#like everyones drawings of eyes are so pretty

[kenntolog]

Imagine cool bf Sukuna loser gf reader where reader is in the art room alone and he joins her and Sukuna initiates make out sheesh with her and she gets so flustered

𝝑𝝔 an: stop this is so cute!! i decided to add a little more details i hope u don’t mind anon!! original post is here, feel free to share your thoughts!!

cool boyfriend sukuna waits for everyone to leave the art class before ever entering the room because he knows his pretty loser girlfriend always comes out the latest.

you never see him coming up behind you as he makes his way from the open entrance and behind the neatly set up marbles to your desk, where you are seated peacefully, singing along softly and gliding your pencil across the paper calmly. your peace is eventually disturbed by his hands suddenly appearing on your shoulders as he pulls you into himself, noticing how you shut your sketchbook quickly and shriek loudly.

you go to push him away until your brain registers his laughter and you tug your headphones down, letting out an exasperated sigh. “‘kunaa! stop doing that, y’know i hate it!”

“heh,” sukuna pinches your cheek affectionately, one arm playfully settled around your neck while the other moves to ruffle your hair. “whatchu drawing there?”

that seems to fluster you as you look up at him and grip your sketchbook tighter, “nothing!”

“liar,” he sneers with a smirk and tries to pull it from your hands, hands that seem a lot more stronger with the way your grip is not easing. “you hidin’ something?”

“no, ‘kuna—”

he doesn’t let you finish, arms loosening around you to turn your chair over so you’re facing him, and puts his hand on your jaw, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks softly, not enough to hurt but enough to hold tight.

you stiffen, expression turning surprised as sukuna covers your slightly pouted lips with his, initiating a kiss. he’s quick with it, knowing how anything involving him showing any kind of affection make you putty in his hand, so he uses it so his advantage. your cheeks heat up under his fingers as you whimper and try your best to respond to him, melting under his touch.

sukuna smiles into the kiss knowingly, going slow and soft as his free hand strokes the back of your head mindlessly, to make you relax further. he sucks in your bottom lip gently, glides his tongue of it seductively before he dives deep once again, opening you up more.

it works wonders and soon enough you drop the sketchbook, gripping his shoulders instead as you try to tug him into you further, but he is an asshole so he bites your bottom lip and moves away with a victorious grin.

you let out a startled sound, looking up at him with shock.

“gotcha,” he whispers as he opens the sketchbook, quickly finding the last page.

“don’t!”

sukuna quickly recognises his figure on the page, eyes widening in surprise. a couple of sketches of his face and one of his body in his basketball uniform. and then he looks through earlier pages, finding himself sprinkled into your drawings even from last year. and his smirk grows mischievous at the realisation.

“this what you were hidin’?” he gazes at you, drinking in the way you cover your face with your hands. “you’ve liked me for a while now, haven’t you?”

you nod your head silently, still hiding from him.

he puts the sketchbook away and steps closer to you, hands coming up to pry yours away, “what a loser you are.”

you look up at him with glistening eyes, lips pouty and bitten by him.

“cute.” sukuna thinks out loud, as he pats the top of your head, enjoying the way you get embarrassed even more, burying your face in his shoulder.

#— miya writes! #i just love him being a menace #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[paper-mario-wiki]

transfems can be women but you are not, you're an agp

(i actually blocked the original person who sent this and then resent it to myself on anon to keep the presentation fitting since i would like to share my perspective on this anyhow. here's what i would have said to this straw-man argument-haver if they weren't already blocked!)

TL;DR: you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP which is because 2) AGP's are exactly as much of a woman as i am.

what meaningful categorization could you put on someone to fit the description of "autogynophile" that precludes them from womanhood without inherently being contradictorily transphobic? "it turns them on to think about being vaginally penetrated" yeah i bet a lot of cishet woman fantasize about that too. "they only changed their identity because they like being a lady so much it helps them get off" okay? and? this is not a categorization which is inherently predatory, so who cares? gender is, irrevocably, an invention. it's a farce. it's nothing, we made it up, that's the whole point of agreeing that people can change it if they say they want to.

drawing a social line by the physical distinctions of "do they have penis or the other one" is as arbitrary as separating people by right handedness and left handedness or the eye color they were born with. the social expectations, behaviors, and woes are a consequence of the fact that everyone has been taught "this is just how it is, and it makes you different in every way, and this is how it's always been, and this is how it'll always be", same as the way people keep using fiat currencies (the US dollar for example), despite them being backed up by no singular tangible thing in any way that matters, aside from the word of the person who controls it.

and sometimes going along with that stuff is fine! i mean not the money, but the other one. the gender one. i like to be called a woman, while also knowing that "woman" is an invention. "pretty" is also an invention, and i love to be called that. "sonic the hedgehog" is an invention that people talk about using the same verbiage they use when describing real, tangible, breathing creatures, despite the fact that sonic the hedgehog exists conceptually and not physically (not including physical representations, which are not the same thing).

i think agp's are also women. if i could read someone's mind and they said "hi im a woman" but i knew they were thinking "im actually a man" i would still say "hello woman" because they might as well have given me their name for all the difference it makes in how we interact moving forward. if someone has no intention or probability to harm themselves or anyone else, i couldn't care less.

all that being said, you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP because 2) AGP are exactly as much of a woman as i am. it is a meaningless category coined by bigots and only given credibility by people with bigoted views.

#anon #transphobia

[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

as we all know, jj is not a fan of cops. so, you can imagine how angry he’d be getting a call that you’re locked up.

it's sort of a game of telephone actually. you called kiara from the jail, pleading with her not to tell jj knowing how he'd react. but, with her parents grounding her from any more involvement in pogue business, she didn't really have a choice. so, she told pope, who immediately told jj.

luckily, your offense wasn't serious, you'd been having a bad day already and decided to go on an innocent bike ride. jj was kind enough to have slipped a joint into your backpack for an occasion like this, which you happily lit up to get your mind off of everything. your mistake was riding through the rich side of the island, some kook must've seen you and called the station to complain about who-knows-what, and the smell of weed sticking to your skin made it easier for shoupe to find you. you complied, letting him haul you in the back of his cruiser while he lectured you about drug possession and public intoxication. must be a slow day.

now you're sat in the lobby of the police station, hands bound together in metal cuffs, resting in your lap. you're barely high anymore, the light feeling in your head replaced by irritation. you hear jj before you see him, and the sound of his booming voice makes your heart sink.

"where d'ya even have her? huh, plumb?" you squeeze your eyes shut, the heat of his anger growing closer and closer.

"you need to relax, maybank." she hisses, rounding the corner before him and stopping at the sight of you. she crosses her arms, almost amused. "she's right here."

your blonde boyfriend stomps in after her, wide eyes searching the room before landing on you. he's disheveled, clearly having been in a rush to get here. you don't know what to do other than to stare back at him doe eyed. deputy plumb comes to your side and hoists you to stand with a hand on your arm, spinning you roughly so she can start to unlock the cuffs.

“alright—let’s make this quick.” shoupe’s voice draws everyone’s attention, a stack of papers in his hands that he offers to jj. “i’m doin’ her a favor, just a written warning.”

jj snatches the papers from him, superficially looking them over and then using them to point at the deputy. “you’re outta your mind, shoupe. i can’t believe—“

“i suggest—“ shoupe cuts him off, and jj’s jaw clenches. “—you kids get on home now. we’ve got some real work to do.”

deputy plumb lets you go, clipping the cuffs to her belt and nudging you toward jj. “and keep the dope on the cut.” you look back at her, keeping your mouth shut as you slink over to jj’s side.

“can count on kildare P.D., ain’t that right?” jj keeps his eyes on the officers, face red with anger as he adjusts his hat and starts walking toward the door. you stick close to him, feeling better attached to his side even if he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “pickin’ on teenage girls — real tough, shoupe. pretty sure y’all got bigger fish to fry, maybe focus on that.”

on the way out of the station, he’s silent. he doesn’t look at you or say a word until you reach the twinkie, where john b is sitting patiently in the driver’s seat. you feel real bad now, realizing you brought everyone into this mess that you could have easily avoided. jj stops at the front of the van, and you follow suit, anxiously biting your lip.

“jayj, i really didn’t mean to cause a whole—“

“nobody’s upset, sugar. relax.” he takes a second to look you over, running his hands down your arms and scanning over your body. “didn’t rough you up in there, did they?”

you shake your head. “oh, no. i’m fine.”

“good.” he brushes your hair over your shoulder, letting his hand linger by your jaw to pull you into a kiss. “least y’got a little street cred now, huh?” a warm smile spreads across his face. you’re relieved, in the end really grateful that your boyfriend came to save the day.

˚❀˚

#my inbox is open! ‧₊˚. #jj maybank #obx #jj maybank x reader #jj #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank headcanon #jj headcanon #jj x reader #jj maybank gif

[givemequeen]

the artist; spencer reid x reader

request: Hello! It’s me again. :) I have a concept but I���m unsure about a plot, if that’s okay. Could you maybe write a Spencer x Fem!Quiet reader who likes to draw? And Spencer always sees her doodling on her papers while she’s bored like flowers and eyes and stuff? And sometimes she draws the team while they’re working but one day Spencer sees her drawing him and he confronts her very politely and she’s all flustered and blushing? I don’t know if it’s something you’re comfortable with, I just like to draw and if I worked with the FBI that would definitely be something I would do if I was bored. 😄🫶🏻 Thanks a ton!!! I love your writing.

a/n: i love spencer sm. i rly hope this is what you were looking for! thanks for the request :)

It had all started with some fun doodling; a couple of fun little drawings here and there when things were slow or during long flights. It hadn't been anything serious. Then, you attempted drawing landscapes; mountains, buildings, anything. Not just silly doodles.

Drawing helped you pass time, you enjoyed it and, if you said so yourself, you were quite good at it. Drawing people had always scared you, you weren't sure if you could get it right so you started with strangers, people on the bus or tram, in long queues, at cafes.

On one particularly long flight to Seattle you had drawn Hotch. His hard stare and furrowed brows as he read over a case made him easy to draw. Then it was Garcia, her bright smile brought you comfort. Then Rossi and JJ and Morgan.

And finally, Spencer, the cutest member. You could definitely see why Morgan called him pretty boy. His soft lips and hair beautifully juxtaposed his sharp jawline and slim fingers.

He was you're favourite to draw. You had around half a dozen drawings of the team by now; some individual, some in groups. But, your best drawings where those you had done on Spencer.

"Wow. You're really good." Spencer voice made you jump, nearly spilling your coffee over your drawing.

He had just gone to the jet's bathroom - you had been careful to hide your work as he passed by you.

"Spence!" you yelped, moving to clean up. "You scared me." you pressed your sketchpad against your chest, hiding your drawing from sight.

"May I see?" he leaned over and stretched out his hand - that gorgeous, slender hand of his. The one you had a couple drawing dedicated to in the very sketchpad he was reaching towards.

"No!" you said, a little too quickly. "I- erm-"

"Oh, that's okay, sorry for asking." he straightened up. "I just... well I thought that was a really good drawing. You made me look quite nice." his voice was soft, no one else could hear you.

Apart from the looks from that initial scream, no one was paying any attention to you two, everyone too immersed in their own thing to pay attention. You looked around, confirming no one was watching, and moved over in your seat.

"Sit." you said, patting the space beside you.

Spencer sat down, his thigh warm against yours, and smiled at you.

"Here." you offered him your sketchpad and hid your face in your hands, too ashamed to watch his reaction.

He opened the first page and oohed. You peaked between your fingers, wondering what he was looking at. It was your very first doodles. He pointed out some and smiled; his revolver, his favourite book, Morgan's headphones, Garcia's pens.

"I really like these." he said.

"Thanks." you mumbled.

He turned the pages, his fingers feeling the bumps and ridges of the drawing. He was particularly fond of the one you did of Vegas' skyline.

"That's amazing." he said, more to himself than to you.

You pulled away one of your hands and leaned over to him. His scent was overpowering in the best way possible; coffee, old books, and that new cologne he had been trying out.

He finally got to the one you made of Hotch. Spencer laughed out loud, looking up to his boss and laughing even more.

"Identical! Same expression." he whispered in between laughs.

"Thank you." you said, a smile appearing on your face.

"Oh and Garcia..." he laughed. "The same smile..."

He passed the pages - the first drawing you had done of Morgan made him laugh again. It had been of him flirting with Garcia; you had nailed his wicked grin.

Finally, he flipped the paged onto his section of the book. The first one you had done of him he had been reading a book, his fingers pressed against the pages and he read page after page.

"Oh wow." he whispered. "That's... it's amazing. You're such an artist. How did you manage it?" he turned to look at you.

"Oh, well, I dunno." you bit the inside of your cheek. He wasn't mad you had drawn him without permission or something? "You like it?" you asked.

"Of course! They're amazing." he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing. I'm really impressed."

You stared at your joined hands and your heart skipped a beat. "Thanks." you stuttured.

Spencer let go of your hand and went back to passing the pages. The next drawing, he had been fast asleep, an open book resting against his chest. He laughed at that one too, making some comment about how ridiculous he looked.

"Well, I thought you looked cute." you whispered, scared he might actually hear you.

"Yeah?" he said, looking over at you.

"Yeah." you said.

Spencer was blushing. He quickly looked away and flitted through the rest of the pages. He was especially impressed by the one of his hands ("wow, I had no idea they looked so..." "beautiful?" "creepy").

He closed the book gently and handed it over to you.

"I'd love to get a copy of some of those, if you don't mind." he was so close to you, you were afraid he could hear your heartbeat.

"Yes- no- I mean, I don't mind. I'll send you the original." you were having trouble trying not to stare at his lips for too long.

"You'd do that?" Spencer asked.

"Of course, since you were such a good subject." you laughed and stared into his soft eyes.

"I'd love to be an actual subject for you one day, since you're so good at it." he moved to stand up and you nearly whined as his warmth left you. "If you ever need a subject, let me know." he flashed you that sweet smile of his and made his way back to his seat.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. It took everything in you not to squeal and dance around like a teenage girl. You pressed your sketchpad against your chest and buried yourself deep into your seat, already thinking of all the poses you could get Spencer into.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #imagine then receiving a package from reid of art supplies with a note or somethinggggg

[manicpixiefelix]

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx

Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶

"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".

"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.

"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.

Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.

"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".

"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.

"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".

"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.

"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.

Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.

"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.

"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.

"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.

"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.

"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.

The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.

Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#oscar piastri blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[chocokayke]

Here's Alkaloid for my Splatoon/Enstars AU! All weapons are referring to their Splatoon 3 kits, because that's what I'm most familiar with. I wanna give a shout out to @mdkm444 for making this fanart that inspired this whole AU in the first place. : )

More info on each character below the cut.⬇️

Hiiro

I'm giving him the highest honor I could bestow on a character... My main.

I think Splatana Deco fits him, and how he sees himself at the beginning. It's a very mobile weapon and aggro with a supportive kit. He can easily strife with opponents to draw fire from his teammates, while also setting up beacons, and setting of tentamissles to displace enemies.

The idea is that he mostly sees himself as his brother's "shield" at the beginning, and I feel like having a weapon that supports and takes fire suits that role.

As he grows and gets more comfortable with his place in Alkaloid, he would pick up more aggressive weapons. I just really like the idea of him with dualies. I think he has a lot of fun zipping around with dodge rolls. : )

He runs a lot of Quick Respawn abilities.

I think his backstory would stay mostly the same, actually.

Aira

He's 100% that guy who draws hearts in the enemy base.

He strikes me as the type of person who would play weapons that are meta without fully understanding WHY they're so good.

He started out playing vanilla Splash-o-matic, but he sucks so bad at Crab Tank. Mayoi thought something more mobile would suit Aira, so he recommended Inkbrush and Carbon Roller to him.

Hiyori wears his eye makeup the same way. This is a very important piece of Aira lore.

Mayoi

Mayoi has the biggest change to his backstory out of Alkaloid. He was originally an Octarian Soldier under DJ Octavio.

He was there for the Splat1 final boss and the Calamari Inkantation. He is NOT Agent 8, to be clear. He escaped after Marina, but before Agent 8. He wasn't in the subway. (But the idea of him in the subway is very fun, and that might be something to explore in an AU of this AU.)

He's a huge Squid Sisters fan.

He first escaped to Inkopolis, but it was too overwhelming for him, and he ended up traveling a lot before settling down in ES.

He plays a lot of weapons, and at knows a lot about the weapons he doesn't play. He's extremely skilled and knowledgeable. He's a fantastic coach, and everyone wants them to coach their teams! (Help him.)

Unfortunately, he is still Mayoi and still has severe anxiety! Despite how skilled he is, he's too scared to play alone and is pretty low ranked. That's why he got his status as an "underachiever."

Generally plays a lot of long ranged weapons to stay as far away from the action as he can. Snipewriter is his main, but E-Liter deserves an honorable mention.

Any closer ranged weapons he plays are more supportive than aggressive. This bad boy can pop out so many Inkstorms and Tacticoolers.

I probably should have added Hydra Splatling to his list instead of Heavy Edit tbh? But, eh, he can play both.

I think Snipewriter fits his main really well due to the fact that it has super long range, paints well, and has a supportive kit. At the time I'm writing this, it's also the best competitive weapon in Splatoon 3.

Tatsumi

His backstory is also similar to his canon one.

His leg got damaged and wouldn't repair itself when he respawned, so he had to get it removed it let it regrow naturally. Squids can do that, don't worry about it. : )

The guy who makes sure your base is 100% inked during Turf War.

Me and my friend both agreed it is extremely funny for Tatsumi to run around with his beginner weapon going like ^_^: so that's what he mains.

Then my other friend recommended me what they call "noob trap" weapons, which is mostly short ranged shooters (Sploosh and Aerospray) so I immediately added those to the list. I feel like they suit Tatsumi, and kind of mirror how inept he is with technology in canon.

Despite that, he's actually quite skilled! He does pretty well with short ranged shooters and has fun playing with them. They're his go to choice, but he's experienced in a lot of different weapon classes.

Anyway, you know how the Sunken Scrolls in Splatoon 3 introduced Squid Jesus--

#splatoon #enstars #ensemble stars #alkaloid #mayoi ayase #hiiro amagi #aira shiratori #tatsumi kazehaya #2024 art #au #splatstars au

[whatitshouldvebeen]

as someone who has self harm scars i was curious. what do you think johnny would think if he saw his s/o (or victim) had some? also i love ur writing so much <3 hope ur staying hydrated and getting enough sleep !!

First tysm for loving my writing!! I have the type of ADHD where I forget to drink anything so unfortunately not but I do get decent sleep ty for asking ❤️ I hope you enjoy the fic and remember, Johnny is not a licensed therapist so please don't follow his suggestions 😂

Scars of the Past

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x reader

Warnings: self-harm, blood, local insane man is certain he can make a girl feel better via knifeplay, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 1,670

Maybe Johnny was stupid for hitting the same place twice after already having picked up a girl, but he had to see if you were still around. You, the girl who checked everyone into the nightclub. The girl he’d been following home for the last week. When you'd taken his hand to stamp it, he honed in on your wrists right away. Scars, and plenty of them.

You were accustomed to getting looks and were used to it by now, so all you did was smile at him and usher him inside. He left a few hours later with a drunk girl on his arm and that was that, or so you thought.

So when the club closed around twelve, you were surprised to see the same tall, dark, and handsome man from last night push himself off the brick wall and approach you.

"Hello, little miss," he drawled as he stopped in front of you while you put on your jacket.

"Oh, hey," you replied, not fully engaged.

"I'm Johnny. What's your name?" he asked.

You glanced up at him and shared your name as you finished fastening your coat.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he remarked.

"Thanks. Listen, I gotta get home now—" you began, but he interrupted by taking your hand, drawing your attention back to him.

"I couldn't help but notice your scars," he said, pushing your sleeve back to inspect the faded white lines. Your gaze shifted to his, noticing a large scar over his eye that you hadn't seen before.

"I doubt you did that to yourself," you responded with a half-smile.

"My ma did it," he said, catching you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

He brushed it off. "It’s fine. But I'm curious, why'd you do this to yourself?" he asked, genuine interest in his eyes.

You looked into Johnny's dark gaze, surprised to find understanding rather than judgment. "My childhood wasn't the greatest," you explained with a shrug.

"Don't most people hide their scars?" he inquired.

"I don't care what people think. I'm in a better place now," you replied, trying to reassure both him and yourself.

“Are you?” He asked, running his thumb over your scars. You didn't know that he'd seen you through your bathroom window, curled up on the floor of your shower, sobbing. You didn't know he'd seen why you called out three days ago, because you couldn't bear to drag yourself out of bed.

Feeling uncomfortable, you pulled your wrist away. "Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, attempting to brush past him, but he blocked your path.

You then felt something that made all the color drain from your face. A knife, pressed against your abdomen.

“Nah, I think you'll be coming home with me tonight,” he hissed low in your ear.

–

He drove you to a hotel, and checked into a room, always keeping the knife at the small of your back.

“I'd take you home to mama, but she gets funny,” he said, gesturing to his scar.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked as he opened the hotel room door, pushing you inside before him.

“Tell me your favorite part about cutting,” he demanded, locking the door behind you.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

“You heard me,” he replied, removing his shirt and revealing numerous scars that crisscrossed his pale skin.

"Did you do that to yourself?" you asked, taken aback by the sight.

“I asked you a question first, missy,” he retorted with a cocky grin.

You sighed, sitting down shakily on the bed. “I just like to be reminded that I'm alive, okay? Shit hurts too much,” you mumbled.

“Well, you're certainly alive, darlin’. A whole club of people pretending to be happy, then there's you,” he remarked, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in his eye. “I can see you better ‘n all them. I see through the walls you built. You're not okay, but you could be,” he said, then turned his Bowie knife around, holding the handle towards you.

"What the hell?" you whispered, feeling a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Cut me. Tell me if it makes you feel alive the same way it does when you cut yourself,” he instructed, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

You took the knife, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't move, he just stood and watched you with a gleam in his eye.

You stood, holding the knife so tightly your fingers hurt. You could've slit his throat, or tried to anyway. Why did he kidnap you just to hand you a knife? Did he have a death wish?

Adrenaline made your heart pound in your ears. He wasn't moving… he must be serious. You raised the knife, took a deep breath, then sliced it across his chest.

“Ooh,” he winced, hissing through his teeth, “got me good. Must be all the practice,” he said with a laugh. All you could do was stare as crimson cascaded down his torso.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, the knife still limply held in your hand.

“Same thing as you,” he responded simply, running his hand over his abdomen and bringing his fingers to his lips, staining them red.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked anxiously.

“Why you askin’ me that, you're the one with the knife!” He laughed.

You looked down at the bloodied knife in your hand and realized something. In this instance, you look guilty. If you were to try anything, he could very easily claim you assaulted him.

“Guess you're in a pickle, lil’ missy. Let me help you outta it.” He stepped forward, leaning toward you. “But before I do, tell me how it felt.”

You took a deep breath, watching as the blood continued to seep from his wound he wasn’t bothering to stifle.

“It felt the same as when I cut myself, I guess,” you admitted. “I felt alive.”

“Knew it.” Johnny grinned. “In that case, I have a proposition for ya.”

He set one bloodied knuckle under your chin, angling your eyes to meet his. “There's someone who's stumbled onto my property, you see. Trespassin’. I could use some help teachin’ them a lesson. Might help you feel the same way you did cutting me.”

“I don't know, I'm not a bad person,” you said, your heart still pounding like mad.

“You aren't, but you felt that thrill, didn't ya? The world ain't black and white sweetheart.” He shrugs, moving to the bathroom and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his abdomen. “Far as I see it, trespassers need to be punished. Come with me. If you do, I'll let you go without a fuss. But I can promise you that you'll be back.”

“And if I don't?” You asked hesitantly.

“Well then, either you escape and I tell the cops you cut me open… or I kill you before you get the chance,” he said matter-of-factly, his demeanor chillingly calm.

You held up the knife, pointing it toward him, a futile attempt to assert some control over the situation.

“If you try it, I know how to survive, darlin’, and it only makes you look more guilty,” he said confidently, approaching you and allowing the knife to dimple his stomach when he reached you.

“Come with me,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours, which was still gripping the knife.

You continued to hold on, but deep down, you knew you stood no chance against this man. So, you let go.

“There ya go,” he said, his face lighting up. “Oh darlin’, we're gonna have so much fun.”

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw game #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tw self h4rm

[quillthrillswriting]

sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3

enjoy the excerpts from chapter three, that just dropped this morning!

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara watched Aang take one last, painful look at the temple, then turn to the sky ahead, lit up in shades of orange, pink, and gold. She swore she could see arrows in every cloud, arrows like the ones inked across Aang’s body, and the gentle breeze that carried the crisp night air towards them seemed to wrap around them like a loving spirit.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“...You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” Sokka sighed, turning the map that was held against Appa’s saddle with a couple of rocks toward himself. “I’ve been charting our progress, and it’s starting to look more like a scrap of paper a toddler is practising circles on than a navigational tool.”

“C’mon Sokka, I’m an Air nomad, travel is in my blood. I have a very strong internal compass. Besides, you’ll find that as a nomad, I’m a master of evasive manoeuvring.” Katara raised an eyebrow, looking up from her spot near the back of the saddle as she stitched a rip in Sokka’s pants. “Besides,” Aang continued, typical teenage boy overconfidence emitting from his tone of voice. “I know it’s near water.”

Sokka leaned over the edge of the saddle, eyes scanning the blue expanse below them that stretched as far as the eye could see. “We must be getting close then,” he scoffed, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he slouched back into his spot across from Katara.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Aang,” she said distractedly, “could you hold this for me?” She handed him the mirror. 

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

She tugged out her hair ties, flipping her head upside down for a moment to make sure that it had all gotten loose, then she gingerly tugged a few tendrils of water from the nearby ocean and wrapped tiny streams around her hair, tugging out the crimped braid pattern and reviving her curls. Then, she carefully bent the remaining liquid back out. 

She couldn’t see his face through her thick hair as she stood back up, but from his voice, Aang seemed impressed. “I get that you haven’t been able to learn any big combat moves, but for someone whose bending is self- taught, you sure have a pretty good handle on these smaller things.”

She properly flipped her head up now, curls and waves bouncing around her face. Her dark brown locks shone with honey-toned highlights, all different shades of caramel and chocolate sparkling as they framed her face. She reached up, gently twisting and clipping a few strands out of the way, but a few wayward pieces still fell forward, gently brushing against soft, full lips and smooth skin. Aang awkwardly froze for a moment, caught off guard by how different she looked when her hair was loose and free. He had a weird urge to tell her so, but bit his tongue, instead focusing on her answer. 

“I learned most of the smaller things from helping Gran-Gran.” Katara’s eyes sparkled, clearly caught up in a vision of home as she reached up to brush up her hair. “ As she’s gotten older, her range of mobility has started leaving her. It’s not really comfortable or safe for her to stoop over to wash her hair, so I learned how to bring the water to her and wash it while she was sitting up, then I learned how to dry it for her fast.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Sokka yelped, his voice defensive and offensive all at once. “There is no way a bunch of girls in cutesy makeup and dresses managed to tie me up.”

“Awe, you think our makeup is cutesy? How sweet .” The girl's voice was crooning at first, sweet and gentle, but Katara could see from the way her muscles flexed as she held Sokka by the collar that there was venom hiding behind those words. She was right. “Throw him to the Unagi.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Katara, c’mon, we’re supposed to be sticking together, where are you going?” Aang tugged at her arm until she was facing him, looking at her earnestly as if he hadn’t basically been flirting with all of those girls back there.

The words came out before she could stop them. “I thought monks weren’t supposed to go around flirting with any random girl, and they’re definitely not supposed to go around catering to a village full of fangirls.”

Aang raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing in a way that made Katara want to splash the smirk off of his face in a wave of water. “You sure have a lot of opinions on what you think monks are supposed to do, considering that I’m the only one you’ve ever met.” He shifted his weight, leaning in a bit closer. “Matter of fact, maybe it's just that you have a lot of opinions on what you think I’m supposed to be doing.”

Katara stiffened at the memory of the words that Sokka had just said minutes before. “Why would I care what you’re doing? I don’t. ”

Aang shrugged, reaching past her to grab a papaya and biting into it. After swallowing, he reached into Katara’s satchel, his hand brushing her waist as he pulled out some coins and quietly thanked the vendor. “Keep telling yourself that, Katara.” Hearing his name from her lips did something to her, but she kept her gaze level, eyes blazing with flame until Aang backed off.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

♥ check out the three chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

#atla #katara #sokka #aang #kataang #<- because thats how it reads when u age aang up hehe... #avatar the last airbender #avatar aang #zuko #iroh #fanart #atla kataang #atla fanfic #atla fandom #ao3 #writing #ao3 recs #ao3 works #ao3 link #ao3 writer #confessions #fluff #eventual romance #kataang fanfic #aang aged up au #older aang #prince zuko #atla zuko #sassy aang #quillthrillsatlafic

[kenntolog]

𝝑𝝔 an: cool bf sukuna catching his loser gf drawing his tattoos on herself!! reblog if you like, read more ab cool bf sukuna x loser gf here!!

“the hell are you doin’?”

you freeze, the black liner falling from your hand as you face sukuna with a disturbed look.

“nothing!”

sukuna’s face scrunches in confusion as he examines the lines on your face and arms.

sharp and narrow marks of black on the sides of your pretty face, a line across your nose and neat symbols on your chin and forehead. there is also an unfinished full black circle on your shoulder, and it doesn’t take much to understand that you were clearly trying to imitate sukuna’s tattoos.

a teasing grin blooms on his face as he approaches you, bending down to pick up the fallen liner and handing it to you, “doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.”

you look nervous, bottom lip stuck between your lips as he examines your work carefully, gaze so intense you can barely return it. sukuna’s expression softens at the precision with which you drew on the lines, exact copies of his and he can’t help but feel a little honoured.

he tucks a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and gently grazes his fingertips over the lines, chuckling to himself.

“i can take you to my tattoo artist if you wanna?” he smirks playfully, taking the black liner from your hand and starting to fill in the half empty circle on your shoulder diligently.

“i was just messin’ around, ‘kuna~” you pout, whining his name in that sickeningly sweet tone he adores. “i really like your tattoos!”

“yeah, i can tell, baby,” he murmurs, moving around to color your other shoulder. “like ‘em so much you draw ‘em better than mine.”

you melt under his attentive eyes, heartbeat speeding up at his praise, and shiver when he kisses the spot between your neck and shoulders. sukuna lives for your reactions, enjoying every second of teasing and prodding until you reach your breaking point(well, sometimes).

“well done,” he throws the liner somewhere, taking out his phone. “now lemme post this so everyone sees how pretty you look marked as mine.”

you can’t help the giggles that escape you at his words, hugging him tight as he ruffles your hair in adoration.

#— miya writes! #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader

[eyesfuil0fstars]

Yours To Save

You have an eye for the simple things in life,

the trees, 

the notes people stick on doors,

simple drawings on napkins, 

pretty,colourful streets 

and ancient buildings.

Maybe that’s why you noticed me, 

half dead laying down on a street 

begging for a miracle or a way to end this

and you came as if summoned,

a guardian angel,the streetlight behind you giving you a halo

as if the universe knew and was making a joke.

And then, a shadow of a feeling long forgotten, 

burried so deep in me I had almost forgotten it existed.

A trembling hand reaching out towards me,pulling me in.

“Come here,” you said,voice uncertain yet unafraid, 

“come here you fallen bird, 

come here you blue star. 

I can make something of you.”

You read me like no one else had done before.

You saw the twinkle in my eye and recognised it for what it was, 

a craving to feel something.

A begging to live and not simply survive.

And now I’m this,

someone,a marble,a poem made out of everyone i’ve ever loved.

My central piece,my core,my heart,

is solely yours.

I carved a David solely for your eyes.

No museums will hold my bones.

I don’t need them to keep me, to see me.

I’m not art. 

I’m yours to keep,

to take apart,

to see,

to judge,

to taste.

I’m yours to save.

#literature #phoebe bridgers #original poem #poem #poems on tumblr #spilled ink #poetry #spilled poetry #notes #prose #art #religion #religious imagery #poems and poetry #spilled writing #saviorcomplex #twin flame #love #guardian angel

[sysig]

If your almost out of requests I'll send my second allowed one! Didn't want to send a second one at first though to give other people a shot lol

Howsabout.... something something Scriabin with the vibe from the song "This is Love" by Air Traffic Controller? If vibes from songs are allowed ofc xD

Day 13 - I know wrong, I know right, I just love to pick a fight

#My art #Requestober #Vargas #Scriabin #It's been a heck-while since I've done a Vargas song analysis! #The previous still holds true - I'm still very picky on listening to new music lol #It took a few run-ups to convince myself to listen but I can definitely see the Scriabin in it :) #And Nny but honestly the amount of carryover Scriabin and Nny songs have - I don't think either would be happy about it lol #There are a good handful of lines that work best with him tho especially about being combative haha #It's a bit funny - when I was originally sketching this down on paper I was like ''Huh looks kinda like his palette challenge piece'' #Which if I haven't mentioned lately I am still out of my mind about it is literally So pretty #So drawing digitally I just kinda leaned into - as well as it ended up being a good art day so he's just Very Pretty here haha #Not so shockingly but I am still Very about Scriabin haha ♪ Handsome terrible lad ♥ #It all worked out in the end :) #Also I just realized you broke the only-one-Vargas request rule! >:0 #That's on me lol - I didn't realize until literally typing this up so you definitely get a pass #Still tho to everyone else! Keep an eye on the rules!

[puddii-ng]

a beautiful museum that lies on the sand of an hourglass ✧･ﾟ

#my art #fanart #enstars #ensemble stars #nazuna nito #ex valkyrie #exvalk #WOWW LOOK AT ME POSTING TWICE BACK TO BACK #working on another piece so please have this.. #please hold your applause #i am thee most active tumblr #HEEHEE KIDDING #im really not.. but im trying #this drawing is a bit messy but i still think its pretty #one thing about me is ill find an excuse to sob over exvalk ANY DAY #but to the 4 people who follow me for shumika KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED. #to the people who follow for me for a3... wait a min i have something planned #everyone else.. bear with me i am so sorry #hope u guys like it

[maudiemoods]

How many dreams have you had of moon hunting you down? I've had 3!

#they were absolutely terrifying #one was so so vivid #i wanna draw it so bad but AURG i dont have the skills #i was playing a game where you're in a house and the kitchen is the starting room #bam was there i think #but sun was in the kitchen along with everyone and the game was about to start #in 5 minutes the lights would go out and moon would come out to hunt people! i hid on the bottom bed of a bunk bed #under the covers and close to the wall. then the kitchen light went out and i could hear the bells as moon walked around looking for people #and he walked right next to me. i remember bit being able to breathe i was so scared #he looked dead at me. right in the eyes and paused for a good minute then continued to the next room #i remember thinking it was a cruel part of the game! like he liked to terrify people before getting them #aurhg but that moment when we made eye contact. it was beautiful and so so cinematic! a pretty red glow from his eyes! #soft blue light coming in through the shudders! #and the room was so cute! very softly designed to look like a neutral kids room! blue wallpaper and a giraffe stuffed animal #aurhgg #ren won't shut up

[testing-reblogs]

Get real!!!!

#what if i #boy who struggled so hard with making it simple enough for me to comfortably recreate but also i love adding pointless things ill forget so #see how long it takes for me to completely forget to draw the second smaller pin on the jacket #heavy metal core who is definitely very much a core and not a turret thats just convinced everyone that they're a core nuh uh #one day ill think of more ways to making my turret android designs more distinct from cores bc rn they kinda got the Octoling treatment #which is technically different species but the differences in base appearance are actually pretty minor like its just the suckers and eyes #but im not gonna stress myself over it but its something ill get to whenever i feel like it #unfortunately i had a stomach ache so ended up sleeping until 4pm then getting to play games with my friend gave me motivation at 11 pm #i should really just write how my day was in a separate post bc i talk a whole lot <3 #heavy metal core #heavy metal core aperture tag #portal 2 #aperture tag

[vse-kar-vem]

how to write vent post title that does not come off as self-pitying and or accusatory (because it's NOT !)

#sorry tumblr is like a diary to me idk what i'll do w this blog after i (sigh) inevitably move on #either way #im convinced everyone hates me again :3 but realistically no one cares about me even enough to hate me im just stupid and self centred 💔 #if anything me TYPING these posts is actuvely turning people against me #again with the assumptions that people care enough to read these 😭 fhskfbhsjfkg #i hate that i care so much what people online think of me cuz irl it's like. whatever #but here there are so many cool people who i admire and would love to be friends with im always hyperparanoid of everything i do #and still i manage to overstep and come off as annoying #like obvs you're allowed to hate me even if you're someone i look up to like that's your perogative #but i hate worrying about IF anyone hates me #oughgh this is easier irl because usually people send off pretty clear signals if they dont like you #but online (esp with how prickly this fandom is) i don't know whether im being insecure and reading into things or whether people just don't #like me (which again is fine i would just rather know if anyone gets it) #i figure art is the one way i can get people to like me 💔 which sounds kinda pathetic because irl i KNOW im liked and capable! #fandom has just become such a big part of my personality that i cant detach my self worth from it #and i do love art and drawing and such i hate that even if i know people my stuff EYE dont and it doesnt mean anything or act as a signifier #of my friendships #wow .... i really am my own therapist ..... i should shut up #the industrial revolution and its consequences (jofandom) #i think these posts are half self exploration half ... almost self harm? because sometimes im so derogatory about myself on purpose in a #'you're worthless' way. but at the same time it's cathartic and i always feel better having probed at my feelings and gotten them in order #not to do a complete 180 but it's MY post and JO LONDON IN *12* DAYS!!!!!!!! AHH i'm sooo excited if it doesnt live up to my expectations i #may cry a little. and there will be another vent post from me ! #sometimes i wonder if anyone actually reads these 😭 #vee rambles