MC doesn’t focus on getting out, and she goes as far as sassing him later for not giving her more information. If you provoke an unpredictable and dangerous entity, there’s a good chance they’ll harm you. Consider all this, MC doesn’t fear him. Therefore, his identity doesn’t matter for her to survive. This means she wants private information from someone who clearly doesn’t want to give it. That’s rude af, especially considering he’s been helping her since he saw her. Her verbiage also rubs me the wrong way. It feels like she thinks she’s entitled to his private information. It’s ridiculous. MC has met him twice. Of course he’s not going to tell her sensitive intel. I wouldn’t either if someone acted like that toward me.

The next thing for poor Xavier was a text conversation. MC basically called him emotionless. I had to take a second to process that one. Everyone has feelings even if they don’t express them very much. I’m baffled that she insinuated that when she knows Zayne. MC has never said that about Zayne as far as I know, and he’s way less expressive than Xavier. It’s rude, insensitive, and immature to say that to someone.

Again with Xavier. There was a part where MC was given a proposal to help in obtaining some information in the main story. It was dangerous. Xavier stayed behind after her boss left. There were a few choices you could respond with. Obviously, I chose those favorable to Xavier. I click on “I want you as my hunting partner.” He was genuinely excited and happy that you wanted to work with him. Then MC adds that she views him as a tool. She’s objectifying him. That’s unacceptable and disrespectful to do to anybody, but to do it to someone with good intentions and has your best interest at heart is beyond upsetting. It was painful to watch the excited, happy expression on his face drop into one of dejection.

Let’s talk about Zayne. I’m baffled by how MC treats him. She goes against her doctor’s orders despite having a specific medical condition. She brushes him off and refuses to listen to him. It’s frustrating to witness. It makes my brain hurt. She has a job that requires extensive physical and dangerous activity. It’s important to take care of her health so she’s competent and safe. If something happens on the battlefield because MC didn’t take care of herself, she’s putting more people in danger. Instead of her teammates only having to worry just about themselves, they’ll have another burden to deal with. It seems extremely irresponsible.

Now, Rafayel… again, the MC baffles me. During the second meeting, she is incredibly aggressive. It’s the coral stone incident with his painting driving someone mad. She accuses Rafayel of malicious intent without any concrete evidence from what I understood. Although MC was right, she didn’t have any proof. As far as she knew, he doesn’t have a motive. That’s a huge issue for me. Most people don’t kill another without a reason. Also if the substance he used as paint was tainted, how should he know? He doesn’t specialize or deal with Wanderers everyday. It could very well be an accident. I find her actions and belief of immediately assuming the absolute worst and being aggressive about it as ineffective and off putting.

Next is when she finds out Rafayel is a Lemurian. Oh boy, I was in a tizzy about this scene. Now, I don’t particularly like how she treated him when he clearly felt awful. Her bedside manner was terrible, but it wasn’t a big deal. However, when the scales appear, MC touches them without permission. Rafayel is in a vulnerable state and has accidentally revealed a huge weakness that puts him in danger if others found out. When our merman boy wakes up, he tells her not to touch him. MC disregards that and continues to basically assault him. I understand that some people might find touching his cheek not a big deal, but it’s the consent that matters. He didn’t consent to her touch and she did it anyway. He was clearly uncomfortable and upset. Rafayel also had little way to fight back because of his weakened state. People might argue, “he wanted it.” That is a dangerous mindset to have. If it was applied to a real world case, then that could be making an excuse for a potential rapist. No means no. Even if he did desire it, she needs explicit consent.

Then she makes a… threat? comment? about how she could kidnap him and sell him to the highest bidder. That is not cool. Even if it’s a joke, it’s not funny. That is a real threat and danger to Rafayel, and she says it without hesitation. MC has no regard for his feelings about the situation. She says “I would never do that to you” at the end, but that doesn’t cancel out what she said earlier. MC proved she wasn’t safe emotionally. No wonder Rafayel has the sentiment of “all humans are greedy.” If I was faced with MC and the people who hound him to buy his art, I might be convinced too.

Overall, I have huge problems with the MC. Does anyone feel the same? I tend to specialize in write canon-based fanfics with twists and whatnot. Would anyone be interested? (I’ll probably do it anyway, but feedback is always appreciated) If I do, I’m changing MC’s personality 100%

[rainbowplussome]

coming out of the closet. i actually love community season 6

[silkythewriter]

Vox and alastor with an undeserving to be in hell reader!

Warnings!:non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!;I THINK TUMBLER ACTUALLY HATES ME (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)(｡•́︿•̀｡)it keeps not letting me edit my drafts, it’s happened like 3 times already this week alone!,…BUT ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA I REALLY HOPE YOY ENJOY!!!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Summary!: alastor and Vox x reader WHOs I. Hell for a minor sin/crime

❤️Written by silkythewriter do not steal or repost any other platform please! <3❤️

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

“Each time I find myself

Flat on my face

I pick myself up and get back in the race!”

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

When you first admitted what you did that counted as a “sin” he was flabbergasted! He thought they must’ve made a mistake. All be it one that was in favor since he got to be damned with you. But still!

Out of every monster known to man kind one who’ve committed acts that are despicable. You, one who can barely hurt a damn fly get sent with them?

At first he thought you were genuinely just joking. And he actually laughed! Like audible chuckled before waiting for the actual reason, which never came, and he soon realized you were being serious!

He always questioned why you use to refuse to kill, or at least scare people into respect. But then you explained how you refused to be like the rest of the sinners.

He utterly dumb founded you made it this far without spilling a bit of blood, at least for survival!

He becomes more overprotective as if he wasn’t before, good luck with that!

Cause now he knows your rules, he knows you won’t budge. Nothing would get you to change your mind. So he made sure to keep eyes on you 24/7, you may be nice, but the other sinners in this damned place definitely aren’t. And he knows that from experience

Would neither confirm or deny he put a small tracker in an item you carry every where.

This man has enemy’s as you’ve seen, demons, overlords, rival company’s, it’s a headache an a half for him. Not that he hates protecting you and your values! No never!, but the nerve of the people who think they even have a chance to lay a hand on you.

Gives you the lastest phone from his series, and yes he will text you and blow up ur phone up if he can see you through cameras around the city.

Even if you put it on silent he wouldn’t put behind himself to over load it and just show up on your phone screen.

Sometimes he’s just so confused how you can be so nice, or at worst passive to those who are poking at you. He thinks your a saint, even if you aren’t, an maybe you have a short temper still the way you hold yourself form blowing up is astonishing!

Sometimes he jokes about how if you were to go to Charlie you would be redeemed in a day. And at night sometimes he thinks about it and it scares him to know there’s a possibility for you to go where he will probably never be able to follow you too

He loves you to the depths and the crooks of hell, and he’ll be damned again if he lets anyone hurt you. He sees you as a small soft light in the red cover world, and he will do anything before anyone can put out that light.

He makes sure to keep a good distance between you and Val, a BIG distance.

He’s always on the edge about people around you, how can’t he? He can’t trust all these “disgusting and repulsive” sinners in hell around you. The thought alone cringes him out and stresses him.

He knows to some degree he isn’t exactly better then them sin wise, but he makes sure to do his best for you while infornt of you, he cares about his image, and wouldn’t be afraid to scare someone into discipline. BUT he will tone it down, just for you ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He has you under wraps, from the public eye in this case. As much as he’s one to show off his earnings, he loves you a little to much and knows well people will use you as a advantage. He loves to show off but you something just for him behind close doors for now before he can work something out

NOW if the public were to already know, he show off by showing how untouchable you were, demons knew better to approach you seeing as how fast he is to get rid of those stupid enough to try something.

Overall he respects your morals of not wanting to stoop as low as other sinners. But it dose make him more protective of you, your like a rare gem. There’s only a handful of people like you, and even then the numbers decrees daily, so he dose his most to make sure you safe and happy <3

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!🎙️✨Alastor✨🎙️!

Like Vix he humors it at first! Playing around with it before Laughing with his usual staticky voice as he stared at you with his unnerving smile. You guys quite literally stared at each other for a hot minute waiting for the other to say something.

It took you clearing your throat for him to realize you weren’t just trying to get a chuckle outta him.

And for the first time since you met him you caught a hint of confusion, making you explain that it was genuinely what you did.

He quite literally burst out laughing, you, someone who probably did something everyone did once is in this horrid place stuck with the horrid monsters ever! Just for that single act alone.

He will admit he found it a bit amusing how you refused to kill or lay a hand on anyone. Refusing to stoop to other people’s levels. Now that for him is pure gold of entreatment! He’s seen people like you, say the same exact thing then crumble when backed I to a Corner.

But for the first time, for all the decades he’s been damned here, he’s seen you stick to what you’ve stated. You were very much quite a spectacle!

Now finding new amusement, he decided to protect you, cause someone like you were sure to be a one time experience. Aside from loving you of course

Now with your name being accosted with him alone is a shield in if its self. Barely any one approached you, aside from those playing with their afterlives of course.

If you ever feel a looming shadow or presence it’s most likely one of his shadows. Like Vox he is gonna have his eyes on you almost always

Although he loves you he will play around to get a reaction out of you. All for the fun of it!, he knows you cringe when he talks about his cannibalism tendencies he just loves seeing your cute little face scrunch up!

Even though with all of that he is a gentleman and will make sure no one is to bother you.

He’s quite impressed you made it this far without getting killed, I mean of course you have him but if you arrived to hell and didn’t met him immediately he’d be quite impressed and surprised one you both do meet

He indulges himself in the horrible aspects of hell, with no remorse or shame what so ever either. So although he dose respect your wishes he won’t stop or calm down his tendencies.. （；へ：）but on the bright side he’ll make sure your far away or he goes off to other part of the city and do whatever he wishes. But your likely to see on the news either way… (￣▽￣💧

He dose enjoy the more civil and nice talks he has with you though! He finds it nice to take a break from all the crude talk on the street from other sinners and have a nice conversation!

Great listener let me tell you, he’ll happily sit there as you explain your day away! He honestly enjoys hearing you genuinely happy!, although his a chatter box himself but he enjoys listening to you more then anyone or anything else!

Watches you be nice to the most repulsive, and rude demon like it’s nothing. Even when disrespected you find a way to calm down the situation and nicely at that. Of course the demon doesn’t live long once their out of your sight, but still! He’s pleasantly surprised.

He finds it rather weird that your nice just for the sake of being nice but still it’s definitely a nice refresher from all the horrible people down in hell!

You catch his eye rather quickly with how you stick out from others (in a good way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ) and his eyes end up on you, you mainly have all his attention almost always if he isn’t off doing something!, your his light just live Vox he’ll make sure you’ll shine bright as ever and won’t go out.

Not everyone can catch it but in some rare moments he’ll be seen just staring at you as you happily talk away to Charlie. And for the smallest second you can see his unnerving smile turn into a soft smirk, eyes only on you and his mind filled with only you. This happens on the regular, it’s just he’s quick to cover up so no one sees!

Overall he loves you, even with some differences between your views he’ll still do his best to make you comfortable. Aside from teasing you here and there! But other then that he’ll protect you, your one of kind. And he loves having things no one else can.

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

AHHHH HELLOOOOO OH GORSH I MADE IT JUST IN TIME THIS TOOK SO LOBG TO DO CAUSE I KEPT HAVING TO DELETE AND REWRITE ON A NEW DRAFT AUGHHH I HOPE TUMBLR FIXES THIS BUG, BUT ANYWAY TYSM FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!\(^ヮ^)/’

[willowsnook]

an experiment (18+)

hey, could you write a story like the one you reposted of max ”popular“ but for lando? I absolutely loved the plot and never saw one like that before, but don’t feel pressured! thank you<3

A/N: Didn’t want to do the exact same plot but did the same kind of reporter x Lando vibe where they don’t like each other.

Lando Norris x Reporter!Reader

The media room was bustling with reporters, and your eyes were trained on Oscar Piastri as he answered the question you had just asked him, nodding along.

“So you’re not worried about team orders, then?” you asked to confirm, and he shot you a grin.

“We’re only 20 points apart, so no,” he replied, and you smiled, turning off your recorder. “Good to see you, Y/N. When are you coming to an overseas race?”

The other reporters around left as you stayed behind to talk to Oscar. “Not really sure. I’m mostly covering IndyCar this year. I’m only here today because our F1 beat reporter caught some kind of bug.”

You had covered F1 for ESPN last year and had a blast doing it, but the travel was a lot. When the chance came up to switch to IndyCar, you took it, wanting to stay in the U.S., where you were from. You did miss the F1 drivers, though. You had a good working relationship with all of them—well, except one.

You and Lando got off on the wrong foot last year, and things never really recovered. You asked him a simple question, and he bit your head off. Instead of folding, you challenged him and called him an asshole to his face, so things were a little testy after that.

You glanced up from your notes, keeping your expression neutral as Lando approached. “Norris.”

He sighed, barely looking at you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You ignored his tone, pressing the record button. “You had a solid P2 in practice. Do you feel confident heading into qualifying, or are there still issues you need to address?”

Lando shrugged, crossing his arms. “Car’s fine. We’ll see what happens.”

You blinked, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, you pressed on. “McLaren has been closing the gap to Red Bull in recent races. Do you think this track gives you a real opportunity to challenge for the win?”

He exhaled sharply. “You lot love asking the same pointless questions every weekend, don’t you?”

You kept your voice even. “I’m asking because fans and analysts are genuinely curious about McLaren’s trajectory. If you’d rather not answer, I can move on.”

Lando let out a humorless laugh. “Right, because you’re just here for the ‘fans and analysts’—not to pick apart every word I say.”

Your grip on your pen tightened, but you refused to take the bait. “I’m here to report, Norris. What I’m not here to do is argue with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.

You inhaled slowly, keeping your professionalism intact. “Alright. Final question—realistically, where do you see yourself finishing this weekend?”

Lando gave you a flat look. “Ahead of where you think I will.”

You held his gaze for a moment before calmly closing your notebook. “Noted. Thanks for your time.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Sure.”

You watched as he walked off without another word, then sighed, shutting off your recorder. Interviews with Lando Norris were always a test of patience—but at least this time, you hadn’t given him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Y/N!” You heard Carlos call out, and you instantly brightened. He was one of your favorites on the grid, and you truly missed him this season.

“Hi, Carlos,” you said, walking next to him as you were both leaving the pen. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you? Still beefing with Lando, I see,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” you muttered, and he let out a loud laugh.

“Please, the tension between the two of you—nothing like it,” he said, and you stopped short, giving him an incredulous look.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, and he grinned.

“There are literally three different bets I know of on when you guys will get together,” he said, amused, and your eyes narrowed.

“I don’t even cover F1 races anymore,” you said.

He shrugged, holding the door open for you.

"That doesn't matter," Carlos said with a mischievous grin. "The sparks between you two are undeniable. Even from across the pond."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're delusional, Sainz. There's nothing between Lando and me except mutual disdain."

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then why does he always ask about you when you're not around?"

You froze mid-step, turning to face him. "He... what?"

"Oh, yes," Carlos nodded, clearly enjoying this. "He tries to be subtle about it, but we all notice. 'Has anyone heard from Y/N?' 'Is Y/N covering this race?' It's quite amusing, actually."

You were about to argue when you caught sight of Lando across the paddock, talking to his race engineer. For a brief moment, his eyes met yours, and you felt a simmer of the electricity Carlos was talking about. Lando looked from you to Carlos and frowned, looking away.

“Whatever, Carlos. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, dismissing him as you headed to where your car was, thinking about what he said.

Lando was an asshole to you. That was a fact. But there were things that were off: he always took your questions first, his eyes lingered on you from across the room—almost always—and you could tell how irritated he was anytime you were talking casually with another driver.

Pair that with the fact that your boss had asked if you wanted to be moved last season to cover a different team, to which you replied no because there was just something so exciting about getting under his skin. You always had a thing for guys like him, and it didn’t really help that he was as hot as he was.

You were still irritated as you got back to your apartment and quickly texted your group chat, begging to have a girls' night out. Luckily, most of your friends were free, and one of them snagged a last-minute reservation at a place nearby.

A couple of hours later, you were two drinks in, laughing about one of your friend’s most recent Hinge horror stories. Smiling, your eyes wandered around the room, landing on a very familiar mullet.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered, and your friends looked at you and then over to where you were looking. Grace was the first to laugh.

“You two are truly like magnets. Carlos was right,” she said. You shot her a pointed look. They all knew about your disdain for Lando, and you had told them what Carlos had said, hoping they’d back you up about it being ridiculous, but they had all agreed with him.

At the attention of all your friends, Lando’s friends looked over at the table, some of them smiling widely when they recognized you. It didn’t take long for one of them to come sauntering over.

“Hey, ladies,” he said. “We’re about to wrap up and would love if you guys joined us at the next bar.”

“No,” you said at the same time that your friends said, “Yes.” You groaned, putting your head into your hands.

After paying your bill, you reluctantly followed your friends out and to the next bar. Lando and his friends were hanging out on the patio, and they were excited to see your group make it. Lando smiled at all your friends, introducing himself, but then narrowed his eyes when he got to you. You rolled your eyes, muttering that you needed a drink, and walked off.

You leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender's attention. The night air was cool on your skin, a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere inside. You couldn't believe your luck—or lack thereof. Of all the places in the city, Lando and his crew had to end up at the same spot as you and your friends.

"Fancy seeing you here," a familiar voice said behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Lando.

"I could say the same to you," you replied, keeping your eyes on the bartender. "Shouldn't you be resting up for qualifying tomorrow?"

Lando moved to stand beside you, effortlessly flagging down the bartender. "I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be covering the race?"

You finally turned to face him, crossing your arms. "I'm allowed to have a life outside of my job."

"So am I," he said, mirroring you.

"You sure about that?" you asked, tilting your head. "Because the way you act, it seems like your entire personality revolves around racing and being a pain in my ass."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. "You love it, though."

You scoffed. "I tolerate it."

He stepped closer, just enough that you could feel the warmth of his body in the cool night air. "You tolerate me? Interesting. Because from where I’m standing, you go out of your way to get under my skin."

You arched a brow. "Funny, I was about to say the same about you."

Lando’s gaze flickered to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "Maybe we just enjoy the game too much."

You refused to be the first to look away. "Or maybe you just hate that I don’t fall for your usual charm."

His smirk deepened. "Who said I was trying to charm you?"

"Oh, please," you scoffed, taking a slow sip of your drink. "The lingering stares? The petty jabs? The way you just so happened to end up at the same bar as me tonight?"

Lando leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I just like watching you get all worked up."

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of the way your pulse quickened. "Keep dreaming, Norris."

He smirked, stepping back just enough to let you breathe but not enough to break the tension crackling between you. "Sweet dreams, then, Y/N."

And just like that, he walked away. But before he could get far, you yanked his arm to turn him around and crashed your lips against his.

The kiss was electric, a charged collision of all the tension that had been building between you for months. Lando's surprise quickly melted away as he responded with equal fervor, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. The world around you blurred as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, you found yourselves staring at each other with a mix of shock and desire. The background noise of the bar slowly filtered back in, reminding you of where you were.

"Well," Lando said, his voice husky. "That was..."

"A mistake," you finished, even as your body screamed otherwise. You took a step back, trying to regain your composure. "An experiment."

"An experiment," he repeated. "And what exactly was the hypothesis?"

"I’m shocked you know that word," you said, avoiding the question.

"Y/N," he warned.

"A mutual friend hypothesized that the way we act toward each other was because of something other than hatred," you admitted, thankful that you were on drink number four now.

"And the conclusion?" he asked, tipping his head curiously.

"Inconclusive," you said, and his eyes flickered back down to your lips for a second.

"Probably need more testing," he said darkly, and your pulse quickened.

"Probably," you agreed, not breaking eye contact.

"Let’s go," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the exit.

"I just got my drink," you complained, but made no move to stop him.

His hotel was only a couple of blocks away. That was the only thing he said the whole walk over, but his hand gripped yours tightly.

By the time you made it to his floor, his pace quickened, like he didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind. The door opened, then closed, and suddenly you were pressed against it, his lips on your neck.

It lasted a minute before you gripped his hair, yanking his head back so you could press your lips against his.

The kiss was rough and demanding, both of you fighting each other with something other than words this time. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, and you lifted it up, watching his eyes widen at your bare chest.

Lando's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. His hands skimmed up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of your usual dynamic. "Shut up and kiss me, Norris."

He smirked, clearly enjoying your impatience. "So demanding," he teased, but obliged, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

Your hands roamed his body, tugging at his shirt until he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. The feeling of skin on skin was intoxicating, and you couldn't help the small moan that escaped you as he pressed you further against the door.

His hands trailed down from your waist, past the loose band of your pants and under your panties. He lightly traced over your clit before moving to where you wanted him. 

“So wet baby, are you sure you hate me?” He teased as you moaned out. 

“Positive,” you got out before he slipped a finger inside, finding your g-spot and massaging it. 

Your head fell back against the door as Lando worked his fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. But you weren't about to let him have all the control. With a sudden surge of strength, you pushed off the door, forcing him to stumble backwards towards the bed.

"My turn," you growled, shoving him onto the mattress. Lando's eyes widened in surprise, but the smirk never left his face as you straddled him.

"Thought you hated me," he teased, his hands gripping your hips.

You ground down against him, relishing the groan that escaped his lips. "I do," you breathed. "This is simply an experiment."

Your fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his hardening length. Lando hissed as you wrapped your hand around him, pumping slowly up and down. 

“Don’t tease,” he grumbled and you smiled wickedly at him, swiping your thumb over his head causing him to whimper. The noise took you both by surprise and you knew he was embarrassed. 

“I thought you hated me,” you threw his own words back at him. “But it sounds like you don’t.”

He started to argue back but you quickly shifted your hips, slowly sinking down on top of him. 

You both gasped as you fully pushed him inside you, the sensation overwhelming. For a moment, you stayed still, adjusting to the feel of him stretching you. Lando's hands tightened on your hips, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you.

"Fuck, y/n," he breathed, voice strained. "You feel amazing."

Instead of responding, you began to move, setting a slow, torturous pace. Lando's head fell back against the pillows, a low moan escaping him. You couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph at reducing him to this state.

"Look at me," you commanded, voice husky. His eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide. "I want you to see exactly who's making you feel this good."

Lando's lips curled into a smirk, even as his breathing grew ragged. His fingers dug harshly into your waist and he started to move you faster against him and you groaned out. 

Lando suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. The change in position drove him even deeper inside you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. His eyes locked onto yours, blazing with intensity.

"My turn," he growled, echoing your earlier words.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit spots that made you see stars. His thrusts were deep and purposeful, each one drawing out a moan or whimper from your lips. You clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built.

Lando's lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. The dual sensation of his mouth on your throat and his cock inside you was almost too much to bear. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his as he continued his assault on your pussy. 

"God, you feel incredible," he panted, his rhythm faltering slightly as he fought to maintain control. "So tight, so perfect for me."

Your back arched off the bed as he hit a deeper angle and your climax crashed over you. He sounded animalistic as his own release was triggered, spilling into you. 

The two of you breathed heavily for a moment looking at each other. Finally you pushed yourself off the bed and headed into the bathroom to pee and clean yourself off. When you returned, Lando was leaning against he headboard watching you as you put your clothes back on. 

“Leaving?” He asked.

“Yes,” you replied, finally looking at him. “This was just an experiment remember, it wasn’t real.”

“I remember,” he said, still watching. “You could stay.”

“I have never in my life stayed over for a one night stand,” you said. You don’t know why you told him that, he didn’t need to know anything about your personal life. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, shocked. 

“Very.” 

Lando's eyes widened at your admission. "Never? Not even once?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as you slipped on your shoes. "Never saw the point. It's called a one-night stand for a reason."

He sat up straighter, the sheet pooling around his waist. "But what about... I don't know, cuddling? Or morning sex?"

You couldn't help but laugh. "Cuddling? With you? Please."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm an excellent cuddler," he protested, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself hesitating by the door. "Look, Norris, this was... satisfying. But let's not make it more than it was."

Lando's expression sobered. "And what exactly was it, y/n.”

“An experiment,” you said again, leaving before he had a chance to ask what the result was. 

pt. 2 here

[fairestwriting]

Hi! Could I request Diasomnia with a reader who got injured but is too stubborn to let them help? Idk if you do platonic works but I would prefer this was. Romantic is fine tho :) have a nice day

i do write platonic relationships yeah! i wrote this one thinking of the reader more like their close friend but if someone wants to interpret it as a crush thing i think it could work too. i hope you have a nice day too <3

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

Malleus has enough common sense to not lose his mind over little scrapes, even though he’d honestly still want you to put a bandaid over it. But having mentioned that before, and receiving your very firm response that it was fine, he got the message that you might not like being fussed over.

So he mostly doesn’t voice these thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he does know certain things really are so minor that it won’t make that much of a difference if you try to care for it or not. Even in a human body, which is still something that’s sort of a mystery to him.

But, for that precise reason of him not fully understanding the human healing process, if anything bleeds, or looks noticeably red, he refuses to leave you alone about it. You can still see some hesitancy in his eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but it’s outweighed by worry. ”What if it gets infected, though? Are you sure you don’t want to at least bandage it?” He’s heard infections can get pretty serious, even if they’re very minor at first.

If all other arguments fail to reach you, he’ll ask if you could take care of it for his sake. Because he really hates to see you hurt, so could you just consider making sure it’ll heal faster? He’ll say that even over something like a nastier than average hand burn from cooking, and so honestly too — it’ll really put your stubbornness to test, regardless of how strong it is.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

His knowledge on human injuries is, frankly, a bit all over the place. It’s hard to remember what’s serious and what isn’t when he’s been around for so long, and gotten so many injuries of his own. Sometimes he unconsciously projects his own body’s recovery ability onto others.

Now, that doesn’t mean he’ll be any sort of neglectful of your injuries, though. On the contrary, he insists on personally patching you up every time he catches a glimpse of one. ”Hmm, you don’t want to bother with it? That’s okay. I’ll do it for you, just hold still.” He’s smiling as he talks, not even giving you a chance to properly say no before he’s already taking a closer look at the injury. His grip is too strong for you to pull away, even if it isn’t forceful at all…

When it comes to things like scratches, it’s more of a playful show of affection. He does know it won’t kill you, it doesn’t really need that bandaid and certainly not the little kiss he places over it after— He just wants to show that he cares for you. If you find it flustering that’s just a bonus. And yes, he will still do it even if you’re just friends, just in a more parental sort of way, unless you tell him it genuinely makes you uncomfortable.

If it’s more serious, the sort of thing that could actually cause an infection if not taken care of properly, he’s not as lighthearted. He does still joke a little about how you don’t have to worry about a thing because he’s here to care for you, but mostly to keep the mood light, especially if it looks like something he’d have to take you to the nurse to properly care for. Lilia wonders why you’re so stubborn about the whole thing, maybe it’s a matter of not wanting to seem weak? He hopes you’ll feel more at ease with him, eventually.

𐙚 Silver

To nobody’s surprise, he’ll likely be the most easygoing and knowledgeable of the bunch. There’s no species difference factor at play here, he’s very aware of what can be dangerous if left untreated and what can’t.

He does point out injuries and ask about them if he notices them, no matter how small, but it’s more of an expression of caring about you in general rather than specifically worrying that the bad scrape you got from tripping could make you deathly ill. It won’t really alarm him when you tell him it’s not a big deal, or it doesn’t even hurt. He’ll at most remind you to keep it away from dirt and then drop the subject.

Silver is very quick to recognize what could truly be potentially dangerous, though. Lilia taught him the basics of first aid when he was pretty young, and he later went on to study it in more depth as part of his training. The way he notices and points out things might even come off strange, because he’s usually so laid back in every aspect. Before you can dismiss him he’s already listing all the reasons why your “little scratch” is looking a bit off putting.

Still, he doesn’t want to pressure you, so it might create a bit of a dilemma in his mind when you keep insisting it’s fine. ”I’m being serious here, I’m not trying to annoy you. It’s not supposed to be this red. If you don’t want to see the nurse, at least let me help.” He’ll argue, and he can get pretty firm, but he’ll never cross the line into outright scolding you. You sound honestly careless to him, but he feels like there must be a reason for you to feel that way, and he doesn’t want to pry.

𐙚 Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is about as educated in the topic as Silver, and the difference between how your body recovers from injuries versus his is pretty minimal compared to people like Malleus or Lilia. But. Well. It is Sebek. You can’t really expect him to just let it go, if he likes you enough to consider you at least a friend. He’s just not someone who can be any sort of laid back with those he cares about.

Even though he knows so much about the theory, he does actually get worried if you hurt yourself. Yes, he’s aware that just because the cut you got from peeling some fruit bled a little bit, it doesn’t mean it’s going to get infected if you don’t clean and bandage it within an hour. But every body can be so different, even within the same (or similar) species! Besides, he’s read that poor immune system function can contribute to wounds getting easily infected— And how is he supposed to tell if your immune system is doing perfectly fine, if you’re so guarded even with small injuries. You’d try to hide it if you were feeling sick too, woldn’t you?

Even though he’s the youngest in this group, he’s the one who really comes off like some kind of… nagging parent or overprotective older sibling. Hell, he might even be younger than you, but he’s still pulling bandaids and antiseptic seemingly out of nowhere and scolding you for not taking care of yourself. “You were already careless enough to get hurt, and now you want to just leave it like that?!” He balks at your insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, he didn’t have to do anything or even worry, you’ve dealt with things like that before— Yeah, he’s not listening to any of that.

He might end up overstepping your boundaries a bit in the process, but he really does mean well. It just makes him anxious to see you dismissing your own safety like that, and that makes it hard to try to understand your perspective, whatever it is. You know him well enough to be aware that all the fussing just happens because he cares, and not because he’s genuinely trying to make you feel bad for getting hurt and not wanting to accept help with patching yourself up. If it does end up upsetting you, he’ll be understanding if you bring it up later.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[insanity6666]

Molten hearts

You receive a gift from Vulkan, and you panic. (A little)

“Vulkan? You called for me?” You spoke up as you entered his workshop, the words had taken a moment to form as you had to consciously keep from adding ‘Lord’ before his name. Like breaking an old habit. You tried, though, because he had asked and always seemed a little sad whenever you addressed him title first.

You didn’t expect the large man with glowing fiery eyes to be capable of the ‘sad puppy’ look, but you also didn’t expect to be chosen as one of his personal remembrancers, let alone to become his friend.

‘At least,’ you think as you wander deeper inside, nodding at a few of Vulkans sons as they mingled in the workshop as well, ‘I’m fairly certain we’re friends. Probably.’ It would certainly be presumptuous, but more than anything it would be embarrassing if you turned out to be wrong. It didn’t help that he was kind and polite to everyone, but you liked to think you got special attention sometimes.

The thought made your cheeks warm, but the heat of the forge covered that up nicely. Thankfully. You breathed in the heated air, tasting the ash and the tinge of metal, the smell of molten alloys and sweat that seemed to fill the room more than air. You sensed it before you even caught sight of who you were looking for, towering over his sons like a great burning mountain. But instead of the terrifying aura of power and sense of impending, inescapable death, it was comforting. Like nothing could touch you as long as you stayed close, not danger, not cold, not even the cruel words of others.

“Ah! There you are.” His already glowing eyes seemed to burn all the brighter when they caught sight of you. “I didn’t pull you from anything, did I?” He asked, seemingly genuinely concerned. You smiled up at him, his concern for you warming you more than the forge ever could.

“I was just finishing up when you called,” You said, giving a customary bow. He looked disapproving, but you gave him a cheeky grin. He may be happy to waive social etiquette, but you refused to forgo at least the basics. Especially because he is, technically, your boss and most definitely your superior in all other things.

“I’m glad, I would hate to be scolded for interrupting your work again. You are a terrifying force when agitated.” he spoke, a rumbling laugh blooming from his chest. You gaped at him, straightening up and crossing your arms, formality forgotten.

“You scared me! I was handling molten glass! You of all people should know how dangerous that is.” You huffed, more flustered than irritated. You remembered when he had entered your own workshop, back on your home planet, and had managed to sneak up on you while you had melted the sand and minerals to attempt to create something new. You had been so absorbed in your work you hadn’t noticed the giant stranger standing far to close just behind you. You fell deeper into the memory, sinking into it like a soothing bath.

So, when you had turned, you had been rightfully startled, and nearly caused a small fire and did cause you to lose what you had been working on. He hadn’t even had a chance to apologise before you had all but verbally ripped his throat out for being so careless, risking not only the safety and well-being of both of them, but ruining your project and causing damages. As you had to wait until the glass cooled enough for you to clean up and had to go through your safety checks, that had essentially ended your work day, which had cut through your good mood quicker than any weapon ever could. You had been in the zone, too!

It took far too long until you paused long enough to realise the person you were eviscerating was not only a monolith of a man, but also the hero of your home system and an incredibly powerful and important person within not only your own system, now, but also the entire Imperium they had recently joined. You had expected to be reprimanded, or killed, or suffer some terrible punishment for daring to speak out against him.

But Vulkan, as he had introduced himself some time later, only apologised. His head bowed not only because he had to, to better look at you, but also from the proper abash of a well-earned scolding. He looked truly ashamed of himself, and implored that he must do something to make up for it. Figuring he wasn’t going to kill you, but unsure what to do, you said the first thing that came to mind.

‘Help me clean up this mess’ You had told him, and to your surprise he hadn’t said a word against it, only nodding eagerly and together you set to work. As you instructed him on the proper procedures of cleaning up glass, he had begun to ask questions about your craft, which you had happily answered. It hadn’t taken long before the mess was cleaned and you had worked through the paperwork. To your mounting surprise, he had stayed, and invited you to a meal as an apology. When you had tried to argue, he had already helped clean up the mess, he had simply shaken his head and spoken with all the seriousness that one would speak for battle.

“That was simply righting my mistake for the damages, I owe you a proper apology for scaring you.” You hadn’t really understood, but had agreed. A few weeks later, he had asked you to join his people as a remembrancer -an artist and recorder of deeds, as you understood it- and shortly after you had your own room and workshop aboard his ship.

You rose from the memory as his laugh echoed through the room, his head tilted back, showing his throat as a bead of sweat trailed down the cords of muscle and tendons, following the collarbone before disappearing from view underneath his tunic.

Quickly, you forced your gaze up to his face as he returned his own to you, and you pouted. 

“For someone you consider so scary, you seem to take great pleasure in teasing me.” You said, grabbing a hairclip and moving to put your hair up. You had let it down on the walk here, but now you realise you should have left it up.

“While I would dare not try to displease you, I can admit I admire your strength of spirit, and the fire in your eyes that does not dim in my presence.” He spoke the words gently, and you let the smile bloom on your lips even as you lower your eyes, choosing to focus on securing your hair rather than the flutter of your heart. You knew, had seen time and time again, how baseline humans and even his own sons had recoiled and withered when standing before him. You seem to be one of the few who had little to no issue treating him like… well, a person. A powerful person who is technically your superior, yes, but a person nonetheless.

“You flatter me.” You say, lowering your hands from your hair and looking up at him again. So busy you were with your hair, you didn’t notice his expression before he managed to school it into something cooler and calmer. “Now, is there a reason you called? Or did you just miss me?” You teased, causing a bright smile to light up his face, and breathe out another soft laugh.

“And missing you is not reason enough?” He returned, before his smile turned bashful and he turned to pick up a simple, flat wooden box from the table he stood near. “But to answer your question, I made a gift for you. A token, to express my admiration for you and gratefulness for your company.” He held out the box, and you couldn’t blame the forge room for the heat in your cheeks. 

Feeling flushed and an unexpected rush of timidness, among something else, you carefully reach out to accept the gift. The box itself was plain, but well made, stained and polished to a shine. You idly trace along the edge, sending a quick, grateful smile up towards him before you opened to see the contents-

And froze.

Sitting, nestled innocently in velvet, was a circlet. A thick gold band, a complete circle that would sit perfectly upon your head, over your hair. A mix of Nocturnean style and your own cultures, a perfect balance. A beautiful blend. While the overall design was simple, it was still ornate, the patterns, jewels and inlays were exquisite and made more opulent than anything any of your people -not even the royal family- could ever dream of possessing. 

It was also a symbol of marriage.

‘Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.’ you chanted as you stared down at the offering. Tilting the box slightly, as though changing the perspective will somehow turn it into anything other than what it clearly was, but all it did was make it catch the light and make it look even more wondrous. ‘Don’t. Panic.’

“Is it not to your liking?” Vulkan’s voice, usually so calm and warm and strong, was now quiet and fragile. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was afraid.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide as you looked at him, and saw his expression. The way his expression fell... The disappointment was bad enough, but you swore you saw something akin to heartbreak in his face.

‘Panic.’

“No! That’s not-” You rush to comfort, to abolish those thoughts, the words scrambling just as you did, stepping forward to rest a hand on his forearm. “I just- this is…” Stars above, do you tell him? That he had essentially asked for your hand? No, not ‘essentially’. He had. By your own culture. Not his. You know that, but does he? You don’t think so. He didn’t say the words, or court you, or anything like that. Not even by his own culture, or the Imperial Way, as you had checked in idle curiosity (and no other reason) and by all accounts this did just seem like a genuine gift. 

“I’ve never been given… anything like this.” You explain, looking down at the gift. Wondrous and damning. “You’ve caught me quite flustered. I don’t… I don’t have the words for how special this is.” You look up at him again, and you let a genuine smile lift your lips as you shove all the implications into a corner of your mind to be dealt with later. It’s just a gift. Just a brilliant, lovely gift with implications only you know. 

“It’s perfect.” You admit, far too close to being an acceptance of the proposal. If anyone from your home had heard you, they would immediately assume (correctly, in any other circumstance) that you had accepted his offer and were now engaged.

‘Though…’ you look down at the cause of your internal struggle, lifting your hand from Vulkans arm to trail a finger along the velvet near the circlet, not even daring to touch it. ‘This could be considered both an engagement circlet and marriage diadem in the same breath.’

You shove that thought away along with the others, and the quickly piling realisations, implications and possibilities of what is happening right now. You suppose you will just have to let your heart quietly break after this, but for now you can manage.

“It is?” He perks up, and the joyous smile he gave you… you decided then that it was worth it. “I have seen many of the women of your planet adorned in similar headwear, I was worried it was not to your style, as I had never seen you wear one.”

His words confirmed your suspicions. That confirmation was accompanied by the shattering of your hope, and your heart. Foolish and traitorous, both.

He stepped forward, closing the small space you had managed to gain with your retreat. Carefully, gently, he reached over your shoulder and felt a small tug on your hair as he removed the hair clip you had used to put up your hair. Then, delicately, with something you could almost call reverence, he plucked the circlet from its bed and softly placed it upon your head. You stood frozen, unable to wrangle your emotions into some form of compliance as your mind reeled at his actions and their unspoken meaning. A meaning only you knew, only you understood, and so the meaning was nothing even as your heart cried otherwise.

“I was worried it wouldn’t fit,” He hummed, looking over his work and you in equal measure, before smiling. “It suits you. You look,” you swore he almost paused, “beautiful.”

“It sits well.” You said quietly, your whole existence buzzing and numb all at once, “It’s perfect.” You say again, sealing your fate.

“Perfect.” He agreed, with a soft smile. You returned it, and hoped that you hid both the awkwardness and the pain in the knowledge that his actions and his intent were far disconnected to what you knew and associated with the gestures and words.

“I have nothing to give you!” You say, with a sudden, horrified realisation. It is also a relief, as it is a change in subject and something she can focus on instead. Vulkan, the bastard, only chuckled at your panic and rested a hand on your shoulder, though it practically engulfed it.

“No need. I made this with no intention of anything in return.”

‘What you said could be either incredibly romantic or incredibly rude, you know’ you think, almost delirious with the whiplash of emotions and heel-point-turns of the mood in the last few minutes. You give a slight scowl, which only makes his own smile widen.

“Hm… well, I shall endeavour to make you something in turn, regardless.” You declare, practically daring him to refute you, all the while ignoring the implications of your own words, determined to remain friendly and behave properly. You can break down later, in the privacy of your room. For now, you just need to get through this.

“If that is what you wish, then I shall look forward to whatever you give me.” He said, and stepped back. It gave you breathing room, whether he realised it or not. Either way, you were grateful. 

“On that note, I really should get back to work…” You say the words, but make no move to actually leave. You knew that they were fast approaching another conflict, and despite feeling off kilter with everything, you were loath to leave your Primarchs company so quickly.

“I should as well.” Vulkan agreed, also making no move to actually return to work.

‘What are we, teenagers?’ You thought, biting back a chuff of laughter.

“How busy will you be?” You ask, taking the initiative. He gave his workbench a considering look at your words, a considering hum rolling from him.

“If all goes well, I should be finished in time for a late last-meal.” He declares, looking a little disappointed. You masked your own, and gave a nod. War waits for no one, and you will not be so selfish as to make him choose between preparing for battle and keeping you company, would not let your own petty desires risk not only the success and safety of the Primarch, but his sons and the people they seek to save as well.

“Then how about a drink afterwards? If you are not too tired.” You offer instead.

“For you? Never.” He declares, but you raise a brow at him.

“A bold declaration. You would risk your health right before battle? Sleep deprivation is nothing to shrug at.” You warn, your concern for him warred with the joy that he would be willing to risk it to spend time with you.

“You forget, my dear, that I am a Primarch. I can stay awake for days without any loss to my mental faculties. And you did offer.” He retorted as he leaned against his workbench and crossed his arms.

“At your discretion, I would not have you risk your own well-being just to indulge me.” You counter, a grin breaking your attempt to be stern. He gave another of his sweet, deep chuckles, and straightened as he stepped forward. For one mad moment, you thought he was going to reach out to you. For what, you daren’t imagine and pretend to have no idea as to why.

“Very well. I promise that if I am tired, I shall send you a message to reschedule. Agreed?” He asked, and you rewarded him with a bright smile and nodded your agreement.

“Of course. I shall hopefully see you later, then.” You stepped back to give a bow, careful of the new weight adorning your head. Once you straightened, you gave a quick wave as he offered his own farewells, and you calmly walked to the door.

You walked, calmly, out into the halls, through the corridors, down the passageways, and calmly, calmly, walked into your private quarters. You focused on locking the door. Then, you turned and walked over to your desk. Carefully, calmly, take the diadem off your head. And carefully, calmly, put it back into its velvet bed. You took a few steps to your bed. Calmly, calmly, sat down. 

You grabbed a pillow.

And screamed into it.

______________________________________________________________

A gift for @kit-williams, @beckyninja, @bleedingichorhearts, @jaghatai-khock, @pluvio-tea, @moodymisty, @thethronezone and all the others who got me into the 40k romance and AU part of tumblr. You bastards.

[101maverick]

Hi! Saw your newest post, so thought I might as well try to help with your writers block :)

How about headcanons of the bat boys dating a broke reader? Alternatively, batboys x bimbo!reader?

Hope this helps you get out of your slump, enjoy the rest of your day and take your time if you ain't up for it :]

A/n: Tysm for the request! Hope you enjoy :)

Dick Grayson

Being resident in Bludhaven, he's financially independent and certainly not rich. He refuses to depend on Bruce.

This means he hasn't got any trust fund money to give you, but he'd definitely help you out any way he can

He'd buy you practical gifts as well as normal ones whenever he's got the chance, and if you're living together the way you divide the living costs would definitely be proportional to your spending power

Dick isn't rich but he's not broke either: the average annual salary for cops in the us is roughly $66.000, but he owns the two-bedroom apartment you live in so the only thing you guys need to pay is taxes and bills, no rent to worry about. You're also not at home for most of the day, seeing as he works as a cop and you have your own job that takes up a good chunk of your day, so the electricity bill isn't very high.

I personally think Reader would not enjoy not having to pay for anything seeing as the money comes out of Dick's own pocket, so she'd at the very least insist on paying for groceries and helping out more in the house with laundry, dishes, cleaning et cetera, to even out the responsibilities as much as possible

He'd support you as much as possible if you're getting a degree, he'd be like your own personal cheerleader, and after you get it he'd organise this huge surprise graduation party for you and then help you get a job in the field of your degree

like if you became a lawyer he'd hook you up with some judges/attorneys he knows aren't corrupt and get you a job in their law firm (paid intern of course, after having worked so hard you want to make it yourself in the world)

I think you two would have tons of fun at the thrift! You wouldn't feel bad about him insisting to spend his money, and you would have the best time just perusing the racks and laughing at all the insane stuff you find plus trying on some genuinely nice clothes

One thing he splurges on though is making sure you have a state-of-the-art home gym, in fact that is why he buys your building's basement and equips it with every work-out machine under the sun plus a trapeze and equipment to practice a ton of other dynamic sports of the sort

————————————

Jason Todd

He's a crime lord so it's safe to say this dude is filthy rich

He obviously doesn't show it though and apart from having a lot of it as an emergency fund for when he needs to defend himself in gang wars I believe he anonymously donates the rest to charities

I go with the canon of Jason being catholic so I believe he gives to the Church, but it could obviously be something else like one of the many Wayne foundations (cause as much as he holds a grudge against his father he knows he's obviously not corrupt and actually helps people)

apart from this he definitely still has a lot of money

He'd refuse to see you struggle financially

He's been through that, he knows how awful it is and does not hear no for an answer when he goes to hand you insane amounts of cash

If you live together then he makes sure to get a nice apartment in the respectable parts of town, blending in with the rest of the neighbourhood to make sure the location is safe and as untraceable as possible

He handles everything and refuses to even let you pay for groceries, insisting that you concentrate on your studies and not worry about having to sustain yourself

To him you guys being a team means that you hold each other up any way you can, and you already support him immensely just by being by his side and loving him, so to him this is just doing his part and supporting you (on top of loving you like crazy of course)

One thing he'd do is make sure your house has enough space to host an insane amount of books though

On this topic I think he'd absolutely spoil you with book hauls, just taking you to every book store you can find and buying piles and piles of books

I'm talking those beautiful gold-leaf covered editions of centuries-old classics, and it doesn't matter if you already have the stories per-se in your library cause it's the edition that matters in this case, ya know?

Like sometimes you want to feel regal and distinguished reading the gold-lined hardcover Commedia, sometimes you want to feel quirky with your penguin edition Jane Eyre, other times you just want to embrace your inner sewer rat and read Macbeth from the shitty mass-produced paperbacks and Jason acknowledges and embraces it

————————————

Tim Drake

Tim, like Jason, is also filthy rich, in virtue of being the owner of Drake Industries and the representative C.E.O. for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises

You'd both live in his Nest, and given the horrendous amount of electricity it consumes it's all already paid for by his company so no need to worry about that

He would only accept "payment" for everything he does for you in the form of you making sure he goes to sleep at decent amounts of time when he's elbow-deep in a case (and tons of love, obviously)

Like Jason, he'd just hands you wads of cash

EXCEPT! He does it for the most mundane stuff. Timothy Jackson Drake is a nepo baby, no way around that. Sure, while he spent his time stalking Batman and Robin through the rougher parts of Gotham he learnt street-safety 101, but he always carried anything he needed for those nightly strolls in his backpack, and he never really learned the real value of money. "$2.70 for a small bottle of water? Sounds reasonable!" is his thought process to this day.

You two would often have these moments of 'culture shock', with Tim slowly discovering how much things should cost every time you two go out to run errands together and you discovering about the insane things the rich buy and do just because Tim decided to recount some childhood stories/told you about some stuff socialites did ad a gala

Since I think Tim's love language is quality time I think he'd take you on these absurd trips whenever possible, that to you are to absurd places but to him it's a very normal trip because "my parents always went there twice a year? It's an extremely normal vacation spot?" Meanwhile it's the Maldives or a private island in Greece or something

This being Tim you also HAVE to have a state-of-the-art phone, with tons of features you will never need to use since you're a civilian but it makes him more at ease, knowing that if the need arises you have the ability to disarm a bomb with the click of a button on your display

————————————

Damian Wayne-Al Ghul

Oh he'd absolutely refuse to have you living anywhere but a castle

It'd take convincing for him to have you living in anything less than a penthouse in the diamond district

He's not against the idea of you working, but he doesn't think that it's necessary for you to slave away at a minimum-wage job while you could be spending all your time in luxury while studying for your degree

After you get your degree he'd help you find a job at one of the most important places for your specialisation, pulling the needed strings just to make sure your resume isn't overlooked (nothing more, he's of the idea that his partner should be strong, plus he believes you to be extremely capable and so thinks that pulling strings to get you the job would be a disservice and an offence to you)

Absolutely spoils you with gifts, and by that I mean: clothes, jewellery, if you like cars he'll buy you a carpark, anything you look at for more than two seconds he'll buy

Damian's way of showing love is through gestures, so you rejecting his gifts would hurt him and he'd take it to mean that you are rejecting him/are unsatisfied with him

Like with Tim, you both would have "Culture shocks" over stuff like the worth of money, lifestyle and stuff like that

Because Damian is basically a royal (or at the very least was raised like one, I don't know what's happened to the LoA in current canon) I think he'd lowkey try to get you an armed guard for when you need to go out as a sign of love lol

"Damian I've been feeling watched while going out as of late" "Don't worry Beloved, that's just the armed guard" "Oh ok-I'm sorry what?!"

Things like anniversaries, birthdays and big events are celebrated in the most lavish settings but in a private way still, like he'll absolutely spoil you and take you to visit this super famous castle for your birthday, matter of fact he'll rent it out for the occasion

For real he does this because when you're alone he can be himself and he loves doing that when you're both experiencing something that makes you happy-- But! Those are head canons for another time hehe >:)

————————————

Bruce Wayne

I believe he's the only one in the bat family who knows the worth of money while having being rich his entire life (ya know, having to use all the disguises he does and going undercover as a normal person a lot of the time)

He definitely offers you a job at Wayne Enterprises, and if you accept he agrees to keeping your relationship under wraps so that no one will start saying that you 'sleep with him for the job'

On that topic if the relationship ever goes public and people start saying that, he will fire them without hesitation

And if it's business partners joking with him about it, he won't stop dealing with them for the sole purpose of covertly crippling their reputation so badly they'll have no choice but to sell their companies to him

You obviously live with him at the Manor, and he insists that everything be paid for by himself only (ya know, richest man in New Jersey and probably the world soooo....)

Bruce is really bad with his emotions, he tends to really repress them whenever he deems them something he's not 'worthy' of feeling or whenever he perceives he has failed at something or failed someone, so the mere fact he confessed his feelings towards you and that he doesn't shun your love is a huge step forward for him. This doesn't mean that he's good at expressing his emotions when he doesn't repress them though, especially not with words.

This is why his main love languages are gift-giving and acts of service, because he shows his love through actions.

Gift-giving as an important love language for him happens because he's very busy both during the day and the night, so sometimes your schedules just don't align or he even has to go off-world with the Justice League and stuff, so he 'makes up' those missed acts of service with lavish gifts

Usually this could be seen as 'throwing money at the problem and hoping it fixes itself' but the thing is that Bruce's gifts are pretty much always spontaneous. He's out and about in his public persona or patrolling as batman, and he sees a storefront with something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you would like. The next logical step is obviously buying it for you as soon as possible and getting it to the manor. Because Bruce is really bad at showing it but the people he loves are always at the forefront of his mind (when he's not being an asshole and repressing his emotions as if the fate of humankind depended on his ability to give his family the cold shoulder and communicating only in grunts and sighs)

———————————— A/n: this was so fun! I love writing head canons because there is no pressure with story flow and how much description and feeling you're putting into it, it's very similar to sharing your thoughts with a friend and that's what endears the format to me so much :) Hope you enjoyed! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3 Love you all🩷

Total word count: 2009

[onlyrains]

𝓽𝓲𝓷𝔂 thing | 𝓵𝓱𝓼

relationship is scary; what if your partner is too tall for you to kiss them?

“morning…?” you greeted confusedly at your boyfriend in your kitchen when you just freshly out of a shower.

“morning—you finished already?” his wide back still facing you, unbothered.

yesterday, he called and said he was gonna take you two to have brunch somewhere. but here he was, busy in your kitchen with sleeves rolled up to his firm elbow.

a chopping sound filled the room as you approached him. “aren’t we going somewhere, hee?”

he dropped his knife and spun quickly. “god, ’m sorry, i forgot to tell you. it's just… i watched some recipe videos last night and i think i’m going to try that out today…” his voice disappeared at the end. “is it okay…?”

you gasped. “seriously?” you were genuinely surprised. he was never show an interest in cooking before and preferred to just take a delivery or going out if you both were feeling it.

so today was the first time and you believed it will be written in history.

you glanced at his scattered groceries on the counter. “it is okay, boo. it's even better that you are one who cooks for me. wow.” you give him a wide smile then cupped his face.

he scratched his head, flustered when his favorite pet name came out. “we still could go if this fail, you know. i’m not sure either,”

you chuckled. “have some trust in yourself, can't you?” you tiptoed, tried to give him a peck on the lips but you kissed his chin instead.

you couldn’t reach his lips. that was a new fact for you too. you just realized he was always crouched down or the one who initiate a kiss. you almost hit your own head, couldn’t believe you missed such a crucial thing in your relationship.

he was laughing his ass off when he saw you pout and refused to see his face by hiding it on his chest, embarrassed.

still chuckling, he hugged you and rubbed your back, assuring. “it's okay, baby. it's cute.” actually, he also just noticed how your height just fell around his chest, not even his neck, not even his shoulder.

how could he not noticed his dear girlfriend is so tiny? well, he knew you were smaller than him, but he didn't know that you were basically tiny? even when he hugged you like now, your figure was completely disappear in his body. how could he not noticed that earlier? oh, maybe because he was too busy control his composure everytime he's around you, right?

“don’t mock me.” you mumbled.

“eh? i’m not? why do i have to mock about it? it's so cute, baby, trust me i love it.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “i can't. you can be childish—”

“says a child—AW! baby, your pinches is someth—”

“but i’m not a child!” you sulked.

“okay, okay.” he grabbed both of your hands in his. “from now on, i’m going to love you like my own child, baby.” he kissed top of your head ran around the kitchen as you chased him.

he was glad he canceled the plans for brunch at a fancy restaurant he found a few days ago. otherwise, he wouldn’t been able to enjoy this stupid moment with you after a week of non-stop working. he was thankful your laugh could literally heal his mind and soul to stay sane.

the brunch he promised was still happened tho it would be more realistic to call it a lunch. thanks to him for always bring your height up every chance he got. don’t get it wrong tho, it wasn’t a bad thing. he loved it, he really did.

it gave him an instant ego boost whenever he noticed you need to looking up fully when you look into his eyes. even sometimes, it made him thinking about the other thing that might put him in an advantageous position.

you were still sat in your dining table when he suddenly towering you after doing the dishes.

you tilted your head with anticipation. “what?”

“nothing.” a smug smile appeared on his lips.

“still haven't giving up?” you asked then stood up on your chair. now you were the one towering him. “what now?”

he wrapped his arms in your waist. “it's nothing, really.”

you rested your hand on his shoulder and finally pecked his lips in a sudden move. you felt his arms tensed up in your waist.

“baby, that's dangerous, y'know.” he whined, his voice low.

you smirked. maybe you both have a same thought today.

taglist [open]: @llvrhee

[revelboo]

Hello our dearest Revel!!! I hope you’re doing well and feeling a bit better, I remember a few days ago you said something about feeling sicky icky. Anything fun going on right now??? :) When you get the chance, can we maybe get some more of peepaw Kup?? I fucking love that old man a very normal amount, I promise 🤣 If you aren’t in the mood to write for him, though, then maybe some Swerve or TFA Ratchet??? I’m now seeing a trend in my faves lmao… Endearingly sweet and pathetic or Old Crotchety Man ™️

Sure!

Don’t You Pt 3

Kup x Reader

• Looking up at a thud and a burst of growling, alien rumbling, you stumble to your feet and gape as Kup drags in-something with Springer on his heels fussing from the sound of his alien gibberish. Whatever that thing is, you’re very glad it appears to be dead. It’s like if a squid had violet, angry sex with a deer. And Kup’s looking up at you, chewing on that metal cigar of his. “Hope you’re hungry, kid. Should last you a while.” Oh. Oh, no. But he looks so genuinely proud and his plating is scratched up from that thing, so you can’t just refuse. Even though you want to.

• Working his cygar as your mouth opens and closes, before you offer him an almost frantic smile. “Oh. Great. Thank you.” You don’t sound that grateful, though. Almost look a bit green. Hears Springer’s disgruntled venting about the mess, the thing’s blue-black blood leaving a wet trail through the ship. “I can’t eat raw meat,” you add, clasping your hands together worriedly. Picky, little thing. Shaking his head in amusement as you wander closer to the edge of the table he’d left you on, he retrieves a knife and starts sawing through the thick hide to get at the muscle underneath.

• Paling as he drives the blade into the squid-deer’s belly and saws upward, as soon as it’s slick, gray entrails pour out, you’re gagging and running for the far side of the table. Retching. “You good, kid?” He calls out as you shudder, unable to look. But you can smell it and really wish you couldn’t. How are you supposed to eat that? And the wet sound of what he’s doing isn’t helping. It seems to take forever for him to butcher that thing, hearing the old bot humming to himself as he works like he’s enjoying this. “Ain’t gonna learn anything like that. You need to know how to feed yourself if you’re going to survive.”

• Primus, help him as you make gagging noises and pointedly refuse to look at what he’s doing. Giving you a pass this time because you’ve been through a lot, but he’d been serious. You need to learn so you’re not dependent on the kindness of others, because you can’t count on that. “I don’t think I can do that,” you mutter, voice strained. No confidence in yourself. He’ll need to work on that, too. Make a little wrecker out of you, but he has a feeling he’s going to have a lot of work to do. Until then, he can protect you until you can protect yourself. Primus knows if he takes his optics off you for even a klik, everything on this world is likely to try and eat you.

• Can’t make yourself look as he cleans up. Glancing over when the smell of cooking meat fills the air. And it doesn’t smell as awful cooking at least. Someone’s dragged the carcass off somewhere, but there are black smudges on the floor still. But your stomach growls at the promise of food and your attention shifts fully to Kup. Watching him roasting the meat over an open flame with a slight frown. Trying his best to take care of you even though he doesn’t have to, just like he’d saved you when you’re nothing to him. “You can. Just need to be taught,” he says, metal cigar bobbing between his denta. Sounding so confident, but he’s the only one. A plant had nearly eaten you. No, your best bet of survival is clinging to Kup with a death grip and refusing to let go.

Previous

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[aayakashii]

FINALLY IT'S ALMOST OVER but, I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse @cupcakesmoothie

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine's Day in Obscuary

Ed

how does he show affection?

You will never know true privacy ever again, and that is not an exaggeration. He simply latches onto you and never lets you go. He WILL be staying in your room whether you allowed it or not, he WILL link his arms with yours whenever you're walking somewhere and he WILL complain about the harsh sunlight everyday (you tell him he could just stay in Obscuary and you'd visit him later, but he refuses, saying human life is fleeting so he can't afford to waste a single second without you. Good luck).

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He likes them, but his version of a hug is draping himself over you in a dramatic fashion – whether it's when he's "feeling unwell" or when he just wants all your attention to himself, Ed leans all of his body weight onto you, hands squeezing and petting everywhere he can reach. You have to pry him off of you when you two are in public, lest you want some Frostheim student clutching their pearls as they watch the vampire and his less-than-appropriate behavior.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Depends on what you think it's good flirting. Are you attracted to centuries old vampires that like to murmur innuendos in your ear while constantly invading your personal space? If yes, then Ed is the perfect man for you. If not, well... you might need to have a long, serious talk with him (spoiler: he won't change).

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

His gifts are always a coin toss. He can either surprise you with a beautiful, vintage trinket from times of yore he has carefully kept safe for centuries, or he can straight up just gift you a one month subscription to his favorite twitch streamer. It's best if you just tell him the things you want – he might whine and tell you he has no money (even though he gives superchats to his oshis like. every day), but he will relent eventually and find a way to give you whatever you wanted in the end.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Slow. His behavior sometimes makes everyone forget about it, but Ed has been alive for longer than anyone can understand. He's had family, friends, and lovers – now, all fading memories due to the passage of time. He intimately knows the horrid pain of losing a loved one time and time and time again. Going through something like that again isn't on his plans – he doesn't see the beauty in what's ephemeral anymore. So it takes him a long time to come to terms with his feelings. He might try to pressure you into letting him turn you into a vampire though.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Easy, but it takes some time for it to be genuine. Like most things in his life, words have become trivialized as well. He's forgotten the weight of them, finding it easy to say "I love you" as a way to tease and aggravate you (or Rui or Lyca). As he begins to accept his own feelings for you, however, it becomes less and less frequent – he sees truth in his own words, and it's alarming. Not to mention, he has cried wolf one too many times: the next time he says it, he wants you to finally believe in his love as much as he believes in it himself.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really, but he'll never ever miss the chance of making a scene and putting on his drama queen crown whenever he sees you talking with some other guy. You might even think he IS jealous, but his plans are more mischievous than you expect. It's almost impossible for Ed to feel threatened, honestly – he's lived many lives, and he's tired now; jealousy requires a lot of energy and he just doesn't have it in him anymore.

what is his ideal date?

Diving into the most random rabbit hole on YouTube and spending all day together watching videos about it and discussing them all while cuddling on his bed (after deep cleaning his room, of course...). Soon, you and Ed will be extremely knowledgeable on the most niche subject possible, and no one will be able to decipher what the hell you two are talking about – and Ed wouldn't have it any other way.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He genuinely doesn't think about marriage. What is forever to someone who never dies? Unless you are willing to let go of your humanity and turn into a vampire to stay with him in his eternity, marriage won't be a reality for the both of you. He won't make promises if you aren't going to fulfill yours.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He thinks it's an interesting little human creation but doesn't really partake in it (besides watching Valentine's themed streams). If you care a lot about the date, however, he might have his curiosity piqued – after all, it's the perfect excuse to obnoxiously cling onto you without receiving any complaints. It's Valentine's Day after all!

does he get protective easily?

He wouldn't call it protectiveness, but it's what it would seem like to anyone who observed him. Ed is always watching, keeping himself in the shadows or in the corner of your vision. He steps in when needed, nothing more, nothing less. He has saved you from more predicaments than you will ever know, but you don't need to. There's no need for fanfare nor ostentation. He's too tired for that.

does he believe in true love?

He used to, centuries ago. Rekindling a fire that has been out for longer than any human can conceive seems like an impossible task... but you seem to be special. Why don't you take a shot?

Rui

(Like with Zenji, in these headcanons, Rui's curse has been broken, so it's not too angsty)

how does he show affection?

He could do anything and everything for you. You only need to ask. He wants to grant your every wish – be it some food or drink you want to try, clothes you want to buy or even just keeping you company whenever you need him. He wants to be your chaperone, your student partner, your helper, your date, your best friend – he wants to be dedicated to you, ready to be all yours whenever you want him. All he asks is for you to allow him to hold you in his arms as he does so.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

LOVES them. He is constantly placing his arm around your shoulders or your waist, always ready to pull you even closer. His hugs are tight and almost suffocating – Rui presses you against him as if he's afraid you could turn into sand between his fingers. His hands trace circles on your back, soothingly; you just don't know if he's trying to soothe you or himself.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

You know he's great. However, Rui flirts shamelessly and openly with anything that breathes, which, consequently, prevents you from believing his words whenever his attention is on you. It actually frustrates him greatly. He begins to wonder if he should change his whole behavior only to have you finally flustered when he winks at you or blows you a kiss. After all, his charm isn't working with the one person he wished to impress.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's great at it. He can barely wait for Valentine's Day to arrive so he can give you the enormous basket full of gifts he has assembled for the past WEEKS. He knows absolutely all your tastes, and he will show off, eager to receive some praise from you as you rummage through all the things he's collected to give you. He'll be even more elated if you wear all the accessories and clothes and perfumes he's given you – he feels like an even bigger part of your day when you do so.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Despite how freely he flirts with everyone, Rui is slow when it comes to falling in love. He's very aware, though, of what happens in his heart once he begins falling for you. He knows his words are more truthful than they used to be; he knows his voice is tinged with a sadness that only someone who's in love can understand. At a certain point, his flirting becomes some form of masochistic punishment to himself – you don't know how much he wants you to believe him, and he can't stop reaching out for you, only to be met with your distrust. He had to plan thoroughly how to convince you of the honesty of his feelings, but at this point he was ready to rip out his bleeding heart and present it to you.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

It's easy, although the occasion changes as he falls in love with you. Right as he met you, it was easy: he would say it whenever he wanted to compliment you, thank you, or just as a greeting. As his feelings grew stronger and more real, however, he began saying it only when you were in his arms – his lips close to your ears as he inhaled your scent. Those three words became the culmination of his emotions; the utmost truth he only allows himself to say with the solemnity of a man pledging his soul to his deity.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

A little bit. He doesn't let it fester, though. If someone looks like they're trying their chance with you, he's quick to appear by your side and pull you closer with his arm on your waist. He maintains a perfect smile, but you can see how it never reaches his eyes, a subtle twitch of his eyebrows being the only sign of his carefully contained anger. You squeeze him even closer to you, and his shoulder slump. How can he stay mad at some random asshole when he has his cutie by his side?

what is his ideal date?

He wants a little cliché date: an afternoon at a cafe, then a visit to a bookstore so you two can point out titles and he can learn even more about your tastes. If you want to, he'd be more than happy to follow you around at a trinket store as well, elated to see your excitement as you point out plushies and toys to him. While you have fun poking around and showing him anything that you find cute or interesting, he has fun watching all your reactions.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He would love to ask it. He wants to make a show (only for you) out of his proposal. He genuinely thinks you deserve all of the effort he can muster. Rui won't mind if you propose, though. He will probably malfunction for a little while, before his brain catches up on the fact that you just asked him to spend the rest of his life with you. Don't worry, though. He wants it more than anything else in his life.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He LOVES it. He's looking forward to it months before the date (probably started the countdown since December). He was already quite used to receiving chocolates and confessions every year, but he couldn't care less about it this time. All he's thinking about is whether or not he'll get a chocolate from you and how much he wants to give you your gifts. The rest doesn't matter.

does he get protective easily?

A little. He's very open when it comes to expressing his concerns about your safety. He asks you to send him text messages to update him on your day or if you need something from him. Calls you just to know if you've arrived safely at class or at your dorm. He accompanies you wherever you go if he's available. He may be busy, but he tries his best to be as present as possible in order to protect you from all the dangers lurking in Darkwick.

does he believe in true love?

He does and has always believed in it. For the longest time, he thought he was simply doomed not to ever find it. With you, he finally feels safe enough to allow himself to believe in it again.

Lyca

how does he show affection?

Another clingy one for the books. Not to be too redundant, but Lyca does follow you around like a lost puppy does to its owner. It doesn't matter when classes start, nor where they happen – he will be there, waiting for you. He's always right next to you during all of your meals, glaring at anyone who tries to join you (except, probably, Subaru). His bright golden eyes are always following your every movement, glinting with satisfaction when your attention is entirely focused on him. He drops whatever he's doing if he catches the faintest whiff of your scent. You're his favorite person, and he explicitly proves it to you every day, even though it's mostly subconsciously on his part.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, but he's too embarrassed to ever give you a hug. The only moment in which he slithers his way into your arms of his own accord is when he's feeling under the weather – when only your comfort can bring him back to his usual mood. Besides that, you're the only one who's always taking the initiative and pulling him down for a hug. He wiggles and squirms under your iron grip, stuttering about how embarrassing it is to have you holding him like that, but deep inside, he's just relieved that his tail isn't visible otherwise it'd be wagging a mile per second.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Poor baby. No, he doesn't know how to flirt at all. He can barely voice his feelings properly without getting dizzy and a bit sick. However, sometimes he does say he likes you, though it is through unrecognizable mumbles, fidgeting hands, and grumpy pouts.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

His gifts consist mostly of him giving you his own artworks. If he notices you like a plant, or an animal, or a place, he starts working on drawing it as meticulously as possible, just for you. He'll hardly try to give you anything else and will probably be very self-conscious if you mention other types of gifts, so... Let him show his appreciation for you in his own way, at least for a while.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He's a little bit slow. Lyca is extremely guarded when it comes to anyone he doesn't know. It takes a little while for him to open up and get used to your presence. It takes him even longer to understand that he likes you in a way that's different from the way he likes his other friends. He might need a nudge, someone to explain to him what those feelings are in his chest whenever he's with you. However, Lyca won't ever confess to you straightforwardly. He lets his emotions show through his actions, through his eagerness to please you and how he's always seeking your company. You might be the one who needs to find out he has given his heart to you. Let's hope you aren't clueless like him.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Terribly hard. Lyca had very little chances to develop emotionally during his formative years. Years of fighting for survival, and then isolation, chipped away at his ability to feel his emotions properly. Being thrusted into a whole new reality without preparation nor professional help didn't magically fix his attachment issues. He has a lot of work to do before he even manages to feel things without trying to bury them deep into himself, let alone voice them. But you know him, and you know he loves you in his own way. You can wait.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Oh, very much so. More than just jealousy, he's constantly afraid that you'll leave him on his own or choose someone else over him. Anyone and anything is a threat. Lyca probably doesn't realize what he's feeling, nor why it brings him so much grief to watch you have fun with someone else. All he recognizes is that unexplainable anger brewing inside his chest. He stomps his way towards you, lips pulled back into a snarl, his chest hurting something fierce. He only calms down once you brighten right as you spot him and immediately try to include him in whatever activity you're doing.

what is his ideal date?

He would love to spend a whole day drawing and painting with you. If you don't know how to do any of these things, he'd be more than happy to teach you. You'd probably have to get all the art supplies beforehand, but it would be worth it – you'd be surprised to know that Lyca is, in fact, a very good and patient teacher (and he loves to be dependable).

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Lyca has never thought about it. Barely knows the existence of it. If you think you two are ready for such a commitment, then you'll have to ask him. Or you can explain the concept of marriage to him and plant the little seed of this idea into his brain. He might end up immediately proposing to you, though, without much preparation or thought. He doesn't complicate things. If marriage is between two people that like each other, then you two can simply do it right away, right?

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Much like the wedding thing, he never thought about it, nor does he care. You can explain it to him, but he might just grumble about "weird human culture". If it's important to you, however, he can try to give it a little more attention.

does he get protective easily?

VERY. If Lyca catches the slightest whiff of bad intentions coming from someone (quite literally, in his case), he WILL jump in front of you and growl at the person until they leave you alone. He has no qualms with scaring everyone away if it means he will keep you safe. Sometimes, you might need to rein him in so he won't try to scare your friends as well, but then he looks at you with those puppy eyes, apologizing for spooking them away, and it's hard to stay mad at him.

does he believe in true love?

Rui has read him stories about it – those things called fairytales. If it's in a book, then it might be real, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work? So yes, he does believe in it. And you're even more reason to believe.

[hopingforrainydays]

a game of hearts | d. malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: angst, heartbreak, not a happy ending

word count: 2.2k

summary: the four times you rejected draco, and the one time you didn't (and you really should've)

author’s note: this one has been cooking for a while, i apologize in advance for the heartbreak

masterlist

requests are open!

--

I.

"Come with me to Hogsmeade."

You didn't bother to look up from your book. "No."

Draco Malfoy stood in front of you, arms crossed, expression caught between amusement and mild irritation. His platinum hair was perfectly combed and his uniform was impeccable. The very image of effortless arrogance.

He moved to sit beside you, and you opened your mouth to protest, but it was too late. He lounged against the library chair, arm draped across your own.

"You could at least pretend to consider it," he said, frowning. His gaze held your own. Bright eyes glittered with mischief.

You forced yourself to look away, back to your book, and flipped a page. "I could, but I won't."

His friends were watching from a distance. You could hear them whispering, snickering. You wondered how much they bet on this attempt, how much they thought you're worth nothing more than a joke.

Draco huffed, muttered something about you being impossible, and stalked off. You didn't watch him leave, but you heard Pany's laughter as she linked his arm through his. A game, you reminded yourself. That's all you were to them.

II.

Again, he caught you in the library. Though caught was a strong word, as you were prone to spending most of your time there. It wasn't difficult to track you down.

"You're not even giving me a chance."

"You don't deserve one."

Draco's lips twitched, his ever-present smirk flickering like a candle about to go out. "That's harsh. Even for you."

You leaned back in your chair, tilting your head. "You think I don't notice? The way your little entourage watches whenever you try this? You're amusing them, Malfoy. I don't exist for your entertainment."

His face fell. Just for a second. Then that smirk is back, but you saw the moment of hesitation. It lingered in the air between you, unspoken.

"That's not—"

"Save it." You gathered your things and left before he could finish. The weight of his stare followed you all the way out.

III.

"You know, you could bother some other girl for a change. I'm sure she'd kill for your attention," you said as you picked at your food with a fork.

The great hall bustled around you, and your eyes tried to catch anyone else's in a plea for help. But the only reason they looked your way in the first place was because Draco Malfoy, of all people, was sat at the empty corner of the table with you.

His elbow was propped against the table, his full body turned to you.

He grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't want any other girl."

There was something different in his voice this time. The usual arrogance was there, but it was layered beneath something else—something softer. You hesitated for a fraction of a second, and you hated that you did. You hated that your heart stuttered, just a little, because this time it almost sounded like he meant it.

You sat up, suddenly, pushing the tray of food away from you. He looked as though he might protest, but you were quick to leave your seat. You refused to entertain the notion that there was something genuine in his voice.

IV.

"Do you even like me?"

Draco blinked. "What?"

You crossed your arms. "You've asked me out four times now. Why? What do you get out of this?"

He hesitated. Just for a second. But you saw it.

"I think you're interesting," he said eventually.

You hummed. He thought you were interesting, a word used by most other students to kindly tell you that they thought you were strange, weird, or different.

"Interesting," you repeat, voice flat.

"I'd call you absolutely enchanting, but I'm afraid you'd hit me," he joked.

You didn't laugh. Instead, you stared at him. He stared back. And there it was, that look. Eyes wide and genuine, he looked too honest for your comfort.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you turned and walked away.

V.

The day you said yes, Draco looked stunned. Like he hadn't actually expected it to happen. Like he had forgotten why he started asking you in the first place.

It happened in the courtyard, under the brittle light of a late autumn afternoon. You were leaning against the stone wall, arms folded, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he approached yet again. But you hadn't been waiting for him, no.

His confidence was intact, as always, but you could tell from the way he fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve that something about this game had changed.

"You again," you said dryly, before he could open his mouth.

Draco smirked. "You'd miss me too much if I stopped."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. "Doubtful."

There was a moment where he hesitated, as if he was weighing whether to press forward or retreat, and for some reason, that hesitation was what made you say it.

"Alright," you said. His brows furrowed in confusion. "I'll go out with you."

The silence stretched between you. His mouth opened slightly before he caught himself, schooling his expression into something far too neutral, too careful.

"You will?" he asked. He didn't quite believe it.

You tilted your head, studying him. "That's what you wanted...wasn't it?"

Draco recovered quickly, flashing a smirk that was almost too sharp. "Of course it is."

He said it as though this was some kind of victory, but you saw the flicker of something else in his eyes—doubt, uncertainty, maybe even regret. But he only extended a hand, palm up, waiting.

You stared at it for a second before sighing and slipping your fingers into his. It felt like stepping off a ledge.

Your relationship began like an accident. It didn't feel real at first—just something to occupy your time between classes, between studying, between moments of solitude. He sat with you at meals. Walked with you in the halls. Quieted his laughter when his friends made jokes at your expense.

And you—

You started to like him.

You're not sure when it happened. Maybe it was the time he snuck out past curfew just to bring you hot cocoa from the kitchens when you were studying late. Maybe it was the way he defended you—subtly, never outright, but you saw the way his shoulders stiffened when someone made an offhanded remark about you. Maybe it was how he listened when you talked, really listened, instead of waiting for his turn to speak.

You never thought Draco Malfoy capable of sincerity. But then he touched our wrist one evening by the lake, his fingers barely brushing against yours, and you thought, maybe, just maybe, this hadn't been a game at all. At least, not anymore.

You had been wrong about him.

One evening, curled up in the corner of the Slytherin common room, you found yourself laughing at something Draco said. It wasn't sharp, or bitter, or forced. It was real, warm. Unguarded. And the way he looked at you in that moment—like he wanted to bottle the sound and keep it—made your heart ache in a way you didn't quite understand.

"What?" you asked, because he hadn't looked away.

Draco blinked, startled, as if caught in something he wasn't meant to feel. "Nothing," he said, but his voice was softer than usual, the smirk on his lips almost absent.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes playfully. "You're staring."

"So?" His fingers brushed yours on the armrest between you, the touch so fleeting you almost think you imagined it. "Maybe I like looking at you."

Your breath caught, but you shoved down the flustered feeling. You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"And you like it."

You shoved his shoulder lightly, and he laughed. Really laughed. For a second, you allowed yourself to believe that whatever this was, it was real. That he felt it too.

But then he grew distant.

He still walked beside you, still laughed at your biting remarks, still met you in the library when you claimed you didn't need the company. But he was quieter now, his eyes shadowed in a way you didn't understand. Sometimes, when he thought you weren't looking he watched you like he was waiting for something, some inevitable moment that only he knew was coming.

It was late into the night, and as you sat together in the empty Astronomy Tower, you decided you were tired of the distance.

"Draco," you said, shifting to face him. "What's wrong?"

He startled slightly, as if pulled from some faraway thought. "Nothing."

"Liar."

He exhaled sharply, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. "You're always ready to call me out, aren't you?"

"Someone has to."

There was a beat of silence, thick and weighted. Then, as if compelled by something neither of you could name, he leaned in.

And you let him.

His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, then more certain, more desperate. Like he was trying to memorize the feeling, to carve it into his skin before it was too late. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world narrowed down to this—just this.

When you parted, his breath was unsteady. So was yours.

"You’re different with me," you murmured.

Draco swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. "I know."

And for a moment, you thought he might've told you why.

But he didn't.

--

It happened in the corridor outside of the common room. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the voices were loud, and his name caught your attention before you could stop yourself.

"Alright, Draco, joke’s over. You’ve won. When are you finally going to end it?"

You froze.

Draco didn't answer right away. You couldn't see his expression, but you heard his hesitation, thick in the silence that followed.

"Draco?"

"I—"

"Oh, don't tell me you're actually enjoying this?" Blaise snickered. "Come on, mate, the bet was for a month. You've won."

Your stomach dropped. The world tilted. You didn't stay to hear the rest. You didn't need to.

You didn't remember walking there. The corridors blurred past you, torches flickering like distant stars, the weight of your heartbeat so loud it drowned out everything else. It pounded in your ears, your throat, in the spaces between your ribs. It threatened to tear your apart from the inside out.

Draco found you there, in the Astronomy Tower.

Of course he did.

It was where you kissed him for the first time. Where you sat with him in quiet companionship. Where you, despite your better judgment, let yourself believe that this—whatever this was—meant something.

But it didn't. It never did.

"Hey," he greeted, hesitant, cautious, as if he already knew something was wrong. As if he could feel the fury curling off you in waves. "What are you doing up here?"

You turned to face him, slowly, and the sight of him—his pale, sharp features, the stormy eyes you once thought held secrets only for you—made your stomach twist.

The silence grew thick. His brows furrowed, lips parting slightly, waiting.

And then, voice cold, steady, deadly, you said, "When were you going to tell me?"

He stilled. "Tell you what?"

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Don't. Don't play stupid, Draco. Not now."

His throat bobbed. "I—"

"I heard them." The confession hung between you, heavy as a curse. "Pansy. Blaise. Your little entourage. I heard them asking when you'd finally break it off."

Draco's expression cracked, the faintest flicker of panic in his eyes. "I—"

"A month, Draco." Your voice trembled, but not with sorrow. With rage. "That's all I was to you. A game. A bet."

"No—" He stepped forward, and you took a step back. His face twisted as if you struck him. "It wasn't like that. Not—Not anymore."

You laughed, bitter. "Not anymore?" The words were acid on your tongue. "So when did it change, then? When did I stop being a joke?"

Draco looked at you like he didn't know what to say. Like there was no right answer. Because there wasn't one.

The worst part is that you wanted to believe him. Even now. Even after everything.

You wanted him to tell you it wasn't a lie. That every touch, every stolen glance, every whispered conversation in the dark meant something. That he meant it when he kissed, when he brushed his fingers against your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you.

But you knew better. You had always known better.

And yet, you still let yourself be fooled.

"You should have told me," you whispered. "From the beginning."

Draco exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. Frustration bled through his features. "I didn't know how." His voice was raw, unguarded in a way you had never heard before. "I tried—I wanted to stop. But then you—" He faltered. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

You inhaled sharply, and forced down the sting behind your eyes. "For what to happen?" Your voice was hoarse. "For me to fall for you? Or for you to fall for me?"

He didn't answer. And that told you everything you needed to know.

You took another step back, toward the stairs, toward the door, toward anywhere that wasn't here.

"I'm done, Draco." The words hurt. Merlin, did they hurt. But you refused to let him see it. "We're done."

His face crumbled. "Please—"

But you didn't stay to hear the rest. It didn't matter. Not anymore.

--

buy me a coffee

[1hot-mess-express1]

Washed Away

Sylus X Reader (Caleb X reader kinda but he's icky in this)

Summary: Shaken by the events that unfolded in Skyhaven you find comfort in Sylus (WK 6.5k) A?N: I kind of gave up on this part way and I feel like the style changes drastically but I needed to finish it (it's also been way too long since I've written smut so forgive me)

Warnings: Manipulation, manipulative sex (Caleb is kind of OOC and kind of awful) hate sex, biting, blood, bike crash, injury, penetration, unprotected sex, cumming inside, nipple biting, cunnilingus (I think that's it???)

banner made by: @arlerts-angel

As soon as you touched down in Linkon, you ran for your bike, parked just outside your apartment. You didn’t even glance at the door. There was no time. No room for hesitation. You needed to move. Now.

The engine roared beneath you, vibrating through your bones, grounding you just enough to keep your mind from shattering under the weight of everything you’d seen in Skyhaven. You were ready to take off toward the N109 zone when a bitter thought cut through the noise—Sylus would lose his mind if you showed up without a helmet.

A groan tore from your throat. Not from frustration, but from exhaustion. You didn’t have it in you to deal with his anger too. With a jolt you whipped your back in the direction of your apartment before ascending the stairs, with heavy steps, you ran inside, snatching the ridiculous helmet off the end table. Your jacket, too.

The helmet was a joke. A full-visor model with corny cat ears—a gift from the man of the hour, meant to tease you. And yet, as you shoved it over your head, you didn’t laugh. You didn’t even feel the usual flicker of fondness. Just a hollow ache.

You tore down the stairs and onto the bike, praying the ride would clear your head.

You were wrong.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, but your mind was still trapped in Skyhaven.

Caleb wasn’t dead. Worse—he was alive, but he wasn’t yours anymore. Cold. Distant. A liar. One moment whispering childhood memories, the next, drugging you. He had expected you to welcome him back like nothing had happened, like the years of grief had never existed. Like you had never existed without him.

And Ever.

You knew he was working with them. You knew. Yet when confronted, he couldn’t even give you a straight answer.

Your grip on the handlebars tightened. The rain slicked the desolate N109 zone, but you didn’t slow down. Anger, frustration, and something rawer twisted inside you. You’d had so many chances—to fight back, to force answers out of him, to end this before it could unravel further. You could’ve tied him down, threatened him, even killed him if you had to.

But when those steely eyes softened into the familiar violet that once adored you, you hesitated.

He had looked so genuine. Like maybe—just maybe—every horrible thing he had done had been to protect you in some sick way.

Tears burned hot down your face.

The hidden road came up too fast.

Your tires skidded. Gravel bit into your skin as you crashed down, pain ripping through your body as the bike pinned you beneath its weight. Your head hit the ground—hard—and for a moment, the world was nothing but blackness.

Dizzy. Nauseous.

A sound wrenched from your throat—half sob, half scream—as you shoved the bike off your leg. Adrenaline drowned the pain, or maybe fury did. You didn’t care. You got back on, forcing the bike forward. You refused to look at your leg. You refused to stop.

By the time you reached Sylus’s mansion, your whole body felt like fire. You barely killed the engine before shoving the bike down, letting it crash onto the gravel like an afterthought. You stumbled up the stairs, biting back cries of pain.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the blood soaking through your torn jeans.

“Boss man isn’t here, Miss Hunter,” the twins chimed from the couch.

Kieran peeked over, his sharp inhale betraying him. He and Luke exchanged a glance.

You forced yourself to breathe. “That’s okay. Just gonna lie down. Wait for him.”

Their stares burned into your back as you dragged yourself upstairs. Every step sent fresh spikes of pain through you. Gravel was embedded in your thighs, each movement forcing sharp little daggers deeper into your skin.

Inside Sylus’s bedroom, you ripped the helmet off and let it fall to the floor with a hollow thud. Scuffs and dents lined the side. Good call grabbing it.

You stumbled to the closet, pulling out a plain white dress shirt before peeling off your soaked clothes. The jacket was salvageable. Your jeans? Not so much. Bloodstained, shredded, and riddled with embedded pebbles.

And then, finally, you looked.

The pain, dulled by adrenaline, came crashing back in full force. Your body throbbed, fresh tears welling in your eyes.

Boots off. Shirt and bra discarded.

Now, the jeans.

You hesitated.

Your hands trembled as you braced yourself, then yanked them down in one go. The fabric clung where the blood had dried, tearing skin as it peeled away. Loose pebbles clattered to the floor like discarded buttons.

You hissed, vision blurring.

Barely standing, you stumbled into the bathroom, pressing gauze against the worst of the wounds. A half-hearted attempt at first aid. You wiped yourself down as best you could, then gritted your teeth as you straightened.

Pain coiled up your spine, white-hot and unrelenting.

God, you hated Sylus and his damn oversized bedroom.

With sheer effort, you made it to the bed, pulling the dress shirt around yourself before sinking into the mattress. Maybe… maybe his taste wasn’t so bad.

You stared at the ceiling, letting yourself slip back into the memory you had tried so hard to outrun.

You’d been so confident. So sure of yourself. You hadn’t told a single person what had happened. Not even Sylus. You just left, your only explanation being a vague mention of extended leave from the association.

How could you have crumbled under the weight of a stare?

You thought of the way Caleb had looked at you during the interrogation. Cold. Foreign. The warmth was gone, stripped away like you were nothing more than a stranger to him. His voice was sharp, jagged—nothing like the one that had whispered you to sleep as a child.

But then, afterward. When the doors had shut, and he had pulled you into that second room.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you had wanted to believe in him. Wanted to believe that he was still your Caleb, that he had some elaborate explanation, that he would pull you into his arms and whisper comfort into your hairline. That he wasn’t a stranger in his own skin.

But the second he smiled—really smiled—you knew.

The warmth never reached his eyes.

The leather of his gloves felt foreign on your skin as he traced slow, lazy circles into your back. His voice, honeyed and coaxing, whispered into your neck.

"It’s okay, it’s really me." A kiss against your racing pulse. "Don’t be scared, please."

There was something off in his voice. Too smooth. Too deliberate. It made your stomach churn.

And you had cried. Not because you believed him, but because you didn’t.

Slowly at first, tears slipping down your cheek as he kissed along your throat, his touch sending ice down your spine. When he reached for the fleet jacket draped over your shoulders, his fingers curled around the fabric like it offended him. Then, with more force than necessary, he shoved it off of you.

Your breath hitched. A warning sign.

Wrong. This is wrong.

But you hadn’t stopped him. Not yet.

A growl tore from your throat as you yanked him down onto the exam table, straddling his hips. For the first time that night, shock crossed his face.

"Wha—what are you doin’, Pipsqueak?"

Despite his surprise, his hands found your hips. A subconscious reaction. Pulling you into him.

That’s when you kissed him—hard. A kiss that wasn’t meant to comfort or forgive. A kiss meant to hurt. I hate you. How dare you let me think you were dead. How dare you expect me to fall in line the second you call. How dare you expect me to love you after this.

You bit down, tasting iron as you licked lightly at the bruised flesh.

He groaned, hands tightening on your hips, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. Wrong response.

"Fuck—Pips, that hurt," he exhaled, but his eyes gleamed. Not with pain. Not even with anger. He liked it. He was baiting you.

It was a challenge, not an apology. No hint of regret, no flicker of sincerity.

It was like he wanted you to fight back—just so he could tear you down all over again.

His gloved hand cupped your face too softly, as if mocking tenderness, while his other gripped your waist with growing fervor.

"Missed you," he murmured against your skin. A kiss. "So much." A lick. "So, so much." And then—teeth, sharp, sinking into your shoulder.

Pain flashed white-hot through you.

Your body jerked in response. Hand fisting in his hair, you yanked him back—hard—forcing his gaze to yours.

And there it was. That look.

No regret. No shame.

Just triumph.

A slow, creeping smile spread across his face.

"That’s my girl."

Something inside you snapped.

Something inside you snapped.

Your hand found his throat before you could think, fingers pressing against the rapid thrum of his pulse. Your heart clenched at the sensation—warm and alive.

Caleb was alive.

And he was right here.

The realization flooded through you, sharp and overwhelming, knocking the air from your lungs. You didn’t know whether to scream, to sob, to push him away or pull him closer. The only thing grounding you was the way his breath hitched ever so slightly beneath your grip.

Then you kissed him again. Desperate. Reckless.

His response was immediate—his hands roamed your back, deft fingers slipping beneath your shirt before he flicked the clasp of your bra open. Cold leather traced your spine as he yanked the fabric away, his grip rougher now, more demanding.

And then he flipped you over.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your back hit the table. Before you could react, Caleb hovered over you, his eyes searching yours.

And for the first time tonight, you saw it.

That look.

The one he always gave you when you cried.

Your breath caught.

"Pips," his voice was low, a breath of hesitation laced with something unsteady. He reached out, his gloved fingers tracing the wet streaks on your cheek. "You don’t have to do this."

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, then—so softly it almost hurt—he kissed your forehead.

You felt him start to pull away.

And you panicked.

Your ankles locked behind his back, pulling him closer before he could escape. Your fingers fisted in his jacket, grip unsteady, voice even shakier.

"Don’t you dare run away from me again."

Something dark flickered across his face.

And then his restraint snapped.

Caleb’s lips crashed against yours, his movements rough, frantic. His hands ran down your sides before his mouth latched onto your breast. A gasp ripped from you, arching into his touch as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin.

He chuckled, the vibrations sending a jolt down your spine.

"Fuck—keep that up, sweetheart, and I might start thinking you missed me too."

Your stomach twisted, bile rising in your throat.

You had missed him. For years.

You missed the Caleb who had stayed up late with you on the rooftops of Linkon, tracing the constellations with his fingertips. The one who had held you when you cried, who had promised that no matter what happened, he’d never leave you.

That Caleb was dead.

And the thing wearing his face was trying to devour you.

That smirk—that same infuriating, arrogant smirk—made something burn in you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking hard, pressing him further against you, smothering him.

A muffled laugh rumbled against your skin before he bit down again, his grip bruising on your waist.

“Don’t worry Pips, I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight, ever again.” 

A sharp noise outside the bedroom wrenched you back to reality.

Your pulse spiked.

You just needed to sleep.

Yeah. That would fix this.

On the other side of the door, the twins sat in silence.

"I’m calling Boss Man," Kieran muttered, already pulling out his phone.

Luke didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned closer to the door.

Just in case.

With a lingering sense of unease, you reached for the gun in the nightstand, fingers curling around the grip before tucking it beneath your pillow. Your gaze stayed locked on the door, your breath uneven, heart beating just a little too fast.

You didn’t understand why you were doing this.

You were safe.

The safest place in the world.

No one dared to cross Sylus—no one was stupid enough to show up at his home uninvited. And yet, the weight of Skyhaven still pressed against your chest, wrapping around your ribs like like a snake. The fear, the helplessness—it clung to you like a second skin, sinking deep into the marrow of your bones.

A fresh wave of tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

God, you were so sick of crying.

You wanted this to be over.

To wake up and realize this was all some twisted dream. That none of it was real. That Caleb hadn’t tormented you. That you hadn’t shattered under the pressure.

But no matter how hard you wished, reality didn’t bend to your will.

With a ragged breath, you curled in on yourself, gripping the pillow tighter as exhaustion finally took hold.

Sleep came in waves—slow, heavy, and mercifully dreamless.

When Sylus arrived home, he was pissed.

Why had you been so reckless? Running off to Skyhaven—of all places—without telling him. You knew he couldn’t monitor you there, not right now at least. Couldn’t risk being seen with the chaos unraveling between Ever and the Fleet. And yet, you had still gone.

He had wanted to trust you, to believe that you could handle yourself the way you always insisted. But what did he get in return?

You, bleeding all over his floors.

His jaw locked so tight it felt like his teeth might crack, his brows furrowed as his ruby eyes burned with barely restrained fury. His coat was still half-unbuttoned, rain clinging to his skin as he stalked inside, tension radiating off him in waves.

The twins flinched the moment his gaze landed on them—sharp, cutting. Without a word, they scrambled out of his way, pressing themselves against the walls as if they could vanish into the shadows.

He didn’t slow his stride.

His fingers curled around the door handle, knuckles whitening before he ripped it open. The force sent the door slamming into the wall with a deafening crash.

The sound jolted you awake.

Your breath hitched—panic, adrenaline, muscle memory kicking in faster than thought.

Your fingers closed around the gun beneath your pillow, your heartbeat a violent drum in your ears as you swung it up and—

Pulled the trigger.

The gunshot cracked through the room, deafening.

But Sylus didn’t flinch.

Before you could even register what had happened, his hand flicked up—red and black energy twisting through the air like smoke. The bullet stopped mid-flight, hanging in place for a split second before he let it drop to the floor with a hollow clink.

A breath punched from your lungs.

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose, slow and controlled, but the heat in his eyes burned furious.

"First, you run off without telling me," he murmured, his voice low, eerily calm.

He took a step forward.

"Then, you wreck the bike I got you." Another step, heavier this time.

The mattress dipped as he reached down and ripped the covers off your lower half, exposing torn fabric and poorly dressed wounds to the cold air. You sucked in a breath, hands instinctively twitching toward your lap.

"And now you shoot me for walking into my own bedroom?"

His ruby gaze pinned you down, unwavering.

You felt small beneath it, stripped bare, your mind scrambling for words, for something—an explanation, an excuse. Your lips parted, but nothing came out except a pathetic breath.

It didn’t matter.

Sylus had already turned away.

His boots were heavy against the floor as he strode toward the bedroom door. The twins had lingered, watching with wide, terrified eyes—but at his approach, they bolted, disappearing down the hall like shadows before he reached them.

Then—slam.

The door shut with finality, rattling in its frame.

Your stomach twisted.

This is it.

He’s going to tell you to leave.

To never come back.

To never speak to him again.

You bowed your head, bracing for the inevitable blow. Your fingers picked at each other absentmindedly, trying to slow your racing pulse, to hold back the sting in your eyes.

But the words never came.

Instead—

Your head snapped up at the distant sound of running water.

The bathtub.

The tension in your chest tightened, confusion washing over you like a second wave of adrenaline.

Sylus was in the master bathroom.

Running a bath.

For you.

"Sylus?" Your voice came out pitifully quiet, but he heard you. He always did.

"Just wait there, darling. I don’t want you hurting yourself walking around."

You watched as he wiped his hands on his slacks, then let his coat slip from his shoulders onto the bathroom floor. The air around him was heavy—controlled rage simmering just beneath his skin—but when he stepped toward you, there was only restraint.

"I’m fine," you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, testing your balance. The moment you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg like fire, the world tilting violently—

Except you never hit the floor.

A red mist coiled around your body, weightless yet firm, suspending you just above the ground as Sylus sighed heavily.

You swallowed, heart hammering.

He stepped closer, the mist dissipating as he caught you effortlessly with one arm, his grip firm but careful. His nose brushed against your hair as he inhaled deeply, voice dropping into something dangerously fond.

"What am I going to do with you, kitten?"

He carried you easily, crossing the room in long strides before setting you down on the cool bathroom counter. His hands spread your legs slightly, making space for himself between them as he leaned in, his eyes flickering over the mess you had made of yourself.

Another sigh.

Slowly, he reached under the cabinet, pulling out a first aid kit and setting it down beside you with careful precision. But his other hand—his free one—remained on your thigh, tracing absentminded circles into your skin.

A chill crawled up your spine.

You felt gross.

The need to tell him everything—about Skyhaven, about Caleb—itched under your skin like poison, but you couldn’t handle his anger right now. Not when you were already teetering on the edge of breaking.

You chewed your lip, lost in thought, before you felt him shift.

Sylus tilted his head down, his gaze softening just enough as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I’m gonna have to tear these off," he murmured. "Don’t look, sweetie."

Before you could brace yourself, he pressed your head into the crook of his neck, his fingers threading through your hair, rubbing soothing circles against your scalp.

And then—rip.

A sharp sting shot through you as he tore the first bandage away. You flinched, instinctively moving to swat his hand—but he was faster.

He caught your wrist with ease, guiding both your arms around his shoulders.

"Hold on to me." His voice was low, patient. "Ground yourself, kitten."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping onto him as he continued.

You felt so unworthy of his tenderness.

Unworthy of his care. Of his anger, even.

You had let yourself get so tangled up in Caleb, the Fleet—Ever—that you had nearly forgotten about him. But it seemed Sylus had never forgotten about you.

He was here.

Waiting.

"All right," he finally exhaled, stepping back just enough to get a better look at your legs. His fingers instinctively reached for your swollen knee, pressing lightly.

Pain shot up your leg like a live wire, a choked cry ripping from your throat before you could stop it.

Sylus froze.

His jaw tensed, his expression darkening as he pulled back slightly.

"I’m calling the doctor."

He moved to turn away, but your fingers caught the fabric of his shirt, gripping it weakly.

"No, please... just want—you."

His breath hitched.

For a moment, something flickered across his face—widened eyes, a split-second hesitation.

Then it was gone, replaced by a quiet, lingering concern.

"Sweetie..." His voice was softer now, but firm. "I can’t leave you like this."

Despite his words, he stepped closer, letting you bury yourself against him, his hand cradling the back of your head.

You clung to him, trembling.

Sylus let out a heavy sigh, his hand smoothing over your back.

"Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "But first thing tomorrow morning, I’m calling your doctor. For now, however—"

He reached down, sliding his hands beneath you as he carefully lifted you from the counter, mindful of your injured knee. His fingers grazed your shoulders as he pushed his shirt off you, letting it slip to the floor.

"You need to get in the bath. You look like a stray cat."

There was a small, teasing lilt to his voice, but the chuckle that followed was quiet, almost unsure.

You didn’t laugh.

Instead, your fingers curled into his shirt again, tugging softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Will you get in with me? Don’t want to be alone right now."

He stilled.

His grip on you tightened, just slightly, before his ruby eyes flickered down to meet yours. You could feel the hesitation in his body, the way his muscles tensed beneath you.

For a long moment, he just looked at you.

Then, slowly, he set you back down on the counter.

"Are you sure?" His voice was quieter now, measured. "I can just sit next to the tub if you don’t want to be alone."

His hand found your face, thumb grazing along your cheek, and you instinctively nuzzled into the warmth of his palm.

"Mm, sure," you murmured. "I wanna be close to you."

The way his eyes softened at your words made your stomach twist.

It was that look—the one that said he could never refuse you, not even if he wanted to.

A quiet exhale left him before he moved swiftly, stripping out of his clothes. He didn’t make a show of it, didn’t tease—just moved with purpose, carefully picking you up again before stepping into the warm water, lowering both of you in.

The heat of the bath wrapped around you, soothing the ache in your limbs as Sylus adjusted you against him, keeping you secure in his hold.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—you felt safe.

"So," Sylus muttered, head resting in the crook of your neck. "Are you gonna tell me what has my kitten so flustered, or do I need to guess?"

The words were teasing, but his voice was anything but.

It was broken.

Worried.

You let out a bitter laugh. "I don’t even know where to start."

His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your hip, grounding you. "Would it help if I asked questions and you answered them?"

You nodded softly.

A breath. "Okay… where were you?"

"Skyhaven."

He already knew that. But it was a start.

"What were you doing there?"

"Retrieving an aether core."

Fuck. He knew it. His stomach twisted, thinking of all the bullshit you might have gotten wrapped up in.

"Were you able to retrieve it?"

You shook your head. No.

"I see…"

His gaze flickered down, and his fingers paused against your skin. That bite mark on your throat—dark, unmistakable. A twinge of jealousy curled in his stomach.

He shouldn’t feel jealous.

You weren’t his—not officially, not in any way that mattered. An unlabeled, unspoken bond tethered you two together, but it wasn’t enough to claim you.

And yet.

He placed a gentle kiss against the mark, his lips lingering just a second too long.

"Unforeseen complications?"

You inhaled deeply before shaking your head. Slowly.

The air around you felt heavier.

"Caleb’s alive."

Sylus stiffened.

His arms around you tensed, grip unconsciously tightening.

He had known of Caleb. Knew more than he had ever let on. And as he felt your body begin to tremble, the anger—the jealousy—inside him warred with something deeper.

"He’s alive," you repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "And working with Ever."

His hold on you stayed firm, unwavering, as if keeping you anchored.

"I don’t understand all of it, but he…" Your throat tightened, the words catching like glass shards. But you forced them out anyway. "He locked me in his house… and drugged me."

Sylus inhaled sharply.

Your breath hitched. "I—I couldn’t save that little boy because of him."

Your voice broke at the end, and you hated it.

"And, and we…" You squeezed your eyes shut, hands balling into fists against his thighs.

This was it.

Now or never.

"I fucked him."

Silence.

You let out a bitter chuckle, self-loathing creeping into your voice. "I don’t even know why. I was just—so consumed when I found him alive. I didn’t know what to do with myself."

Your gaze dropped to your hands, shame thick in your throat as tears spilled again.

"I felt so small. So out of control. I don’t ever want to feel like that again."

You braced for it.

For him to push you away. To hate you. To call you a traitor, a liar, a whore.

To tell you that you had tainted yourself.

But it never came.

His arms didn’t loosen.

Instead, his grip tightened.

And when he spoke, his voice was far away, as if lost in a memory.

"I understand what that’s like."

A silence sat between you, thick and heavy, before he continued.

"When I first saw you again," he murmured, "I was so consumed by my anger. My jealousy. I would have done anything to make you understand how you had hurt me."

A small chuckle left him—low, almost bitter.

"I wanted you to feel what I had felt. And I did things I’m ashamed of."

You swallowed, your voice timid. "How did you get over it?"

He hummed, as if considering the question carefully.

"You brought that dying dove over."

You blinked.

"I was a monster, the terrifying leader of Onychinus, the man who had been so cruel to you. But when you looked at me…" He exhaled, his voice nearly a whisper now, "that’s not what I saw reflected in your eyes."

Your breath caught.

"Instead, I saw a man who loves birds. Taming horses. A man who can’t fish to save his life."

That startled a small laugh out of you, despite everything.

His lips curled slightly. "Instead, I saw a man worthy of forgiveness. Of understanding."

A pause.

Then—he kissed just beneath your ear, voice thick with something sickly sweet, something that might just consume you whole.

"I can’t promise Caleb’s eyes will ever reflect that for you."

Your chest ached.

"But, darling…" He let out a breath, gently pulling your face up to meet his.

His skin was flushed a soft pink from the warmth of the bath, but his eyes—his eyes—they were impossibly soft. Drowning in unspoken words, in something so devastatingly real.

"If you need it, you’ll find it in mine."

Your breath hitched.

Your hand lifted instinctively, fingers brushing over his.

"If you look in my eyes, love, you’ll see a strong, capable woman." His voice was so steady, like an oath, a promise that couldn’t be broken.

"A woman who overcomes any and every obstacle sent her way."

"A woman obsessed with plushies and cute animals."

"A woman who loves my family as if it were her own."

"A woman whose kindness knows no bounds."

His lips ghosted over your forehead, pressing a featherlight kiss there as he murmured:

"A woman I’ll love until the last star in the sky fades out."

Another kiss—your cheek this time, softer, reverent.

"A woman I’ll chase through every lifetime, in every universe."

Your throat tightened, eyes burning, as he cradled your face like something precious.

"So if you ever need to know what you really are," he whispered, "please… just look into my eyes."

Your body betrayed you, drawn to him with a force beyond control. Before reason could intervene, your lips crashed into his—a kiss meant to steal the very breath from his lungs. It began softly, a whisper of longing, but passion flared too quickly, too violently, consuming you both. Your hand, trembling yet desperate, slid up to the bare line of his undercut, fingertips gliding over heated skin. A low, throaty groan escaped him, the sound vibrating against your lips, sending a wildfire racing through your veins.

The kiss deepened, urgency overtaking restraint. Your lips moved against his with a silent plea, your body urging him to surrender, to lose himself as you had already lost yourself in him. As if hearing your unspoken demand, he parted his mouth, allowing you to drink him in, to taste the hunger in the way his tongue tangled with yours. A shudder rippled through him, his control teetering on the edge of ruin. Had he always been this raw? This undone?

You shifted, pressing closer, your smaller hand venturing boldly downward. The instant your fingers grazed his hardness, his entire body jolted, a sharp hiss escaping through gritted teeth. Yet before you could chase after him, his hand caught your mouth, silencing you with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine.

His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unsteady. A flush crept down his heaving chest, his parted lips wet with stolen breath, his pupils blown wide. The sight of him like this, caught between restraint and abandon, made your thighs press together in need. His panting breath stuttered as you gripped him again, refusing to let go, your touch both a demand and a prayer.

"Sweetie… you're hurt," he rasped, his fingers wrapping around your hand, trying to pry you away. But you only held tighter, his name a breathy sigh on your lips.

"Don't be stubborn," you whispered, stroking him with slow, hypnotic precision. A guttural groan tore from his throat, his head falling back, surrendering for just a moment to the pleasure you gave. "You can be gentle with me, right, Sy?" Your voice was a sultry murmur, your lips ghosting over the sharp line of his jaw, trailing lower to taste the sweat-dampened skin of his throat.

His restraint snapped.

With a possessive growl, he lifted you both from the tub, water sloshing wildly onto the floor. His strength made you gasp, but he carried you effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed with a tenderness that contradicted the fire in his eyes. One large hand anchored himself next to your head, the other drawing your wrist to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your pulse. His fingers curled over your hand, bringing it to his mouth where his teeth grazed your palm before sinking in just enough to make you gasp.

"You just can't listen, can you?" His voice was low, edged with frustration and raw desire. His lips trailed up your arm, lingering at the mark on your neck—his mark. He exhaled sharply, brows knitting together as longing and concern warred within him. Sensing his hesitation, you tilted your head, offering it to him once more.

"Want you, Sylus. Only you."

Your voice was a whisper, but it shattered the last of his resolve. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal igniting within him. The sight of you, breathless and waiting, was his undoing.

A deep growl rumbled from his chest before his teeth sank into your neck, hard and unrelenting. A sharp cry escaped your lips, your hands instinctively flying to his hair. Were you pulling him closer? Or daring him to take more? The pain mingled with pleasure, a dizzying storm that left you gasping, writhing beneath him. His tongue soothed the bite with slow, deliberate strokes, his hands roaming your trembling form, mapping out every inch of heated skin.

The warmth of his touch lingered even as he reluctantly pulled away, hovering above you, his gaze drinking in the sight of your flushed, needy body, the deep blooming bruise overpowering the previous mark. His lips, so brutal just moments ago, now pressed reverent kisses down your chest, each touch unraveling you further. You felt the world blur, your mind reduced to nothing but the sensations he left in his wake.

"Missed you so much, sweetie," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He locked eyes with you, a silent promise passing between you before he dipped lower, his lips pressing reverently over the softest, most intimate part of you.

Your back arched, a gasping moan slipping from your lips, but his hands steadied you, anchoring you to the bed. "Relax, honey, or I'll have to stop," he warned, his tone stern, leaving no room for argument. You barely managed a nod before pleasure surged through you, reducing you to a trembling, pleading mess beneath him.

His tongue worked you over with agonizing precision, teasing, coaxing, pushing you toward madness. Each flick, each slow drag sent you spiraling higher. His grip on your hips tightened, his groan vibrating against your sensitive flesh. You whimpered his name, each syllable dripping with need, and that was all it took for him to lose himself completely.

He growled against you, intoxicated by your sounds, your taste, your scent. His fingers joined his tongue, thrusting deep, stretching, claiming. Your body clenched around him, your hands grasping at anything—his hair, the sheets, your own skin—desperate for something to tether you to reality.

"Sy, I—it's too much," you gasped, pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. But he wasn’t done. His tongue, his lips, his hands—he consumed you entirely, pulling you deeper into a pleasure so intense it threatened to break you.

He groaned against you, hips rocking against the mattress in desperate search oc relief as he devoured every moan, every plea. His hunger was insatiable, his need just as desperate as yours. And when your body finally shattered, trembling beneath him, he didn’t let go. Not yet. He let out a guttural moan that vibrated through you, strengthening your orgasm to the point you felt a wet gush flow from between your legs but Sylus wasn't done with you yet.

Because Sylus was a man who never left anything unfinished.

Finally, he leaned back on his heels, his impressive length leaking onto the sheets. Had he? You didn’t have a second to question before he rushed forward, sealing your lips in a kiss so full of hunger and restraint it stole your breath. "You make everything so difficult, my kitten," he whispered, his large hand cradling your face before pressing his fingers to your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself as you helplessly drooled around him.

"Listen to me," he murmured, forcing your gaze to meet his own. Despite the haze of lust, his eyes held a seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're going to tell me if it hurts, okay? I can't be hurting you more, or that pompous doctor of yours is going to accuse me of something awful…" Sylus chuckled darkly before leaning in, his breath warm against your ear. "Little does he know, his sweet, sweet patient is just a needy, spoiled little princess."

He pressed a chaste kiss to the mark on your neck before shifting, gently pushing your good leg aside, making room for himself between your thighs. His movements were unhurried now, measured, as he loomed over you with something both reverent and utterly ravenous in his gaze.

He pushes into you slowly, hand smoothing down the hair on your head, eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted him to stop, any sign that this hurt you. Instead, he saw nothing but love swirling in those great big eyes of yours. He kisses you, gently this time, “was so worried about you sweetie,” he kisses you again a little deeper this time, “wanted to see you so bad,” he’s slipped in all the way now, every inch of him filling you up perfectly causing you to moan softly into his mouth, “wanted to take care of you,” he kisses your temple as your arms wrap around his large back to ground yourself through his skin. He starts at a deep, slow pace, allowing you to feel all of him, savoring every moment of you under him. “Wanted to cook you dinner, help wash your hair,” he lets out a staggered breath as his pace picks up slightly, “wanted to fuck you, to hear you scream for me, to make you feel good,” he goes back to biting at your neck, leaving new marks in his wake. “Fuck--sorry sweetie, ‘m not gonna last like this”, he creeps a hand between your bodies and begins to rub precise circles around your still sensitive clit. Your body arches into his touch clenching harshly around him as you feel yourself beginning to cum. Your brain is nothing but a pile of mush in the wake of his love for you, you love him. You love him so much. You love the way he loves you. In the mundane, in the way he cooks your favorite and shrugs it off, the way you never have to open a door, the way his fingers reverently card through your hair, the way his touch makes you feel so safe, so seen. 

Fuck you weren’t going to last either, with the last part of your fading sanity you pull him into you, whispering into his ear, your breath hot on his skin, “I-I love you Sylus, I want you, I-I want to see myself in your eyes…always,” He swears his brain stops functioning at your sweet confession, his hand grows erratic, quickly rubbing circles into your clit, trying desperately to make you cum as he feels his own release ready to crash over him. And you do, you squeeze him so tightly his vision goes white for a moment as his pace stutters and empties himself into you. He came so hard he can feel it leaking out of you and onto the sheets but he just stays there. Holding you close to him, placing his head in your neck trying to hide his flustered face from you. He loved you. 

EXTRA: Zayne had made his way to the N109 zone with a quickness the following morning. You had fractured part of your knee, he was sure of it and you would need to go to the hospital for X-rays, so you lounged on the couch, flipping through a novel while Sylus packed some things for you to take with you. While searching for your more comfortable shoes his eyes land on a necklace on the nightstand. He eyes it suspiciously before covering it with his evol to try and detect an electric signal, and sure enough, in the charm was the tiniest tracker, able to tell the location and listen to everything. Sylus smirks to himself before placing it back onto the nightstand. Serves that bastard right.

[rainba]

Animalistic Instincts ღ

a/n: I just wanted to write a small thing about Luka being in heat some more... Particularly his breeding kink~ I made this one a fem reader, but if anyone wants a male version of this, I'd be happy to write it! ( ´ ▿ ` )

For this, reader is implied to be living with Luka.

TWs: breeding kink, dubcon (?), silencing via fingers shoved in mouth, dirty talk, unwanted pregnancy on darling's end, Luka being Luka.

NSFW, 18+ only!

Luka is a man who typically never loses his composure. He’s almost always calm, careful, manipulative, and smart to some degree. It’s something that he takes pride in.

…However, as a man born half-fox, there are days where the animal within him likes to take control. Every year when winter rolls around, that’s when his heat takes over him. And when that happens, he can no longer think for himself– he just goes wherever his dick takes him.

There are some times where he can be rational. Luka can still reasonably cook, clean, work, and take care of both you and him. However, he needs to fuck multiple times between tasks, which is a little inconvenient. He can still function overall, though.

But… There are days where his mind turns into total mush, and all he can think about is fucking you raw.

Luka knows that it’s gonna be a rough day when he wakes up and his first thoughts are centered around how badly he wants to breed and get you pregnant.

God, the idea of it all sounds so damn enticing to him. He’ll fuck you over and over again until you can’t walk, stuffing you full of his hot seed as he lovingly rubs your stomach. He can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’ll be when you’re all swollen and big while carrying his children. Luka will take extra-good care of you every step of the way… He’ll spoil you like a princess.

“We’re going to have so many kids,” He’ll growl darkly as he savagely thrusts his cock deep inside of you, shoving his cum further in as he locks your hips in place. At some point, you’ll lose count of how many rounds of sex you’ve had. 

“We’ll make a huge family.”

If you whine and tell him that you don’t want any kids, he’ll silence you by shoving his fingers deep inside your throat. You obviously don’t mean that…! You’re just a little confused and worn-out, that’s all. So instead of whining and saying things you don’t mean, how about you suck on his fingers and take his cock like a good girl?

After a couple rounds have passed and you’re thoroughly tired and overstimulated, Luka will start to slow down… But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he’ll just lay you down on your side and he’ll curl up behind you, raising one of your legs as he sensually fucks your pussy from the back. His breath is hot and heavy as he buries his face into your neck.

Luka's cum would be, quite literally, overflowing out of you and spilling onto the bed, but that doesn’t stop him. The animal inside of him demands that he keeps going until he physically collapses.

Also, it doesn’t matter if you feel all hot, sweaty, and disgusting– Luka downright refuses to let you take a shower. However, he will let you lay in bed as he takes a wet rag and wipes you down. His one rule is that you’re absolutely not allowed to clean up his cum. If you wash it out, then that means you’re lowering the chances of getting pregnant...! Right?

Afterwards, if you still cry at the thought of getting pregnant, he’ll kiss away your tears while reassuring you that everything will be okay– and that there’s nothing to worry about! Bearing his children can’t be that bad… If anything, it’ll be a wonderful experience! Don’t you worry your pretty little head, he’ll spoil you rotten for the next 9 months. ~

…But when tomorrow rolls around, if his mind isn’t mush anymore, the delayed post-nut regret will hit him like a speeding train. He’d consider giving you a morning-after pill, but… Honestly? Even when he’s not insanely horny, the idea of starting a family with you sounds nice. So, he wouldn’t give you it unless you genuinely begged him to.

[serukaiz]

Please do nerd!baji (let’s pretend he’s good at school) with popular!reader like them sneaking around to fuck and stuff

sneakin’ off.

syn ;; there’s some kind of tension between you and a certain raven-haired boy in college. however will you resolve it?

WARNINGS: bullying-ish, keisuke falls for you and tries to suppress it at the start, he’s a little mean but goes so soft for you after the first time, public sex!!!, creampies, p in v, strength kink (?), dacryphilia, sadism to an extent, slutshaming, FEELINGS!!, he wants to wife you up.

ⓘ : i genuinely didn’t know what to write him as in this because i physically cannot envision goody-two-shoes kei. there are so many things i wanted to add for this but i just don’t have the energy.

NOT PROOFREAD! this is also pretty short.

you’ve been the most loved girl at school for a year now— everybody fawned over you since the moment you transferred. it started on your very first day, how cute you looked with that sparkly lipgloss of yours, your hair, how lovely you smelled, and it’s not just ‘cause you’re a pretty face, either. you’re pretty on the inside, too. all sweet, and nice, and generous. you’re polite even to the ugly boys who think they’ve got a chance with you! good luck finding that in common with the other popular girls.

you’re so charismatic that even the toughest boys in school are wrapped around your finger, just ‘cause you give them that gorgeous smile of yours every time you pass by them in the hallway. you remember that time you bumped into some delinquent, books falling everywhere and both of you scrambling to get your pens back into your adorably decorated pencil case. he was so hellbent on fixing his mistake that he forgot his own supplies in the process! that was pretty cute.

but of course, there’s always one person who didn’t fall victim to your charms. 

this one boy, all dark and tall and serious. 

he’s a nerd, unpopular in pretty much every aspect, refuses to socialise or make friends. he’s bigger than you by a bit, broad-shouldered with arms that could very well bulge out of the sleeves of his blazer. he has this stupidly deep voice and permanently scary face that drives you insane. and god, when he opens his mouth, you get a glimpse of fangs that totally complement his thick eyebrows and half-lidded brown eyes. usually they’re hidden behind an obnoxious pair of glasses that he doesn’t even need. atleast they go along with that nauseatingly tight, slicked back ponytail he’s constantly sporting. not to mention the colour and wavy texture of his hair, silky ‘n long and darker than the black ink of the pen he uses to jot down notes in the most unreadable handwriting. what? of course you don’t pay attention to pointless shit like that, it was just an observation, that’s all.

his name’s keisuke baji or something like that.

he’s so well-built and good looking, it’s a shame he’s such an uninteresting asshole who’s got the worst style in the whole school. seriously, even a trashbag would be better than the weird nerdy get-up he’s got going on. it’s like he’s trying to make himself appear more try-hard-ish. 

it’s not your fault your thighs rub against each other when he’s speaking up in class andhis long legs are parted in a stereotypical manspread, lap open and practically inviting you to get on ‘n ride him to your heart’s content. ugh.

you’re not even sure if ‘nerd’ is fitting for him, ‘cause atleast nerds have their own groups and they’re smart. keisuke? he’s got shit grades and he’s alone almost all the time, except for that adorable boy with the blond undercut who’s always following him around. keisuke isn’t even a nerd— he’s a loser. yeah, that’s what he is.

he’s just so annoying, acts like he’s better than everyone, treats you like you’re some fucking gnat. who does he think he is, not even bothering to look at you when you flash him that signature sugary grin of yours in the hallway? he’s lucky you even acknowledge his existence!

you’re trying not to do that very thing anymore, though. acknowledging his existence.

you try to forget him and dish back the same indifferent energy he always has around you, but it’s not quite convincing when you both know fuck well he’s the one you’re thinking of when your fingers are knuckle-deep inside your cunny in the middle of the night. keisuke, keisuke, keisuke. 

stupid fucking keisuke.

you don’t even get why you’re so attracted to him. sure, he’s pretty, and he’s got muscle, but nothing’s even special about him. not the way that he walks, the way that he talks, or the way he undresses you with his gaze every time you’re around.. there might be a semblance of something akin to giddiness when his burning glare is set on you, but it doesn’t matter. he’s still the same asshole who forgets your existence as soon as you’re out of sight.

that’s what you think, atleast. what’s actually going on is that he cannot stand how you look and act like you’ve been sent from heaven by the gods themselves, made just to torment him until he goes crazier than he already is.

he’s gone in deep with you. you don’t see it at all, considering how your very presence seems to reinforce the walls he’s put up to shield himself from being pleasant, but he wants you. bad.

he likes the way your hair bounces with every step, that annoying jingle of the millions of trinkets you’ve got on your bag and your pencil case, the sweet scent of your perfume, that obnoxious sparkly lipgloss you’re always fucking wearing. he’s seen it stain everything you press your mouth to.

he wonders often how it’d look staining his dick, too. 

that’s a fantasy he often has when he’s in the bathroom on campus, hand curled around his length, pretending it’s not the callouses of his own palm but the pretty, well-cared for skin of yours. soft lips wrapped around his cock, widened eyes watering with how he’d hit the back of your throat, fuck, he knows you’ll struggle, he’ll relish each and every single one of your gags and meek moans, force himself deeper—

ah, fuck. there goes the aftershock of his orgasm, thick globs of semen dropping onto his palm before he could leave evidence. he needs to do something about it— this whole situation. he isn’t sure how much longer he can handle fucking his fist and pretending it’s you.

he tells himself to just forget about you, continue pretending like you don’t exist because you somehow managed to weaken him to the point he can barely get through class without getting a hard-on. he’s whipped, that’s all there is to say.

you’re in a similar predicament too, though. no man has ever driven you this mad, made you crave validation this much. the entire campus would bend over backwards for you but you just want keisuke, something you smack yourself for thinking every time considering he’s the only person who gives you barely a drop of attention.

things finally take a turn when one day, by pure coincidence— you found yourselves in a unisex bathroom after a very, very annoying slew of debates and disorganised lectures earlier. he was frustrated and so were you. him mostly because you kept yapping and wearing a miniskirt that practically could’ve been your underwear, you because he didn’t acknowledge your skimpy outfit at. all. barely even a glance. that’s what you thought, atleast.

neither of you could keep your mouth shut, not until he accidentally crowded you against the wall and your underwear began to feel a little too damp for comfort. you squished your thighs together, but that stupidly short miniskirt of yours, the one with your ass practically hanging out, didn’t do shit to hide your locked legs.

“fuckin’ christ. all you do is goddamn yap, yap, yap—“ he runs a hand down his face, “anybody ever tell you to shut up?”

your eyes widen. “don’t fucking talk to me like that! as if you weren’t bitching your mouth off either!”

“‘least i don’t yip nonstop, hopin’ i can spread my legs and fuck myself out of any situation.” he gives you a pointed glance, sharp teeth gnashed in a sneer.

“are you serious? you’re slut-shaming me, you asshole? i’m just being myself, it isn’t my fault people actually wanna be around me, unlike you!”

you don’t even register what’s happening until your back meets the cold tile of the bathroom wall, and a tall raven-headed man’s glaring down at you as if you owe him money.

his gaze darkens when it lands on your thighs, his tongue licks over his fangs like a fucking predator.

“real big talk comin’ from the chick who’s squeezin’ her thighs like she’s got something hidden.”

“wh— i’m not!” 

you back yourself up further. he doesn’t allow the distance to grow.

“yeah you fuckin’ are,” he growls, stalking closer. his big hands suddenly fist at the hem of your skirt. “lemme see.”

“baji!” you shriek, trying in vain to shove him off. he clicks his tongue.

“‘s keisuke,” is all he says, correcting you.

in an instant, your skirt is flipped up all the way, baring your panties to his greedy caramel eyes. his other palm lays firm on your thigh and he pries your legs apart forcefully, ignoring your scream.

“you actually this wet after i cussed you out like that?”

“keisuke—!”

he doesn’t tear his gaze away from that wet spot for a second. “fuck.” he scoffs, and snakes his hand your thigh, slipping his thumb into your inner thigh, then your soaked panties. 

what’s really fucking funny is the reason both of you went into this bathroom was to be alone so you could relieve the stress between your legs caused by each other— fate has funny ways, doesn’t it?

it’s from then on something sets off between the two of you.

the eyefucking got a lot more intense. so did the actual fucking.

both of you would sneak off during lectures, making some flimsy excuse to get away from your friends, being painfully awkward around each other when people were in the room. how could you both act now? be nice? that’d be weird, everyone knows there was always some sort of tension between you and keisuke— it’s kind of difficult to get back to ignoring each other knowing keisuke’s the same boy who held you up in a full nelson and creampied you in the janitor’s closet.

yeah, he did that. you vividly remember it.

muscular arms supporting your thighs with not an ounce of effort, that aching feeling of his dick piercing your insides and making your poor cunny cry along with you. it was just so overwhelming, being bent in half like that while he mercilessly bounced you up and down on his cock, having a man as good as him penetrate you with such strength. he isn’t like any you’ve had before.

“kei!” you sob, and he buries his nose into the back of your hair almost affectionately.

“i know, i know, pretty,” he strains, cussing when he feels your hole clench around him. his scarred arms readjust you, you feel your tits being crushed by your own thighs. who would’ve thought you could be this flexible? “c’mon, you can take it. just a little longer.”

he’s such an enigma. saying such reassuring words while he’s pounding you into a void state.

what made the whole thing even more thrilling was the fact that someone did walk by— it was none other than baji’s most loyal follower, chifuyu, who was asked by the professor to look for you two since you were taking so long. he bolted the instant he heard you wail out his ex-captain’s nickname, running right back to class and lying with a face coloured a lighter red than the blood you’d occasionally draw from keisuke’s forearm when he had to shut you up while fucking you.

you know the entire thing is a terrible idea. a fake-frenemies-with-benefits situation, it’s destined to go wrong, and you should act on that knowledge, but it’s like you get possessed by your clit every time keisuke’s around. i mean— just look at him. one wanting look at you from him and you’re a goner, you can’t help melting into his arms every time he picks you up or pins you down and brings you to the highest cliffs of pleasure. his tongue is just so long inside your pussy, his fingers are so thick and his cock is all too snug when he’s inside you. and how he talks you through the whole thing, god, you could ride that bastard for days. 

it’s a near perfect match, how you feel about him, he feels that way too — to an extent. he’s not nearly as nervous as you are. he’s a hundred percent sure he wants to make you his— his girl, his sweetheart, his wife when you’re both stable. how’s he supposed to feel nothing toward you when you look like that, when fat tears are rolling down your puffy cheeks as he obliterates you into the mattress? when your pussy’s fluttering around him like it needs him, and he knows it does? when your thighs are so soft around his head as he devours your abused hole, fingers so deft but shaky raking through and tugging at his midnight locks? when your voice has been shrunken to a cracked whisper of his name, everything about you drives him mad.

you’ve got a feeling none of it will end well, but keisuke’s going to make sure it won’t end at all.

© all rights reserved. 𓏲ּ🍒

[i-yap]

MY FAVORITE IS DICK GRAYSON FORVER WILL BE DICK GRAYSON AND HERE IS WHY

DICK GRAYSON X Y/N ( FRUSTRATED ME EDITION)

- first of all , he is the hottest character in dc (literally the comics have written this line by line)

- he is the real one with communication issues. You think jason struggles with that? NO jason uses any chance to tell me people how much he suffered. But dick? He wears a smile, he hides everything he is feeling

- the only person who gets to see the real him is YOU. The stress, the pressure, the mommy daddy issues...cmon. and bruce prolly was the worst at raising grayson and learned from his mistakes for the rest

- dick is someone who tries to be happy. Who tries to have a normal life. Who tries not to let his issues affect him . But they do which is why he has so many fucked up relationships. But when he meets you he wants to keep you, he needs to keep you with him. So he tries yet again to open up, fix his issues, love you the way you truly deserve.

- AND let us all not pretend we are all not stressed asf in life. He is so joyful and bright and will almost never dull the mood. Car karaoke ? Done. Skinny dipping in some random lake you drive by? His suggestion. Amusement parks? He is excitedly pulling you to all the rides and WILL 100% WIN YOU THE BIGGEST TEDDY

- he is deep, he js in touch with his feelings and he knows how to take care of you. Idk abt u guys but I have issues . I want a man who gives you those words of affirmation, who makes it super obvious he likes you.

- he needs you just as much as jason or tim or damian do. He also never had genuine love, he also has been a soldier a leader the person responsible all his life. He needs yo hold you, he needs that peace and quiet away from everything he has to deal with . He wants someone he can come home to and just show how drained he is .

- he is so kind to the world but he WILL BURN IT FOR YOU . I refuse to believe any other opinion on this. No matter how big a hero this guy is...remember how he killed joker for jason? Someone he said he hated? Broke the no kill rule?? Yea imagine what he will do for you.

- and how dare u suggest he isn't jealous/ possessive. He gets so cranky..not insecure and u don't have to coddle him and avoid all other men ...but u do have to give him extra kisses

-HE IS THE REAL GREEN FLAG fuck the whole " a hero will sacrifice you for the world but a villain will burn the world for you" NOT HIM NO HE WILL KILL EVERYONE OKAY cuz how date anyone suggest taking you away from him after everything he has done for the world. You are his reward and you better remember that.

- slow waltzing in the kitchen while he sings you his favorite love song, giggling in a pretty cafe while sharing a piece of cake( he is feeding you the whole thing and will kiss you when u Ask why he isn't eating any himself) , getting tipsy and walking back home all sweet and drunk and in love. He is adventurous and wants to experience everything With you.

- best part, everyone around u will love him. I'm sorry but I like it when my bf is liked by the old ladies and my parents and my boss. He will make you the power couple, even if you aren't as "powerful". He is your biggest loudest supporter always. Always introducing you to ppl as if you cured world hunger , telling everyone just how smart and kind you are taking any opportunity to talk about You. And dancing with him at galas makes you feel like a princess

- he will get the best gifts, say the sweetest things, be the most supportive kind eyes only for you guy once he genuinely falls in love.

I love jason a lot too, and tim and bruce too. Like yes I daydream about all of them But I just hate how underrated my boy here is.

[kamisama1kiss]

IM SHAKINH PLEADE WTOYE GOR SALLY FACR

YESSS 🫡🫡 I love writing for Sally Face, so this was something I had very fun writing around with🫶🤭

~~~

What would be their type of love language? {Sally Face Headcanons}

~ Sal Fisher ~

Physical touch

- He melts into your touch like a cat laying in the sun.

- He was very awkward with the first touch of anything hugs, kisses, hand holding, cuddles, and so on and so forth.

- Only growing more and more comfort in your overall aura.

- Holding hands or minimum pinky while walking and in public, feeling some sort of safety when having you close and being able to easily reach out if anything.

- This also happens with his lack of physical touch of growing up after his mother's passing.

- When your cuddles give him a sense of stability, even more so when waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. (sadly often so)

- The very first time your hands gently cupped his unmasked face, tears streamed down his face, warmth of someone's touch felt healing after such a long time.

Acts of service

- Loved to do even the simplest of tasks for you

- Would help with folding laundry, wash the dishes, making your bed

- Every task turned into a duo project with him around. He refused to let you do chores or anything in the matter of fact alone.

- You're doing the dishes, he finds out and boom he is next to you drying the dishes

- Even bringing you small little snacks or drinks as he noticed your lack of intake for the day

- Legit, if anything can make your day even just a little easier, he simply just does it.

~ Larry Johnson ~

Quality time

- You want to spend alone time in your room? Think again it's alone time WITH Larry in your room

- Even if there was no speaking or interaction as he could be painting and you doing who knows what

- Knowing you we're there, knowing he isn't alone only made him fall more in love with you. (If that's even possible?)

- Larry has to go to the store for his mother? He will drag you along with him.

- Jumps at any chance to have you by his side, even for a mere moment.

- Of course, if you genuinely need space, he respects it and comes back when you feel better. Just know he'll be a tiny bit clingy for the next hours or so depending on how long the time separated was.

Words of affirmation

- This man has a way with words like no other. It's almost as if he has been practising for this very moment

- Coming up behind you with no warning, giving you a compliment

- Daily reminds you how proud he is of you for doing your absolutely best, knowing there are hard times for everyone at many moments of their life

- When in more of a public places he can come up with a few smaller comments such as "You've truly been helpful all day." Or "Thank you for being here with me" and words such alike these.

- Now, when we talk more of private settings, he'll get more personal and sentimental. "You make every moment we spend feel like a breath of fresh air." Or "I am truly the luckiest boyfriend, with someone like you on my side"

~~~

I've reached over 1000 likes all together with all my posts! I am so very happy and grateful for anyone who has interacted with any of my content 😚🫶