#why is this becoming one of my favorites?

[togetherjournalprompts]

He saunters, if he can even really call it that, towards me. So much arrogance in his eyes because he thinks he has me beat. By all appearances, he certainly does.

I had to drag myself into a sitting position after a hit I slightly underestimated. There was blood on my brow, dripping into my eye and on my lip. I could taste the metallic tang of it mixed with the salt and minerals of my sweat. My breath came in heavy pants that made my ribs hurt. Did I break one or two of them when I hit the wall?

"You thought you could come in here," my foe began to monologue. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, I needed to keep up the pretense just a little longer. The only people I let monologue in my presence are children, and my supers. He was neither.

"On MY turf!" Oh, definitely the wrong thing to say. "In MY lair!" A lair that belonged to Professor Fate, one of my supers, no big deal, right? "And do what? Defeat me with the might of your little science tricks? You know Chemist," he said my villain name with a mocking tone I didn't particularly care for. "You've been a joke among the new villains for years. It's about time one of us sho— Why...why are you laughing?"

I couldn't help it. The bravado of this child had finally made me burst into a laugh that sounded cold, cruel, and insane. It made my ribs hurt again, but by Science! It felt so good. This joker had no idea what he was really up against.

While I sat there, cackling like no bog witch had ever cackled before, I began to manipulate the very atoms around me. Chemical compositions made as easily as a child spills water. Compounds made to help the healing process. Hormones manipulated at an atomic level to speed my metabolism so I don't overdose on the good stuff. Lactic acid processing now faster than any human could do, refreshing my muscles, allowing me to stand tall and proud once again without being out of breath.

"Oh, child. Let me give you a quick science lesson," I sneered, elongating the beginning of 'science' into a hiss. "Chemistry can generally be seen as the building blocks of the world. You and me? We're just walking, talking, organic bags of chemical reactions," I explained as if he were five. "Those 'little science tricks'," I said, performing one of the childrens' favorite. Colored sparks in the air, like tiny fireworks, in blues, greens, and reds. "That is simply concentrating the oxygen in the air and a few metals here and there, then igniting it." He didn't understand what I was beginning to imply. I could see that much in his eyes.

It was my turn to saunter, step by threatening step. I manipulated light particles away from me, making the shadows appear deeper and more menacing. He took a step backward.

"This is just child's play. Much more damaging things can be done. And you know what I've noticed?" I was mocking him now. He was sweating. Was that fear? Oh, probably not at this point. That was the atoms around him moving faster, making the air hotter.

"What's that?" He asked, trying to sound brave. A small explosion cracked by his head, causing him to flinch. Another cracked with a loud bang near his knees, forcing him to stumble backward. I could see his breathing become more difficult. But then, that's to be expected when there's an increase in pressure from forcing as much oxygen around him as I could. Surprisingly hard trick considering I had to be creative about where I was getting all of it, but this would be well worth it.

"Us powered folks, supers and villains alike," I smirked, continuing to increase the pressure, pulling oxygen out of its bonds with the water in the air, making the air around us both dry. "We're not completely indestructible." His eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a split second. I could see the increase in pressure started rupturing blood vessels in his eyes. Glorious.

"No, certainly not. From the inside," I said with a wicked smile.

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At worst, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. All fun and games until things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

[maikorian]

DIMPLES GALORE! - CLARK KENT

summary: in your defense, Clark's dimples are too adorable for you to not bite.

warning: biting? fluffy goodness cause we need more of that

authors note: I did not expect for my last fic to blow up. thank you guys so much for the support! my writers block suddenly disappears whenever I see superman content so expect to see more fics about him from me!

word count: 1.1k

The first thing you were greeted with when you opened your eyes was the light from the rising sun. Its light casting a soft orange glow in the room as it shines through the tall windows of the room. The sheer white curtains did nothing to soften its glow.

It's truly a beautiful sight. But what you saw next is better.

A sleeping giant cuddled up next to you. Clark has both arms loosely wrapped around your body. His leg tossed over yours to pull you closer. Its almost impossible to get out of his hold. At this point you're basically a bolster for him to hold and cuddle anytime he wanted.

One of the plus sides of sleeping with Clark– besides the fact that you actually get to sleep next to him – is how unbelievably warm he is. He runs hot without fail. It's heaven sent during the winter but an absolute nightmare during summer. You've had to lock yourself in the guest room so you didn't end up melting because of how hot his body is.

Thankfully, the weather is in between summer and winter. A perfect balance of the two.

Your eyes glaze over every single feature of his face. He has sharp yet soft features. It's difficult for you to describe it. He looks like a Greek god in your eyes. Curly black hair, deep blue eyes and your most favorite part, his dimples.

My god are his dimples adorable. You can't count the amount of times you've wanted to poke them. Whenever he smiles or frowns or makes any sort of expression, his dimples become more obvious. If you could, you'd spent hours admiring them.

Even when he's sleeping like this you can see his dimples. He looks so relaxed. Definitely a rare sight. There wasn't any villain or monster trying to destroy Metropolis for the hundredth time. No work deadlines that he has to finish as soon as possible. It's just you and him here.

With a little squirming, you managed to maneuver your hand over to his face. Your fingers gently tracing his face. You never press down too hard, scared as if he might break at the gentlest touch even though you knew that not even bullets could break through his skin. Maybe it's because you don't want to wake him up. Not when he looks this comfortable.

Your fingers stop at his dimples. You have to stop and stare at it for a few seconds. You knew you shouldn't. But they were just right there! You never understood why some girls liked to bite their boyfriends but now you definitely understood why. That urge to just bite down on his dimples was getting stronger the longer you let it fester in your heart.

He'd find you weird. Maybe? Maybe not? He's seen you do weirder things. It's not like you haven't bit him before. You've playfully bit his biceps and neck before. He didn't mind it. You made sure to ask by asking him over and over. You got the same answer every single time.

“I don't mind if you bite me. Its kinda cute as well.”

Those words echoed loudly in your head. As well as the words ‘do it!’. A tiny little bite won't hurt him. Shifting closer to him, you lifted yourself up so you were right where you needed to be. Your hand on his shoulder to support your body. This was one of the rare chances you were presented with. It's not everyday that you wake up before Clark.

You stared down at him with a determined expression. Darn his cute dimples for making you act this way.

“Here goes nothing…” With one swift movement, you leaned down and finally chomped down onto Clark's cheek. You weren't biting too hard, just a light one. Your teeth were barely digging into his skin. Though you were tempted to sink down a little more.

You can't believe that you were doing this but you can't help yourself anymore. He's just so cute with his dimples and everything. It didn't help that his cheeks were soft like marshmallows. Chewy like them too.

“Out of all the ways you could wake me up, this is a new one…” You stiffened up when you heard Clark's morning voice. The deep and rough one that had you melting under him instantly. When you met his gaze, Clark was staring at you with an unimpressed look. You still had your teeth on his cheek, still biting down on his dimples.

Neither of you spoke a single word but the silence already spoke a thousand words. He had this lazy smile on his face as he admired you. His hand that was on your waist moving to your lower back, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

You sneakily tried to bite down a bit harder just to mess with him, only to be met with some resistance. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Bad sunshine…” His hand shifted towards the nape of your neck and carefully pulled you back. It was like grabbing a cat by the nape of their neck. All the while you just stared at him with a pout on your lips. You looked as if you did no wrong. Completely innocent and not trying to sink your teeth into your boyfriend's dimples.

“Morning, hun’.” You innocently spoke with a grin on your face. “Did you sleep well?”

Clark rolled his eyes at you playfully. “Well I was but then a certain somebody decided to bite my cheek.” His hand loosening its hold on you and he instead brought you closer to him. You instantly buried your face into his chest. Melting at the warmth and comfort you felt under his touch.

“I was aiming for your dimples.” You murmured, your fingers poking at the dimple again. “Couldn't resist biting you.” Clark merely raised an eyebrow at your words. He wasn't surprised by this at all. He's seen the way you look at his dimples when you think he isn't looking.

“Oh really? I hope you're glad to know you were right on target.” Soft giggles slipped past your lips as Clark leaned closer. His lips peppering soft kisses all over your face. Each and every single kiss is filled with love for you. “C-Clark! I'm ticklish~” Clark didn't stop a second despite your words. He liked hearing you laugh.

“Hi ticklish, I'm Clark.” That stupid dad joke of his was met by an annoyed groan by you. “I walked right into that, didn't I?” You huffed. You should've expected this. Happy Clark also tended to be jokester Clark.

Clark simply smiled at your huffing. Cheeks puffing out like balloons. Cute, he thought. “You like my dimples that much?” He asked. “Yeah, I do. It makes you look so squishy and pretty.” You continued to stare at the dimples with a longing look. You wanted to bite him again.

“I'm not letting you bite me again.”

“I wasn't going to!”

[kentbot]

Novelty

Superman | Clark Kent x Reader

Chapter 2

a/n: Hiiii! Thank you so much for reading! I wasn't expecting all the love, but it means so much that you guys want to read my silly story! Here's chapter 2 with the iconic trioooo and no reader-chan :[ But she will be showing up next chapter, promise

word count: 1.5k

previous | next

“I can’t believe Perry’s not gonna give me the front page spread for the magazine coming out on Monday,” Jimmy moans, as he drunkenly drops his head on the bar, almost knocking over the two half-pint Coronas he���d already downed

“There there, Jimmy you’ll get 'em next time”. Lois says, trying her best attempt at soothing back rubs

“Don’t patronize him Lois, that’s mean.” Clark scolds lightly, smiling into his club soda as he also attempts to comfort his friend, “ They were great pictures Jimmy, I’m sure they’ll do great on the third page”

Jimmy turns his head to scowl at Clark, as the melodic sounds of cool jazz continues to set the mood at Bacchus, the street-side wine bar the three had settled at for the evening. The warm amber glow from the vintage Edison bulbs cast dancing shadows across the mahogany bar top, while the distant hum of Metropolis traffic mixed with the gentle clinking of glasses and muted conversations from other patrons.

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Jimmy retorts, turning to face Clark, lips drawn in a thin line. “You’re only saying that because you’re guaranteed at least second page with every article you write about Superman, golden boy”.

Lois laughs quietly, shooting Clark a knowing look while sipping on her merlot. This was the dynamic of their friendship, the duo in the trio, where only Clark and Lois knew of Clark’s very important, incredibly valuable secret, while Jimmy stayed thankfully oblivious.

If it had been up to Clark, Lois would’ve never known he was Superman, but the perceptiveness that makes her an incredible journalist also makes her an incredible snoop too. And when your coworkers constantly disappears on his lunch break while one of the world’s most powerful superheroes is handling a supervillain or giant fire-breathing monster, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together (after a shit-ton of intense probing, of course).

As if on cue, the bar TV begins playing scenes from his takedown of Gevaltron, finally releasing him to the MHCA (Meta-human Containment Agency) for proper containment. The public has mixed opinions, most of it positive, with some pushback from controversial figures. The city’s become on edge from the recent waves of villain attacks; frustration slowly bleeding into mainstream news.

“Speaking of Superman, he’s had quite the week, hasn’t he?” Lois transitions smoothly, watching Clark with keen eyes.

“Oh man, this is the worst week ever. Superman can’t keep a villain from wrecking the city without five bazillion dollars worth of property damage, AND I can’t even get first page in a magazine spread I deserved. Mercury has to be in retrograde or something”, Jimmy moans again. 

“It was actually 1 million dollars of damage,” Clark counters, adjusting his clunky, dark rimmed glasses, “and I think people are overreacting quite a bit. I mean, shouldn’t we be happy that Superman’s priority is civilians?”

“Yes Clark, civilians' safety should be the main priority, but property damage has to be a priority too”, Lois replies, staring Clark down for emphasis. “If y-Superman continues like this, he’s gonna keep getting scathing critiques from public opinion.”

“Scathing critiques?” Clark questions, blue eyes leaving the glass in his hand to follow Lois’ tense movements

“Perry let me read the submission from the new journalist before we left for drinks" she says cautiously, fiddling with her wine glass. “it was extremely well written and honest. I see why we’re stealing her from the Gazette.”

She takes another sip, steeling herself to deliver the final blow to Clark’s ego. “Frankly, she didn’t have many good things to say about our favorite Superhero. She mentioned other supes too, but it was mostly focused on Superman and her professionally disguised vitriol.”

“Yeah, man, it was pretty bad, it’s gonna be a hoot if the Chief lets her release it next week”, Jimmy adds, unknowingly adding salt to the open wound. 

“Perry let you read it too?” Feeling a bit betrayed, Clark sinks into the seat a little more, the chair creaking with his weight

“Yeah, right before he told me I was being demoted to the third page”, Jimmy says sadly, quickly downing the rest of his third Corona.

Clark scoffs, running a hand through his unruly curls and ignoring Jimmy’s comment, “Journalists are always going to have some opinion about Superman and his choices. He’s never going to make everyone happy.”

“Yeah, but if the trend of increased attacks continues like we’ve seen these past few weeks, there’s gonna be a lot more destruction.”, Jimmy remarks astutely. “Gevaltron, Amazo, Livewire.” He lists a few names, trying to shake himself from his alcohol induced stupor, “especially if Superman doesn’t clean up his act.”

Clark's face scrunches, “I’m taking my encouragement from earlier back”, mostly joking as he leans back in his bar chair.

Jimmy laughs a bit, turning to look at his friend, “Why do you even care so much, Clark? It’s not like they’re criticizing you.”

“I don’t,” Clark says quickly, crossing his large arms defensively, “I just…” Clark fumbles for a bit, trying to find the words, “….care a lot about journalistic integrity”

Lois snorts, finishing off her wine glass, “Ok, Clark, just don’t kill the new hire when Perry introduces her next week.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, Lo,”. Clark smiles, digging out his wallet to pay for the soda.

“I hope she’s hot, Clark, do you think she’ll be hot?” Jimmy says as he drapes himself dramatically over Clark, almost sending himself tumbling out of his chair.

“Okay, big guy, let's get you home”, Clark recovers, looping Jimmy’s arm around his neck to support him.

Lois sighs as she moves to grab her purse and Jimmy’s phone, slipping the device into the inebriated man’s back pocket as they walk out of the bar. “You’re definitely gonna regret this tomorrow ,Olsen.”

Jimmy looks back on Clark’s shoulder, sending his friend a drunken grin and wiggling his bushy eyebrows. “Thank God it’s Friday then.”

Clark laughs softly, repeating Jimmy’s “Thank God it’s Friday”, grateful for the reprieve of work and a (hopeful) break from the constant onslaught of villain attacks.

Lois shakes her head in mirth, enjoying the crisp fall evening breeze as the two men in front of her chant "TGIF" in step down Bakerline Avenue. The neon signs of late-night diners and 24-hour newsstands cast colorful reflections on the wet pavement, while the familiar silhouette of the Daily Planet building loomed in the distance, its iconic globe barely visible through the Metropolis skyline.

────────────────────

There are only two things Lex Luthor hates more than the dank stench of the LexCorp basement laboratory: poor people and Superman. In that order, specifically, though he definitely hates the latter a little bit more.

The hum of the machines usually tended to put Lex at ease, but now it was just grating on his already frayed nerves. 

Gevaltron had finally been put into MCHA custody by that demon in a cape, forcing him to enact the next stage of his project, as he begins to hire stronger, more well-known villains for Phase 3 of Project Genesis.

No matter, he was here for one thing and one thing only, and if he didn’t get it, then the sniveling excuse of a man that he considered his head scientist would be quickly disposed of and replaced.

Lex walks into his lab confidently, a man on a mission. He stalks behind the older man, who is sitting at the main console, scaring him half out of his wits.

“Have you recovered the specimen?”.

“Yes Sir!” the scientist stumbles out, unwilling to piss off his boss more than he already had in the past week.

The air stunk of failure and setback, but Lex had no plans of stopping Genesis when he was so close to the apex of success. He could taste it on his tongue, the breakthrough that would allow him to finally achieve his life’s purpose.

He’d sunk billions into the project already- orchestrating constant villain attacks, and drawing outrage to distract from his underlying purpose- only to lose months of progress to an avoidable tech malfunction. He’d wanted to kill the old geezer right where he stood, but settled for killing the useless lab techs instead.

It wasn’t his first time manufacturing outrage to spite the super-powered brute, but this time it was different. This plan was concrete and airtight. It had to work.

“There can be no more mistakes”. Lex says, eyes boring into the glass holding chamber, contents obscured by murky green liquid. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, sir”. The man scurries off quickly, taking the sample obtained from today’s attack to be broken down and resequenced.

At the rate things were going, the project was set to be completed within the next three months, just in time for Christmas. He just hoped Luthor wouldn't get sick of him and kill him before then.

────────────────────

a/n: RAHHH find me on ao3 at the same user :) and follow and comment to be added to taglist :)

taglist: @diasnohibng, @secretkittydreamland

[maplleaf]

MIND FRIED

hsr men hcs + drabble HSR Men (Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Caelus, Sunday, Boothill) when you're burnt out from work or hobbies Tags: comfort Note: Haha... if you're asking where the ratio fic pt2 is or any kind of my writing, this is why I've been away.

Oh.

It's that feeling again.

Your hand halts in the middle of working for fun. The thing you used to enjoy and spend time doing becoming such a drag, but you wanted it. You wanted to continue, but an ache in you prevented you from even moving.

It all just feels tiresome.

You can't even explain why, it's just something you know you love but just couldn't do it anymore. But you need to do it, or else did the years' efforts just go to waste?

DR. RATIO

Veritas has a strict balance that he will always follow, meant to make sure he gets enough rest, entertainment, and work done for a period amount of time.

Unfortunately, you aren't as disciplined as him.

Usually when you get carried away in projects, work or not, he would be the one who scolds you to take a break. Even with some stubborness, he wouldn't let you fall into foolishness and forsake your own health

It's a surprise of his own that he didn't warn you sooner, and as a partner he placed some blame onto himself.

Veritas would scold you while you're still trying to regain that spark again.

"Take a break."

His voice cuts like a knife, or a chalk thrown at kilometers per second.

You look up to the man, his face held that usual sharpness and aloofness but you could spot his eyes furrowing as it gazed right back at you.

He had been eye-ing you for awhile, and the progress from awhile ago to now hadn't been much. He could even count the speed of your decline in effectiveness within a few seconds. That fact made him more displeased, not at your lack of progress but at your insistence to keep working.

You smiled back at him, "Not yet. I've barely done anything."

The lecturer's eyes tightened, he pulled you back as you tried to go back to your work. "Don't be a fool," he sighed, "Have you ever seen great works from someone who forces themselves to do it? A passionless result isn't the optimal one."

He quickly spun you around away from your activity, placing a wall between you and it. "Now come on, before your head turn into a pile of mush. The bath is getting lukewarm."

Who are you to deny that offer?

AVENTURINE / KAKAVASHA

Well, he's also not the healthiest per se.

Aventurine's identity is his work but also his weapon and protection. It's not the easiest task to balance with his personal life, but he knows when to take a recreational break once in a while.

He's persuasive, rich, and handsome. Of course he uses it to his advantage.

The type to suddenly offer your favorite meals when you're about to combust from an activity.

He wouldn't be direct about it either. Only smiling and playing innocent as you jokingly confront him about pulling you away.

"My treasure~"

Aventurine sat in your shared space, his voice as smooth as butter and full of intent as the devil about to make a deal.

He had been watchinf you for awhile now, and he could spot the hints of a burnout from miles away. He knew you love what you're doing, and seeing your lack in enjoyment from doing it made him worried. He himself hardly has things he actually enjoy, and he didn't want you to lose your spark.

You had to resist the urge to turn, knowing he already had something in hand. Only giving a noncommital humm.

His mouth formed into a small pout as he heard the response, or lack thereof. You were right, on the bed is a handful of your favorite treats and objects, even pulled one of his catcakes into the battlefield.

Out of verbal options, he walked over behind you.

You felt a shudder as his arm wrapped around you from behind. Aventurine placing his chin on your shoulder as he sighed.

"The bed is so empty...it's been so long since we had time off with eachother and I'm left all alone~"

You clicked your tongue at him, "you're doing this on purpose."

...but seeing as you stood up from your desk, he won anyway. The catcake seems happy too at least.

SUNDAY [post-penacony]

Oh, bird was the definition of unhealthy balance.

For Sunday in the past, he had no balance. He flaunts and say that work-life balance is important, but he barely spared time to properly enjoy something back then.

Which is why now, he doesn't want you to make the same mistakes he did. Yes, he is still learning and the lack of actual work needed in the express is why he doesn't overwork himself anymore. But still!

Sunday loves that you have something you enjoy and find passion in, always the bird singing behind you with each progress you make.

He knows you still love it, but an internal struggle prevented you from enjoying it the same way you used to. His heart ached each time he sees that passion slowly feign away.

He wouldn't be blunt, but not indirect either. He would gently offer you a break time with him. Depending on your state at the time, he would coax you into taking a break.

"Perhaps, it's time to rest, my dove? I prepared a soft brew for us."

He placed his hand on your shoulder, a soft smile on his lips as he observed your reaction. Tired eyes that blinks slowly, sluggish posture, alongside the hand that seems to fiddle with each finger everytime. Sunday couldn't help but feel pity.

You smiled back at him, "I'll join you after this, Sunday."

The halovian opened his mouth, before hesitating. Clearly, he didn't seem happy at all that you rejected him. But, he had this lingering fear inside him. That you'll think he's being controlling.

A quick glance at your state made all thoughts perish, replaced with genuine concern.

"Rest days are incredibly important, my dear. I'm concerned your lack of one would bring... misfortune later on," Sunday gripped his book in front of him, his wings fluttering for a moment as he spoke with a gentle tone. If you lock eyes with him, maybe you can spot the way his hesitation slowly showed again.

Seeing him like this, do you want to say no?

CAELUS

Freak silly.

Caelus is allergic to job applications, the only unhealthy balance he has is the time spent playing games on his phone and messing around the location he's at.

BUT

He's also sweetheart silly.

He realizes you were burnt out pretty quickly from how you seem so tired. He already knew something was wrong when you didn't smile or mess with him while doing your thing.

As the express' number one trash king! He concludes that you need to take a long big break, preferably with him on his bed, curled up together.

He thinks it's a crime of the universe for you to be sad, so he made a plan. Initiate plan MakeMySigmaTakeABreak!

You felt your eyes hurt even more, your mind fried from how much it hurts to do something that used to feel like a breeze. Unbeknownst to you, a raccoon behind you is preparing the ultimate takedown plan.

STEP ONE: Talk to them

Caelus peeked his head, placing it on your own. "Watchu'doin?"

"The usual," you replied, but too tired to even touch or acknowledge his existence aside from replying. Ah, he felt his heart aching. Caelus glanced at the window in front of you two, reflecting your tired gaze and slightly pissed off glare.

Usually he would find it hot, but you're not okay! So he went ahead to step two.

STEP TWO: PHYSICAL TOUCH

Caelus nuzzled your hair a few times, trying to gain your attention to no avail. Finally, he resorts to wrapping his arm around you from behind.

"Hey, let's go play craftmine. You've been sitting here since this morning," he offered, already sure you weren't gonna deny him.

As you heard his pleas, it sounded more like a sad puppy's whines. Though looking at the progress you've made, or lack thereof, does look unpleasant.

"Just hold on, Cae--" you were cut off as you breathed in his jacket, getting hit with a familiar pungent smell. "...Did you go through trash again?"

"..."

Caelus is now sitting in the bathub thinking of a way to make instant perfume that get rids of trash smells. He aggressively tapped his phone, losing track of time as he played his game. After being met with a grey screen of defeat, a text notification came up.

'Get out, let's put our beds next to eachother'

A man has never sprinted out of the room barely dressed so fast before.

BOOTHILL

He doesn't seperate work-life, but not in an unhealthy way.

As a galaxy ranger and already wanted by the IPC, Boothill's life is always going to be tangled by conflicts from his 'work'. But he doesn't hate it, in fact it makes it easier to hunt down certain people. Besides, he's always been a carefree person.

He's also perceptive, and could spot your deteriorating energy quickly. He's not the type to wait until he's sure either.

Straightforward guy, he doesn't see why he should dilly dally around the bush about it. If you're stubborn he would carry you off himself.

"Sugar, get yer' toot out of that chair. It's been fudging hours."

Boothill called out while leaning on your desk, trying to lock eyes with you. He held a bag of bullets in hand, chewing on it while trying to pry you out of the space you glued yourself onto.

"Can't, I barely got anything done," your reply was dismissive, not even looking up at him as you leaned on your own hand. The man beside you grumbled for a few times, but he never really left.

Within the next few minutes, he closely observed you. The way your eyes are heavy, how you don't even seem happy anymore; it all culminated into one action.

In the middle of working you felt your body suddenly being hoisted up from your chair and onto his shoulder, dropping anything on your lap and hands onto the floor.

"If ya' can't do it yerself, I'm taking it to my hands, sweetheart," He proclaimed. You couldn't even pry yourself off him, knowing the metal body would barely budge. Consumed by your own tiredness, you had no option but to succumb into his arms.

[formulafanfics13]

Katerina Horner is Mercedes' new chief strategy engineer.Who is she?Christian Horner's daughter, who drunkenly applied to work for Mercedes and Toto offered her the job for a large sum of money.Lewis thinks recruiting Katerina isn't a good idea for the team, and that makes him hate her, and Katerina does the same to him.But Toto has fallen in love with her, and she with him, so Lewis will have to put up with her.One shot set in 2023.We can start with a drunken Katherine arriving at Toto's loft in Monaco with her letter, a red dress that leaves little to the imagination, and Toto can't help but sit her on the sofa, on top of him, so he can feed on her breasts. Because Toto Wolff has dreamed of having those breasts in his mouth for many years, and now he's got them.Toto is not married and has no children. He is the padook's favorite bachelor, but without a woman to confirm a romance.

Redbull Royalty with a Mercedes Crown - Toto Wolff 🔥

Masterlist

summary: she’s red bull royalty. he’s mercedes’ crown. a drunken job application becomes the scandal of the season when katerina horner shows up at toto wolff’s monaco loft in a dress that screams trouble and a letter that smells of betrayal. she’s there to seduce. he’s there to destroy. but somewhere between her thighs and his teeth, they both lose. warnings: age gap, power imbalance, drunk reader (consensual but explicit), oral (f receiving), breast worship, fingering, face sitting, dom!toto, confident reader, filthy language, enemies to lovers energy, red dress chaos, mercedes/red bull tension, implied f1 politics, breast kink, tension with lewis, reader is unhinged, toto is obsessed

Toto Wolff did not believe in chaos. He believed in strategy, silence, and calculated power.

Which is exactly why Katerina Horner, red dress, stilettos, tits spilling out, eyes lined in warpaint, should not be in his fucking penthouse.

And yet. There she was. Drunk. Dangerous. And clutching a folded letter in one manicured hand like it was the contract to her soul.

“You’re drunk,” he said, arms crossed, voice low.

She grinned, stepping closer on legs that shouldn’t be that steady. “And you’re still single. Shall we cancel each other out?”

His mouth twitched. “That’s not how it works.”

Katerina laughed, high and wicked, and shoved the envelope against his chest. “I applied.”

Toto didn’t move. “To what?”

“Mercedes,” she whispered. “Chief strategy. Full package. You get me, my brain, my war against Daddy. But only if you play nice.”

His brow arched. “This is a joke.”

She shrugged. “Probably.”

He opened the letter anyway. Neatly formatted. Flawless CV. Oxford, MIT, Red Bull secrets wrapped in glittery irony.

And at the bottom: Sincerely, Katerina Horner. PS: I look good in silver.

Toto should have told her to leave. Should have laughed in her face. Should have reminded her that no amount of family drama or drunken seduction could buy a place in his team.

But her dress was red like sin. Her perfume was leather and fire. And her tits, good God, her tits were barely contained by a neckline that had clearly been designed to provoke.

“Why are you here?” he asked softly, dangerously.

Katerina smiled like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. “Because I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like to ruin you.”

And that was it.

Toto stepped forward, hands on her waist, dragging her flush against him. “You think you can?”

“I think I already have.”

He sat on the edge of the leather sofa, pulled her into his lap like he’d been planning it for years, and yanked the straps of her dress down so fast she gasped.

“No bra,” he muttered.

“No mercy,” she replied.

Her breasts spilled out into his hands, warm and full and maddening. He palmed them, thumbs brushing her nipples until she whimpered, then leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth like he needed it to breathe.

Katerina arched, head falling back. “Fuck, Toto-”

He bit gently. “You wanted this?”

“Yes.”

“You want this job?”

“Only if I get to sit here every day.”

Toto laughed, low and ragged. “You’re going to destroy me.”

She ground against his thigh. “Not before you ruin me first.”

And he did. He dragged her dress up around her waist, found her slick with nothing beneath, and slipped two thick fingers inside her while his mouth never left her chest. She was soaking, whimpering, riding his hand with sharp gasps and filthy curses. Her lipstick smeared against his cheek, her nails dug into his suit, and her voice went high and breathless as she shattered in his arms. He didn’t let her stop.

He laid her back across the couch, dragged her legs over his shoulders, and made her cum again with his mouth between her thighs, devouring her like she was the only strategy he’d ever believe in.

Later, when she was limp and shaking and laughing like she’d just detonated a warhead, he tucked her against his chest and whispered, “You’ve got the job.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not worried about what Lewis will say?”

Toto smiled into her hair. “He’ll learn to like you.”

No one had to know that he already did. Too much. Too fast. Just like her.

[h3art4p3ps1]

FOREVER

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚ zayne x fem!reader

summary: you're at a work holiday party with your childhood friend, and boss, Zayne Li. as you spend the night together with drinks in hand, uncovered feelings rise to the surface.

₊˚⊹♡ tags: zayne x fem!reader, yearning, banter, drinking, tension, praising, fingering, orgasm denial, p in v, angst, zayne's love letter to you, tipsy sex, porn with plot

word count: 4.7k

₊˚⊹♡ a/n: this might be my favorite one that I've written. I based some parts/lines from absolute zeal (in bold) and some of his secret times. am I getting better at writing smut? who knows. smut is hard but zayne is harder. Enjoy!

Love isn't something anyone can truly describe. It moved in unpredictable ways, like a wave of nostalgia hitting you at a sound, sight, or feeling. It spreads across your skin like a chill, but it’s not uninvited. Love is warmth, something vaguely familiar. But it only becomes something you know when it’s ignited. 

It was humming beneath your skin for ages now, sometimes crawling at the surface to be set free. But you both quelled the feeling for as long as you’ve felt it because as sweet love was, it had a tendency to bring pain. So you both pushed it down further on the lonelier days and allowed its presence to grace the surface when you two were feeling a little destructive. 

Much like tonight. 

It was the annual hospital Christmas party, something you looked forward to five years ago when you first started in the cardiology department. Or better yet, when you met him. 

Now, you only showed up for the free food and drinks that offered a more than welcomed buzz after a long week. You dressed up every time because why not? Any excuse to take off your scrubs with questionable stains on them and put on something nice was a reward, so you dressed yourself in a dark green number that definitely did not resemble his eyes.

You stood at the bar, drink in hand as a co-worker you hardly knew talked your ear off about a new policy they were implementing within the department. But your mind wasn’t there, not even on your drink that would have been way overpriced had you chosen to spend your evening elsewhere. It wasn’t paying mind to the low hum of Christmas songs, the decadent display of appetizers and pastries, or the sensual lights strung around the space. No, it was stuck on the man—the head of your department— as he spoke with colleagues of his own.

He carried himself with a quiet assuredness. He was always calculated and precise, mistakes rare if not impossible for him to make. You’d always admired his work ethic. The countless amount of lives he’s saved, how he cares so deeply for each patient. The more than handsome paycheck he received. 

The list goes on. 

He nursed a glass of one of the set drinks on tonight’s menu in his hand, the other reaching up to the bridge of his glasses. He pushed them up and it should be a crime to make that look so good. Navy colored suit tailored perfectly to his frame that he somehow managed with 12 to 24 hour shifts, black hair falling effortlessly on his forehead, and his usual firm expression on his face.

He was perfect in ways most men dreamed of. 

You took another sip of your drink, breathing into the glass. Your eyes averted back to the woman across from you, now going on about… her pet lizard?

You give her a polite nod and take another sip. All you had to do was stay for another hour and wait for the tree lighting.

But as you turned back to continue your silent ogling, your eyes met his green ones. The glass fell from your lips as you set it back onto the counter. His gaze told you one very clear thing: “Save me.”

You giggle softly to yourself before walking over to him. His eyes followed your every move as he took another sip of his drink. He peered at you over the rim as the dark liquid hid his small smile. You were stunning. 

Finally approaching him and his group, you rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Dr. Li, could I bother you for a quick second? I wanted to talk about the proposal I mentioned earlier this week.” 

Your touch warmed the skin underneath his suit, giving rise to something else beneath the surface. He set his drink down and nodded.

“Of course,” he replied, following your lead to a more secluded area of the room. 

Your back now against the wall, you look up at him and smile. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t… the best conversation.”

“So pretty bad.” You chuckle and he follows suit.

“Yes, it was bad.” His voice brought a wave of peace over you as he spoke, nearly sobering you from the drinks you had tonight.

Speaking of, you thought.

“Why were you drinking tonight? You hardly ever.” 

He ponders your question before answering. “It seemed fitting this evening.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but before you could question it, he spoke first.

“What about you?” he questioned. “I’ve never seen you drink as much before. You’ll kill your liver at this rate.”

You roll your eyes at his remark. “I drink when the occasion calls for it.” You cross your arms across your chest in defense. 

“My liver is fine, but it appreciates your concert, doctor.”

The smile on his face fades at the emphasis on the name, but he’s not entirely upset at the label. You’re not sure what exactly is on his face right now, but just like everything with Zayne, he’s impossible to read. You brush it off.“We’ve known each other long enough for you not to be upset when I tease you, Zayne. Don’t tell me you’re upset, it’s literally what you are.” You uncross your arms and place your hands on your hips, a challenging glint in your eyes.

“I never said I was upset.” A step closer. “And I never said I didn’t like it,” he said closer this time, his hand itching to reach down to your face and cup you in his palm. But he couldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to. You were essentially his employee and with his standing, if anything were to happen between you two… He didn’t want to picture it. 

But each moment that passed between you two, he contemplated risking it. 

“Yea, okay, Zayne. I’ll take your word for it.” You give him a playful wink, silently wishing for another drink. But he didn’t back away. He stayed in front of you with his hands lazily placed in his pockets, studying you. He did that so often and you weren’t even sure why. Was a hair out of place? Something in your teeth? Were you doing something wrong that he’d give you the courtesy of pointing out to you when you two were alone? You never questioned it and now was no different. You simply looked at him right back, challenging him. Waiting to see who would look away first. 

You’d lost more times than you’d like to admit, but you were a kid back then. Now, you were slightly less agreeable, but you wanted to be. For him. Almost everything you did was for him, his attention. It was selfish, pointless even. But who were you to care when you’d gotten so tired of trying to escape these feelings for him? 

“Something wrong?” 

“You tell me, Zayne,” you replied a lot breathier than you wanted. 

The fully lit tree was gorgeous. The warmth of the lights pooled around the room and reflected off the plethora of glasses littering the tables. But his eyes were stuck on how your gaze held the light so intimately. How the excitement glittering in your eyes rivaled the twinkle of the lights captivated him. He wanted to be the light that made your face brighten. He wanted to brush his thumb against your lips when you smiled to somehow transfer your expression to him. He wanted to hold you between his hands and cherish every inch of you. To put it plainly, he needed you in ways he’d never be able to describe. For years he felt like this, this warmth simmering beneath his skin begging to spread to his heart. And lately he let it. He let it spread rampant like an incurable disease.

But he didn’t want to cure it. He wanted to love you freely, fully. 

“You’re not even looking at the lights,” you said playfully. But he didn’t spare a glance at the tree. He instead kept his gaze on what mattered most to him. 

“You…”, he replied, letting his thoughts escape him.

“What?” You laughed. “Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.” You reach up, rubbing a gentle thumb across his flushed cheeks, and giggled. 

His hand moved to ghost over yours and the laugh died in your throat. You looked up at his skin basked in the warm light, mouth slightly ajar. It was barely there; you didn’t even feel him. But you were all too aware of how he moved around you. How lately, he’d been closer than normal. It was strange for Zayne Li, but you welcomed it all the same.

He finally grabbed your hand and placed it to your side, his fingers lingering too long for comfort. 

“I think you’re right. I should go home.” He nodded finally. He started to turn but you grabbed his wrist. He looked down at your hand touching him like it pained him. 

“I really hate to ask you this–”

“Anything,” he replied all too quickly. 

“Could I catch a ride with you? My place is on the way. If not it’s–”

“Of course.”

You followed him closely as you two left the space and made your way to the parking garage, the whole time thinking about possibilities that will never see the light. 

The ride to your apartment was quiet but not uncomfortable. That’s usually how it went between you and Zayne. You both had a lot to say but bringing those things to the surface would unleash another world of problems that you didn’t want to deal with. 

But maybe actually talking it through would save you from the heartache that already exists within you. 

What if he doesn’t feel the same? It’s not like he makes it obvious if he does…, you think. You rest your head on the headrest and sigh. You turn your head to look out the window and watch as snow lightly falls around the city. Lights from busy company buildings have changed to red and green, children run between their parents, laughing without a care in the world, and time just seems to slow down around you. You watch as the flakes gracefully land on the window, the warmth of it turning it back into liquid. You follow the path it takes down the glass before his voice interjects. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m fine. Why?”

“That was the fifth time you sighed.”

“So you’ve been counting? Glad to know you care, doctor,” you tease.

“I always care,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

“Always.” His voice was softer now, but his grip on the wheel tightened. 

“We’re almost there. Then you can get some rest.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not tired, Zayne.”

“Aren’t you drunk?” he asked seriously. 

“No,” you said chuckling. “If anything you’re drunk and shouldn’t be at the wheel.” You turned in your seat to face him. 

“Plus you’re a dead giveaway.”

“What do you mean?”

For the second time tonight you reach out and poke his cheek. 

“You’re all red.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“It’s not from the alcohol," he said finally, rendering you speechless.

You drop your hand and place it back on your lap. A sigh escapes your lips. 

“Sixth time tonight.”

“Oh shut up,” you mutter, warmth creeping up your neck now. 

“It’s not from the alcohol.” Then what could it be from? It couldn’t be you because… well why would it be? Zayne wasn’t the kind of guy to just say anything, but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to avoid the truth. Growing up, he was always telling the truth. So much to the point where you’d have to beg him to not tell your grandmother when you did something you and him both knew you shouldn’t have. And each time without fail, he wouldn’t, but not without scolding you himself. Either way, you could never escape his truth. 

Or this pesky feeling for him.

So if–if– for some mysterious reason you were the culprit for the flush on his cheeks, why wouldn’t he say anything?

Why don’t I say anything?

You knew it wasn’t that easy. But oh how you wish it was. 

He pulled up in front of your building and killed the engine. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door. You hesitated. 

“You know,” he looked over at you and adjusted his glasses, “You can come up if you want.”

He looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“Okay…” you drawled out. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you also don’t have to give me that look–”

“I’ll come up.”

He undid his seatbelt and got out of the car.

“Okay, Mr. Eager,” you mumbled sarcastically and followed suit. Once out of the car, the sudden wind from the growing snow storm made you shudder. 

“Coming outside without a jacket wasn’t a good idea,” he stated, shrugging his suit jacket off his shoulders. He walked behind you and placed it on your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he whispered in your ear.

This time you shuddered but not because of the dropping temperature. He was close in more ways than one. His hands lingered on your shoulders, his scent on the jacket, his body right behind you.

It was overwhelming. Consuming. And you wanted more. 

He moved to the front of you and gripped the jacket tighter around your body, dragging you closer to him. You look up to him, the expression in your eyes unmistakable. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

He went into your building like he was the one who lived there, and a part of you wished he did. You two reached the elevators and rode up to your floor in silence. But it wasn’t as warm as in the car. It was imposed with something else that you wanted desperately to dissect. 

You fumbled for the keys to your place before opening the door and shuffling your shoes and his jacket off. Zayne followed your lead as you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses of water for you both. 

“Since you think I’m so drunk,” you muttered into the glass as he chuckled, taking a seat on the stool by the counter. 

“Fine, you’re right.” He brought the glass to his lips.

“Exactly,” you replied proudly. You finished the water and set the glass in the sink before taking a set next to him. 

“What are these?”

You followed his line of sight to the box of chocolates on the island and laughed.

“Just a gift from Tara.” You grabbed the box and opened it. “It’s chocolate with a… twist.”

“A ‘twist’?” he asked. 

“It has alcohol in it.” He gave you a look. 

“I promise it’s not bad. The amount in it is small.” You unwrapped a piece and took a bite. He watched intently how your lips wrapped around the chocolate, how your tongue darted out to wipe the excess around your mouth, how your mouth formed the words, “You want to try?”

He shifted in his seat, cock straining against his pants, and nodded.

You brought the half-bitten piece to his lips and he hesitated. You looked down at his lips waiting for them to part, waiting for the invitation. He instead looked at you, your now flushed cheeks, the way you were just waiting for him to take the chocolate into his mouth. 

He leaned forward. 

His lips met the chocolate, but that’s not what forced the air into your lungs. No, it was his lips brushing your fingers, a damn near kiss. But it wasn’t. 

His eyes peered at you over his glasses, heated and heavy. The genial green of his eyes morphed into something darker as he dragged his lips away from your fingers, but he didn’t lean away. He chewed the chocolate before releasing a soft cough.

“Not much alcohol?” he questioned softly.

You giggled in response and reached for another. But his hand stopped yours.

“You shouldn’t. We’ve both been drinking and we shouldn’t go overboard.” You sighed. Seventh time, you thought and laughed internally. 

“You know Zayne, a lot of doctors know how to have,” you poked his chest before adding, “fun.” 

He wrapped his fingers around yours, keeping it in place. 

“A lot of those doctors aren’t that good at their job. You aren’t one of them.” Your breath hitched. 

“I appreciate that. Seriously.” You try to remove your finger from his grasp, but he’s quicker. He holds you tighter and pulls you in. 

“I never say things I don’t mean.”

“What, are you trying to suffocate my finger?” you offer weakly, trying to avoid whatever this was between you two. You felt it the whole night, this charge. It was electric. And one wrong move… 

It would be catastrophic. 

But he doesn’t reply. He looks at you–studies you. Just like he did earlier, just like he’s done for your entire relationship. But here, with this stuck between you two, lingering—festering, you had enough.

“Okay what is that?”

It came out sharper than you wanted, but you meant it nonetheless. He dropped your finger in response and bashfully looked away. 

“And you know what I’m talking about, Zayne.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

The first time you’ve heard Zayne stutter. Your pent up confusion and frustration nearly cracks. 

“I think you do,” you say, softer this time. 

He takes a breath and closes his eyes, like he needs to collect his thoughts.

He is so unlike himself tonight, you think. 

“I used to think being rational was indispensable… Perhaps it could be considered the pinnacle of everything.”

A moment passed between you two.

“And now?” you ask.

“Now… It’s not that important anymore.”

Your mind momentarily freezes at his words, but he continues. 

“I admire you deeply,” he says. 

“So you stare at things you admire?” you tease to alleviate the tension. 

“You could say so.” He pauses. “But if I’m being honest, simple admiration doesn’t begin to cover it.

“I’m infatuated with you.” He says it like it’s a well-known fact that even you knew. But you didn’t.

“Did this just come out of nowhere? Or are you just drunk?” You pan. 

“My level of sobriety has nothing to do with how I feel at this moment. Or how I’ve felt for you for years.”

He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. 

“How you make me feel.”

Your eyes soften, but your heart hammers in your chest. You attempt to swallow the feeling but it proves pointless. You look at him, then to where your hands lay. He brushes the pad of his thumb on the back of your hand, the movement a gentle caress. 

“Zayne–”

“This could ruin a lot of things. I’ve thought it over so many times in my head.” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the flesh. 

“But I can’t seem to bring myself to care anymore,” he mumbles on your skin. 

I might die right here. 

“But our careers, our friendship…”

“Both expendable.”

A light gasp escapes your throat. “Zayne, your career isn’t something to just throw away for—”

“For you,” he finishes. “My career won’t be ruined over this. Neither will yours. I’ll make sure of it.” A small smile graces his face. A promise.

You release a shaky breath as he trails his kisses further up your arm, your arms soon breaking out in goosebumps. He leaned in closer to your body, his other hand finding its place on your hips like it belonged there. 

His lips made their way to your collarbone and nipped on the skin there. You gasped and he squeezed your hip tighter. You craned your neck back and he understood completely. He moved up to your neck, kissing, licking, sucking at the skin. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you tugged him closer. But it wasn’t enough.

“I want you closer…” 

He leaned away from you to look at you how he does.

‘I’m infatuated with you.’

The words resounded in your head like a never-ending echo.

You didn’t want it to end. Want this to end. 

He placed his other hand on your hip and lifted you gracefully from your seat to his lap. Your arms circled around his neck as he made quick work of continuing his actions on your neck. One hand rested on the nape of your neck, the other on the small of your back, pushing you into him.

“All night I’ve been like this.” He nipped harder this time. “You were so distracting.” 

He rutted up into you and a moan fell from your lips. His head spun from the sound you made.

“That dress, the look in your eyes, the nickname, the chocolate… It was all on purpose wasn’t it?”

Something between a laugh and a moan exited your lips. “You’re blaming me for you being a lightweight?” Your hips met his as your dress bunched at your hips. You felt everything and you felt him. And the two weren’t mutually exclusive. 

“Possibly,” he teased back. He pulled away from you to admire the work he’d done to your neck, before tightening his grip on your hips and picking you up. He walked you both to your bedroom, knowing the layout completely from numerous trips to your place. He sets you on your feet before invading your space, engulfing your face with his hands and kissing you like it was the only thing on his mind for ages.

And it was.

You stumble backwards, but he catches you. He splays a hand on your desk right as you begin to unbutton his shirt. He shrugs it off, throwing it somewhere in your room. You take in the sight that is Zayne Li and heat settles in your belly. 

Hot and respectful, you say internally. 

Your lips meet his again in a torrid rush of desire. Your tongue invades his mouth, earning you a soft groan from him. His hand wraps around your neck and pulls you into him closer. You explore each other like two people who are unfamiliar, but you were so far from unfamiliar. You knew almost everything about him, save for the hunger pooling in and around him. 

You reach up to take off his glasses, but he beats you to it. He takes them off and tosses them far away from you two. You were the only thing he needed to see. 

He reaches behind you and unzips your dress with a sensual slowness. You feel the cool touch of his fingertips follow the path of the zipper and shudder. The straps of your dress naturally fall off your shoulders, and the fabric pools at your feet soon after. 

“You’re perfect.”

He lifted you so you were sitting on the desk, legs spread wide to accommodate him. His hands find purchase on the inside of your thighs, and you buck your hips up for more. Anything. 

“Please…” 

“Say my name.” 

You look into his eyes with reckless abandon. 

“Please, Zayne.”

“Good girl,” he praises. 

His fingers move to slide your panties down your legs, the sight of your glistening arousal nearly making him cum in his pants. He releases a shaky groan before pressing a thumb to your hardened clit. Your body jerks in response, hips grinding against him. 

“F-Feels good,” you thoughtlessly mumble. 

“Yeah?” You nod your head and he presses harder. 

“Zayne!” you yelp. 

He smiles at your reaction as he circles your clit with slow movements. He watches your face contort in pleasure; eyes screwed shut, mouth ajar, brows furrowed, head thrown back. It felt so good; Him in between your thighs as you dripped onto your desk and made a mess on your thighs. 

His middle finger toyed with your sticky entrance before pushing the pad in. 

“Look at me.”

His other hand wrapped gently around your neck as he brought you into him. 

“I won’t repeat myself,” he said when your eyes remained closed. You opened them and were met with a Zayne you’d never seen.

He was so vulnerable with you, yet so in control of the situation. And you. 

You whimpered. 

“Do you want a finger?” You nodded eagerly.  

“Use your words.”

“Y-Yes,” you say.

He complies, pushing a lithe finger into your leaking entrance. You squeeze around him immediately, drawing him in further. He pumps his finger in and out of you so slowly.

“For years I’ve wanted to do this.” He presses down on your clit again and you nearly scream. 

“I’ve only imagined what this would be like.” He curled his finger inside of you, this time you did scream. He rubbed that gummy spot inside of you repeatedly, looking at you like you were it. Like you were all he needed. 

“You feel amazing around me,” he praised. 

“Want another… Please?” 

He pushes his index finger into your cunt and pumps faster, building and tightening the knot inside of you. Your cunt spasms around him, your breathing picking up. 

“Are you close?” You nod your head but he squeezes your neck. 

“Words, My Love.”

My Love. You got impossibly closer.

“I’m close.” He pumps faster, his wrist coated in your arousal. But as soon as you reach the edge, he stops. He removes his fingers and spreads your wetness on your bare pussy, the lewd sound filling your ears. 

“The first time I make you come will be around my cock, love.” 

Your body shook with the heightened need to cum as you moved to undo his belt. He allowed you to, but stopped before you could pull his pants down. He instead picked you up again, carrying you to the bed.

He was going to fuck you properly. 

You watched as he pulled his pants and underwear off. Watched as his pre cum beaded on his flushed, glistening tip. Watched as it rolled down his shaft to the base. Watched as he pumped himself, eyes locked onto your frame.

He planted his knees on the bed and moved in between your legs. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re beautiful.” He lined the head of his cock with your entrance. You hissed. He pushed only the tip in.

“You’re everything.” He pushed in another few inches, and the stretch was apparent. Your eyes screwed shut, focusing on both the pain of trying to fit around him, but the pleasure of how he filled you perfectly. He grasped your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re mine.” He pushed to the hilt, his hips meeting yours. He stayed there and brought his lips to yours. It was slow this time, but the need between the both of you never dissipated. 

 He pulled out until his tip kissed your entrance before thrusting back into you with a reverent force. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he picked up the pace and kissed you senseless. Your mouth hung open in a silent cry when he kissed and sucked the area right below your ear. 

“Let me hear you.”

Your whimpers, moans, and screams filled the room as he moved within you, loving and cherishing every part of your body. He whispered a litany of praises in your ear as his pace picked up, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix beautifully. 

He moved in and out of you like he was made for it, like he was praising your body. He loved you like no other has or ever could. And you squeezed around him like call and response. You would always answer; he’d never stop calling.

He took hold of your ankles and brought your legs around his shoulders, the new position and his unrelenting pace making your vision blur. You were so high on him. You were so close. 

“Cum,” he ordered, placing gentle kisses on your ankle. 

And as you were brought closer and closer, it unknowingly slipped from your lips.

“I love you, Zayne.”

He pulled you into him, one hand wrapped around your middle and the other smoothing your hair. You were already fast asleep, both of you cleaned up and quickly fading. He nuzzled your neck and breathed you in. 

“I love you too.” A kiss.

“Forever.”

[sdmnpact]

I Can't Stand You.

George Clarke x Reader smut

** MDNI 18+**

[] enemies to lovers type deal

~~~

The cold London air hit your skin sending a shiver down your spine. You regret not bringing a jacket but if you did bring a jacket you wouldn't be able to show off your beautiful dress.

The strappy thing that hugged you in all the right places. Regardless of how you felt that day, this dress was like magic and made you look amazing. Eyes lingered on you all night, admiring how insanely stunning you looked. This certainly helped with the night you've had.

You were standing outside of the still quite crowded pub waiting for your Uber. It's been a night and you were tired. Liv who you had originally planned on having a girls night with brought along Bach who brought along Arthur who brought Hill, Chris, and George.

George Clarke. You hated the man. His cocky attitude, the arrogance he portrays, the little quips he makes at your expense. You don't know if you ever did something to him to make him dislike you but now you despise eachother.

You told Liv this and she told Bach who completely ignored this and gave him the green light to come. You love Bach but his forgetfulness is not your favorite thing sbout him.

Although you tried to have a good night despite George's loud presence, you still ended up as the butt of his jokes. Drink after drink didn't help either. Drinking wasn't enough, you couldn't stand it anymore and decided to leave early.

You thought about George's mannerisms for quite a while as you stood there. When he gets drunk with others, he gets quiet and calm but when you're there, it's like he becomes a different person, getting rowdier by the second.

The sound of the doors opening pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned around to see the blue eyed, curly headed jerk. You turned back towards the street rolling your eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hey Y/n? Going home already? Was the dress too tight for you?" He replied, eyeing your body. You scoffed, brushing off his comment. "Im just tired." You lied, the annoyance evident in your voice.

"You know, you're ruining the night." He said. His voice deep as he took a step closer to you. "Im ruining the night? You've been acting like a dickhead this entire time!" You exclaimed, biting your tongue at your words. You never meant to tell him how much of a jerk he is but your words just slipped out.

"Im not a dickhead, if anything, it's you! You're always in such bad spirits, you never want to have fun, you keep to yourself!"

"Maybe it's because everytime I speak, you make a joke out of it, out of me! Everything I say or do! You should see when you're not around, how much fun I have. It's you! You're the reason I have no fun!" You exclaimed, turning towards him, getting in his face. The tension between you rising as he took another step closer to you.

"Well maybe I can't help it! Maybe it's you! Always saying the weirdest things, always being your goofy self! Maybe if you stopped being so cringe I would stop." Your jaw clenched at his words. Your face red with anger.

"How is that my problem!? No one even invited you here, you just come along whenever we go out always ruining the mood." You responded.

"Someone needs to be the fun one in the group." He scoffed.

"You're always such a jerk, I don't even know why!" You exclaimed.

"Have you ever thought it's because I like you?" Your eyes went wide, your heart beating faster, the anger softening as you tried to comprehend what he actually said.

"You like me?" Your voice quivered, unsure if he was serious or if this was just another rouse.

"Yes Y/n, I fucking like you, you fucking bitch. I like how weird you are, I like how funny and cute you are. You always look hot as fuck. You know how hard it is not being able to grab you and kiss you!?" He said, his words filled with annoyance as if it bothered him, telling you this.

"Well, well- well being a dickhead wasn't the way to go about these things!" You stuttered, trying to focus on his attitude towards you rather than the sudden confession he was making.

"I know! But you know how shit I am with girls, how the hell was I suppose to tell you?" He admitted.

"I dont know, maybe just talking! Telling me nicely instead of making fun of me every five seconds!" You spewed, ready to be done with this conversation. His words clouded your thoughts, making you smile at his true feelings towards you. You quickly pulled yourself out of it, checking your phone to see your Uber still 2 minutes out.

"Okay, listen, I'm sorry. I still don't know why I said those things, I don't know why I act this way!" He pleaded, his eyes resembling those of puppies. You almost melted at the sight but held your ground.

"I dont want to hear it, George, just leave me alone." He got closer to your face once again only this time, he was inches from your lips.

"Can I make this up to you?" His voice was deep and raspy, making you shiver at his change of tone. He finger trailed up your arm to your shoulder, brushing some hair back. His eyes glimmered under the light, a dark intensity to them as his breathing slowed down.

"I can't stand you." You said, your voice low and frail, trying to keep yourself under control. He chuckled, before cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer, closing the gap between you. His soft lips moving against yours. The friction between you, now the same drive making you pull at his shirt, grabbing him tightly, wanting more of him. His hand, snaking around your waist, trailing towards your backside. Grabbing your ass, trying to feel every inch of you. You smiled into the kiss, letting his tongue in.

The kiss now a makeout session filled with desire and lust coming to an abrupt end as a car pulled up in front of you. The driver lowered his windows, asking your name. You confirmed and looked towards George, nodding towards the car. "Wanna go to mine?" You asked, pulling on the hem of his shirt.

He immediately followed your lead into the silver Toyota. The driver started his way towards your flat. You looked over to George to see his eyes already on you. His hand on your knee slowly inching towards your inner thigh. His fingers slowly trailed closer to your heat. Your short dress giving him plenty of access to you.

Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed across your heat slowly through your panties. Your focus on his face as he stared at you, hunger in his eyes. You grabbed his hand, pulling away but he insisted. He teased you all the way towards your flat. His fingers running circles around your throbbing heat through the fabric, making your legs feel weak.

You hoped the driver didn't notice but you couldn't focus on anything but George. As you pulled up to the building, George quickly removed his hand, reaching for the door.

He wanted you as bad as you wanted him and couldn't wait any longer.

He quickly pulled you out of the car, thanking the driver for the ride. His hand gripped yours tightly as you made your way in. Every second of the lift ride feeling like torture. His hand never leaving yours, his foot impatiently tapping as if he's been waiting for hours.

He desperately wanted to grabbed your face and shove his tongue down your throat but restrained himself until you got to your flat.

The second you unlocked the door, George pushed you in, slamming the door behind him. His hands cupped your cheeks once again, this time with more force. His lips slammed onto yours, you were taken aback at first but quickly melted into the kiss. You grabbed his shirt, desperately wishing it was off. He smirked at you, quickly breaking the kiss to pull it off revealing his sculpted figure.

He picked you up and took you towards the couch, throwing you on it roughly. He got on his knees in front of you, pushing your legs open making your dress roll up. "Take it off." He growled as you quickly slipped off your dress leaving you in your panties and pasties. You peeled them off leaving your breast exposed as he slowly pulled off your underwear.

He gave you no time to adjust become his tongue made it's way to your heat. You jumped at the feeling, his warm tongue trailing across your lips. His eyes looking up at you as you leaned back, feeling the ecstasy of his touch immediately.

He smirked to himself before he continued, slipping his tongue between your folds, gently sucking at them. You released a loud moan at the sensation, reaching for his hair, pulling at his curly locks, wanting him fully inside you.

His tongue swirled around your pulsating heat, your creamy juices already starting to puddle around his face as you couldn't stop yourself.

The sound of him sucking and slurping at you only made you hungrier for him. His hands gripping at your thighs, pulling himself in deeper as you continued to suffocate him between your legs, the pleasure welling up in your stomach. The racing of your heart and flutter in your stomach making you feel overwhelmed. Unable to hold yourself back, you released more of yourself into his mouth.

His motions only getting rougher and faster by the second as you squeezed your eyes closed struggling to keep yourself together at the intense feeling. "George." You breathed out quickly, reaching for his wrist, squeezing it tightly. Grunts and moans came from your mouth as you reached climax as his tongue flicked against your g spot.

Your back arched as he slowed his pace, his tongue finishing it's job, cleaning you up.

He pulled away from your sweaty body, his lips glistening with your juices all over them. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid back, watching him removed his pants. "I hope you can still take my dick." He chuckled seeing your clit red and pulsating. He pulled them off followed but his briefs leaving his fully erect penis exposed for you to gawk at.

He came closer, grabbing his member, rubbing it slowly in front of you. "Can you handle this?" His voice softening at the sight of you exasperated by the intense pressure of being eaten out. You looked up at him, licking your lips only making him harder for you. You slowly nodded your head, bringing a smile to his lips.

He carefully held your legs open with one hand as the other guided his member into your throbbing heat. Slowly, he inserted himself into you making you shudder at the feeling of his thick, veiny cock entering your tight hole.

His eyes never leaving yours, as he slowly pushed himself in deeper, you winced at the pressure making him stop. "Are you sure?" He asked.

You put your hands on his shoulders bringing him closer to your face. "Yes." You replied back softly. After hearing your words, he rammed into as softly as he could. Your hands on his back as he began thrusting in and out.

Your fingers dug into his skin as he held your hips, your sopping heat closing in around his member as he continued thrusting. His grunts filled the room as your soft moans matched.

Slowly he built up speed, gripping your hips tighter, digging his nails into your thighs. You gripped at his back as the intense pressure of pleasure came back. Your soft moans turning into loud screams as he quickened his pace. The beautiful sound of skin slapping together becoming louder. The beads of sweat running down both of your faces as your bodies became hot and tired.

His hips moving against yours rhythmically as if you were two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. Your legs trembled, feeling yourself reach your high as he was close himself.

Pumping in and out of you a few more times, his movements now sloppy as you released yourself over his member. George following suit seconds later. His thrusting coming to an abrupt stop as he released inside of you.

He stayed inside you for a couple seconds trying to regain his breath as you did the same. He pulled back to look at you. The sweat making his hair soaking wet making him look ridiculously handsome. His blue eyes, now tired but still looking into yours lovingly.

He looked at you, admiring your beautiful state. Sweaty and tired, you still looked incredible to him. He couldn't believe he could finally see you like this, finally be able to make you happy and satisfy you.

He pulled out, leaving you missing his touch. You closed your legs, still breathing heavily as he took a seat beside you. The sound of panting filling the room as he reached for your hand, rubbing circles into the top of it.

"Does this makeup for it?" He asked turning to look towards you. You quickly snapped your hands back.

"I'll think you owe me much more." You replied teasingly.

"I mean I'll eat you out everyday if I have to." He responded, a cocky little smile on his face.

"Hmm, I'll think about it."

~~~

Taglist ♡ @pretendyoucantseeme @whisperturnedecho @sundarksposts @needf0rspeed @jakevwebber

[colonelkaboom]

Under the wings of a dragon

Twenty years after a deadly fire plagued your village, leaving you orphaned and permanently scared, you find yourself playing with fire once more. Back then you were an innocent victim, now you are a willing participant.

AN: This started out as a little poem (since when do I write poems?), inspired by Sylus, that I wrote when I realized how much I missed writing fantasy. Then my imagination decided a poem wasn't enough...

✦ Read on ao3 ✦ Sylus x Reader ✦ Word count: 6.5 k ✦ Fantasy AU setting ✦ Dragon Sylus, death of parent, suicidal ideation, survivors guilt, fire, angst, grief, mention of blood, comfort, strangers to friends to lovers

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find…” Your little voice eagerly begins before taking a moment to think. “Anchovies!” 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find anchovies and… ” Tara joins in. “ … Beetroot.”

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find anchovies, beetroot and carrots!” Simone quips happily before poking your side, urging you to continue the game.

“Are you playing a game or planning dinner?” Your mother jokingly asks, poking her head out the kitchen window.

“No, no! Please don’t make me eat anchovies again, they’re gross!” You exclaim pushing onto your tippy toes in front of her with a quivering bottom lip. You’re too short to reach her, so you clutch the windowsill to maintain balance. Making sure your mother never loses sight of your pleading eyes. 

“I’m only joking, little one. Why don’t you walk your friends home, dinner should be ready when you get back.” Your mother smiles before stirring something in a large pot. It smells delicious.

The three of you skip along the narrow cobbled streets, jumping over potted plants and stray cats. 

Stars and moonlight flood the little village as night slowly descends upon it. But you are not afraid. After bidding Tara and Simone farewell you begin the short journey back home.

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find dumb little girls losing their mind.” A cruel voice whispers behind you.

“Leave me alone.” You know who it is. A boy only a few years older than yourself whose favorite pastime is scaring the younger children. 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find emaciated peasants who won’t have any food after the dragon burns their storage.” He hisses, clearly proud of his own words.

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find feeble boys who think they’re being clever.” You bravely spit at him. “I hope he turns you into charcoal.”

Then you run. You can easily beat him with your words, but should he choose to initiate physical violence you’d be dragon fodder in no time. 

“Are you alright, little one?” Your mother questions when her little girl returns home flushed and breathless.

“I ran really, really fast.” The boy is not mentioned in any conversation the little family engages in throughout the rest of the evening. He doesn’t deserve the attention.

“Good night, little one.” A gentle touch dances over your cheek. The kind of touch only the love of a mother can provide. 

Tightly bundled up in the finest blankets and pillows, you feel the need for sleep quickly overcome you.

“Will you tell me a story, mother?” You ask through a yawn. 

“Which one do you want to hear?” There is no need to ask, she knows that her daughter always requests the same story.

“The one about the dragon of course!” 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find forces of evil that torture and bind. Treasures of gold and jewels to feed the insatiable sin of a dragon's greed.” Her voice slowly becomes more and more haunting as you listen intently. “Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find black magic that curse and bewitch the mind. Crystals and gems to quench his desire hidden away by the forces of fire.”

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find the stench of a beast so foul and unkind…” Her calming voice slowly fades away as you drift into the darkness of a peaceful slumber.

A loud shriek jolts you awake before your mother bursts in through the door. Then you smell it, smoke. Next you feel the warmth surrounding you. 

Smoke and warmth you can handle, but the sensation that follows, that’s a different story. Pain. Immense pain surrounds your little legs slowly melting away under the flames licking your tiny body. 

You scream and cry for your mothers help as she’s ripping the blankets away from you. There is barely any time to think, your thoughts are clouded by pain and smoke covers your eyes.

“I love you. I love you, little one.” Your mother cries before you suddenly find yourself falling from your window. 

The canal flowing behind your house catches you and soothes the sting the flames left behind. The water is cool and welcoming, but also threatening and consuming. So you swim, up up up, until the ashy air reaches your lungs once more. The flames are everywhere, everything on the left side of the canal seems to have been engulfed by the unforgiving fire. 

You can barely tell which house is yours due to all the destruction, and your mother is nowhere to be found. Suddenly everything is quiet apart from the ringing in your ears slowly robbing you of your senses. Where is she? 

Your body goes limp in the water, unwilling to face the possibility that your mother did not make it out in time. The water was claiming you, and you wanted it to. Claim me, take me away from here, faster. Let me be with my mother once more. A male voice calls your name, but you’re too far gone. There was no point fighting, not if you’d have to do so without your mother by your side.

Two decades ago Tara’s father had plucked your drained body from the water. Two decades ago, your mother died. Swallowed by the flames, along with so many others in your village. 

Some claimed the fire was a sign from the Gods, punishing you for not adhering to their strict way of life. They claimed the Gods had conjured a dragon to punish you for giving in to greed, lust and desire. Commanding him to burn everyone who had given in to sin. 

Those claims angered you, even as a child. Your mother was no sinner, and the fire had claimed lives of children younger than yourself. How would they have had time to commit sins that made them unworthy of life? 

As a child you might have believed their claim that a dragon was to blame, if they hadn’t tried to convince you that the dragon was being controlled by some higher power. No one could control a dragon, you were sure of it. They were wild beasts who only lived for themselves. Masters of their own life. 

As an adult, you had come to the conclusion that dragons are a myth and the fire was purely accidental. A truly tragic accident that robbed you of all you had. There were no lasting signs of the flames lingering in the village, but you were constantly reminded of the horrors every time you took your clothes off to sleep or bathe. Angry purple and red marks decorated your left leg starting at your ankle moving all the way up your shin before feathering out above the knee. The damaged skin remains a mix of painfully tender and uncomfortably numb.

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find grapes!” 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find a heart!” 

“Dragons don’t have hearts, silly! Pick something else!” 

The three little girls reminded you of yourself, Tara and Simone. Although twenty years had passed, children still favored the same games the three of you had played all those years ago. 

You wandered further and further away from the village in order to complete your mission. The sweetest berries in the entire forest, and they were all yours. No one else dared go this deep into the forest in fear of the wildlife. You were not scared, nothing scared you anymore. Nothing but fire. 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find… Imagination” You mutter to yourself as you take in the beauty of the forest around you. The lake shimmers softly in the setting sun. Burning orange and red tones soon consume the whole forest, including you.

You’re not afraid. The colors of a sunset are still enjoyable, even if they share certain similarities with the flames that took your mother. 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find, jealousy… Joy?” You ponder for a moment before settling on a more appropriate answer. “Judgement."

After picking a few berries you find a comfortable spot to sit. You lean back, relaxing against a large tree and enjoy the scene in front of you. 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find, keepsakes” You smile to yourself, proud to have come up with such a fitting term for a hoarding dragon. 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find…” Something beginning with ‘L’. Unable to think of anything, you look around for inspiration.

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find ladies disturbing his peace of mind.” A deep gravely voice echoes, bouncing off the surrounding trees and mountains. 

Where was the voice coming from? Who was watching you? The sound of a rumbling laughter brings you to your feet, scattering the precious berries you were cradling in your skirts.

For the first time in two decades you felt afraid, even if only for a moment. Something other than fire had thoroughly spooked you. 

“Where are you?” Fuck, your voice made you sound as scared as you felt. It made you sound weak.

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find terrified maidens for the dragon to bind.”

Reluctantly you look up into the tree you had been resting against, surprised to see a man standing on a thick branch. His arms are crossed over his chest, yet he’s leaning forward without falling down. Predator and prey.

“Is that why you’re here?” He asks as he gracefully leaps from the branch, landing in front of you. “Are you a gift for me to take? A shiny new addition to my beloved hoard of treasures?”

He’s terrifyingly tall with ruby eyes and silver hair. He looks like he’s strong enough to break your neck with one arm if he wishes. His body is partially covered in some strange type of armour in a material you don’t recognize. Red markings emerge from a large red gem in the center of his chest. You can’t help yourself, you have to stare. If your mother had gotten to live longer, she might have had time to teach you that staring was rude. 

You attempt to control your curiosity but as your eyes wander back up his body, with the intention of meeting his, they instead land on horns peeking out from the silver locks. Don’t touch them, don’t touch them, don’t touch them.

“If you try to touch my horns I will smite you.” The sudden sternness of his voice quickly brought your eyes properly back down to his. You could have sworn his right eye took on an even brighter shade of red. 

“You’ll smite me?” You can’t help but question his odd choice of threat. 

“Yes. Do you need me to define the term?” You shake your head and take a careful step backwards. 

“Where are you going? I thought you were my new treasure?” For each step you take away from him, he follows. His long strides quickly closing the distance between you.

A few more shaky steps backwards and suddenly the ground disappears under your feet. A slippery root? A round pebble? Who knows. You’re falling. Until you’re not. Something caught you.

“Watch your step, kitten.”

Your heart is pounding and your shaky breath is not helping calm you down. Something cold and solid is curled underneath your back and cradles your neck. What is it? What is he? It moves and you instinctively grab it until your feet are firmly back on the ground. Once again you find yourself staring at him, at his tail, as it retracts to hide behind his back.

“Did your mother not teach you that it’s rude to stare?” The fact that he’s calling you out should have been enough to pull your gaze away, but you were stuck in a trancelike state taking in the man in front of you and all his additional limbs. 

“No, she didn’t. She died before I got the message.” You’re shocked by the lack of emotion in your voice, but you’re slowly becoming convinced that nothing can make you stop looking at this man. “Are those wings?”

A frustrated grumble and annoyed eyeroll tell you that he’s tired of your antics. 

“Are you satisfied with your inspection?” He asks, obviously teasing you for your wandering gaze.

“No, I’d like to be a bit more thorough if you don’t mind.” Where was this sudden confidence coming from? 

“Where is your survival instinct, kitten? You shouldn’t be so trusting of strangers.”

“I’ve never seen anyone like you. Not in books, not in art, nowhere. What are you?”

“I’m a predator. You should show me some respect and be frightened.” The look on his face carried a hint of amusement, like he was just as curious about you as you were about him. 

A subtle smile played on your lips, and it seemed like it was there to stay. Out of the corner of your eye you saw it; he was smiling too. Discrete, hidden, but a smile nonetheless. In fact, you couldn’t stop smiling as you circled each other. Taking the time to study his movements, as he studied yours.  

“Are you going to tell me what you are?” You ask, daring to take a step closer. What you initially thought was armour looks like rough scales fused to his skin. Like they’ve always been a part of him. 

“Are you going to tell me why you’re not afraid of me anymore?”

“You caught me when I fell.”

“I caught you with my tail, does it not scare you?” 

“You were scarier when I thought you were just a man, now I see that you’re so much more.”

“You’re certainly one of the more interesting humans I’ve encountered.” He chuckled again, although this time it sounded far less intimidating than earlier. This one felt more real.

“The known is boring. If you were just a man, I’d know exactly how you’d kill me. I have no idea what you’re capable of.”

Something in him shifted. A look of pure disgust crept up in place of the charming smile. 

“Do you have some sort of death wish?” Slightly shocked by his words, you take a moment to consider them. 

“No! What kind of question is that?”

He closes the space between you and wraps his tail around your body, locking your arms to your sides. Then a sharp claw drags up the column of your throat. You don’t even know why you did it, but you angle your chin higher to give him easier access.

“I’ve rendered you completely defenseless, yet your pulse has barely risen. You seem more excited than worried. Why is that?” He grabs your chin forcing your eyes to meet his as he demands an answer.

“I don’t know.”

“If you’re so eager for me to end your life, why are you lying? What’s the point of secrets if you’ll be dead within the hour?”

“Shut up!” He lets you go, but the disapproving look on his face remains locked on yours. 

“I have no say in how you live or die, kitten. But one thing I know for certain is that when you die it will not be by my hand. If death is what you desire you’ve come to the wrong dragon.”

“Dragon?”

“Part dragon, but a dragon nonetheless.” He says as he takes a deep bow. “Nice to meet you.”

“Do you have a name?” You question. 

“Perhaps.”

“Can I hear it?”

“Do you really want to know?” You firmly nod in response. “Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”

“Find me again, then I’ll tell you more.” Large black wings unfold and lift him into the air. “Stay safe, kitten.”

Your eyes stay fixed on him until he’s nothing but a black dot disappearing into the quickly darkening sunset. A dragon. Part dragon, but a dragon nonetheless. 

The sky is completely dark by the time you get back home. For a long time you contemplated trying to follow him. Follow the dragon. Run as fast as you can in the same direction you saw him fly off to. There was no chance you’d ever be able to catch up to him.

Instead you spent the whole walk home mulling over his words. You didn’t have a death wish, you were just tired. Drained and empty after enduring twenty years of a life that was so different from what you imagined it would be. 

From what you had read about dragons, you knew they feasted on greed. And this part dragon you encountered seemed to indulge in the same sins. He’d turned himself into a carrot, dangling himself in front of your face to keep you moving. Your human desire to feed your curiosity had given him an in. How could you resist the temptation?

The burning sky accompanied you into the forest once more and you returned to the same tree where he found you. There was no way of knowing if he’d be here today, but you were greedy enough to wait. 

The berries you had dropped during your first encounter lay scattered on the ground in front of you. Dried up and far less appealing than their usually plump form. And then you waited.

You waited and waited until the sky shifted from orange to purple before rising to your feet. Darkness was looming, and if you were ever to learn the dragon's name, you could not stay in the forest and tempt the wildlife further. 

Did he lie? He had asked you to find him again, but not specified how to do so. What else could he have wanted you to do, other than return to where you’d met him first? 

The next day, you repeat the process once more. At the same time, when the sky burns orange. The same place, under the tree where the scattered berries now lay blackened like little lumps of charcoal. Anger was stirring deep inside you at his deceit. You had trusted his word, assumed they held some value. Obviously that was a mistake.

Yet on the third day, you find yourself impatiently returning to the forest once more. A part of you began wondering if you had imagined the whole encounter. That he was no more than a figment of your imagination. A demon from your childhood. In spite of that, you still lingered way longer than you should have. Resting against the same tree trunk, your heavy eyelids slowly shut.  

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find nightmares.” A dark voice whispers in your ear. You only smile at the welcome intrusion. “Your turn, kitten.”

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find oblivescence. You seem to have forgotten about me these last few days.” You turn to face him unable to hide your satisfied smirk. He finally showed up.

“It’s late, why are you still here? I’m not the only beast lingering in these forests at night.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Oh, kitten, I’m flattered.”

“You asked me to come.” 

“No, I asked you to find me, not to wait for me. There’s a difference.” He teases.

“Well, if you wanted me to do all the work, then why are you here now? I clearly haven’t been able to follow your instructions.”

“I got impatient.”

“I see, I guess humans aren’t the only ones who lead lives driven by desire.”

“Are you saying I’m desiring you, kitten? What qualities do you possess that will somehow tempt a dragon?”

“You tell me.”

There is a moment of complete stillness. The only disturbance being your breaths mingling and the faint, consistent grumble from deep within the dragon. 

“I find you intriguing. You seem to care so little for your own life, yet at the sight of my tail and wings…” The dragon settles on the ground facing you and his tail slowly slithers over your thighs before resting at your waist. There is no possession or demand in its grip, it feels more like it’s there to offer comfort. “... It was like something changed. It wasn’t fear, disgust or anger. No… You were curious, excited. Mezmerized. It brought you back here again and again, even when you couldn’t find me.” 

“You knew I was here?” You ask, a slight annoyance to your tone. If he knew you were here, why did he not show himself?

“I watched. I’ll admit I was also curious. I wanted to see how many evenings you’d spend under this tree before you’d give up.”

“You gave in before I did. A human bested the mighty dragon.” It’s your turn to tease, you’ve got the upper hand. “I would have been back tomorrow, if I hadn’t seen you tonight. Yet, you approached me, interrupting my peaceful slumber.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to return tomorrow if you had been mauled by a bear whilst you slept. But don’t worry, kitten, you’re safe with me. I might not be the only beast in the forest, but I am the most frightening.”

“Then I don’t see why me falling asleep out here was ever an issue.” He seems to be at a loss for words, utterly surprised by your assessment.  

“What a bold statement, would you like me to be scarier? Do you wish I lived up to whatever horrifying descriptions of dragons you’ve grown accustomed to hearing?”

“No, I’m glad you don’t honestly.” You admit, thinking back to all the gruesome depictions of dragons you had come across through stories and artwork. 

“I’d love to hear your reasons.” He tilts his head ready to listen.

“It’s like I said the other day; If you were just a man, I could have read you like a book. Likewise if you were just a beast, there would be no unanswered questions.” 

Such honest words, from a human no less. Spoken with clarity and confidence. He could listen to you talk for hours. Knowing that how you view and describe the world would be far superior to any story or poem carelessly jotted down by someone with far less sincerity. 

“I get to discover you without someone else’s impressions to cloud my own judgement. You can still surprise me. You’re something new.”

“What do you desire, kitten?” The feeling of his gaze on yours was indescribable. It feels like he’s searching for something hidden deep underneath the surface. Asking you to share your deepest, darkest secrets that no one would dare utter in anyone else's presence. Just his. 

“I desire something more. I desire knowledge of a world that is hidden from humans. I desire a world where fairytales and myths are more than stories. I desire your world.”

Once again, you stunned him with your honesty. Uttering your inner desires as if it came easily to you. Wanting so badly for your world to contain more than mundane human life. He would have known if you were lying or giving him half truths. But you didn’t.

“My name is Sylus.” He says and holds out his hand for you to shake. It’s scaly, rough, sharp and magnificent. 

You offer him your name in return as your hand joins his. He brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. The contrast of his rough hands and soft lips surprises you. You want him to keep surprising you. More discoveries, more unpredictable behaviour, more dragon, more him. More, more, more! 

“So greedy…” He laughs as his warm breath ghosts along the hand he still holds close. 

“Don’t you like greedy humans?” You question.

“I like greedy humans when they give in.”

You couldn’t fight it even if you tried. The greed and desire to take, take, take. Devour him. Sylus wanted you to take, he would have allowed you to feast on his blood if you asked. Everytime you gave in to your desires to know everything about him and his world, you allowed him to peek into yours. 

Your world was bleak, empty. Devoid of anything that brought you pleasure. His world offered everything you craved. The more time you spent in it, the more you wanted to stay. Forever. 

The village had begun to take note of your trips into the forest becoming longer and more frequent. Whispers and rumors discussing whatever you could be getting up to in the forest late at night, spread like wildfire. 

‘She’s a witch. A servant of the underworld claimed by the Source of all evil.’ You didn’t care, at first… Then there were subtle threats that made you feel unsafe. Red string tied to your doorhandle. Dry lavender stuffed into the letterbox. Your village wanted you gone. They were scared of you. The child who was so badly burned by the dragon, whose life should have been claimed all those years ago, had finally been taken to serve some evil deity. Perhaps they were right, that it should have been you and not your mother. Perhaps the fire should have taken you instead. 

The whispers only worsened when the family of the boy who tormented your childhood publicly shared that you had wished for their son to turn into charcoal on the very night of the fire. Now that you were publicly accused of witchcraft, your words held a different meaning to them. Their son perished that night. Suddenly the accusations became harder to ignore

Even Tara and Simone had to abandon you. They didn’t want to, but you feared they’d be subjected to the same torment as yourself if they stayed by your side any longer. 

There wasn’t much you could do. If you stopped going to the forest, stopped going to Sylus, the witchcraft accusation that led to the death of a child wouldn’t disappear. People would watch over your every move, anything you did or said could be used as evidence against you. So you left. Spending more and more time with your dragon only sneaking home at night when the village was sleeping. You had to get away from them and their unjustified judgement. There was only one person you wanted, only one person who made you feel safe, him. 

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find peculiarities.” Sylus says.

You and Sylus have a perfect view of the sun setting in the horizon. Propped up on a little ledge high up in the mountains. He’d been taking you flying fairly often these days, loving being able to put a smile on your face. Taking you far far away from the horrible whispers from your village. Flying made you feel powerful, like you were stronger than any other regular human. Even if the wings didn’t grow out of your back, when you were flying, it felt like they were a part of you as well. Like you and Sylus were one. 

“Peculiarities? Is that what I am?” You exclaim, faking a hurt expression.

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find a quarrelsome human who dares question the mighty dragon.” He continues. Not only teasing you further, but also skipping your turn in the game.

“Be quiet, it’s my turn!” You laugh, slapping the tail that pins you in place. The tail curls tighter around you, before tugging you closer to Sylus’ warmth. A warmth you greatly appreciated at your current altitude. 

The deep rumble of his laughter had quickly become one of your favorite sounds. You craved it the same way you once craved to know his name. You began appreciating time, wanting to make the most of it rather than simply waiting for it to pass and bring you closer to an end. Now you wanted to savor it.

With the passing of time, came the change of seasons. Winter was looming and with it came earlier nights and colder weather. Sylus kept you safe and warm, but he could not accompany you back to the village. To keep you from wandering the forest in the dark, you had to cut your evenings together short. 

“The sun is setting, we should get you home, kitten.” He hated parting from you. Hated sending you into the forest alone, back to this other life of yours where he wasn’t welcome. Where his presence in turn had made you unwelcome as well. 

Before you had time to protest, heavy raindrops prickled your skin. The raindrops quickly became firmer as they slapped against you. A wing quickly enveloped you acting as a shield protecting your feeble body from the forceful hail. The sun had completely abandoned you, allowing clouds, lightning and thunder to forcefully punish you both for staying together for too long. 

A quick glimpse at Sylus told you that he was not immune to the hail attacking his exposed body. There was an inkling of pain in his expression as he looked around for a way to get you both down from the mountain. 

“Sylus…”

“Do you trust me, kitten?”

“Of course!”

“I’m taking you to my cave. It’s a shorter flight than all the way back to your village.” You simply nodded, eager to find somewhere that could cover you both and give his wings a break from the piercing ice.

When you were finally airborne, he held you closer than he ever had before, unaware of the fact that your skirts had risen leaving your scarred leg exposed to the elements. It was agonizing, but he had it worse, so you kept your mouth shut and allowed mother nature to continue punishing you. 

“We’re almost there, sweetie.” Your head was tucked against his chest, protected as best as he could. Not good enough! He was a dragon for fucks sake, he should be able to keep you safe from something as simple as a quick change in weather. He cursed himself for failing you, clutched you even tighter and flew faster than he had in a long time. 

Then the howling wind stilled and the burning ice pounding against your sore leg disappeared. You were covered, and no longer flying. Sylus walked forward, further into his cave, with you in his arms. 

Now you could tell how quick his heart was beating, how erratic his breathing had gotten, and how tightly he was holding you. You softly hiss in pain before you realize that the stinging sensation you’re reacting to is his claws digging into your thigh and waist.

“What is it? Where are you hurt?” Concern flashes over his eyes as he gently sets you down in a pile of furs and blankets. 

“It’s nothing.” A lie. 

“Sweetie, please.” He begs. But he doesn’t need to beg for long when he sees the pattern of red seeping through your clothing. A pattern he recognizes as his own beastly talons. 

Panic quickly sets in and he scrambles to pull your skirts back to assess the damage he inflicted on your thigh. Your hand on his wrist halts his movements and he looks at you with pleading eyes, urging you to allow him to continue. 

“Please.” He begs once more and you reluctantly release your hold on his wrist.

He’s gentle. Careful. Treating your tattered old dress as if it was made from the finest silks. The exposed burnmarks covering your left leg consume your attention, pulling you in like a magnet. Sylus hasn’t even noticed the burns, he’s close to tears by the four specks of blood slowly gliding down your thigh. The wounds themselves are barely bigger than the tip of a needle, but that doesn’t matter to him. He put those there, he hurt you. 

“Sylus. You didn’t do it on purpose. With the force of the wind and all the water I would have slipped from your grasp had you not held me closer.” It’s not enough to comfort him. His greatest fears are coming true. He truly is a monster, put on this earth to maim and kill. ”Sylus, listen to me. I’m fine. If not for you, I would have never made it down from that ledge.”

“If not for me you wouldn’t have been on that ledge in the first place.” He says coldly. 

“Don’t you dare. Do not allow your mind to wander toward those thoughts! To you these wounds may seem like the end of the world, but to me they are the beginning.”

“Every time you take your clothes off you'll be reminded of how I hurt you. These will become scars and serve as a constant reminder of the beast who wounded you.” Those words hurt more than his claws ever could and before you have time to think you reach out and strike him. So hard that the scales on his cheek leaves a stinging sensation in your palm. 

He growls at you. You keep your eyes locked on his, matching his anger.

“Don’t you dare speak like that!”

“Any man or woman you chose to take to your bed will see that you were once captured by the foul fiend from their childhood nightmares! You won’t ever be able to escape the horrors caused by the disgusting dragon!”

You knew he wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at himself. Your wounds served as tangible evidence of his weakness. Proof of why he chose solitude. It was like looking in a mirror and only seeing the dragon staring back at him, rather than the man. 

“Sylus, look at me. Look at my legs.” He listens and you feel his gaze move from your bleeding thigh before stopping at the healed burns. “Regardless of whom I take to my bed, I’ve known for a long time that they’ll see my damaged body. I’ve been reminded of horrifying events whenever I take my clothes off since I was a child.”

You gently take hold of his hand and allow his claws to glide along the tender skin. 

“These are a constant reminder of the fire that took my mother away from me. I’ll never forget how much pain I was in, but that pain pales in comparison to coming to terms with my mother being gone.” You pull his hand back up to your thigh, where the blood has already started to dry. He winces at the sight and tries to pull his hand back, but your hold is relentless. “No matter what happens, these will remind me of the wonderful man I met in the forest who offered me a new world. A world where he showed me things I never could have imagined. Experiences that made me want more. They will remind me of my dragon.”

Humans are such strange little creatures. Sylus thought he knew everything there was to know about them, but then he met you. 

“You’re shivering, sweetie.” He sighs and places a warm hand on your cheek.

“I am rather cold.” You can sense how tense he is, like he’s scared of touching you. 

“I’ll be back shortly.” He says, before retreating further into the cave.

He returns mere moments later with a large linen garment in his hands. 

“I’ve used this on the coldest nights of my life, I don’t need it now.” He hands you the garment and turns his back toward you. 

“I won’t peek.”

You gladly shed your soaked layers eager to discard the wet fabric clinging to your body. Whilst his back is turned, you take a peak at the markings his claws created on your waist. After a quick assessment you deem them harmless and pull the shirt over your head. He didn’t need to see them. The shirt is far too large and quickly slips off your shoulder.

“You can turn around now, Sylus.”

He takes a deep breath before kneeling next to you urging you to lay down on the soft furs. 

“Good night, sweetie.” His words give you this horrible feeling that he intends to leave you here alone.

“Please stay. I’m still cold.” You hesitantly whisper, feeling a flush spreading over your cheeks.

Sylus takes a moment to ponder. How was he worthy of laying next to you after what he had done? How could he trust himself to keep you safe ever again? Why did you still trust him? But the pleading look in your eyes, the blueish tinge to your lips gave him an answer. You needed him. And if he dared admit it, he needed you too. The fragile little human who wasn’t scared of him, she never was. Perhaps she wasn’t as fragile as he thought… 

“Close your eyes.” You do as you’re told without knowing why he asked you to do so. Then you hear the sound of metal and leather gathering on the floor. The sound echoes slightly within the cave.

His feet shuffle and the furs shift slightly next to you.

“How cold are you?” He carefully asks, keeping a safe distance until you wish for him to be closer.

“Quite cold.” You turn to carefully peek at him over your shoulder.

He scoots closer before placing an arm around you and pulling you toward him. He’s so warm allowing your shivering frame to instantly relax against him. Sylus is still tense, fearful of the new closeness. Then your nimble fingers rest over his caressing his scales. He has never felt safer than he does in this very moment. 

“Will you tell me a story?” He asks as his lips slowly graze your shoulder.

“Which one do you want to hear?”

“Do you know any stories about dragons?”

“Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find forces of evil that torture and bind. Treasures of gold and jewels to feed the insatiable sin of a dragon's greed. Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find black magic that curse and bewitch the mind. Crystals and gems to quench his desire hidden away by the forces of fire.” You pause before continuing, the final line was always your least favorite. “Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find the stench of a beast so foul and unkind…”

“How unpleasant. This is what your impression of dragons was based on?” Warm breath cradles your neck as he speaks.

“We can change it. I’ve heard different versions, every village seems to have their own.”

“Alright. How about this; Under the wings of a dragon you’ll find a sleeping maiden so delightful and kind.”

“I like that.” You giggle, pressing yourself impossibly close to his warm chest.

“Sleep now, sweetie. We can create more stories tomorrow.” He whispers and kisses your cheek. 

That night you fall asleep with a smile on your face that holds emotions you’ve never experienced before. Emotions you’ve never felt for anyone other than the dragon who holds you close whilst the storm rages outside his cave. 

My dragon.

Under the wings of a dragon you’ll see that his greatest treasure has always been me.

AN: Thanks for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! If anyone is interested in being added to the taglist, let me know!

Taglist: @babyx91 @lemurianmaster @morrigan87 @dawnbreakerswife @sylusgworl @seraphimcollections @plzdonutpercieveme

Read more ll Masterlist ll Colonel Kaboom 𓂃🖊

[bloodmoonmary]

MARY’S LIBRARY

hephaestion’s footnote (2023) ✶ “what’s real?” in this experimental biography, mary reconstructs alexander the great’s lost years through the annotations of a fictional scholar obsessively marking up a 1923 edition of plutarch. the real narrative unfolds in the margins—not in the primary text, but in the increasingly frantic scribbles of dr. eleanor vasseur, whose academic descent mirrors alexander’s own unraveling.

as vasseur’s notes progress from measured analysis to manic revisions, she "discovers" suppressed fragments suggesting hephaestion survived their recorded chronology to witness alexander’s metamorphosis from conqueror to living deity. the marginalia transforms into a palimpsest of grief: ink blots become battlefields, coffee rings mark where alexander’s humanity evaporated, and pressed flowers (identified as babylonian mourning blossoms) stain crucial passages about divine pretension.

📖 prizes: folio prize, international, international booker dublin literary award, prix médicis étranger, franz kafka prize, prix des abîmes. 📖 information: got the help of han kang to write this novel.

every winter (2024) ✶ a man spends years haunted by the ghost of a love that never quite left him. though the relationship ended in a tangle of unmet expectations and quiet resentments, he still sees her everywhere—in the turn of a stranger’s laugh, in the scent of gardenias on a summer breeze, in the way certain songs still catch in his throat. they cross paths occasionally—by accident at first, then later, perhaps, by unspoken design. a coffee shop. a friend’s wedding. a train platform where neither of them is supposed to be. each encounter is a fresh fracture, a reopening of a wound that never truly healed. she moves through the world untouched, while he remains trapped in the amber of their past, replaying conversations they never had and endings they never got.

📖 prizes: international dublin literary award, man booker, franz kafka prize, international booker, women’s prize for fiction 📖 information: it was a book clearly dedicated to his ex-boyfriend charles, inspired by the messages she received some years after the broke up, and how they still meet often even after they broke up. charles in august 2024 read the book and declared "it's one of my favorites".

cerberus, hunger and other margiela tales (2025, january) ✶ “eat me, cerberus” “lucy didn’t knew why her mother was like that” one book who unites two tales made by mary margiela.

📖 prizes: women’s prize for fiction, premio viareggio, premio mondello, prix goncourt, international booker, prix feminina 📖 information: these tales published are the ones she wrote mainly as a teenager and child.

no morality (2027) ✶ a transhistorical tapestry of hunger and devouring. across centuries and continents, humanity’s darkest survival instincts intertwine with love, loss, and the unrelenting maw of history. this mosaic novel weaves together five eras where cannibalism becomes a mirror for the societies that practice it—sometimes sacred, sometimes desperate, always haunting.

📖 prizes: nobel in literature, neustadt, man booker, international booker, pulitzer, women’s prize for fiction, folio prize, international dublin literary award, prix médicis étranger, franz kafka prize, prix formentor, michalski prize, premio strega europeo, premio malaparte, prix goncourt, premio lovecraft, prix femina 📖 info: the swedish academy has awarded mary margiela the nobel prize in literature for her lacerating poetic prose that dissects historical violence while laying bare the precariousness of human existence. in its citation, the academy praised margiela's ability to excavate both personal and collective trauma with surgical precision, rendering brutality with an almost devotional lyricism. her seminal novel, *morality*, was highlighted as a work of devastating intimacy—a scalpel taken to the flesh of conformity, violence, and the silent wars waged within the body itself.

𓂃

1. the siege (winter, 1238 – mongol empire)

a fortified city burns under the mongol horde’s siege. within the starving walls, a scholar-turned-butcher records the meticulous division of the dead in his illuminated journal—each ration a sacrament to buy one more day. when his own daughter dies, he must choose between burying her or feeding her to the orphans she once taught. but the conquerors, too, have their hunger: for empire, for oblivion. when the gates finally fall, the victors find only gnawed bones and a chronicle written in bile and ink.

2. the crossing (1846 – donner party, american west)

a pregnant woman carves her husband’s name into her thigh so she will remember who she ate first. the snowbound wagons are a cathedral of frost and shame, where the survivors recite bible verses to drown out the sound of cracking bones. but one girl, half-mad with hunger, begins to hear the consumed whispering inside her. are they curses, or blessings? when rescue comes, she refuses to leave—because the voices tell her the truth: outside, they’ll only call you monster.

3. the colony (1897 – belgian congo)

a missionary’s wife, sick with fever, watches as rubber plantation workers—starved by leopold’s quotas—disappear into the jungle at night. she follows, only to witness a secret: they are eating the dead not from hunger, but revenge. a twisted communion, where every swallowed piece of a fallen comrade is a rebellion against the machines that grind men into profit. when she is caught, they offer her a choice: join the feast, or become it.

4. the bomb (1945 – hiroshima, japan)

in the atomic aftermath, a doctor sifts through the ruins, stitching together the living while the city eats itself. markets sell “shadow stew”—meat cut from corpses that still bear the ghostly imprints of the blast. his own son, radiation-scorched, begs to die. the doctor hesitates. that night, a grief-mad widow offers him a bowl of broth that tastes like mercy. only later does he recognize the scar on the floating piece of flesh—his child’s birthmark.

[freshcuntgrass]

Every single thing by Gilbert and Sullivan (lyrics and music, respectively) is like this. The plot of Iolanthe is basically "a bunch of fairies fuck up the House of Lords," and there's a character who is half mortal and half fairy, meaning fairy from the waist up but his legs are mortal. HMS Pinafore ends with a dramatic secret family reveal that is EXTREMELY mathematically improbable but somehow solves everything.

My personal favorite, Ruddigore, is about a cursed noble family where the baronet has to do one crime per day or be tortured to death by the ghosts of his ancestors. The older brother of the family is Overly Good and goes into hiding to avoid the title, while the younger brother loves crime so so much. When the older brother's identity is found out, they have to switch places, and he keeps trying to do crimes that aren't that bad, like tax evasion. The resolution to the curse somehow? "Since refusing the ancestor's orders would be tantamount to suicide, and suicide is itself a crime, then none of us [ghosts] ought to have died at all!" and then they're just. alive again because why not. (The main ghost's song is an all-time Halloween banger.)

There's something like 10-15 of these shows, although Pirates is the most famous by a lot. They all make fun of various aspects of British class and society, as well as trends in the "serious" operas of the day, but you don't need to get any of that for them to be ridiculous and a great time. (Fair warning that the other famous one, The Mikado, has some pretty cringeworthy orientalism. It was intended to make fun of Madama Butterfly and similar operas that try to cash in on "exoticism" and Western fetishization of the East, but it's a classic case of "white guys intending to do satire just do the thing they're satirizing and assume you'll understand they don't mean it." Modern productions usually try to subvert or negate this in one way or another. I've heard of everything from anime-styled productions to ones just set in Victorian England.)

There are a lot of theater companies around the world that dedicate themselves to performing these. There might be one near you-- search your area plus "Gilbert and Sullivan society" and you could find them live. They're also largely available online. The Seattle Gilbert and Sullivan Society has all of their productions over the years on YouTube, and they're pretty high-quality (some of them are very much ripped from a VHS but it's good singing and staging). Closed captioning available and everything, so you can appreciate all of the silliness. Go forth and become G&S-pilled.

hey hey guys heyo

if you haven’t listened to g&s’ the Pirates of Penzance you NEED to it’s genuinely one of the funniest musicals in the world it’s just batshit insane. it reads like a crackfic and i desperately crave aus set in this world because g u y s

the pirates are so chivalrous that they never invade small ships, only ones bigger and better than them. they’re all orphans and when they manage to capture people everyone claims they’re also an orphan so the pirates let them go. the main character frederic works with the pirates because his nursemaid has bad hearing and was ordered to apprentice him to a pilot. frederic jumps out of his hiding place to tell these beautiful girls he was watching their conversation because they were about to take off their stockings how sCA nd aLoU s. frederic sings a whole dramatic betrayal ballad w his forty-year-old nursemaid because she told him she was beautiful so he’d marry her but he thinks she’s hella ugly. this kicks off her villain arc. he asks a whole, entirely unrelated group of ladies if they’re rly ugly and nobody wants to date them, they say no, so he goes ‘😬 u sure?’ twice in a row. THE very model of a modern major general sings his song upon entry, only afterwards asking what’s going on, implying that he sings it every time he sees people. the song is about how good he is at being a general but all he brags about are skills that are entirely irrelevant, eg, integral and differential calculus. frederic plans to exterminate the pirates because he’s turned 21 and left his indenture (they are very respectful about this) but realises he’s apprenticed to them until his 21st birthday and he was born on the 29th of february. there’s these policemen who are just absolute cowards and hide the moment the pirates arrive, then the pirates hear the general arriving and also hide - picture a pirate and a policeman standing obviously behind poles and completely failing to see each other. the policemen echo the ends of lyrics even if it makes no sense, eg “pied in crime” “culty smother”. the pirates sing a song about how stealthy they are, which could be interpreted as just how musicals are, but i’d like to think they’re belting the whole thing. the entire plot is resolved by the sergeant bidding the pirates to yield in Queen Victoria’s name, to which they immediately yield and become noblemen again. oh also it’s a full opera

[ronna-rue]

The way that Wayne Family Adventures displays growth in the bat family's relationships is literally *so good* but unfortunately it has now set a standard that other DC comics are just not able to live up to, especially where Jason Todd is concerned.

I just hate the reductionist interpretation of his personality that so many authors take! He's one of the more complex characters that DC has to offer and yet! Jaybin becomes "angsty teen" and even worse sometimes a "bad seed." Like "there's something wrong with him we just can't fix and thats why he later becomes a homicidal maniac aaahhh!" No!

He's actually introduced as a "good kid" who ends up having a lot of unfortunate things happen to him that he doesn't have time to process, and even in the late 80s the authors had Bruce Wayne be able to figure that out, so why do they keep retconning it to be worse?

My favorite interpretation is of Jason and Bruce being the most similar out of all the Batman and Robin duos in everything but that line Bruce has drawn in the sand. Jason is not Dick Grayson, but that's not a bad thing either!

I just need writers to stop regressing Jason's character and to stop making him so two-dimensional lol it makes both him *and* Bruce look bad when they do that. He can be an antihero without being a full villain and definitely without being a jerk. Also, he's canonically intelligent, a book nerd even, so just because he's buff and brooding doesn't mean he only knows how to brute force his way through problems, like come on.

[cvldbones]

Do you have any thoughts/ideas for kingdon au meet cutes?

oh yes, we're now at the stage of fandom where AUs can really thrive

pet store AU: freshly-divorced frank decides he is going to adopt a dog, actually, because abby fucking hated them and now he's on his own so why not? and he goes to the local pet store and there is one melissa king who has A Lot of opinions on the type of dog he should get and on proper dog care/etc. and they become friends in this weird sort of way where he's always bringing the dog by to get her advice and he's terrified to leave the dog alone for a weekend so she pet-sits and they, naturally, Fall In Love.

college AU: frank is already in his peak "performing masculinity" stage (joining a fraternity, being obnoxious and cocky in classes, etc.) and maybe he gets partnered with mel in chemistry lab and she clocks him immediately. can see that he's putting on a big ol show for everyone but, for some reason, doesn't do it with her. they have late night study sessions and he brings her to frat parties but spends the entire night glued to her side and they fuck in one of the library study rooms when things finally burst.

set it up AU: sent this one to some people awhile back but this is my favorite romcom of the 21st century and it deserves its fucking flowers! mel works for jack abbot and frank works for michael robinavitch and idc what the rabbot jobs are but the important thing is melfrank conspire to get them together so they can have some free time (and, obviously, fall in love themselves). abby is the annoying supermodel frank is dating. dealer's choice whether you want it to end like the movie (if so, this could be a prime opening for the reveal that jack x samira and robby x collins is already happening, but rabbot went along with the charade because they were secretly also trying to get melfrank together).

some kind of blind date AU: this could go either way, like melfrank are set up on a blind date by their friends and they've been putting it off forever because neither of them is "ready to date" right now, but then they meet by total accident at a bar or something and, surprise surprise! they're obsessed with each other. version 2 could be they're both meeting other dates at the bar with the same/similar names or whatever and they get to talking and wind up standing up their actual dates to hang with each other. (i think something like this happened with meredith on grey's anatomy? i stopped watching that though lmao)

okay and my personal favorite one that i really thought i was gonna write but now don't know if i'll get to is a new girl AU: frank and abby break up and he needs a place to live. garcia finds this super perfunctory listing in the classifieds (it is more detailed than most job descriptions frank has read, seriously). he winds up becoming the fifth roommate with mel, santos, whitaker, and samira. javadi can be there too if you want idgaf. santos x garcia subplots, obviously. tomfoolery ensues. (i would give my first born to whoever wrote this seriously this was gonna be my next fic and then my appalachian melfrank became my entire life)

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

Hello!! I’m not sure if you even write for the Weasley twins anymore, but if you do can you write a story where both or one of the twins have a penis piercing and the reader is shocked but turned on?

*big doe eyes* i promise i still write for my favorite twins<3

george weasley x reader x fred weasley, 18+ mdni, genitalia piercings (both twins have one 😘), oral (m receiving), pwp, this is just a silly, goofy blurb because they would definitely do that, not proofread ♡

after a long, long night of drinking with the weasley twins, the three of you ended up in a place you knew all too well: their bedroom.

of course, their beds were never pushed together, in fact they were on opposite ends of the room. but the twins had no intention of placing you there first.

sinking to your knees, you paw at fred’s clothed crotch like a needy cat. “take these off, freddie, you know i’m impatient.” to prove your point you rub your cheek on the growing outline of his bulge, earning a curse from the boy above you.

“christ, sweetheart. you’re real needy tonight aren’t you?”

nodding, you give the denim outline a small kitten lick, further driving your point home.

“you think she’s ready to see our new addition, george?”

“i don’t know, fred. i think she might need to beg for it.”

your eyes dart back and forth between the redhead boys, heart pounding in anticipation for what they meant. “what are you guys talking about? you know i don’t like it when you keep secrets..”

fred begins unbuttoning his jeans, slowly, his intention to tease becoming more and more apparent.

“you heard georgie, beg for it.”

your cheeks were hot with embarrassment, half due to the alcohol surging through your veins and half because you had no idea what they were even talking about.

but who were you to deny them anything? you sat back on your heels, glossy eyes looking up at fred who had his hands stilled on the zipper of his jeans, not moving until you gave in to their demand.

“please, freddie, i wanna see.” you bit your lip, scrambling forward and increasing your touch on his almost fully hard cock. in turn, the twin bit his own lip, fighting giving in and taking you right there and then.

“are you sure sweetheart? wouldn’t want to send your heart thumping out of your chest..” despite his words. fred fully unzipped his jeans, preparing to pull them down and expose his boxers to you.

you lick your lips and guide your hands onto his, silently begging him to move them faster so you could wrap your lips around his cock.

“i can take it, i promise.”

“yeah you will. you always take what we give you like a good girl, don’t you?”

you whine, gripping the waistband of fred’s boxers and snapping them against his skin, earning his fist in your hair. “ah, but good girls are patient.”

with his free hand, fred begins to pull his underwear down at an agonizingly slow pace, fully intent on teasing you.

what hits your eyes is something you’re not expecting.

your eyes widen. “what the hell is that?” you fall backwards, hand catching you before you fall flat on the ground. even still, you can’t stop yourself from staring wide-eyed at the small silver ring glinting from the head of fred’s cock.

his grin was smug and intoxicating. “that is what a little bit of muggle money and freedom can get you.”

“really? you didn’t get, i don’t know, a tattoo for your mum or your nose pierced like a normal person?” you’re not disappointed, far from it. you’re shocked, and quite possibly a little turned on.

george snorts. “surprised he didn’t show you the moment we got ‘em, and that he actually followed the ‘no sex for 2 weeks’ rule.”

you click your tongue. “so that’s why i haven’t been getting laid.” as you ponder on his words, the term we registers, “hang on, we?!”

“well of course, what kind of twin brother would i be if i didn’t get one with him?”

as you stare up at george, fred guides the tip of his cock to your parted lips. the ring is cold on your warm tongue but the feeling is welcome - you can only assume what it’ll feel like when it hits your throat.

your thighs instinctively clenched together. fred saw immediately. “oh. oh, she likes it.”

you whimper around his length now halfway nestled in your mouth and aiming to go deeper. “knew she would. our girl likes everything we give her.” george says.

fred let’s out a low groan when he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes shut at the unfamiliar feeling of cold metal hitting your uvula. george, not to be outdone, ran his fingers through your hair, a gentle indication that he wanted attention as well.

“don’t forget me, love. i’ve been aching to see what that mouth of yours thinks of mine.”

you shutter at george’s words, eyes shutting again and tears spilling as you take fred’s cock to the hilt.

two pierced cocks. two equally smug, flushed, desperate twins, watching you like they were starving. your mind raced with possibilities; sitting on one while sucking the other, letting them take turns, seeing if the metal made you cum faster…

“don’t worry,” fred murmured as if he could read your thoughts, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, voice thick with hunger. “you’ve got all night to test them both out.”

“and we’ll let you decide which one’s your favorite,” george added, suddenly behind you, licking a stripe behind your ear, making you shiver.

you whimpered, dazed. “what if i can’t choose?”

“oh, dove,” george said, smug and reverent, already guiding you into his lap, “that’s the point.”

[fixated-cookies]

GAWD, YOUR WRITTING IS THE LAST FRAGMENT IS TOP TIER, i also wondering if you've gonna continue..with pure vanilla maybe?👀 No rush of course! Please take your time

I was wondering on reader opinions towards Pure vanilla and what backstory they had in this AU? The few things i noticed is that Reader is kind of trapped in a beautiful cage with no freedom, craves one but afraid they might not survive because the outside world wouldn't treat them like Pure vanilla does(i may be wrong but this is how i see them) and Pure vanilla presence is a discomfort but y/n can't figured where it was, as if it was covered by the gentle treatment he gave to us.

I felt like we also never know why the worker(maid/butler/guard etc) in vanilla castle is empty, something has to do with smc by their absence (idk if this was mention in the fic, i'm sorry if it does, i have a bad memory) it intrigued me by the opposite behaviour they gave to reader, it balanced well and fit them like yin and yang but smc is kind of the yin(in evil there kindness) and pv is yang (in kindness there evil) since pv gave me discomfort smc does, was it inteneded? Or maybe, i just got creep out by Pv behaviour

Though, a scenarios of reader running away from them keep repeating in my mind, would the necklace/souljam they wore tracked them down and smc and pv will easily find where they are? Though, thinking about it, i think it will caused a havoc when pv just realized were not in the castle and order guard to find us around the vanilla kingdom. Yeaa, if i was in that situation i know i'll be DEAD DEAD😦

And i apologized for making this really wrong and bomb you with many question, i swear i'm just a curious fella, nothing else. Have a good day, love your writting💕💖

oooh yeahh, worldbuilding, my favorite! Okokok so reader's opinion of them in this au may be something akin to Stockholm Syndrome. They know and are aware that the situation their in isn't exactly consensual but it could've been a lot more worse, especially towards shadow milk cookie given his past. Wwith pure vanilla its more like “He’s kind to me. He’s never raised his voice. He brings me tea every morning and brushes my hair when I’m tired. I should be grateful.” Reader wants to believe they love Pure Vanilla. They want to believe he’s safety. He’s calm. He’s nurturing. He gives them everything they could ever need. He tells them the world is cruel, and they’re safer in the palace. That they’re not ready for what’s out there. And… maybe he’s right? On the other hand with Shadow Milk cookie

Reader finds him terrifying. He’s loud, unpredictable, chaotic. He teases, corners, toys with them. But unlike Pure Vanilla, Shadow Milk doesn’t pretend. His obsession is clear. “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you know it.” is what he says.

But somehow that brutal honesty coming from a being that is known for their deceits feels oddly freeing. Their basically ying and yang; In kindness their is evil, and in evil their is kindness Shadow Milk Cookie is terrifying and unhinged, but never lies about what he is. His obsession is raw, but not hidden.

Pure Vanilla Cookie is tender and soft, but there’s something almost… divine and cold about him. As if he believes so wholly that what he’s doing is right that he can’t even see how cruel he’s become in the process. Also with the palace staff dissapearing was totally on shadow milks end, he may just have teleported them somewhere comedic like in the middle of the forest lol, or maybe into some other domain temporarily. In fact, when Pure vanilla came back, he was confused on why the palace guards didn't greet him and why servants were gone! heres a little drabble on his perspective

The palace was too quiet.

Pure Vanilla’s steps echoed faintly as he walked through the main corridor, the soft clink of his staff the only sound for miles. The usual laughter of maids, the gentle clatter of porcelain, the familiar greetings of the guards—all gone.

“...Strange,” he murmured, glancing around.

No one had come to greet him. Not a single guard stood post.

Even the garden doves weren’t singing tonight.

He paused by the entrance hall, fingers tightening slightly on his staff. “Where is everyone?”

A vague ripple of magic still hung in the air. Subtle. Slippery. A scent like milk and blueberries danced faintly on the wind, too faint for anyone else to notice.

Pure Vanilla exhaled slowly. “Shadow Milk…”

There was no anger in his voice. Only a soft sigh, and a gentle crease to his brow. The kind that comes not from wrath—but from resignation.

He turned toward the east wing. Your wing.

Perhaps you had answers. Perhaps you’d been frightened by the quiet, or were waiting for him to return.

The door creaked open.

He stepped inside.

And the world changed.

There you were—limbs tangled with Shadow Milk’s, flushed and marked and panting against his chest, half-slick with the proof of what had happened. Your Soul Jam fragment glowed wildly against your throat.

And Shadow Milk?

That demon smiled like a child who had painted a masterpiece in blood. -- Also I like to think pure vanilla isn't necessarily jealous or outraged at shadow milk hehehe, don't worry i'll continue to this little story very soon.

[yourspoetically13]

💀⚠️ 𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗙𝗨𝗘𝗟 𝗭𝗢𝗡𝗘 ⚠️💀 max | 16 | they/them | nonbinary masc gremlin energy | demisexual panromantic disaster | aries | borderline emotional dumpster fire with a god complex and zero fucks left to give

🕳️ not here to be digestible. not here to be soft. i am all thorns and teeth and the kind of honesty that burns going down.

🔥 DNI (DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT) IF YOU: ➤ Are racist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, or otherwise actively rotting. ➤ Think my gender, identity, or existence is up for debate. it’s not. sit down. ➤ Fetishize or invalidate queer people. keep your kink-coded bullshit far from my little gay chaos shrine. ➤ Glorify mental illness, trauma, or self-harm like it’s an aesthetic or some sadgirlcore fantasy. ➤ Disrespect conan gray, my writing, or any of the beautifully broken things that hold me together. ➤ Are here to lecture, tone police, or emotionally manipulate. this is not a safe space for fakeness. ➤ Expect palatable content. i’m raw, volatile, and emotionally loud on main.

⚡ INTERACT IF YOU: 🌪️ Are a fellow emotionally explosive nonbinary creature who lives on the edge of a spiral. 🔥 Understand the difference between chaos and cruelty and choose chaos. 🖤 Know what it means to feel everything at once, all the time, and still keep going. 💀 Are queer, weird, poetic, unhinged, or just tired of being soft for people who didn’t deserve it. 🎧 Think conan gray songs should be illegal because of how hard they hit. 🫀 Know the pain of loving too hard, too soft, and never the right way. 💬 Send messages like “u good?” followed by 3 memes and a breakdown. 🌈 Respect and uplift nonbinary identities without making it weird. 🦷 Don’t mind if I scream, cry, write a 10k fic, and vanish for 3 days straight. 🍬 Will share your sour gummy worms AND your trauma.

🩸 WARNING: I will cry over fictional characters, scream about conan gray at 3am, vanish mid-convo, then reappear with 12 new fixations and a playlist titled “💔 i’m fine but i’m not.” if you’re not ready to witness a live emotional car crash, scroll the fuck away.

🔥 MOOTS & PARTNERS IN CRIME: → my mutuals are chosen family. if i tag you, i love you. if i don’t, scream louder. we might become unhinged soulmates.

@thatoneartist-inthecorner (ur so cool omg ALSO WERE MARRIED NOW)

@aroace-not-arokay (ILYSM UR ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE thanks fo rbeing the best <3)

@frooglet (CHARLIE MY POOKIE)

@urcr4zy4nnoying (AH HIII!!)

@lumosthething (hi pooks!!!)

@wobblystrawberry (why hellooooo)

@rainystarssx (i see you...)

@falling-in-deep (AH WIFE)

@fxtion-fweax (hiiiiii)

@joybat2

@justthatpersonalex

@xxbleedingfoxpawzzxx

@m1riyooriel

🖤 WHAT I AM:

nonbinary masc gremlin powered by rage and bpd

demisexual + panromantic: i fall in love slow, deep, and then forever

a conan gray devotee because his music hits like being gut-punched with glitter

borderline disaster™ with too many thoughts and no chill

a poetic wreck that plays water polo like it’ll fix me

someone who feels everything at maximum volume at all times

⚡ WHAT YOU CAN EXPECT:

tumblr posts that read like love letters and suicide notes at the same time

chaotic shitposting, midnight poetry, and the occasional emotional nuke

unhinged fandom meltdowns (esp. conan & umbrella academy)

bpd-coded oversharing and hilarious self-awareness

mood swings, music recs, and a slow descent into madness

📌 EXTRAS:

sideblogs = proof of my spirals

playlists = my therapy

tags = #max yaps about whatever's currently breaking them #oh look an anon - ANON!!! #mypookie - MY POOKIEEEEE WE MARRIED #charliemypookie - CHARLIEEE!! #max yaps - me randomly talking #max yaps about conan gray - exactly what it sounds like #kiwimypookie - KIWI!!

i might love you. or block you. we’ll see.

—

🖤 AND REMEMBER:

this is not a blog. this is a haunted house of emotions, glitter, gender, and rage. enter only if you’re ready to set yourself on fire with me.

i am not here to be understood. i am here to be felt—loud, messy, and all-consuming. if you can’t handle the fire, don’t beg to hold the match.

💋 welcome to the wreckage. fix your crown or burn with me.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

🧠 Harley Sawyer Headcanon: Sleeping With His Eyes Open

🛌 THE FACT

Yes. Harley absolutely sleeps with his eyes open not every night, but frequently enough that it’s become a thing people know to either ignore… or fear.

It’s a trauma-adjacent habit, born from hypervigilance and paranoia — likely stemming from his abusive childhood, where he had to stay alert to avoid sudden outbursts or violence.

His time at Playtime Co., where he knows damn well that: People hate his guts. He’s surrounded by literal monsters, both human and inhuman. Some of the things he created might want revenge....

Sleep = vulnerability. And Harley? He hates being vulnerable.

🧠 How It Works

He sleeps partially conscious, often in light REM stages only. He’ll crash deeper if he trusts the environment (like with you nearby), but otherwise?

One eye open.

Body frozen.

Breathing shallow.

Not fully asleep, but not awake either.

He’s trained himself into a default survival state — which also explains why he’s so volatile when startled awake.

😱 Leith Pierre’s Reaction

Leith once barges into the lab one night to grab some files, only to find Harley sitting perfectly still at his desk, head bowed slightly, staring at the wall.

“Sawyer…? You’re not seriously still working this late—?”

No response.

“Sawyer?”

Nothing. Just the buzz of an overhead light. Leith steps closer.

“You dead or just ignoring me, you son of a—”

And then Harley blinks. Slowly. Lazily. His head turns like something out of a horror movie.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Harley says in a low growl.

Leith jumps back, curses, and nearly spills the files everywhere. He storms off muttering:

“You freak. You absolute freak of nature. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Someone later tells him:

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention — Harley sleeps with his eyes open sometimes. Like a damn owl. Don’t worry, he’s just like that.”

🫵 You + Harley: Teasing Him About It

You’re probably the only person who can get away with teasing Harley about this without getting your arm bitten off.

“You know, that’s not normal.”

“And?”

“You look like a haunted doll when you do it.”

“Perfect. That’ll keep the idiots out of my lab.”

🧸 Your Favorite Pranks (Because You’re You)

Putting googly eyes over his eyelids while he’s asleep.

Taking a photo and texting it to him with the caption:

“Sleep tight, baby owl 🦉❤️”

Quietly creeping into the lab, placing a plush toy in his lap, and whispering:

“Don’t murder me, Mr. Sleep Demon. I come in peace.”

One time, you tried to make his hand hold a pen while he was in that weird limbo state, whispering,

“Write down your nightmares for me, I’ll turn them into bedtime stories.”

He woke up mid-sentence, muttered “You’re annoying,” and immediately fell back into sleep-mode. (You think.)

🫀 What It Means (Emotionally)

He’ll never admit it, but he sleeps easier when you’re near.

If he falls asleep without his eyes open in your presence — that’s a huge deal.

It means he trusts you enough to let himself be vulnerable. You might catch him sleeping like a normal person if:

You two argued but reconciled and now you’re close. He’s been overworking himself and his body forces real rest. And you physically reach over and gently shut his eyes.

"You can sleep, you know. I’m here. Nothing’s gonna get you."

(He doesn’t answer. But his breathing evens out.)

You might tease him relentlessly, but you’re also the only one who makes him feel safe enough to rest with his eyes closed.