#I need both hands while doing stuff and also can't keep picking it up and setting it down in each room I'm in

[waldau]

softie — choi seungcheol | 890 words | fluff

#melonpan :c also, my need to include marriage in every other fic of mine needs to be studied.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"are you sure it wasn't as bad as i thought it was?"

you stop combing through seungcheol's hair with your fingers. "yes."

"really?"

"yes."

"i mean, i broke a plate, stepped on your mom's foot and—"

"i was there."

"—swore in front of your dad."

"i know, baby."

"promise it's okay?"

"seungcheol, if you ask me that question one more time, i'm going to eat up all of your melonpan."

seungcheol tilts his head up to look at you from where he's sitting on the floor between your legs. he tries to put on his best hurt face. "what happened to cheol? or love of my life? or even...pookie?"

you laugh. "you want me to call you pookie?"

"...no. but anything's better than my name."

"no," you say, resuming combing through his hair and detangling a particularly stubborn clump. "your name is lovely, even if you insist it isn't."

"it's just so...serious. it sounds like i'm going to get scolded."

"it's you. and i like it. but tonight didn't go bad at all, baby."

the thing is, seungcheol's never met anyone's parents before. at least, not since he became an idol. you had been telling him your parents should be more worried about hosting an idol at their place for dinner but seungcheol had been stressing about it for a couple of weeks, worrying about what to wear and what to gift and how to sit, till you held him by the shoulders and very sternly told him to be himself, and nothing more.

he's done just that tonight, and he's landed himself in this predicament now.

"you're just saying that to make me feel better."

you sigh and your hands stop working in his hair again. now seungcheol can't have that, so he turns around and clings to your leg.

"cheollie!" you say immediately, ruffling his hair. he lets go. "what, are you really that scared of what my parents think of you?"

"yes? they're your parents. and i met them for the first time yesterday. what if they tell me to stay away from their only child for the rest of my life because they didn't like my shirt yesterday?"

you fish out the television remote from behind the cushion and toss it into his lap. "show me a fancam of yours while i finish working on your hair. choose one you really like."

that doesn't sound good. why would you ignore what he said in favour of something else? unless—

"did they—"

"choi seungcheol."

that shuts him up. he scrolls through some videos on youtube and picks one he thinks looks good. you pull out a rubberband and gently tie his hair into a ponytail. seungcheol swears you have magic hands, because you've never once hurt him whenever you've volunteered to do his hair.

"done," you say, pushing him a bit forward so you can stand up.

seungcheol groans. "don't leave me alone."

"i'm just...going to get us some water?"

"i'm having a crisis here."

you giggle and sit back down, tugging at him till he climbs up and rests against your chest, both of you watching his videos of choice together. your grip on him tightens even though you don't say anything. seungcheol keeps quiet about it for exactly two and a half fancams before he twists to look at you.

you have a goofy smile on your face, and he feels kind of silly for wishing you were looking at the real life him, and not the one on the screen.

"what is it?"

"what?" you ask, looking down at him.

"you're smiling. at him."

you snort. "that's you."

"yeah, but i'm right here."

your eyes crinkle when you smile at him. seungcheol just feels like he's stepped into bright sunshine after a cold day.

"i was watching some edits of yours yesterday."

"oh. were they any good?"

"really good. but i wonder what your fans would think if they got to know you're the biggest softie in the world. none of that supposed alpha stuff here."

seungcheol pouts, but he can't keep it up for long. he's pretty much at his best when he's with you. you're the reason why he can physically feel his shoulders relax most days. you're also the reason he finds himself smiling a lot more.

"supposed?"

"well..."

seungcheol turns to bite your arm gently. you push his head away, not before pressing a kiss to it. "stop worrying so much, okay? you didn't mess up anything with my parents. do you have any idea of how much my mom liked you?"

"she...did?" 

"yeah. and my dad asked me when we're going to visit again."

seungcheol feels his worries dissipate. you don't look like you're saying it to placate him, but...

"are you..."

"...sure? cheol, my mother literally asked me when we're planning to get married. i think that's enough for surety, isn't it?"

seungcheol swears he can feel his heart beating fast enough to escape his chest. of course he'd love nothing more than marrying you one day, even if it's a long way down both of your futures.

"hm," is all he can say, settling back down against you. he doesn't mind you smiling at the version of him on the television. he's the one who's going to get to marry you, after all.

#this maaaan #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #scoups #scoups fluff #coups #coups fluff #fluff #waldau writes #🍃 — svt

[justlillythinking]

idk where to put requests bc i barely ask for stuff on here but basically my idea was this. neteyam x human reader that is hella funny. friends to lovers type thing where he feels his responsibilities and stress slip away when hes with them. kiss kiss love confession type thing. gn or fem would be cool mookie

neteyam x human!reader imagine

1.7k words

warnings- sfw, mutual pinning, soft fluff, a little angst ? love confessions

also while writing this it was inspired by in love with you by erykah badu and boogie nights/all night by erykah badu

hanging out with the sullys is always interesting, from going on ikran rides to sneaking on missions. when lo'ak says that you should all go on a ride right before eclipse, neteyam is fast to object.

"come on bro, you know dad is going to slaughter us if we are out at eclipse, lets just go tomorrow."

spider huffs before jumping on lo'aks ikran. god, my brother is such an ass, sometimes i just want to slap him so hard he can't feel his face for a week. i give neteyam a look, us both understanding that the only way to keep our stupid brothers in line is to follow them and keep them safe. he helps me up onto his ikran and we take off after spider and lo'ak, soaring in the calm sunset.

after flying for 10 minutes, spider and lo'ak land somewhere in the floating mountains, neteyam and i follow after them. when we touch down, neteyam picks me up and sets me down; something he loves to do to remind me he’s 3 feet taller than i am.

“fucking skxawng”, i mutter under my breath. before i can even turn around to shoot him a dirty look, he picks me up by my waist with one hand, laughing at me kicking him.

“what was that you just said?” he asks, still laughing at me.

i shoot him the dirtiest glare possible, “ i called you a fucking skxawng, skxawng. now put me down before i rip your braid out.”

neteyam laughs and sets me down, walking away like i huff. we both eventually walk over to spider and lo’ak, sitting beside them and admiring the forrest. we all talk and joke around, laughing about stupid jokes and talking about rumors. we eventually get on the topic of crushes, me teasing spider about his growing crush on kiri, neteyam rolling his eyes like lo’ak complains.

“cuz, come on, that’s my sister i don’t need to know that you want to bang her bro. how would that even work anyways, a human and a na’vi??”

i sigh to myself, knowing what lo’ak says about a human being with a na’vi is true and that neteyam and i will probably never grow to something more than just being friends.

little do i know, neteyam is having the same thoughts, wanting and wishing we could be more than friends, when in reality he knows that kissing me is probably off the table because of my exopack.

the conversation between all of us dissipates as we quiet down, all thinking about different things. i stand up and brush my legs off before saying we should head back so we can be home before eclipse. neteyam agrees while our brothers sigh with “do we have too” and “just like 5 more minutes i swear.”

we eventually all start walking back to the ikrans, lo’ak and spider racing each other. neteyam and i trail behind, talking and shoving each other and laughing. i look at him, the sunset shining on his beautiful blue skin and as it gets darker outside his freckles start shining. i realize that my feelings are futile, but it’s hard to be around the most kind, loyal, protective, beautiful man and not get attached.

i sigh, realizing i have gotten caught up in my own head again. when i look back up at him i see him with a sad smile.

“what’s wrong?” i ask.

“it’s nothing.”

“well it’s got to be something, you’re not usually sad for no reason.”

he sighs and says, “really, it’s nothing. we should try to walk faster so we get back before eclipse.”

he starts walking faster towards the ikrans, making me jog to catch up. i grab his hand and stop walking.

“neteyam, please, don’t keep stuff from me. we are best friends, and when we first became friends you promised to always tell me what’s bothering you.”

“stop digging y/n, i don’t want to talk about it right now. i just want us to laugh and talk like usual right now.”

“just tell me so that i can help you and we can go back to normal.”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

“nete please-“

“fucking stop y/n, i’m not going going to talk about this with you.”

i stand there shocked, not used to him getting angry. he walks off and i follow after him, confused as to why he’s so mad. i know i shouldn’t have pushed but it’s not like him to be so sad.

when we get back to the ikrans lo’ak and spider immediately notice that something’s off, seeing the look on neteyam’s face. when spider and lo’ak look to me i shrug and shake my head. it’s awkwardly silent before neteyam clears his throat and says, “ y/n, how about you ride with lo’ak and spider rides with me tonight.”

lo’ak and spider both whip around and look to me, about to complain about how it’s never been this way when i just shake my head. spider raises an eyebrow at me but walks over to neteyams ikran anyways. i walk to lo’aks, waiting for his to grab me by the waist to help me but he doesn’t. i climb up, and go to hold onto his waist, but i stop and hold his shoulders.

neteyam and spider take off first, lo’ak and i soon after. we sit in science for a little before he asks, “so what happened?”

i sigh, “he just seemed off. he’s been more distant and sad lately, but i guess that’s just a journey of him becoming a man.”

“yeah well he has been stressed out about the whole ‘becoming a man and choosing a mate’ thing. it’s not like there’s not 20 girls that would die for him to stick it in them,” he snickers.

“ew come on lo’ak that’s disgusting.”

“i mean, i know who im choosing when i become a man.”

“the hottest girl who wants me, duh cuz. i mean that’s skxawng has always been picky, but now it seems like he’s trying to always want what he can’t have.”

“what do you mean?”

“come on cuz, you can’t be that blind. did you notice when he started getting all whiny earlier?”

“no? i mean after we talked i guess?”

“and we talked about what...”

i pause, trying to remember.

“ummmmm we talked about how you wanted to bang that girl we saw that was healing you and neteyam’s dumb asses, we talked about how spider is never going to find a na’vi that wants his tiny ass but let’s be honest, him and kiri totally have something going-“

“no you fucking skxawng we talked about humans and na’vi, then neteyam got all whiny and shit.”

i pause, “so?”

“so who is the human that neteyam spends all his time with?”

i stop.

“you’re saying that neteyam likes me?”

“YES THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING AND YOU CLEARLY LIKE HIM TOO”

i blush and laugh, “ lo’ak, there’s no way he likes me. you said it yourself, he was like 30 hot girls lined up for him.”

“he totally does like you-“

“he totally doesn’t-“

“but you like him anyways. that’s the point, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not because we all know that you two like each other.”

we ride back home in silence, i think about what he has said. could it neteyam actually like me too? is that why he didn’t want to talk about it with me? i wonder what would even happen if he did, it’s not like we could mate.

when we land at home, i get of lo’aks ikran and thank him for telling me. i walk to my tent and lay down, thinking about how this could change everything. i should probably talk to neteyam about it instead of just mulling it over by myself.

i decide to get up and go talk to him, even though i’m scared that lo’ak could be wrong. i mean, what if i talk to him about it and tell him i like him when he doesn’t even like me back? i stand by his family’s tent, not sure if i should go it on not.

while i’m standing there thinking, i don’t notice that neteyam walked up behind me. he taps me on the shoulder and when i turn around i see that it’s him.

“hi.”

“hey?” he says, nervously scratching his neck.

“i think we need to talk, i was about to go in and ask for you.”

“i told you i don’t want to talk about it-“

“lo’ak told me you have a crush on me.”

he stares down at me with wide eyes. i can see his cheeks turn purple as he blushes and he opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something. i grab his hand, my small one grabbing on to 3 of his fingers. i walk us over to my tent, thankfully lo’ak must have gotten spider to stay away for a little.

when we go inside my tent, neteyam looks so nervous that you would think i’m trying to shoot him. he starts rambling, “ listen i don’t know why lo’ak would tell you that because i don’t have a crush on you i mean, you’re my bestfriend that would be kind of weird right? i mean not to say that you’re not funny or pretty, because you definitely are but even if i did like you, i mean how would that even work, i’m na’vi and you’re human and we probably would even be able to kiss because of your exopack and-“

i cut him off, “neteyam, i like you.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i do.”

“but why me, why not lo’ak? or anyone else?”

i look at the floor, “because i don’t want lo’ak. i want you. i want your smile and how funny you are. i want to talk to you and go on your ikran with you. you understand me like no one else. i see you nete.”

i feel a his hand on my chin, guiding me to look up at him. he hugs me, my forehead on his chest.

“i see you y/n,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

#na’vi oc #jake sully x neytiri #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x oc #neteyam x you #jake sully x you #jake sully x oc #lo’ak fanart #neteyam smut #tsireya x lo’ak #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #avatar way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar x you #avatar x reader #jake sully imagine #jake sully #jake sully smut #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak #lo’ak sully #lo'ak x reader #neteyam x aonung #lo’ak x y/n #jake sully x y/n

[spikedhe4rt]

I need dating Darry hcs. NSFW and SFW

Darry Curtis x Reader Headcanons 🪸🪸

A/N: I hope yall enjoy this, I also have a darry smut coming out soon. My request box is always open!! Love you guys<3

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ You met eachother while he fixed your roof, which your family helped you pay for.

❥ You kept making excuses to come outside and talk to him.

"Hey, Darry" you yelled out to make sure he could hear you from the roof. He responded with a loud "yea?" I smiled at his voice. "I made you lemonade and homemade pretzels.

❥ You started to invite him inside the house and talk more

❥ You were highly upset when he finished your roof, you knew you would miss him.

❥ He asked you out on his last day because he took so much interest in you.

❥ You both wanting to take it slow, because he had his brothers to look out for.

❥ Meeting Soda and Pony, and them taking a liking to you.

❥ Visiting his parents grave with him for support.

Darry gave a sad chuckle as he finished a story about the time his parents bought him his first bike. "They sound amazing, Dare" you gave him a loving smile before a tears ran down his cheeks. "They were. I just really miss them sometimes."

You nodded and brought him in for a hug. Once the hug ended, his lips found their way to your forehead, kissing it softly. "Thank you for coming with me."

❥ Trying to keep a serious face when he lectures Pony over the silliest things.

"Ponyboy, how many times do I have to tell you...you can't leave your stuff anywhere. You left your book on the floor and Soda slipped on it." You truly tried to hold it in, but once he said Soda fell, you lost it. Wheezes came out as you tried to control yourself. You were met with the eyes of shocked and mildly offended Darry as he stared.

❥ You calming him down with kisses.

❥ Holding hands when you walk together.

❥ He will fix anything for you. He basically refuses to ever let you hire a maintenance man because he claims he can do it.

❥ Thinks about what you like when he buys groceries.

"Since when did any of us like Pringles, Darry?" Pony asked with a face of pure confusion. Darry grabbed the can of salty crisps from his hand "Y/n likes them, tell the rest of the boys not to eat them either" Pony nodded to his older brother, smiling at the fact that he cares enough about you to do that.

❥ Random slow dancing when you guys get bored. It seems cheesy to others but it makes you guys feel like the only people in the room.

❥ Him randomly picking you up just because he can.

❥ You running your hands along his abs under his shirt when you guys sit together.

❥ You two always making sure Johnny is safe and taken care of.

❥ Him promising that he will put a ring on your finger one day.

  ✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ He loves any physical marks on you both. Hickeys, bite marks, bruises, scratches make him go crazy.

❥ He loves how much bigger he is so he can bend and take you how he needs to easily.

❥ Is strong enough to keep/hold your hips down while he eats you out and overstimulates you.

“Im gonna cum!” I panted out for the second time tonight. My hips bucked up into Darrys face again, as continued too suck my throbbing clit through my high. Two hands snaked around my thighs, making he secure as he continued. “Give me a couple more, hon”

❥ Will not cum until you have at-least once because he puts you first.

❥ Takes his stress out in the best ways, the bedroom

❥ Burys his face in your neck and moans when he cums.

❥ Grabs your chin to force eye contact when you can't look at him.

"Look at me, baby." Darrys fingers were thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your head was over his shoulder and tucked into his neck, trying not moan out loudly. "Please-" your words were cut off when you felt his hand on your chin, making you look him. "You look so pretty like this. Keep looking at me, just like that." His words made you whimper, grinding into his thick fingers.

❥ Loves to cum on your ass after taking you from behind.

❥ He will whimper while getting head from you.

❥ Holds your hips and bounces you up-down when you get tired when riding him.

"Fuck, Darry!" you panted out, grinding your hips down on him. "Im tired, Dar" your movements came to a halt as you tried to catch your breath. "I gotchu, hon. I always do." His large hands came to your hips and slowly moved you up and down on his cock. "Faster please" you moaned out as your hands came down to steady yourself. "There you go, baby. Such a good girl for me"

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

#darry curtis #darry curtis x reader smut #darry curtis x reader #darry #darrel curtis #the outsiders #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #dallas winston #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders smut #the outsiders fluff #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons

[just-jordie-things]

If possible, could you please do cuddling headcannons? Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to or can't for any reason at all

remember to drink water and take breaks <3

YES YES YES I CAANNNN also i need to start incorporating choso into these brainrots ok so pls feel free to send stuff specifically for him if y'all have thoughts and ino too i love him sm

gojo satoru

sleep cuddler and there's no escaping from it

he's happy with being the big or little spoon, happy if you wanna lay on his chest, he doesn't care how it happens but he needs it mkay

hopefully you don't overheat bc if you try to scooch away from him he will be heartbroken

he likes to tease about it but really he just loves the feeling of you falling soundly asleep in his arms. loves how you snuggle into him in your sleep

fushiguro megumi

likes it when you rest your head in his lap.

whether he's reading or finishing up a report, it's comforting to have you there. sometimes you scroll through your phone and sometimes you go straight into a nap, he doesn't mind what you do. he just likes to have you close whenever he can

one day you make him lay on your lap while you're both lounging on the couch and he probably laughs at you when he complies

but then he settles into your thighs and you run your hands through his hair and he's out like baby in minutes

so now it's your guys' thing <3

itadori yuuji

likes to have you on his lap

it's his favorite thing to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his chest. it's so warm and comfortable

will set his chin on your shoulder as you watch a movie or something

definitely whispers in your ear one minute but then is yelling at the tv the next. the whispering is sweet though

kisses your cheek a lot too, you're just so close he can't help it

inumaki toge

prefers to smother you a bit

it was a joke at first, the night he climbed on top of you and went boneless just to hear you laugh

but it was actually so comfy for the both of you that he sorta just stayed there. like a heavy blanket.

wraps his arms around you and tucks his face into your neck and snoozes

he loves feeling your heart beating against his chest. it's the most comforting thing in the world

okkotsu yuuta

if he could have you on top of him 24/7, he'd gladly accept it.

can only sleep if you're on his chest. not just your head, either. your whole body.

he will not be content until your legs are a tanlged mess and your hair is messily sprawled out across his chest.

he needs easy access to kissing your head a million times throughout the night

this goes for casual cuddling too. you're watching a movie together? get on top of him.

if he can't actively lay down, he'll just pick you up and hold you against his chest, just high enough that you can't touch the ground and have to cling to him

when he's on missions away from you, he sleeps holding a pillow against him, but it's not the same :(

kamo choso

likes being a little spoon AND I'LL DIE ON THIS HILL OKAY

he's never been held before he had no idea the amount of comfort having someone's arms around you could feel, and i think he'd be shy about it at first but once he's more comfortable with asking for what he wants, he'll ask for it all the time

you press so close, warming up his back with your chest and pushing your feet between his legs just to get closer

loves when it's late and you're whispering to one another, how you press your lips to his spine and shoulder blades, or rub the tip of your nose affectionately against his skin.

with your arms wrapped around him he can easily hold both of your hands in one of his, and he always keeps them close to his chest all night

takuma ino

finishing off strong with big spoon lover

holding you is the greatest part of his every day, and he's not afraid to tell you. he'll text you on particularly rough/slow days just to tell you how he can't wait till you're in his arms again

if you get into bed and don't automatically settle against him, he will drag you into his embrace. there's no getting out of it

always tucks his face into the nape of your neck, smelling your hair and kissing your skin as he quietly tells you how much he missed you all day

wraps his arms around you and holds you tight against his chest all night. he can't stand to be apart from you anymore than he has to.

#satoru brainrot #megumi brainrot #yuuji brainrot #toge brainrot #yuuta brainrot #choso brainrot #ino brainrot #gojo satoru x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #inumaki toge x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso x reader #takuma ino x reader #jjk #jujtusu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Tell You The Truth, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: She's been dating Rafe for a week and Y/N can't help but notice the way all men on campus seem to be avoiding her.

Masterlist

It’s been a week since Rafe and Y/N started dating and she has noticed something strange happening around campus. Everywhere she went, men would keep a distance from her as if she put on men's repellent every morning. She can’t seem to figure out why. 

She was running a little late for class because Rafe was enjoying being wrapped up in her embrace as he napped, so as she entered her lecture, there were very few places to sit. There is one seat wedge in the far right at the back of the class. It is between two boys, but she has no choice because she doesn’t want to interrupt the class by going to the front. She apologizes as she makes her through the row. Her bag swings off of her shoulder and she makes sure she doesn’t hit anyone by accident. As soon as she is settled in the seat, her neighbours on both sides look over at her and panic seems to pass through both of them. She thinks nothing of it, continuing to get her things out of her bag. Almost simultaneously, both boys get up from their seats and move to the front of the class, leaving Y/N confused as to what happened. She puts her nose near her armpits and she doesn’t smell bad, so she doesn’t know why they would leave. The professor begins the lecture and she shakes it off. 

———

After class, she decides to go to Starbucks to get Rafe his coffee and a snack for herself. She walks into the store, waiting in line for her turn. The man behind the counter works pretty fast and the line dwindles in a matter of two minutes. Y/N is waiting patiently for her turn. The customer in front of her moves out of the way and allows the cashier to see Y/N. He holds up a finger to her, disappearing to the back. A female employee comes out to take Y/N’s order. He must have gone on break she thinks to herself, but as she waits for her items, she notices the male cashier returns as soon as she is helped. Odd. She also can’t help but notice how a male employee makes her drink, yet another female one hands Y/N her stuff. 

———

The next day, Y/N is in the campus library, looking for a book for class. Her eyes skim the different plays, but she doesn’t see the one she needs. Needing to head to class soon, she approaches one of the student workers for help. “Excuse me, could you help me find The Crucible, please?” she calls out to him. He continues to push the return cart, not turning in her direction. He must not have heard her. She tries to catch his attention again and is ignored again. Maybe, he is deaf, so she runs in front of him to visually catch his attention. When her body crosses in front of the cart, he looks at her quickly and heads in the other direction, leaving his cart behind. Her blood boils. He is clearly avoiding her like all the other men on campus and she is tired of wondering why. 

She runs after him, gently grabbing his arm to turn him to her. “I know you heard and saw me so why didn’t you stop to help?” she scolds. A dark look crosses her eyes while a scared one appears in his. He scrambles away from her, almost tripping over himself. “I-I shouldn’t be talking to you. Ask your boyfriend,” he stutters as he runs to his cart. Her arms rise and fall to her side. This is all so frustrating. What could Rafe have possibly done now?

———

Her class finishes early, so she decides to go to Rafe’s room like she has been doing for the past week. This time, however, she has a bone to pick with him. Rafe sits on a beanbag with Topper beside him. They are both focused on the game of Call of Duty on the TV screen. “Hey, Angel. How was your day?” he asks, pulling his attention to Y/N while Topper just nods to acknowledge her and goes back to playing. Rafe can see the annoyance in her eyes and pauses the game, much to Topper’s dismay. “What’s wrong?” he worries, rushing to her side. She steps out of his touch, “How come when I asked the librarian why he ignored me, he said to ask you?” Topper knows where this conversation is going and stands up. “I just remembered I need to write an essay.” The couple waits for him to leave the room before continuing the conversation. 

“I don’t want anyone else telling you lies. So let me tell you the truth, Angel,” he says. She gives him a motion to go on. “I may have made a campus-wide announcement that if any guy bothers you, they would have to deal with me. I guess people are taking it seriously.” She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Of course, they took it seriously. You’re Rafe Cameron. The last time you made a school-wide decree you put someone in the hospital.” Rafe nods, thinking back to that night. “Right, that may not have been my best moment. But I promise, Angel, I just told them not to hurt you. I didn’t say to avoid you like a pariah. They must have gotten the wrong idea,” he guesses. She takes his hand in hers, “Well, you have to fix this. It makes me think something is wrong with me when guys randomly switch seats just because I sit next to them.” “I will. By the end of tomorrow, everyone will treat you normally,” he promises while kissing her temple. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron series #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx fanfiction #outer banks rafe #outer banks x reader #obx

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 18.

Summary: Love as seen in the stars, in the flowers that bloom, in your best friend's eyes, and in the taste of him on Oliver's tongue as you catch him in the bathtub. Summer continues at Saltburn.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; vouyerism, dom!reader, handjob, bathwater as lube, cumming almost untouched, pervert/enabler dynamics. I cannot stress to you enough that both the reader and Oliver are COMPLETE AND UTTER FREAKS ABOUT FELIX in the bathtub scene.

A/N: 6670 words. this chapter is very special to me for a lot of reasons, but mainly because there have been several scenes that i've been writing for a while now that have all found their forever home in this chapter. if you have any feedback or thoughts about this chapter or the story so far, i'd always love to hear them! also something something bath water something ;o)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Things were easier to navigate now that you understood Oliver. Or at least you thought you understood. Less fucking around with Farleigh and Venetia in Oliver's peripheries; when you put yourself on display, it was as an extension of Felix. If Felix had noticed the change, he hadn't commented on it. Considering how much effort you put in making him feel good and moan like a whore for Oliver's benefit, he probably appreciated it.

Things with Oliver himself were getting better by the day too, it seemed. More and more he was reaching out for you again. Sitting too close, sharing your space, seeking you out when his time wasn't filled with Felix. There's less tension too, on the nights you share in the lilac study. Oliver's been through the book you'd given him on the Estate, and has moved on to picking out books he'd found on your bookshelf, it seemed. You, having quickly identified the flower he'd mentioned as the honeysuckle, native to Australia, had also moved on to books from your Summer reading list for your upcoming year at Oxford. As the first week of Summer is coming to an end, it seems as though Oliver had finally settled in at Saltburn.

"Do you miss your room?" Oliver asks one evening. Without even looking up from your own book, you give a fond laugh, shaking your head.

"It was more just a formality half the time," you tell him with an easy smile, "a place to keep my stuff." Looking at him beside you on the sofa, you see he understands the implications, the holidays you and the others have reminisced about, the trysts masquerading as something much more innocent that you would share with them all when you were at the Estate. There's nothing judgemental in his eyes, there never was when it came to Oliver, "why?"

"It all just feels very much like you in there," he offers, gaze wandering as he speaks, "Felix's room feels very You-And-Felix, and I get bits of him in your room too, but it feels much more you." You're actually rather surprised by how well you understand what he means, "like up on your roof you've got these little stars. They glow. I didn't notice them the first few nights."

Your smile widens, all bright and warm, and you close your book.

"Do you want to have a sleepover, Ollie?" You ask with a childish kind of glee. The offer seems to take Oliver by surprise, but you lean forwards, "like an actual sleepover, like we're kids again."

"You still do just sleepovers?" Seems to escape Oliver without him quite meaning it to, and for a moment your expression does falter a little.

"Yeah," you can't help but feel a little self conscious, "promise I'm not trying to seduce your or anything," then, shifting your legs from him you shuffle back to sit cross-legged on the sofa, "we actually do them kind of a lot, or, well, I do. I think Farleigh and Ven have a few and I know when they get tipsy Ven and Fi have had a few. Sometimes after events when we were teenagers we'd all head back to one of our rooms and end up all passed in the same bed trying to fit in like sardines, all four of us."

"That's very cute," Oliver says softly after a long moment of silence, and when you finally meet his gaze again, he's smiling.

"Yeah," you grin once more, "we were."

Which is how you ended up back in Oliver's room, back in your old bed, looking up at the canvas that made up your ceiling, stretched across the full length of the room, rigged and taught, littered with a constellation of glowing stars. Oliver, laying still beside you, asks about it, and you have to explain that there was no way in hell you would ever be allowed to mark the actual roof of any room in the Saltburn Estate. Which he realises makes a lot of sense once you say it out loud.

"But you should see Felix's ceiling, it's much more impressive," you tell him softly, not even aware how your smile was coming through even in your words. Oliver, bedside you, was simply quiet as he gazed at the glowing dots, "haven't you ever looked up at the ceiling in Fi's room?"

"Not properly," Oliver admitted quietly, and the silence lapses out between you both for several contented seconds, "did you two do this?"

"I did," you said proudly, "and this is just from what I had left over."

"What do you mean?"

"About this time, uh," you considered for a long while, trying to remember the full context of the stars that littered both yours and Felix's ceilings, "seven years ago I think, Felix pretended to have gotten really into astronomy as an excuse to always be out of bed, out on his balcony at night."

"But... he wasn't really?" Oliver's head shifted on his pillow to look at you and your amused smile. You shook your head.

"He picked up smoking from Venetia, she was bribing him with cigarettes to hide both her own habit and the fact that she gave it to him."

Oliver shifts beside you on the bed, no longer content with looking at the stars you'd placed there, interested, it seemed, only in watching you.

"How old was Felix?" He's looking at you, clearly listening and invested, but he seems distracted by something.

"Fourteen," you sighed, "Ven was fifteen, which really isn't much better -"

"And how old were you when you picked the habit up from Felix?" Oliver asks with the faintest, knowing quirk of his lips. Embarrassed about how well he seemed to know you, your whole face scrunched up momentarily, "fourteen?" Oliver teased when you refused to answer, grin widening as you squeezed your eyes shut. Still, he went on, "so when you say Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago to hide his smoking habit, you mean you and Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago?" And this is when you feel Oliver's gentle fingertips touch your flustered face. His fingertips beginning to glide so gracefully along your features, as you relaxed into a simple, embarrassed smile.

You really weren't trying to do anything untoward with him tonight, you weren't lying about that. Still, you wouldn't rebuff any kind of gentle affection he had to offer.

"Well, yeah," you admitted, and Oliver makes a noise for you to continue as he seemed to be wanting to map each delicate feature on your face through touch alone, "but Fi ended up really getting into it. Went through this whole big astronomy phase that year - I say that year; he still really into it - but back then, it was..." you closed your eyes, letting yourself be immersed in the memory of how excited Felix had been. Felix was always a beautiful sight to behold when he was passionate.

"Little Felix," Oliver mused fondly, "bet he was desperate to be an astronaut." Oliver touches you like you're porcelain, so delicate and precious, his fingertips skimming your cheeks and brushing your eyelashes.

"Actually," you laughed a little, though not unkindly, at the memory. Opening your eyes, you turn just enough to be looking at Oliver, to catch the adoring look in his eyes as his hand stilled, now simply holding your cheek, "he wanted to be the guy who got to give speeches about the stars and planets and the universe every day at the planetarium," you recounted, "and become a Doctor of Astronomy so he could make the videos they play in the room with the domed roof that you get to lay back and watch in the dark," you grinned, "but also then he could still be the guy who gave the speeches, but he'd get to answer questions about his own movie about the universe as well." After a moment of silence, Oliver smiles so widely and genuinely; you know he can see it so clearly, "he'd be so good at it, wouldn't he?"

"He'd be cute," Oliver agreed softly, fondly.

"So for his fifteenth birthday, I spent weeks designing and figuring out how to rig this piece of canvas across his whole roof, since I couldn't paint or mark his ceiling, what with this being a heritage building," you explained, proud little smile on your face, "and I asked my nan about all these paints and fancy pigments and stuff that would last and would glow in the dark, because nan's a painter and she's always had this gift with like, making her paintings look like they glow," you turned to Oliver, expression so adoring, "but Fi turned fifteen while we were at boarding school, so the very next break we had, I convinced him to spend the first week visiting Farleigh and his aunt in America, while I was back here, spending night and day on this. I had the whole canvas stained navy, and nan even stayed here for a few days to help me with painting it all perfectly and making sure all my paints would do exactly what I wanted them to, and we painted this canvas-ceiling I'd set up for him to look like his favourite starscape at the London Planetarium." Giving a loud, contented sigh, you added almost as an afterthought, "there's probably a bunch of the print outs of references I used somewhere in the study; the Planetarium people were so lovely."

"Is that why Felix is doing a physics degree?" Oliver practically gasped like it was a revelation; right, you forgot Felix rarely bothered to explain anything about his academics to anyone. When you confirmed as much, Oliver seems somehow more shocked, "I never got the impression that he thought much of uni." It's... not an incorrect observation to have made about at least half of Felix's academic career.

"He gets weird about it, about talking about it and stuff, thinks he sounds like a nerd," you agree after a moment, with a fond laugh, "he's got this weird mind for physics and anything really related to space and stars and astronomy, but he'd rather complain about the electives that he takes despite knowing he'll hate them."

"Then why does he take them?"

"A lot of them are actually my core subjects," finally you admit, a little abashed, "he knows I'm not as fond of my course as he is of his, so he takes them out of solidarity and complains the whole time." You're pretty sure Oliver can hear the sickeningly sweet undercurrent of I love him, I love him, I love him in your tone, but you can't help it. Neither of you have much more to say on the matter, but you think you know what Oliver's thinking. Something about favouritism, about best friends, about how he's pretty sure that Felix Catton wouldn't do that for anyone else.

And he'd be right.

"Hey Ollie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I move closer?"

"'course," his voice is warm and soft and before you even move he's coaxing you closer to him, arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

"Thanks for letting me sleep over," you yawned, but the affection in your voice was sincere. A chuckle rumbles through Oliver's chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Thank you for suggesting it."

Oliver's warmth is familiar and foreign all at once. How is it that you could have missed someone so much despite only having spent one night beside him.

However the following morning, over breakfast, Elspeth gives you a reminder about an upcoming event that you'd been trying desperately not to think about.

"Y/N, darling, I just thought I'd remind you about the Arts Collective dinner we'll be hosting in a few days," her voice is carefully neutral as she brings it up. You freeze, "Duncan needs to finalise the numbers today so the kitchen can start figuring out what we need to order. We'll be gathering in the fairy garden for drinks and canapes beforehand." What she's really trying to ask is if you'll be in attendance considering your mother's name is on the guest list. Before you can properly answer, however, she turns to Farleigh and asks if he's still intending on joining the garden portion of the gathering.

"As usual, I will I'll indeed be showing my face for wine and cheese," he says, though his smile is tight, "at my mother's behest."

"I'll be taking dinner in my study that night," you force a smile at Elspeth, and she gives you the same kind of look that was so often directed towards Pamela. Pity. Sympathy. You poor, dear, thing, I understand. In a moment, however, she brightens once more and asks if Oliver would like to join the pre-dinner gathering, or if he'd simply like to attend dinner, dismissively assuming that both of her own children would be forgoing the garden themselves - she'd be right.

You can feel Felix looking at you as you return your focus to your breakfast, but you remain uncharacteristically stoic for the rest of the meal. As your plate is taken away, you try to shake your negativity, looking up and around as you ask if any of the others have plans for the day. Swimming, reading, lounging around; leisure, as always. But you feel as though you'll get lost in your own head if you don't do something with yourself today.

So instead, you find something suitable to garden in, and spend a good deal of the day in your garden, uprooting all of the purple pincushions in preparation. It's satisfying to be working with your hands, satisfying to be ripping the flowerless stalks up by the roots and disposing of them in a bucket to later be composted. You'd brought your iPod and little speaker and make a day of it in the garden, waiving the staff off who offer to help, only asking them what the garden needed that day.

You till the soil you'd just disturbed, mixing fertiliser in in preparation for the plants due to be arriving in a day or two, and water the rest of the plants in both rings. You take great care, admiring each flower in bloom, and even the more utilitarian ivy that curled across the latticed archway of an entrance.

Some of the staff members bring you food and water throughout the day, and for each one that does, you invite them to stop and sit and talk for any time they had spare. All seem surprised by the invite, and even moreso when you seem to know them by name, and how eager you are to ask them about themselves. They also all seem grateful to get off their feet for a few minutes.

Duncan sits very awkwardly opposite you at the picnic table. He does not touch the food he has brought you, even as you push it to the middle of the table, as an offering. Duncan does not ask questions. Duncan has never much liked speaking unless spoken to. But still, you know he's more than willing to refuse a request for company such as the one you'd made, so you take the kindness for what it is. He watches you down the bottle of water he'd also brought like your life depended on it.

"How long has it been since you last applied any sunscreen?" He does finally broach the surprisingly comfortable silence. He'd provided you with a tube of the stuff as you'd announced your intentions to spend the day gardening, and now it sat at the other end of the picnic table with the gardening tools. You promise to reapply after you'd finished your lunch, but smile at him warmly. He gives one of his awkward smiles back, and asks if you need a hat, which you decline.

"Your mother has confirmed that she will be in attendance with the Arts' Collective," he says, and you go still, "what would you like to be brought for dinner that evening?" The confirmation stings, but you know this is Duncan's way of showing he cares about you. You get to pick your own dinner, unlike most other nights, and he won't subject you to the cruel anticipation of wondering just whether your mother really would or would not be in the same house as you.

Trying your best to smile, you let him know that you'll think about it, and get back to him tonight. With a faint nod, Duncan stands smoothly, and leaves the garden once more. He'd always been good to you, in his own way.

By mid-afternoon, you've done all you can, and head back to the house to soak, and perhaps even have a sulk about the upcoming event, in the tub until you had to get ready for dinner.

Except Felix doesn't even knock before he bursts into the bathroom, already in his suit with a bottle of champagne in his hand. He's practically radiating joy as he informs you that he and the others had managed to get their hands on several bottles of champagne and are going to hit the tennis courts before dinner.

Black tie tennis and getting absolutely shitfaced sounded great right about now. You were already feeling pretty recovered from the day seeing as you'd spent over an hour in the bath already, so much to Felix's delight, you agree to join them with a delighted grin. From somewhere behind him, Venetia also orders you to wear something flashy.

"If you're in a black suit too I swear I'm going to scream!"

Which is how you end up in your bright red suit pants with the red, silk paisley embroidery, and matching suit vest, buttoned up, with nothing beneath it. It's also the kind of thing you can move in, throw yourself around in, which is perfect for how the five of you play tennis.

Champagne bottle in one hand, tennis racket in the other, the sunset paints you all a joyful gold. Swapping in and out on all sides to play even games, you find yourself forgetting everything that had been weighting you down, instead drowning in your friends laughter. So often your gaze is caught by Oliver and Felix, cheering, drinking, playing. Love swells in your chest at the sight.

You all share giggles over dinner, and while Elspeth and James and Pamela can all clearly tell that you're all already drunk, the way the five of you are all grinning softens their exasperation.

After, not wanting this rather fantastic evening to end, you end up on one of the many balconies or patios, you're not sure which, sharing a sofa and several cigarettes, and the last of a bottle of champagne with Felix. He's got his head in your lap, pointing out constellations, but all you can see is him, the stars shining in his eyes and wide, excited smile he always got when he was rambling about something he was passionate about. Good how you loved his passion; you wished Oliver were here to see him like this. Of course Oliver loves him, and of course he's desperate for Felix to love him back; to be loved by Felix was -

"You're thinking about Ollie, aren't you?" Felix's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you can see he's grinning up at you, nothing but affection in his eyes.

"I'm thinking about you," you corrected, carding your fingers through his hair.

"You're always thinking about me," he says it so easily, so dismissively, throwing the idea away despite how vain it would sound if it weren't rather true, still he takes on a teasing tone, "you get this look about you when you think about Ollie," he reaches up and pokes your cheek.

"He loves you," you give a contented sigh after a moment, expression turning soft, of course he does, how could he not? But that's also kind of a given.

"And you," Felix's jabbing finger turns to a gentle hand holding your face, "that's why we're being absolute sluts, isn't it? Trying to get him to make a move?" And you laugh, loud and bright, in agreement. But then, after a moment, there's a change in Felix, something in his eyes. It's not jealousy, but it's more serious than before.

"Fi?" Your voice is soft, and he smiles at you, overwhelmingly adoring.

"I've been getting to watch you fall in love," he said gently, incredulously, "how weird is that?" Something tightens in your chest.

"Again," you correct. Felix gives you a vaguely confused look, but you can't help but shake your head at your beautiful fool of a best friend, "you get to see me fall in love again, Felix." You roll your eyes, but as he's hit with the implications of your words hit him, a beautiful flush works its way up his cheeks. He actually has to cover his face with his hands, embarrassment and joy lighting up his expression.

"You're so sappy," he crows, "you are so fucking sappy!" You practically cackle with glee draping yourself over him, onto his chest, the two of you awkwardly wrapped up in each other on this little sofa. As your laughter dies down, you give a faint hum.

"But he's not your competition, for the record, he never really was -"

"I'm not jealous! I've told you that!" Felix insists, "I thought I made that clear!"

"You have, Fi," you laughed, "but what I'm saying is... well, he knows I love you both, and he loves me, but he's not -" ever going to love me the way he loves you, God, you can't say that. It takes the last bit of self restraint you have to bite that back, shifting to get a little more comfortable, you reach out and stroke Felix's hair.

"Fi, I have spent months watching him fall so in love with you, the way I often hope, or," you laughed a little self conciously, "feared, the rest of the world would," and slowly Felix uncovers his face, those big, brown eyes of his full of all kinds of hope and affection, "he was never your competition, Fi, he's mine," you joked.

"Oh," the flush on his cheeks only grows steadily darker, and the faint exclamation comes out as more of a breathless gasp, "Ollie's your competition for..." He grins sheepishly, like he just wants to hear you say it.

"You, Fi," you tell him with an affectionate grin, but for it up with a nonchalant shrug and teasing smirk, "though competition implies that either of us would make you choose."

You would never let him know the full truth. You'd let him believe wholeheartedly that while you both loved Oliver, he reciprocated that wholeheartedly. Which was... mostly true. True enough that it kept Felix happy and you happy enough.

Yes, Oliver loves Felix, and therefore loves you by extension. Only you knew how sharp that distinction really was.

But you realised Felix was right; he was watching you fall in love with Oliver, and you too had been watching him fall for the boy as well, even if it did seem to be a slower process than it had been with you. You reasoned that Felix had far more reason to be cautious with his heart, especially with men. The first and last boy you'd seen him fall in love with broke his fucking heart at Saltburn, you knew part of him was terrified for history to repeat itself. But clearly he couldn't stop himself from falling in the end.

It was a waiting game now, either Oliver makes a real move and proves his love and loyalty to Felix, or Felix makes a real move and proves to Oliver that his affections are entirely, overwhelmingly genuine. So you'd be the proxy when you had to be, something a little safer for them both while they built up the courage.

Though you're not above stressing this tension that's building between them. The bend before the break, how far it would go before it snaps and you can all stop dancing around this thing that you all clearly want.

And an opportunity arises in the days that follow.

Saltburn creaks it's own kind of melody, it always has. You've become used it, learned the ebb and flow of the house and it's noises, the way it settles itself as it cools from the Summer afternoon heat. You know which door is shutting in the rooms adjacent to yours and Felix's just by the sound of the latches alone, and you know all too well which floorboards squeak along the halls you frequent.

On Felix's balcony, winding down for the day with a book as he takes a bath before bed, you don't hear the creak of the little hall between Oliver's room and the bathroom. The blinds are drawn over the bathroom window, but you catch a faint bit of movement in the mostly dark hall and give pause in your reading.

You could barely make out the arch of a shoulder through the break in the blinds, but you could tell that beautiful, bathing Felix had himself a captive audience. Part of you wondered if it was by chance or by choice, if Oliver was watching or simply listening, and if Felix knew either way. He'd have to; there's no way Oliver was adept enough at moving through Saltburn silently that Felix hadn't heard that awful floorboard that creaked right before the bathroom door.

Oh there was purpose to this, you were sure. Felix knew the feeling of Oliver's gaze upon him, the want he so callously toyed with, seeing it in Oliver's eyes all too often. All the world's a stage for Felix Catton, you just wonder what kind of reaction he's trying to pull from tonight's audience. Settling back in with your book, all you can do is wait.

When you hear the water start to drain from the tub, you still take your time, give them both time for anything to occur, before you feel a sense of disappointment or defeat in your heart.

"Can I come in and brush my teeth yet?" You knock loudly at his door and hear Felix laugh on the other side.

"Since when do you knock?" Wrapped in his robe and sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Felix is drying his hair with his towel as you come in. Before you can answer, he follows it up with, "since when did you care if I was in the bath for that sort of thing?"

"It's called respecting your privacy, Fi," you tell him, swanning past him to get to your toothbrush. You do give pause, however, stopping in front of him, and he lowers the towel, as if in anticipation. For a moment you lift his chin, loving the way he grins in almost sappy anticipation, and you give him a quick peck on the lips before you're moving on again and he's back to getting the water from around the edges of his face and ears.

Oliver, who'd watched the whole exchange after slinking into the bathroom from the opposite door, looks quickly at himself in the mirror as you join him in collecting your toothbrush.

"Do you want me to start respecting your privacy?" There's half a joke in Felix's voice, since it's a strange sentiment for you both, especially at Saltburn. Oliver's gaze flicks to you, then to Felix in the mirror.

"If I needed privacy I know you'd respect it," toothpaste on your brush, you leave Oliver's side of the bathroom to join Felix, the two of you having devolved from a real conversation, into some kind of silly, mock-conversations entirely consisting of eyebrow movements, and trying not to choke on your laughter as you brushed your teeth.

Oliver was watching, of course, Oliver was always watching, but you kept noticing the way he'd glance at the bathtub as it continued to drain between the three of you, stealing focus. There was tension in his shoulders, in his gaze, in the way he held himself. Never turning away from the sink - you'd bet he was hard. Oblivious Felix - at least that's how he appeared - was doing nothing but the most mundane bathroom task, which still wasn't able to help Oliver's current state with the way he was glowing, content and beautiful in the steamy bathroom, hair still slick and curling and clinging to his beautiful face.

You watch Oliver swallow hard in the mirror, but then his gaze meets yours. In this moment you don't do anything, you barely acknowledge what you saw, but you see the rapid way he starts to blink as he looks away, as if hoping he'd imagined the look in your eyes.

You finish brushing your teeth in silence after that, only stopping to wish Oliver good night after Felix does, the two of you closing your door to the bathroom.

"I'm going to finish my chapter then I'll be right with you," you tell Felix with a warm smile, picking up your book on the balcony as he yawned loud and wide. He tells you there's no rush, that he'll be out in only a few minutes. True to his word, after a long day, his deep breathing starts to take over not too long after the lights go out.

Except for the one in the bathroom. Just as you'd expected.

You turn out the lamp on the balcony, and move quietly through the darkness. Yes, you know the way Saltburn creaks and moans, know how to make yourself known, or how to slip through the shadows like you're made of them. The old house is well maintained, the hinges on doors don't creak if you move them right, you can slip into the role of observer with ease if you know how.

Behind you, you close the door almost all the way, making sure the latch sits flush with the door for privacy without it's click of proper closing giving you away.

The water is still draining from the tub, Felix's water, and Oliver there along with it. The running water echoes through the old pipes, but not loud enough to cover the lewd noises you hear from the bathtub. The slurping, the moaning, the grateful sighs of contentment to be afforded this moment of perversion.

You let him have his moment. Then you let the door click shut.

Immediately Oliver sits up, panic on his face; he looks like he wants to say something, to explain himself, say anything, but he can't seem to find the words. It's like he was expecting Felix. Or even if he was expecting you, he was expecting judgement. When you remain quiet, remain observant, you watch his panic fade to something wary.

Why? You knew exactly what he was doing, why are you just standing there, watching him? You can see the questions in his eyes, and feel your heart rate pick up. Slowly, you move towards him. Slowly, you let yourself smile.

Oliver sits back in the tub, never taking his eyes off of you, the way you stalk around the space, predator and captured prey, caught red handed. Your fingers trail the lip of the tub, graceful, threatening, until you get to him, his shoulders pressed against the porcelain. His expression is taut, defiant, ready to push back against any kind of mockery or blackmail attempts, you assume.

No, you want him to relish this moment.

You curl your fingers in his hair, leaning down by the edge of the bathtub to make sure he finally sees how pleased you are by this development. The moment he realises, you can see his thinly veiled panic turn to a conflicted kind of desire. But you don't give him another moment before you crash your lips to his, wasting no time, licking at his lips to deepen the kiss, to taste Felix on his tongue.

And you climb into the bath with him, sitting on your knees between his spread legs, mouth on his like you're desperate to devour each other. Oliver is pressed against the edge of the bath, one arm along the edge, the other braced beside him, his mind still catching up to the moment even as he gasps into your mouth.

You break the kiss, the faintest hiss from your kiss-bruised lips being all he needs as a reminder to be quiet. Everything about him has changed, has become needy, pupils so shiny and dark with lust you could lose yourself in him. Instead, you let go of his hair, taking his jaw in a forceful grip, tilting his head to the side roughly, fingernails digging into his cheek. But his eyes flutter closed, choked kind of whimper escaping him, half muffled behind your hand over him mouth as you carefully angle his head back a little further.

He'd indulged himself in Felix's bath water, pressed himself into it, tried to lose himself in it, and the remnants of those moments of extasy clung so delicately to his skin. You take your time, kissing delicate drops of Felix's water from Oliver's beautiful features like a lover, temple to cheekbones down to his jaw. When you finally relax your grip on him, his head tilts enough for him to meet your gaze. Oliver is yours, totally and completely at your mercy. Good. Once his gaze moves to your mouth, to the pleased, hungry smile you wore, he couldn't look away.

With your hand trailing down his body, teasing against his ribs and belly until your nimble fingers find their way beneath the elastic of his pyjama pants, he tries to meet you in the middle, tries to kiss you, but that's not how this game goes.

The hand you'd been using to brace yourself over him pressed against his chest, pressing him back against the porcelain, and you go with him, your cheek pressed to his, lips by his ear, his heavy breathing, desperate panting in your own. The hand on his chest finds his necklace, entangling two fingers in it until it became tight enough that you could feel the hard way he swallowed when you finally wrapped your hand around his achingly hard cock.

"Good boy," you purred into his ear as you worked your hand up and down his cock, already leaking precum into his boxers. Oliver bites down on your shoulder to muffle his moan, and you have to fight to keep your own whimper quiet. The two of you find a rhythm, panting echoing in each other's ears and Oliver's hips rocking to meet your hand each time.

When you move away, Oliver looks momentarily despairing - no, please, don't stop! - in his eyes, but you reassure him with a languid kiss as you ease his pyjama pants down enough to properly free his cock. Now, when you sit back on your heels, he watches you with a dark kind of want in his eyes. Like a cornered animal, unsure of what to expect, but full of anticipation nonetheless; he watches you reach behind yourself to the drain, to the last remnants of Felix's bathwater still clinging to the metal and porcelain. You gather as much of the liquid as you can across your fingers, palms pressing into the mostly diminished puddles.

You can see it when Oliver realises what you're doing, the way his eyes transfixed on your hand as you wrap it around him. Already slick with his own precum, your hand glides with the remnants of Felix's water. Oliver's head drops back against the edge of the tub, mouth open and desperate and gasping, his eyes closed. God he's gorgeous like this.

He coaxes you up to him this time, and you let him, press yourself to him, rocking gently along with the movements of your hand and his hips, close enough to fucking to tease you both. For all this was about Oliver, every part of you felt alive and on fire with need, and seeing him like this, getting him into this state and knowing how he looked at you, how much he wanted you in this moment, it was doing things for you. Fantastic things.

When he gets close, he wraps an arm around you, hand holding the back of your head in a far firmer grip than you'd been anticipating. But there's a thrill about it, about how he holds you so tightly, his lips by your ear as you obligingly speed up to meet the frantic pace of his hips.

"Felix~" he keens, a desperate whimper in your ear amid dizzying, gasping breathes, hot against your neck. And again, Felix's name pulled from Oliver's lips like a desperate prayer for only you to hear. Something about hearing it tips you over the edge, and you realise how close you are in this moment. All it takes is you making the faintest whine, a noise of encouragement -

"Felix, please," Oliver gasps, and your breath catches as you see stars behind your eyes. You barely feel it when Oliver sinks his teeth into your shoulder once more, his orgasm hitting mere moments after yours, cumming all over your hand and his stomach. Finally, Oliver lets you go, eyes wide as you lean back with the widest, satisfied smile. There's blood on his lips, watching you with this unreadable expression as you sit back on your heels again.

Your head's still spinning, endorphins pulsing through your blood alongside the adrenaline.

Neither of you move for a long moment, still sizing each other up it seemed, at least until you raised your hand. Oliver all over you. You won't be the one to back down; his eyes meet yours and you smile, all satisfied and wolfish as you slowly lick your fingers clean. He's transfixed again, watching the way you lap him up.

No-one's ever looked at you like that, like they're desperate for you to devour every inch of them. But the moment can't last, not outside of your memories at least.

You leave in silence, just as you'd arrived, leaving Oliver alone in the bathtub, watching you like he can't quite be sure it wasn't all a dream. You hope he dreams about this, about your blood on his tongue and Felix's name on his lips.

Except you reach for the door handle only to realise it's cracked ajar. Its closed over, door almost flush and closed, but not quite. Huh. You could have sworn... But you shrug off the thought, slipping back into your room and making sure to shut the door properly behind you.

Pyjama pants and underwear both damp for several reasons, you pull them off and quickly toss them into the laundry hamper. At this moment, you can't bring yourself to bother with anything more than a new pair of underwear before you're crawling into bed beside Felix. Who's on his side.

Huh.

Felix never sleeps on his side because it messes with his shoulders. He's also still, like he's holding his breath. When you curl an arm over him, cool hand resting on his chest, you can feel his racing heartbeat. Finally, his breath comes stuttering out. Pressing yourself up against him, you hum faintly, hand drifting lower, teasingly. You rest your hand low on his belly, between the gorgeous, defined lines of his hips, but refusing beneath his waistband. There comes a faint huff from Felix, but it's indecipherable; he's still on edge, clearly having realised that you'd connected all the dots.

When you speak it's practically a moan, voice low but sharp in his ear as you let your fingers dip lower. What a night it will be to remember, spent keeping your boys happy.

"Fi, you fucking pervert."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[rorywritesjunk]

I have seen no other Who compares with you

Buggy decides you need your own 'look'. Rating: PG-13 to maybe a soft R. I can't help but write some suggestive stuff. Some being the keyword, nothing actually happens but a kiss or two. Warning: None. I know absolutely jack shit about makeup or greasepaint. A/N: Written from @sporadicthingcollection  suggestion! Thank you friend. And this is my third makeup related story and I had fun writing it as well because I wanted to keep it different from the other two. I also wrote this with LA!Buggy in mind specifically. Title comes from "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty.

“It’s all about the brand, babe.” Was what Buggy said before he forced you into the chair in front of his vanity. You wanted to protest, to insist that makeup really wasn’t your thing, but he wasn’t paying any attention at that point, too busy opening the drawers, pulling out several different trays of face paint. You eyed them suspiciously, not sure what the flashy clown captain had in mind for you.

“What brand?” You asked as he looked over the first one. “I mean, what are you planning to do to me, Buggy?”

He set the trays down before turning your chair to face the mirror. Hands on your shoulders, he leaned in with a grin. While you appreciated the makeup style he wore, it was not for you. The bones on his forehead and smudged red color around his mouth was something you liked on him but not you. However, you appreciated the glittery triangles around his eyes and how they accented the stormy color of his irises. 

You sighed in defeat and Buggy pressed a kiss to your cheek, dramatically smacking his lips against your skin with a loud MUWAH!

“First, gotta figure out your style.” Buggy said as he pulled away. “Can’t have you copying my look, of course, but maybe a look to complement it.” He spun you around in the chair so you faced him; he braced both hands on the arm rests as he leaned in towards you, your noses barely touching as he squinted, studying the features of your face. “You don’t really have a… gimmick.”

“What, warming the captain’s bed doesn’t count?” You asked, leaning towards him with a pout. This wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing. It wasn’t like he was insulting you, but Buggy was definitely dancing that fine line of you’re great, but- with how he was trying to figure out your makeup style, or the brand as he thought of it. 

His lips curled up into a smirk. He pulled back and reached over for a tray. Once the cover was removed, he grabbed a brush and looked over his color options. Looking at you once more, he took the tip of the makeup brush between his lips, his tongue wetting it as he twisted it slightly to get a pointed tip of the bristles. You couldn’t help but watch him do that with both a mild fascination and some level of arousal. Why is he using his mouth on the makeup brush when he could be using it on you?

He dragged the tip over a dark orange color, a shade you would see among the trees during autumn. Carefully, he raised the brush to your face, lightly moving the colorful tip from the corner of your mouth and to your cheeks, tracing a clockwise swirl on your skin. He repeated the action on your other cheek, though with a counter clockwise design. He bit his lip and tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied his work so far. Both sides looked even, which was important. He couldn’t have you running around with mismatched makeup after all. He had his reputation to think about. How would it look if someone on Buggy’s crew had poorly done makeup? 

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Nodding in approval to himself, he picked out a sparkly green shade next. You tried not to make a face, unsure where he was going to use that color. Your lips? Hopefully not because you had a feeling this little bonding moment you were having was going to end up with you on your knees in front of him and you really didn’t want to see him with a green dick at all. Around your eyes could work, the light would catch the glitter and make your eyes pop. Would he put it on your nose? He was sensitive about his own, and you doubted he would do anything to draw attention to your nose when he never wanted that kind of attention.

Buggy grabbed a different makeup brush, the tip going into his mouth once more before dragging it over the green color on the tray. Without a word he began dabbing it across your forehead, right above your eyebrows. You sat still for this, pleased that he was being gentle and that it wasn’t a stabbing motion you were half expecting from him. His brow furrowed and he shook his head, mumbling something before licking his thumb and wiping it over your forehead, trying to remove the green grease paint from your skin.

“No, no. I don’t like that look.” He said out loud with a sigh. “The orange swirls, yes, so maybe… leave the forehead alone. Accent the eyes and cheeks.” He crossed his arms, a hand lifting to rest on his chin thoughtfully as he studied your face with narrowed eyes. It was a little uncomfortable to be under such scrutiny, but he was the one doing all of this. You were just the canvas for his creativity at that point.

He reached out and tilted your chin up, eyes still narrowed as he concentrated. Instead, he took the first makeup brush and sucked on the tip once more, wincing at the bitter taste of the grease paint. You tried not to roll your eyes before reaching out to place your hand on his hip, tired of not touching him as he stood so close to you. He reached down to touch your hand, letting his fingers dance up your bare arm lightly before pulling away to resume his artistic creations on you. 

“Why don’t you have a glass of water or something for the brushes?” You asked as he ran the brush through the green grease paint once more. 

“Because I didn’t think that far ahead, babe.” Was his response as he handed the tray to you to hold. You took it as he took your head in his hands, tilting it back slowly as he stepped in between your legs. Okay, you saw no reason to complain now. You held the grease paint tray in one hand while the other hand stayed on his hip. He was close enough you could feel his breath on your face, but just out of reach you wouldn’t be able to lean up to kiss him without completely disrupting what he was doing, and while you loved teasing him and egging him on, you also knew when to back off. He was focused on your makeup and if you messed it up you may regret it because Buggy could be petty. He would hold off sex for as long as he was able to (only a day or so most likely) but you didn’t want to risk it.

From the corner of your eye, he tapped the brush lightly, leaving a trail of green dots along your skin and moving up to your temple. He seemed satisfied with the right side, so he repeated the pattern on your left side. Nodding and mumbling, “Yea, that’s exactly it” he dipped the brush into the green paint once more. He tilted your head again, leaning in closer as he started to draw a teardrop shape under your eye. It tickled just a bit and to your credit you didn’t budge, but when he tried to do the next eye you had to pull back just for a moment. 

“Babe.” He sighed as you reached up to carefully rub your skin. “C’mon, let’s get this finished.”

“It tickles!” You whined at him. “And not in a good way.”

“I’m almost finished.” 

You pouted at him again and he rolled his eyes. The novelty was wearing off, and you didn’t know if you wanted to keep indulging this much longer. He pulled back and sighed loudly, dropping his arms to the side as he looked down at you.

“Let me finish what I’ve started and we’ll do something you want after.” He offered. “I’m almost done, so let me finish.”

“Whatever I want?” No longer pouting, you now grinned up at him, a twinkle in your eye that told him you already had an idea of what you wanted to do, and he knew that once he was done with your makeup, it was going to end up smeared across the bedsheets and pillows. 

“Yes, whatever you want.” He retorted as he tilted your head back once more. “Now stop moving or else.”

“Mhm, that’s what you said last night.” You said cheekily. He glared down at you before touching the brush to your skin again. He took his time, wanting to ensure the teardrop matched its mate. He set the brush down and studied your face, his hand on your chin as he turned your head from side to side, making sure it was perfect.

“Getting there.” He muttered as he reached for the red lipstick now. Oh, no, was he going to use it on you? You tried to pull back but he gave your chin a squeeze. “No, you’re almost done. Another few minutes.”

You let out a whine before sinking back into the chair. He touched the pointed tip of the red pigment to the curve of your upper lip, tracing the shape carefully before ending at the corner of your mouth. He hummed in appreciation as he did the other side, admiring how the red popped with the orange on your cheeks and the green around your eyes. He had wanted your look to complement his, not be a copy, so when he applied the lipstick to your bottom lip, it took every ounce of strength not to smear the lipstick around your face like how he wore his. 

Except you were growing impatient. The second he pulled the lipstick away you reached for him and pulled him down, your lips on his as you kissed him. He managed to pull back, sighing in mild frustration as he brushed his thumb over your lower lip.

“You’re going to ruin all my hard work, babe.” He said with a pout. “I like what I started.”

“Okay, but how about we take a break and start something else?” You suggested as you reached for the front of his pants, grinning up at him. The lipstick was smeared around your mouth, no doubt around his as well, but the orange swirls and green dots were starting to work for you. Maybe lipstick wasn’t the look for you, but he had time to think of alternatives.

“Mhm, I suppose, but we aren’t done yet.” He chuckled softly. “Gives me some time to think of other ideas for you.” He reached down, his hand cupping your face as his thumb went back to your lips. You parted your lips just enough for him to push it into your mouth, earning a sigh from your captain as he closed his eyes. “I’m going to give myself plenty of time to think.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x you #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #prompts

[goodday-goodmorn]

Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

———————————————-

Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You… You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

#reader insert #fanfic of a fanfic #fiction #bruce wayne #platonic yandere #Dad Bruce wayne #i can’t believe i’m posting this #this is very self indulgent #inspiration #Wrote this after reading some of Blugh’s stuff late one night #fanfic #Erm- Blugh if ur seeing this hi? #platonic yandere batfam #Darker undertones #(?) kinda #dark themes #not super tho

[earthstellar]

Earth Music on the Lost Light: Human Music That Cybertronians Like

we know for a fact that the Lost Light has access to human media, primarily movies, TV shows, and music-- and we know they generally seem to fucking love most of it, or at least find it interesting

but what would everyone's tastes be, in regards to Earth music?

time to talk about music for a long time!!! strap in, enjoy some tunes

we already know Cyclonus has impeccable taste and enjoys some of the best jams the 80s had to offer.

I can't help but imagine Rodimus being given a media archive of Earth tunes to approve for the Earth Dance would only result in chaos

(it's not like he would say no to anything, he absolutely blanket signed it all, it's just an obligatory thing-- or Ultra Magnus tells him it is, solely to keep him away from Important Captain Things that he would rather handle himself or hand off to Megatron, lmao. the shit that really needs to get done)

and this is how Rodimus discovers the somewhat questionable yet amazing genre of "mid-90s underground techno rave mix tapes"

(somewhat related, I still think Testarossa might as well be Rodimus' theme song, although it's not a 90s track and has more of an 80s synth vibe)

Rodimus would love that "computers are the future, fuck yeah let's make Digital Cool Future Music" mid-90s shit, there is no way he would not. it has the exact energy level that appeals to him and is also cheesy and weird and chaotic. and has like 500 different sub-genres, so his selection is endless, lmao.

he would probably find it cute that this is what humans imagined to be the peak of "digital sound" at the time. like lmao this was the best humans could do when asked to create music that sounds like it was made by robots or other mechanical space future cyber lifeforms--high concept!!! he would probably find it interesting and endearing. this is what organics think non-organic music is like!!

anyone acting as DJ at Swerve's on any given night would be so, so mad that Rodimus keeps requesting shit like "DJ MASSIMO ITALO DISCO BEST RAVE TUNES LIVE FROM LONDON 1995" or "DJ ARMPIT SLUDGE FEST HOUSE-RAVE-DRUMS N BASS SET 1996" for them to play, lmao

not individual tracks. the whole album. entire mix tapes of random, somewhat questionable mid-90s techno house rave bullshit.

that having been said, that good ass early 90s trance techno might send him into a spiral depending on his mood at the time, lmao (it's been known to happen)

but at the same time I can imagine him sharing tracks like Solar Quest - Space Pirates with Drift and they'd both just sit there and jam out, but quietly, thinking about shit while sitting in a port window next to each other (this was peak sleepover party techno, Back in My Day-- many deep conversations were had while listening to stuff like this, lol)

Drift would probably find some of Rodmus' recommended stuff to be pretty good for meditation-- although once he finds out about the human drug culture involved and certain concepts of experimental consciousness etc. that surrounded techno/rave and other related genres, it might cause him to pull back a little bit

(until he finds out about kandi culture, in which case, Drift would love the idea of hand-made unique bracelets and sentimental trinkets being made and exchanged at warehouse shows purely out of Good Vibes and Love for Fellow Beings and it turns out actually he fucking loves this shit, a chill vibes based "expand your mind" kind of music subculture appeals to his Spectralist sensibilities and he likes sharing tunes with Rodimus in return)

Drift picking tracks on his own would likely lead him down more of a classic rock road, but more of the chill side of things, more of the folksy type of classic rock -- I can see Drift really enjoying Spirit in the Sky - Norman Greenbaum or California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas. or like, Incense and Peppermints - Strawberry Alarm Clock.

I mean, Drift might even go Full Earth Hippie and end up liking Green Tambourine - Lemon Pipers, lmao. in fact I am fairly certain of this.

I can see Drift loving Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In - The 5th Dimension. the whole vibe would probably appeal to him.

he'd quite possibly also like I Need a Dollar - Aloe Blacc, but it hits him in a place that still hurts to think about. so it's in rare rotation.

meanwhile Ratchet would probably be fine with classic rock too, like the good Dad Rock shit, just a lot of tracks from the 70s/80s -- a couple tracks he and Drift could probably agree on would likely lean more into the experimental/psychedelic rock side of things, like White Room - Cream or something like Wheel in the Sky - Journey

Rodimus tries to troll Ratchet by recommending Old Time Rock n Roll - Bob Seger, but joke's on him because it turns out Ratchet loves it, lmao

Swerve would go all out on classic bar jams for the evening playlist. Chill, good shit like Do It Again - Steely Dan.

Megatron would love Sinnerman - Nina Simone; He'd send it to Drift in a command crew level secured data packet, and they would both feel the hell out of this song. They don't need to talk about why. They never mention it to each other.

Megs would also probably love These Old Bones by Dolly Parton (mostly due to the lyrics, rather than the upbeat tune, but he would find it relatively relaxing), as well as 9 to 5 (of course), and similar music. Country from back in the day when country music was more about the struggle of poverty and the working life of rural people. Country music from back when songs told all the untold stories. He can respect that.

He'd listen to You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive by Patty Loveless and it would get him right in the fucking spark. Megatron is the Cybertronian equivalent of an Appalachian miner, god dammit. He understands.

Megatron would also like Johnny Cash; He would overthink Ghost Riders in the Sky and it would depress him, partly because it reminds him of Seekers... sigh.

I think he'd also like Cold War - Janelle Monae. He'd be way into good lyrics; What's being said in a song matters most to him. "This is a cold war, you better know what you're fighting for..." Indeed.

anyway I like thinking about what jams Cybertronians might like from their available selection of Earth tunes

#long post #transformers #maccadam #maccadams #idw drift #idw 1 #idw transformers #mtmte #lost light #idw ratchet #idw rodimus #idw swerve #idw megatron

[ki-ka-katsuki]

Keigo doesn’t like it when he can’t see your face while the two of you are intimate. He loves watching your every reaction to his touch, the way your mouth contorts in pure sensuality when his nails dig into your skin, often trying but failing to hold back your moans. Or how your eyes overflow with tears every time he goes too far with the teasing — for which he’s always sorry, but also a little excited.

One night, however, when you suddenly felt all brave and curious, you chose to entrap your man with a slightly different proposal from what you're used to, for once just lying down in front of him with your pretty butt on full display. A silent, but very obvious invitation.

You had no idea where that was going to lead to, though.

...

Keigo is completely losing it, panting heavily against the back of your neck, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as he pounds you from behind, forcing your stomach deep into the mattress with every thrust. "Keigo—!" you cry out, dizzy, pleasure choking your sore throat, and the man is so possessed he doesn't even register the slight panic in your tone. He's beside himself with frenzy. And it’s all your fault.

"Fuck, fuck, Y/N," he groans, just barely able to avoid his voice from cracking. He lowers his head further down into the crook of your neck, messily latching on any part of your skin his lips can find. You didn't think it was possible, but somehow he manages to pick up the pace even more.

"K-Keigo I— shit, s-slow down!"

He doesn't hear you. Can't hear you. There's just this high-pitched, white noise growing higher and louder in his mind, leaving him deaf to your desperate calls for attention. Later, he will apologize for it a thousand times, or however many times you will find suitable, but right now, he's too far gone.

The blond holds his breath, caging you underneath his working body with strong arms. He’s got a firm hand on your hip to keep you right where he needs you to be, his ruffled wings waving in synch with you for leverage.

Honestly, he didn't think this would feel so good.

Between breathy curses and sloppy kisses, it's the way how Keigo's chest and abdomen continuously rub against your arched back that eventually sends the both of you over the edge. It makes you feel incredibly hot and so damn close to each other, and apart from all the lewd stuff, it is really the comfort of such closeness that allows you to just let yourself go and fall into the abyss of rapture. Together.

As you cry out your lover’s name one last time, Keigo empties himself deep inside your core, rope after rope, never once letting go of your squirming body — not until the waves of his intense release subside.

A single feather lands beside you, its soft filaments caressing your burning cheek along the way, and it comes to rest on the back of your hand, still trembling from how tightly you had to cling to the sheets.

"Kei..." you mumble into the fabric, catching the soft feather between your fingertips.

You're heavy — is what you want to tell him, since you find it hard to breathe underneath his weight, but the words don't come out. Instead, you find yourself savoring the moment of your worn-out boyfriend panting in your ear, completely spent and exhausted as he lies on top of you, not ready to part just yet.

But the sweet, whispered row of apologies follows soon after. Of course it does, because Keigo is the last person to forget whenever he’s been a bit too much to handle for his pretty babybird. So he props himself up, turning you to face him, and showers you with a bunch of soothing kisses to make up for any kind of discomfort he might have caused you. It’s the least he could do, right? After all, as a hero, it’s his duty to make sure you’re properly taken care of.

© @ki-ka-katsuki. do not repost or plagiarize.

#mha #bnha #takami keigo #hawks #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #smut #takami keigo smut #hawks smut #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha blurb #hawks fluff #bnha fanfiction #incorrect quotes #manga panel #romance #lovers #couple

[littledata]

I know you’re probably working on those prompts, but I, too, just ended up on North Sea tiktok, and if you have time, I’m curious what Ava’s reaction to that particular algorithmic destination would be. Because like, Bea’s the most capable person ever, but those waves are Very Big, and why isn’t everyone tethered to the boat at all times??

(From the on that dizzy edge universe. An example video if anyone would like context.)

For a long time, Ava's TikTok experience was predictable. It mostly went: hot girl biting her lip, hot girl playing guitar, hot dude baking a cake, weirdly mesmerising crafting video, drama about people she'd never met, hot person kissing another hot person.

The number of straight-up thirst traps has been on the decline recently though - mostly because Ava just has to turn her head and Bea will be changing her shirt or using a hammer or standing perfectly still, all of which is a lot hotter than any video she's ever seen. In its infinite wisdom though, The Algorithm has seen her scrolling past those videos and decided it needs to fill the void with something else.

That thing, apparently, is North Sea TikTok.

They're lying in bed when it happens for the first time. Beatrice had spent the first few weeks after she came home insisting they should try to maintain separate bedrooms, move their relationship along at an orderly and appropriate pace, but she pretty quickly gave in to the allure of spooning and her bedroom defaulted to being both of theirs.

Now, before they go to sleep, they often end up lying side by side while Beatrice reads one of her insane books about lesbian necromancers or whatever and Ava scrolls TikTok or reads fanfiction about hot people falling in love in coffee shops and stuff. It makes her feel mature and settled and safe in a way that's sometimes so exciting she has to take Bea's book out of her hands and make out with her about it.

Anyway, so they're doing that (lying in bed, not making out) when it shows up on her for you page. It starts with the weird, slow sea shanty, then there's the huge waves, and then someone is getting slammed in the face with the fucking ocean.

Ava lets it loop. Then she lets it loop again. Then she taps on the suggested search north sea tiktok and she's presented with a thousand more videos exactly like the first. People falling overboard and huge waves crashing over ships and and and -

"Bea." Ava taps her arm insistently.

Bea looks up from her book without much concern - she doesn't use TikTok but she does submit to being shown Ava's curated favourites. Also, she's wearing glasses and she looks super cute.

No, Ava, don't get distracted.

"Bea," she repeats and holds her phone up to her face.

Beatrice watches with a scrutinising gaze. When the video finishes, she says, "They really shouldn't be filming in those situations, it's distracting them from proper safety precautions."

Ava stares at her. "That's all you have to say? They could have died."

"Possibly," Beatrice agrees. "Once someone falls overboard it's very difficult to recover them, although certainly not impossible. And it depends a lot on the kind of ship. I assume someone wouldn't post a video where someone died though."

Although Beatrice's naivety about what people are willing to post on the internet is adorable, Ava's mind is stuck somewhere in between the words overboard and impossible. Even Beatrice, careful and capable as she is, couldn't keep herself from being swept off her feet by some of those waves. Ava can picture her so vividly, disappearing under the surface.

"You're not making me feel better about this."

"Oh." Beatrice blinks in surprise as if she has only just realised that they aren't having a purely practical discussion. She puts her book carefully down on the nightstand. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't lie to you and pretend it isn't dangerous. Those are cherry-picked clips showing the worst though, it isn't always like that."

Which, yeah, okay, Ava already knew it was dangerous. For all the months that Beatrice is away she lives with the low-level, prickling anxiety that the next call she gets will be telling her Bea is hurt, or worse. It's different seeing it though, seeing how quick it is, how powerful -

"How often are you in the north sea?" she asks, as if that's the only problem with it.

Beatrice winces, "Well, it depends. The contracts I work - " She explains something complicated and lengthy about shipping and demand and the company she works for and Ava thinks she's the most interesting person in the world but this stuff is, also, a little bit boring and she's still pretty busy picturing her girlfriend's imminent death.

She needs to send these videos to Camila. If there's anyone she can rely on to overreact with her, it's Camila.

"Ava," Beatrice says, seeing that she's lost her. She tugs Ava's phone gently from her hands and puts it down next to her book. Then she wraps one arm around Ava's shoulders and the other around her waist and pulls her in close.

Ava has always loved being hugged by Bea, even before they got together - she's strong and solid and lets Ava hold on for as long as she needs to. (Also, she smells fucking amazing, like, all the time).

It wasn't until they started dating that she realised Beatrice had been holding something of herself back though, not letting herself relax entirely whenever they touched. Now, it's as if her whole body sinks into it, like some tension evaporates the moment Ava's arms are around her.

Ava pushes her face into Beatrice's chest and inhales, lets herself hide there in the fabric of her shirt for a moment. It's dark and warm and hard to worry about anything.

"I promise I do everything I possibly can to come home safe to you," Beatrice says into her ear, "I'm sorry I can't give you any more reassurance than that."

"Okay," Ava says, voice muffled against Beatrice's chest. It's not enough but it has to be enough. This is Bea's job, the thing she loves more than anything else, and Ava won't ever touch the sanctity of that. "I'm still going to worry about you."

"I know." Beatrice presses a kiss into her hair and pulls back, "I worry about you too though, when I'm gone."

Ava rolls her eyes, "The most dangerous thing that could happen to me is Lilith finally snapping and turning on everyone she loves."

"So fairly likely then?" Beatrice asks.

Ava snorts, "Like a 90% chance."

They settle themselves to go to sleep, lying down fully and adjusting the pillows and blankets. That's another thing Ava learned recently: Beatrice - her big, tough sailor - likes being the little spoon. She won't admit to that, obviously, but she sighs contentedly whenever Ava wraps her arms around her from behind.

So when Beatrice reaches up to switch the lamp off, Ava does just that, presses herself against Bea's back. She listens to Beatrice's breathing become slow and even, and she clings on.

#extra writing #asks

[horrorjunki3]

Texas chainsaw massacre slashers with a trans boyfriend

Warnings: NSFW, discussion of the female body, dysforica, Canon typical violence, fluff

I'm tagging @maxthompsonjrmalewife because I made reference to there work!:)

Drayton sawyer

Gay panic -> that's it the moment Nubbins brings you in -> I feel like his brothers see this reaction and decide to keep you alive

His such a simp for you, he just loves his boyfriend so much!!

He will never misgender you but he doesn't 100% understand being trans so you might have to explain it

His very responsible so he will always know how long you've Been binding and after care for taping his on it!

His so sweet when you need to do injections he'll coo at you and call you handsome -> he mainly calls you pretty boy or baby boy

Nsfw

His brain shuts down whenever you initiate something -> he has a pretty low sex drive but w his boyfriend doing hormons he probably gets more action then he ever has

Calls you a minx for distracting him from the saw but God your lips feel so good around his cock

He doesn't care If he tops or bottoms as long as you are both having a good time

He gets riled up whenever your walk around in your boxes and a binder - checks you out and can't help wanna fuck on the kitchen table or while his cooking

Chop top sawyer

His loves his trans bf soo much! finds it so hot -> I generally believe chop loves people who are different, unique and unapologetically themselves!

He isn't good at remembering when you starting binding

His pretty good with trans inclusive language

Loves giving you pride pins and stuff

Also shows you off to victims -> lord have mercy if you get misgendered at all in this house all the Sawyers won't have it.

He absolutely loves helping you with injections he probably did some first aid in the war so his pretty good at it -> gives you a kiss everytime it's finnished

If you use Gel this guys a pain he'll always wanna grope you so he gets excess GEL on him and doesn't see the issue

If you ever get dysforia he likes to nest in your shared room with music and lots of cuddles for you! Telling you how handsome you are and how much he loves you

He gets so excited whenever there's development in your transition!

Totally write songs about you being the prettiest boy everr

NSFW Headcannons

Chop loves the contrast between your masculine and Feminine traits

Loves your T dick sooo much! This man would suck you off everyday if he could -> somedays he won't let you leave the beg until your crying and begging from Cummings so much

He a top, and prefers fucking you but as long as his cocks in you he doesn't care who's more Dom or submissive

Loves loves loves cockwarming you, your so warm and wet and your little cocks begging for him to touch it!

Loves if you get more horny when on T -> y'all are fucking like rabbits and he loves every second of it -> bends you over every table and fucks you silly

If you get morning wood omfg this man will gladly give you head of a morning -> infact he will beg to please morsel can he? Your so hard and he just wants to taste you

Nubbins sawyer

This man's so feral for you and is a Stuttering mess

Loves taking photos of you -> loves documenting your transition!!

He becomes a mess everytime you do something 'masculine' -> his attracted to masculinity so if you pick up something heavy or him his a mess!

He can't help you with injections because his hands shake alot -> he does however old ur hand and give you a lil kiss. "No Nubbins you can't have any Gel" -> "No what why are you trying to eat it?!"

His fave part of you is your arms like doesn't matter if they're skinny, muscular or plump he loves them -> loves being held by his boyfriend

He steals all your clothes!!

If you get dysforia he'll drag you off to the house and coo at you -> does all your chores and gets you whatever you need

I feel like all the Sawyer siblings gender you correctly and it's such a safe place for you! No one bat's an eye when you take your shirt off or your not binding -> your a men to all of them and they love you dearly

NSFW Headcannons

He doesn't care If his top or bottom -> nor does he care of him domming or subbing definition of a switch

Regardless of if his fucking you his a moaning mess

If his in a more dominant mood he loves you sucking his dick so much, you look so handsome on your knees for him

He loves you dominating him, his a good boy and you make him feel so good

He totally calls you daddy you can't change my mind

Loves your ass so much! Will bite it and lives fucking you from behind it's such a pretty view can't help but whine and cum over and over

Bubba sawyer

You being trans most likely saves your life -> bubba found someone like them!!

T4T relationship 🥰

They let you wear any of they're clothes!

He adores his trans partner! Feels so connected and comfortable w you like you understand them!

They're very good at helping with shots and aren't a pain in the ass when it comes to Gel like there brothers

Squeals when there's developments in your transition and gives you the biggest bear hug!

I saw a headcannon about this here it is and the artwork (not mine someone else's but it's sooo good!!) That Thomas and Bubba will make binders out of human skin for they're trans S/O and yeah that is cannon idc what anyone says it's cannon

Of you get dysforus bubba gives you one of there shirts -> it's baggy and makes a great dysforia jumper! They will pull you into there lap and run circles on your thighs your so handsome! They just wanna make you feel better!

Loves when you do a stereotypical boyfriend thing to them like bringing flowers! It's so gender affirming for you and them!

NSFW

They love your chest it doesn't matter what size, shape, small large or post surgery -> they'll love it and pamper your chest with kissed and hickies

Don't care If they're top or bottom but he is more submissive

Another one that loves your T dick -> they legit moan whenever they see it please say they can suck it? Please?

They're so gender reaffirming in bed! And always check on you it's soo cute

Please femininise them in bed they love it, makes them feel so pretty!

Loves when you fuck them -> they're such a slut for your cock it's not even funny

They're sex drive isn't to high but they love making there S/O cum so they have no problem with keeping up with you

They prefer slower more sensual sex -> it makes him feel so loved

#slasher simp #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #nubbins sawyer #chop top sawyer #robert sawyer #chop top x reader #bubba sawyer #nubbins x reader #leatherface x reader #bubba saywer x reader #drayton sawyer x reader #drayton sawyer #slashers x ftm reader

[deaconusdelirium]

Readers Unconscious

Alright, it’s been a long time since I wrote for any CoD characters, so forgive me if they seem OOC (but hey, it’s fanfic so who cares?)

—

Request: "I am so excited for the campaign. But I also had a request sent to you in the past, about how the Cold War characters would carry you if you were to pass out. Could I change that to the Task force 141, Los vaqueros and shadow company? Maybe add Woods? Also, they have feelings for the reader but they don't want her to know 👉👈"

You're wish is my command love<3

———

Simon 'Ghost' Riley-

Ghost is used to people being in his personal space. He wants the enemy to know that he's not scared of them especially with how close they are. So he tries to wake you up at first, shaking you a bit, and there's really no time to sit and wait. He was going to just carry you with both arms but he has all that extra equipment on his chest and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. So he kinda just.. pulls you up onto his back, like a piggy back ride. He couldn't care less on personal space in a time like this so he pretty much just lets you take all the time you need.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish-

This man has feral energy. We've seen first hand his level of sarcasm and what his humors like. But he can also be very serious, so when you're out like a light, he panics before trying to radio Ghost on what to do. However he's not picking up and that leaves him alone. He tries to find the best position to pick you up without making it awkward, considering the feelings he's had tucked away for awhile. But the easiest way for him was to just last you across his shoulders like basic training does. He's not the best in stealth so it leaves room for him to reach for his gun without dropping you

Alejandro Vargas-

My man is very very respectful, he doesn't want to touch you in anyway that makes you or him feel weird or bad about it later. If anything, Rodolfo is most likely with him, so he can always ask to have him throw one arm around his shoulder while he grabs the other. But say it's just the two of you, then what? He's straight to the point about things, so he's not wasting any time. He wants to get out of this situation fast, he also wants you to be safe, making him speed up the process. He doesn't wear many stuff, so throwing you over his shoulder will do, so even when you wake up he'll just plant you right back on your feet

Phillip Graves-

Graves is respectful when others are around, but when they aren't, all that, just goes out the window. He probably wouldn't like it when you do pass out, most likely reprimand you later on. But he also can't help but feel bad, he wants to show you he can be caring, so not taking it out on you is him being nice. If anything, he'll have one of his shadows carry you instead of him doing so himself. But if they're all out in different positions leaving just the two of you. He's already somewhat upset and having you unconscious gets a little more on his nerves. Don't expect him to be gentle, he keeps one hand on his gun and the other is grabbing the little handle on the back of your vest and dragging you along. Just be grateful he didn't leave you where you were, that's him being generous

Frank Woods-

I feel like his is pretty obvious, but that might just be me. But remember when Woods had to drag Mason? It's like that, but it's not. He likes you, and the thing you two have going on is something he wants to see where it leads to. He's very touchy feely with you, and has no problem carrying you bridal style, we all know he has a chaotic personality, so carrying you like this is probably the most gentlest way he could carry you in this situation. He somewhat takes it serious within that time, careful not to hurt you or put you in an uncomfortable position. He checks on you every now and then just to make sure you're still breathing

———

Copy and pasted from Wattpad.

Get ready fckrs, this new game has me feeling… feelings

Ghost👀

#Simon ghost Riley #johnny soap mactavish #Alejandro Vargas #phillip graves #Frank woods #call of duty modern warfare #MWII #spoilers #call of duty Warzone #black ops Cold War #cod x reader #x reader

[obey-me-disaster]

Lucifer: A B D H I L M W

I have decided to combine the two asks cause it's for the same character and some letters repeat too!

Warning: NSFW

Lucifer x gn!MC

A=After care

Your comfort is his top priority, especially after he is done with you. His touch is so soft and the way he carries you is so gentle. He usually prefers to run a bath for the two of you to relax. Both for his after care and for yours he loves to relax and take a bath with you. If you feel like any part of your body is sore he will give you a massage while in the bath.

B=Body part

I just know as an angel he used to love his wings. They were bigger than anyone else wings, they were powerfull and beautiful. While he learned to love his black wings for what they are(especially if you pay special attention to them) they are not his favourite part of him anymore. If he had to pick another part of himself, he would say he likes his hands mainly cause they are strong and honestly really nice looking, especially that he holds them hidden behind his gloves most of that times. I headcanon he has a scare over his left hand but even with that, they still look really good.

On you, I feel really loves your shoulders and neck since he likes to leave kisses and marks all over them. He finds it so easy to burry his face into the crook of your neck to leave small bites or to kiss your shoulders whenever he hugs you from behind that he just can't help himself.

D=Dirty secret

He wants you to use your pact on him during sex. He never thought he would be into this sort of stuff but he also didn't think he would ever make a pact with a human so there's that. He really started to think about it after the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup incident, to be more precise, after the "Master, give me an order..." .Yeah, that awakened something in him. The thought of being at your mercy and receiving orders for you turns him on to no end.

H=Hair

Everything about Lucifer is well taken care off and that of course includes his body hair. He takes pride in how he looks and has an image to upkeep, so he will make sure he keeps it trimmed even if no one will see it. He is even more careful about keeping himself well taken care of when he is in a relationship if that's even possible

I=Intimacy

He is actually really intimate during sex. Mainly cause it's he is left vulnerable during it and also considers it a romantic activity. It's not easy for him to let go of his worries and let himself be vulnerable, so he really needs to trust for that. He is also aware how vulnerable you are in the moment so his soft side really gets to shine during these times and he has an easier time expressing how he feels.

J=Jack off

Despite being the avatar of horny He pushes jacking off in the favour of finishing his work so he is often left pent up. Even if he would have more free time, he still tries to avoid doing it cause it never satisfies him properly and he is left frustrated more often than not.

L=Location

Lucifer is an extremely private person, the only places you two are doing it are his bedroom and maybe his study room. Your room is usually a no cause he knows his brothers don't offer you no privacy. At least with his room and study room he knows he will have his privacy and have you all to himself.

M=Motivation

He lives for the time you are assertive and taking the lead. He will even encourage you to keep going and become bolder in your attempts to flirt with him and tease him. Pulling him into your lap is one way to get his attention his intimacy bar did go up when MC did that in the game after all

W=Wild card

He wants you to stop him from working be either bending over his desk and fucking his brains out or tease him with your touches to the point he can't focus on his work anymore. All he wants is to leave his work behind and devote all of his attention to you.

Z=Zzz

This man has shitty sleeping schedule and probably has coffee and demonus running through his veins instead of blood. He is not going to sleep after sex not matter how much you think you can tire him out. He would rather focus on your after care and take his time to relax with you if he has the time for it.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer headcanons #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

[doberbutts]

The other thing I liked about Being Human (US) is that the core cast are all incredibly flawed and damaged people who still love each other at their core and genuinely want things to work even though they make spectacularly stupid choices at times along the way.

Aiden is incredibly easy to trigger due to his laundry list of past and present issues and when he's triggered he doesn't shut down or go quiet. He gets ANGRY. He gets *violent*. There was a joke between my friend and I when we watched over the summer and holidays that he was a big fan of using neck snaps to solve his problems but was startlingly bad at dealing with the fallout except by continuing to kill people to cover up his problems. When he fights with Josh he gets personal, he's so combative and confrontational, and he wears that prickly exterior whenever someone sees through the stone mask and pokes at a fleshy bit a little too hard.

But we also see Aiden break down and cry. We see him sobbing uncontrollably as he loses control again and again and again. Every time he manages to scrape together a bit of happiness before either he or someone else fucks it all up and it blows up in his face. He wants to stop. He doesn't want to hurt people anymore. And he can't figure out how to do it because it's like hurting people and driving them away or killing them is the only thing he really knows how to do.

So many times while watching I would yell "talk to your fucking friends asshole" and he would continue to either shut them out or get close but lose his nerve halfway through and remain silent. He wanted that connection very badly and simply couldn't make it happen. The few times he did open up to Josh or Sally he was well received, which I think was really a bright point in the writing because it showed the audience that the problem was that Aiden couldn't figure out how to be vulnerable due to [redacted plot things] rather than because his friends were jerks.

And overall I think that balanced well with Sally, who's various exploits *also* usually blew up in her face, and Josh, who oscillates wildly between "sad and more than a little afraid of himself" and "picks weird hills to die on because it's literally the only way he manages to feel any amount of control in his life". Josh and Sally both frequently vent about things to Aiden, but he almost never reciprocated until pretty close to the end of the series. He hides things from them, he dodges questions, he finds convenient excuses to not talk about stuff, even when they prod and pry to get something out of him.

He only explains after things hit the fan and everything goes to shit. Usually, because his friends have been there to catch him when he falls, and he has to tell them *something* about why there's so much blood on his hands (sometimes literally) yet again. And they get mad at him, but ultimately they forgive him, because fuck, a werewolf and a ghost aren't really in any place to judge now are they. Even then, it's not usually the whole truth.

(And it's interesting, in the what-if scenario where they weren't there to catch him as he fell, just how bad things got)

But then he's afraid he's going to lose Josh, and he's afraid he's going to lose Sally, and he's afraid he's going to die, and he goes to Josh, and he says "I'm scared, and I don't know what to do".

And Josh stops, and realizes that Aiden has never asked him for help, not really, and has never actually been vulnerable with him, and has always worn the brave and stoic face even as things are melting down at catastrophic levels. And he says, I'm here.

Aiden is such a bad victim and he makes some real stinkers of bad choices along the way but they make sense for his character once you learn about all the shit that's happened since he became a vampire and how fucked up things got for him before he realized he needed out. And he backslides and he backslides and he backslides but he keeps trying because what's the point if he doesn't at least try.

Anyway the hill I will die on is that this show would have done numbers on tumblr if it came out slightly later. Ah well.

[armoreddragon]

how did you first get into making this stuff? do you enjoy it?

There's a lot of possible answers here.

For a couple years after college, I worked at a laser engraving and cutting shop. Leather was a material we knew we could cut, but nobody ever asked for it, so I looked up some basic info and put together some masks as demo pieces. Then I got fired for unrelated reasons, but decided to keep going with the masks on my own. A decade later, I’m still going.

I've always enjoyed making things. The focused calm of working a craft, the challenge of finding the problems that need solving, followed by the satisfaction of holding in your hands something that hadn't exited before. It’s hard to beat that feeling. If you haven’t done it for a while, I highly recommend making a habit of it.

Sometime in college I realized that if I kept making things just for myself, I would eventually run out of both space in my closet and money in my bank account. So I took the best photos I could of what I had, and started posting it up on Etsy.

In high school ceramics class, I had an idea to try and make a flexible dragon skin out of little bits of clay, all glazed differently. I had no idea how to do this. A friend of mine was like "Yo it sounds like you want to look up how to make chainmail for that." She was right.

I work in architecture by day, and the decision to do that was unrelated but definitely related to my crafting obsession. Designing a kitchen, a café, a house, takes months or years of work, most of which is tedious details like picking tile patterns or looking up exactly what order to layer different sealant tapes to make sure the walls are watertight. Designing a crafting project gives me a creative outlet that is immediate. I can sit down for an afternoon and take an idea from a sketch on trace paper, to a final mask formed up out of leather. There's an excitement to that. A reminder that, yes, I can make cool stuff quickly, without needing to sink two years into a project.

For a while I worked to teach myself to draw. I managed to get pretty decent at sketching from life, with a moderate understanding of anatomy and perspective. I liked art, so I thought I wanted to make art. But I struggled with it. If I was drawing something from my imagination, no matter how well I managed to put the lines down on the paper, I would ultimately look at it and just be sad that it didn't exist in the real world. So eventually I gave up on the drawing part, and focused on the part I seemed to actually care about.

I can't envision a version of myself that doesn't make things. I think on some fundamental level, I measure my worth as a person based on what I put forth into the world. I don't know what else to do.

When you decide to turn a hobby into a business, it of course takes some of the delight away. It's no longer something you do when you want to relax and have some fun. It becomes an obligation, to make and ship orders on time, to pack up your stuff and bring it to craft fairs, to track your expenses and file your taxes, to stay on top of the constantly changing social media landscape. But it also lights a fire under your ass. You can't just keep making the same thing you made three years ago–you have to keep making new stuff, keep improving your techniques, keep reaching for new ideas that have never been made before. You lose some of the joy, but you gain a lot of satisfaction.

All through my childhood I filled my closet with little handicrafts kits, that I got as gifts or that caught my eye when following my dad to the art store. Calligraphy, wood carving, weaving looms, boondoggles, spirographs, knitting, crochet, fancy nautical knots, sculpey, and more that I can't remember. After all those different things, I’m so glad that I found a couple specific crafts that really grabbed me, that take enough work to develop expertise, that have expansive enough applications and possibilities, that I could devote a decade or more of my time to focusing on them.

I’d been interested in the furry fandom ever since little fantasy reading teenager me tried looking for stories where the dragons were the main characters, and I found people online who were doing just that. There’s a powerful do-it-yourself attitude that’s baked into the core of the fandom: The world isn’t giving us the art that we want, so we’re going to make it ourselves. I keep having ideas for things that I want, that don’t exist yet. If I want them to exist, I have to be the one to make them.

My dad was a photographer, and I spent many childhood afternoons with him in his darkroom in the basement, delightedly washing negatives, turning them gently over in their canisters of chemicals, sitting still in the dark as Dad unspooled the sensitive film, squinting in the red light as the projected images magically re-emerged on the clean white paper. What could be more amazing, more normal, more right, than having your own little space to work such magic for yourself.

In about 2008 or 9 I ordered my first batch of metal scales, with the idea of trying to make a dragon tail in time for Halloween. It took probably a couple weeks to figure out how to make it, and within a week I had thought of how to do it better and disassembled the entire thing. By the 3rd or 4th time I'd rebuilt it, I thought that it was probably good enough that I wouldn't feel embarrassed to post it online and see if someone might want to buy it.

Of course I love working on these things I make. But I don't think that's exactly why I make them.

#Thoughts #Real Life #creative writing #memoir