#poly axis

[art-emis99]

stupid undertale yellow doodles because the release of the moti uty bytes made me insane for it again. yeah

[ckgrouchy]

hey guys, request me characters to draw, preferrably rcp or hetalia, it can be any character/ships regardless of what i ship (i will also take ocs of said fandoms)

i am in need of some real inspiration rn

[jinxedshapeshifter]

I think Porygon is one of my favorite Pokémon tbh

Porygon sounds like polygon (and is a romanization of the Japanese pronunciation of polygon)

Porygon evolves into Porygon2

It essentially goes from low poly to high poly

It's honestly such a fun detail and I absolutely love it

[genlosscharliie]

world's worst polycule (america excluded)

[kwimii999]

Tutorial : How to make roads with car parking space

When I first started using the create a world tool, I immediatly wanted to make roads with car parking space. The only world where I had seen these types of roads were in Boroughsburg by potato-ballad-sims. So, I searched up the internet as one would do when you don't know how to do something and nothing until I found this post by krrank on their forum. I already knew how to make roads at that time. In fact, it was only when I saw her showcase of dirt roads, that I saw how there was a way to make roads larger to then add cars parked on the side. Now, because I haven't found a proper tutorial on how to actually do that, I decided to make my own tutorial and share how I managed to do it. It's not as perfect as Boroughsburg in term of sidewalk intersections (because I'm not the best at texture editing) but enough to have the look of parked cars, which can make a town look so much more lively.

What I'm assuming before this tutorial :

You're familiar with the CAW tool

you know how to place roads

you know how to create roads using textures provided by EA or CC road textures

You know how to add custom content for CAW (only applicable if you don't own the university EP)

The downside

The only downside with these roads is that sims will walk/run through the cars when going somewhere because we're basically using the sidewalk as parking space. To balance that out, I suggest using hybrid roads in your world : normal roads with normal sidewalks and roads with parking space.

On the left we have a road with car parking space

On the right a normal road with sidewalks

Step 1 : Choosing your road textures

Example of what it should look like :

Possible question #1

" Okay but there's no sidewalk now, what do I do ? " : Simple ! Place independent sidewalks on the side. A bit like this (ignore the fact that this is not completly aligned to the grid) :

Step 2 : Placing cars on the road

I highly suggest using cars that are meant for decoration and aren't high poly. If you're using super CAW do not use the drivable cars that can be bought in game. In my case, I used the debug cars from the university EP meant for decoration and lowered them until it hid the parking curb. If you don't have the university EP, the world CC from Boroughsburg includes deco cars used for the purpose of parked deco cars !

Do not put too many cars on the roads (I only do it because I do not care since I'm making my own personal world, but if you intend to share the world you're making, limit the cars that you put on the streets)

How to hide the parking curb (for university cars) :

Lower your car's position (Y axis, green line) to : 15,4 - (Good enough height to hide the concrete curb and only hides a tiny bit of the car's wheels)

Don't forget to rotate (Y axis) the cars to the right direction. In fact, to be 100% accurate in the rotation placement of your cars, you can write the exact degree in the board that appears when you select an object. So, basically : 90 / -90 OR 180 / -180

Possible question #2

"In what direction should I rotate the cars ?" : Here's a reminder of traffic directions in game :

And that's about it. Hope this will be useful to anyone who was wondering how to make larger roads and add cars parked directly on the street :)

[nightsmarish]

Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆

History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Plan

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: It's the boys' turn to enact their plan. Warnings: Chronic pain, smut (group sex, fingering, p-in-v, multiple creampies) Series Masterlist | Part 1

"Now that you've had your fun," he murmurs, lips brushing against your jawline, "can we proceed with our plan?"

The question stirs a flutter of anticipation within you, but also a sense of unease. You furrow your brow, considering the implications of his words.

"Your plan?" Your voice is barely a whisper, taut with both curiosity and apprehension. "What are you planning?"

You ask, though part of you fears the answer, another part yearns for the promise of change, of hope. Sirius's grin doesn't waver, only widens, revealing the reckless edge that always seems to accompany his bravado.

"Just lie back and let us take care of you," he suggests, the twinkle in his eye belying the gravity of what he implies.

"That doesn't exactly clarify anything," you retort, and James chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you as if you're intimately connected.

"Do you trust us?" James's question hangs in the air, heavy with implications, as he begins to loosen your jeans. His gaze never leaves yours, a silent challenge that quickens your pulse.

"Yes." The word slips from your lips before you can fully comprehend the gravity of what you're saying, but James appears satisfied. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he nods, acknowledging your consent. His thumb traces slow circles on your lower abdomen, just above the waistband of your jeans, and you shiver under the feather-light touch.

"We want to take care of you," James murmurs, the words a soft promise against your skin. His fingers deftly unbutton your jeans, the action slow and deliberate, his touch lingering even as he moves to pull them down. All the while, Sirius watches, his eyes never leaving the sight of James's hands on you.

Your breath hitches as James hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down in a smooth motion that leaves you bare to their gazes. He follows the path with kisses, each one burning into your skin as he descends to kneel between your spread thighs. Remus leans against the wall, his eyes locked onto yours as his hand moves rhythmically his cock, stroking himself back to being hard. His hair is tousled, lips slightly parted as he watches you, and the sight of him so undone by desire sends a jolt of anticipation through you.

The air is thick with want, each breath you take filled with the scent of them—of sweat and cologne and something distinctly male. Sirius leans down to capture your lips once more, and the world tilts on its axis. His tongue explores your mouth, possessive and demanding, stoking the fire within you until you're certain you'll be consumed by it.

"Impatient, are we?" you manage to breathe out when he pulls back, his eyes darkened by a hunger that mirrors your own.

"Always," he whispers, the warmth of his breath dancing across your skin. His fingers trace a path down your side, edging beneath the lace waistband of your underwear. The rough pads of his knuckles glide against your sensitive flesh, drawing a sharp intake of breath from you as your hips instinctively buck towards him. You yearn for more—more contact, more friction—to quell the fire that's been ignited within.

But Sirius doesn't yield to your silent plea just yet. He teases, his fingertips ghosting along the edge of your underwear, tantalisingly close to where you need him most. His lips move with yours in a deepening kiss, his tongue pressing forward as if seeking answers to unspoken questions. But then you feel it—a firm hand, not Sirius's, pushing his away from your underwear. James's fingers curl around the lace, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he tugs them down slowly, exposing you completely. Your clit pulses with anticipation, aching for the touch that has been promised.

The wait becomes unbearable as James leaves you hanging, his gaze fixated on your bare form like a predator eyeing its prey. You let out a frustrated whine, earning a soft chuckle from Remus who leans against the wall, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. The sound of his low laughter only stokes the fire within you, fuelled further by Sirius's lips marking your neck.

Finally, the torment ends—or rather, it takes a different form. James's fingers find their way back to you, tracing slow circles around your outer folds. He's achingly close to your swollen clit but never quite touching it, the promise of contact making you whimper in need.

"Please," you gasp, the desperation clear in your voice. You no longer care how needy you sound—the desire coursing through your veins demands satisfaction, and you're past the point of denying it.

Your hips rise off the bed, seeking his touch once more, but he pulls back, leaving you bereft. A whimper escapes your lips, a sound of pure frustration.

"James," you breathe, not caring how desperate you sound. His expression is unreadable, and it only serves to increase your confusion. How can he be so aloof when there's so much desire between you?

"Please," you plead, unable to keep the quiver from your voice. "Touch me."

A low chuckle rumbles from Remus' direction, drawing your gaze to him. He's watching, his eyes filled with amusement and something darker, something that makes your heart pound against your ribcage.

"Stop teasing her, Prongs," Remus says, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's almost cruel."

"I just want to see her beg," James replies, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he meets your gaze. There's a cruel satisfaction in his eyes, one that makes your stomach flutter with anticipation and dread.

Sirius lets out a low sigh and reaches between your legs himself. His fingers find your clit, and you gasp as he applies a gentle pressure. He circles the sensitive nub with a firm touch, coaxing a moan from your lips. The relief is immediate, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making your head spin.

But then Sirius pulls away, leaving you hanging on the precipice. You whimper at the loss, your hips bucking up in silent plea. "You're so needy," he whispers against your skin, his warm breath raising goosebumps along your flesh.

"God, Sirius," you gasp, trying to sound stern but failing as your voice breaks with desperation. "Don't tease."

"But begging looks so good on you." James's voice is a low growl, resonating with primal desire. He continues his ministrations unabated, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin, stoking the fire within.

Desire flares within you, hot and urgent, making you curse the traitorous way your body yearns for their touch. Sirius lowers his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and you cry out as he bites down gently. Pleasure spikes through you, sharp and sweet, before he soothes the sting with languid strokes of his tongue.

James' thumb finds your clit, slick with lube. He circles it slowly, his touch light but insistent. The pleasure builds in you like a wave gathering strength, each stroke pushing you toward the crest.

The heat of his hand against your bare skin contrasts sharply with the cool air of the room, every point of contact a flare of sensation. His fingers dance over your folds, tracing paths that have your breath hitching.

"Fuck," you groan, hips lifting to meet his touch as he changes the rhythm. Now his strokes are purposeful, no longer teasing but intent on driving you toward release. His thumb presses down harder on your clit, and a shudder racks your body.

But he doesn't relent. Instead, his movements become more deliberate, alternating between firm pressure and feather-light caresses that leave you writhing beneath him. Your fingers dig into the sheets, grasping for something solid as James continues to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

His hand trails lower, fingers teasing at your entrance while his mouth finds your clit. Before you can draw a full breath, he's sucking there, hot and wet, and it's almost too much. His tongue flicks against the sensitive bud as he slides a finger inside you. You feel the pressure building, your inner walls clamping down on him instinctively.

You want to move against his hand and mouth, but each shift sends a jolt of pain shooting through your hips. It's a stark reminder of reality, grounding you amidst the sea of desire that threatens to pull you under.

"Love, are you alright?" Remus' voice cuts through the haze, concern lacing his words as he watches your face contort with both pleasure and pain.

"Yes," you manage to choke out, though it comes out more like a whimper. "Just... need a moment."

James pulls back immediately, ceasing his ministrations. His fingers, slick with your arousal, retreat and instead, draw soothing circles along your inner thigh. "What hurts?"

"My hips," you manage to say, wincing as you try to adjust your position.

"Let's try this," Sirius suggests, his hands carefully guiding you onto your side. The change in position brings some relief, the pressure on your lower back lessening slightly. His grey eyes meet yours, mirroring the same concern that lingers in Remus'. "Better?" he asks, and you nod, if only a little.

"Yes," you breathe out, the word barely more than a whisper. A small smile tugs at the corners of Sirius' mouth, not one of amusement but of relief. He brushes a stray lock of hair away from your forehead, his touch feather-light against your skin.

James moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze intent on your exposed centre. There's an unmistakable hunger in his eyes, even now, when pleasure is secondary to the potential for pain. He reaches out, his thumb tracing along the curve of your lips before pressing gently, parting them with a reverence that belies his usual bravado.

"You're beautiful," James murmurs, his voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of pounding heartbeats and shallow breaths. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on the sheen of perspiration that clings to your skin, the flush spreading across your cheeks, your breasts rising and falling with each ragged inhale. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, a testament to your desire for not just one, but all three men who now lay claim to your pleasure.

And they crave you with equal fervor. Remus continues his steady strokes, the sight of you spread before them too much to resist. James and Sirius are both achingly hard, and at some point, they’d shed their clothes, but they pay no mind to their own arousal. All their attention is focused on you, watching as your body responds to their every touch.

Your hand moves to reciprocate, reaching for Sirius's arousal, but he captures your wrist in his firm grasp. "Not now, baby," he breathes into your ear, his voice a soft growl that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers lower, finding the sensitive nub at your apex. He begins circling it with a slow, steady rhythm that has you arching against him. "Tonight is about you."

You whimper in response, your head falling back onto the pillow as pleasure curls within your belly. Your body reacts to their touches, aching and yearning for more of their attention. You give a small nod, consenting to their ministrations.

Sirius continues his gentle assault on your clit as James pushes two fingers inside you. The stretch burns, your body adjusting to the intrusion, but the discomfort soon gives way to pure pleasure. Your hips shift, seeking more contact, more pressure and James obliges, his fingers curling within you.

"Fuck," you gasp out, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Every brush of Sirius's fingers against your clit sends jolts of electricity coursing through you, each one stronger than the last. James's fingers move in time with Sirius's strokes, a symphony of sensation that leaves you writhing beneath them.

Your voice is a broken whisper, your plea barely more than a breath. You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes half-closed with need, and the smirk on his face says he knows just how desperate you are. James adds a third finger inside you, stretching you further as his thumb takes over from Sirius on your clit. He rubs it in slow circles, applying just enough pressure to keep the pleasure mounting.

His thumb continues its steady pace over your clit, each stroke sending shocks of pleasure through you that make your toes curl. The knot in your body tightens with every pass, wound up and ready to snap. As James shifts his fingers inside you, the sensation changes, hitting an angle that steals your breath away. When he curls them just right, striking that elusive spot, your vision swims.

"Ah—!" You gasp, your back arching. The pressure builds, your body on the precipice of something monumental.

"That's it," Sirius murmurs into your ear, teeth grazing your neck. "Let us make you feel good."

The roughness of his voice sends shivers down your spine, your body responding to his command before your mind can catch up. Your hips buck against James's hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Yes," you breathe out, the word barely a whisper.

"You like that, baby?" Sirius asks, his hot breath fanning over your skin. He bites down gently on your neck, marking you as his, and you respond with a nod, too lost in the sensations to form words.

The bite sends another jolt of desire coursing through you, adding fuel to the already roaring fire within. Every touch, every whisper, every look from them adds another layer to this exquisite torture, pushing you further and further towards the edge until you're teetering, ready to fall.

"Please," you gasp, the word barely a breath, your hips grinding against the rhythm of his fingers. Your body arches, pressing into James's touch, seeking more—a deeper, harder friction.

His fingers move faster inside you, their pads rough against your slick walls. The pressure builds as he curls them, hitting that spot deep within you over and over. Sirius’s mouth finds your neck, biting gently at the tender skin, his hands exploring the curves of your body with an almost reverent touch.

Across the room, Remus watches, his eyes dark with desire. He strokes himself slowly, savouring the sight of you writhing between the boys. Your soft moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure that stirs his arousal, yet he remains where he is, watching and waiting for you to beckon him closer.

James's thumb circles your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, driving you closer to the edge with each calculated movement. Your legs tremble, muscles tightening around him as your body threatens to unravel.

You sense Remus stepping closer, his body radiating heat as he moves to the edge of the bed. His hand still strokes himself, his gaze locked on the scene unfolding before him. You can see the desire in his eyes, matching the intensity of James and Sirius's attention. It's intoxicating, the way they all focus on you, their every action designed to coax pleasure from your trembling form. But it's also disorienting, the room spinning slightly as you fight to keep yourself grounded. You want them to feel this too, to experience the ecstasy they're bringing you. They deserve that much.

James's thumb finds your clit again, pressing down in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers inside you. Each stroke sends a jolt through your body, heightening the sensations coursing through your veins. It's almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as you struggle to keep up. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your mind reeling from the onslaught of sensation. You lose yourself in it, letting the feeling consume you until there's nothing left but raw, primal need. It's so intense that you nearly forget about the burning desire to reach climax, to find release from the tension building within you.

Almost, but not quite. The frustration simmers below the surface, a tight knot in your stomach that refuses to unravel no matter how hard you try. You can feel it there, just out of reach, taunting you with its elusive promise of relief. The more you chase it, the further it seems to recede, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

The next touch comes from Sirius, his mouth closing over your nipple with a sureness that sends sparks shooting through your veins. He suckles with an intensity that has you gasping, arching into the sensation as pleasure sharpens into something bordering on pain.

Remus shifts to the other side of the bed, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is both an apology and a promise. His hand mirrors Sirius's actions, teasing your other breast until your skin is alive with want. You taste your moans on his tongue, hear them echoed in the low growl that vibrates against your chest.

It's too much and not enough, all at once. The room spins with the intoxicating mix of sensations, yet you crave more—more of their touch, their taste, their presence pressing in on all sides.

You feel each stroke of Sirius's tongue like a brand, every squeeze of Remus's fingers like they're moulding you anew. James's hand delves lower, tracing paths across your stomach that make your hips buck, seeking friction against nothing but air. Your breaths come in shallow pants, your heart pounding a desperate rhythm against your ribs.

The pressure mounts, each touch a promise of the release you crave. But as your body strains towards its peak, something holds you back. The climax you yearn for remains elusive, an echo of pleasure that dances just out of reach.

"Fuck," you gasp, the word torn from your lips by frustration and need. "I can't... I need..."

James pulls away abruptly, leaving you bereft and aching, your body thrumming with unfulfilled desire. His eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that mirrors your own, but there's a calculating edge to his gaze.

"No," you protest, voice hoarse. "Don't stop. Please."

A wicked smile plays on his lips, but it's not satisfaction that fuels it—it's anticipation. "We're not stopping, love. Far from it."

Relief washes over you, followed by a fresh wave of confusion. If they're not stopping, then what are they doing? You look to James for answers, but he only watches you, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin and heaving chest.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, tracing a finger along the curve of your hip. "So desperate, so needy. You'd take anything we give you, wouldn't you?" His words aren't really a question—they're a challenge, and despite the rawness of your body, you find yourself nodding, eager for whatever they have planned.

"Maybe it's time we give her what she wants," Remus suggests, his voice velvet over steel. He leans in closer, his lips hovering just beside your ear. The warmth of his breath fans across your cheek, making you shiver. "We each have an idea of how to make you cum. So who do you want first?"

"I can't," you breathe out, the edges of your vision blurring as the pleasure continues to build. "I can't choose."

"Then let's go from least likely to most likely," James decides. He reaches for his wand and Sirius reluctantly pulls away, allowing James to slide in beside you. You wrap a leg around his waist, drawing him closer. He grips the base of his cock and strokes it a few times, eyes never leaving yours.

"What are you going to do?" you ask, breathless as he reaches for the bottle of lube.

He glances over his shoulder at Remus and Sirius before looking back at you. "I'm going to fuck you," he says, voice low and full of promise. "And while I do, I'm going to cast a spell that heightens your sensations."

Your heart hammers in your chest as he begins to lube up his cock. The thought of what's to come sends a thrill of anticipation through you. Three men, each with their own unique approach to pleasure, ready to claim you in turn.

"But it doesn't stop there," James continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "Once I've finished, Sirius will take my place. He'll use a different spell, one that acts like a muggle vibrator."

A whimper escapes your lips at the thought, your body already aching for more. You can't imagine what this spell will feel like, how it could possibly enhance what you're already experiencing. But you trust James, trust them all, and so you nod, giving him permission to continue.

"Good girl," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you once more. His lips move against yours, a soothing balm to the storm of desire raging within you. "And after Sirius... Remus is going to use a toy on you, a suction one, right on your clit while he fucks you. It'll be... intense."

"God," you moan, the word barely a whisper as heat floods your core. The idea of it all, the promise of what's to come, has your head spinning. But even amidst the whirlwind of sensation, one thing is clear: you want this. You want them, all three of them, and everything they have to offer.

A thrill of anticipation shivers through you as James murmurs a warming charm, his fingers deftly tracing a path over your clit. The magic sends a rush of heat to your core and your thighs quiver in response, the pleasure building with every gentle stroke.

"Fuck," you gasp, your back arching off the bed as the warmth intensifies, each pulse more potent than the last. Your vision blurs with the intensity of it, the world narrowing down to the sensation between your legs.

Then, with an incantation you don't recognise, he amplifies your sensitivity even further, making you acutely aware of every tiny movement, every breath that fans across your skin.

The soft whimper that escapes your lips is involuntary when he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds. You're wet and ready for him, but the need to feel him inside you is so overwhelming that your hips lift involuntarily, seeking contact.

James doesn't make you wait any longer; with a low groan, he pushes forward, sinking into you. His eyes slip shut, and you can almost taste his pleasure in the way his muscles tense and relax as he begins to move. The creak of the bed beneath you is drowned out by your own moans, each one a testament to how good he feels inside you.

Every nerve ending in your body is alight with sensation, but you barely register the way your fingernails dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. He fills you completely, and the friction of his cock against your walls is just right—enough to keep you teetering on the edge, but not enough to send you over.

"Fuck," James breathes, a swear that's half groan and half prayer. His hand tightens on your hip, fingers pressing into the tender flesh as he moves, slow and measured within you. The warmth around your clit is almost unbearable, amplified by the rhythm of his body against yours. Each stroke sends tremors through you, waves lapping at the shore of your senses before receding, only to return with even greater intensity.

Your breath hitches in your throat, a gasp that's swallowed by the night. Your muscles clench around him, a silent plea for more. He answers with a low growl, his pace quickening. Heat flares along your skin, the friction between your bodies sparking a fire that threatens to consume you both.

James' grip on your hips is unyielding, each thrust driving him deeper, harder. Anticipation coils tight within you, a spring wound up to its breaking point. And then, with one final, devastating push, he breaches the last barrier of your restraint, sending you hurtling over the edge into ecstasy.

Remus and Sirius watch in rapt attention as James begins to move against you, the rhythm slow but unyielding. His moans fill the room, a testament to the pleasure coursing through him, but they are only a backdrop to the symphony of your own rising desire.

Their gazes burn into your skin, sending shivers down your spine even as James's hands explore your body. You can see the shared need reflected in their eyes, the hunger that mirrors your own. It's intoxicating, this dance of desire, made all the more potent by the presence of those who share it with you.

Sirius reaches out, his hand closing around one of your breasts with an urgency that matches the rhythm of your bodies. The unexpected touch sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and you arch your back, a low moan escaping your lips. Your nipples harden under his touch, each flick of his thumb sending waves of pleasure radiating through your chest.

But despite the mounting tension within you, release remains just out of reach. It's infuriating and exhilarating all at once, the promise of climax hanging in the air like an unspoken vow. You dig your fingers into James's shoulders as he thrusts into you, the friction between your bodies sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.

Sweat beads on your skin, the heat between you both intense and unrelenting. It slickens the movement, each slide of James's body against yours sending shudders through you both. He maintains a steady pace, the rhythm familiar yet overwhelming, each push coaxing another moan from your throat.

His breath is hot on your neck, the sound of it a steady whisper in your ear. One of his hands leaves your hip to trail down your body, fingers seeking out the source of your pleasure. When he finds it, you gasp, lifting your hips to meet his touch. Your body reacts instinctively, craving the contact that promises to tip you over the edge.

Your eyes flutter shut, a whimper escaping your lips as you bite down on the soft flesh of your bottom lip to stifle the scream threatening to break free. The additional stimulation is almost too much, pushing you closer to the edge, but still not enough to send you over.

James's thumb moves in slow circles around your sensitised pearl, his smirk one of pure satisfaction as he watches you unravel. Desperate for more, you grind your hips into his hand, seeking the friction that will tip you over the edge, but James simply holds you steady, his rhythm unyielding as he plunges into you again and again.

Leaning in, Sirius captures your lips with his own, drawing you into a dizzying kiss that makes your head tilt back to offer him better access. His breath is hot against your skin, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving deeper, his pace matching James's. You moan into his mouth, the added sensation amplifying everything until you're on the brink once more, squirming beneath their touch.

You push your hips harder against James's hand, but his fingers falter, the sudden pause in his rhythm leaving you gasping, the need for release becoming unbearable. Your body tenses, and a whine of frustration escapes your throat, the pent-up pleasure begging for release.

"Fuck!" You gasp, breaking the kiss with Sirius to look at James with eyes that plead for mercy. "Please, James, I need...just...ugh!"

The tension inside you feels unbearable, and every time you think you're close to finding release, it slips away. Frustration builds into a low growl against Sirius's lips, and he doesn't laugh at your desperation this time.

"Shh, I know, love. Just relax," James murmurs against your ear, still moving inside you with a control that's maddening in its precision. Then, almost simultaneously, Sirius's thumb begins to circle your clit while James mutters a spell under his breath. The sensation on your nipples intensifies, making them ache with a sudden sharpness that steals your breath.

The combination is heady, a symphony of pleasure that lights sparks from your breasts to your core. You can't help but arch into their touches, the enchanted heat winding tighter within you. Yet despite the crescendo of sensations, release remains tantalisingly out of reach.

"Please," you gasp, voice rough with need. "I... I can't..."

You writhe, hips undulating against Sirius's insistent touch, seeking the relief that dangles just beyond your grasp. But they don't relent, the intensity building until you're certain you'll shatter.

"Ah," James groans, the sensation of your hardened nipples brushing against his chest only adding to the delicious friction. "You are going to cum for us. We won't stop until we've done that, but I... Merlin... I may not last much longer."

His confession sends a thrill through you, as if his impending release is another form of control he's surrendering to you. You feel him throb inside you, the pulsating rhythm matching the frantic beat of your heart.

"I don't know how much more I can..."

"Cum for me, James." Your voice is no more than a breathless whisper in his ear, yet it carries the weight of command. Your legs wrap tighter around him, drawing him deeper still. "Please. I want you to cum."

And with that, he shatters. His thrusts become erratic, his grip on you tightening as if you are the only tether to reality. The pulsing heat of him sends waves of pleasure through your core, but it's not enough to tip you over the edge.

"Fuck," he gasps out, chest heaving as he collapses beside you. His body is slick with sweat, muscles twitching from the aftershocks of release. You smile at the ceiling, reaching up to push damp strands of hair from your forehead.

"That's good," you murmur, turning onto your side to face him. His eyes are half-lidded, clouded with satiation and something warmer, softer. You lean in, pressing a slow kiss to his lips, savouring the taste of him—salt and sweetness, desire and relief.

When you finally pull away, his smile is lazy, the flush on his cheeks deepening under your scrutiny. The corners of his mouth lift in a satisfied grin, one that speaks volumes of the pleasure he's just experienced. But his satisfaction is short-lived because there's still unfinished business between the sheets—you've yet to find your own release.

Sirius's eyes flicker with anticipation as he shifts, positioning himself between your spread thighs. They're slick with James's release and lube, and now, they're ready for more. Sirius guides himself, sliding the head of his cock up and down your folds, spreading the mixture of fluids around.

James passes the wand to Sirius, who takes it with a knowing smirk. "Let me help you with that," he says, his voice low and full of promise. He angles the wand just right, directing its tip towards your clit. As he utters the incantation, a pulse of magic surges from the wand, sending waves of vibration through your body. You gasp, your back arching as pleasure radiates from your core. Your hips jerk instinctively, seeking more of the sensation that threatens to consume you.

"Patience, love," Sirius says, his voice a teasing caress that matches the rhythm of the wand. He moves to position himself at your entrance, replacing James's absence with his own girth.

The stretch is more noticeable with Sirius, his thickness a contrast to James's length. Yet there's an odd sense of completion as he fills you, as though each man offers something different yet equally satisfying.

Sirius sets a rhythm, steady and deep, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches every reaction. Your pleasure is mirrored in the depths of his grey gaze, the firelight flickering across them, casting shadows that only add to the intimate atmosphere.

"Talk to me," he commands, his voice a low growl. "Tell me how it feels."

The words are barely a whisper, lost in the space between your bodies. "It's... incredible." You arch into him, chasing the sensation as he thrusts deeper, hitting just the right spot. A moan escapes your lips, unbidden but entirely warranted given the circumstances.

"You're perfect," Sirius grunts, the strain evident in his voice. The charm continues its relentless assault on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you each time he moves. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, blurring the line between pain and pleasure until all that exists is this moment.

Your head falls back, your body arching instinctively towards the source of your pleasure. Sirius follows your movements, adjusting his angle to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over again. Each thrust sends stars bursting behind your closed eyelids, the world narrowing down to the feel of him inside you, the sound of your ragged breaths filling the room.

You're barely aware of the lips that trace a path along the back of your neck, the warmth of breath on your ear a stark contrast to the slight roughness of stubble against your skin. The hands on your hips are firm, holding you steady as Sirius continues to ravage your senses from the front. His fingers dance across your skin, every touch igniting tiny sparks under the surface, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

Remus's voice is low, almost a growl, as he leans in closer, his body a wall of heat behind you. "Beautiful," he murmurs, the word barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breathing. He's watching you, you realise, taking in every reaction, every shiver and gasp that passes your lips.

The praise sends a thrill through you, stoking the fire within until it threatens to consume you completely. You're teetering on the edge, the world narrowing down to the feel of their hands on your body, their voices in your ears. There's an urgency now, a need that claws at your insides, demanding to be sated.

"Good girl," Remus whispers, his words a lifeline as you drown in sensation. "So good for us."

But despite their efforts, the release you crave remains just out of reach. The pleasure is intense, overwhelming, yet something holds you back from the edge. Sirius can sense it, feel your frustration mirroring his own as he drives into you harder, faster, desperate to tip you over into bliss. He's close too, so close, his breathing erratic and strained as he urges you on.

"Please," he growls, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "Just let go, love. You're so close... I can feel it..."

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, anchoring him to you as he seeks his own release. But it's your pleasure he craves, the sight of you undone beneath him that will send him spiralling into ecstasy. He can feel it building within you, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust, each moan that escapes your lips.

"Sirius," you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "Please..."

Your nails drag down his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The sharp sting only spurs him on, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. He's losing control, and the thought sends a jolt of arousal through you, intensifying the pleasure that threatens to consume you both.

The pressure of Remus' hands against your hips is a grounding presence, anchoring you when every nerve ending screams for release. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you steady as Sirius continues to thrust, the rhythm unrelenting. The vibrating spell on your clit hums with an intensity that borders on too much, threatening to rip you apart at the seams.

"Fuck," you gasp, head falling back against Remus' shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut, the room spinning as pleasure coalesces into a single point of blinding light. It dances just out of reach, tantalising and maddening in equal measure.

Sirius doesn't let up, his movements growing rougher, more desperate. The bed creaks under the weight of your tangled bodies, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and sex and magic.

Every fibre of your being is wound tight, strung taut between the promise of release and the fear of losing control. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sensation so intense it's almost painful. And then, as if sensing your struggle, Remus' voice cuts through the fog of pleasure once more.

"Trust us," he whispers, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "We've got you."

But you remain stubbornly stuck on that precipice, teetering on the edge, unable to fall into the delicious abyss that awaits below.

"Fuck, I—" Sirius's words cut off with a growl, his teeth gritted against the onslaught of sensation. One final, powerful thrust and he stills, his body taut as a bowstring. You can feel him pulsing inside you, each throb sending ripples through your senses, even as your own climax remains frustratingly out of reach.

Sirius’s lips find your collarbone, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat before his tongue traces a path upwards to your ear. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, the words a rough caress against your skin. His voice is thick with desire, the darkness in it hinting at promises yet unfulfilled.

The sensation of Sirius pulling out is almost too much to bear, a keen sense of loss chasing the echoes of pleasure. The magic that had been dancing on your clit ceases, leaving you bereft and whining softly in the hollow stillness.

"Don’t worry, we're not finished," Remus's voice is a soothing balm, his hands warm and reassuring as they trace patterns on your skin, igniting the path for what's to come. He pulls you back towards him, your hips meeting his in a rhythm that promises more pleasure—different this time.

"Are you ready for something new?" His words are heavy with anticipation, a soft growl that makes your stomach flutter in response.

Before you can answer, he presses a small device against your clit, a different form of magic buzzing to life. It's not like the vibrating spell—this one feels more... suction-like—and you let out a low whine at the unexpected sensation. Your clit is already sensitive from the earlier spell, throbbing with need, but you don't care about the overstimulation. You're teetering on the edge, desperate for release.

"That's it... Let yourself feel everything." His breath fans across your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You sound so beautiful when you lose control."

His fingers slip between your folds once more, gathering your arousal before he replaces them with the tip of his hardened length. He presses in slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size before he starts moving inside you. The sensation is almost too much—his cock filling you whilst the toy continues its relentless pressure on your clit.

"Fuck," Remus groans as he enters you fully, his hand gripping your hip tightly. He sets a slow, deliberate pace, thrusting into you while keeping the toy firmly against your clit. But it's not enough—you need more, your hips pushing back to meet him, seeking the intensity that only he can give.

"Easy, love," he breathes against your skin, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder blade. His control is slipping, and you can sense it—feel it—in every stroke.

But you're past reason now, desperate for release. "I can't, Remus... I need..." Your voice trails off, unable to articulate the urgency coursing through your veins.

A low hum grows louder as the toy increases its pace, the suction pulling at your sensitive bud in a rhythm designed to drive you mad. Each pulse sends a jolt through your body, drawing gasps from your lips and leaving you writhing against the bed.

"Please," you whimper, the word barely audible over the sounds of your own pleasure. "Please..."

The slow drag of Remus's cock within you is nothing short of exquisite torture, each thrust calculated to keep you teetering on the edge of release without granting you the sweet relief you crave. Your hips buck into his, seeking more contact, more friction, but he maintains his relentless pace, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still.

A gasp rips from your throat as the toy buzzes against a particularly sensitive spot, your eyes rolling back as you arch into the sensation. A smirk pulls at Remus's lips, his thumb swiping over the controls to increase the intensity. The sudden change has your breath hitching, your body tightening as pleasure edges you closer to release.

"Fuck," you breathe, your hands clenching in the sheets as your body writhes under the onslaught of sensations. "Remus, I can't..."

But your plea falls on deaf ears—or perhaps it is simply ignored. Either way, the toy against your clit is relentless, pushing you ever closer to the precipice you're not sure you're ready to tumble over.

"Please," you whimper again, your voice barely above a whisper, but the desperation behind it is palpable. It's a plea for mercy, for release, for him to take you there—and yet, he doesn't relent.

Instead, his movements become more purposeful, more forceful. His hips meet yours with each thrust, driving him deeper inside you. Each time he hits that spot within, a jolt of pleasure courses through you and converges with the relentless rhythm of the toy against your clit. It's too much—too intense—but it's also not enough, leaving you teetering on the brink, desperate for the release that is just out of reach.

You've never felt this close, and Remus knows it by the way you're tightening around him. His lips quirk in a satisfied smirk as he keeps the toy pressed firmly against your clit. The suction sends waves of pleasure through you, making your hips buck back against him, despite his attempt to hold you still so he can continue. Your breaths come fast and desperate, each one sounding more strained than the last.

The ache inside you pulses intensely, and your clit is so sensitive it borders on pain. You're swamped with sensation, focused entirely on that single, all-consuming point of desire.

Remus's grip on your hips tightens, his own breath hitching as he feels you clenching around him. He knows you're teetering on the edge, and there's an undeniable sense of relief for both of you as this intense build-up finally nears its peak.

The sounds of James and Sirius are there too, their breaths hitching, their groans intermingling with your own. But it's Remus's moans that float above the rest, a low growl that vibrates against your skin. His hips move with purpose, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

"Remus," you whimper, your fingers curling into the sheets as you feel your climax building, coiling tight within your core. You're so close, teetering on the brink of release. You can taste it, the sweet promise of ecstasy that awaits just out of reach.

The tempo shifts, a sudden urgency replacing the steady rhythm. Remus is a force of nature, his movements as unpredictable and thrilling as a storm at sea. His breath gusts hot against your ear, the words he whispers there lost in the swell of sensation that threatens to drown you.

His grip tightens on the wand, the pressure against your sensitive flesh increasing until the vibrations become an irresistible pulse. It resonates within you, an echo of your own heartbeat that drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," you whimper, the word barely more than a breath, yet it carries the weight of your desperation. "Please."

"Let go for me," he whispers, his voice rough with shared need. It's a plea, a command wrapped in velvet tones that hits you like a tidal wave, resonating in the very core of your being.

And with those words, the dam breaks. A rush of pleasure so intense it borders on pain sweeps through you. It starts from the epicentre of your desire, radiating outwards until every nerve ending is ablaze with sensation. Your vision whites out, replaced by a burst of stars behind your eyelids as you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls.

Your body convulses, wracked by waves of ecstasy that leave no room for thought or reason. All that exists is the here and now, the overwhelming fullness of him inside you, and the relentless surge of pleasure that seems to go on forever.

Remus' length pulses as he finds his own release, hands splayed wide on your hips, grounding him to reality. His body tenses, a silent exclamation of climax before relaxing into a boneless heap, his movements slowing but not ceasing, drawing out your pleasure until you're left trembling in the aftermath.

Finally, when your muscles have stopped clenching around him and your breaths come in shallow gasps, Remus pulls away. You're left feeling empty yet fulfilled, your body humming with satisfaction even as exhaustion begins to take hold. Every limb feels heavy, yet you're weightless, floating on the remnants of shared ecstasy.

With a final shudder, you roll onto your back, chest heaving. Remus pulls the toy away from your overstimulated clit and you gasp, both relief and loss echoing through you. Your body feels like a battleground—exhausted yet humming with residual energy, muscles relaxed but also tensed as if bracing for an aftershock.

Every nerve ending feels raw, a dull ache beginning to settle in your lower abdomen. You're distantly aware of James and Sirius moving around in the bathroom, the sounds of water running and low voices discussing something you can't quite make out.

But it's Remus' voice that draws your attention back to the present.

"You alright, love?" he asks, concern lacing his words.

You turn your head towards him, blinking slowly as you take in the sight of his worried gaze. You manage a weak smile, lifting a shaky hand to brush away a lock of hair sticking to your forehead.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice hoarse. "I... I didn't know it could be like that. Thank you."

Remus's smile is warm as he shifts next to you, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead. "It's our pleasure, love. Always."

The door creaks open again, and Sirius steps back into the room, now clad in a pair of loose boxers. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, are clouded with concern. "Are you in any pain? Your hips were hurting earlier." His voice is gruff, laced with an undercurrent of something akin to fear.

You pause. Your joints were aching before you’d even got started, and there's a residual ache in your muscles, a tenderness that wasn't there before, but it's a good sort of soreness, a testament to the pleasure they'd coaxed from every fibre of your being. You nod, just once. "A bit, but that's to be expected."

A frown etches itself onto Remus's face as he processes your words, but he nods, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Alright, love," he murmurs, his voice softer now, like a balm to your frayed nerves. "How about a bath? It might help ease the tension in your muscles, and... well, you need to get clean."

You nod, surrendering to the idea. The thought of warm water enveloping your aching body brings a small measure of relief.

"We'll help you," James interjects, his voice steady despite the worry that lingers in his gaze. He moves towards you with calculated steps, testing the strength left in your limbs. His arms slide under you, careful not to jostle you too much, and he lifts you from the bed with a gentleness that belies his strength.

You don't protest, too tired to assert independence you're not sure you possess right now. You let him carry you, your body limp against his chest, as he navigates through the corridors toward the bathroom. The door swings open to reveal a tub filled with steamy water, bubbles clinging to the surface.

The water's warmth seeps into your muscles, loosening the painful knots that have formed over time. You let out a sigh, the first hint of relief washing over you. Remus hands you a washcloth, and you accept it with a nod of gratitude, cleaning yourself up.

For a few moments, all is quiet except for the gentle lapping of water against porcelain. You lean back against the tub, allowing the heat to work its magic on your body. Another sigh escapes your lips, this one less pained, more relieved.

"Feeling any better?" James' voice is soft, cautious, as if he's afraid to shatter the fragile peace that has fallen over the bathroom.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Yes," you whisper, "much better, thank you."

A silent exchange passes between you and James—a moment of understanding, an acknowledgement of the bond you share. You close your eyes again, leaning back against the tub's porcelain curve. The water's warmth seeps into your tired muscles, sapping the last vestiges of tension from your body.

"Okay, you're going to drown if you stay in there any longer," Remus jests, unplugging the drain. The water gurgles away, leaving a faint chill in its absence. You shift, suddenly aware of how refreshed your body feels—cleaned of sweat and grime, but also of some intangible weight.

James steps forward, offering a hand to steady you as you rise, muscles still weak from exertion. He wraps a towel around you, the plush fabric a stark contrast against your skin, still shivering despite the warmth of the room. Gently, he guides you to sit on the dry shower stool.

"Dry her off," Remus instructs James and Sirius, retreating to your bedroom for a moment. When he returns, he carries an armful of soft clothes—nothing fancy, just simple garments designed for comfort rather than style.

James and Sirius move with care, patting the towel against your skin with a gentleness that belies their earlier intensity. Every brush of cotton feels like a promise, a vow to keep you safe even from the smallest discomforts. You can't help but lean into their touch, finding solace in this unexpected tenderness.

The warmth of the towel envelops you as James helps you dry off, careful not to aggravate your injuries. Then he assists you in slipping on the fresh clothes Remus brought—a soft cotton shirt and lounge pants that feel like a balm to your battered skin. He lifts you up once more, carrying you back to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

As he lays you down, the soft pillows cradle your head, offering a comfort you haven't felt in what seems like forever. Sirius and Remus take their places on either side of you, their bodies a reassuring presence as they lay down with you on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Remus asks, his voice low and soothing. His hand reaches out, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face with a gentleness that makes your heart ache. His eyes, so full of concern and something deeper, never leave yours.

"Better," you admit, offering him a small but sincere smile. The warmth of the water has seeped into your aching muscles, coaxing them into reluctant relaxation. And their presence brings a sense of calm you always crave.

A soft touch traces the curve of your arm, raising goosebumps on your skin. Sirius's fingers lightly dance up and down, his movements almost reverent. "Just rest," he murmurs, the playful edge to his voice belying the gravity in his storm-grey eyes. "We'll take care of you."

James's hand finds yours, his strong fingers lacing with your own. The connection sends a current through you—subtle, reassuring. "We'll see to it," he says, his confidence a steady anchor amidst the roiling sea of uncertainty. "Whatever you need."

Emotion wells up within you, a mix of gratitude and affection that threatens to spill over. Without uttering a single word, your fingers tighten around James's hand, and your body leans instinctively into the steadiness of Remus beside you. Your head finds a resting place on his shoulder, and he responds with a comforting arm draped protectively around you. Sirius shifts closer, his presence a silent vow that no harm will come to you while they're here.

With them surrounding you, their bodies a living barrier against the chill of fear, you let your eyes drift shut. The rhythm of their breathing—steady, sure—becomes a lullaby to your frayed nerves. Their heartbeats, once distinct, now merge into a single, reassuring thrum that vibrates gently against your skin, grounding you in the reality of their care.

This is safety, you realize—a sanctuary woven from the threads of their commitment to you and each other. This is where you are cherished, not as an object to be possessed but as a person to be loved and respected. You draw in a deep breath, taking in the subtle scents that are uniquely theirs, and release it slowly, surrendering to the tranquillity that has settled around you.

[scarecrow-gender]

WHEN I TELL YOU I GASPED OUT LOUD

if you’re still taking ocs for the redesign thing, here’s Polly! (they/it) they’re a locust and an unhinged little scientist :) its full name is actually Apollyon, after the locust demon, but it likes being called Polly because it’s less scary

I LOVE IT!! LITTLE LOCUST CREECHER!!

[mpekamitzii]

YOU want to learn blender??? but hate searching for tutorials??this one's for you

Links under the cut!

I tried to find the shortest and at the same time most informational videos (because i had no patience and i wanted to learn fast lol)

you can download blender for free here

-Basic interface/modelling (low poly human character) i learned A LOT from this. i will highly suggest this tutorial too, albeit a bit lengthy but it's unedited and easy to keep up with. mentions a lot of stuff the first tutorial didnt cover

-low poly sword (this guy has loop tools enabled, it's good to get it from the start for shoulders, legs etc)

-common problem with the E function (so frustrating if youre not aware of it!!)

-uv unwrapping explained , unwrap everything in blender

-uv unwrapping 1 , uv unwrapping 2 (it's essentially the same video, but yeah. you can never have enough uv unwrapping tutorials. love how compact his videos are)

-you might need this to unwrap the neck of your model, and this for more tips, even more uv unwrap tips

-texture painting in 7 minutes

-quick rigging , symmetrize armature (tldr adding .L or _L at your bone name is very important!also be careful of the x and y axis)

-weight paint 1 , weight paint 2 (red is the part you want the bone to affect)

-camera

Obviously this is not an exhaustive list, those are videos that helped me specifically. doing your own research is equally as important, 3d modelling takes a lot of trial and error (and sanity points) and it can be especially frustrating at the beginning stage when you have no idea how everything works and the shortcuts seem like an alien language but it's so satisfying in the end trust me.

you get to make your blorbo. in 3d. how cool is that

if you do make sth based on these tutorials, please tag me !! i want to see it !! :]

[decvyed]

ULTIMATE STREETWEAR III COLLECTION FEAT. POPPIN & SATANSHUBBY

Hey there, the Ultimate Streetwear Collection III in collaboration with @poppin-sims and @squaresverse is now live. As usual, I've included an in-game version as well as a blender version of my part with 4K textures maps. I hope you enjoy this set and look forward to seeing your characters in it! 🙏🏾✨ POPPIN's PART • SATANSHUBBY's PART The Drop: Axis Tank Top 24 Swatches - Male Frame - Top Category

JR Hoodie Sweatpants 24 Swatches - Male Frame - Bottom Category Ultimate Streetwear Collection III (Blender Version) 4K Texture Maps - Male Frame - Rigged Axis Tank Top (Sample) 8 Swatches - Male Frame - Top Category New Mesh • Med-High Poly • HQ Texture • BG Compatible • Teens to Elders • All LODs • Custom Thumbnail • Disallowed for Random Base Mesh Credit: Alok Additional Texture Credit: @squaresverse Base Body Credit: @magic-bot Poses By: @sciophobis DOWNLOAD TOU:

Conversions are not allowed regardless of the gaming platform

Do not reupload

Do not claim as your own

Do not edit or recolour the mesh

Alternate Link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/104736239 Thank you for supporting DECAYED. Feel free to tag us in your posts on Instagram, we love to see you in our content.🙏🏾💫 You can also see our previous releases on our Pinterest Board 🌟

[readychilledwine]

Rhysand Week 2024 Masterlist

✨️ Happy @officialrhysandweek ✨️

I posted a while ago that I am in my Rhysand Era, and I am so excited to get started posting all of these for you all 💕

Day One - Adolescence

Trials and Tribulations -

Rhysand was a cocky teen until it came to you at least.

Rhysand x reader (fluff)

Day Two - Carynthian

 A Night to Celebrate - After shoving his biggest accomplishment in the face of all who didn't believe in him, Rhysand is just happy to celebrate with you

Rhysand x reader (Fluff)

Day Three - Loved Ones

What Once Was Lost -

Your baby shower should have been the happiest day of your and Cassian's life, but you and Rhysand just can't shake the feeling that something, or someone(s), is missing

Big Brother Rhysand x pregnant little sister reader

Day Four - Lord of Night

A Helping Hand -

High Lord, Husband, father. Rhysand's plate is just far too full, leading the Inner Circle to take over some duties.

Rhysand x platonic soul mate reader x inner circle

Day Five - Survivor

5 Steps Forward, 2 Steps Back-

50 years without your mate and husband seems almost easy now that you two are facing his recovery

Rhysand x reader

Day Six - World's Axis

Dance with Danger -

Learning the High Lord's secret has you on the run. Too bad he found you in the place you least expected

Dark Rhysand x Reader

Day Seven - Free Day

Extramarital Escape pt 2 -

Being Nyx's nanny came with many perks. You just didn't expect an affair to be one of them.

Poly!Feysand x Reader

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part three: our bodies

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other.

warnings: drinking, references to & drug abuse, angst, toxicity

a/n: cassian will make an appearance in the next part :)

series masterlist

You couldn’t tell what Nesta wanted anymore. One day, she’d act like you were her entire world, the axis of everything important in her life and the next she would treat you like you were nothing but a body to warm your bed. You knew you deserved better than this, but things had progressed to the point where you were all each other had. Two souls, no family or friends to speak of, dragged together by a smutty novel.

It was … well not quite an easy but logical decision for you to at least try to pretend your relationship had no strings attached, that it was just there for mutual pleasure. Try was the key word.

You rolled off Nesta, having counted the minutes to what you thought was an appropriate amount of time to cuddle. Sliding towards the edge of the bed, you grabbed a robe from the floor, sliding your arms through and tying the silky fabric together. She shuffled behind you, probably propping herself up on one arm to get a better look at what you were doing. Occasional demeanor of a feral cat or not, Nesta was a cuddler.

“You can leave,” you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

��Excuse me?” A sharp voice came from behind you. When you didn’t reply, footsteps rounded the bed. “What the hell did you say?”

You couldn’t look at her, instead you studied her bare stomach, before switching your gaze to the wall behind her. “You can leave,” you repeated, heart thundering, a steady pressure causing your throat to tense up. Why had you decided to do this again? It was stupid. Stupid and -

She scoffed. Your temper flared.

“You know I only brought you here to get below you,” you snapped.

Nesta laughed. Low and Cruel. You flushed. She could tear you down like no other, without a single word. One hand gripped your chin harshly, smushing your cheeks as she directed your gaze towards her. Another finger traced down the column of your throat as she lowered herself, her lips brushing your ear, “remember, I’m what you need, not just want.”

Then she left, and you realized it’s not what you really wanted. Perhaps this is just normal for couples. You just needed to give her some time to cool off and everything could return back to normal. Yes, you’d count down the seconds, per usuala snide voice cut in, til you saw her again but for now a little space couldn’t hurt.

-

Maybe Nesta was projecting, but you had that effortless air, one that either mad people want to embody it or to fuck you and she loved and hated you for it. Certainly loved fucking you, hated that other people looked at you in that way and even thought she knew you couldn’t control it, she usually ended up taking it out on you.

A day, she’d give you a day to get your head settled and then she’d go back after you and explain. For now, she located the nearest Tavern.

Nesta didn’t have a day, not when Cassian showed up at her door the next morning.

- 

Wine sounded wonderful, but so did you. You were her current vice she couldn’t quite kick and the withrdrawals were horrid. Not only was she unable to get any word to you - what would she say if she could? - but she wasn’t certain she wanted anyone to know about you. 

Of course, you weren’t quite a secret but you were hers and Nesta wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could. The way she saw it, if the damned inner circle knew about you they might try and hold you over her head and that would put her under and flare her already volatile temper even further. With you, her emotions had no control. But you. Gods, she needed you like she needed air. 

So Nesta tried. Step after step. 

-

Months blurred together. You faded and re-emerged. How could you know someone for such a short amount of time but have them mean so gods-fucking-damned much to you?

Maybe it made you pathetic but she was the oxygen in your lungs, you wanted to drown in her and let her saturate every inch of your being. But she was gone. You couldn’t. 

Nesta had disappeared several months ago, without a single note or word to you. All after you’d said some horrible things to her - of course she hadn’t been the kindest back but you still regretted every syllable and letter that had passed your lips. 

You didn’t know how to even attempt getting into contact with her, and well ... given how things ended you didn’t try and maybe that was your bad, perhaps you should’ve reached out. 

It was a beautiful autumn day and you’d be pissed at yourself later if you didn’t take advantage of it. Walking through the city, you kept your gaze up for once. Vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows filled the trees, a contrast against the sparkling blue Sidra. You walked near aimlessly, just turning at whichever street felt right. Your head was down when a familiar scent hit you. 

Steel. Fire. Winter sunrise. 

Her. 

Your shoulders drew back, fists clenching the fabric at your sides to keep you centered and calm. It was your lifeline right now. The world faded as you watched her sprint down the street. 

Stepping forward, your lips parted to call her name, tongue tapping the roof of your mouth. It shut as her eyes passed right over you, as if you didn’t exist. As if your presence were so insignificant her mind didn’t even register it. 

Perhaps to her you were. 

Instead, you turned in the direction of the liquor store. 

-

With practiced movements, you twisted the wine cork out of the glass bottle. A particularly bad wine, even by Velaris’s high standards. But that’s exactly what you needed because you didn’t plan on savoring it tonight. Tonight you craved the release it would give you, the temporary freedom from the pain of rejection. 

Not bothering with a glass, you collapsed onto your couch and tilted ruby red liquid down your throat, chasing it with a few small pills you’d picked at the same story, knowing the owners well. The pills Nesta hated. Even better. 

You acknowledged this would be more fun with friends, but your friends had all moved away years ago and left you here. Behind. 

Well, you could’ve gone with them you supposed. 

‘then you wouldn’t have met Nesta,’ a small voice echoed, thundering through your intoxicated mind. 

“And I’d be better off,” you slurred back aloud. 

Talking to yourself. You’d hit rock bottom years ago, a little talking to yourself didn’t mean shit to you. 

But would you be better off? 

For the time she was in your life she’d brought such excitement, joy, and chaos that you didn’t realize you’d been missing. A kind of chaos that couldn’t be replicated anywhere or with anyone else. You hoped she felt somewhat the same. There was no way of knowing, no sense in hoping, not when those hopes could so easily be crushed again. You were already in the throes of that, there was no sense in setting yourself up for a second dose of pain. 

-

taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughterr @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz

[wraithdance]

The TF 141 Compatibility Love Report

For: @buttdumplin

Disclaimer:

This is based on my personal opinion and interpretation of you and the character.  the user makes no claims to be a real doctor or any medical professional. Unfortunately for you I am but a figment of your imagination so you can't sue me. *scary ghost noises* whoooooo

The Doc says your TF 141 Perfect Match is…

Captain John Price!

Don't act surprised my friend, it's time to face the music!

Romance: You like em big. You like em tall. You like em loyal. You damn sure like em a lil bossy with a firm grip and a propensity to calling you some combination of sweet boy and love :)

You and John are the most compatible to me by a landslide. You're cut from the same cloth, both self assured about the things that matter to you and loyal to a fault. The difference is one of you has a raging size kink and I'm not looking at Price. The mountain also known as Captain would be the partner who stands firm at your side with a guiding hand. There would be no greater- or worthwhile -challenge for him than staying in your good graces. He's naturally a giver and would make your comfort a priority for him. He's also not afraid to do the heavy lifting and will not hesitate to bust a jaw for you as long as you're there to kiss his knuckles after.

John and you would not be without your ups and downs. You're both naturally headstrong and when you do find yourself on opposite sides of an argument it's one for the books. He'd be frustrated by your logic and sense of justice and you by his bull in the china shop technique to getting the job done. But it's okay, because like a tether the string of fate would lead you right back where you started. Reading books under a nice tree, domestic tasks made intimate by cracking teasing jokes about his bad back, drinks on the patio pointing out the stars. A once in a lifetime love affair.

Sex: Let's circle back to that size kink shall we. Price would love, that you love his height and the broadness of his shoulders. He'd also love that you love when he can't wait to bully you into that position where he can slide righttttttt there. If there's one thing that you both would be consistently on the same page about it's fucking. You two would be like teammates on the same field, quickly going over the game plan and executing with perfection. I think he'd like it if you bossed him around a lil bit in bed. he'd certainly take it until you've gotten your fill before he says 'my turn' and flips your world on it's axis. His favorite though would be the really lazy days where you're both just looking for connection, half fucking and laughing about your day and kissing each other tenderly :')

Possible points of Contention:

He doesn't understand the fun in DnD

Hides his hurt behind gruff one liners

Beard shed like a goddamn poodle

Your Poly Pairing (haha) is….

PriceRudy or (Pricegaz)- What? A weird obscure poly pairing?? Hear me out, I think you'd work for the awkward but efficient Sergeant Major of Los Vaqueros! He's a boy scout who needs a lil bit of teasing and in return you get to see him flustered and heart eyed over you. I can also see Gaz in a poly pairing with you and Price for similar reasons that we've already extensively yapped about lol. Either Gaz or Rudy's attentive and self assured nature would please you and they would flow well with Price's seasoned methodology to keep the love going. I think having the shared cultural connection with Rudy would be a safe space for you in this poly pairing (and being able to gang up on Price would be an added plus.)

[glorified-red]

Locks & Cake Pops (Damian Wayne x Reader x Jon Kent)

summary: Gotham was a scary place when the sun went down. One terrifying encounter with a stranger left you completely worn thin. Thankfully, your boys were more than prepared to come find you.

word count: 4,800~

warnings: panic attack, paranoia, vague & very short description of encountering a scary stranger (none explicit to what happened, by whom, or by any gender. Only specification is that it's a conversation and Reader is hesitant around touch), paranoia to violence or potential violence, constant paranoia of not being safe

Y'all called me a main character and I think the people writing my story took that as a CHALLENGE. The amount of plot I went through today??? I swear, fics really do write themselves, huh?

Shout out to @quillsareswords for planting the Poly Fic seed in my head with her fics until I couldn't NOT write one. And shout out to @unmotivatedwrit3r for being my Jon today and @uni-magi-nation for being my Damian because guess what lads, this fic is based on a true story!! As are most of my fics anyway, so please, enjoy the events that happened less than 12 hours ago ;P

You could pinpoint the exact moment your day had derailed. 

It wasn’t until the sun had just barely started to slip beneath the horizon. Nearly ten hours of joy all crashed in one single moment. It was one decision. A single foot placement was the difference between coming home safe and the disaster that befell you currently. 

One foot placement was all it took and your entire world crumbled from above you. 

You almost wondered if your foot pivoted slightly to the east, if you took the path to your right instead of your left, would you still be in this position? Would you be here, clinging to your next breath as if it was your last? 

But alas, you traveled west to your car. The path you took was slightly dimmer than the other in the middle of dusk. Less people, less crowds . . . less witnesses. 

That one decision landed you in an inescapable exchange of words. Whether you made it home was a decision you no longer had control of, it was now placed in the hands of a stranger—a person who thrived on the rush of feeling a life beat in the palm of their hands. 

Your feet were placed on a track alongside them, desperately trying to find a way out. But each pivot was either too late or too suspicious, all you could do was play along like some kind of puppet. Eventually the rush simmered and the paths diverged, they split off into two distinct directions, and you were free. 

You didn’t bother to care when your feet pounded against the ground one after another. They did their job, they took you to where your brain had decided you needed to go despite you not truly being a part of that conversation. You let your instincts take over, the adrenaline high of blazing through empty sidewalks and burning passed streetlamps flickering on for the first time that night. 

Your breath faded into the air with each step, a resounding huff of forced exhales as your legs ached from the pace. Before you knew it, your world tilted on its axis as your brain and body fully disconnected. Tunnel vision took over your view, the only thing in sight was the faraway gleam of steel and vinyl. 

You slammed the car door behind you, fully encasing you in a carbon cage. It felt like a cage in all senses of the word. You were suffocated inside the doors of your own safety, hating how your only semblance of security was in a man-made product that could fail within a moment—that could be broken into with just the thought of doing so. 

You heard the satisfying click of the doors locking, never realizing your fingers jumped to the button the second they could. That sound meant safety, that sound meant you would be okay. 

Electrons slipped past connections and you couldn't properly process anything aside from the steering wheel in front of you and the sharp polyester strap cutting across your chest. Your next exhale was steady and long, a pitiful attempt at self-soothing. Even with the length of the breath, the shakiness behind it was so easy to hear in the silence of the cage. 

You gripped the steering wheel with both hands, twisting your grip along the rim until you could feel the bite in your palms. You brought yourself back one cell at a time. It started with the pads of your fingers tapping against the polyurethane, then your palms rubbing against the grooves and curves of the wheel, then your hands were gripping at your arms until feeling returned to them slowly. You thawed out your own body seconds at a time. 

You breathed again. 

Then the car had started and you drove away. 

You could remember the exact moment you realized this was much deeper than mere disassociation. Your eyes were filled with red lights and your ears buzzed with the sound of passing cars. It started in your chest, a small hum of warning deep in the confines of your ribcage. 

The death rattle had started inside you and only got louder the longer your hands stayed connected to the prison bars. The hum turned into a storm of pyrocumulonimbus as your foot pressed into the gas, each breath of oxygen only fueled the fire burning at the edges of your lungs. 

You fought so hard against the impending doom of it all. You just wanted to go home. You wanted to come home and beeline straight for—not safety—comfort; you wanted to remind yourself that touch wasn’t something to be scared of; you wanted to remind yourself that you were safe—that everything was going to be okay. 

But instead your breath quickened into a terrifying speed and you had no choice but to pull over into the nearest complex with well-lit parking spaces and bustling activity at its front doors. Your car clicked off and your fingers immediately reached for the lock icon at your side. 

You pressed it once to hear the simultaneous click of four doors locking in tandem. 

Leaning against the plush seat, you tried to breathe properly. Your hands gripped at the seatbelt across your chest, both hating and adoring the pressure it forced against your body. 

You pressed it twice to remind yourself the doors were locked. 

Gripping the strap, you didn’t mind the way the edges dug into your palms as you bent it in on itself. It was tight against you, just enough to keep you present. The hands of sharply woven polyester forced you to stay conscious in reality, they didn’t dare let you slip between the cracks and fall into dissociation. 

You pressed it a third time, the same click resounding in your ears. 

Suddenly you felt too suffocated. You could feel the bottom of the wheel on your knees and the lanyard of your keys against your thigh. 

The clicks reversed as you tumbled out of the car. 

Fresh air hit your entire body and the fire raging in your chest worsened tenfold. You were exposed—you were vulnerable. You slammed yourself back into the car. A blink and you were in the backseat this time. 

The carved metal of a key dug into your fingers while you clutched it like a lifeline. Your hand reached for your phone before you could process anything else. Your other clicked the lock icon once more and the entire car fell into darkness. 

⋘⋙

Damian didn’t remember falling asleep but when a human sized heater was laying across his chest, it never took long for his exhaustion to get tired of being ignored. 

He was slightly annoyed, arguably moreso, when the heater in question jerked upright. Damian’s eyes snapped open. “Watch it,” he groaned, sleep still affecting the timbre in his voice. Hands dug uncomfortably into his stomach and he pushed them away. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the kryptonian apologized from above him. “I just . . .” he trailed off. 

That got his attention. 

His eyes focused on the alert expression on his lover’s face. Jon shifted upright completely, still straddling Damian’s thighs. His eyes were distant, looking off into the window at the other side of the room. 

“What’s wrong?” Damian asked, finding himself slightly propped up onto his elbows. 

“Y/n,” Jon replied, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. The way he said your voice was just as distant as his gaze, almost like his voice was nothing but an exhale. He blinked, looking down and glaring so hard at Damian’s upper body that Damian almost took offense. 

“Their heartbeat,” he said, confusion lacing his voice as he tried to focus on the thum of your beat, “it’s . . . different.” 

“Different,” Damian echoed. He would’ve been annoyed at the vague answer if he wasn’t aware both him and Jon were currently barely awake and therefore, barely functioning (Damian more so than Jon, of course). “What do you mean different?” 

Kryptonian powers were always so finicky. He always thought so, but meeting Jon? This man was evidence in itself that powers were annoying at best. Damian watched as Jon developed each new power slowly at the most inconvenient times, mind you. And now, years after being the Man Of Steel, Jon’s powers still went berserk. 

Damian couldn’t even count on his fingers how many sensory overloads he’s guided Jon through—and he’d do it all over again if he had to. 

Jon shook his head. “It’s just different.” He shrugged. 

“You woke me up because it’s just different?” Damian deadpanned. 

Jon glared down at him. “This isn’t exactly an exact science, you know.” 

Damian sighed and slid back down until his upper back hit the mattress once more. “Is it going faster? Skipping a beat?” he prompted, trying his best to shake the grogginess from his body without letting paranoia fester in its place. 

Heartbeats always worried Damian. He ended up assuming the worst. But with a Kryptonian tracing them so often, he realized that different didn’t necessarily mean bad. You could have raised your hand in class, forgot your keys, or missed a step down the stairs and your heart lurched. That was enough to perk Jon’s ears. You could have been stressed so your heart rate was elevated. Maybe even tired which made it drag. 

Despite his own fears, Damian kept reminding himself that there's more of a chance that you were fine than not, especially when he was currently talking to a sleep deprived kryptonian who announced heartbeat changes all the time. The idea of getting away with any kind of anxiety while around that golden retriever was stupid and incredibly naive—Damian gave up after a year of Jon’s super-hearing kicking in. 

“You’re anxious.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You should probably—” 

“I said shut up.” 

Jon spoke up: “It definitely jumped and it’s been slightly faster than normal ever since.” His head tilted slightly to the side to listen better—Damian couldn't help but picture a tiny puppy doing the same and its ear flopping over. “It’s getting steadily faster. I think . . . I think they’re driving?” 

Damian’s eyes furrowed. He reached for his phone as Jon continued. “Definitely driving,” he settled on. “I can hear their car.” 

“Maybe they almost got into an accident,” Damian mumbled in thought, setting a personal reminder in his brain to berate you for speeding later. His phone clicked on and his eyes saw his blurry home screen. He blinked the image into focus. When his eyes could properly trace over the smiles on you and Jon’s faces, he looked at the time. 

It was earlier than he thought. 

Jon’s hands fiddled with the hem of Damian’s sleep shirt, the compression material stretching slightly to accommodate the movement. “Maybe,” Jon gnawed at his bottom lip. “I didn’t hear anything like that though, just normal traffic.” 

Damian hummed. “They were at the library today. I didn’t expect them to head home so soon.” His fingers opened your contact. “Did they text you that they were heading home?” 

 Jon leaned across the bed to reach for his phone on the nightstand. Damian resisted a snark at how uncomfortable the shift was with the unnecessary knee to the side. 

Jon fiddled with his phone for a moment. “Nope, nothing.” 

Damian opened his mouth to supply another sentence of rationale when two things happened simultaneously: In an instant, Jon’s phone slipped from his hands and ricocheted right off of his stomach. (“Ow!”) Then Damian’s ringtone sounded throughout the entire bedroom, bouncing off the walls and reverberating into their tired brains. 

The fear written on Jon’s face was enough for Damian to pick up on the first ring. 

“Y/n?” he asked. Jon’s fingers clutched at his shirt. 

“Hey,” you responded. There was a crackle over the line but Damian couldn’t tell if it was your voice or the shitty internet. 

“Are you okay?” Damian was blunt, cutting straight through any attempt at small talk. How could he not when Jon was currently mouthing “panic attack” at him and poking his ribcage. 

You hesitated enough for Damian to shoo Jon off of him. Both boys tumbled out of the massive bed in varying degrees of grace. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re dodging the question,” Damian slid on a pair of pants and made his way down the stairs. “What’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing because I have a human sized Holter monitor that would beg to disagree.”

Jon tumbled behind, no doubt using some kind of kryptonian flare to gather all the necessary items to drive to you. 

“Can you both meet me here, I—” you cut off, if Damian strained, he could hear your rampant breathing. “I need you.” You choked, “No—No capes.” 

Damian breathed in slowly and exhaled through his mouth. The keys and wallets were already floating into his pockets as he opened the front door. 

No capes. 

It was a valid request. It was a request both Jon and Damian had come to appreciate overtime. No need for heroics, no need for perfection, no need for theatrics—you just needed your partners, as they were. 

That was a level of normalcy that was so rare in this lifestyle. As much as it would be miles quicker with Jon’s flight or even his grapple gun, he respected the thought process behind the decision. You just wanted your boys, that was all. 

Car doors slammed shut and Damian was already behind the wheel making his way to you. “We’re on our way.” He felt a poke to his bicep. Jon motioned towards the phone, opening and closing his hand in request. “I’m going to pass the phone to Jon. He’s going to stay on the line until we reach you, okay?” 

Damian barely waited for your small “ok” before handing the phone off. He didn’t bother to fill Jon in on the conversation, it was obvious he was already listening intently. 

“Hey, sunshine.” Jon pointed directions out and Damian followed. No need for maps when you have a super-hearing alien who knows exactly where you are just by the sounds of traffic and the volume of your heartbeat. “We’re coming as fast as we can. Just give us ten minutes and we’ll be there with you.” 

Damian focused on driving, the one thing he could do at this moment. He was tactical, he was useful. Jon was the comforting one; Jon was the one who could navigate emotionally tense situations with ease. So he gripped the steering wheel tighter and made sure he got to you safely. 

Strengths. All three of you had them just as you all had weaknesses. But the beauty of your triad came from how perfectly your strengths filled each others’ weaknesses. You lifted each other up, and when you couldn’t, it was easy to lean on one another. 

So Jon handled the comfort, Damian handled the logistics. 

Words of affirmations flew out of Jon’s mouth in a way that Damian used to envy. Now, he found it endearing. He has his own strengths and that’s okay. 

“Just ten minutes, baby. Ten minutes and everything will be okay, I promise.” 

Red lights glared down at Damian. 

“Breath with me. In and out, just like that. Keep doing that.” 

Stop signs seemed taller than usual, more demeaning. 

“You’re gonna be alright. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now but you’ll be okay soon, you just gotta hang in there for us.” 

Brakes screeched against the pavement. 

“I'm so proud of you, you’re so brave right now. No, don’t be like that. You’re so strong, you’ll get through this, I swear.” 

His fingers tapped against the gear shift impatiently. 

“Are the doors locked? Yea? That’s good. You did good—so good.” 

He heard you sob into the receiver and his heart twisted painfully. 

“You’re safe. No one can get to you right now without your consent. Just keep telling yourself that: no one can get in, no one can reach you, you’re safe.” 

His foot finally hit the gas. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart. You're okay. You did everything right—yes you did. Yes, Y/n. You got to safety, you pulled over, you locked the doors, and you called us. You did everything right.” 

He made a right and then a left. 

“Five more minutes, bub. Just five more minutes. Keep breathing. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be right there with you.” 

He was trapped behind a slow Jeep—he switched lanes. 

“Yea? Grab the jacket and hold it tight. I’d rather you hold that. Just a few more minutes and that jacket will be replaced with us, alright?” 

Yellow lights always annoyed him the most. 

“We’re coming, I promise. We’re coming.” 

He swerved into the complex, not caring if he cut someone off in the process. 

“We’re pulling in right beside you. That car is us so don’t be scared. It’s just us, baby.” 

Damian clicked off the car and tumbled out with Jon quick to follow suit. He always forgot how much Jon used pet names as he rambled through words of reassurance. He was sure it was some kind of nervous tick Jon had, a way for him to soothe both himself and the other person. It could also just be a habit of his mouth speaking far faster than his brain, but the nicknames flowed out of him so fast either way.

“You gotta let us in, love. We can’t help from out here.” Jon’s hand gently rested on the glass window to the backseat. Damian motioned towards the building in front of the car, Jon nodded in response, already knowing his thought process far before Damian’s feet started moving backwards. 

Focus on his strengths. Focus on what he can do. Focus on that. 

The car doors unlocked and the boys split up. 

⋘⋙

You were huddled in the backseat for what felt like hours and milliseconds all at once. Every time your breaths evened, your brain fizzled out with it until you couldn’t feel anything aside from the car key scraping against your palm and the plastic door digging into your spine. 

Legs pulled into your chest, phone to your ear, and arms wrapped around a hoodie long since stolen for your backseat, you waited. You tried to bury your nose in the scent of pine and peppermint, a tanglement of your home—your boys—but it never fully sunk into your comprehension. 

Your empty hand grasped at the plush cotton in a sour attempt at bringing yourself back up. Unfortunately, the second you were brought back to awareness, your breathing spiked. Every distant voice, every shifting shadow, even the cars passing by in the nearby road—it all screamed danger into your head until you struggled to breathe. 

Even in this locked prison, you still felt too exposed. You were miles from home and miles from safety, how could you not? 

The doors are locked. 

You’re safe. 

No one can come in without your permission. 

They’re coming. 

When a car pulled beside yours, a familiar tint of windows and gleam of dark steel, you fought all of your instincts to run, to hide, to scream. 

The doors are locked. 

You’re safe. 

No one can come in without your permission. 

They’re here. 

It took every ounce of your willpower to allow your finger to press the open lock icon after pressing the locked one over and over again for what felt like an eternity.  

“Y/n,” Jon sighed out in relief. The call ended and what once was a distant voice was now a full fledged being.

“Please close the door,” you sobbed out, feeling nothing but claws of terror scratch up your chest the longer the door stayed open. Jon instantly complied, shutting the door as gently as he could without slamming it. 

The doors instantly locked again. 

“Can I touch you?” he started with. He didn’t bother asking if you were okay or asking what you needed, it would be pointless. You weren’t okay and asking what you needed when you were so clearly in peril would just put unnecessary weight onto your shoulders when he should be taking it off. 

Your hands fisted into the fabric, fingers swimming amongst the mountain of cotton. “I-I,” you choked on an inhale, “I don’t know.” 

And how could you? Sometimes touch was a blessing, a craving nothing else could satiate. Sometimes touch was the only way to bring you back all the way: it was grounded as was it weighted, it was nice. 

But sometimes touch was terrifying, a pressure of what if tangled in previous experiences. Sometimes touch was the only thing that terrified you the most: after such a night, how could you possibly feel safe with an ounce of contact? 

“Okay,” Jon said quickly, not wanting to make you feel worse about your own indecision. “What if we try? I’ll pull away the second you tell me to, pinky swear.” 

He even raised his pinky to solidify the statement. If you weren’t miles deep into a panic attack and hundreds of tears worn, you probably would have laughed. Instead, you nodded, a jerky movement that shifted the fabric around your face. 

“I’m gonna place my hand on top of your knee, real slow. You tell me if you don’t want it there anymore.” He looked into your eyes with his vibrant blue bells. His face was so sure, so confident, but the edges of his face were hardened with worry. He really couldn’t hide his emotions around you.

You nodded once more. You saw your own quickened breaths more than you felt them, the shadows off to your right reflecting the rise and fall of your chest. 

Jon’s hand was raised slightly above your knee and he hesitated just enough for you to track his movements. Then it was nothing but a light touch of fingertips, then fingers, then a palm, and then an entire hand. 

Despite his slow, deliberate movements, you still flinched. It was a whole-body jerk that started with pulling your legs closer to you and ended with your shoulders hitching upwards. Jon bit the inside of his cheek at the reaction, ignoring the way it dug into his heart a little too deep for his own sanity.

He kept his hand there even when your body’s instinctual reaction screamed for him to pull back. Jon waited for your words, but more importantly, he waited for you to settle into the touch or comprehend that you didn’t want it anymore—whichever ended up happening. 

Luckily, it was the former. Your shoulders pressed back into the door behind you and your head leaned against the car seat. Your feet unhooked at the ankles and relaxed. 

���Do you want more touch or is this enough for now?” 

You felt the heat radiate from his palm, it fought against the storm of fire boiling in every fiber of your being. It also fought against the sheet of ice that threatened to separate you from the rest of the world. It was enough. 

“ ‘s good for now,” you breathed in shakily. Trying to match the rise and fall of the chest in front of you. 

Jon looked off to the side and squinted into the darkness. “Damian’s on his way back.” His thumb absent-mindedly rubbed against your knee slowly and in a small movement. It was so small you barely would’ve realized it if your knee wasn’t at eye level. “You’ll have to let him in soon.” 

Your eyes flickered over to just beyond your car and into the entrance to the building—the cafe—where Damian had started walking out of. You had a moment or two to emotionally prepare yourself to unlock those doors. 

You struggled on your next breath and Jon heard it. He returned his gaze to you. “Breathe, baby. It’s just Dami. You can lock the doors immediately afterwards.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, hating the way your breathing sped up slightly as you clicked the open lock. Gears shifted and the reversal of the click was impossibly loud against your muddled brain. 

The door in front of you swung open and Jon pulled Damian inside before closing the door as soon as possible. You found your thumb pressing the lock button the second you heard the car door close. You never once felt the hand on your knee leave and you silently thanked Jon’s perceptiveness. 

Opening your eyes, you were met with Damian’s emerald eyes looking at you with as much concern as those eyes could ever truly show. Jon had somehow found his way squished in between the seats and middle console, half debating if he should just sit on the floor or on the console. Damian sat across from you with his hands full of drinks and food. 

He offered you the blend of sugar and ice to which you took without much hesitation. Your head was pounding. You could hear your heartbeat in your ear and you could feel it in your temples. It was unbearably hot with pain. 

“I got your usual,” Damian said, “just the way you like it.” 

You sniffled, already feeling the fire inside swirl into dissipation. “No inclusions?” you asked in a small voice. 

“No inclusions,” he reassured you. 

“The base?” 

“Lemonade, not water.” 

You opened your mouth to ask another question but Damian was quick to read your mind. He lifted up a straw still wrapped in its plastic casing. “Yes, I got you a straw.” 

For the first time that night, you smiled. It was small, twitchy, and faded just as quick as it came, but it was still better than the choked off sobs from earlier over the phone. 

Damian opened the top of the straw for you and you held out your drink for him to place it inside. Your hands were so shaky it was difficult to even hold the large drink (because of course he got you the biggest size), let alone have enough dexterity to open a straw. 

“I also bought cake pops,” he lifted up the three brown bags of parchment that held your sugary treat. He knew you so well you swore he was a mind reader. Your hands were shaking from panic but also from how low your energy levels were from using every ounce of it to breathe. 

Damian lifted the first bag after peering inside. “Birthday cake.”

You snatched the bag. 

“Chocolate.” 

Jon did the same for his. 

“And mine.” Damian set his bag in his lap and handed Jon his drink full of sugar. 

Jon propped open the cup holders attached to the center console and set his drink inside, Damian was quick to set his water beside it. 

You clutched your drink with both hands, enjoying the feeling of the cold condensation against your aching fingers. “Thank you.”

Damian hummed in response. It didn’t take long for his hand to find its way onto your other knee and this time, you didn’t end up flinching. You swore the presence of your two lovers was more than enough to calm any attack that found its way up to you. Tonight was proof of that. 

“Your breathing is still too fast for my liking,” Damian spoke up. “Do you want to go through some breathing exercises?” 

Both of the boys looked at you expectantly. You shrunk back slightly at the pressure before you shook your head. “Can . . .” you breathed in to reassure yourself—your request was okay, you’re voicing your needs, you’re valid—“Can you guys just distract me?” 

They shared a look between each other and Jon ended up speaking up first: “Go ahead, Dami. Distract them.” 

“Why do I have to?” Damian demanded, “You’re obviously better at running your mouth than I am.”

“Because I said so?” 

“Because you said so,” Damian mocked, “Really? Do you honestly believe that holds any true merit in this household?” 

Jon scoffed. “It does when you say it so why doesn’t it when I say it?”

“Because I’m better than you, obviously.” 

“Am not.” 

“Am too.” 

“Boys,” you giggled through the word. Your grip on your drink was loose and your legs uncurled slowly until they pressed into Damian’s shin. “While this is adorable, I just want to listen to you two talk, not bicker.” 

One of them huffed from their nose and you genuinely couldn’t tell who—you’re half convinced they both did. 

“Fine.” Damian’s free hand fell around the top of your shoe, his pinky brushing against your ankle. “Go ahead, genius. Tell our beloved what you did to the kitchen while making dinner tonight.” 

Jon’s eyes widened slowly. “We agreed not to tell them,” he whisper-shouted. 

Damian shrugged. 

You turned to Jon with a fire behind your eyes. 

“What did you do to my freshly cleaned kitchen?”

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

[yanxidarlings]

MASTERPOST

HETALIA

WRITINGS

newer works for hetalia

GENERAL HEADCANONS

latin america, mongolia

older works for hetalia

GENERAL HEADCANONS

america, australia, prussia, romano, turkey, finland, ukraine, england, nordics

INDIVIDUAL SCENARIOS

shy with america

superhero-esque with america

platonic yandere with america

daydreams with america

uncivilised with england

victorian poc with england

childhood friend with hong kong

GROUP SCENARIOS

heartbroken with the axis

disappointed with the axis

anxious with the axis

unhappily married with the allies

aroace with the allies

lesbian with the allies

refusing to eat with the allies

insecure with the nordics

sickly with the italy brothers

pugnacious with the german brothers

psychopath with eng-ita-ame

androphobia with eng-spa-can

otome with ger-eng-ame

bosses relative with ger-eng-ame

sociable with ger-eng-rus

sharing with ger-eng-pru

lovestruck with ger-swe-spa

reciprocated yandere with rus-ame

rejected proposal with rus-ger

VERSUS SERIES

austria vs switzerland

ukraine vs belarus

hungary vs romania

england vs romania

russia vs germany

america vs russia

america vs germany (p2, p3)

norway vs iceland

hong kong vs south korea

greece vs turkey vs egypt

YANDERE ALPHABET

D,M,Z with america

F,H,I with america

C,D,H with prussia

D,A,Y with australia

J,Q,U with the baltics

D,W,Z with ame-can-fra

X,S with eng-ger-rus

F,L,M with eng-pru

B,J,T with rus-ame

E,K,R with ice-jap

A,P,Y with hk-tai-mac

YANDERE DISCUSSION

unrequited yandere

warmonger

fake broken

UPCOMING

the draft has been started

romano and prussia sharing a darling

male belarus, ukraine and russia sharing a darling

latin america sharing a darling

general yandere asia

list of old inbox requests i might get to oneday

here

HARRY POTTER

WRITINGS

POLY SLYTHERIN SERIES

sharing, individual headcanons, bully! slytherins, obscurial! reader

POLY HEADCANONS

mattheo & theodore, mattheo & blaise, cormac & zacharias, ravenclaw boys

GENERAL HEADCANONS

zacharias smith, anthony goldstein, cormac mclaggen

UPCOMING

the draft has been started

boggart reactions of slytherin, ravenclaw and hufflepuff boys

list of inbox requests ill get to oneday

here

THE WALKING DEAD

WRITINGS

GENERAL HEADCANONS

chris manawa

POLY SCENARIOS

daryl and merle, bromigos

LIST OF CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR

RULES FOR REQUESTS

[merbear25]

Requests are CLOSED!

Just FYI: due to my work schedule and load, I mostly have time to write during the weekend. Please be patient with me 💜💜

Fandoms I write and have works for: One Piece, Trigun (all media), Bleach, and Hetalia.

For One Piece I mostly write for: Straw hats, Cross Guild, Law, Corazon, Ace, Kid, Caesar Clown, and Doflamingo, but I'm open to writing for others! Ask if you're interested in others. (Caught up with the anime)

For Trigun I've mostly written for Vash but am open to writing for others! Ask if you're interested in others. (finished the manga and original anime, caught up with Stampede)

For Bleach I'm open to writing for any characters and have written works for some arrancars, shinigami, and quincy! (finished the manga and caught up with the anime)

For Hetalia I mostly write for the Allies, the Axis, and the Nordic 5, but I can also write for Spain, Prussia, Romano, Austria, Hungary, Ukraine, and Belarus. Interested in another character? Just ask!

Other

For JJK I've only written two works for Choso but am open to writing for others.

For Shaman King I've only written two works but am open to writing more.

What I will and won't write:

Tell me if you'd like a drabble, headcanons, or a fic. If you don't specify, then I'll choose whichever I have a better idea for.

You can request up to 3 characters! If you have multiple ideas, send them seperately.

I write both SFW and NSFW content. These will be marked in the CW part at the top of each work, along with the respective contents.

All works marked as NSFW x reader will have an +18 reader.

Virtually all kinks are fine with me (excluding age play and pedophilia, scat and piss play) But if you're not sure I'll write it, it's always better to ask first!

I will not write OCs or crossovers.

I will not write canon characters with non canon anatomy or identities.

I can write some character x character, but I much prefer x reader. It's just more fun for me, personally.

I'm new to writing for poly relationships but am not opposed to writing more.

I will write for gn!reader, fem!reader and m!reader. If your request does not specify the reader, I will default to gn!

Detailed requests are okay, but it's highly possible I might make it a bit more general. For example, if you specify the reader having a specific scar or injury, I will make it general for all types of scars or injuries. If you request is too detailed (leaning on hyper specific) I will NOT answer this.

Please remember that I have the right to refuse a request for whatever reason.

Anon asked...

do you have any other rules for requests?

how long does it take you?

does the Hetalia form count as a request?

Again, if you're not sure whether or not I'll write something, please just ask! :) It's always better to double check first.