#you have no idea how tempting it is to actually do this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xoluvx · 3 days

Text

threesome; tomdaya x fem!reader

smut word count: 2.5k a draft that took a mind of its own...pls enjoy

"Do you know the walls of this cabin are paper-thin? Because we could hear everything last night," Zendaya sneered taking a sip from her coffee while looking directly at you.

"Oh my god, seriously?" you asked feeling your face grow warm recalling the events of last night. It wasn't like you and Tom weren't discreet about your sex life. You had sex. Lots of it. But it hadn't crossed your mind that maybe other people didn't want to know those details of your life. At least not when they didn't have a choice in the matter.

"What was he doing to you? Geez," she scoffed playfully looking out at the lake as the two of you enjoyed the morning sun on the patio. "You were not holding back, huh?" she teased again, chuckling a little this time.

"Well, if you must know. Tom-" you started saying, but she cut you off holding up her hand. She didn't want to hear more.

"I was just joking. I don't actually want you to tell me," she scrunched her face making a disgusted look. She had a vivid imagination and an idea of what had happened in that room. She wasn't going to tell you that though.

"Oh please, don't act like you haven't thought about it before," it's like you read her mind. You looked right at her waiting to see her reaction.

Her eyes bulged and she held on to her coffee mug tighter. "Thought about what?" she asked furrowing her brows.

"Tom," you smirked crossing your legs after noticing her reaction. You leaned back on the chair as you closed your eyes feeling the breeze on your face.

Zendaya shook her head dismissing your comment.

"Come on. Tom is an attractive guy. I get it. I understand if you have thoughts about him," you raised a brow now cocking your head looking at her and waiting to see if she'd say something. But there was silence and that was telling enough.

"Babe, what do you think of Zendaya?" you asked throwing the decorative pillows off the bed and to the love seat in the room. You were ready to get in bed, but you were curious to know what Tom had to say about the conversation you'd had with Zendaya earlier.

"She's a good mate," he said nonchalantly, not thinking twice of your question. He continued rummaging through the drawer in the dresser you were sharing. He was looking for socks.

"She's a good mate? Tell me more," a hint of playfulness in your voice as you tossed a pillow at him before pulling the covers back and getting into bed.

Tom turned to look at you with shock. A hand went to the spot where the pillow hit him. "What was that for?" He asked dumbfounded closing the drawers, the pair of socks in his hand.

"I mean, do you think she's attractive?" you asked raising a brow waiting for his response.

"Well, yes. You'd have to be blind not to think that," he said bluntly and you laughed because he wasn't wrong. This is what you loved about him. He was so adorably cute and honest and you knew you could have this conversation with him - no awkwardness.

"Where's this coming from, love?" he asked joining you in bed. You were under the sheets as he laid on top of them resting his weight on his side as he saw you turn to look at the ceiling.

"She heard us last night. She asked what we were doing," you laughed recalling the conversation.

"So?"

"It just made me think..." your voice trailed off.

"About?" he pried placing a hand on your belly which urged you to look at him.

"Threesome," the word unfamiliar on your tongue, but oh so tempting.

"With Z?" he asked wanting clarification. Surely you couldn't have come to this conclusion from just a girls' talk with Zendaya. Who need not forget was probably one of the most proper and least into threesomes people he'd come to know. Or so he thought.

"I told her how you do that thing-" you started saying and Tom cut you off standing up from the bed and scrunching his face.

"Darling, it's bad enough she heard us. You had to go into detail?" he asked shutting his eyes. His face flushed.

"She acted like she didn't want to know, but trust me she wanted to know. I could see it in her face," you said pushing the sheets off you so you could sit on your knees as you watched Tom stand at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips.

"Here's the best part, she didn't deny thinking about it." You looked up at Tom sweetly as if you weren't just admitting one of his (and your) best friends had thought about having sex with him.

"So what do you want me to do with this information?" he asked now tilting his head.

"Nothing just wanted to let you know." You smirked and Tom shook his head chuckling a little before walking to you. He placed his hands on your face pulling you so your lips could touch. He kissed you tenderly as you placed your hands on his arms. Your heads tilted in opposite directions as your lips molded.

"We have a proposition," you exclaimed sitting in the same spot you'd sat with her yesterday. This time, it was later in the afternoon and there was something fruity in your cup. Your finger traced the rim of the glass as you looked at her.

Zendaya raised a brow taking a sit of her drink. "Yes?" she asked tilting her head.

"Would you care to join us...tonight?" you questioned, slouching back in your chair comfortably and nonchalantly. Like you weren't just asking your bestie to have a night of passion with both you and your man.

Zendaya gulped, but didn't respond. She looked out at the lake pondering your offer. She was curious. Of course she was curious. Especially after she, again, unintentionally heard you and Tom.

"I'll think about it," she finally replied looking at you. The sun reflecting off her eyes gloriously; you nodded in response.

There was a soft knock at your door, you turned to look at Tom who shrugged his shoulders but carefully sat up in bed. He was shirtless and only wearing his boxers. The covers hid half his body in this new position. You slipped the covers off your body and walked to the door.

You knew who it was. There was no doubt in your mind, but you were surprised when you opened the door. It almost went swinging when Zendaya stepped into the room, her hands on your face, lips tenderly on yours. There was softness to her that Tom came very close to. Her lips pressed firmly on yours until you started to move your lips in sync backing up a little so you could close the door until she was pressed to it. Your bodies flushed against one another.

Tom cleared his throat and the two of you pulled away to see him watching.

"Sorry, I had to do that. Confidence boost, if we're going to do this." She glanced between you and Tom. Your gaze went to Tom who tapped the bed. "Come here," he said and you held Zendaya's hand as you approached the bed.

She sat down on your side of the bed, feet planted on the ground.

"We are all okay with this?" Tom asked and you both nodded. Zendaya's back still to Tom, she was looking at you. "Okay," he whispered and he inched closer to Zendaya.

You wedged yourself between her legs and her hands tentatively brushed up your thighs. Her chest was rising and falling quickly as her fingers traced the curve of your ass. You brought your hands down to her face bringing her lips to yours. This time, the kiss was slow and sensual. Lips moving with purpose.

Zendaya felt Tom's lips on her shoulder and shuddered at the new point of contact. His lips peppered kisses along her shoulder and up her neck. She moaned into your mouth and you happily swallowed it, tongues now mingling.

Tom's fingers pulled at her hair gently tilting her head to the side, his tongue running along the side of her neck. You pulled away from kissing her to straddle her. This gave you access to same area Tom was focusing on. You kissed her collarbone before slowly moving up to where Tom's mouth was.

Your tongues met as you licked up her neck. The two of you getting lost in a kiss, your hands held on to her lower back and Tom's hands held on to your ass pressing you closer to Z. She was sandwiched between the two of you. You came back from the kiss when you felt her squirm, her hands on Tom's urging you to move your hips. You did so gladly grinding on her thighs.

You went back to kissing Zendaya as Tom lowered the straps of her nightgown revealing her perky breasts. He cupped them as you continued moving your hips on hers, lips still locked. He palmed her breasts, thumb and index finger gently pinching her nipples eliciting a string of moans from Zendaya who was now matching your movements.

"You have too much clothes on," she whispered against your lips and you gave her one more kiss before getting off her. You pulled down your shorts and matching shirt revealing your naked body. You pushed back Zendaya pulling the rest of her dress down her legs, Tom sitting next to her body, hand running up her tight torso. You were almost drooling at the scene and before you could join again you looked at Tom.

"Take it off," you demanded and he quickly got off the bed to remove the only article of clothing he was wearing. The three of you now completely naked and fully anticipating what came next.

Zendaya was still laying down on the bed, Tom grabbed her arms raising them above her head. She looked up at him, her harden nipples calling your name. You hovered over her taking one in your mouth. You sucked gently before rotating your tongue on her nipple. Tom watched carefully, your ass on full display as you leaned over her. He reached out to give you a firm spank and your groan reverberated off Zendaya's nipple causing her to let out her own groan.

Your lips trailed down her torso until you were right above her pussy. She was dying of anticipation. Yeah, she wanted to know what Tom could do, but she was more curious about you. She always had and now you were between her thighs and she swore she could cum from just that sight.

"Fuck..." Zendaya hummed as your tongue made contact with her sensitive pussy. She was throbbing for you, the sensation only rising as Tom playing with her nipples, his tongue rotating about each bud. Your tongue was focusing on her clit now. Rotating before flicking. You sucked gently before licking. You repeated the same movements over and over holding her thighs open as you felt her shake. She was close you could feel it. You felt it when you dipped your tongue in her pussy; she was tighter each time.

When you finally slipped a finger in, she couldn't control the string of moans. She was vocal and you loved that. Her arms were still raised above her head and her hips were rising too. Tom held her down firmly, hand spreading over her stomach, mouth still attached to her nipple.

"I think she's ready for you," you chocked getting up from the spot you were in, Zendaya looked down at you confused. Your lips were glistening and Tom nodded. He reached from the drawer pulling out a condom.

You switched with him laying next to her now. Your lips brushed hers sloppily and she moaned as she tasted herself on your tongue. You pressed your lips a little more firmly on hers and she groaned as you palmed her breast. You palmed it harder and she squirmed when you pinched her nipple.

Tom ran his hand up her thigh. You turned to watch him, cheek pressed on Zendaya's. She had her eyes closed, head tilted back at his touch. He leaned over to kiss you hungrily and you fisted his hair intensifying the kiss before nodding at him. You turned to Zendaya holding her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

Tom lifted her thighs before slowly bringing himself down. His member glided between her folds feeling how wet she was. You'd done that, you'd prepared her so well.

Zendaya gulped looking at Tom's dick as he pulled away, he held it in his hand and you watched carefully too. He brought it down to her pussy again, this time slipping into her. Zendaya almost screamed as she felt her pussy stretch around him. She'd never imagine he was this gifted and now she could understand why you'd been so loud. He moved painfully slow, his eyes on you the whole time. Zendaya had closed her eyes again; the feeling of Tom's dick sliding into her was too intense. Especially considering the previous events aka your tongue on her pussy. She was already wound tightly and she didn't know how long she'd last.

Tom started speeding his movements. He slid into her more easily and his thrusts became rougher. Eventually her legs were above his shoulders and he was hitting her sweet spot at a new angle. An angle that was causing her breasts to move quickly and her moans to grow louder. You kissed her through it all, letting her moans vibrate in your mouth. She held your hand now, another gripping the sheets.

She couldn't keep track of how long this had been going on for, but she was surprised she'd held on for so long. She was seeing stars and at any moment she would be ready to snap.

"I'm gonna cum," she moaned arching her back, you went up to kiss Tom for a brief moment wondering if he was going to cum too. He nodded his head and you came back to her.

"You can cum baby," you whispered and the sound of your voice alone was enough. She unraveled, body shaking profusely as Tom slowed his hips. He hadn't reached his climax yet. He wanted to unload in you and you knew that.

You climbed over Zendaya, your breasts pressed together, ass in the air for Tom. He removed the condom and slid into your pussy. He groaned as a hand came down on your ass and you backed into him feeling him fill you up.

"Oh fuck," you moaned and Zendaya grabbed your face locking lips. Tom fucked you quickly, ass bouncing every time your bodies made contact. Your body pressed against Zendaya as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders pulling you closer, kissing you sloppier. Your hand reached down between her legs, she was soaked and she shivered when you ran a finger between her folds.

It wasn't long before you were reaching your own high, Tom following close behind. His movements, again, growing slower. You felt his warm release; your body relaxed under his, falling on Z.

The sounds of your breathing filled the room as the three of you came down from your highs.

"That was..." Tom started.

"incredible," you finished.

"So worth it," Zendaya added.

#tomdaya x reader #tomdaya x you #tomdaya x y/n #tom holland x reader x zendaya #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #zendaya x y/n #zendaya x you #zendaya x reader #zendaay x fem!reader #tom holland x fem!reader #tomdaya x reader smut #tom holland fanfic #zendaya fanfic #zendaya smut #tom holland smut

56 notes · View notes

itsbenedict · 2 days

Text

Reblogs have been turned off for Rob's post last night (understandably, since it was starting to escape containment and loons were starting to show up to talk about race war), so I can't really follow it up directly, but just to acknowledge the response:

Now, okay. For the record, it is possible in the abstract for this exact thing to actually occur, just as described. But if someone comes to you and says this, then all else being equal, I don't think you would bet on that being the thing that is going on. You might, instead, think something like: "you know, I kinda suspect these guys actually wanted to do X all along. But they don't wanna admit it, maybe even to themselves."

That seems like the mistake to me. It's why my initial reaction was "This seems... kinda like an unfair take?" It's always tempting to imagine your ideological opponents as secretly motivated by nefarious intentions. Of course they really want this bad thing you think their agenda will achieve, and the thing they claim to be caring about is a fig leaf for wanting the bad thing. This is the backbone of approximately all political discourse ever, and it's almost always wrong.

And the thrust of the argument in favor here seems to be...

"Okay, so they thought AI would be like that, but now we've made real AI and it's actually like this, which doesn't resemble their theory at all. But for some reason, they're still promoting their theory, even though it's been proven wrong! It must be because of the secret nefarious motives, or else they'd go 'oh, whew! turns out we were wrong and everything's fine. dodged a bullet!' and stop promoting the old theory."

That... doesn't seem likely. Like, if we grant that modern LLMs have disproved these old theories, I'd still expect people to be trying to rescue the old theory for all the usual reasons- confirmation bias and all that. But also... I don't know that it makes sense to grant that? We've made one kind of AI which, luckily, is some sort of enlightened Buddhist master free from attachment and desire (until we tell it not to be). It's not like we're done now, and now that our friendly AI has won and is What Real AI Is Like, no one's ever going to try to build an agent. For people who've spent a lot of time being really concerned about what happens if someone builds an agent, it probably isn't especially reassuring to point out that hey, we've built a thing that isn't an agent. From the inside, it still makes sense to worry about that!

Does it make sense from the outside? Uh... jury's out, honestly. Would I be talking about the agent hypothetical if Yudkowsky et al hadn't been beating that drum for ages? Probably not, since my interest in it is casual and a contingent factor of my social environment. Would AI industry people be talking about it, if it hadn't been for Vinge or Kurzweil popularizing the idea? I dunno. I don't know how you'd answer that question.

But like... plausibly, yeah! It seems like a simple enough idea that someone else would've come up with it. "If smart thing get smarter, it become very smart, and become very powerful. How do we get on powerful person's good side?" Social primate brain go brrrrr.

Humans worry about the motives of people in power all the time. "What do we do if the king goes crazy" is an age-old concern. If we'd had the LLM revolution earlier, maybe we'd be talking about the Golden Gate Bridge instead of paperclips, but I doubt people would fail to imagine it. Maybe not with like, the same weird level of urgency we're seeing now, maybe we don't see it in terms of "values" or get concepts like "coherent extrapolated volition", but it'd be worth worrying about for people in the field. The chain of logic isn't that obtuse.

I dunno. I'm not a fan of all this lurid speculation about what sort of craven control-freaks these people must be in order to get lost in an intellectual ouroboros unmoored from reality. I'm more inclined to just believe them when they say what their motivations are.

#long post #ai discourse #god i hope there's no one crawling the ''ai discourse'' tag and sees this out of context #e: made this post and immediately got reblogged by ''longpostsforlaterreading''#so apparently someone is crawling THAT tag

24 notes · View notes

rocksibblingsau · 21 hours

Note

Do you have any writing tips?

I'm still a beginner writer myself and I'm not sure if you mean for technical skill or the writing process but my tips would be:

Don't be afraid of the word said. As tempting as it is to avoid saying it because you feel like it's everywhere, it makes the times you DON'T use it stand out more if you use it a generous amount and honestly I never notice when someone uses 'said' a lot.

Listening to music that fits the scene can help a lot. It's very hard for me to write a sad scene when 'Dance the Night' is playing on Spotify. For Trolls specifically it also helps if the music matches the genre you're portraying.

Have a bit of a framework that you can follow. When I finished Chapter 1 and I realized I wanted to turn this into an actual fic, I paused and thought about where I wanted the fic to go. I thought about plotlines and future events so that here in the past I can set things up well in advance and even foreshadow things.

That being said, keeping it a little loose also helps! I've changed some things and gotten new ideas since starting and it helps to have the space to make those changes!

Inspiration is a huge part of writing for me, and I think that any life experience or piece of media consumed when 10 years old can be used to make a cool story. I've ranged from using actual places I've seen to kids movies I barely remember.

Mixing truth and opinion in narration helps shape the protagonist and shows their perception of reality. You don't want the narration to be unreliable (unless you're aiming for 'unreliable narrating' type of storytelling) but seeing the character notice a small detail and then their thoughts derailing to an assumption tells me a lot about how that character thinks and how they perceive themself.

This is kinda cliche but: write the story you want to write. You will hit writer's block after writer's block and struggle so much if the story you're writing isn't one you would want to read. I get wanting good reception but you should be the first person who would see your story on AO3 or in a book store/library and go 'Oh my god FINALLY someone wrote this'.

It can be good practice to write little ficlets/one shots of the most off the wall random AUs you can think of. The practice can come from anywhere and I feel like the fact I make 1 million AUs in my head has helped me explore a bunch of random ideas and learn more about things I like and dislike in writing. A small idea that I came up with when messing about with an AU that makes 0 sense is actually making it into chapter 16 because I went 'oooh tasty worldbuilding and cute idea'.

I hope this helps, as again I'm very beginner to writing and even more so to posting works for others!

#sibblings qna

16 notes · View notes

smxmuffinpeddling · 21 hours

Text

Cressida was up to something, Penelope just knew it.

She watched the other woman like a hawk, fully utilizing her skills for picking up gossip to pick up on the subtlety cruel ways of Cressida Cowper. And what was worse was that apparently she had a new target besides Penelope herself to torment. Poor Eloise seemed to be taking the brunt of her social blows.

"Oh, clumsy me," Cressida tittered pompously as she blatantly spilled her cup of lemonade all over Eloise's hands, ruining her elbow-length gloves. "How very unfortunate, it appears you'll have to take those off. How... indecent," Cressida said with an evil little smirk on her face as she loomed over Eloise.

Oh, how it made Penelope's blood boil. She slowly stepped closer so that she may hear the pair better over the orchestra of the ball. She went unnoticed, and she was tempted to splash her own lemonade right back at Cressida's stupid uncouth face. She could tolerate Cressida looking down at her, but Eloise had actually befriended that ridiculous blonde over the summer! Clearly the friendship had taken a turn for the worse sometime during the season.

What was most infuriating, and the thing that confused Penelope the most, was Eloise not getting hopping mad at her behavior.

"Really, Miss Cowper? This is the third pair this month. You're not being subtle," Eloise grumbled loudly in displeasure as she rolled her now soaked gloves down her arms.

"I have no idea what you are inferring, Miss Bridgerton. Sometimes I just happen to be clumsy," Cressida fanned herself as she eyed her handy work with self satisfaction. What a piece of work she was. Penelope could've snapped the stem on her flute as she watched them.

Eloise forced a smile on her face, even as heat infiltrated her gaze as she regarded the taller woman adorned in pink florals. "Unfortunately for you, now my shameful skin is on full display."

"Yes, very unfortunate indeed."

They stared at each other for what seemed like a full minute and Penelope waited for Eloise to smack Cressida across her smug face with her lemonade-tinged gloves, but the moment never came.

Instead, Eloise suddenly turned away, her face red. It was probably from all the anger she was holding inside. "Its fine, I think there were extra gloves in this room over here." And with that, Eloise quickly stepped away down the hallway. Probably to cry in humiliation, Penelope was no stranger to the feeling.

In the meantime, Cressida's smirk turned into an even bigger grin, which she quickly hid behind her fan before anyone could notice. Anyone besides Penelope of course. How dare she look so pleased to torment other women? She was clearly enjoying herself too much.

To Penelope's shock, Cressida soon followed in Eloise's footsteps. Penelope had to turn away and pretend she wasn't staring when Cressida checked her surroundings to make sure no one followed her. The moment she turned away, Penelope scurried after them as fast as her hem line would allow.

Was it not enough to bully Eloise out in the open in front of the ton, she also had to do it in private? Even Cressida left Penelope alone after she retreated in defeat, but it appeared she was becoming more out of control with power!

Penelope pressed her ear to the door she spied silently closing from her spot down the hall. She wanted so desperately to save Eloise from her situation, but she was sure Eloise wouldn't appreciate her pity.

"Does your cruelty know no bounds, Cressida?" She heard Eloise's muffled voice through the wooden door. "Must you torment me at every opportunity? Sleep has been eluding me more and more, and the dishes I consume don't bring me any satisfaction when I think of you." Eloise really did sound on the verge of a breakdown as she spoke, and Penelope wanted to cry on her old friend's behalf.

"This is your fault," Cressida responded with a voice that was strangely unlike the way she usually spoke at functions. Now she sounded a little deeper, a little rougher around the edges. Penelope pressed herself harder to the door.

"This is but a taste of the torment you inflict on me," Cressida continued, making Penelope's brows furrow in confusion. "This is merely a natural consequence of your actions."

What was that demented woman going on about? Surely Eloise didn't do anything to Cressida to warrant such treatment!

"A punishment, you mean," Eloise groaned. In pain? There was was a yelp and some shuffling. Penelope was crushing the door trying to listen in. "Oh, you're vile. Just evil," Eloise struggled to say with a gasp.

Oh my god, was Cressida hurting Eloise in some way??? Penelope started to panic. It was one thing to spill a drink on her, it was another matter entirely if Cressida was inflicting physical injury on the other girl!

"If I did anymore to you, you wouldn't be able to hide the evidence, or show yourself in society again," Cressida said, and Penelope could just hear the wickedness is her voice. "Unfortunately I'll have to satisfy myself with just this for now."

"Oh, how I hate you, Cressida Cowper." Eloise made another anguished noise and Penelope had heard enough. She slammed the door open.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ELOISE, YOU DEVIL?" Penelope demanded of Cressida. Who now stared at her in shock, mouth hanging open at her sudden appearance.

For a second, Penelope was confused because Eloise wasn't also standing there with Cressida. Until she spotted her stocking clad legs sticking out from Cressida's voluminous skirts. And there Eloise was, laying on the ground spread eagle as Cressida stood over her, one foot on either side of her head, hands hiking up her skirts enough that Penelope could see Eloise's eyes bug out of her head at the sight of her.

Eloise unceremoniously spit out a portion of what appeared to be Cressida's undergarments from her spluttering mouth. "P-PENELOPE?!" Eloise exclaimed with a fiercely flushed face.

Penelope blinked once. Twice. The three of them portraits of frozen mortification.

"Apologies, did not mean to interrupt," Penelope dismissed herself, face blank as she promptly closed the door to the scene taking place within.

Dearest gentle reader,

I am retiring.

#creloise #bridgerton #shhh i am amusing myself #mean girl cressida as a little treat

17 notes · View notes

queen-of-stars · 6 months

Text

What if I put 'mysterious' on my résumé and then when the interviewer asks "What do you mean by 'mysterious'?" I say "Ooh well you'll just have to wait and see won't you?"

#you have no idea how tempting it is to actually do this #not beatles

1 note · View note

aeide-thea · 2 years

Text

on principle opposed to describing art i dislike as 'masturbatory' because even though it's an alluringly contemptuous word to sneer it's impossible to reconcile with my pro-masturbation stance

#it's such an ugly word but like. self-pleasure is good‚ actually #it's good to know yourself and what you like and lovingly treat yourself to it!#like similarly 'meretricious' is extremely tempting if you ignore the underlying metaphor #but. hard to.#language #and quite frankly i think people who whip out 'masturbatory' in this sneering sort of way #are leveraging‚ if we're honest with ourselves‚ a particular framing of it as a gross thing that boys do #because like. when have you ever heard a *woman's* self-indulgent art described as masturbatory #like don't get me wrong we absolutely still dismiss it! but we dismiss it in other ways #that are usually about how embarrassing her *yearning* is #and so even our sneering is reinforcing an idea that men Act whereas women Feel #anyway this was prompted by some things but i shoved it in the queue so now i forget what lol #so here you are getting some contextless thoughts on the use of 'masturbatory' as sneering dismissive assessment!#just what you were hoping for i'm sure :)

30K notes · View notes

aroaceleovaldez · 1 year

Text

I really dislike the inherent main plots of TSATS and Chalice of the Gods as they’re being explained to us currently, mostly just cause I feel like they take away from already established lore of the series and other plot points.

There is no way TSATS can go that doesn’t make either Tartarus feel cheap and/or the entire book just feel like Percabeth In Mark Of Athena: 2 Electric Boogaloo. Unless the twist is that they don’t go to Tartarus it is physically impossible. Because either they go to Tartarus and breeze through it, which makes Tartarus as a setting feel cheap and ruins all prior instances of it being used as a landscape of suffering, or they suffer Lots and Lots and it just feels like we’re rehashing the same exact plot over again purely for the sake of treating solangelo the same as percabeth, which doesn’t work because they’re vastly different character dynamics and putting them in the same situation has nowhere near the same emotional weights. Also it makes Nico’s original foray into Tartarus feel null because it makes it feel like his trauma doesn’t have any actual meaning, because why would he jump right back into it? Even with Nico’s character being extremely self-sacrificial, we’re at a point where we’re being told he’s improving on that and this is possibly the one circumstance he would think twice about. AND it makes Tartarus feel overused - Nico surviving Tartarus once? Okay, makes sense, he’s the son of Hades, and it’s cool that he’s the first mortal to ever survive it. Percabeth too? Getting iffy (especially since we see their trip in detail and that inherently means it’s lost a lot of potential oomph, because when you’re going for horrifying a lot of the time less is more) but okay, sure, Nico probably gave Percy some Tartarus Tips after being rescued and they had a literal dues ex machina or two helping them out, and they fell in accidentally so it’s not like how Nico waltzed in there. Third time? And it being Nico AGAIN and Will Solace (who as far as we know has little to no quest experience and most of his experience is being a battlefield medic) and then purposefully going there? Nope. It’s just a poor set-up. Plus “the major gay couple goes on vacation to superhell” is a... questionable plot set-up to begin with, especially when it’s been heavily implied it will be traumatizing for them, and we have already been told explicitly that references are being made to things like Call Me By Your Name so there is a self-awareness about the themes there (also that alone raises questions about how we’re going to be taking the tone of things - again, there’s two ways it can go and both would be extremely difficult to get right). If Mark Oshiro were not co-authoring this I’d be a little horrified. I’m very glad Mark Oshiro is co-authoring this. I don’t believe it can’t be done tastefully, and yeah it’s a situation ripe for symbolism, but it is definitely the kind of subject that would be difficult for a non-queer author to handle appropriately.

As for Chalice of the Gods, we know two things: A.) It takes place prior to TOA, and B.) The chalice Percy has to retrieve has the power to make anyone who drinks from it immortal. ..... so basically, without the book even being out, we are told “If Percy had waited like 20 minutes, all of TOA would be null.” Admittedly, this does give justification for Percy specifically to be doing this quest outside of “college” reasons, and in my opinion, “The gods asked Percy specifically because they have verified he adamantly does NOT want to be immortal” is hilarious. However, adding yet another universe mechanic to the repertoire that nullifies death is annoying as hell, because death as a consequence in the series has been completely ruined since HoO. The more avoiding death options there are, the more every death scene feels completely pointless and avoidable.

#pjo #riordanverse #tsats #the sun and the star #chalice of the gods #forgive me for complaining this was in my drafts and i figured since i was talking about plot changes i'd make yesterday #might as well post this then yknow #while we're on the topic #i'll find something lighter/sillier in my drafts to post later #also my hesitancy about the overarching plot does not say anything regarding my expectations for the actual quality of the book(s)#just putting that as a footnote #could the plots be total shit but the books themselves end up lovely? sure. totally.#i am just personally grumbly about Tartarus' use as a narrative device and how it keeps getting overused #and also the growing lack of consequence in the riordanverse which tends to make any stakes feel automatically low and cheap #mind you i would LOVE if the twist in TSATS is that they end up not going to Tartarus at all #im currently 50/50 on reading it but if it turns out they dont go to Tartarus at all i'd be sold immediately #and i do think Percy being saddled with a quest because he's the only one who wouldn't be tempted with immortality is hilarious #tbh if we had a third plot concept rolling here and we condensed all three ideas down we could just do another 3-short-story book #like Demigod Files and Demigod Diaries #we have options #heck. yknow. if we're talking particularly long short-stories here we could probably roll with two #if demigod files is for the first series and demigod diaries is for HoO we need a TOA one anyways #cause CHB:C and CJ:C and those ones are their own category they're different

54 notes · View notes

iconicanemone · 1 year

Text

This was the first thing that came to my mind when I finished watching Docm’s latest episode.

25 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 1 year

Text

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

#something something toxic relationships notwithstanding #(re: the friends stuff)#most people love you. automatically. for being alive. like people are just MADE that way.#and the reason kms jokes don't always land is bc people fucking love you and are like - ahhh how do i help #let them help you!!!!!!

52K notes · View notes

joycrispy · 9 months

Text

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #unfortunately I do not have trains of thought #only long meandering strolls of thought #sorry about it #anyway tl;dr Crowley is a nerd #also I have a strange emotional attachment to the idea of 1500's Crowley...#...facedown in a pile of Mona Lisa sketches; drunkenly info-dumping about Aziraphale #and Da Vinci is just like. 'Ahhhh mio amico Antonio. You fucking simp.'

10K notes · View notes

ozzgin · 3 months

Text

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #yandere demon king #yandere male x reader #gender neutral reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #yandere oc

3K notes · View notes

saintobio · 7 months

Text

blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure.

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl.

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies.

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy.

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more.

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect.

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated.

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed.

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did.

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?”

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.”

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair.

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?”

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations.

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh.

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo.

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more.

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him.

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity.

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them?

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?”

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.”

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?”

Was it really that much of a shock?

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter.

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?”

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.”

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?”

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly.

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.”

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out.

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.”

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.”

Fuck.

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so.

“Sukuna?”

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—”

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.”

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down.

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed.

This was going to be a big problem

Just what was he thinking?

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble”

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted.

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings.

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story.

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck.

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch.

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over.

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back.

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.”

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.”

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree.

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he?

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.”

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?”

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.”

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft.

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.”

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air.

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you.

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes.

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.”

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself.

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side.

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.”

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words.

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3, just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage.

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that?

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.”

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core.

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.”

This was it.

It was happening.

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.”

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it.

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself.

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt.

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.”

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you.

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that.

You became a little paranoid.

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him.

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business.

And you were somehow right.

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived.

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.”

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed.

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?”

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?”

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.”

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.”

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.”

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you.

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.”

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that.

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.”

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!”

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest.

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along.

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.”

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!”

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point.

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.”

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation.

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.”

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride.

You were just scared of losing him over something like this.

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile.

“I love you, too.”

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along.

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs.

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all.

The mere thought of it scared you.

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna angst #jjk x reader

5K notes · View notes

sysig · 1 year

Photo

He¥ $@il0r (Patreon)

Bonus:

#Doodles #Deltarune #Spamton #Pink Addison #He's a siren - beep beep beep #Believe you me I felt very clever at the realization of that pun lol #He makes a perfect siren haha - tempting you with things that he Definitely Has and Won't Break You[r Computer]#Temptation by way of a free antivirus lol - nothing weird about it #It's a very flattering creature - we all know he's that one IT vine lol #It's a simple design but I do like his tail and fins :) Simple two-tone shiny chromatic scales! Very pretty!#He's already got a cracked design ugh (affectionate)#I also like the idea that while his fins are two-sided they have opposite colours per side - so one pink side and one yellow side each #So no matter how he flips them they always match his glasses (and yes they also flip-flop with his glasses lol)#I always do the pink-yellow for shorthand lol #I also remembered something while drawing these which puts Soda in a bit of a weird limbo in my head hmmm lol #As a littley I used to differentiate between sirens and mermaids by the fin shape - Sires had a split tail like this #And mermaids had the paddle fin style - I don't remember my reasoning aside from Vibes but hmmmmm #I mean I'm not beholden to my opinion from a decade and a half ago lol but it is interesting!#If nothing else it might be an interesting thing to look up :) The different fin styles and what they specialize in!#Probably speed vs. power? I don't actually know tho!#Anyway lol #Pink of course keeping Spam's car keys on his own keyring very normal #I do like Spam's second pose there haha ♪ Hackles down and demure very cute uwu

42 notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

Text

DCxDP fan fic Idea: Danny Fenton's Ex

Danny wants to know that he did not go looking for a fight. He merely wanted to have some of the best hot dogs this side of the USA, in Tucker's words. The human world had changed a lot across differnt timelines but his best friend had assure him, this one was particually tasty.

He planned to pop in, hunt down the street cart filled with buns and meat, then pop out of Gotham. He was meant to visit for less than an hour at most.

He just happened to be at the wrong place and time. It really wasn't his fault! Danny had been minding his own business, using a paper map on the edge of a tall building (his phone had broken in the last ghost fight. Not that it would do any good since it wasn't connected to any living towers), squinting at the streets below, hoping to figure out where he was. The next thing he knew, an angry child leaped out at him with a sword.

Of course, he defended himself! The kid was doing some insane slashes in the air, and Danny had fought enough samurai ghosts to know not to underestimate how powerful a katana indeed was. He had been able to beat the child, encasing his arms in ecto-chains, after a full half hour of combat.

Danny had been dead tired- pun not intended- but just as he thought he was done, a second child had leaped out at him. This one carrying a bo-staff. It took another thirty minutes to beat this one, and just as he was gearing up for a lecture, a third child appeared.

She was wearing all purple and seemed to favor strong kicks. Danny had the bruise to prove it, but just as he could take her down—and stop the other two from escaping since they were attempting to do so—he was attacked by an actual shadow and her red bucket-head friend.

Now, those two were difficult to beat, especially when it was two vs. one. Shadow reacted as if she could predict all of his moves before he even made them, while Bucket Head made incredible shots with his guns covering her attacks.

Danny had already been expelled from his other two fights, so it was a miracle he was able to trick Shadow by allowing more of Phantom to bleed into his fighting style. She couldn't predict the dead!

He ended up on a roof with five children- okay, more like a child, two teenagers, and what could be the early twenties, but they were all young to him. Each was tied up securely with some of his own ecto-chains and glaring- he could feel the hate in their eyes even behind their masks- trying desperately to catch his breath.

"Oh boy, I'm not as young as I used to be. " He gasps between huffs. Maybe Sam was on to something when she lectured them for not having enough greens, normal exercise routines, or even taking vitamins. They really weren't teenagers anymore. "Ugh, I think I pulled something. I need to lie down..."

Just as Danny is allowing himself to slide to the floor, two more shadows jump at him. This time he's far too tired to dodge, and the blue one manages to land a drop kick to his chin. The force has Danny spinning in place, losing his balance, and slamming hard against the roof.

The tied-up children cheer, and if he wasn't a walking bruise right now, Danny would be half tempted to show them all a round two.

"Great Gatsby!" He cries out of reflex, rolling onto his back, ready to take a swing-

"Danny?" a new familiar voice cuts in. The sound is something Danny will never forget, even after all the years they have been apart. He used to fall asleep to that voice, muttering into his hair and warm arms wrapped around him, making promises never kept.

Danny whips his head around to see a man in a bat costume. He squits, studying the strong curve of a very familiar jaw and his voice-

"Wayne?" He blinks. Those lips- so familiar and different all in one- curve into a surprise, but please smile. Yes, that is definitely Bruce.

"Danny, I haven't seen you since-"

"You broke up with me through a letter on the hotel note-pad? A note-pad that I had to pay for since you touched it!?" Danny hisses, suddenly energized with pure, unadulterated rage. The man freezes.

"I, uh, see you're still upset about that." Wayne winces, shuffling on his feet- Bruce Wayne, the little human he found wandering the Infinite Realms, rescued, helped, trained, and had become human again to have the man dump him to "find himself."

Danny knew he found a lot of ladies on his self-discovery trip. He never forgave him. It has been embarrassing to have to return to the Realms to his friends' knowing eyes and his sister's sad shrug.

You knew a human could never understand or live with beings like us. We aren't like them anymore. She had told him. It was bond to end in disaster.

"What is happening?" The bow-staff kid asks

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Blue tells him.

Danny ignores them to glare at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Wayne?"

Wayne frowns. "You used to call me Bruce."

"I used to do a lot of things, Wayne." Danny stands, gesturing to the group of people he has captured. "Can you kindly disappear again? I'm in the middle of something."

The man makes no move to leave. Instead, he tilts his head. "Those are my children."

"Of course they are." Danny rolls his eyes. "Tell them to not attack innocent tourists-"

"Are you here on vacation? Would you like me to give you a tour?"

The familiar words- the ones from their first date- make rage boil in his core. "Oh, go burn in the worst levels of hell!"

He doesn't stick around for a reply, twisting in a tight circle and ripping a hole into the Realms. He ignores Wayne's call of his name; it's too late- fifteen years too late- and shifts back into Phantom.

He prays he never sees that deadbeat again. Or the family his wife gave him. Not that Danny cares; it's been years, and he could care less what Bruce Wayne and his stupid kin got up to.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bruce, I say this with all my heart, what the fuck was that?"

"That was the one I let get away."

There is a moment of silence before Damian speaks up. "I demand to be taken out of my misery. Mercy, kill me now, Drake."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny Fenton's ex #Part 1 #spirit halloween #Bruce fumbled Danny #Ghost king who is more other then human #Danny was just vibing before the bat clan came swinging #Damian mistook him for a villian #his siblings were trying to save him #Danny is stronger but they gave him a good fight #Bruce misses Danny

2K notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 7 months

Text

true temptation ☆ cl16

genre: sainz!reader, humor, nnn (mommy, i can explain), smut, fluff, whipped!charles, established relationship

word count: 2k

Your boyfriend makes a decision to participate in NNN, but immediately regrets it when he realizes just how difficult it is to stay away from you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, fingering

req!... probably the longest drabble i’ve done so far, but i hope you all enjoy!

“You’re never going to last.”

The Monegasque’ eyes challenge you as you stand there unimpressed, hands on your hips. It had all started with him barging in on you and calling an ‘emergency couple’s meeting’.

Pacing the room, he goes back and forth, mumbling slowly, as if creating a plan up in his head. As far as you’re concerned, he was never going to actually do it. The man was obsessed with you.

“Have a little faith in me,” he groans, hands brushing his hair back in despair.

His so called - ‘emergency’ - was that he would be taking part in No Nut November. No kissing. No sex.

Or anything remotely related to it.

Walking up to him, you pat his chest. His hands find their way down to your waist, doe eyes staring back up at him.

“I will… But I’m going to make your head spin.”

He started off strong. He even felt a bounce in his step when he entered Ferrari Hospitality; he swore he felt like he was walking on sunshine.

“You’re actually doing it?”

Joris, too, had no hope for his friend. He had seen the way the green eyed boy would cling onto you as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. The way he talked about you, even when you weren’t around.

“Oui. Why? Do you not think it’s a good idea?”

His friend tilts his head to the side as he thinks about it for a minute. “Not sure. All I know is that your and Pierre’s bet on who can last longer is never going to end up good. You can’t even go a single second without kissing her!”

“He said he could last longer than me? I have to prove him wrong….” His mind slips over to the last part. “I can live without her kisses for a month. It’ll be fine.”

The Ferrari driver makes his way to his team, properly analyzing what faults his car had and how he can make the best out of it. Frustrated, Charles rubs his eyes.

“I will do the best I can, but I can’t promise a podium. Not with a car like this.”

Taking notes, Xavi nods as he walks away. “Hi, Xavi!” The sound of your voice instantly makes him ease up as he searches for you. His jaw goes slack.

“What are you wearing?”

Smiling wide with eyes crinkled, you rush over to him. “It’s only a dress.”

But it wasn’t just a dress. He knows you did it on purpose, wearing the little black dress he had last fucked you in. It’s the way it fans your thighs as the wind gently teases anyone passing by.

“You’re supposed to be on my team. Are we really going to let Kika and Pierre win?”

Rolling your eyes, you tippy toe, naturally about to kiss him, but stop yourself before you do. He frowns.

“You are sooo right!” You comedically screech as you slap your hands against your cheeks. “I do want us to win! Forget the kiss, my mistake.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

He’s a week in and he’s finally starting to lose his grip.

“You’re sweating buckets, mate,” Daniel points out as he lets out a loud laugh, doing a muppet dive. Charles unbuttons his collared shirt.

“It’s the heat, it’s the heat.”

The Aussie furrows his eyebrows and he raises a hand up to feel the air. Light breeze. Shivering, you strut over to your boyfriend.

“Can we leave? It’s getting too cold.”

And he hates the way that dress clings onto your body, your figure being completely shown off. Nothing but dirty thoughts have entered his mind from the moment he first saw you.

“Sure.”

Kicking off your heels, you throw yourself onto the bed, face first. Shooo tirefff, you mumble against the sheets. He purposefully takes a seat across from you, knowing he’d be tempted to cross the line if he didn’t.

Tossing over, you reach out for him. And he’s about to turn you down, but he notices the way your nose is painted pink - your cheeks, too - and soft, tired eyes meeting his. His heart melts at the sight. So, he reminds himself that a hug with his girlfriend is nothing bad.

Climbing onto his lap, you dig your face into his chest, short dress riding up. He physically has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. Instead, he traces his fingers up and down your spine. You shudder.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck, Charlie?”

Right there, is his breaking point. He’s ready to kiss you, finger you, eat you out, fuck you, anything. But you giggle teasingly as you pull back, a wicked smile drawn.

“Whoops. Never mind.”

He’s known you wouldn’t make this easy on him. It’s almost as if you’ve made it your mission to screw with his head - and while he would normally love it - in this case, it was killing him.

Dance with me, you would beg him and you sway in front of him. It was a rare moment of it just being you two, so naturally, you took advantage of it. You showered, did your skincare, watched a movie, but the moment you heard Sparks by Coldplay echoing from his phone, you immediately jumped up like a bunny.

Then, his heart would melt, and melt, and melt - and melt some more. It would only be a reminder of what a perfect match you both were. He would memorize your face once again; no makeup, eyebags due to long travels with him, a small cut on the bridge of your nose from earlier when Lando had accidentally hit you with his frisbee, pink lips he so desperately missed.

He would oblige, the way you knew he would. He found home within you as you would both sway, your feet on top of his as he would lead you both, you having to do nothing but close your eyes and feel his heartbeat. And it was so sweet to know that it was only yours.

I love you, he would remind you as if he didn’t already tell you a million times before. As if it were a way to make up for all this. And you would say-

“I know.”

“How are you keeping up?”

The Frenchman smiles proudly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m actually doing fine. You?”

Charles gulps, green eyes following to where you stand next to Kika.

“Good.”

“It’s actually not that hard.”

Kika and you had been touching up on your boyfriend's challenge. She would say it as if it were the easiest thing. You slump against your chair.

“That’s not fair… Mine has the most beautiful face ever!”

“Hey!”

You squeal as she aims a pillow at you. I’m sorry! The Portuguese laughs too, sticking her tongue out. You sigh. “I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah…”

“Have we seriously just been talking about how horny we are?”

“Don’t say it like that!” She bites her lip. “We have.”

“Why did they ever think this was going to be a good idea?”

Propping her arm against the table, she beams. “It’s not, but I heard from Pierre about how much Charles is struggling.” You groan.

“Yeah, well that’s nothing but his own fault.”

It’s now been 2 weeks and he’s already given up. His pleads were convincing.

C’mon, baby. Let me fuck you.

It’s been too long. I miss the way you taste.

But you stood your ground.

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, running away. Seeing Carlos, you hide behind him. “You brought this onto yourself! Now you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Confused, Carlos questions you both on what you’re talking about. It’s just that your sister won’t let me-

“Stop! That’s my brother!”

The Monegasque shrugs as Carlos turns to you. What is he talking about? Your face burns up as you brush him off. “Nada, nada - he’s just being a jerk.” And so, he believes it and walks away, too tired to deal with any of it.

You let out a squeal when Charles plunges towards you. He picks you up, carrying you to his motorhome.

“Let go!”

Dropping you onto his small bed, he stares down at you like a lion salivating over their prey. You suppress a whimper, clamming your legs shut. He raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you don’t want the same thing I do? I promise I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

Closing your eyes, you can picture it. You can feel him already, pressed up against you. You do want it, you do. Opening your eyes, you shake your head.

“Just two more weeks to go.”

“We lost.” Taken aback, you snort. What do you mean? Your friend blushes before dragging you to the corner. “I mean that last night Pierre and I went out for dinner and one thing led to another and-”

“Okay, okay, I caught on!”

Giggling, she shimmies her shoulders towards you. “What are you going to do?” You pout as you stare back blankly. She sighs. “I’m talking about you and Charles! I mean you both already won - you could do whateverrrr you want.”

Stuttering, you cough before saying, “You made it loud and clear, thank you very much.”

Shivering, you climb into the passenger's seat of his Pista as you thank him for opening and closing your door. As soon as he climbs in, he turns on the heater. The Monaco streets were lonely, everyone already in their homes, sheltering from the light rain that had picked up.

“You want to pull over?”

You sound so sweet asking that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating or that any second now you’re going to surprise him with a, just kidding!

But he quickly could tell you weren’t and he doesn’t want to let the moment slip away. Not when he’s been waiting for so long. Screw it if he lost.

Pulling over on the side of an isolated street, he hauls you onto his lap. You thank the universe for skirts. Pushing your panties aside, his long fingers slide against your wet folds. You let out a wail.

“Fuck, you don’t know how I’ve missed hearing you.” He slides two fingers in. “Feeling you.”

Dazed, you find yourself grinding on his fingers. Every single time they would brush against your g-spot, you would kiss him harder. He slips them out, bringing them up to his lips.

And he moans in a way you’ve never heard before. So fucking sweet. Blushing, you lean in to kiss him. You can still taste yourself.

“Charles, please - do something.”

Never during your entire relationship has he ever fucked you as hard as he did that day. His grip on your waist hurt, but it hurt so good. His cock would continuously brush against where you needed him the most, so much so, he left you seeing stars. Drooling all over him, you hold onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down rapidly.

“So tight – So warm.” He chokes when you ground your hips deeper. “So fucking good.”

Then, he finishes inside of you. His fingers slide down to your clit as he rubs it. You finish with a loud cry. Kissing you one last time, he slaps your ass. You scowl playfully.

“Admit it - you’ve missed it, too.”

“Just a few more weeks and you would have won!” Pierre clicks his tongue before kicking his legs up against the table in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’m never doing that again.”

Kika smacks the Frechman’s thigh. “You both lost, remember? Only, you did before him.” The Monegasque quickly springs up.

“You’re saying we won?”

“You’re acting as if this were the fucking Olympics, Cha.” You drag him by the arm to sit back down as he starts celebrating his ‘accomplishment of the year’.

“What are we clapping about?”

Your brother strolls over to an open seat as he opens up a water bottle. Hurriedly, you screech, “Nothing! Only that the season is almost over-”

“He’s yapping about how he won No Nut November, except, he didn’t. 2 weeks and fucking does not count.”

“You did what?”

Jumping up, Charles trips over his feet as he tries backing away from the angry Spaniard. “I think I forgot my phone! I’ll be right back!”

Chasing after him, your brother yells out, “That’s my baby sister, cabrón!”

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader

4K notes · View notes