#to get them in these situations even if they don’t have the credit

[intobarbarians]

i was looking online at houses and saw in this city a bunch of houses being sold for under 60,000.

many of the houses were in rough shape or only had one or two exterior photos posted, so i started reading the descriptions and it turns out some landlord is offloading their portfolio.

the descriptions listed whether or not the houses were vacant or had tenants and what those tenants pay in rent. almost all of the houses with tenants were listed as being month to month or in the process of eviction.

what’s worse is that you can see the estimated mortgage payment against the rent the tenants pay—the rent is at least three times higher than the mortgage cost.

anyway, tell me being a landlord is evil without telling me being a landlord is evil

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[reidrum]

under the mistletoe

note: happy first day of reidrumas! a nice little munch!spencer to keep you warm <3

summary: in which penelope uses a plant to get her friends together, or the time you find yourself under the mistletoe with spencer

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, oral (f receiving), heavy kissing, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.8k

12 days of reidrumas

The annual BAU Christmas Party became an accord Penelope headed all on her own, and was a job she took very seriously. The amount of times the team had been called away on a case near or on a major holiday is too sad a number to count, so whenever there was certainty that there would be no case or bureau event, Penelope went all in.

That is, on David Rossi’s credit card, of course.

Light up sleighs and reindeers adorned the front lawn of Rossi’s mansion, of which was decorated with red ribbons and twinkle lights galore. The silhouette of the biggest Christmas tree you think you’d ever seen was illuminated in the window as you approached the front, rubbing clammy hands down the sides of your dress.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, just that you are. While it had been some time since you had joined the team and you have definitely had some fun nights out with them, the nerves never get easier to deal with when you know a certain genius will be in your presence.

It seemed everyone knew of your crush on Spencer except the man himself. The way your face heats up when you’re near him, the words tripping over each other as you try to speak, somehow are not dead giveaways to him. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

A call of your name from the bottom of the stairs grabs your attention, and you see none other than Spencer coming up the stairs to meet you. He straightens out his sweater and looks at all of you, “You look nice.”

Suddenly you forget what words are, “Um…I.. thanks! I just got this, and I thought the antlers would be cute too.” you gesture to the light up headband. 

“They’re really cute.” he smiles and gestures you to walk in, and you’re both ambushed by Penelope immediately.

“You’re here! Oh, you look so cute with your little reindeer antlers,” she gushes, “And Spencer! Looking so dapper!” You both walk down the hallway with her, seemingly leading you to the kitchen when she abruptly stops halfway.

“You’re too cheery. What did you do?” you squint.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your eyebrows raise, “What did you do?”

“Why would we hate you?” Spencer says at the same time.

Penelope pauses, and with a hint of mischief in her voice, “Look up.”

Your eyes trail upwards to the arch of the door you’re both stood in, and there hanging with its leaves and red and white berries tied in ribbon, is of course, mistletoe.

“Penny.” you mumble under your breath. If she heard you she paid no mind, only beaming at you both with her Cheshire cat grin. You look over at poor Spencer, who’s sheepish smile and red cheeks are breaking through his stoic demeanor. 

“Did you know mistletoe in nature is actually poisonous? It’s a parasitic plant that has to grow on other trees in order to survive. But it’s holiday tradition comes from Norse mythology when the son of Odin is killed and his mother is so upset her tears turn into the berries on the plant, as a symbol of her love for him.” Spencer rambles out of nervousness.

“That sounds nice Spence,” Penelope grabs both of your hands and positions you in front of each other in the doorway, “Okay great, I’m sure you know the rules of mistletoe. Now kiss.”

“Penelope.” you lightly chide. Her persistence is a match for no one, there’s no way of getting out.

“You have to, that’s the rule! If you don’t, Christmas will be ruined!” she sighs dramatically.

You blink at her a few times hoping she understands that she’s out of her mind and that it’s a little cruel to put you and Spencer in this situation. This is probably his worst nightmare. He has that thing with germs you remember and you both are merely friends so there’s no way he’d see you like that, yet alone want to kiss you because a plant said you had to.

Spencer clears his throat in front of you, and says with a soft voice, “Well, if it’s going to ruin Christmas…”

Huh. Maybe not as cruel as you think.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, “You’re okay with this?”

He nods sheepishly, “I—I mean I love holidays, and even though I’d never done this part of Christmas, I’d hate to break tradition….”

You look at him with disbelief, but Penelope’s smile could not be wider and she squeals, “Amazing! Okay, I’m ready.”

You both look at her knowingly, and she immediately puts her hands up. “Alright, fine! I can take a hint. But, I want details later, both of you.” she busies herself off in the kitchen.

Spencer turns his body to face you, hands tentatively reaching out to ghost the curve of your hips. His eyes look to you for permission, and with a slight nod he takes purchase, bringing you closer while resting his hands on your sides. You gingerly place your flat palms on his shoulders, and it’s then you realize just how close you both are. His breath fans softly against your face, and even in heels you find yourself rising a bit further to meet his lips.

Just mere milliseconds before your lips meet he whispers with the softest pitch you’ve ever heard, “You sure this is okay?”

You think you give him a nod and a word of approval, but it’s lost as soon as you press your lips onto his with no hesitancy. His hands pull you closer to him, leaning deeper into the kiss. The endorphins run loose before  being corralled immediately as the kiss ends as quickly as it began.

He pulls back and he stares at your puffy lips, lips that are puffy because of him and it’s enough to drive him insane. He needs to find a way to have you like that again, to feel your lips against his again fearless of a watchful eye, to show you that he really doesn’t give a damn for tradition, but would do rituals and ceremonies on end if it meant getting to kiss you like that again.

You’re about to say something when your name is called from the living room, the other girls now noticing your arrival and waving you over to grab a drink. You look between them and Spencer, “I should go,” you say reluctantly, “Find me later?”.

He smiles softly, “I’ll find you later.”

You hesitate before moving, wondering if it’s even a good idea. But you realize you’re already this far deep, so what difference would it make? Your eyes dart between the girls and Spencer once more making sure they’re not looking, and rise to your toes again to kiss his cheek, “See you later, Spence.”

A blush rises to his cheek as he touches the spot with his fingers, watching you walk into the living room. You might be the death of him, he thinks.

—

The party’s gone on, games of white elephant are played and countless wine bottles are scattered around the place. He finds himself in an aimless conversation with Matt and Luke, he thinks they’re talking about some sport, but all Spencer can think about is you and your damn lips.

You’re addictive, he’s come to find. He’s had a taste of the forbidden fruit and now fully empathizes with Eve, thinking if something was as nectarious as you, he’d also have to go to great lengths to get it again.

He excuses himself from the conversation, not caring if they said anything, and goes off to find you. You’re sat on the loveseat with JJ that’s entirely too small for the two of you, but you certainly look comfy wedged into the seat. He circles around the back, resting a hand on your shoulder to let you know of his presence and bending down to whisper in your ear, “Is this a good time to find you?”

You startle a little at the voice, calming once you recognize it to be Spencer. You’re surprised he actually came and found you like he said he would, and by the look of his face it seemed like a determined mission.

“I’d say it is,” you smile up at him, his body looming over you behind the couch. He holds a hand out for you, “I’ll be back, J.” you tell her as you stand up. She looks between you and Spencer and a smug look rises to her face.

“Okay…be safe.” she winks. You groan.

Spencer leads you away from the bustle of the living room and further into the depths of Rossi’s mansion. You both walk side by side, talking aimlessly about anything and everything, grateful to have moments just walking with each other. You push open on a fancy door, revealing a vastly large room but with the same crown modeling as the rest of the place. A three piece couch set rests in the middle, and bookshelves filled with antiques line the walls.

You’re intrigued by the telescope pointed out the window, bending down to look through it. Spencer looks up from the book he’s holding on the other side of the room and watches you. You’re ethereal, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your figure making you look like an angel from above. You gaze through the lens to look at the stars, and he can’t help but wonder how lucky he is to have you in front of him and not in the sky with the rest of them.

“Can I confess something?”

You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening, “Um, sure.”

“Nothing scary, I promise,” he reassures.

“That’s not concerning.”

He takes a deep breath, “I had an ulterior motive, when I came to find you.”

Your brows furrow nervously, “What do you mean?”

“No no, I meant it, it’s nothing bad,” he confesses, “I just… really wanted to kiss you again.”

Oh. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?” he chuckles.

You stammer, “W—Well, I just wasn’t sure…”

He nods and slowly walks to you, “Would that be okay?”

You look up at him and see that he’s so close again. The waft of his cologne invades your senses. His hair is long again, you told him once he looked good with long hair and he hasn’t so much as looked at some scissors since then. The ends of his curls tickle your forehead when his head dips, lips mere nanometers away.

“Yeah.” you barely muster an audible whisper.

The corners of his lips twitch, “Yeah?” he says in the same pitch, leaning even closer.

“Please.”

His lips press to yours again for the second time this night, and he kisses you with a fervor you couldn’t comprehend. He brings one hand up to cradle the back of your head, padding the impact as he uses the other to back you against the wall. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the roots that makes him fold even more into you.

Kisses travel down the side of your neck to the nape, and he spends time littering the area with lovebites. The soft gasps that leave your mouth only spur him on, but it’s not nearly enough for him.

“Sweetheart,” he pants between kisses, “Need to—fuck—need to taste you, please. Can I?

Your blown out eyes meet his, and it wasn’t even an option to say no when he was begging you so desperately, “Yeah, yes, please.”

His hand snakes through the slit on your dress, tracing the edges of your panties and grinning when he hears your breath hitch. He toys with the edge some more before dipping a finger below the band, never touching you where you really need him but getting awfully close.

“Spence..” you whine.

He groans, “Fuck, you sound so pretty saying my name and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He puts you out of your misery when he finally drags the pad of his index to the bundle of nerves at your center, tracing light circles that draw the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

You grip his forearms for more stability, feeling your legs turn to jelly. Spencer sees your struggle and wraps an arm around your waist, “I got you, pretty girl it’s okay.” A few more minutes of teasing you and marking you relentlessly and he decides you’re okay enough for him to stand on your own, so he can sink to his knees in front of you.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he crouches down, making sure you’re okay every step of the way. His finger is still tracing a line from your clit to your entrance, the wet line seeping through your panties. He bunches up your dress and silently gestures to you to hold it, and steadies his hands on either side of your hips. He presses chaste kisses up your thighs, your breath getting heavier with each one closer to your center. The delirium hits an all time high when he presses a firm kiss to your core.

Skilled fingers hook your panties to the side, revealing you in all your glistening glory, “Look at you,” he marvels hoarsely, “that all for me?”

You nod fast, “Yes, yes Spence please.” you whine out, you’d sound like you were in pain if it were anyone else.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, don’t do that. I’m gonna take care of you, promise.” he coos, calming your pleas, “Come on, leg on my shoulder.”

The new angle opens you up beautifully for him and he can’t help himself when he leans in and swipes a tentative tongue through your folds, satisfied when he hears the sound of a guttural moan leave you.

You immediately slam your hand over mouth as he taunts, “Careful sweetheart, can’t be too loud or someone’s gonna walk in.”

You try to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum as he continues eating you out like a man depraved, like all he was meant for on this earth was to be between your legs. He prods a finger around your entrance and slowly slips it in, you whimper and clamp your fingers into his hair tugging tightly.

Spencer groans into you at the feeling, and adds another finger swiftly moving them in and out. You’re getting close, he can feel it from the way you clench around his fingers, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you’d feel clenching around him.

“Ah—I’m….I’m close.” you whimper.

He speeds up ever so slightly, “Yeah? Okay angel, you can let go, it’s okay.”

Soon your climax washes over you, with you gripping his hair tightly and his fingers never faltering as he rides you through it. He slows down his pace as you come down before gently taking them out and giving you one last lick through your folds before standing up.

You yelp but it’s quickly muffled by him kissing you again. He feels you smile into the kiss and matches you before you both start giggling and pull away.

He can hear the smile in your voice when you rest your forehead on his shoulder, “That was…”

An arm wraps around you again to hold stable, “Good, I hope?”

You press a soft kiss at the base of his neck, “Really good. I guess we have to thank Penny now.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

“I may have been the one to tell her to put some mistletoe up.” He confesses sheepishly.

“You told her? S—So you could…like…” you ramble.

“So I would have a chance to kiss you, yes.”

You get real shy in front of him as if he wasn’t on his knees for you five minutes ago, “That’s really sweet…you could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to! But I thought you might not feel the same way because I notice how you are around me and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but then Penelope told me you felt the same and I just figured one of us had to pull the bandaid off.”

You smile shyly, “I get nervous around you, because I really really like you.” you quietly admit.

He pulls you close into his chest, kissing your forehead softly, “Well that’s good then, because I really really like you too.”

Penelope is obviously over the moon when she finds out, giddy as can be knowing her two best friends are now together. What she doesn’t tell you, is how she sends the mistletoe to a preservation company to be pressed and framed. She’s just preparing to have the best gift ever to bring to your wedding.

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[endursent]

- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (3)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , gn!reader 】

【 characters; aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday 】

【 premise; " You have been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned you into a cat, your partner has no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet he also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; happens independently of other chapters of course 】

【 word count; 4.308 | read on ao3 | hsr their ver | gi their ver | gi reader ver 】

Aventurine;

He’s not in any hurry to get you back to normal, he likes to have you on his lap as he meets with some poor subordinates—perhaps it makes him feel like an intimidating figure from a movie—stroking your back and leaning back against the expensive desk chair he spent a few weeks waiting on the shipment for just last month. 

  You don’t complain, he pets you and gives you treats for being still and quiet—but as soon as whoever he was meeting with leaves, he scoops you up in his arms and smiles widely, lifting you up by holding under your front legs so that you dangle like a sausage. “Such a good kitty,” he coos and kisses your furry belly with exaggerated sounds. Earning himself some whacking and hissing for the annoying display and uncomfortable position. 

  Aventurine buys luxury cat food for you, only the best for his favourite (also only) little furball… only to scratch his head over the fact you won’t eat any of it. He knows your noggin is all right, but he didn’t expect you to reject the stinky—though nutritious—food. He gave up after a few tries and gave you some chicken, cheese and egg… a strange combo, but you’re hungry.

  An instinctual need comes over you to scratch, to dig your claws into something and stretch them—preferably into something—but every single damned furniture in his apartment costs more credits than you accumulate in three months. He’s completely stumped by your insistent meowing and complaining of restless boredom, being left home alone to do NOTHING while he works for a majority of the day. 

  Adorable as it is, Aventurine just does not understand what you want, he cleaned the litter box three times, he gave you some nice cheese—he even gave you a tablet to type what you needed on, but your paws are clumsy and it came out rather incomprehensibly. Eventually, you couldn’t fight it anymore and left marks on one of the sleek dining table chairs. He didn’t seem too upset and after looking up your behavioural clues (now with the scratching evidence) he found out you simply felt restless and needed to stretch and flex your claws. Now you have a scratching post you’ll have to resell when this is over (hopefully you will go back to normal soon…)

  Only two days in, and Aventurine has about three hundred pictures of you… in this form, he also has more than enough normal pictures of you. Snapping one at every angle—the way your pupils widen and narrow in different circumstances, catching you cleaning yourself, a funny, blurred picture of you mid-yawning where he stuck his finger into your mouth and got himself a prick of your fangs and yanked his hand away. 

  He snuggles against you in bed, holding you tightly to himself and nuzzling his face into your belly again—not even leaving small scratches on his forehead gets him to let go. “Stop wriggling, you’re soft and warm—you wouldn’t leave me to sleep alone, would you? So cruel,” he guilts you, smiling all the same. 

  Aventurine is well equipped to handle some separation for a time, after all, he goes weeks—sometimes months without your presence depending what the IPC needs of him, so you KNOW he can handle a few nights without having you squeezed to his chest. But your argumentative meowing doesn’t convince him to let go. 

  He’s never owned a pet before, and it shows. He’s lucky you’re merciful. 

  But can you help yourself? No. As his eyes drift shut and the sounds of the megacity outside the windows mellow into quieter hums and the majority of citizens retreat for the night… you smuggle against him, whiskers squished uncomfortably and tail swaying, tickling his forearm. You wouldn’t dare wake him, every wink of peaceful sleep is precious and if holding you in this furry form the Aeons have cursed upon you for the next days gives him comfortable rest, then you will be uncomfortable for a few nights. You’ll live. 

Blade;

The door slides open, your small ears flicking towards the sound as you blink towards Blade’s approaching form. He looks unhappy—annoyed, even. You don’t even have time to meow curiously before he’s hauling you upwards and carrying you under his arm. 

  Your protests fall on deaf ears as you hiss and flail, you feel like he’s going to drop you any second, plus, it’s uncomfortable!! 

 Thankfully, he puts you down relatively quickly, plopping you down on a sofa before sitting down himself… you shake yourself and sit down, squinting at him… what does he want? Blade doesn’t look at you, merely folds his arms over his chest and sits in silence. Okay, you’re trained in Blade-communication, kind of—fetching you abruptly… not looking at you…

  He wants affection.

  Fair enough, you’ve got plenty—though it’s difficult to express it like this. Stretching for a moment, Blade watches as you rub your cheek into his side before hopping onto his lap, tail swaying lazily as you stare up at him—as if trying to either read his mind or get him to start talking. Good luck with both. 

  You raise your paw and whack at his chest, meowing attentively. 

  Blade frowns and takes your front leg, holding it softly. He presses his thumb on the beans beneath your paw and watches as claws instinctively emerge… he doesn’t say anything as the then opens your mouth and inspects the sharp fangs there before Blade nods and pats your head stiffly. 

  You’re not entirely sure what he was doing—perhaps checking to make sure you had the components to defend yourself? It would be in line—but you sit still while he does. After the stiff pet, you lean into his hand and chase after it as he pulls away. His hand stills as you reach into it, and he resumes the pet. 

  “There are times I wish you were this quiet,” he utters, large hand practically engulfing your small, furry head. “But now that you are unable to talk my ears off, I find that perhaps I didn’t mind it as much as I imagined.”

  Your tail sways a little faster, maybe he finds it easier to talk to you like this? When there’s not really a ‘person’ staring back at him, making him face himself in the reflection of human eyes. You wonder if he talks to animals he passes by like this. 

  Of course, Blade knows you can hear him, that you understand his words… but it is the inherent humanity in your gaze that halts his words, and now that there’s just… this fuzzy little creature who happens to be you in front of him. He finds it easier. 

  That’s alright, you don’t need him to carve out his heart and lay it on a platter in front of you.

Dr. Ratio;

Ratio clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Come down from there, stop acting like a child,” he knows you’re in the form of a cat right now—but your conscious is not. You’re fully capable of acting like the adult you are. He’s holding a tablet he was, at this point, trying to force into your mouth. 

  Like an idiot, a very hungry idiot, you had ‘helped yourself’ to some lunch in the break room fridge… which, as Ratio had told you very firmly, is NOT for cat consumption. 

  So now, he was trying to get you to hurriedly throw it up before you start to digest it,and you are NOT making it easy for him—he’s trying to HELP you damn it. 

  Ratio’s lab is not a place for cats, in fact it’s only a place for him. You happen to come there often whether he wants it or not, but it’s his space where he can concentrate and focus on his work… your presence doesn’t necessarily disturb him, and you do bring him lunch and coffee—but in this form? 

  He had to lock you in a box. 

  You had tried to knock something over on one of his workbenches—entirely instinctively, you didn’t do it intentionally, to your defence—and then you had eaten that pasta lathered in sauce and vegetables not suited for cats, especially the heap of garlic in it. 

  And thus… you meow and wail pathetically, he placed the box onto a table, and it has bars on one side—so you’re breathing perfectly fine, as well as seeing out of it. Nevertheless, you sound like he’s torturing you?? He’s given you perfectly suitable snacks and entertainment while he finishes work. It’s your fault for not behaving. 

  But as he lets you out at the end of the day and you strut out of the box sulking, with a lowered tail and flattened ears, he sighs. 

  Ratio picks you up into his arms and rubs your furry cheek with his thumb, both an annoyed and amused glint in his eyes. “I am trying to find a solution to your little predicament, and you’re not making it easy for me. Would you feel better to be left at home?”

  You meow in protest, at least here you can watch him work, you’ll try to reign in these pesky instincts!

  Ratio hums, he pokes your nose and you sneeze lightly. “Very well, I’ll put you back into the box at the first sign of mischief.” Cruel. 

  You’re on your best behaviour, you sit and watch patiently as he swipes through datapads, searching for any information on how to get you back to your usual self. He doesn’t complain as you stretch and hop onto his lap, curling up on his thighs and laying your head against his stomach. 

  Absentmindedly, as he types and ponders, Ratio begins stroking your back. You’re surprisingly soft—not that it’s unexpected for a cat’s fur to be soft… but he doesn’t pet cats very often. You begin to rumble, a deep purr leaving you as you snooze comfortably on his lap. Ratio huffs, scratching behind your ears. “I’ll get you back to normal soon… but you are rather amusing like this.”

  He’s a rather good… pet owner (you don’t really like thinking that, but it rings rather true for this situation), he gives you space when you need it and always feeds you on time. Ratio lets you come to him and doesn’t yoink you back when you decide you don’t want to lay on him anymore. 

  He also gives the best scritches, out of everyone in the world (in your opinion (he’s also the only one giving you scritches)) and manages to reach the spot behind your ears perfectly. You meow up a storm in protest when he stops and he sighs before continuing. He supposes this is his life for the time being.

Jiaoqiu;

He finds endless enjoyment in your… predicament. He wriggles strings and makes you chase after shadows, Jiaoqiu even “accidentally” tossed the covers over your sleeping form on the bed—causing you to tangle yourself and get stuck in them. 

  Apparently the loud, distressed and helpless meowing was funny, so he said as he freed you. 

  He doesn’t tease you too much, thankfully—it was mostly over the first few days that he found amusement in the situation. But as six days come and go, he starts to get a bit worried, he hadn’t seen how it happened, he had only come home and thought a cat had wriggled through the crack in the windows and was going to put it outside and shoo it to go to their own home…

  You thankfully managed to convince him, but despite consulting with the Alchemy Commission and even asking some colleagues if anyone else had mysteriously turned into a cat… he had no answers. 

  You tried to join him along for the day, chasing after him as he left your home to meet up with Feixiao, but after noticing you were trailing him from a small distance, he shooed you back home, saying he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you, and he didn’t want you to get swept up by anything. 

  Unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn, and you don’t want to just sit around and home doing nothing but napping—tempting as it sounds. So you go around him, you know your way around the Yaoqing and easily sneak up on the three of them as they meet in a populated square.

  Well, “sneaking up on” Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu is practically impossible—before you know it, a large hand swoops you up and you’re met with violet, suspicious eyes. 

  You meow, attempting to explain yourself, but as you’re brought to Feixiao and Jiaoqiu, your partner pinches the bridge of his nose and explains that it’s just you. He had already come to them for help, but hadn’t actually brought you along—and surprisingly, Feixiao seemed rather happy to have you along.

  And thus, you came along to some meeting and a boring day on the job, but it wasn’t so bad. You looped around Jiaoqiu’s legs as he stood and sat by his side, happy to be tagging along. He sighs and pets you, as much as he enjoys your presence, he is a bit worried that he doesn’t know how to reverse this… for now, he will accept the affection and slight neediness from you to be close to him. 

  He lies down in your home come evening, tired from both the day as well as having to keep an eye on you so you hadn’t wandered about and got lost or separated from him. 

  You hop onto his chest, stretching before kneading on his shirt happily, glad that you were allowed to tag along. You dig your claws into him and purr happily. Jiaoqiu can’t help but smile and rub your ears, you’re too cute like this. “I feel that I worry about you constantly, even before you… were rather unexpectedly turned into a cat,” he hums to himself. “You don’t make it easy for me either, how did you get yourself into this predicament? Perhaps I should have you type your responses on a keyboard.”

  You can only purr and meow in response, much as you’d like to recount the incredibly stupid way this happened. 

  At least, you can sleep soundly for the night—so long as you stick close to him, he doesn’t want you to wander off and get another curse slapped on top of this one. 

Jing Yuan;

He’s… a little envious. Just a little. 

  He gets over it quickly, at first he was rather concerned—how had this happened? Is it dangerous? Hopefully reversible… but when he realises that you’re fully conscious and don’t feel ill or strange (other than what would be reasonable when your body changes like this), he relaxes slightly.      He himself doesn’t have many leads, but he sends those who can figure this out on the task to do so. Meanwhile… he likes to cuddle with you.

  Now that isn’t so unsurprising, Jing Yuan very much doesn’t like to give you a centimetre for yourself in your bed—but this is a little absurd. You’re always either on his lap, on his chest if he’s laying down, next to him (touching his thigh or leg) or even on his shoulders when he’s walking around… though you don’t really like that last part, you always feel like you’re one sharp turn from tumbling to the floor. 

  He loves to pamper you, pet you, rub your cheeks and ears, scratch behind them, feed you treats—you’re not like Mimi! That lion needs heaps of food per day to merely survive, but you’re small, you don’t need the massive bowl of fish he just brought you?! 

  While you appreciate the enthusiasm, and thought, you sneak much of it to Mimi, who is more than happy to eat some of your food… a little too happy, you once thought they were going to eat you too. 

  Jing Yuan is often busy, and as you mostly just see each other after and before work—except when you sneak him out for lunch or have a nap when you really should be doing something productive (he has that effect on people)—he’s rather happy to spend this much time with you now, even if you’re in a different form. 

  However… he does not stop kissing your nose and belly, every time he kisses your nose you sneeze—and you don’t like it when he’s poking around your belly, but no amount of hissing or whacking gets him to stop! At this point, you’ve hidden at the top of a high cabinet in the Seat of Divine Foresight. Watching Jing Yuan from above as he searches for you, trying to lure you out with some delicious smelling cheese… no! Get a hold of yourself, he’s trying to bait you out! 

  You start to realise how Mimi feels when you keep kissing and rubbing their tummy… it’s just so soft, you can’t help it, but you get it now… it’s not nice for the cat! 

  Eventually, Jing Yuan compromises, no kisses on the tummy… but twice the kisses on the head. You accept his terms. 

  The results of how to turn you back are going slowly, and so Jing Yuan gets you comfortable—no need for a cat bed though, everyone in this house, feline and not, sleeps on or around the bed. Though Mimi is not allowed on the bed when the Luofu’s weather systems display hotter temperatures, you would quite possibly perish if you had both Jing Yuan’s radiating body AND Mimi on both sides. 

  Thankfully, your fur regulates your heat very well—not so fortunate for Jing Yuan that you feel a need to lay on his chest over the night and he wakes up five times because you keep going back after he moves you next to him. It’s his fault, he insisted you lay on him constantly at the start, he trained you to do this.

  He is rather careful that when you and Mimi play around that the lion doesn’t accidentally… eat you, or crush you—Mimi is socialised with people rather well and doesn’t chase animals too much, but they have always been the only cat in the house. Thankfully it seems Mimi at least somewhat recognises that you’re still you, despite stinking of “foreign cat in my house”.

  Mimi also has given you precisely four baths in the last week, you look like you were tossed in a blender after they’ve licked you clean. 

Moze;

He has you tucked into a cloth bag he made to carry you around. you meow in concern, as you feel that accompanying him of stealth and espionage missions isn’t… the best idea. 

  “It’s fine, you’re in no danger,” he assures… surprisingly, Moze is very good at deciphering what you’re trying to communicate. He reaches back and pets your head before leaping down from the ledge he stood on.

  You hold on for dear life, digging your claws into his back. Why couldn’t you just stay at home and nap?!

  The mission was short and only for the purpose of gathering information… but you felt like you were either going to be discovered, going to be tossed off Moze’s back, going to die, and become paste on the ground (you will have a long discussion about these leaps of faith once you’re back to normal) through the entire thing.

  He does comfort and give you some nice fish in the aftermath… but you will not be accompanying him again. Lesson learned. Moze didn’t seem disappointed either way, it doesn’t seem that he minded taking you along—you thought he was teaching you a lesson, but he actually just does all that all the time?! You understand his job… but does he have to leap from such high perches??

  As usual, Moze decides to take a bath after the mission, and picks you up… as it to make you join him? You are not going into the water, you accidentally stepped in your water bowl a day ago, you know the feeling that will kill you inside. 

  Near violently thrashing, hissing, meowing and using any display of “PLEASE DON’T PUT ME IN THE WATER” you can, Moze finally lets you go. He hums and touches his chin in thought. “You should clean yourself, then. We got dirty on the mission, you can’t go into bed like that.”

  … clean yourself? Like, licking?

  He must have understood the dumb look you’re giving him (cats do have a distinct “what did you just say to me” look) and shrugs. “Don’t break your own rules.”

  You did set a rule that he had to wash after missions, not that you necessarily had to—Moze is very hygienic, but sometimes…  he is a bit too tired, which is when you would just get up and wash him yourself while he dozes off in the tub. It’s nice.

  … a comfortable memory, but he looks very nonchalantly serious. You do need to clean yourself if you won’t let him toss you in the tub (which you wont). 

  It’s a bit awkward at first, and you hiss at Moze when he stands and watches you—it’s embarrassing enough already!—until he nods and turns to the bathroom… it takes longer than you would have imagined, and also is very meticulous, but eventually you feel much cleaner and better and realise that it wasn’t so bad.

  Happy and feeling lighter, you hop into bed (you’re still faster than it takes Moze to bathe) and curl up… exhausted, you fall asleep immediately, only rousing when the bed dips next to you and Moze strokes along your back for a while, you don't move, feeling very comfortable… until you feel a small bump of a kiss on top of your head, between your now perked ears.

  He lays down properly, on his side as you flop on your back and get comfortable. Despite the uncomfortable instincts to knock things over, and having to groom yourself… sleeping is very comfortable in this body. Or maybe it’s just being next to Moze.

Sunday;

Sunday is lucky if he even gets to have you around. As soon as you’re suddenly a cat, half the Express is suddenly very interested in keeping you to themselves. Of course, March kidnapped you from Sunday’s room the morning after—it gave him a bit of a fright, at first you had suddenly become a cat, now you had disappeared, but he calmed slightly when he saw March putting a bowtie around your neck and dressing you up using some costumes she uses for Pom Pom… you’re quite a bit smaller than Pom Pom, but March makes it work. 

  He finally managed to free you, one might think you’ve just been through some horrors as your claws cling to his clothes and he sets you down on your bed. Sunday tries to calm and assure you, but it takes a while for you to get over the traumatising event until you fall asleep. 

  After being passed around like a plushy, the Express gets over the fact that their fellow member has now become a cat, and instead start pondering how it happened and how to fix it.       Sunday does what he can to research what to do, but he can’t help thinking… you’re very cute like this. Your large eyes that stare at him as he goes back and forth tending to chores on the Express (he decided to handle your as well while you’re in this form), your tail sways when he comes closer and slows when he walks past you. You don’t even notice that he does it deliberately a few times, just because he thinks it’s rather adorable. 

  He also makes sure to take good care of you, even in ways that’s not really necessary, like brushing your fur and making sure there’s no tangles or knots… it does feel very nice, when you loaf on his lap and he drags the brush over your back. 

  Sunday does however try to brush your teeth one time, which becomes a chasing game where you eventually hid in the engine room to avoid him—your teeth are perfectly fine! No need to brush! (There is a need to, but it’s uncomfortable!)

  “...? Why are you—?” you leap into the air, a startled yowl leaving you as Pom Pom is suddenly behind you, they in turn also shout in surprise and your hiding spot is quickly discovered when Himeko comes running to see what was wrong. 

  Sunday did apologise and didn’t try to mess with your teeth again, thankfully. You hopefully won’t be stuck like this for long… would damage even come to your actual teeth? Does damage carry over? Will you be hairier when you return to normal??

  You like to be near Sunday, following him around and watching what he’s doing day around—he doesn’t really know what’s going through your head, but he doesn’t mind you either, you don’t get in his way at all. He stops to pet you occasionally and gives good scratches under your chin, your purring makes him happy that you like to be petted so much by him—especially after Dan Heng’s quite clumsy petting. He meant well, but the patting was effectively smacking on your head a few times. 

  “I much prefer you as normal,” Sunday says as he strokes you from head to swaying tail. “I don’t quite hold the same conversational skills as you do, holding it up by myself is quite difficult.” 

  You wouldn’t say that you’re “conversationally skilled”, it’s rather Sunday that is rather quiet now that he has boarded the Express. Not that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone… he just has much to think about, and your voice takes him out of his head. 

  “Meow for me?” he rubs your right ear. “Even your voice as a small cat sounds like you. I wish to hear it.”

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌊🐟🌊

Credit: @astroismypassion

🌊 Cancer Sun men (some other Cancer placement can be that as well like Cancer Venus, Cancer Mercury) are I noticed veryy indecisive. But they are masking that indeciveness behind “oh I just haven’t met the right person for me yet”. As partners they tend to get lazy, more controlling with time, but paint a very very almost this ideal picture in the beginning. You might not be able to find anything bad, because they seems so ideal on paper. They could be cheap too. They also dislike paying, prefer to split 50/50, but make sure that they are spending LESS than you, so they still feel taken care of. They pay only what is theirs and if something is shared between both of you, they expect you to take care of it.

🐟 A lot of Taurus Sun people are gym/workout freaks secretly, but can be inconsistent with it, so you might never openly know this about them.

🌊 I find it’s a slight, small and funny difference between Scorpio Moon and Scorpio over the 4th house native. Scorpio Moon is so secretive, private and doesn’t disclose information easily. You might be their best friend, but still don’t know their family situation to the full extent. But with Scorpio over the 4th house I noticed can kind of be oversharers?? It’s harder for them to keep a secret and when they vibe with someone in a nice conversation, they end up overspilling information.

🐟 Your partner can be a mix of your Juno, Jupiter and sign over 1st, 4th and 7th house. 1st house because there could be found people that are so “in your face”, because you were literally meant to meet them in this lifetime, 4th house is people you introduce to your parents, take home and 7th house are people that are similar to you, yet different enough that you feel they complete you and that you can learn from them.

🌊 Your IC sign shows some of the deepest parts of you that have been instilled in you and have been in your family for generations and generations. It is also what you know best, what already comes to you naturally. For example: Aries IC you are unafraid of conflict, you are not scared to be confrontational.

🐟 I noticed Taurus over the 12th house or Taurus Lilith are more prone of wanting to steal something material from you, like a material item, if they feel you hurt them emotionally. Watch out for Taurus Lilith especially, because they feel like they are never abundant enough, I noticed there is something missing when they are around you, like you might start missing your umbrella or something little and mundane.

🌊 I still think about 8th house Synastry that usually both people need to change. So it’s not about pointing fingers that planet person or house person. It’s usually not enough just one doing the changes and the other not, for the connection to run more smoothly.

🐟 I noticed Composite Libra Rising couples really struggle with other people. Usually the only conflict these two have is about other people. You might not even complain about each other, but when there is tension, it is about other people. Like your/their friends, how much time they are spending with certain other people.

🌊 Composite 1st house shows the things you liked about each other in the beginning, but these are the very same things that you resent with time or dislike later on and complain about. For example: Composite Aquarius Rising: you will like that you are still able to be with them and chase your dream goals, you like that you still are able to have your independent life besides them, that they give you enough freedom and personal space. But later you will start noticing that you “drifted apart/didn’t take enough time for each other”.

🐟 Taurus Venus natives really crave a partner that pays for them. But I noticed once they get older, it reverses from what I’ve seen? They are usually the one getting taken advantage of and paying eveything or a lot of the things for their partner.

🌊 Venus in the 8th house in Synastry chart gives energy of “We are not in a partnership, but I also don’t like you trying to date other people”. 😅

🐟 Composite Pisces Mars, Mars at 12 degrees or Composite Mars in the 12th house will really hold you accountable, even when you will be trying sweep thoughts, feelings, conversations, under the rug.😩 Like yes, it is known for sweeping topics under the rug, giving too many chances, forgiving. But you will notice things go wrong or poorly/bad in the connection when you just let it slide. Like the universe won’t allow you to do that, if it’s not genuine. You might not vocalize certain of your genuine thoughts, ideas, feelings for the sake of keeping peace in the connection that one time, but it will blow up in your face later all at once, because the universe won’t let it slide. 😬

🌊 Often when people say “Oh my partner did that for me in the beginning, but they don’t do it anymore now”, I suggest look at your partner’s Venus sign. This is how they behave towards you to attract you. This is “the attractive you” you are usually in the beginning, early stages of getting to know someone or when you are going in for y job interview. For example:

Aries Venus: they will asking YOU firstly jokingly “Are you trying to flirt me?😂”, they can slide this one casually in the conversation.

Taurus Venus: buy you a little gift (but usually great great quality), treat you to a meal out or sharing snacks with you. might also gift you clothing for the very first birthday you have, which is their way of telling you they like you.

Gemini Venus: helps you out a lot (sometimes forces their help onto you😅), pays for drinks, seems like they will help you or be there for you if anything happens every day out of the week.

Cancer Venus: they usually potray themselves as the emotional one and describe people around them are all “so stone cold”, they are more emotionally open in the beginning to lure you in, but later you realize they are quite stoic actually or even nonchalant.

Leo Venus: gives a lot of attention mostly in the beginning. because later they wanna experience being the one that is the center of attention in the relationship.

Virgo Venus: will text you consistently and always make sure that they are there for you, also the one to likely help you out, but with ulterior motives😅

Libra Venus: another one that pays for your meals, they will take you out, wine and dine you, you will feel like they know all the good restaurants.

Scorpio Venus: now, this one is hard. it’s usually in their stares. If it’s there, it’s already in the EYE CONTACT. If you don’t know what I mean by eye contact, then the sparkle is not there. but quite soon, they will have a a little, but manageble jealous episode, when you mention your female/male friends and that is how they reveal themselves that they care about you.

Sagittarius Venus: oh this one will take you places, organize that bike trip, show you a city they know really well and take you around, feed you with their stories and impress you with their many life experiences.

Capricorn Venus: acting too busy, burdened with duties, but actually hanging with their parents in the free time or playing video games. oh gosh, they give such air of being on their own constant strict schedule, that you will feel like they don’t have time for you, so that when they give you their time, you will think it is special.

Aquarius Venus: this one is unique, will likely organize a set up, group situation with a few of their trusted friends with you going for a drink/meal, but it’s a test try, to see how well you would merge in, another type is acting super busy and productive with you, but actually hanging with friends, partying.

Pisces Venus: lure you in by giving you things, items for free or impressing you with their musical talent, sing you a song, make you homemade art, treating you to a nice sweet homebaked treat, they will give the impression of being naive, but that’s quite far for it.

🐟 You might argue less with people how have Saturn on your Ascendant, because you will feel like you need to level up mentally and act more mature when you are around them, so you are likely to avoid petty fights, but only when you are with this person.

🌊 We often watch TV series, films with actors who share the same Moon sign as us. For example: I noticed Sex and the City TV series is very popular among Aquarius and Capricorn Moon people (also Sagittarius Moon to certain extent) and main actresses have these Moon signs too.

�� Aquarius Mars people are few of the actors who actually don’t mind being known for THAT one movie/TV series role and don’t try to run away from that image, they instead embrace it. For example: actress Eva Longoria (Aquarius Mars) who still to this day doesn’t mind being asked about her well-known and iconic role as Gaby Solis in TV series Desperate Housewives.

Credit: @astroismypassion

[avocado-writing]

Hello there dear! If you are still taking requests how would you feel about writing something for logan x reader x wade, where reader gets between them while they're arguing/in a fight and gets hurt by accident? And how they would react to that.

Totally fine if you don't like the idea. Thank you for giving us all these lovely works!

It’s hard to know which one of them started it. Probably Wade. It’s usually Wade, saying something stupid or offhand which irritates Logan into a physical reaction. But occasionally Logan forgets to mind his mouth, especially when he’s had a couple of drinks, and then they’re just at each other’s throats with knives and claws. 

They have gotten better to be fair. Calmer. More adjusted to living in the same space, being together all the time. Plus you beg - beg - them not to fight in the apartment, there just isn’t enough room for it. 

To their credit they only get into fisticuffs at Wade’s place. Your home, with your boho throws and favourite posters, has remained unscathed. It is Switzerland in this damn war of testosterone. 

You’ve had Wade’s spare key forever now, he even got you a little unlicensed Deadpool charm to put on it, and you have your headphones in when you open the door. The sound of 80s rock covers up the noise of carnage inside, and that is why you’re so totally unprepared when the bottle comes flying at you. 

It does not hit you to be fair. It shatters on the doorframe, showering you in glass. You gasp. From where Logan has Wade in a headlock and Wade is trying to stab his way out, your boys freeze. Clearly Wade tried to bottle him, Logan swatted it away, and the situation at hand was created. A beat passes as you try and recover from what’s happened, and you feel a small trickle of blood run down to your jaw from your cheek. 

You rip the headphones from your ears, more angry than you’ve ever been. Their faces drop. 

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me, you two?! I’ve asked you not to fight because of shit exactly like this!”

You use the plain of your hand to wipe your face and grimace when it comes back red. This seems to break the two of them out of their stupor and your boys are immediately on their feet. 

“Fuck, pookie, we’re sorry—” Wade says, at the same time Logan starts, “Baby, we didn’t mean to—”

You hold up your bloodied hand in the universal sign for them to stop. They do, like a pair of trained dogs. 

“Fuck this shit. I’m done,” you snarl, because if you don’t rev up the anger you know you’ll start to cry. Tears are starting to prickle in the corner of your eyes. Before either of them can say anything you’ve turned on your heel and left the building. 

When you’re home, a glass of Sauvignon blanc deep and with a band aid on your cheekbone, you realise you didn’t really mean it. You’re not “done”. Done with their squabbling, maybe, and done with the situation in that moment, but not done done. You should probably call Wade up and apologise to them both, but honestly you’re still sort of angry at the whole scenario. 

You shove a handful of Cheetos in your mouth and stab the play button on the remote, sinking into the sofa as the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy plays, determined to be distracted in any way possible… when there’s a knock at the door. 

When you open it of course it’s them. They look like repentant schoolboys. Logan’s holding half a dozen boxes from your favourite pizza place, Wade has a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around the neck. There’s a tag on it. It says “we’re sorry :(“ with a little doodle of them both in Wade’s hand. 

You soften. How could you not?

“We fucked up, we know!” he says quickly, anticipating that you might slam the door on him. “We’re sorry. Isn’t that right, peanut?”

“Yeah,” Logan sighs, remarkably accepting of the nickname when he’s grovelling to you. You drum your fingers on the doorknob. “Sorry you’ve got a couple of knuckleheads as partners, honey.”

Knuckleheads. That about sums them up. What a cute word, though; you forget how adorable they can both be, when they’re not trying to kill each other.  

“Did you get the mozzarella sticks?” you ask, nodding at the pile of food. Wade grins. He knows they’ve won. 

“Two portions, honey.”

“Hmm, okay. You can come in.”

They do and you shut the door behind them. Wade wastes no time in heading to your glass cabinet and decanting a drink for each of you, Logan clearing your coffee table so he can unpack the pizza. He grabs a slice of pepperoni as you sit down between the two of them, ready to imbibe. 

“We really are fucking sorry. Seriously, pookie, we won’t do it again,” Wade reiterates as he pushes a drink into your hand. You hum. 

“I know. I’m fucking serious though, boys. I’m done with your squabbles. Next time you wanna go at each other, one of you leave the room and take a walk around the block to cool down. Even if you don’t want to, think of me and do it anyway. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wade agrees quickly before looking at Logan with intent. The older man sighs. 

“Okay,” he agrees, hand on your knee in acceptance, “anything for you. Sorry again, bub.”

You squeak as Wade reaches over to press a kiss against the band-aid on your cheek. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Making it better.” His kiss lands on your lips this time. He tastes of grease. Must have sneaked a piece of garlic bread on the way up, cheeky bastard. You feel Logan’s hands slip around your waist. 

“Mmm, boys, the pizza…”

“Can be reheated. God gave us microwaves so that we could give you orgasms,” says Wade, happily, “or we can feed you mozzarella while we eat you out, your choice.”

You look at Logan for his opinion on the matter and he shrugs. 

“Sounds good to me.”

You grin, and the pizza grows cold.  

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[ofbatsandballads]

i love you, i’m sorry

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: injured character, explicit descriptions of wounds, brief mention of reader having a panic attack, emotional angst, bad dad Bruce implied

a/n: i just feel like jason showing up half dead at your door would be a massive turning point in your relationship, y’know? can be read as a successor to this or as a standalone.

divider credit: saradika

When Red Hood comes to you, he’s almost always hurt. You’ve learned to keep a first aid kit that would make any hospital jealous and with no formal training you’ve picked up skills that rival that of an army medic. Over the last year, you’ve seen gashes, bruises, concussions, even a dislocated shoulder.

You have never seen anything like this.

You spot him the second you walk through your front door. He’s slumped against the wall just below your window. His armor has gashes in it and blood steadily drips from the tears. There’s more blood dripping down his chest, making the red bat symbol look like it’s melting. More concerning than anything else is the helmet. It’s broken. There’s a huge chunk of it missing on the left side of his head. You can see the red domino mask underneath, the battered skin that’s already coloring the initial red-purple of a black eye, and the blood flowing from a nasty looking cut on his eyebrow.

You freeze. A bolt of panic shoots from your head to your toes. No, not panic. Fear. Pure, undiluted fear. Because he looks like he’s dying. The thought startles you out of your haze and you slam your front door shut, locking the five different locks he’d insisted on installing around three months into your partnership. You run to him. You don’t know what to do. All you know is you need to get to him.

You drop to your knees and place your hands on either side of his head. For the first time, your right hand meets skin instead of cool metal. Maybe another time you’d savor that, but your hand is slick with his blood the second you make contact.

“Red?” you call, voice frantic.

You repeat the nickname over and over, fear rising into your throat when he makes no acknowledgment of you, when there’s no sign of life. You continue to call for him, begin gently shaking his shoulder. Finally, the white lens of the domino mask narrows and expands. A blink. He’s alive.

“Hey.”

His voice is broken, weak, filled with pain. He’s hurt in a way you’ve never seen him hurt. Underneath the fear you feel a surge of anger. Whoever did this to him…you want their head on a pike.

“Hi…hi,” you greet him shakily.

You’re lost. He’s in such bad shape you don’t know where to begin. You decide to look at the wounds on his torso first. There’s many, but the blood that leaks from them is the bright red of surface wounds. Most of the blood he’s drenched in comes from a brutal gash situated just between his helmet and his body armor. It’s a tiny sliver of skin, maybe an inch of exposure, but it’s raggedly cut open.

Whoever hurt him had aimed just right to target the inconspicuous vulnerability. The rage flares again before it’s swallowed up by fear. You press your hand against the wound to stem the flow of thick, dark blood. Your heart breaks at the groan of pain he lets out.

Finally, you look at his head. This is the first time you’ve seen any part of his face. You’ve longed to know who your nighttime companion is, who your friend is. You never wanted to see him like this. The eyebrow cut is long, a slice from just above his eyelid to the middle of his forehead. Bruises cover his brow bone, his cheekbone, his forehead. Every bit of exposed skin looks battered. It clicks in your brain in one horrifying instant.

His wounds aren’t from a shootout or a tussle with a criminal gone south. He’s been beaten. Badly. And there’s only one person who you can think of that would be capable of harming him like this. You pull your curtains shut and say a prayer to whoever’s listening that the World’s Greatest Detective isn’t still hunting him.

“Red? I need to get you to the bathroom, okay?” you ask, the cracking in your voice betraying any sense of strength you were trying to convey.

He doesn’t respond and you feel fear shoot through you again. Then his arm wraps around your waist and you breathe a sigh of relief. You can’t lift him to his feet, nor could you support his weight if you managed it. You realize you’re going to have to crawl to your bathroom.

The process is slow and awkward. Red Hood lifts himself off the wall, slumping forward toward you. You pull his arm over your shoulder, and even with both of you on the ground his weight is heavy against you. You keep one arm wrapped around his waist, the other slowly helping to drag the both of you towards your bathroom.

Your muscles are burning and your arms are shaky when you finally make it. With his help, you manage one last burst of strength to get him into your bathtub. You think that that’s the last bit of help you’ll get from him tonight when he goes limp against the tub wall.

You feel a sudden wave of anxiety come over you. You’re going to need to get his clothes off. Worse, you need the helmet off. You feel wrong even thinking about it. Once when he’d had a bad concussion, you’d woken him every hour on the hour with your eyes closed so as not to see his face.

“Red…I know you’re not going to like this, but I have to take off your helmet, okay? I need to see if there’s any other wounds under there,” you say carefully, slowly, like trying to comfort a wounded animal ready to bite.

You feel his shoulders stiffen under your hands. You wait for him to tell you no, to fight you on it like he has every time before. Instead he gives a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. It makes you feel even worse. You had hoped that if he ever revealed himself to you it would be because he trusted you, not out of necessity.

His hands reach up to push on the undersides of the helmet and you hear the distinct click of it unlatching. He weakly pushes it off his head and drops it on the bathroom floor. It’s more of him than you’ve ever seen and you try not to look too long. But then his hands are up by his face again and you can’t stop the look of shock that creeps on your face as he willingly pulls the domino mask off.

For the first time, you see his eyes. They’re a beautiful seafoam green. You feel your breath catch in your throat. You already felt a fondness in your chest for the man that keeps you safe. He scoffed when you told him that for the first time. Made some snide comment about if you were aware of the fact that he kills people. You just remained steadfast, told him that he protected good people, innocent people. You told him that he was good.

You never doubted the phrase, but now you know firsthand how true it rings. Eyes are the window to the soul. Now there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s good. And no doubt that you care for him deeply. He lets out one shaky breath that pulls you from your trance. He looks a little nervous, a little vulnerable. You suppose he is, so you keep moving.

“Lean forward for me, just a little? I need to see the back of your head,” you murmur.

He obeys, a slight hiss leaving him at having to crane his neck. You’ve got your hand pressed against the cut under his jaw and you feel blood gush as he tilts his head down. Your other hand gently combs through his hair as you look for gashes or bumps. Thankfully you find none, though you suspect he might be concussed.

“I’m gonna patch you up now, but I need to get all this off. Is that okay?” you ask.

He looks extremely put out by the idea of being undressed. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable. After all, you don’t know how thrilled you’d be if you had to strip down in front of him. You think you could stitch him up through the tattered gear, but then he’d need to shower. He can’t even stand by himself right now. He realizes it too. He gives one jerky nod, his sea green eyes staring right through you.

You pull the easiest stuff off first. His boots, socks, and holsters lay abandoned on your bathroom floor next to your small waste bin. You move on to his body armor. He has to help you but you get it off without causing him too much pain. His tactical pants are next. Belt, button, zipper. Simple. You pull them off and add them to the pile of bloodied gear.

Now that he’s undressed you see that your lightbulb moment was correct. Bruises are starting to color across his body, a memento of blunt force. You fix what you can. It’s easy to stitch the little cuts on his torso, slightly harder to close the neck gash. Soon he’s all patched up, the blood beginning to dry on his skin in that uniquely gross sticky-crusty mix.

“Can I—I mean, would it be okay if I ran you a bath?” you ask quietly.

He looks wide eyed at you. You tell him that it’s fine if not, that you can figure something else out. It’s important to you to be careful of his boundaries, always respecting what he was willing to give. Perhaps that’s why he finally gives a slow nod of consent. His final item of clothing comes off and you add his boxers to the literal laundry list of clothing on your floor.

You start running his bath, leaving to grab a washcloth and toss his bloodstained clothing in the washer while the tub fills. As you're setting the cycle to run, your mind flashes with muddled, disjointed thoughts.

Thoughts about pain and sacrifice and betrayal and trust. The Batman did this to him. The Batman also helped him take down a Falcone drug ring three weeks ago. The man in your bathtub was Robin, a bright light in a city so dark that it snuffs any glimmer of hope that shines through. The man in your bathtub is Red Hood, a scourge to the ilk of Gotham with so much blood on his hands that he’s drowning in it. It’s all so much. Then you wonder if anyone has ever extended their hand to him and never curled it into a fist later on. And it hits you hard and soft all at once: you’re in this forever now. You won’t leave him. You love him.

It’s ridiculous. You love this man whose face you had never seen until tonight, whose name you don’t know. But you know that he loves classic literature after the night that he’d browsed your bookshelf after you wrapped his sprained wrist. You know that he has a fondness for chocolate chip cookies after the night he crawled through your window while you were baking a batch. You know he’s kind after the night he came by just to check on you, only to find you having a panic attack on your bathroom floor. You know he’s gentle after he picked you up off the ground and carried you to your bed, after he put your hand to his chest and made you breathe in time with him, after he held you until you fell asleep. And what was a name or a face compared to a heart and soul?

You swallow down the confession you’ve made to yourself and head back to the bathroom because right now it doesn’t matter. He needs help; you can worry about your being in love with him later. The tub is just about full when you get back and you turn the knobs shut. You dip the washcloth beneath the warm water and grab your bottle of soap off the ledge.

“This is all I’ve got, so you may just have to deal with smelling like me for the night,” you say, attempting to crack a joke.

“Well, y’smell nice, so ‘m okay with that,” he mumbles, Gotham accent thicker than you’ve ever heard it.

You can’t see yourself, but you’re pretty sure your face is as red as his helmet. You busy yourself by squeezing an unnecessary amount of soap into the cloth, scrubbing it until it’s more suds than fabric. You begin slowly, making sure his watchful eyes can see every move as you bring the cloth to his neck. You wash the blood and sweat off him gently, careful not to go near the stitched up gash.

“Can you raise your arms for me, Red?” you ask quietly as you run the cloth over his shoulders

“Jason.”

Your head snaps to face him and you feel like someone’s just slapped you.

“My name’s Jason.”

He whispers it like it’s a confession. You smile at him, soft and warm.

“Okay, Jason. Can you lift your arms?”

You spend the better part of an hour bathing him. Once all the blood, sweat, and grime is gone, you give him a towel fresh from the dryer to wrap himself in and leave him to dry off. You give him a thick red hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants you’d bought for him after the concussion incident. You still feel bad about him having to sleep in his gear that night.

You turn your favorite classical music playlist on low volume and the two of you sit comfortably in silence on your couch. You’re reading an Agatha Christie novel and Jason is resting with his eyes closed, no doubt nursing the migraine you gave him some Tylenol for. You think that maybe he dozes off a couple times when his breathing goes even and deep.

You take the time to memorize details of him, uncertain if you’ll ever get the blessing of seeing him as he is again. He’s got inky dark hair that’s on the longer side of short. There’s a stark white tuft in the front that stays neatly curled to itself, not a single hair slipping into the night black mess of waves and curls. His hooked nose and strong jawline give him a striking, rugged handsomeness. Scars litter his face. Some are barely there little white lines, while others are thicker and jagged at the edges.

Scars cover the rest of his body too. Every bit of skin you saw while bathing him has some form of scarring. You recognized healed slashes from knives or glass, thick circles with rough edges from bullet wounds. The one that took you by surprise is the largest of them. It’s red and raised in the shape of a Y, the two forks extending from the edges of his collarbones and meeting in the middle to carve straight down, taking a little curve around his belly button before disappearing into the dark trail of curls that leads to his pelvis. You’ve seen enough NCIS to know what it is: an autopsy scar.

You can’t even begin to fathom how he got an autopsy scar. You quickly remind yourself that it’s none of your business and push the sharp ache in your chest down, down, down. Your mind is still a hazy mess, a deluge of thoughts that leave a faint numbness and sorrow in their wake. You feel so deeply for this man that lies quietly on your couch. You wish you could protect him, as ridiculous as the idea sounds. You don’t even realize you’ve lost yourself to your thoughts until his sweet voice pulls you out.

“You’re in your head again,” he says quietly.

You turn your head to him slowly, still in a daze.

“Sorry, just thinking,” you reply, giving him a strained smile.

Anxiety washes over his face. He pushes himself forward, elbows on his knees like he’s trying to take up less space.

“I’ll get goin’ soon. ‘M sure I’ve wasted enough of your time,” he murmurs.

“Please stay here tonight.”

You spit it out without thinking. The last thing you want is him to think you were spacing out because you didn’t want him here or because he was an inconvenience.

“What?” he asks blankly.

His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks an odd mix of dumbfounded and agitated.

“Please stay. I don’t want you heading back out there tonight. Please, just stay here where you’re safe,” you whisper.

It’s a quiet request, but a desperate one. You need him to stay. You need to know he’ll be safe, that he’ll make it through the night.

“I…” he trails off uncertainly.

“You don’t hafta take care of me, y’know?” he finally spits out, “I’m not somethin’ you can fix.”

You bristle. Is that what he thinks of you? Even after all these months? That he’s some fixer upper to you? Some pet project?

“I’m not trying to fix you, Jason,” you say firmly.

His name is new in your mouth, but it feels natural even in the midst of your frustration.

“Good, ‘cause I can take care of myself. Been doin’ it for years now,” he bites.

Okay, now you’re starting to get a little annoyed. He’s done this a couple of times over the past year. Pushing you away when you just want to help him, just want to make sure he’s okay. And that’s fine. You can handle that most times. But not tonight. Not when you’ve just coaxed him back to life, not when you felt like you were so close to losing him.

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore!” you snap.

You see him tense at your harsh tone and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm your storming emotions.

“I…I’m not doing this because I’m trying to fix you. I’m doing this because you’re a human being. That first night…I’m sure you could’ve handled it yourself once you woke up. But I couldn’t leave you alone, hurting. Not then, not now,” you begin, leveling him with a stare so fierce that it holds him in place.

He goes to open his mouth, no doubt to argue, and you hold up a finger to quiet him.

“And I have no illusions that you won’t come back hurting again. None. I know you will. I know we’ll keep doing this over and over and over again. And I don’t care. I’m not leaving you alone. I won’t do it. So push all you want, but I refuse to be anything less than someone you can count on.”

Silence. The weight of your words is heavy in the air. You’re expecting him to leave. Even with his clothes still in your washing machine. You’re sure if he wanted to go, he’d just unplug the thing from the wall and throw his damp gear back on. You brace yourself for it. A small part of you even feels the pang of heartache at the thought that he might never come back.

You’re not expecting him to surge forward and thread his fingers into your hair to pull you into a kiss. You’re not expecting the burning intensity you feel him pour into it. You’re not expecting the warmth of his scarred mouth pressing against your soft lips. You’re not expecting how easy it is to kiss him back, as natural and simple as breathing.

He pulls away all too quickly. Doubt flashes in those sea green eyes and his entire body recoils back from you. You don’t let him run far, fingers curling in his night black mess of hair. You pull him back to you, his forehead resting against yours even as his body is strung tight as a bowstring.

“Well now I can’t let you go,” you whisper.

“I shouldn’ta done that,” he mutters shakily.

“You should do it again.”

You have no idea where the sudden burst of confidence has come from. It’s so very unlike you, you who are normally so passive, so calm and docile. But it seems to bring Jason to his knees because a desperate noise sounds from deep in his chest and his big, warm hands come up to cradle your face as he slots your mouths together again. You sigh his name against his lips when he pulls you closer and then he’s pushing you away. With no effort at all, he picks you up and gently shoves you to the other side of your sofa. He rises too quickly and sways on his feet.

“I can’t–I can’t do this. I won’t do this to you,” he rushes out as he staggers toward your window.

You’re bolting in front of it before you can even think.

“You’re not doing anything to me. You’ve already told me the risks of being associated with you. I’m okay with them. I want this. I want you,” you tell him, and you’re so earnest that it leaves no room for doubt.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for. You can’t just show me a little kindness and fix me up to love you right,” Jason insists.

You should be mad again, but this time his statement lacks all the bite that it held before. Instead, you can hear the self-loathing in his voice, recognize the burn of it from the countless nights you two have sat on your floor debating whether he’s a hero or a necessary evil. And that just won’t do. You cradle his face and angle his head down to lock eyes, anchoring him in place.

“All I want is you, just as you are, come what may.”

There’s a shine to his pretty eyes, soft silver pools in the pale moonlight of the Gotham night. He shakes his head.

“Can’t make me somethin’ I‘m not,” he says, “‘m not made for this.”

And, oh, how your heart aches for this beautiful man. He’s so convinced that he’s violence incarnate, nothing but blood and gunpowder.

“We decide what we’re made for, what we want to be made for. What do you want, Jason?” you ask him softly.

Your hands are so gentle combing through his hair, thumb stroking his cheekbone sweetly. He flinches at the contact and you go to pull away, but he leans into your touch once he recognizes it won’t hurt him.

“I…don’t deserve it,” he whispers.

There’s something unspoken there. Something buried deep down in his chest. It aches to get out. He wants to scream it but the walls he’s built brick by brick around himself muffle the noise. I don’t deserve it, but I want it. He doesn’t have to say it, though. You understand loud and clear. And that alone is comfort to him, that he doesn’t have to say the quiet part out loud, that you just know him. No one has known him in years.

“This isn’t something you have to earn. And even if your answer truly is no, I’ll still be here in any way you want me to be.”

That’s what breaks him. Because it has only ever been something he’s had to earn. He had to earn it from his mother; earned it with cans of stolen soup heated in a rusted pot when Catherine was lost in the fog of her addiction, earned it with each spoonful he held to her mouth. He had to earn it from Bruce; earned it with every case solved, with every batarang that landed home in a bullseye, with every civilian saved. He had to earn it from Talia; earned it with every hit and kick, every blade mastered, every life taken. He’s had to earn love, earn affection, earn open hands instead of curled fists all his life. And you’re here offering up your love for free. You’re not even asking for him to love you back.

So as his defenses scream at him to tell you a thousand words that would cut you to ribbons–I don’t want you at all, go find another soul to save, you’re wasting your time–his heart hammers, demanding he be honest for once. He takes one shuddering breath before he whispers two words that change the trajectory of his life.

“…I’ll stay.”

And he does. He lets you nurse him back to health with water and painkillers. He lets you read to him after he sheepishly asks what your book is about. He lets you sit closer to him, shoulders and knees brushing under the soft blanket you’ve tossed over both of you. He even lets you guide him to your room, lets himself fall asleep tucked under your covers with your pinkies interlocked. It’s the first night that Jason Todd spends in your bed. It will hardly be the last.

[mingis-orangejuice]

Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 4: Sylus

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) Here's Sylus' part its the longest part, but also my favourite. hope you like it. also, I probably mixed up Luke and Kieran multiple times so just ignore it lol.

Genres/Warnings: lots of Luke and Kieran shenanigans, a bit of angst, fluff, kinda slow burn

Word count: 1936

Previous Parts 1 2 3

You were spending the day with Luke and Kieran, it was supposed to be with sylus but something came up. He didn’t want you to waste your day off so he arranged for them to escort you around Linkon and basically do whatever you want for the whole day. While you were happy to have a chill day with your bodyguards/friends Luke and Keiran you were really looking forward to spending a whole day with Sylus. But recently lots of things have come up and he kept rescheduling all your dates. Was he trying to tell you something, is this his way of saying he’s not actually interested in you romantically but he’s too chicken to tell you? No, he wouldn’t do that, Sylus is one of the most direct people you know, if he didn’t like you, he’d just say so. So then why does it feel like he’s just stringing you along, when is he going to make you two official?

“MC?...MC?...” Luke’s voice snapped you out of your train of thought. 

“What? sorry I was a little spaced out.” you turn to the twins standing above you while you sit at one of the tables of the Linkon Mall foodcourt.

“I said where do you want to go for lunch? There's so many choices” Luke gestured to the row of different restaurants among the foodcourt.

“We could always have the boss’s favourite, ever since you let him try your instant ramen that's all he asks the chefs to make for him when you’re away,” Kieran suggested as both boys took a seat next to you on the other side of the table. “There's a ramen place right over there”

“Umm… I’m not sure… I’m not really hungry right now” You looked vacantly across the mall foodcourt starting to space out again

“The boss said there's no limit to how much we can spend today so we don’t have to eat here. Or if you can’t decide on what to eat we can buy a bit of everything and you can taste them all” Kieran suggests while taking out Sylus’ black credit card from his pocket.

“You have to eat something, the boss doesn’t want you to skip meals he told us to make sure you eat something or else” Luke warned in a fake threatening voice.

“Well, I guess if I have to in order to save you two from Sylus’ wrath, then I want something homemade, not this cheap generic stuff, so let’s go back to the base and see what we can cook up, what do you say?” 

“Anything for the Boss’s girlfriend,” Kieran said with a smile, he stood up and put out his arm for him to escort you to the car.

“Huh… what did you say?” You stopped reaching for Kieran’s arm at the word girlfriend.

“Anything for the boss’s …girlfriend…. I’m confused, are you not his girlfriend” Kieran looked embarrassed like he might have misread the situation.

“Well yeah…but .. he’s never said it before…so I didn’t think he thought of me as his girlfriend.” you stood awkwardly looking at the floor and playing with your hands.

“Of course he thinks of you that way he gets all smiley when he or anyone else mentions you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the boss smile so much before you came along” Luke grabbed your bags as you guys started to head to the car. “The boss just has a hard time expressing his emotions. ”  he mentioned brightly

“Yeah for the first year of us working for him he pretended not to remember our names cuz he didn’t want to seem soft, even tho he could already tell us apart after the first day even with our masks on.” Kieran said as he looked up to the sky like he was reminiscing on the Good-old-days 

“But he always calls you his girlfriend around us” 

“Right, he even calls you his girlfriend in the task memos he sends us” Luke shows you his phone with all the tasks set out by sylus. He clicks play and a voice recording of Sylus starts. 

“1. As I’ll be away for the day take my girlfriend to the mall and get her anything she wants, to keep her happy

2. Make sure she eats something for lunch, she tends to skip meals and gets really tired halfway through the day because of it. If she doesn’t eat anything, a punishment will be waiting for you upon your return.

3. Carry everything for her no matter how much she buys, rent a truck if you have to, I don’t want her straining herself before tonight’s special event…”

“Wait” you click pause on Luke’s phone. “what event, he never told me about that.” 

“Uhh…oops” Luke quickly puts away his phone “You weren’t supposed to hear that. Just pretend it didn’t happen”

Kieran slaps Luke’s arm “You idiot, that was supposed to be a surprise, the boss is gonna kill us”

“Just what is he planning?” you interrogate the twins. Both of them looked at each other as they opened the car door and helped you in.

“our lips are sealed.” they both said in unison while placing their fingers in an X over their lips

You guys were now in the car on the way back to the base. You’ve fallen silent thinking about this special event. just what kind of event was this? It couldn't be something bad, right? Was he breaking up with you? Is that why he let you use his card with no limit, to give you one final good day then he’d cut you off??? You couldn’t take the suspense anymore, you had to know. You took your phone out of your purse and called Sylus. Your phone was connected to the car’s speakers and Kieran saw that you were calling him and got a little nervous. Sylus picked up almost immediately. 

“Yes, Sweetie? What's wrong, are Luke and Kieran not treating You well, do you need me to get rid of them for you? I’ve been looking for some new Henchmen anyway” He said with a chuckle

“Hey, we’re right here you know?” Kieran said in a hurt voice

“I know, that's why I said it” “Sylus joked

“And you wouldn’t get rid of us, right boss?” Luke asked, “We’re your favourite henchmen, right?”

Sylus completely ignores Luke's question “...So why did you call sweetie? Remember when I said I was very busy today and that we’d see each other later tonight?”

You didn’t want to beat around the bush so you got straight to the point.“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to ask about, what exactly is happening tonight? What's the Special event and why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

There was silence on the other end and then an annoyed groan. “Did you two tell her?” Sylus sounded like he was about to jump through the phone and punch both of them in the face.

“No boss we promise all she knows is that there’s an event tonight she doesn’t know anything else,” Kieran said frantically “Please don’t get rid of us”

Ignoring them again he sighed. “Where are you right now babe?”

“We were on our way to the base for lunch.” You informed him

“at least those two can do something right” he sighs. “Ok then I’ll be waiting for you at the base and I’ll explain everything.” *Click* he hangs up

Now you were even more curious, what was sylus planning?

“Do you think the boss is really gonna get rid of us?” Luke asked you in a scared voice.

“I doubt it, you guys mess up all the time and he hasn’t gotten rid of you yet, what's one more mess up” you say in a joking tone “Plus if he’s as nice as you say he is, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Later back at the base you all walk into the living room to see Sylus sitting on the couch reading a book. “Oh, you’re back.” Sylus puts down his book and pats the space next to him for you to join him on the couch. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” as you sit he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. He then looked up to where the twins were standing. “You two, I’ll deal with you later. Leave us be for now.”

“Yes boss.” they both say and hurriedly walk out of the room.

On the way to the base after the phone call you just couldn’t stop thinking about what this event could be and mixed with your thoughts from earlier you were only coming up with every bad result it could be. All those thoughts and emotions were boiling inside and before Sylus could say anything they overflowed “What are we?” 

“Huh?” Sylus looked confused “Sweetie, what do you mean?”

“Why do you keep avoiding me and why won't you call me your girlfriend? Apparently, you’ll say it in front of everyone else but me.” You moved back so you were out of his grip 

“Those two, I’ll fire them for sure this time,” He says under his breath.

“And what is this event? Why didn’t you tell me about it, is it about me? Did I do something wrong?” Your voice slightly cracked on the last word and your eyes started to get misty.

“Woah, slow down, if I knew it would make you feel like this I would have explained sooner.” He pulls you close again, holds your face in his palms and wipes your tears with his thumbs  “First, We are Sylus and MC the strongest and most feared couple in the N109 Zone.” He chuckled. “Second, I’m sorry that I made you feel this way. I knew you were curious but I didn’t know the curiosity would get to you this much. I wasn’t avoiding you, I’ve been setting up the special event that I’ll tell you more about in due time. But, as for your third question…” Sylus pulls your head in closer and places a soft kiss on your lips that nearly takes your breath away. He pulls away and looks at you with a smirk “You’ve also never called me your boyfriend so I guess we’re even” 

“Yeah well…I didn’t want to assume… I” You start to stutter both from the kiss and his accusation.

He stops you and places another kiss on your lips “I guess we both felt that way” 

“So then what about the event?” you’re now sitting closer to him his hands on your waist to keep you close.

“Oh yeah, the event… I was gonna let you watch while I fire Luke and Kieran. I set up events every time I want to fire one of my men, why do you think I had you keep them out of the house the whole day?” He joked.

You softly slapped his chest and rolled your eyes “ I know you’re joking those two might be idiots but you’d never fire them. Come on seriously what is it really?”

“Ok, I'll tell you, if you can tell me something first, what day is it today? He asks, hoping you’ll know the answer.

“Uh, Sunday?” you say confused as to why this day of the week had any significance.

“You can’t even remember yet you want me to call you my girlfriend,” Sylus said pretending to be offended “It’s the anniversary of when a little kitten first wandered into the N109 Zone and…” he pulls you into a hug “ into my life”

[jezebelblues]

dress to impress | h.s

summary: in which you're a famous streamer n you finally let harry join one of your streams. (though the evening ends a bit differently than you expected)

cw: smut18+ oral (m receiving), daddy kink if u squint, spitting, fem!reader, unedited

word count: approx 3k

| yes yes i know that dti didn’t come out till last year just pretend 😔 also btw if this is cringe random then pretend i don’t exist fr i got this idea cause caseoh randomly posted a dti update while i was at the gym so thank u caseoh

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

December 2021 | London

Snow dusted the window softly, frosting the glass and sending melting droplets downward against the pane, dancing in the direction of the wind. The world was still in the throes of the pandemic, which allowed the lines between professional and personal to blur a bit. 

YN had been a popular streamer for a few years now, but her numbers only grew once her relationship went public with the award winning, globe-trotting man that was Harry Styles. 

She had been avoiding this moment for months. Not because she didn’t want it to happen—oh no, she had definitely wanted Harry to join her on a stream, like a thousand times—but Harry had this way of throwing himself into new situations with such confidence that it was bound to lead to some seriously chaotic results.

But her fans, their fans, had been relentless. Every single time she went live on Twitch, no matter what game she was playing—among us, fortnite, mario world—the chat exploded with one resounding request: Get Harry on the stream!

At first, she’d brush it off with a smile and a laugh, always saying something like, he’s busy in the studio, or, he’s still getting in the hang of gaming, you don’t want to see him struggling on stream, trust me. But by the time December rolled around and the UK was stuck in another lockdown, YN realized she ran out of excuses to give. It was time to bring Harry on camera.

And so, on a cold December evening, she caved.

Harry was sitting in the same room. It was originally supposed to be an office, but since YN’s online career began to take off, it slowly transformed into a streaming room. Three monitors sat on a white desk in front of a large window. The one that sat in the middle showed the view of the stream and chat, while the other two were to be used for whatever.

Harry sat on a small couch in the center of the room, his head against the arm as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash on the internet. He looked effortlessly perfect, as per usual, in his gray sweats and oversized lavender hoodie, His growing curls were clipped into a tiny bun that sat on top of his head, a pair of brown glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

The glow of the computers illuminated the room as she finished up last minute technical checks, string lights twinkling around the edge of the room for a warmer glow. YN adjusted the camera, smiling brightly as the viewers started to pile in, the chat exploding from the sight of Harry in the background. “So,” she began with a giggle, averting her eyes from the screen to her boyfriend that sat comfortably behind her. “y’ready to join us, lovey?”

He looked up from his phone, his features softening as he shut it off. His eyebrows quirked in that familiar way as he chuckled. “Oh, honey.” He sighed playfully as he stood up, ambling over to the spot behind her chair. “I was born ready.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed, tilting her head backward to catch a glance from underneath him. “Sure you were.”

He placed a quick kiss against her forehead before he sat in the chair beside her, settling in and staring at the center monitor which revealed the chat that moved in an insane quickness. He leaned over toward YN, shoulders barely touching as he waved at her camera with a wide smile.

She snorted, pushing against her boyfriend as she leaned over to point to the other monitor with a smile. “Look, baby.” She said softly, adjusting the camera that belonged to that computer before pulling up the game roblox. She gently explained to him the set up of the stream, informing him that all he had to do was sit in his space and the chat would see him just fine. 

And they would, it took YN over twenty minutes to set the stream up in a split screen sort of way, which would allow the viewers to see both YN and Harry, and their respective screens for gameplay. 

“Oh.” Harry giggled, as he scrolled throughout the roblox website randomly. His gaze shifted between his screen and the center monitor, reading out whatever messages he could since the chat moved so quickly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How hard can this be? Look at this!” He laughed, nodding toward his screen.

His girlfriend snorted, shaking her head as she pulled up the game dress to impress. “This isn’t grand theft auto or fifa, I don't think you'll magically be good at this.” She grinned as she leaned over again toward Harry, pulling up the same game on his monitor.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He chuckled as he watched the game load in, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. “I’ve got this.”

harryfan1: OMG ur kidding i literally knew it

ynfan2: no WAY LMFAO

harryfan2: HES ON 

YN couldn’t help but laugh as she read the chat aloud. “You guys are way too excited for this,” she teased. “Harry’s not that big of a deal.” 

He feigned offense as he looked into the camera with his jaw slack, a huff escaping his lips. “Absolutely bonkers.” He laughed breathily, referring to his girlfriend that sat beside him. He let his shoulders falter as he settled in a bit more, a grin spreading across his lips as the neon lobby of dress to impress loaded in.

YN’s eyes flickered between both the camera and Harry as she explained the premise of the game, smiling at his cocky eye rolls and the flood of heart emojis and keysmashes from the chat that seemed to express a collective internet scream.

“Would you like my help?” YN asked, humor lacing her words as she stared at the theme that flashed over the screen, winter wonderland.

Harry cracked his knuckles, tongue in cheek as he shook his head, darting around the game’s lobby in search for the exact outfit he envisioned. 

She laughed at him, quickly putting on a cute outfit with hair and makeup that went along perfectly. Something elegant, a cream colored warmth. Her smile grew as she glanced at the chat, then to Harry’s screen.

user3: whos gonna tell bro

user4: oh honey…

His avatar was dressed in white, baggy jeans with a puffy winter jacket that had a hawaiian pattern on it. Harry could feel her eyes on him as he placed a santa hat on his avatar for the finishing look. The skin tone of the character was still a default gray, completely bald with no face. His smile began to falter as he looked over toward his girlfriend’s screen. “How’d you do that?” He pleaded, his mouth falling into a frown as he watched the timer go down. “I’ve got no face!”

She laughed again as she showed him how to put hair and makeup on, as well as put an actual skin tone on his little avatar. She couldn’t help but ask what the hell he was envisioning for his outfit.

He grinned as he spun his avatar around the lobby. “She’s wishing for Florida.” He said, pointing toward the screen. “She’s dressed in warm clothes but the patterns show she wishes to be elsewhere.”

user5: this guy has got to stick to writing songs

When the voting started, YN’s outfit was praised by the chat and those in the server—many of whom were fans who were able to join the same lobby.

And then came Harry’s turn.

The second his avatar strut down the runway, there was a moment of lag in the chat before it quickly exploded once more. 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the camera with a snap. “Five stars or m’not releasing the third album.”

YN’s mouth fell agape as she watched Harry place first, watching her boyfriend fold his hands together and shake them in victory as he hummed the tune to as it was. (a tune his fans were completely oblivious to) which only let his smirk grow wider. 

The next theme was royalty, and YN figured this one would be easier for Harry. After all, the man was basically British royalty in his own right. Surely he could nail this one.

But once again, Harry’s choices were questionable, but of course it made complete sense to him in his own mind. 

While YN opted for a pretty gown and tiara, Harry—ever the wildcard—dressed his avatar in what could only be described as a pirate. For royalty.

She stared at his screen, dumbfounded. “H..that’s a pirate.”

“Royalty of the seas, love.” He winked, “captain Styles at your service.”

The chat went ballistic again, loving every second of Harry’s presence on screen.

user6: h pulled out the arrgh 5000s

user7: HARRY PLEASE

They played a few more rounds, with Harry’s outfits growing increasingly outlandish each time, much to the delight of the viewers. The banter between them never let up, and the stream quickly became one of YN’s most popular broadcasts ever.

As the night wore on and the final round came to an end, YN leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You guys are so spoiled.” She grinned in the direction of the camera. “I hope you enjoyed.”

Harry nodded, his smile unwavering. “And what did we learn tonight?”

“That this is why you have stylists?”

He scoffed before he muttered out a no, raising a finger like he was about to make a profound statement. “We learned that I am a roblox fashion icon in the making.” 

She burst out laughing again, and this time, she didn’t stop. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Harry was laughing alongside her, neither of them able to take the game—or themselves—too seriously. 

“Well baby, fashion icon or not.” She said, poking her boyfriend’s cheek gently. “I think we all learned this might not be your true calling.”

He gasped in mock offense, swatting her hand away and clutching his chest dramatically. “Rude. Just y’wait—next time I’ll come prepared. I’ll have a roblox fashion strategy ready t’go.” 

She smirked, titling her head in his direction. “Next time, huh?”

He paused with a smile, considering. “It was a bit of fun, but next time it needs to be guitar hero or something. I’ll wipe the floor with you on that one, gorgeous.” 

The chat immediately lit up again, the fans going wild at the thought of Harry in the streams more often than not, especially if he got to show off his musical side. Some were already throwing out more ideas for the future: 

Play minecraft!

Get this man on the sims! 

Releasing an album simulator (but irl) 

YN smiled again, clearly amused by the flood of suggestions. As the stream began to wind down, she and Harry took a few moments to read some of the comments and thank the viewers for tuning in. They said their goodbyes, waving at the camera and promised to do something like this again soon—though YN wasn’t sure if Harry had fully processed just how much the fans would hold him to that.

As she logged off, Harry stood from the chair and stretched his hand above his head with an exaggerated groan, revealing his belly button and the ferns peeking out from the hem of his sweatpants. She rolled the chair in his direction, resting her head against his waist with a content sigh. “Everyone loves you.”

He smiled, letting his hands fall onto her shoulders and rub them gently. “What can I say?” He hummed, a cocky sarcasm laced in his words. 

“You’re impossible.” She whispered against the wrinkled fabric of his hoodie, though the words held no bite. 

“Oh, please.” He laughed, “You enjoyed it, watching me flounder around.”

She shrugged innocently, tilting her head upward so her chin rested against his abdomen, their gaze fixed onto each other. Her smile was lazy as she parted her lips, “It was funny watching you struggle.” 

His breaths caused her head to jut softly back and forth as she continued to lean against him, his fingers running through her hair as he hummed. “Funny huh?” His tone was gentle, delicate, as his fingers ran down from her hair to caress her cheeks, making her shiver. “Y’think its a game to tease me, hm?”

She felt her pulse quicken, a tension settling around them that replaced the previous banter. “I wasn’t teasing.” She said, her voice softer than before, but the hint of a smile still played on her lips.

Harry took the teeniest step back as his hand fell from her cheek to her chin, gripping it ever so slightly. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, beckoning her mouth open. “No? Cause you’ve been doing it all night.” His voice was low, authoritative, and sent a rush of heat through her. He tutted toward her as he gazed down at her through his eyelashes, wanting her to part her lips a bit wider. His thumb slips into her mouth, the pad of it pressing down against her tongue.

“I think y’like pushing me.” He murmured, his breaths even and slow as he continued to hold her mouth open–which only allowed it to salivate even more. His eyes flickered from her lips to hers, a smile beginning to play upon his lips.

“What should we do about that, hm?” He cooed as he dragged his thumb away from her tongue, wetting her chin as his hand dropped to the side of her neck. Her own salvia glistened in the warm glow of the fairy lights around the room.

Her breath hitched as he bent at the waist, pressing a kiss onto her lips with his hand still cupping her neck. She melted into it, a heat pooling between her thighs as she felt his tongue against hers. His breath was cool with peppermint, his hair the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

They part slowly, strings of saliva snapping from the mutual disconnect. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he reaches him, gripping the back of his hoodie’s collar and pulling it off overhead. His chest rises and falls quicker than before as YN’s fingers lightly trace over the ink of the moth of his abdomen, the wings fluttering with every breath. His hands find hers as he pulls it toward the hem of his sweats. “Now,” He sighs heavily, watching her through half-lidded eyes, “be good f’me.”

She nodded as looped her fingers underneath both his sweats and his boxers, tugging them down in one continuing, slow motion until his cock slaps against the skin underneath his belly button. 

Her eyes find his, to which he grabs her chin once again, jerking it to face upward toward him. He leaned down as her lips parted, kissing her hungrily before pulling her bottom lip down gently. “Open.” He muttered, watching as she held her tongue out for him. She watched as his lips curled before spitting onto her tongue, saliva drooling from his lips to pool onto her tongue. 

She could feel her heartbeat in her core as he straightened back up, especially when he combed his digits through her hair and gripped as he reached the crown of her scalp. With her tongue still out, she neared the head of his cock—slick with precum already and the prettiest shade of pink. She swirled around the slit, watching through her eyelashes as his jaw clenched shut, a heavy exhale falling from his nose.

Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she enveloped the tip completely, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of him. She started off slow as she bobbed up and down his length, closing her inner cheeks around his cock with a hum. “Fuck.” He grunted, tightening his grip on her locks as he bucked his hips slightly. YN wrapped her hand around his length as her lips fell from his tip with a wet pop. She spat onto his cock, stroking him as she dipped her head down toward his balls, lapping and gently sucking the skin there, which had him tilt his head back in pleasure. Veins were more prominent in his neck as he groaned, the coil in his belly tightening. “Such a good girl.” He moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around his cock again, taking him deeper, her throat convulsing around the head that swelled with the threat of release. “Taking daddy’s cock so good.”

She hummed again, the reverberation causing his toes to curl against the carpet. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his fist, guiding her movements as moans continued to fall from his lips. She could feel him begin to twitch in her throat as she gagged on his length, his movements sloppy. She could feel his quickened breaths from the way his lower abdomen fluttered against her forehead. “M’close baby–” He grunted, loosening his grip on her hair only slightly. “W-where.?” He choked out in pleasure, his abs rippling and tensing under the glow of the fairy lights, glistening from sweat. 

She only trailed her hands up his bare thighs, gripping his hips as if to keep him in place. She wanted to taste him, to suck him of every drop entirely. 

His cock pulsed against her tongue as he thrusted once more into her throat, shooting white ropes of come into her mouth with a moan. Her head continued to bob as she swirled her tongue around him, licking every drop of his release to the sound of his whimpers–the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she parts from his cock, placing a few lazy kisses along his navel with a smile. He swallows hard, brushing strands of hair from her face with a lopsided smile. “I could get use to this.” He teases breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend shrugged his pants back up his long legs with a grin. 

She stood from her chair, pulling Harry into a kiss. His tongue brushes past her lips, his knees weak at the taste of himself mingled with her saliva. She hums against him, cupping his cheek as she parts. “Don’t get use to it, pretty boy. You still sucked.”

He laughed, his cheeks flushing a shade of pink as he shot a haphazard wink toward her. “Actually baby, that was all you.”

[willowsnook]

Expensive fight (18+)

Can i please request a lil bit of a salami and pulled pork? (Totally all good if it's just the salami one tho) and can i get that with tomato on white bread, pretty please? But also, could we make it mikes way?

lando norris x gf!reader

She isn’t you

I’d be insane not to love you

“She isn’t you,” Lando said exasperated. “I don’t understand why you’re being so insecure about this.”

“It’s fucking insulting for you even to think I am being insecure,” you snapped back at him. You two had been going at it for the past 15 minutes in your shared Monaco apartment. Lando had just gotten back from London and you were pissed about something he had said on one of Max’s streams. 

“Then what’s the issue?” He said firmly and you threw up your hands. 

“The issue is what you said on the fucking stream!” You yelled. “Now I’m being tagged in all this shit about you cheating on me.”

All season long, the internet has been speculating about Lando cheating on you with a well-known influencer. It was comical to you at first, but it got annoying fast, and Lando’s refusal to address it was starting to wear you down. Someone in the chat had asked about it, and Lando's response, “I’m not going to comment on that,” just sent the internet into a flurry. 

“I’ve told you a million times to stop looking at what the internet says,” he said, irritated. 

“You first,” you shot back, and he glared at you. Shoving past him, you stalked into your bedroom, pulling out your small carry-on suitcase. 

“What are you doing?” Lando asked, watching you pull clothes from your drawers and closet and putting them in the case. 

“Leaving. Clearly, I’m not a priority for you right now and that’s fine. So i’m going to get out of you hair for a little bit. Wouldn’t want me bitching at you to be a distraction,” you said sarcastically, and he rolled his eyes. 

“You are overreacting,” he said tightly, not moving to stop you. 

“You don’t even want to know what me overreacting would look like,” you seethed, getting into his face. 

“Fine,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing you his credit card. “I’ll let my pilot know you’re heading to the airport.”

You snatched the card out of his hand and left without another word. 

Lando was not happy about the situation but felt somewhat okay with you leaving, knowing that you had his card and that he would have eyes on you through other people he knew. It had been a rough season for your relationship. You’d been together for 5 years, but you were in the trenches this year. Lando’s stress about the WDC, the online hate, and your inability to go to as many races due to work was taking a toll. You both knew you would get through it, but it was tough right now. 

Honestly, he figured that you’d only be gone for a couple of days. He loved you for your fiery attitude but knew you were a softy at heart and was counting on you breaking first. But the weekend came and went, and you still haven’t returned. He knew you were in NYC, wincing as he saw the list of charges to his card, but he hadn’t heard a peep from you. He’d paid the hotel staff a big sum to alert him every time they saw you coming or going so that he’d at least know you were alive. 

What was kind of amusing about the situation was that fans had spotted you out and about, so now the rumors had even more fuel to them, which was exactly what you didn’t want. You wouldn’t admit that to him, though. 

Lando hopped on to stream with Max, and his friend could immediately tell he was miserable. 

“She’s not back then?” He asked cautiously, and he heard Lando sigh over the mic. 

“Nope,” Lando replied. 

“Have you talked to her?”

“Nope.”

“Yikes, man,” Max said, and Lando hummed in agreement. The chat was going crazy, with questions pouring in about y/n being in NYC, and fans now confirming that you two were beefing. 

“Let me just clear the air for everyone,” Lando said into the mic. “Y/n is the love of my life. We have been together since we were 19 and we will be together until we are 90. I have never cheated on her, and I would literally rather cut my dick off than do that.”

“Well said mate,” Max said chuckling. 

“Now everyone, please blow up her social media and beg her to talk to me again,” Lando pleaded, and Max laughed loudly. “especially because I haven’t had a real meal in days.” 

Meanwhile, you had watched the stream replay over lunch and almost gave in and bought a flight back home, especially when your phone actually started blowing up with fans begging for your forgiveness. But you had already told one of your coworkers based in NYC that you’d meet him out for dinner, so the flight would have to wait until tomorrow. 

You spent the day shopping to fill out more of your winter closet. You picked up some clothes for Lando, too, along with a new watch and cologne. You were sure that some people would probably throw a fit knowing that you were charging this all to Lando’s card, but you knew he would prefer it. He made so much money that he would have preferred you quit your job to just hang out with him 24/7, but you loved what you did. 

Putting on a new dress you had bought, you headed out to meet your coworker for dinner. He’d picked a cute little pizza place close to your hotel, and you were excited to see him. He had started around the same time as you and you’d become fast friends despite never seeing each other in person. 

The two of you talked for hours, and you posted a selfie to your Instagram story to capture the moment and slightly hoping it would piss Lando off because you were still feeling crazy. Hugging your coworker goodbye, you hailed a taxi back to your hotel. Walking through the lobby, you did a double take at a man sitting on a sofa near the elevators. 

Lando’s gaze burned into yours, taking in your new dress and how it fit on your body. He had a black duffle bag next to him that he grabbed when he saw you stop. He said nothing as his hand found your lower back, guiding you into the elevator. It stopped on the next floor up, and a lot of people piled in causing him to pull you into him aggressively. His fingers were digging into your hips and you knew he was pissed. So the picture definitely worked. 

You led him to the room and he set his bag down while you sat down on the bed, waiting for him. 

“That’s a nice dress,” he said darkly. “Is it new?”

“Yep,” you said, not backing down from his stare. 

“New earrings?”

“Yep.” 

“I’m sure that guy on your story loved them,” he said and you smirked. You had him right where you wanted him. 

“Jealous baby?” you mocked and he was in front of you in an instant, gripping your jaw hard as he forced you to look at him. 

“I should fuck this brattiness out of you,” he growled. 

“What’s stopping you?” You purred and he snapped. 

“Knees,” he demanded, pulling you off the bed. His pants and boxers were already down by the time you were ready and you smirked up at him. 

“Needy for me?” He responded by shoving himself into your mouth, groaning as he hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. His hands found the side of your head to get a better grip and he thrust in and out of your mouth with no care for how you were doing as he aimed to punish you. Tears were leaking down your face as he shoved all the way in, holding himself there until you coughed out. Gasping for air, he smirked down at you while wiping the spit that was drooling off of your chin. 

“Not so talkative now,” he cooed, and you found the energy to glare at him. He reached down to scoop you up before putting you on the bed, facing the mirror on the opposite wall. He pulled you up to your hands and knees and wrapped his hand in your hair, yanking your head back to look ahead. 

“Now you’re going to watch me fuck the attitude out of you, okay baby?”

You nodded, looking at your tear-stained face looking back at you. Normally, you would complain about him not going down on you, but the way he was acting right now had you soaking wet. 

“I need you Lando,” you whined, and he grinned at you in the mirror. 

“As you wish,” he replied before pushing all the way in and moving quickly in and out, not allowing you to adjust. His hand was still wrapped around your hair and you were having a hard time staying upright as he pounded into you. 

Lando let go of your hair and you collapsed forward, breathing heavily into the comforter on the bed. His hand found your clit and you whimpered at the sensation of that plus him moving inside of you. 

“Feel good baby?” He rasped and you whimpered in response. “My little whore, thinking she could run away from me.”

You moaned out at his words, your first orgasm quickly washing over you without warning. Lando cursed as you clenched around him and let you ride it out before pulling out. He dragged you to the other side of the bed, laying you on your back so that you could look at him. 

His dick found its way inside of you again, and you cried out, still sensitive after your climax.

“I know baby,” he whispered. “Just a little more okay?” 

You nodded lazily as he pushed all the way in, taking a much slower pace than he previously had. He started to pick it up, and you reached out to grab the back of his head and pull him down to you. His lips met yours eagerly and you moaned into his mouth, climbing closer to the edge once again. Moving your lips down to his neck, you sucked harshly, causing him to let out a soft whine. 

“I’m close,” he groaned as he drove into your hips over and over. You felt your body getting hot and knew you were about to go over the edge. 

“Cum in me, please Lan,” you begged as your back arched off the bed during your climax; he grunted into your ear, spilling into you before he collapsed on top. 

He took a few minutes to catch his breath before moving off the bed, and scooping you up in his arms, moving towards the bathroom. He gently set you down before turning on the faucet to fill the bath. 

“Are you okay?” He murmured, finally looking over at you. 

“Mmmhmm,” you replied and he smiled softly at you. 

“Come on, princess,” he urged as he got into the bath. You stepped in, sitting in front of him, your back leaning against his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you and he sighed contently as he rested his chin on your head. 

“Do you still love me?” You asked vulnerably and Lando had to hold back his laugh. 

“Of course, baby. I’d be insane not to love you,” he replied, and you turned your head to smile at him. I’m sorry about this year. It’s been hard, and I could have been doing a lot more to show you how much I love you.” 

“I forgive you Lan,” you said softly. “You’re under a lot of stress and I could be more sensitive to that.” 

He buried his head in your neck, wondering how he got so lucky to have you. Before joining you in bed, he drained the bath and put on a pair of boxers. You laid your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, tracing your skin lightly. 

“I was planning on returning tomorrow,” you admitted, and he chuckled.

“Damn, so I only had to hold out for one more day,” he said.

“You probably would have given yourself food poisoning,” you muttered, and he smiled cheekily at you. 

“I knew you watched the stream,” he boasted, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I had to after I woke up to a million Twitter mentions. You being a simp so publicly made me forgive you instantly. It's embarrassing behavior.” 

He tickled your sides, making you giggle and shift onto him. He guided your head up to his and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, moving slowly. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he whispered and you nodded before laying back down on him. 

“Me either,” you mumbled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied and you felt yourself starting to drift off. “But you have to call the bank in the morning and explain that my card wasn’t stolen.” 

[cazshmere]

Astrology Observations Pt.5

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!!

🔮 When Venus is transiting your 5th house, you tend to become more active on social media (posting pictures, TikToks, videos, etc.) and you feel like going out of your comfort zone a bit more. It's a very fun time with a lot of playful energy 🩵✨

🔮 Can we talk about how good a Cancer Mercury's memory is? THEY have that photographic memory and remember everything so vividly. Also, they are such good listeners. If you’re a yapper get yourself a cancer mercury friend cause you best believe they’d genuinely be interested in listening to you yap away haha😭. Such a good placement to have imo (esp if there are no harsh Neptune/Saturn aspects)

🔮 A question for those with prominent Sagittarius and 9th house placements: Did y’all ever just stay with your grandparents for a long time, be it on vacation or something?

🔮 Lilith square Moon natives are afraid to express their emotional needs and feel embarrassed when they do. They immediately regret being vulnerable and wish they wouldn’t have let their guard down. It’s so sad to see honestly :((, y’all deserve the tightest hugs fr 🫂

🔮 I've noticed that people with Sagittarius placements often end up being the butt of the joke. Most of the time, they laugh it off, but it does bother them. They don’t want to ruin the “vibe” by bringing this up so they end up just going along with it 🥲

🔮 Virgo men and playing the victim in situations where they are confronted in go hand in hand plus the amount of self pitying that goes on is ridiculous 💀. Every Virgo man, when at fault, will say things like, "I know I AM a burden to you," "I know you hate ME, I would hate MYSELF too," "I know I AM a loser, and I don't know how you even stayed with ME" like boi stfu😭😭😭

🔮 Mercury trine Mercury synastry could possibly indicate having similar music tastes. The type of couple who’d share earphones and just vibe to songs together 🥺🎧

🔮 Virgo women (especially Sun, Venus, and Rising) pull off the ‘no-makeup makeup’ look so effortlessly. Natural beauties right here 🥰🤩

🔮 When it comes to celebrities or idols you really like, there's definitely some 1st house/5th house/8th house or 10th house synastry involved 👀

🔮 Aries moon friends are the best type of friends to have fr, no bs and the realest ones out there. They’re extremely motivating and will definitely help in uplifting your mood no matter what. A true ride or die friend unless you piss them off 😭🤪

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

[itsjusthockey]

All I Want For Christmas - Jack Hughes

Wow guys, I’m back from the dead

Please interact because It’s fun

Do we want a Christmas series (I was gonna do one last year and then just didn’t because I don’t know)

I have other ideas brewing if this gets a lot of love

Anyway…enjoy

w.c 1,326 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

What do you get a man who has everything? Money? Check. Fame? Check. The best girlfriend in the world? Double check. Everything Jack Hughes could ever want, he had. And unfortunately for you, that makes it very difficult to buy him a Christmas present.

For the past almost three years, whenever you’ve asked about it, Jack always says the same thing: he doesn’t want anything, and not to waste your money on him. Normally, you'd be okay with that—college is expensive, and the savings you have go toward your future. But still, it’s your favorite time of year, and you want to get him something, anything, to show just how much he means to you.

To make your life easier, this year, you’ve come up with a new plan. If you can’t get an answer from Jack, you’ll go to the next best sources. Your first call is to Ellen and Jim, who kindly explain that Jack had gotten to them first and he doesn’t want anything from you but your undying love and affection. Well, he already has that, so the call is mostly a bust.

Next, you call the Captain. He laughs, telling you the same thing as the parents, and he even adds a “He’s got everything, kid. Don’t stress about it.”

Your final hope is a FaceTime with Luke. The second he answers, you beat him to the punch.

“If you say Jack just wants my love for Christmas, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Luke bursts out laughing, which you don’t find remotely funny.

“Sorry, champ,” he says, grinning wide through the screen. “I’ve got nothing. I don’t even know what I’m getting him.”

You let out a frustrated groan and bury your face in your pillow. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a gift for your boyfriend, and the days are counting down. You stay like that for a minute, until Luke calls your attention back to him.

“Stop stressing so much. You could get him a Yankee candle and he’d love it.” He pauses. “Or, hear me out, maybe you just listen to him and don’t get him anything.

Another groan escapes you, and you finally pick your head up. “That’s the thing, Luke. He always gets me the nicest things every year, and everything I get him feels... not as good.”

Luke rolls his eyes at your state. “Come on, you know he’s got the big bucks. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself to compete with him.”

You know he’s right, but it still doesn’t help. You give up on ideas for a bit and talk to Luke about whatever’s going on in his life. He’s still single, still slightly dumb, but he’s every bit still one of your best friends—much to Jack’s dismay.

“I actually do have an idea for you,” Luke says suddenly.

You sit up, eager to hear any suggestions.

“Come to Jersey for the break. Maybe the whole thing. You know that would be the only thing he’d want.”

You deflate like a ballon, a heavy weight coming in your chest. Even still, you try for a minute to work it out in your head. You’ve got your own family who expects you home, a job to manage, and grad school applications to finish. As much as you’d love to drop everything to be with Jack for a month, it just doesn’t make sense in your current situation.

Luke senses your unease like he always does and recovers. “It was just an idea. A stupid one. I forget you’ve got a lot going on.

You force a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away. You put on a facade and talk to Luke a bit longer until your stomach growls and you excuse yourself to make dinner.

You’re halfway through cooking a pasta recipe from TikTok when your phone lights up. You assume it’s Jack, and you’re proven right. You prop the phone up just enough so you’re in the frame and answer.

“Hey, J,” you say, sounding more tired than you want. “How was your day?”

“It was great, mostly. Except, I heard through the grapevine you’re trying to get me a present.”

He teases and you try to laugh, but the sound dies in your chest, and before you even know it, tears are welling up in your eyes.

“Wait—what’s going on, babe?” Jack’s voice is full of concern, and that makes you start crying even harder.

“I'm fine, J,” you manage, your voice is quieter than you like. “I’m just...overwhelmed.

Jack falls silent for a moment, and you want to hang up, but you know if you do, he’ll blow up your phone until you answer again.

“Is it... me?” He ask, and your heart cracks again.

You let out a sharp laugh. “No, Jack. Not by you—just by life.”

He nods slowly, and for a second, you can practically feel how much he wishes he could be there with you.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, his voice is so sweet and so sincere that it almost kills you.

You wipe another tear away and finally give in to what you need to ask. “You can tell me what you want for Christmas.”

This time, he laughs, and it lifts your spirits just a little.

“Fine. I want one of those journals you write in. You know, the one with the prompts. That’s all I want.”

You turn the oven off and sit down at your table, making a mental note.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to know.”

The call falls silent again, and then Jack says something that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“(Y/N)... all I want, I already have. And I’m not just saying that. The only thing that could make me happier is having you here with me. But I know you’ve got your own stuff going on, and I can’t pretend to understand it. I need you to stop stressing about me. I’m good, great even. And seeing you hurt... that’s the only thing that’s making me hurt.”

You swallow hard, wiping away another stray tear. You nod silently, but finally break just a little bit more.

“I just wish I was with you,” you finally admit.

It’s true. Every time you hear his voice, things start to smooth out, and it’s even better when you’re together. You’ve done long-distance your entire relationship, and you’re starting to get really sick of it.

“I know. But we’ll have a week together soon, and it’ll be the greatest week ever, okay?”

You nod again, a small smile tugging at your lips. You finish your food and let Jack talk about whatever he feels like, the sound of his voice settling the tightness in your chest. You talk for an hour, long after you’ve finished eating and cleaned up. Finally, when your eyes are growing heavy, Jack bids you goodnight, and you hang up the call.

After your nighttime routine, you buy the journal he asked for from one of your favorite sites, and settle down under the sheets, wishing he was on the other side of the bed. You try to fall asleep right away, but of course, you think for a while, and the weight of your life situation hits you again. Maybe it’s time for a change—something to give you more time to be with the be thing that truly makes your happiness. Before you even know it, you’re pulling out your computer again and typing. You have another Christmas present idea, and you’re sure it tops anything you could ever think to buy him.

[zouisalmightie]

.

[skzdarlings]

birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock.  He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do.  You were already jittery before the jump-scare.   

“Seungmin! Sorry!”  You put a hand over your heart.  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.”  He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile. 

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood.  You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well.  He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness.  He is reliable whenever you need a hand.    

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy.  His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag. 

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says. 

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered.  “Seungmin!  You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips.   While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out?  You’re all dressed up.” 

“Oh, um, yes.”  You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered.  You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual.  Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun.  You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night. 

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush. 

Because, yes, you like Seungmin.  A lot.  Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working.  You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it.  You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything.  His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination.  Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought.  You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all. 

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months.  You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction.  Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all. 

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet.  You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling. 

He brushes some hair out of his eyes.  They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels. 

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles.  “I like it.” 

“Oh gosh,” you say. 

It makes him laugh.  Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.” 

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say.  “I don’t even know where we’re going.  Probably just some food and stuff.  You know me.  I’m very simple.” 

“I do,” he says.  “I’d like to know you better, though.  Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time.  I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too.  His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.    

“I will,” you say, smiling so big.  “Page fifteen.  Noted.” 

“It’s a date,” he says.  “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction.  You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide. 

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling.  “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly. 

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling. 

-

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment.  You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity. 

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers. 

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you.  You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed. 

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything.  It makes your sister and friends laugh.  It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused.  Your shy character is the opposite of… this. 

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles. 

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing.  “Or, hm, an act of feminism!  It’s about equality.  We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”   

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles.  You shake your head, smiling with amusement too.  You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.  

Amusing is the best word for it, though.  None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed.  Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining. 

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you. 

“No, I don’t,” you say.  You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.   

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.” 

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head.  You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine.  There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage.  You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view. 

You promptly spit your drink everywhere.  Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you. 

Not just any dancer.  

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him.  It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely. 

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face.  Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face?   He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair.  The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck.  Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated.  He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door.  Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed.  Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets.  He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate.  Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye.  There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine. 

You are not so practiced.  Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.  The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin.  Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite.  He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin.  He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room. 

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you.  It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt.  Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action.  Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp.  Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans.  Heat fills the core of you. 

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate.  He knows he has you. 

“Oh my god,” your friend says.  “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!”  You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe.  “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.” 

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside.  Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch.  Seungmin is polite.  He does not eye-fuck. 

Except you glance over the rim of your cup.  He is still looking at you.  It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink.  It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone. 

Oh. Gosh.  He is eye-fucking you. 

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.” 

-

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light.  You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt.  You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone.  You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight.  Once on your doorstep.  Once on stage.  And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider.  He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again. 

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats.  You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct.  You melt under the intensity of his stare. 

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says. 

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence.  For some reason, it is just as tantalizing.  You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans.  But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses. 

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that. 

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.  He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent.  You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall. 

“Breathe,” he says.  “That’s not a request.”  He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them.  He does not touch you.  He does not need to.  Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks.  “Good.  All right.  So… neighbour… Should we talk?” 

You think a thousand thoughts.  Yes, a conversation.  No, your friends paid for this room.  They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly.  You want to ask when he is free for dinner.  You want to ask how long he has worked here.  You want to know him.  You really, really want to kiss him. 

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” 

He looks at you for another moment, still studious.  You swallow again.  Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean. 

“And you want to?” he asks.  “Do this sort of thing?” 

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment.  Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty. 

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him.  You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn.  He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction.  You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking. 

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little.  You look at him with wide, earnest eyes.  “Don’t we all?” 

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling.  Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says.  “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow.  He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest. 

A professional, you think.  It gets you undeniably hot.  You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him.  He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.  

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you.  He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him. 

You sit back, breathing harder already.  Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation.  You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body. 

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room. 

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”   

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh.  Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you.  He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder.  Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered.  He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat. 

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch.  It steals your breath like a real kiss would. 

“I’m going to touch you,” he says.  “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you.  Only if I like you.” 

You cannot find any witty quips to return.  He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else.  You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off.  Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning. 

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees.  Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them.  Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt.  You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more.  He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if.  He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry. 

“Oh,” is the only sound you make.   Your breathing is very loud.  It says a lot on its own. 

He is breathing a little harder too.  He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans.  He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off.  You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle. 

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says.  He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower.  His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it.  “But I think I like you, birthday girl.”  He opens another button.  “I think I can make an exception.”  He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.” 

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs.  You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements. 

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking.  You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease.  You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips.   Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face. 

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles.  You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you.  “What will you give me for it?” 

“Anything,” you say.  “You can do anything to me.  You can have all of me.” 

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases.  “By fucking your way out of them?” 

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout. 

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours.  “I am.  I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.”  He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.   

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips.  This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling.  This is all new, but he is also familiar.  You are enjoying this, him, you together.  

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders.  It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too.  He looks at you with more intensity. 

“You said I can anything?” he asks. 

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees.  He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat.  You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you.  Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh. 

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says.  “Our secret, remember?” 

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion.  You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax.  He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching.  He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves. 

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says.  “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake.  “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says.  “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me.  That’s pretty dirty.  What would everyone out there say?” 

Shocked.  They would be shocked if they even believed it.  You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago.  But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough.  You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance.  He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you.  “That just made you needier, didn’t it?  Tsk.” He sighs dramatically.  “I don’t usually offer that.  It’ll cost you.” 

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again. 

“What a bargain,” he says.  He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket.  He even seems to make a show of that.  He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath.  When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up.  He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat. 

“You know the rules,” he says.  “Hands there or I tie them up.  That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you.  He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again.  You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands.  He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt. 

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting.  He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room.  You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked.  Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin. 

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud.  He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that. 

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after.  He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you.  It is a scrutinous stare again.  You undoubtedly have questions for each other.   For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high.   “Well,” you say.  “That might have been worth page seventeen too.” 

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.  He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you.  It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago.  It leaves you as breathless as everything else. 

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.” 

[screeching-bunny]

Need more of our yan slasher,he's so pookie,i wanna bite his cheeks (in a affectionate way) and cuddle with him until the end of times,he's such a cutie 😭💗

Yandere! Slasher Pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt. 1

After reading the message sent by Yandere! Slasher, everyone subconsciously looked at you. Never in your life did you want to go home more badly than you did right now. Why did you even decide to go to a party in the first place? You don’t even like people in general! You were definitely never going out to socialize with others after this. If only there were more booze around here you really didn’t want to handle this situation semi sober.

You: “... What are you all looking at me for, they gave out a very vague description of someone. This could literally be anyone in this room with similar features to me.”

The next minute the phone screen immediately lights up with a message.

Yandere! Slasher: “I’m talking about you.”

You: “...”

After a few more seconds of silence, you finally managed to suppress the fear and uneasiness in your heart. You took the phone from the person beside you and carefully looked back at the messages that were sent by Yandere! Slasher. Finally looking down at the text box you begin to slowly type a message.

You: “Sorry, I don’t like guys with dark hair.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I can always dye it.”

You: “I don’t like your face.”

Yandere! Slasher: “There’s always plastic surgery”

You: “How do I know that you're rich? What if you’re lying and actually not broke.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I’ll buy you whatever you want right now. I can even send you my credit card information if you decide to be with me.

Damn you were broke but not broke enough to allow yourself to be with some killer. If it weren’t for your morals you would have probably folded by now.

Yandere! Slasher: “Well it’s not like you have a choice anyways. I plan on making you my spouse either way. You can either come with me willingly or I could take you by force…. Well looks like you’re taking too long. I'll decide for you.”

With that text message sent, you immediately began to feel queasy. You were struggling to keep your eyes wide open and your body was beginning to become very sluggish. Slowly but surely your senses were starting to stop and the last thing that you were able to hear were the sound of your peers screaming for help. With one last attempt to get out of your situation, you try to slowly crawl away. Only for your attempts to be interrupted when someone gently picks you up. “You’re not going anywhere cutie.” and with that you were now fully unconscious.

—

The next morning you woke up with the world’s worst hangover in the world. Never in your life did you feel this fucked up and and groggy all at once. You begin to raise up your body but soon realize that your body was tightly restricted by some rope and you were wrapped in the arms of some guy. The immediate thought in your head was that this was, last night was either the kinkiest night of your life or some random weirdo had ended up kidnapping you. Due to your movements the man next to you begins to wake up and looks over to you with a smile on his face.

“Cutie! I’m so glad you’re awake. We have so many things that we need to discuss right now! I’ve been thinking about the names of our future kids. Do you have any preferences? I don’t really mind what we name them but I want a lot of kids! Wait! I’m being so inconsiderate right now. I never even asked you if you wanted kids. If you don’t like them we can adopt as many pets as we physically can and we–”

As he was rambling it finally hit you. He was the fucking weirdo from the night before. You wanted to fucking die. Never in a million years did you think that you’d have to deal with a serial killer and an extrovert at that. Maybe if you pretended to be deaf he would stop talking to you. You begin to look at him and begin to make gestures with your head and facial expressions to signify that you were deaf. Yandere! Slasher looks at you for a few minutes before laughing.

“Sweetie, that's not going to work. I’ve been stalking you for the last couple of years. I know that you’re not deaf. Besides I’ve looked at your medical, you're perfectly healthy right now. Which reminds me, my precious little darling must be starving right now. It’s my job as your future husband to take care of you. Now wait right here for me.”

With that he leaves you entrapped alone in the room. Although your eyes were still a little blurry you were still able to make out the contents of the room. Scanning the room, your eyes fell upon a glint of metal under a desk —a discarded tool left by neglect or chance. Adrenaline surged as you inched closer, your heart racing in synchrony with your movements. With trembling fingers, you grasped the tool, the cold touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Summoning every ounce of determination, you started sawing at the ropes, each movement a blend of agony and hope. The metallic smell of blood filled your nose as the sharp edges of the tool cut into your skin. With each passing second, the knots loosened, freedom within tantalizing reach. With one last rough movement you were able to be free of your binds. As you made your way towards the window. A creak soon shatters the silence and the door swings open. Revealing your kidnapper's looming silhouette.

“Look at you all covered in blood because I left the room. Did you really think I would leave the room without any monitors watching you? I was hoping that you wouldn't try to escape but I guess I’ll have to be training you from now on cutie. Guess I’ll have to punish you right now. Do me a favor and lay down won’t you?”