#like what if you all actually hate me and don’t even like me or think of me at all..

[splendidcas]

At Last (Part 2)

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Johnny Storm x AFAB!Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: smutty smut smutttttt at the end, oral (m + f receiving), use of pet names like princess and babygirl (no daddy kink involved), cursing, johnny is a needy lil lover boy

Summary: Now that you've found your soulmate, it's time to meet the family. I'm shit at summaries

A/N: I rly just sat here for 5 hours straight writing this bro lmao jesus anyways it's been years since I wrote smut so pls excuse any rustiness, hope it's good sexy timeessssss. feedback gives me life!

x

The Etta James record had ended a while ago, but neither you nor Johnny had paid it any mind. You certainly couldn’t focus on anything else, not while Johnny’s lips were currently attached to your neck. 

“God, I could kiss you for forever,” he mumbled against your skin.

The two of you had been making out for god knows how long, and your head and heart were spinning. All you could focus on was how good his lips felt against your skin, the way your body seemed to innately know that this man was made for you, the only thought rattling around in your brain was “he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.”

His lips finally started trailing lower at the same time your hands did, and that’s when a knock sounded at his door, startling you both out of your stupor. 

“Johnny?”

The two of you barely had any time to react before Sue Storm was opening the door, a surprised expression on her face when she walked into the room. Your hands were on Johnny’s chest, his on your waist, and Sue gave Johnny a knowing look. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Johnny had a guest,” she remarked, a small smirk on her face. 

Johnny placed his hands on your shoulders, an excited look on his face. “Why, dear sister of mine, this is not just any guest. This…is my soulmate.”

Sue blinked in shock, her eyes suddenly taking you in fully, before she laughed in delight. “Oh—oh my god! I don’t know what to say, I mean…wow, it is so great to finally meet you!” She immediately rushed over to give you a crushing hug, granting a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’m Sue Storm,” she said, grinning.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, breathless and blushing. “It’s an honor to meet you.” 

Sue gave you one last look and smile, squeezing your arm affectionately before turning to her brother. “Well I really hate to interrupt this, but the gala’s about to end and the firm wants us to say our goodbyes to the guests.” 

Johnny nodded, and Sue began to head out of the room before turning around briefly. “It’s truly so wonderful to meet you, Y/N.”

You smiled. “You too.” 

Sue left the door open a crack after she left, and Johnny turned to you then, holding your hands in his. “Would it be okay if you hung back in the crowd? I honestly don’t think I want to share you with the world just yet.” He smiled nervously, thumb brushing the back of your hand.

Reality truly set in at his admittance. The world. The whole world would soon find out who you are, what your life is like, who you are to Johnny. Your life may never be truly private again…and the fact that Johnny had even considered that was something you genuinely appreciated. You weren’t quite ready to be shared with the world either. 

“That’s completely fine. I don’t think I want you to share me quite yet either.” 

Johnny smiled. “I’ll find you after?” You nodded, and he placed a quick kiss to your hand before jogging after Sue.

Whew. You couldn’t stop smiling, your mind still reeling from your brand new reality. Never in your wildest dreams was your soulmate ever actually Johnny Storm. You briefly considered pinching yourself, but not even your dreams could feel as real as Johnny’s lips against yours. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before walking out of Johnny’s room and back to the gala. You realized, walking towards the middle of the crowd, that you felt completely at ease now. Because now, it felt like you belonged here. 

“Attention,” Reed Richards appeared from above on the balcony overlooking the crowd as he tapped the glass he was holding, and Ben, Sue and Johnny appeared beside him. You could see Johnny scanning the crowd, and once he found you, he gave you a grin and a wink, making your heart skip a beat. The crowd went quiet for the first time this evening at Reed’s words. “Thank you all so, so much for being here with us tonight. I truly feel like we’re going to change lives with the amount of money we have raised. I want to give a special thank you to our incredible PR firm for putting this all together for us. You all are amazing, and we truly appreciate every one of you. Unfortunately for Sue and I, baby duty awaits, so we’ll have to call it a night.” A chuckle rang through the crowd. “Goodnight everyone, get home safe!”

The crowd finally began to disperse, and you walked over to lean against the wall as you waited for Johnny. 

“Y/N?”

You looked up, and finally someone from your PR firm had found you. Your boss.

“Hey, how was your evening?” You asked.

“It was lovely. How was yours? Everything you ever dreamed of?” She smirked. She was the person you begged for a ticket, so you were certain she figured you were a superhero fangirl. 

“Uh,” you began, when you spotted Johnny jogging down the steps, making a beeline for you. You tried to hide your smile. “Yep, totally,” you said, trying to sound sarcastic. “I really do appreciate you getting me this ticket. You have no idea what it means for me.”

“No problem. Just remember it comes out of your paycheck for the next 6 months!” She said as she walked away. 

Johnny finally made his way to you as the last of the crowd finally made their way out of the building.

“Hi,” he said, beaming at you.

Your grin could probably split your face in two. “Hi.”

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, when another voice rang out. 

“Who’s this?”

Reed Richards made his way down the stairs with an intrigued look on his face, Ben and Sue following close behind with knowing smiles.

“That’s Johnny’s soulmate,” Ben and Sue said simultaneously. They both turned to each other in confusion.

“How’d you know that?” All three of them asked each other at the same time. 

You giggled. “Does that happen a lot?” You leaned in to ask Johnny quietly. 

“More than you would expect,” he murmured.

Reed finally approached you, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Reed Richards. It’s…a pleasure to meet you.” He looked between you and Johnny, the gears turning in his head as if he was trying to figure you and your dynamic out. 

You shook his hand, nervous butterflies twirling in your stomach at being in a room alone with the most famous superheroes on the planet. “The pleasure is all mine, truly.” 

“So, when did you two meet?” He asked. 

“Tonight,” Johnny replied. “I spotted her wearing my ring.” 

“And he had on the bracelet I made him this year,” you added. 

Reed gave you a small smile. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations to you both!”

“Alright, it’s my turn,” Ben suddenly interjected, walking over towards you before giving you a sweet, crushing hug and lifting you in the air, a surprised laugh escaping you. “It’s so great to meet you, Y/N.”

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Johnny asked, staring at you with pride. “I can’t stop staring at her.” 

Ben, Sue and Reed all exchanged surprised but happy looks. Johnny had always been forward with women in the past, but never so much so in front of his family. “That she is, Johnny,” Ben agreed. “That she is.”

Sue walked over to you and placed a hand on your back, ushering you towards the kitchen. “I know it’s late, but could I make you something to drink?”

“I would love that.”

You and Sue made your way over to the kitchen while the guys hung back, watching the two of you talk. 

“So, how do you feel, Johnny?” Ben asked.

Johnny was still staring at you in wonder. “I’m in love,” he sighed.

Ben chuckled, and Reed raised his eyebrows in surprise. Johnny narrowed his eyes. “I know, I know. I only met her a few hours ago. But—“

“It’s okay,” Reed interjected. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel with your soulmate. It’s just..strange to hear you talk like that is all.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But man, it’s…wow.” 

“You certainly have a way with words, Johnny,” Ben teased, earning him a glare. 

“Boys?” Sue called out from the kitchen table next to you, earning the men’s attention. “You three gonna stand there and stare or would you like to join us?” 

All of you sat around their kitchen table, and you were surprised to realize that this all felt…normal. Comfortable, even. Like this is the way it was always supposed to be, despite the fact that you were sitting with people who saved the world on a daily basis while you had sat back and watched on your television screen. 

Reed was the first to speak, his eyes on the shining ring sitting perfectly on your left hand. “So you two are already…engaged?” 

You and Johnny looked at each other and smiled bashfully. “We are,” he answered, his hand finding yours under the table. 

Reed was quiet, clearly having a million thoughts running through his head by the second.

“What are you thinking?” Sue asked, her eyes narrowed at her husband. “I know that look.”

“Nothing!” Reed exclaimed, holding his hands up in the air innocently. “It’s just…a bit quick is all.”

Johnny’s hand tightened around yours, almost protectively. 

“Reed, I don’t remember us even really talking much right after we first met. We were too busy…” Sue trailed off, giving him a look.

Johnny grimaced. “Okay, did not need to know that.” 

Sue laughed, shrugging. 

“Look at em’, Reed,” Ben said, gesturing to the two of you. “They look like they’ve been in love for years. Johnny’s practically got hearts comin’ out of his eyes.”

Johnny wiggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh. “It’s true. I already feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” 

“And I, personally, have never heard Johnny talk like this with anyone else,” Sue pointed out with a smile. 

Reed looked at the two of you again before finally giving a small nod and a smile. “I do have to agree on that.” 

Johnny raised your interlocked hands to kiss your knuckles. 

“So Y/N, tell us about yourself?” Sue asked.

An hour later, the five of you were laughing hysterically, sharing life stories and memories, mostly embarrassing ones of Johnny, to your amusement. It was the most at ease around a group of virtual strangers you’d ever felt. But they weren’t strangers, not really. This…this was now your family.

“His fly was down the whole time,” Ben managed through laughter. “Didn’t tell him until after the camera’s stopped rolling.”

Johnny was smiling despite his blush. “Yeah, thank you again for that, by the way.” 

All of you were still laughing when a knock sounded at the front door. “Ah, that’d be the babysitter,” Sue said as she got up to answer the door.

Johnny leaned towards you then, muttering to you, “How are you? You okay?” You were suddenly very aware of the warm hand now on your upper thigh. 

You nodded, giving him a smile. “I’m perfect.” 

“That you are.” 

Sue wandered back into the kitchen, her babbling 8 month old son on her hip. “Babysitter said he just woke up from a nap, so he’ll be up for a while. He’s basically nocturnal at this point.”

Reed, Johnny and Ben stood up to greet their little guy, and you tentatively followed. 

“How’s my favorite little magic baby, huh?” Johnny exclaimed, grabbing Franklin’s foot and tickling it, making him giggle.

Sue turned towards you. “Franklin, this is Y/N,” she started, trying to get Franklin to look at you. “She’s gonna be your auntie someday.” 

You slowly approached him, giving him a warm smile and a wave. “Hey, little guy. You are so adorable.”

Franklin babbled happily and held his arms out towards you, surprising you.

“I think he wants you,” Sue grinned. “Do you want to hold him? Are you comfortable?” 

“Yeah, I’d love that.” 

You took little Franklin in your arms, laughing as he placed his little hands on your cheeks and giggled. You bounced him on your hip, talking nonsense to him as you slowly began walking around the room with him. 

“Johnny,” Sue said quietly as she stood next to Johnny. “She’s perfect. Seriously.” 

Johnny swallowed, still watching you play with his nephew in your arms. “I know. It’s a little scary, honestly. But I’m…I’m really excited. I wanna do this.”

Sue smiled. “I felt the same with Reed. Once you meet your person, everything starts happening all at once. But just…enjoy it. Take in every moment for what it is, and let yourself feel the way you feel. You’re supposed to feel totally in love and terrified at the same time.” 

Johnny looked down at his sister, giving her a small smile that she returned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise.” She squeezed her brother’s shoulder before making her way over to you, gently taking Franklin from your arms. “You two have had a very big night, and it’s getting pretty late, so we’ll leave you two alone.” 

“It was so amazing to meet you all,” you said. “Thank you all so much for being so welcoming.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Ben said. “You’re part of the family now.” 

Sue came over and gave you one last hug, Reed giving you a nod and a smile, and the four of them all went to their respective quarters. 

“So…” you began, biting your lip as you looked up at Johnny. 

He placed his hands on your hips, squeezing them gently. “So…”

Tension suddenly grew in the air, butterflies swarming your stomach as your mind wandered back to the way he’d been kissing you a few hours prior. “Um, I know it’s late, so I can head out…”

Johnny shook his head. “Stay. Please? I mean you could stay forever, if you wanted, but at least the night—”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll stay.” 

“YES.” He dramatically pumped his fist in the air before sweeping you off your feet and into his arms, bridal style, and walked you to his bedroom. 

“Oh shit, wait,” you exclaimed as he put you down. “I gotta call Violet so she doesn’t think I’m dead.” 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Johnny went over and closed his bedroom door, and you didn’t miss the fact that he actually locked it this time. He plopped down onto his bed and laid on his side, watching you as you placed your phone to your ear. 

“Violet? Hey, yeah I’m fine,” you began, mindlessly wandering around his room.

Johnny flopped backwards, his head hitting his pillow as he stared up on his ceiling while you spoke with your friend. This was, hands down, the best night of his life. You, the person he prayed to the universe for, dreamed about his whole life, were finally here. You were beautiful, and not just that, but you fit in with his family perfectly. It was abundantly clear that you were made for him, and Johnny had never been happier. Not even being in space could compare to the joy he was feeling now. 

“Ow,” you exclaimed, capturing his attention. He sat up and saw you holding your phone away from your ear, the sound of high-pitched screaming coming through the phone making you laugh and shake your head. “Vi. Violet. Yes, I know you told me so….put you on speaker? Fine, hold on.” You pulled the phone away from your ear again and pressed the speaker button. “Alright, you’re on speaker.”

“Johnny Storm?”

Johnny looked at you, quirking a brow as he spoke. “This is the one.”

“Holy shit!” Your friend exclaimed from the other line. “Listen, I just wanted you to know that I totally knew it was you the whole time! I tried to tell her but she refused to listen to me!”

Johnny laughed as you ran a hand down your face in exasperation. “I appreciate that, Violet. I only wish you could’ve brought her to me sooner.” 

Violet squealed, and you bit your lip at the hungry stare he was suddenly giving you. 

“Um, Violet, listen, I gotta go now,” you said, your voice a little higher pitched than normal, your eyes still trained on your soulmate’s. 

“Ohhh I get it, you two are gonna bone now,” Violet laughed through the speaker. 

“Violet!” You smacked your forehead, white hot embarrassment creeping up your neck while Johnny laughed out loud. “I’m hanging up now.”

“BYE, HAVE FUN BANGING A SUPERHE—“ You immediately hit the “End Call” button.

“I’m, uh. Sorry about her.”

Johnny chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Don’t be.” The silence that followed was charged with something else now, his eyes wandering freely over your form. “We could, y’know. If…you wanted.”

“Could what?”

Johnny looked around the room as if it were obvious. “Bone.”

You busted out laughing as you walked over and stood between his legs. Your hands found either side of his face, your thumbs affectionately brushing his cheeks. “How romantic.”

“Sorry,” Johnny muttered sheepishly, his hands coming up to rest on your waist. “New to the whole ‘soulmate’ thing.” 

You smiled. “I am too. But we can go at our own pace. However slow or fast we want.” 

Johnny swallowed thickly, his hands squeezing your waist. “And…how slow or fast would you like to go?” 

Your heart was pounding in anticipation, desire beginning to swirl in your lower belly. You couldn’t deny that all of this felt right, and timing be damned, you wanted him. So you said nothing, instead choosing to answer by leaning down and capturing his lips in a deep kiss. 

Johnny immediately let out a groan against your lips that sent heat directly to your core. He pulled you towards him by your hips until you were straddling him, your dress now hiked up against your waist and his hard length hitting your core perfectly. Your fingers carded through his hair as he kissed you harder, his tongue sliding against yours as he bucked his hips up into you. 

“Johnny,” you groaned, grinding down against him.

“God, yeah, say my name like that again,” he panted, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin that they could reach. 

You bit your lip, forehead resting against his as you continued to grind against him. His cock was rubbing against your clit with exact precision, growing desire building hotter. “Johnny,” you panted into his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter. 

“Please let me see you,” he breathed out, staring up at you with wide, needy eyes. 

You got off his lap and stood up, removing the straps from your dress and letting it fall down to your ankles with a quiet thud, leaving you in a strapless bra and lace panties as you kicked off your heels.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. He got down onto his knees on the floor then, his hands slowly moving up your thighs as he stared up at you reverently. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You swore your heart fluttered inside your chest. There was Johnny Storm, on his knees for you, staring up at you like you were the answer to every prayer he’s ever had. And truly, you were. You were about to respond when he suddenly began pressing sweet, sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, and your brain immediately went fuzzy. His fingers went to the edge of your panties, yanking them down to your ankles before you stepped out of them. 

Your lower half now bare before him, your instinct was to hide yourself, but Johnny was having none of that, gently swatting your hands away. “No no no, please don’t hide from me, princess,” he muttered, eyes locked onto your core. His thumb pressed against your clit, the flash of sensitivity jolting you forward, your hands on his shoulders steadying you. “So fucking pretty, every part of you. Can’t believe this pussy is mine.”

Swoon. 

Johnny then replaced his thumb with his lips, his mouth wrapping around your sensitive bud and sucking hard. Your knees damn near buckled from the sensation, his wet, hot mouth wasting no time in tasting you completely. He licked a broad stripe through your soaked folds, a guttural groan escaping him at your taste. Your fingers tightened in his hair, instinctively pulling him closer to you, and his hands went around to squeeze your ass. 

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling away just slightly. “You wanna ride my face, princess?

Jesus H. Christ. You nodded vigorously, and Johnny lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He stood up, practically ripping his shirt and pants off and kicking his shoes off before laying back down on the bed, staring up at you expectantly. 

You bit your lip, grinning as you made your way over and climbed on top of him. His hot breath against your core alone was enough to have you shutting your eyes, the desire coursing through your veins making your heart race in anticipation. 

Johnny placed his hands against your ass and practically shoved you against his mouth, wasting no time in eating you like a man starved. At any other time, the sounds escaping your lips would’ve made you embarrassed. But you couldn’t care less, not when they seemed to spur Johnny on even more. Every whine, every moan that you let out had him bucking his hips up in the air, desperate for some kind of friction. You leaned backwards instinctively, hand reaching out and gripping his hard cock through his boxer briefs. 

“Fucking shit,” Johnny grunted against you, bucking up into your hand. His lips were relentless against your clit now, the wet sounds of his tongue against your soaking wet core so loud. It was unbearably hot.

“‘M close,” you whimpered, your hips grinding into his mouth. The coil low inside your belly was winding tighter and tighter, you just needed…

Johnny hummed against you, and the vibrations from his mouth were exactly what you needed to fall over the edge. Stars exploded behind your eyes as the pleasure coursed through you, his tongue working you through it with one hand still on your ass and the other grabbing at your breast.

Both of you panted as you came down, tired yet energized smiles on your faces. You climbed off of him and moved lower on the bed to straddle his legs, your face now inches from the tent in his underwear. You smirked at him.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, his head falling back onto the pillow. “You—you don’t have to…”

“I know,” you interrupted. Your hands gripped the bottom of his boxer briefs, pulling them down until his cock sprang free. You swallowed, staring greedily at him. He was perfection, and you wanted to taste him so bad. 

Johnny felt like he had just died and went to heaven. You were staring so prettily up at him, almost innocent-looking, like you weren’t about to suck him off. He was certain he looked stupid, his mouth hanging open in anticipation for what you were about to do, but he didn’t care. He was too focused on your pretty little mouth and the dirty things you were about to do with it. 

You leaned down and licked the entire length of his cock, one hand gently cradling his balls, the other gripping his thigh. The desperate, choked groan that came out of him had your pussy clenching, the sound spurring you on. You opened your mouth wide and took him all the way, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking. Johnny gasped, his hands finding their way to your hair as his hips bucked forward of their own accord. He was desperately moving the hair out of your face so he could see you, watch you move perfectly over his cock. You set up an easy rhythm, relaxing your throat as much as you could as tears hit the corners of your eyes. He was trying so hard not to lose control, his hips bucking up as you took him all the way, your hand still playing with his balls. 

“Wait wait wait,” he panted out suddenly, trying to gently pull you off of him. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that. “’s too good.”

You swallowed and nodded, wiping your mouth with a smile that made his cock twitch. 

“C’mere,” he muttered, holding his arms out for you. You climbed over his body and into his arms, kissing him once more. 

“Johnny,” you whispered against his lips. “Want you so bad.” 

He nodded, biting his lip. “I got you, baby girl.” 

He rolled over so you were underneath him now, his fingers interlocking with yours as he kissed you. You spread your legs wider for him, your free hand roaming the expanse of his back. He pulled away then, stopping just to look at you. You could feel his heart pounding, his breathing heavier. 

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he admitted, his eyes roaming across your face. “Imagined what it would be like. What you would be like.” 

You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek, your heart warming at the way he nuzzled into it, his eyes briefly fluttering shut. “Me too. But it’s so much better than I could’ve thought.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you. “Yeah, you are.” He kissed you again then, his hand gliding down to hike your thigh over his hip. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, unable to wait anymore, your hips bucking up desperately against him. “Please.”

The tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, the breath you were holding escaping you while you relaxed into it. He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours as he pushed deeper, your walls stretching deliciously to accommodate him. 

“God, you feel fucking incredible,” he grunted, eyes shut tight as he worked himself in. 

You cried out in relief as he bottomed out, the pleasure unbelievably intense, more than you’d ever experienced. This is what it’s always supposed to be like, you briefly thought. He set up an easy pace, pumping into you leisurely to allow you to adjust to him. His hands and mouth were everywhere, unable to get enough of you. All of your senses were on fire, and you needed more. 

“Faster,” you pleaded, lifting your hips upward to drive him deeper.

He lifted his head to look up at you, a flash of a grin on his face. “Yeah? You want it harder, princess?”

You nodded, and he wasted no time in giving you exactly what you asked for. He was fucking into you now at a punishing pace, so deep, so hard, that his headboard began slamming into the wall with his every thrust. 

The sounds in his bedroom alone were almost enough to make you come. The headboard hitting the wall, Johnny’s desperate panting and needy groans, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. The pressure inside your lower belly began to build once more, your hips meeting his with every thrust.

“I’m close,” you whimpered, desperately clawing at his back.

He nodded against your forehead. “Yeah, yeah—fuck—me too.” He reached down to rub your clit, and that was all you needed for the dam inside you to break. The pressure built and built until it exploded, your hands gripping him tight as you shouted his name. He followed you over the edge moments later with a cry of your name, spilling into you until there was nothing left. 

The two of you caught your breath for several minutes, your head resting on his chest as his breathing evened out. He brought your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles. 

“I know this is crazy,” he said quietly. “But I think I love you.” 

You beamed. If it were any other person but your soulmate, it would be crazy. But it wasn’t. It was the only thing in the world that actually made sense. 

You looked up at him, saw the vulnerability and nervousness in his eyes. Your thumb brushed his cheek, your heart squeezing with affection as he leaned into it. “I think I love you too.” 

Johnny’s smile threatened to split his face in two before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy, the weight of the day finally getting to you. “‘M sleepy.”

Johnny nuzzled into your hair. “Me too. It’s okay. Sweet dreams, princess.”

The next morning, Johnny woke up before you did. Your back was to his chest, his arms wrapped around your middle, your hands tangled with his. His heart fluttered. It wasn’t a dream, he thought, smiling. 

Carefully and slowly, he untangled himself from you and left the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. He tiptoed to the kitchen, where Ben was having a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. “Morning,” Johnny greeted cheerfully, opening all of the cabinets and drawers. 

Ben furrowed his brow, turning around to look at Johnny. “Uh, morning, what are you doing?”

Johnny didn’t even turn to look at his friend as he searched for all the ingredients he needed. “Gonna make breakfast in bed for Y/N.”

“You’ve never cooked a day in your life.” 

Johnny finally looked at him, a sly grin on his face. “I know. That’s why you’re gonna help me.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head but standing up anyway. “Alright, fine. But only on one condition.”

“What?”

Ben looked at Johnny with a knowing, unamused expression. “You let Reed install the 100% soundproof walls in your room that he’s currently in his lab working on.”

Johnny furrowed his brow. “What? Soundproof walls, why?”

Ben stared blankly.

Oh. 

Johnny grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Deal.”

[cloverapple]

Sue me, but I think you’ll make more progress in five minutes of spiraling than in five years of trying to shift.

Hear me out:

Ever heard binaural beats? Put 528 Hz in one ear, 520 Hz in the other. You don’t actually hear either one directly. Your brain locks onto the difference: 8 Hz. Your awareness detects contradiction because it effectively responds to dissonance.

Reality works exactly like that. When you're fully holding:

“I already have it” AND “But I don’t see it right now,” you're living in a frequency clash.

The system hates that. Awareness can’t remain in pure contradiction. So it starts syncing to the resolution. It starts looking for that “8 Hz” that makes sense of the noise.

And when you crash out—when you’re crying, screaming, losing your mind over how the logic literally does not add up, because you KNOW, in every fiber of you, that this thing is yours but it’s not appearing—that moment is not a failure.

It’s not you wavering, it’s your awareness detecting a mismatch and equalizing.

The illusion is that you need to “believe better” or “assume more correctly” or “stay calm” for things to shift. Noooo. Realizing the bullshit is the gateway and crashing out is the recalibration. You're slamming two contradictory states together so hard that awareness is forced to adjust the observable reality to match your strongest signal— which, in that moment, is: “I KNOW I HAVE IT, BECAUSE I CAN’T INTEND TO HAVE SOMETHING AND NOT HAVE IT, SO IT MUST BE RIGHT HERE. I KNOW IT’S HERE, THE LACK IS FAKE!”

That creates movement. Five minutes of looking around at your CR like “I know I already have it, so what the fuck is this??” hits your awareness like a seismic wave.

Don’t fear the contradiction because you think wavering and checking the 3d kills your intention. Because the frequency of that dissonance is the only sound awareness can’t unhear.

“Wait, but won’t I then be observing a reality where I have it, but don’t see it?”

Well, is that what you intend? I know you’re smart. You intend to have your desire already. To shift. Now let go of this awful idea that they implanted in your mind, that if you check for proof, automatically you’re done for.

Check for proof, because if you don’t see it in front of your eyes right this second while intending to have it, then what you’re seeing simply isn’t real. Remember that the proof that you have your desire, is not seeing your desire itself, but the action (intention) you took to have that outcome.

I know you feel crazy. I know you’re practically tearing your hair out and wondering what the hell you’re doing wrong, why you’re not shifting.

But your logic is fine. Your sanity’s intact. What you’re feeling is the pressure of suppressed knowing. Like trying to sit calm in a burning building because someone told you you had to “trust.”

No. Scream. Bust the fucking door down. Delete Tumblr. Tell these bloggers (myself included) to shove their advice. You don’t need all of this, because you already know what’s yours. That’s why you can’t quit or let this go.

When you’re crashing out in tears, you’re not “blocking your manifestation,” you’re sweating it out like a fever breaking.

Stop thinking the dissonance means you’re wrong. It means you’re too right to ignore.

Caveat: the way I shifted after two years (more like a decade tbh, I’ve known about quantum jumping since I was ≈10) was by questioning the glitch, crashing out, and calling out the bullshit.

Even now, the way I continue to expand my consciousness, simplify my way of shifting/manifesting, and learn (realize) new things always comes back to:

“if I know w, have x, and can do y, THEN LOGICALLY I HAVE Z”

That’s why—to me—calling out the flaw in the illusion always works no matter what.

[thranduel]

people getting so angry at this tweet is shocking to me, because it wasn’t even hateful.

according to them, if you don’t think a female character should stay in an unhealthy relationship that she was forced into at the age of 12 after knowing a boy for 6 days, it must mean you hate her because she can apparently only be happy with that boy, and if we take that boy away from her, she’s going to be depressed and suffer (which we KNOW isn’t true).

it’s also very weird these people are defending m*leven (and attacking bylers for apparently “not watching the show and not caring about the characters”, even though WE actually care about both people in our ship equally) and they keep saying how el should end up with mike because “he makes her happy” but there is never, ever, ever anything explaining exactly how el makes mike happy, or more importantly, how she gives him strength and comforts him emotionally and supports him when he’s struggling mentally, because that literally doesn’t happen, and they do not care.

to them, m*leven is only about el. her feelings are their priority, not mike’s mental health.

and yes, we are aware he loves her as a person and he’s grateful for everything she’s done. he’s happy when he feels needed and he probably feels very cool knowing he’s dating a superhero, so of course he’s going to smile about that. but emotionally and mentally (the MOST important things in a relationship, especially at their age and after what they’ve been through), he gets absolutely no type of support like that. it’s always mike bending over backwards for el trying to figure out the right words to say and to not lose her and to make her feel better but when has he ever gotten asked how HE’S feeling mentally after all the bullying, trauma, anxiety, fear and literally jumping off a cliff? the only thing he got when he mentioned that while trying to help her was invalidation.

“you’ve seen it. i’ve been bullied my entire life. i know what it’s like.”

“no. you don’t.”

we KNOW el has been through such different things that nobody understands. we know. we are not mad at her for that in the slightest. we understand exactly why it’s harder for her. but THAT is exactly why we don’t like mike and el in a relationship together, because it is simply not fair or equal. nobody is blaming el for her trauma. we’re blaming the WRITERS for this forced, rushed, unhealthy ship. these kids needs to HEAL, not make out, and it shouldn’t be a crime or misogynistic to say that. nobody said el couldn’t ever eventually be in a relationship either, of course she can. she deserves to love and be loved and experience that. they’re just saying THIS specific relationship was rushed, and to this day, does not feel fair to either of them, because it’s true.

every time a person defends this ship, it’s always “because it’s what el wants”, “because it’s good for el”, “because the script said mike gave her strength with the monologue”, but when are we ever going to think about mike as an actual individual person instead of reducing him to el’s boyfriend? because people treat him like he’s a side character only used as some sort of prop to uplift the main character but he never gets any of that back. that’s literally what he was reduced to in season 4. he was upset and drowning in insecurities and thinking about what he has to do to make el feel better while nobody was thinking about mike’s mental health EXCEPT for will, who was the only person who ended up listening to his struggles (not invalidating him and shutting him down) and then he gave him strength and made him so happy.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to getting angry at their s/o

Request: hii!! love your work <3 could i get ot13 in anger? like full blown anger directed their s/o!!! and how they'd deal w it. thank you

A/N: so uhhhh I think i've done angry stuff already but idk arguments counted? so i'm doing just in case arguments didn't count as being angry 💀

Angry but devastated after — Seungcheol, Jun, Dokyeom, Mingyu

not in a scary way, but in a raised voice, frustrated, pacing type of way, he decides to snap. “why would you do that without talking to me first?!” or “do you even care how that made me feel?” you rarely fight like this, so it explodes all at once. but the moment he sees you shrink back or tear up, it’s over. his heart drops to the fucking floor. he runs a hand down his face, instantly regretting his tone. he doesn’t walk away, but instead, he reaches for your hand, “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m just upset. let me fix it. please.”

Tries to hold it in, but it spills out — Joshua, Wonwoo, Woozi, Minghao

he’s usually calm. rational and quiet. but this time it's a bit different. He clenches his jaw and says something that he didn't want to. something like, “do you even listen to me?” or “you think that was okay?” or “can’t you even do this one thing right???” or something worse. the room goes tense, because he never yells, but his words cut deep. and right after it’s out, his chest tightens with guilt. he stays quiet, avoids your eyes, and later he comes over with his head low, voice even lower than... idk “i didn’t want to hurt you. i was angry and i didn’t handle it well. i’m so, so sorry.” he's the type to also write you a message if he can’t say out loud yet.

Lashes out, then immediately spirals – Jeonghan, Seungkwan, Dino

he hates feeling hurt, so he deflects it. that deflection hits you. “fine, do what you want!” or “why am i always the one trying?” the second it leaves his mouth, he sees the way your face falls, and he panics. like, actual panic. walks out of the room, comes back three minutes later with red-rimmed eyes and veryyyyy slightly sharking. “i didn’t mean it,” he pulls you into a hug you didn’t know he needed so badly. “i was scared. and that turned into anger. please don’t think i meant that. i love you.”

Freezes up, then emotionally explodes — Hoshi, Vernon

at first? nothing. he just goes quiet. but that silence is cold, and you can feel the tension building behind his eyes. then he finally blurts out something like, “i can’t believe you did that,” or “it’s like you don’t even care sometimes.” he’s overwhelmed. doesn’t know how to argue without shutting down or snapping. but once the anger cools, he softens very fast. stares at you for a long moment before pulling you in by the wrist. “i was so mad. but i never stopped loving you.” he’s bad at apologies, but his touch and eyes says everything.

[lonerslug]

I have a theory.. I feel like sevika would HATEE when the reader cracks their bones (like cracking your knuckles on your neck) around her😭 I feel like it makes her annoyed or uncomfortable LMAOO could u maybe turn this into a fic?👀

stop doing that

fluffy crack

You didn’t think it was that loud.

Just a casual twist of your neck to the left, then a tilt to the right. The satisfying double pop of vertebrae lining back into place. A little knuckle crack combo to follow it up. Harmless. Helpful and therapeutic.

But Sevika?

She reacts like you just stabbed her in the gut.

Her entire face twists, brow crumpling, lip curling back like you cracked your spine at her instead of just… near her. She actually flinches, like the sound hit her in the eardrum with a bat. and she’s halfway across the room, on the couch with a beer in hand, lazy, one leg over the armrest, but she tenses like she’s gonna fight the air.

“Stop doing that.”

You blink. “Doing what?”

She glares. “That.”

You pop your knuckles again just to be annoying.

Her whole jaw clenches. “I swear to god.”

You snort, grinning, and collapse onto the other end of the couch with your legs up in her lap. “You’re so dramatic. It’s not even that loud.”

“It’s disgusting.” She looks away from you, eyes back on the TV, but her fingers twitch around her bottle. “Sounds like your bones are trying to crawl out of your skin.”

“Jesus, Sevika,” you laugh. “What kind of horror movie bullshit —”

She cuts you off with a grunt, then shoots you another sideways glare. “It’s unnatural.”

You wiggle your toes at her. “You have metal in your body.”

“That’s different. That’s science.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So’s joint cavitation.”

She groans like you just pulled out a med school thesis. “Babe, no. You’re not gonna nerd your way out of this. I don’t wanna hear your skeleton popping out of place every five minutes.”

You stretch, arms overhead, and crack your shoulders just for fun. She visibly jolts. Her hand flies to the remote, slamming the volume up on whatever’s playing.

You giggle. “You hate this sooo much, huh?”

She doesn’t answer. Just grabs your ankle and shoves it off her lap.

“Hey!” you yell, letting your leg fall dramatically off the couch like she mortally wounded it. “What was that for?!”

“You cracked your toe bones at me,” she says darkly.

“They’re feet, Sev! They can’t help it!”

Sevika finally looks at you, slowly, with the deadpan exhaustion of someone who’s been dealing with this for too long. “You ever think maybe you’re too bendy? Like your body’s possessed or some shit?”

You laugh so hard your stomach hurts, “Oh my god, you’re insane,” you wheeze.

“And you’re gross.” She leans back, eyeing you with deep, theatrical judgment. “One day you’re gonna snap something wrong and then what.”

You crawl closer across the couch, climbing into her lap with no remorse. She gives a grunt of protest but doesn’t push you off.

You cup her cheeks, smushing them just a little and coo, “You still love me though.”

Sevika doesn’t answer.

You lean in, all syrupy-sweet “Even when I go pop pop pop!” You crack your neck again.

She shoves her hand over your mouth.

You squeal into her palm, laughing uncontrollably, and she mutters something like “i’m gonna put you in a damn body cast if you don’t quit.”

You whisper behind her hand: “But then i’d just crack from the inside.”

Sevika physically shudders.

[blaysreid]

PSYCH & CUDDLE - S.R

pairing = nerd!spencer + psychology!reader

summary = Reader struggles to study psychology, Spencer’s complex explanations only make her want to give up but his warm hugs, playful teasing, and gentle kisses make everything feel a little easier. Together, they navigate exams, flashcards, and late night cuddles, proving that love is the best kind of motivation!

A/N = personally imagined post prison reid 🤤 but any is lowkey so perfect. He's always gonna stay a lil nerd about his passions!

The textbook was open.

Spencer’s lecture had started.

And your brain had already checked out.

You were in his lap, the soft fleece throw blanket tucked around both of you like a shared secret. He had started off with good intentions, gently brushing his fingers through your hair while you highlighted chapter three of Psychological Theories in Practice. But then you had gone full gremlin.

“I don’t get this,” you muttered for the fifth time, slumping back against his chest dramatically. “Why does this even matter?”

Spencer didn’t even flinch. “Because understanding Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development is foundational if you want to”

“I’m gonna cry.” You tugged the blanket up over your face.

He chuckled quietly, arms wrapping tighter around your waist. “You said that ten minutes ago when we were on Piaget.”

“That’s because Piaget is worse” you whined. “All these old men with their stages and their schemas and their cognitive maps make me wanna walk straight into the id and disappear forever.”

“That’s Freud actually.”

“See?! There’s too many of them”

Spencer leaned down to nuzzle against your cheek, his voice still way too calm for your level of distress. “It’s not that bad. Erikson believed we go through eight stages in life, each centered around a key conflict. You’re in stage six right now, intimacy versus isolation. You’re developing deep emotional connections.”

“I’m literally developing a migraine” you said, head thunking back against his shoulder. “What stage is I want to kiss my boyfriend and go to sleep instead of study?”

Spencer tilted his head, pretending to ponder. “Hmm. That’s probably stage nine. Avoidance versus seduction”

You snorted and finally turned to look at him. “You just made that up.”

“I’m a doctor” he said, raising his brows. “I can do that.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You’re a PhD, not a medical doctor.”

“Still counts” he said smugly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, if you can tell me the difference between Erikson and Freud, I’ll reward you.”

“Is the reward food?”

“No.”

“Is it a nap?”

“No.”

You shifted in his lap until your noses brushed. “Is it… kisses?”

A faint smile crept over his face, soft and helpless. “Possibly.”

“Okay.” You sat up straighter, suddenly invested in the conversation. “So. Freud is all dreams and sex and unconscious desire, and Erikson is the one who thinks I need to develop trust or something, which is hilarious because I have trust issues.”

Spencer tried not to laugh, but it escaped anyway, quiet, breathy, low. “That’s actually right.”

“Wait, seriously?” You blinked at him.

He nodded, genuinely impressed. “Trust versus mistrust is Erikson’s first stage, typically formed in infancy. It lays the groundwork for how safe we feel in relationships.”

You stared at the ceiling. “Well, damn. Maybe he was onto something.”

“Maybe you’re smarter than you think.”

You flopped dramatically again, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. “Or maybe I just like when you talk all soft and nerdy while I pretend to listen.”

“You do pretend very well” he murmured, smiling against your temple.

“I really wasn’t paying attention to most of what you said” you admitted, cheek mushed against his shirt. “Your voice is too nice and your hands are too warm and I’m tired and I hate academia and I just want you to kiss me.”

Spencer leaned his head back on the couch, letting out a patient sigh. “You said you wanted to pass this class.”

“I do” you groaned. “But I also want you to spoon feed me the knowledge while I rest in peace.”

“That’s not how learning works.”

“That’s not how love works” you said dramatically, flopping onto your back which only tangled you deeper into his lap. The textbook slid to the floor with a dull thunk.

Spencer looked down at you, legs tangled with his, arms all askew, eyes blinking up at him with that defiant pout, and he melted.

“Okay” he said, giving in, “but if I kiss you, you’re not allowed to pretend you suddenly understand everything and then fall asleep.”

You blinked slowly. “That’s literally my entire plan.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but you tilted your head up and kissed him before he could.

Soft. Warm. Lazy. Like a sigh in the form of lips.

You felt his hand slide around the back of your neck, the other tracing slow, absentminded shapes against your spine. He always kissed you like he had spent years waiting to. Like time was irrelevant when you were in his arms. Like the world could wait.

When you finally pulled back, dazed and flushed, you whispered, “I understand nothing.”

Spencer smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I know.”

You curled into him like a cat, legs tangled again, head resting just beneath his chin. “Will you wake me up in twenty minutes so I can try again?”

“I’ll wake you in thirty” he said, already tucking the blanket higher.

“And you’ll quiz me after?”

“Mmhmm.”

You yawned. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I still hate Erikson.”

He laughed quietly into your hair. “That makes two of us.”

And with your textbook on the floor, your arms wrapped around him, and his hand steady on your back, you finally let yourself drift into sleep, intimacy versus isolation be damned.

An hour later you woke up to the sound of a highlighter cap being clicked. Repeatedly.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Annoyingly rhythmic. Intentionally loud.

You cracked one eye open. Spencer was sitting next to you now, legs folded beneath him on the couch, your psychology textbook back in his lap. His hair was a little messier, his cardigan sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the world’s most smug expression was plastered on his face.

“Sleep well?” he asked without looking up.

“No,” you grumbled, burying your face into a pillow. “My dreams were haunted by Erikson and his weird developmental hang-ups.”

“Good” he said cheerfully, finally glancing at you. “Because now we’re going to revisit them. I made flashcards.”

You sat up slowly. “You what?”

Spencer held up a small, perfectly stacked pile of handwritten index cards. Color-coded. Labeled. Numbered.

“You really are the villain of my academic career” you said.

“Thank you” he replied, handing you the first card. “Now. Stage one.”

You stared blankly at the card.

He raised an eyebrow. “If you say ‘migraine versus murder’ again, I will cancel all future kisses.”

Your jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

He shrugged. “Try me.”

You flopped back dramatically again, groaning into the pillow. “I changed my mind. I want Freud back. At least he was interestingly deranged.”

Spencer chuckled and leaned over you, voice softer now. “Come on. You can do this. Just twenty minutes. I even made a reward system.”

You sat up slowly, suspicious. “Reward system?”

“For every two stages you get right, you get a kiss. Five right and I’ll make you dinner.”

You blinked. “Okay that’s kind of hot.”

“I know” he said without shame. “Now stop stalling. Stage one. Erikson. Go.”

You squinted at the card. “Trust versus mistrust. Infancy. Developing secure attachment.”

Spencer smiled. “Perfect. See? You remember.”

“No I don’t. I’m just really motivated by pasta and affection.”

“That still counts as learning” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “One down.”

You melted slightly, only to get immediately bombarded by card two.

“Stage two?”

“Autonomy versus…” You paused. “Shame? Doubt?”

“Correct” he said, eyes lighting up. “Early childhood. Independence development.”

“Wow. Okay. Give me another kiss. Stat.”

He obliged. Slowly, lazily, like you were something delicate he liked to take his time with.

“This is actually a really good study method” you mumbled against his lips.

“I know” he said again, far too pleased with himself.

The next ten minutes passed like that. Flashes of theory, snorts of laughter, wrong answers paired with exaggerated groans. Every right one got you another kiss, sometimes a forehead press, once even a tiny, dramatic slow clap from Spencer that made you threaten to throw the flashcards in the sink.

Eventually, you slumped against him again, defeated but proud. “Okay. So Erikson’s not the devil. Just slightly obsessed with identity crises.”

“And Freud?”

“Still a freak.”

Spencer nodded in approval. “I think you’re ready for the quiz tomorrow.”

You groaned and dropped your head into his lap again. “I’m not even halfway done with the readings. College is fake. Psychology is fake. Reality is fake.”

“Mmhm” he murmured, brushing his fingers through your hair again. “And yet, you remembered every stage.”

“Because of the kisses. If I fail, I’m blaming you for being too pretty.”

“If you fail, I’ll re-enroll and take the class with you.”

You peeked up. “You would?”

“In a heartbeat.”

You grinned. “God, you’re such a nerd.”

“And you love it.”

Unfortunately, you did.

And fortunately, you also had the world’s smartest, most patient, slightly annoying tutor-boyfriend in your corner. With flashcards.

tag list = @summerobertsvariant

[imnotjustreadingg]

is this real?

a/n: this is the second part of “Bucky this, Bucky that”. as always fully credits to @opheliabbarnes for the inspiration.

Bucky was heading to the campus library when he heard her voice sharp, familiar, venom-laced. “Wow. Didn’t expect you to still be walking upright, Barnes.” He froze.

Sharon Carter.

Just hearing her voice made his stomach clench, a sick wave of memory crashing over him. The way she used him, mocked him, laughed with her friends after he’d left her room, thinking for just a second it meant something. He turned slowly, keeping his voice calm. “What do you want?” She tilted her head, blonde curls bouncing, fake smile painted perfectly on. “Just wanted to say congratulations,” she said sweetly. “Heard you’re dating up these days.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “She’s not like you.”

Sharon laughed. “Sure, sure. I mean, hey, good for you. Didn’t think the queen of the social scene had a thing for floppy-haired losers with food stains on their notes. But I guess everyone’s got a kink, right?” He didn’t say anything. Just stared at her, expression unreadable. She took a step closer, voice dropping. “Just hope you’re not getting too comfortable, Barnes. Girls like her?” Her eyes flicked over him with calculated cruelty. “They like the fantasy. You’re probably just a rebellion. Something she’ll get over once she remembers what kind of guy actually fits on her arm.” Bucky felt the words hit like punches. She knew what she was doing. The worst part was that deep down, it echoed what he’d feared all along.

What if he was just a phase to YN?

What if she’d wake up one day and realize he wasn’t enough?

What if Sharon was right?

But before he could fall deeper into the spiral. “You don’t get to talk about her. Sharon’s brows raised mockingly. “Touchy.”

“You used me. Lied to me. Humiliated me. And I still don’t hate you the way I hate myself for ever believing you were different.” Something flickered in her expression, not regret, not guilt. Just surprise at his sudden spine. Bucky continued, voice raw but grounded. “But YN? She’s the only person who ever made me feel like I wasn’t disgusting. She holds my hand in public. Kisses me like I’m hers. Laughs at my dumb facts and touches me like I’m worth something. So don’t talk about her like she’s not real.” Sharon blinked, momentarily thrown off. He stepped past her, shoulders tense, and didn’t look back.

Later that night, you found him sitting on your couch, a quiet storm behind his eyes. You sat beside him, touching his arm gently “Hey. What happened?” He didn’t answer at first. “Why me?” he whispered. You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“You could have anyone. Someone… polished. Pretty. A guy who looks like he belongs beside you. Not someone with stretch marks and a stomach and-”

“Stop,” you said gently but firmly, climbing into his lap and taking his face in your hands.

“You are everything I want, Bucky. Not a placeholder. Not a rebellion. Not a project.”

He looked away, blinking fast. “Someone said stuff today. Stuff I’ve been thinking since we got together. That maybe I’m just… a novelty.”

You pulled his glasses off, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re not a novelty. You’re the realest, warmest, smartest, kindest person I’ve ever known. You think I’m some perfect popular girl? I was miserable before you. I didn’t even know what love felt like until you.” Bucky let out a shaky breath. You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his lips slowly, like stitching him back together. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “You don’t have to keep bracing for the fall. I’m here. With you. Always.”

He wrapped his arms around you, tight. Like he was afraid to let go but maybe, just maybe, starting to believe he wouldn’t have to. He still couldn’t believe it.

Bucky sat now on the edge of your bed, wearing nothing but his glasses and a dazed smile. His thighs spread wide, boxers tented with obvious want, dark curls falling into his flushed face. You were kneeling between his legs, your hands on his thick thighs, trailing teasing fingers over skin that was warm and soft and solid. “You okay, Buck?” you teased, your voice honey-sweet and low. He swallowed, eyes wide behind his fogged-up glasses. “I just… I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up in my dorm with my hand down my pants.” You giggled. “You’re not dreaming.”

You kissed the inside of his thigh, feeling him shiver beneath you. His cock jumped in his boxers, a dark spot already spreading at the tip. You looked up at him, lips barely brushing his skin. “I invited you for coffee, Bucky. We had sex in a bathroom. And now I’m about to blow your mind again. You still think this is a dream?” His breath hitched. “Kind of.”

You pulled down his boxers slowly, watching his cock spring free thick, heavy, flushed dark pink at the tip. His hips jerked a little when you wrapped a hand around the base, stroking gently. “I like that you’re big,” you whispered, biting your lip as your eyes dragged up his body. “And soft. I love that you’re the smartest guy I know. You’re sexy, Bucky. I’ve wanted you since the first time you corrected our professor under his breath.” He moaned, a low rumble in his chest, when you took him in your mouth. His hand instantly went to your hair, trying not to pull, but losing that fight fast.

“Fuck- sweetheart, you’re… you’re too good at that,” he panted, biting down on his fist as your mouth worked him over. He was thick, and long, stretching your lips wide, and you loved how sensitive he was. Every whimper, every soft praise that slipped from his mouth made you wetter. He tugged you up suddenly, breathing hard. “I wanna make you feel good too,” he said, his voice rough.

You let him guide you onto the bed, onto your back, panties already soaked through. He kissed down your thighs like a man starved, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he buried his face between them. His stubble scratched your skin, but his tongue was filthy, lapping and sucking until your legs trembled around his thick neck.

“God, Bucky-” you cried out, gripping the sheets, arching your back. He groaned into you, like your taste was addictive, like he needed it. And when he pulled away, you saw his mouth wet, lips pink and swollen, and his pupils blown wide. “Come here,” you whispered, pulling him up. He hovered over you, pressing his thick, warm body to yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as he pushed into you slowly carefully.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he moaned against your neck. “You sure I’m not hurting you? You rolled your hips up, moaning, “You’re perfect.” Bucky’s thrusts were slow at first, controlled but you saw the way his jaw clenched, how sweat formed on his brow as he held himself back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and whispered, “Don’t hold back.” He didn’t. The bed creaked beneath you as he picked up the pace, hips snapping harder, deeper. Your moans filled the flat  along with his sweet, desperate praises.

“So beautiful, fuck-can’t believe you want me-feel so good, sweetheart-I love you, I love you-”

You came first, loud and shaking beneath him, dragging him over the edge. He spilled into you with a deep groan, burying his face in your neck as his whole body trembled.

After, he didn’t move for a long moment just held you close, breathing hard. “I’m never waking up from this, am I?” You smiled into his messy hair, heart full. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” You looked at him in the eyes. “I love you too, Bucky.”

The next morning, you padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but Bucky’s wrinkled T-shirt. Oversized, smelling like him, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun, lips swollen from hours of kissing, and your legs still shook a little from how many times he’d made you come last night. You should’ve been sore. Exhausted. But the second Bucky saw you? He dropped his coffee mug mid-pour, mouth parted in stunned silence. “…Jesus fucking Christ.” You glanced over your shoulder. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Just stalked over like a man possessed, cornering you at the kitchen counter, his thick chest brushing your back.

His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, his shirt, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs, moving upward with intent.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he rasped against your neck. “That’s not even fair.” You smirked. “You left it on the floor. I figured it’s mine now.”

“I’ll give you every shirt I own if you let me eat you right here.” Your breath caught, heart skipping as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. “On the counter,” he murmured. “Now.”

You hopped up without hesitation, legs spreading naturally as he kneeled between them, his broad shoulders pushing them farther apart. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee before moving up, up, up, until his mouth was right where you wanted him.

“You know what it does to me,” he groaned, “seeing you like this… all soft and messy in my shirt, legs open like I haven’t ruined you enough already.” You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging gently as he licked a slow stripe up your slit. You gasped, back arching slightly off the cold counter.

He dove in like a man starved, his tongue relentless and filthy licking, sucking, devouring you like your taste was everything.

One of his hands held your thigh in place, the other moving to press on your lower belly, keeping you still. The pressure, the control, had you panting.

“Fuck, Bucky-”

“I’ll never get enough of this,” he murmured between licks, glasses fogging slightly as he looked up at you. “You’re soaked. You always this wet for me, baby?” You couldn’t even answer. Your hips rolled instinctively, grinding into his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “shaking already. You gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Right here on the counter like a good girl?”

You came hard. Thighs clamping around his head, a loud cry torn from your throat. He groaned against your cunt, not stopping until your whole body went limp and trembling in his hands. When he finally pulled away, his mouth and chin were glistening, his lips red and wet, pupils blown wide behind his crooked glasses. He grinned, standing between your legs, spreading kisses from your belly to your collarbone. “That’s breakfast sorted,” he said smugly.

The smell of coffee filled the apartment. Y/N was perched cross-legged at the little kitchen table in her oversized sleep shirt, a mug in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her. Bucky stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a quiet concentration that meant his mind was miles away. She watched him, chin in her hand, waiting. She knew that look. He was thinking about something deep enough to be simmering behind his eyes, just below the surface. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked gently. Bucky didn’t turn around right away. He finished flipping the pancake, then reached for the plate, carefully stacking it beside the eggs. After a moment, he brought it over, setting it down between them, and sat across from her. He didn’t eat yet. Just stared at the plate. Then, finally, he said.

“I used to think maybe Sharon was right.” Y/N blinked, lowering her mug slowly. “I mean, back then,” Bucky continued. “I really believed I was… something you settled for. The soft guy. The background guy. I wasn’t strong or cool or ripped like everyone else. I just… had a nice smile and helped people with homework.” Y/N reached for his hand under the table. He let her take it. “When Sharon hooked up with me, it felt like maybe I was finally enough for someone like her,” he said. “Even if it didn’t make sense. Even if I felt like I was holding my breath the whole time.” He paused. Swallowed hard. “And when she told me it was a joke, that she did it for a bet. I didn’t even get mad at her. I got mad at me. For believing I deserved someone. For thinking I wasn’t the joke.” 

“Bucky…” Y/N whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I spent so much time thinking love wasn’t for people like me. That I had to just be grateful for whatever scraps I got. Even if they hurt.” There was silence for a moment. The kind that filled the kitchen like warm sunlight through the blinds. Then Y/N spoke, voice steady and sure. “You don’t ever have to feel like that again.” His eyes met hers open, vulnerable, but steadier than before. “I know that now,” he said quietly. “Because of you.” He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “You scare the shit out of people, you know that?” She snorted. “Good. They should be scared.” “You would’ve destroyed her,” he said, not teasing. Just pure truth. “I still might,” Y/N said with a shrug. “Just say the word.” He laughed. That soft, real one that started in his chest and tugged up the corners of his eyes. “But seriously, Buck,” she said, growing quiet again. “You’re not a consolation prize. You never were. You’re thoughtful and kind and stubborn and smart and gentle in ways that most people aren’t brave enough to be. That’s what makes you different.” He looked down at their hands. At the way her fingers were laced through his, like she didn’t plan to let go not even if the world tried to pull them apart. “I don’t want to be scared of love anymore,” he said softly. “Then don’t be,” Y/N whispered. “We’re already in it.” He looked at her, eyes glassy but not sad. Just full. He reached for a fork finally, took a bite of egg, and smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start with breakfast.”

taglist -> @onlyjunisworld @moonlitmorgan @thewitchhofoz @peanutbutt3rcup @overwintering-soldier @thelastbluecookie @chronicallybubbly @staley83 @mistalli @morphoportis @iyskgd @imjusthere1161 @herejustforbuckybarnes @punkprincesskingdom @thursdaylen @asfkofie @pearldouglas

if you wanna be added, reply here

[cosmickid-inmotion]

Trans Joy Writing/Art Event

Header by the amaaaaazing @perotovar

Hello everyone!

Me, @perotovar @sp00kymulderr and @qveerthe0ry are so excited to announce our Trans Joy event! While this is geared more towards the Pedro Pascal Fandom, this event is open to everyone! 

(Plz rb for a wider reach)

We’ve heard from people that they have been curious about writing trangender representation, but are unsure how to start or are scared of doing it wrong, or even being offensive or incorrect. We understand it can be intimidating at first, so we created this event to help make it accessible to everyone. At the end of the info and rules, you’ll find links to terms, information on transitioning and articles on queer theory as well as links to multi-cultural trans perspectives.

We will also be offering judgement free good faith sensitivity reads so you can get your piece checked out if you are nervous

Steps

Look through the articles, learn if you are unsure. 

Play around with concepts, genders, and prompts

Ask questions to me or any of those running the event

Write or draw!

If you would like a sensitivity read, you can either DM one of us you know best, or you can DM me and I’ll send it to the others and we can see who is available

Post it on tumblr! Make  sure to tag us and link the event so others can see it! We will be reblogging pieces. (Note: Not every piece will be reblogged by everyone. We all are busy, so we can’t read everything. However, if no one has read yours feel free to reach out. It’s never intentional, and we aren’t trying to exclude anyone)

EVENT RUNS THROUGH AUGUST! If you need an extension, reach out.

Rule

No dark or incest. We aren’t hating, we promise. This is just not the event for it this time around.

Due to issues around the fandom, you may have one of us blocked, or one of us may have you blocked. We will not be discriminating, unless there is an extreme reason. If one of us are blocked by you or vice versa, interact as normal with the other admins! Unless extenuating circumstances arise, we will just go on as normal. No biggie.

General rules about no minors, no minor characters in sexual situations. We are allowing trans kids, as there is nothing sexual about trans children. Discussion around hormones, binding, etc are normal and fine, we just ask not to get too detailed if you have a minor transitioning. Things like surgery or such just avoid. They can be discussed with adults. If you need clarification, let us know!

One character must be trans, but it doesn’t matter who. Joel can be trans. OC can be trans. Reader can be trans. Steve can be trans. 

MTF, FTM, non binary, demi girl/boy, bigender, any variety of genders are allowed. We’ll have some basic trans identities listed but you don’t have to stick to it!

You can play with a canon character. It’s okay for Joel to be a trans man. Joel can be non binary. But Joel can also come out as a trans woman, if you want. We’re not going to police you.

Again, Pedro fandom is the focus here but all fandoms welcome <3

Prompts

We encourage everyone to write how they are comfortable. We love stories that are just a normal story with a trans character and it’s no big deal. But we do have some prompts that are specific trans based. Again, you don’t have to follow any of these! This is just to help give ideas.

First time having sex with genitalia (I.e, Javi G. likes women, has never had sex with a dick before, first time with a transgirl)

First time having sex after bottom surgery

Helping someone recover from surgery

Coming out

Trans child coming out (I.e Ellie is non binary)

Trans child transitioning (info below on what minors transitioning actually looks like)

“I don’t owe you androgyny/masculinity/femininity” Someone demanding they be called what they are even if they don’t “present” how someone thinks they should.

Choosing a new name

Helping give shots

Songs

Here are some songs explicitly about a trans person to inspire you!

Big Butt Billy- Willi Carisle (non binary masc)

Mary, Queen of Arkansas- Bruce Springsteen (trans fem)

Candy Says - Velvet Underground

 King for a day - Green Day 

Born a girl - manic street preachers 

Annabel - Goldfrapp

Lola- The Kinks

Delicate, Petite, and other things I’ll never be- Against Me!

Silloettes- Avicci

Information

Trans MTF (male-to-female): A transgender person who was assigned male at birth but identifies and lives as a woman.

Trans FTM (female-to-male): A transgender person who was assigned female at birth but identifies and lives as a man.

Nonbinary: A person whose gender identity doesn’t fit strictly into the categories of male or female.

Bigender: Someone who identifies with two genders, either at the same time or shifting between them.

Genderqueer: An umbrella term for people whose gender identity is not exclusively male or female and may reject traditional gender norms.

Agender: A person who does not identify with any gender or feels a lack of gender entirely.

Genderfluid: Someone whose gender identity shifts over time or in different contexts.

Demiboy: A person who partially identifies as a boy/man but not fully or exclusively.

Demigirl: A person who partially identifies as a girl/woman but not fully or exclusively

Guide to being a trans ally

https://lgbt.foundation/help/a-guide-to-being-a-trans-ally/

Multi-culteral perspective

Trans children/ Youth facts and myths

No children are getting surgeries

Kindergarteners are not on puberty blocks

Puberty blockers are NOT the same as hormones treatments

Children are not being forced or groomed into being trans

You have a higher regret rate of knee surgery than you do regretting gender affirming surgery

People who detransition are real and valid and shouldn’t be silenced, but they are the minority. 

Detransitoning rates vary but generally under 10%, and those who detransition, by and large, do it not because they aren’t trans but because of the stigma they face. Most transition again later.

Check out the MTF and FTM reddits!

Feel free to ask us about transitioning. Everyone's transition choices are different. Some want surgery and hormones, some just want a haircut. It’s all very personal, as the experience can be!

With this event, and with the threat of defunding by Donald Trump and his administrations policies, we are encouraging, if you are able, to donate to The Trevor Project. Money goes to education and funding their LGBT suicide hotline.

If you are based in the UK you will be aware of the Supreme Court recently ruling against trans women being legally recognised as women, and the increase of TERF rhetoric in the mainstream media. if you are UK based please consider donating to https://transactual.org.uk/ or https://mermaidsuk.org.uk/

We look forward to everyone's participation in the event! Here are some trans fics that might help you get an idea how to write!

Lover Boy by @sp00kymulderr (tranamasc reader)

About a Girl by @cosmickid-inmotion (transfem reader with info on transitioning)

Never Say Never by @djarinmuse (non binary reader)

Non Binary!Frankie @cosmickid-inmotion

Anticipation by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

any other recs are welcome!

[charliegyrth]

Fattening the Stoner

He doesn't know what he's eating...

Hi, everyone! Charlie here! For my first story request of the month, I'm responding to an idea from @kingston2002. Check out his page if you haven't (though you probably have). He's making great progress.

***

July

It’s impossible to hate you. You’re literally the nicest person I’ve ever met. Always friendly. Always asking me about my day.

The problem, though, is that you get high every night. I like to smoke every once in a while, but I don’t have a problem like you do. And when I do get high, I’m at least aware of my surroundings. With you, it’s like you’re in another world. Most days, I come home from work to find you sprawled on the couch laughing at cartoons. You usually don’t even notice when I walk through the door.

I stopped bringing dates home. I’m constantly cleaning up after you. And I keep the fridge empty because I know you’ll eat all my leftovers without even realizing.

I can’t talk to you about it when you’re stoned. And when you’re sober, I always look into your smiling, handsome face and lose my nerve. The truth is, you’re the best roommate I ever had, aside from this one thing.

At the beginning of summer, I come home to find you in your usual position on the couch. You’re shirtless (as always) and your giggling fills the apartment. An old Scooby Doo episode is playing on TV.

I had a long day, so I’m more annoyed than usual. My boss shouted at me for something I didn’t do, and I had to work through lunch. I’m tired. Hangry. I just want someone to talk to, but you’re obviously not able to listen to me vent.

I flop onto the couch next to you and notice the empty Tupperware on the coffee table.

“Jesus, man. Was that my lasagna?” Just seeing the empty containers makes my stomach rumble.

“Dude,” you say, pointing toward the TV. “The shark monster is going to get them this time.”

God damn Scooby Doo. And the funniest part is, this episode doesn’t even have a shark monster. It’s about pirate ghosts.

Even though I know you’re not going to understand me, I finally tell you how I feel. I let it all out, focusing most of my anger on the stolen food because I’m so damn hungry.

You look at me, and for a second, I think you’re going to apologize. Instead, you burp. Then you laugh about it.

I pull out my phone and order from Dr. Wok’s Chinese Restaurant. I’m so hungry that I get a lot more than I can possibly eat. Then I sit there in angry silence as I wait for the delivery guy. I grab the remote and change it to some documentary. (I’m in the mood for anything except cartoons.) You don’t even notice.

Finally, the food comes. The delivery guy is a muscly redhead. Pretty handsome, actually. I flirt a little, and he flirts back…

Until he notices your shirtless body on the couch. That’s the other annoying thing about you. Despite all your late-night munchies, you’re so much better looking than me. I’m not ugly or anything. Just average. A little gawky. But you’re tanned and muscled. You have this relaxed surfer vibe that I just can’t compete with.

I give the guy his tip. (It would’ve been more if I hadn’t caught him ogling you.) Then I bring my bags of food back to the coffee table.

“Dude!” you say. “That smells amazing.”

“You already ate,” I mutter.

I usually eat in the dining room, but I think part of me wants you to smell my food. I know Chinese is your favorite. I guess I’m being petty, but whatever. You won’t remember in the morning.

I open the Beijing beef (my favorite) and eat directly from the box. It takes me two bites to notice that you’re full-on staring. Drooling, too. “Nope,” I say. “All mine.”

“Okay,” you mutter.

You try to watch the documentary, but you’re not following it. (Maybe I subconsciously chose something boring just to punish you. I’m not really into it, either.)

A few minutes later, you grab a box of orange chicken and start eating with your hands. I can tell by your expression that you love the taste. I can also tell that you don’t even realize that you took my food again. You’re acting on instinct. You smell the savory sweetness and you instinctively eat.

I’m about to pull the food away and lecture you, but a thought crosses my mind. I’m not hangry anymore, so I don’t feel that annoyed. I’m more… curious, I guess. I want to see how fast it’ll take you to finish the whole take-out box.

Less than five minutes, it turns out. You’re in the zone. Globs of orange sauce coat your chin. Little speckles of food land on your abs. It’s honestly intriguing, and I’m not even mad that your saucy fingers are staining the couch again.

You let the empty box fall to your side and lean against the cushions, stuffed and satisfied. Your hands rub your stomach. It’s still flat, but your abs look less pronounced.

This is your second dinner of the night, plus whatever snacks you had when you first started smoking. There’s no way you’ll want to eat anything else.

But again, I’m curious. I hand you my half-finished box of Beijing beef. You take it.

I watch to see if you’ll start eating again. Probably not. You look beyond full.

For a long time, you just hold the food and stare glossy-eyed at the TV. Then, without thinking, you grab a handful of beef and pop it into your mouth. You’re eating just as fast as before, but your expression isn’t as blissful. You’re not really enjoying the taste anymore. I don’t think your brain is even registering it. You’re so deep into autopilot, driven by the smells and the easy access, that you shovel everything in. Once again, you let the empty box fall to your side and sink even further into the couch.

I decide to keep going. I take the next box (chow mein) and drench it with teriyaki sauce. Then I place it in your hands and watch you eat.

You start to slow, and I think your brain is finally registering the fullness, so I switch the TV back to Scooby Doo. That distracts you enough to finish the noodles.

And the kung pao chicken.

And the rice.

In thirty weird, wonderful minutes, all my food has disappeared into your straining stomach. You’re covered in sauce. You’re too exhausted to keep your eyes open. And your flat stomach isn’t so flat anymore. It’s painfully round. You hold it with both your hands and let out a deep, raggedy burp.

Then you pass out.

While you snore (I’ve never heard you snore before), I clean up your mess and wipe you down with a wet cloth.

In the morning, I see you in the exact same position as I get ready for work. Your eyes flutter open when you hear me.

“Dude,” you say. “I slept on the couch again.”

As if that isn’t obvious.

“Do you remember what you did last night?”

“Naw, man. I don’t even remember when you got home.”

Interesting…

***

August

Scooby and Shaggy are dressed up like carnival barkers, trying to confuse a frog mutant. God, this cartoon is terrible.

You’re half-asleep on the couch, your fingers rubbing circles around your softened belly.

It’s been six weeks since I started giving you extra food every night, and you’ve gotten chunky. Your pecs have poked out into moobs, and your abs are covered in a mound of hairy fat. Your face is still as handsome as ever, but I can already see the early signs of a second chin.

And the best part is, you still don’t notice how much you’re changing. It’s incredible.

You laugh at the cartoon.

“Hey? Having fun?” (It’s my way of checking if you’re still high. You definitely are.)

“A frog monster, man!” you say. Then you laugh.

Perfect. Once again, you won’t notice the food delivery.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings. I jump up to answer.

The handsome redhead is waiting for me. Teddy. We’re on a first-name basis now.

He smiles flirtatiously as he hands me my huge order. I can never tell if he’s into me or if he’s just grateful for the tips.

“Thanks.” I’m about to close the door when he stops me.

“Your, um, boyfriend is a big eater, huh?” He glances over at you.

I open my mouth to correct him (we’re not boyfriends) when he interrupts me.

“The guy I’m dating has packed on 50 pounds since we first got together. It helps that I can bring home as much Chinese food as I can carry.” He gives me a conspiratorial wink. “Good luck, man!”

He turns to leave.

So I’d been misinterpreting him this whole time. He wasn’t flirting with me at all. He just sees something in me that he sees in himself. He’s an encourager.

I drop the bags on the counter and have a mini panic attack. I don’t hyperventilate or anything, but my breath catches in my throat.

Am I really that obvious?

To the delivery guy, I guess.

But the fact that he knows what I’m doing feels like a punch to the gut. I’m not making you fatter because we’re in a relationship, or because we’re both into it. No. I’m doing it as petty revenge. I’m teaching you a lesson.

But…

But what lesson do you need to learn? You’re a good person. You don’t deserve this.

I grab the food bags and drop them all in the trash. I’m done.

You call my name from the living room. I rush in and join you on the couch.

“Who was at the door?” you ask, a surprising moment of clarity.

“Telemarketer,” I lie.

“Uh huh,” you say, as if my answer made any sense.

Then you go back to watching your cartoon. You’re not eating, but you seem just as happy. Sure, your stomach gurgles a little, but you still have that same blissful smile on your handsome face. Your body isn't missing all the extra calories. I have no doubt that you’ll lose all this extra weight in no time at all.

The next morning, I wake up early to go for a run. You’re not in the living room anymore, but the coffee table is covered in empty Chinese food boxes. Last night, you fished them all out of the trash. Ate every bite.

***

September

I get home from work. It was a good day. I have a new boss now, and he’s a lot easier to deal with.

I’m surprised that you’re not in the living room. I miss seeing you there. I probably shouldn’t order food tonight.

And I guess that’s for the best. I spent way too much last month. Despite my reservations (and guilt), I still pack you with food every night. I love watching you eat. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the highlight of my day.

With the house empty, I don’t know what to do with myself. I turn on TV, and even though I can choose anything I want, I automatically turn on a cartoon. It makes me think of you.

About an hour later, you stroll in, your arms filled with shopping bags. “Hey, man. Just got new clothes!”

It’s about time. None of your old shirts are able to cover your hanging belly, and your pants all look so uncomfortably tight around your wide thighs.

We’ve still never talked about your weight gain, but I guess you can’t deny it anymore.

You excitedly jump onto the couch, your belly flopping, and you show me your new outfits. “Had to go to the Goodwill. Now that I’m bigger, I spend way too much money on necessities.” (By “necessities,” you mean “weed.” It takes a lot more to get you high now.)

As you pull out a selection of nice, XXL shirts, I try to think of what to say. This is your first time mentioning that you’ve gotten bigger. I’ve been too afraid to bring it up, so now’s my chance to finally come clean. You don’t sound upset about it, though.

You hold a gray tank top in front of your body. You would’ve been swimming in the billowing fabric a few months ago, but now it’ll fit your thick gut perfectly. “You like it?”

“Um, so you’ve… outgrown your clothes,” I say awkwardly.

“Duh!” you say as your slap your gut. “What did you think would happen with you bringing home all that food every night?”

All the blood drains from my face. “You knew?”

“Weed doesn’t give you amnesia, idiot,” you say. “I remember everything. And now that we’re finally talking about it, I just gotta say… Thanks, man. You’re seriously the most generous guy in the world.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re fat.”

You pull up your shirt (also new) and grab your exposed belly. It’s like you’re proud of it. “I’m not just fat, man. I mean, look at this thing. It’s so floppy.”

“And you like it?”

You scrunch up your eyebrows. That’s your thinking face. “Honestly? I’m happy with whatever. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Oh.”

“I’m all about enjoying life, you know? And when I’m baked, there’s nothing more fun than stuffing myself and playing with all of this.” You dig your fingers into your belly fat. A big smile stretches across your round face. “It’s like a stress ball, man. Touch it!”

I gulp. “I’m not gonna…”

You grab my wrist and pull my closer. I can’t help but press my palm into your belly. You watch, waiting for me to do something. I feel so awkward as I squeeze into your flab. I’ve never felt you before. You’re even softer than you look.

I hate that I like this so much. I pull my hand away.

You give me a curious look. “I thought you’d be into it.”

“Into what?”

You straighten up, letting your shirt fall into place. “Dude, aren’t you trying to make me fat?”

“No,” I say. You know I’m lying.

“Then why did you do this to me?” You scoot closer, your belly bunching into rolls. “And why haven’t you gone out on a date in months? And why do you always look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

You grab my chin and force me to meet your eyes. You wait for me to say something.

I don’t. I can’t. No words will come out of my mouth.

And when you’ve waited long enough, you kiss me.

I didn’t realize how long I’ve wanted this until your lips are on mine. I give in completely. My hands squeeze into your side rolls. You climb on top of me, forcing me to feel your weight pressing down. You radiate warmth.

And when you pull away, your belly still pressing into me, you say, “Why don’t we try something different tonight?”

“Wh-what?” I worry that you’re taking things too fast. I don’t think I’m ready for anything more intimate than a kiss.

“I’m not gonna smoke tonight,” you say. “I want to be completely sober when you stuff me. What do you think?”

I instantly grab my phone to order the biggest meal of your life.

***

July

I answer the door. The redhaired delivery guy gives me a huge smile. “Looks like you’re finally starting to catch up to your boyfriend.”

As I take all our bags, he uses the opportunity to poke me in my chubby middle. I’ve gained about 30 pounds this summer, all unintentionally. I kind of like it, though. And I definitely like eating alongside you. It’s more fun than just watching and giving you belly rubs. Perhaps I’ll keep going.

“Hi, Teddy!” you call from the couch.

The delivery guy waves at you. “Nice progress, man!”

You drum against your belly. It’s my favorite sound. “Thanks.”

Before Teddy leaves, he leans close and whispers, “I gave you extra egg rolls.” He emphasizes the word “you.” He wants me to have those just for myself.

“Thanks. See ya at Bear Night!” I say as I close the door.

I use the app to increase his tip by another $20. Love that guy. (And with my latest promotion, money is no object.) Then I bring all the bags to the living room, placing them on the coffee table right in front of you.

You breathe out a huge puff of smoke and hand me the bong. Two more hits and I’ll be gone. At your size, it takes you three times as much. That’s the one downside of your 150 extra pounds.

“What do you wanna watch?” you ask. You’re joking, of course. We both know you’re gonna put on cartoons again. (Family Guy this time.)

I lean my head against your soft shoulder and play with your moobs again. It’s part of our nightly ritual, my way of getting you ready for the feast.

“Fuck,” you mutter as I increase the friction.

Then, with your mouth open and your body rocking and jiggling in excitement, I use my free hand to grab the first container of sweet and sour pork. I eat a few bites myself. Then I start feeding you.

You're very stoned, but you know exactly what I'm doing.

The End

Thanks for reading! You can find my latest Tumblr stories here, and my ebooks here.

[lomlando]

too little too late || LN4

summary: maybe lando was right about you.

content warnings: mild language, a little angst?

word count: 1.5 k

pairing: lando norris x fem!driver!reader x carlos sainz

SERIES: Messy || may be confusing if read as a standalone one-shot!

Within a millisecond, you had already regretted your decision. God, is he right? You couldn’t help but think to yourself, because at the very moment, it seemed like he really did hit the nail right on the head with that statement. 

Did you ever think about the consequences of your own actions? 

You sure hadn’t on Thursday when you deadlegged him. 

You sure hadn’t earlier when you agreed to down a whole bottle of tequila.

But most of all-You sure hadn’t when you fell for him, even just a little bit, while playing 20 questions. 

That last part was something your brain and your heart had been struggling to just admit. It was too increasingly clear right now for either to ignore it, though. You two were standing close, too close for comfort. Both of your bodies were touching and it was sending electric shocks straight back to your heart-you could only hope Lando couldn’t notice. And then his eyes-they were piercing straight through you. You could look closely at every detail of his face-his freckles, the two small scars on his nose, his little bit of stubble on his chin. If you didn’t know any better, you would bet big money that the world was currently on a complete and total pause. 

God, he was right. 

Now you found yourself in between a rock and a hard place. You didn’t want to know why he hated you at all. Whatever came out of his mouth would just be a statement for you to replay over and over again in your mind. You know you would become obsessive over fixing whatever character flaw it was. Or maybe that’s why a little sliver of your being did want to know why he hated you. If you only knew the reason, maybe you could apologize, tell him you were working on yourself, something, anything to fix whatever this was between you two. 

Even though you know the truth, this hatred was too far gone. This epiphany was just too little too late. You still wanted to believe that a friendship, at the very least, could be somehow patched back together. But before you could think more about the overarching issue…

…how in the hell were you going to back track from this moment. 

Pretend to be sleep walking? No, too obvious that you clearly weren’t. Blame the sunburn for some type of delirium and that you don’t even know where you are right now? Absolutely not, is that even possible? Fake pass out? Not the worst idea, sadly. 

“You know what, forget it.” You say as you throw your arms up in some overly dramatic way as you quickly move past him. You meant to keep the statement in your racing mind rather than to actually say it outloud, but you guess it worked in the situation. After all, Lando couldn’t answer you if you were already away from the crime scene. 

“Wait,” Lando said as he reached for your arm. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around. He was moving closer now, quickly closing the gap that you had just worked so hard to create between you too. 

Yeah, it was a silly thought that he would let you just slide out of the conversation after attacking him. You braced your mind for the impact that was coming, for all of the personal attacks it was about to have to withstand, hopefully without so much as cracking. 

Lando opened his mouth to start speaking. You winced, expecting the worst. To your surprise though, another voice seemed to come out of his mouth. 

“Everything okay up here?” You both turned towards the voice. Carlos stood steps away.  He was shirtless, a pair of tattered pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes looking still full of sleep. “I heard yelling.” 

“Oh, that, Lando just scared me. Didn’t think anyone was awake,” You say, adding in a fake laugh at the end. Carlos just stood there. You swear you could actually see the gears turning in his head. A oh! you scared me scream and a tell me why you hate me scream were very different as far as even you were concerned, but you just had to wish that Carlos would leave it alone. And he did. Carlos just nodded, accepting the answer, wiping his eyes in the process. 

“Okay, I’m going back to bed then.” 

“Me too,” You say, quickly scurrying next to Carlos. 

Carlos and you walked back down to the hallway together. When you passed the first bedroom and Carlos didn’t dip into it, you figured that he must have been one of the two men in the bedroom that you were in. You reached the room and Carlos ever so softly turned the knob to go in so as to not wake the other man in the bed. But when he opened the door, the light from the hallway was enough for the both of you to see that the large bed was now completely empty, and the small bed you were once sleeping in now held a sleeping Charles. 

Carlos went over to him and attempted to wake him up, but it was no use. He even attempted to physically pick him up and move him over to the bed, but Charles was already so deep into rem sleep he was practically dead weight. 

You stand watching Carlos, letting the reality of the situation land on your shoulders. The other bedroom only had two twin beds in it, and was occupied by Lando and Alex. The only options at this point were either: one of you taking the couch on the deck or sleeping together in the king bed. You almost didn’t even notice him walking back over to you. 

“He’s not moving.”

You just nodded. You didn’t want to suggest that Carlos sleep on the deck on the waterproof couch, and you sure didn’t want to volunteer. There was truly only one option and both of you knew it. “At least it's not a twin bed.” 

You move first. Sinking into the bed before scooting as far as you possibly could towards the edge of the bed. Carlos still didn’t move. 

“Are you sure?” Carlos said, moving slowly towards the bed finally as if he couldn’t believe it himself. 

“You stay on that side and I stay on this one?” You took one of the pillows from behind your head and put it in the middle of the bed, which earned a laugh from Carlos as he finally sat down on the bed. 

“Deal.” He says, sinking into the bed and moving all the way to the edge just as you had done.

You lay on your back in the shared silence, thinking about how truly funny, silly, this situation was. How far away both of you were from the pillow in the middle even though you quite literally had half of his body currently imprinted on yours. There were a few more moments of silence, you trying to replay, more like trying to piece together, the day you had. You truly thought Carlos had drifted back to sleep, hell, you were close to doing it too even with your running mind, until you heard him let out a heavy breath. 

“Is there anything going on between you and Lando?” Carlos asks, staring at the ceiling. 

Damn, maybe I should have volunteered for the couch. Was it that obvious that he hated me that much? 

“No, nothing at all.” You say, joining Carlos in staring at the ceiling, not daring to look at him. 

Carlos didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move a muscle, just continued to stare straight up. You both stayed like that for a few more moments, until he moved towards the pillow in the middle. He propped himself up on it, fully looking at you now. 

“So, when the boat docks tomorrow, do you want to get lunch with me?” 

Now it was your turn to move, you propped yourself on your arm, turning to look at him.

“Like..” You paused, not wanting to ask the full question yourself. You hoped Carlos would pick up on it and deny. 

“A date? Yeah” 

You flopped back onto your back with a deep sigh. Of course you wanted to go on a date with him, not only was he one of the most attractive people you had ever seen, he was hilarious, kind, sweet. That little voice in the back of your mind though, it was holding you back. Remember the headlines! The tweets! The media! As you looked back at Carlos though, all you could see was the sweet guy who you had just had so much fun with. You let out another heavy sigh, you had just fought so hard with your own self to not think about dating another driver, you had sworn it off. Were you really going to let these big brown eyes break you down so easily? 

“If it does lead somewhere, if this goes somewhere, we take it slow?” You ask, now moving towards the center of the bed too. 

“Of course.”

You just nodded and held out your pinky finger in front of his face. “Pinky promise? You can’t break it. It would be hard to drive without your pinky.” 

Carlos laughs and connects your pinky with his. “I promise.” 

“Okay, then yes, I can do lunch.” You say as you lay back onto the bed again.

tag list :)

@vampgege @mimisweetz @fcblb81 @taebearyoongs @avamblog @decoeurperdu @iheartkhloe @st4rg1rln @bozoqt @kk191327 @n3versatisfied @arabellaholmes505 @vminkookgf @starrgir1 @avengersgirllorianna @msimpala67 @martygraciesversion381 @reluctantlymagicalcipher @moons-v

[myunggikin]

DONT BE LIKE THAT

pairing: choiseunghyun x femreader

warning: toxic argument, smut, makeupsex, possessiveness, angst

a/n: i actually love T.O.P sm so here’s a fic for him:3

Backstage was chaos, wires, staff, music thumping from the speakers outside, but none of it was as loud as your fight.

“I already told you seung hyun, I didn’t like how close she was to you during rehearsals,” you snapped, arms crossed, trying to keep your voice low, but failing.

Seung Hyun stood in front of the vanity mirror, with his black skeleton jacket on, just the right way. “So now I can’t do my job without you acting like a jealous little brat?”

You flinched. “Brat? You flirted with her, Seung Hyun. Don’t gaslight me.”

He turned then, slowly, the vein in his neck twitching. “You are so fucking immature sometimes. I can’t even breathe around a woman without you losing your mind.”

Tears burned behind your eyes. “So i came here with you for nothing? I didn’t come here to argue with you, and that’s all your doing with me. And you won’t even acknowledge how shitty you’ve been.”

He stepped closer, breathing hard. “I don’t need this right now. Not before I go onstage.”

You shoved at his chest. “Fine. Go pretend you love me. You’re so good at pretending.”

His eyes turned cold. “Maybe I should pretend with someone who actually appreciates me. Instead of some clingy girl who only causes drama.”

That hurt.

Your hand moved on instinct, a sharp slap to his cheek that echoed louder than the crowd outside.

His face snapped to the side. Then he laughed bitterly. “You’re pathetic.” He said through gritted teeth.

You didn’t wait to hear more. You ran. Past the makeup artists, down the hallway, out of sight, and then the music started.

You stood in the shadows of the arena, watching him.

The lights hit him like he was a god. Thousands screamed. His voice was steady, perfect. He danced like nothing had happened. Like you didn’t exist.

Tears grew in your eyes, soon falling down your cheeks.

You were still crying when he rapped Doom Dada. Still crying when he smiled at the crowd. You wrapped your arms around yourself, invisible in the chaos, feeling like the loneliest girl in the world.

After the concert. The ride back to the hotel was dead silent. You didn’t hold his hand. He didn’t look at you. When the door closed behind you both, the tension snapped.

“You embarrassed me before I went on stage,” he growled, shrugging off his jacket.

“You hurt me,” you bit back. “I’m not just some girl in your bed, Seung Hyun.”

“Oh really?” he stepped closer, fire in his eyes. “Because you sure act like it. Clingy. Possessive. Like you own me.”

“Because I love you!” your voice cracked

He grabbed your face hard, forcing your eyes up. “You think love gives you the right to control me?”

The next second, your back hit the wall and his mouth was crushing yours, all teeth and desperation. His fingers dug into your hips as he yanked your skirt up.

“This what you wanted?” he growled against your throat, shoving your panties aside. “Me all to yourself? Here. Fucking take it.”

You gasped as he slid two fingers inside you, rough and deep, no teasing. “S-Seung Hyun—”

“You like being ruined when you’re mad, don’t you?” His mouth found your jaw, sucking hard enough to bruise as he pumped faster. “You want me to fuck the fight out of you?”

You couldn’t even answer. You were already dripping around his fingers, thighs shaking.

He lifted you suddenly, carrying you to the bed like you weighed nothing, throwing you down.

“I’m so fucking angry at you,” he said through gritted teeth, yanking his belt open. “And you’re gonna feel it.”

When he slammed into you, it was brutal, deep, fast, punishing, but the pain melted into pleasure almost instantly.

“You still mad at me?” he hissed, dragging your leg over his shoulder. “Still think I don’t care?”

“I hate you,” you cried, choking on a sob.

“Liar.” His thrusts faltered. “You don’t hate me.” He laughed.

“I do.” But your hands were in his hair, your nails on his back. “You’re cruel and cold and—”

“I’m sorry.” He froze, forehead resting against yours. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby.”

The switch up didn’t make any sence to you.

But you felt it, and you were sorry too.

You whimpered, arching into him. “I didn’t mean it either. I was just… scared. Insecure.”

His hands softened on your hips, and now he was kissing you slow. “You’re mine. All mine. No one else. I was wrong. So wrong.”

The tempo changed, still deep, but slower now, more intimate.

“You forgive me?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“I do. Do you?”

“Always.”

You came with his name on your lips, tears running down your cheeks again, but this time from relief. He held you tighter than he ever had, fucking you through the aftershocks until he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving.

And then silence. Heavy, peaceful.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to kiss your lips.

“We’re a mess,” he said with a tired smile.

“Atleast we’re a mess together.” You giggled.

taglist:, @francescaaaaaaa, @thanosspills, @chrissexuall, @fjskskfei

[moon-child-goddess]

Next door (Part Three)

This is part three and there is 2.2k words. I think there may be 2-3 more parts.

Part One Part Two

Summary: Reader meets Lois and Jimmy, and they meddle.

Warnings: I don’t think there is any….

It was finally Friday night, and I was so ready for the weekend after a week that it had felt like it passed in dog years. It was one that made you wish you could quit your job and become a forest hermit.

The elevator chimed cheerfully as its doors slid open—a small miracle, considering it had been out of commission for two whole months.

All those stairs might’ve wrecked my will to live, but at least my legs were looking amazing.

Clark and I had found a rhythm during those weeks. We walked together to a nearby coffee shop. Often sharing smiles over steaming paper cups, occasional shoulder bumps that felt less accidental as days passed.  We’d walk side by side until his route split right and mine veered left.

It was easy. No expectations. I found it comforting to have a friend in this big city. It made it feel like I was home.  

Keys jingled against my palm as I turned the corner, thoughts caught somewhere between takeout menus and the bliss of silence. Only to find two strangers standing awkwardly outside Clark’s door, fumbling with the knob. One of them threw their body at the door while turning it.

“Can I help you?” I asked, adjusting my bag with subtle suspicion.

A woman with dark hair turned slowly, she was polished and unbothered. “Are we at the wrong door? Clark gave us his key while he went to grab dinner.”

So, not robbers. Probably.

“Oh. So friends.” I gave her a polite, vaguely suspicious smile. “Just in case you’re lying—I have a photographic memory, and I know what you both look like.”

That was a statement that would likely get someone killed or at least harmed. But my filter seemed to be  working less and less lately.

I headed toward my own apartment, hoping to retreat and hide under my blankets for the night. But the blond one spoke up before I could even get the key in my door.

“Wait!”

I paused, blinking at him as he pointed at me like I was the exciting plot twist to his evening.

“You’re the neighbor?” He exclaimed.

Was that… a question or a diagnosis?

“Umm… What?”

“Clark’s been different lately. Happier. He keeps talking about his neighbor like she’s rewritten his whole life’s trajectory. And I have never seen you here before.”

My brow inched upward, “I mean, yeah. We have been neighbors for a few months. And I’m not emotionally contagious, if that’s what you’re implying.”

The woman leaned into him. “She’s totally the mysterious neighbor girl.”

“I think you should come over.” He insisted, tugging my arm lightly towards Clark’s apartment. “We ordered way too much food. So, you would be helping us not over eat.”

“I don’t know,” I said, hesitating. “I’ve actually... never been inside his place.”

Clark’s life was busy. Mine too. We caught each other in the mornings, sometimes in passing on the weekends. When he wasn’t working late, I was buried under deadlines. Ours was a friendship built mostly in the quiet hours before the day really began.

“He’ll be ecstatic,” the guy promised, like a man with inside info.

Clark rounded the corner. Take out bags cradled in his arms. His glasses were slightly askew, his tie loosened too. It looked like the last few hours had worn him in just the right way. His baby blue eyes flicked between his friends… and then landed on me.

I was frozen like I’d been caught doing something I wasn’t meant to. Even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong.

He looked like he didn’t expect me to be here. But didn’t hate that I was.

“Hey,” he breathed out, like my presence shifted his gravity.

“Hi.” the sound barely made it out. Laced with more emotion than I intended. But I hadn’t expected his tone to affect me like that.

His friends snickered beside me, and I blushed. Officially embarrassed.

Clark’s gave them an inquisitive look, “What is going on here?

“They were, uh, trying to get me to come over,” I said. “And I was in the process of telling them no.”

He chuckled, stepping aside and nodding toward his door. “They meddle. You should come anyway—I made dessert.”

Those were magic words. Sweets were practically my love language.

“Okay.” Casual attempt #1: failed.

“That’s Jimmy and Lois,” he added. “We work together.”

So, they do have names. I was about to start calling them Thing One and Thing Two.

Inside, his apartment was clean and almost too neat. There was one out of place pile of books on the floor of his living room, a flannel draped over and armchair like it had been placed there in a haste. It smelled like cinnamon, and safety.

Of course, his apartment was charming. Of course, there wasn’t laundry in weird places or suspicious smells. It made my place look like an episode of hoarders. It was a controlled mess though. I knew where everything was.

I hovered in the entryway, unsure of where I belonged here.

Clark said my name quietly and handed me a cold soda can. It was my favorite. Of course he knew that. His fingers brushed mine, a touch just long enough to remember.

Without a word, he took my other hand and gently pulled me along, past the kitchen.

“It’s okay, they don’t bite. Only have questionable etiquette.”

He glanced at his friends making themselves at home.

I let out a giggle, though it wasn’t real. It was more a nervous tick then real amusement.

Jimmy was already tearing into the takeout like it was his kitchen and not borrowed space.

He tugged me toward the sofa. Lois was already there sitting, scrolling through her phone with the kind of casual grace that suggested she ran the room no matter where she sat.

Clark motioned for me to sit beside him on the end of the cushions. I would be close enough that our thighs would press together if either of us breathed wrong.

That hesitation crept back in, unsure of what the rules were here.  

He guided me down with a touch so gentle it barely felt real. Just as I’d predicted, his thigh pressed against mine. I filed the sensation under fever dream and folded inward, trying to make myself small enough to eliminate the contact.

“You, doing okay?” he asked quietly, voice barely louder than the hum of city traffic outside the window.

“Ye-Yeah.” My voice cracked, and I winced. “I’m just not great with new people.”

“I get that,” he said, eyes kind. “Me either. But I’m really glad you’re here.

It sounded effortless. Unbothered. But something fluttered behind my ribs.

Lois glanced up with an amused smile. “You two look cozy.”

Jimmy appeared with plates, setting them down like offerings. He leaned in. “So, tell us, neighbor girl—”

“Y/N,” Clark interjected softly. “Her name’s Y/N.”

Jimmy shot me a look full of mischief. “So, tell me Y/N. What have you been doing to have our dear friend Clark?  He has been whistling like a fairy tale princess in the mornings.”

I flushed. Clark immediately lobbed a fortune cookie at Jimmy’s head with impeccable aim. Lois sighed, half-laughing while muttering out a stop to Jimmy. They clearly operated on their own wavelength of chaos.

I tried not to combust from embarrassment

“I, er- we get coffee and walk together every morning,” I offered, shifting slightly. My thigh pressed back into Clark’s, and I couldn’t pretend it didn’t feel nice.  “It’s probably just the caffeine. And the fresh air.”

“Yeah. The caffeine.” Clark repeated under his breath.

Our eyes locked again. A millisecond of silence stretching between us, like something unspoken had stepped between us.

“You should try this, its delicious.” Lois handed me one of the glass plates of food.  

I silently thanked her for interrupting.

I took a bite of something saucy and crispy and immediately groaned in delight. Whatever it was? Absolute poetry in food form

 “Okay, what the hell—this is incredible.” I reached for more of the delicious goodness. “You didn’t tell me you had good taste in takeout too,”

“You didn’t ask,” He teased.

“You move boxes, build things, make coffee runs, find magical food spots... and bake? You're kind of the dream package.” I winced at my own ramble but couldn’t seem to stop.

He leaned in a little closer, just enough to make my pulse skip.

“Good with my hands,” he murmured, grin unapologetically wicked. “You said it.”

I nearly choked on air. “That was the caffeine overdose talking.”

“Sure, it was.”

Lois snorted. Jimmy leaned back, gleeful. “This is better than any reality show I’ve binged this year.”

This was it. It was basically my worst nightmare. Well—short of public nudity

Clark didn’t flinch at his friends’ antics. Like this was just how things were with them, and maybe it was.

He passed me a napkin without me needing to ask, because of course he did. And I took it accidentally, but really on purpose— skimmed my fingers along his.

His pinky curled lightly around mine before retreating. Just a breath of contact. As if he also wanted to touch me too.

Lois sipped her drink, watching us like she had a front row seat to her new favorite show.

“So, you adorable mystery,” She drawled. “What are your intentions with our dear sweet friend?”   

I dropped my chopsticks. “Say that again?”

Clark groaned. “Lois, please.”

But Jimmy jumped in too, eyes wide with faux curiosity. “No, no, I second that. I need to know if I should be preparing tissues for heartbreak or a wedding toast. Wait— are you single? That is the important question”

I was tempted to mess with him and tell him I wasn’t. But I was not really into lying for fun.

“Yes, I am.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Clark muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“I don’t know about intentions, but I plan to maybe steal some of his time this weekend.”  I looked at the side of his face. “If that is ok with you that is? I still owe you pizza, and a fort.”

“I’m yours.” The words came out so warm, they filled the room like sunlight.

“I mean—like, whenever you want. Just text me, okay?”

Lois squeaked. “Okay, that’s enough flirting over noodles. Someone change the subject before I start rooting for you two out loud.”

Jimmy raised his soda in a mock toast. “Too late. I already ship it.”

Clark stood a little too quickly. “I’m gonna… grab the brownies.”

He disappeared into the kitchen like it was a safe house, but not before I caught the faint flush climbing the back of his neck. The telltale pink brushed the tips of his ears.

I smiled to myself and gathered our plates, fingers slipping beneath ceramic still warm from dinner.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said as I entered, peeling open a plastic container. “You’re my guest.”

I brushed past him toward the sink. “You help me all the time. Let me return the favor.”

The faucet squeaked on, warm water rushed over my hands. Clark left to go set the Tupperware in the living room. Muffled laughter flooded into the kitchen. Jimmys easy banter blended with Lois’s snark. They were the perfect set of friends.

When he came back, the energy shifted. I feigned calm, but the air felt denser. He lingered behind me, close enough for the heat of him to wrap around my shoulders like a borrowed hoodie.

This wasn’t morning Clark. Not the sunny, joking version. This was end-of-day Clark. Unbuttoned, quieter. He made me nervous.

“If I asked you to stay a little longer...” he began, voice low. “Would that be okay?”

The question unfurled in the quiet. I froze. My hands stilled around the plate. Water slipped past my fingers. My heart nearly did the same.

Would it be okay?

I wanted to laugh at how fast my answer hit me. Or how badly I wanted to pretend I was playing it cool.

I glanced at him over my shoulder.

He was watching me with that warm-eyed patience he always carried, only now it was edged with hesitation. Like he’d placed something delicate between us and was waiting to see if I’d crush it.

“Depends,” I said, softer this time, tilting my head. “Is there more charming me involved?”

His smile was slow and crooked, and a little helpless. “Highly likely.”

“Then yeah,” I murmured, drying my hands on the towel with a faint shrug. “I think I can be convinced.”

From the living room, Jimmy yelled something about needing milk to go with the brownies and Lois countered with “We’re not going grocery shopping at 9pm, you maniac.”

I laughed, unable to help it, and Clark’s gaze flicked to my mouth before rising back to meet my eyes.

It wasn’t subtle. None of this was.

Stay a little longer.

Yeah. I could do that.

Whatever this was between us... it wasn’t just takeout and casual neighbor banter anymore.

[sleepy-hyperfixations]

https://www.tumblr.com/sleepy-hyperfixations/790248939273289728/httpswwwtumblrcomsleepy-hyperfixations790213

Mack's been in the bathroom for way too long.

Will notices because they’ve been living together long enough now to pick up on patterns. Ten minutes is a Mack “quick rinse.” Twenty is a “full exfoliate and deep conditioner.” But right now? It’s been over twenty, and the shower hasn’t even turned on.

Will frowns and tosses his phone aside. Pads barefoot over the cold floor and taps on the door with the backs of his knuckles.

“Mack?”

No answer. Not even a fake “yeah, hang on” like usual.

He knocks again. “Babe? You good?”

A pause, then Mack’s voice, tight and a little too bright: “Yeah! Just���give me a sec.”

Will leans his head against the door. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Just listens.

He hears breathing. Quiet. Uneven.

“Mack,” he says, soft now. “Can I come in?”

“Just—give me a minute, okay?”

“You said that like ten minutes ago.”

“I’m fine,” Mack bites out.

Will exhales through his nose. “Okay. But if you’re actually fine, you won’t mind me coming in, right?”

Silence.

Then, quietly, click.

Will pushes the door open.

The lights are off.

The bathroom is cool and dim, the kind of dusky grey that creeps in through a window when the sun’s setting. Mack is sitting on the closed toilet seat, hunched over in a towel, arms wrapped around his middle. His hair is damp, he must’ve done a rinse, but his face is dry, pale, and he’s studiously avoiding eye contact with his reflection in the mirror.

He doesn’t look up.

Will kneels in front of him, “You wanna talk about it?”

Mack doesn’t answer.

Will gently puts his hands on Mack’s knees. Just rests them there. A quiet I’m here.

“I don’t know what to say,” Mack mutters eventually.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because I wanna help,” Will says. “But only if you want me to.”

Mack scoffs. “There’s nothing to help.”

Will just hums. “Okay.”

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t poke.

And Mack hates that. Hates that Will doesn’t try to fix it, doesn’t demand an explanation. Hates it because it makes him feel safe, and that safety makes it worse. Like if he lets himself breathe, he’ll start sobbing and never stop.

“I just…” Mack swallows hard. “I hate looking at myself sometimes.”

Will’s hands rub gently along the tops of his thighs. “What are you seeing that’s making you feel like that?”

“I don’t know. Me.”

Will stays quiet.

And Mack hates that too, because it makes him talk more. Makes the words tumble out even though they taste like acid.

“I just—every time I catch a glimpse of myself, all I see is…” He flinches. “All the parts I hate. My stomach. My chest. My face. I look bloated and puffy and—and you’re out there walking around shirtless looking like a Calvin Klein ad and I’m in here looking like a fucking before photo.”

Will’s breath catches. But he doesn’t interrupt.

Mack shakes his head. “And I know it’s dumb. I know I’m not, like, that big, and that it doesn’t matter, and that other people have it worse, and I should be grateful I even have a body that works but—”

“Hey,” Will says, gentle but firm. “No more of that. Your pain doesn’t stop being valid just because someone else is struggling too.”

Mack’s lip trembles.

“I feel like I’m too much,” he whispers. “Like I take up too much space. Like I’m always soft in the wrong places. I see pictures of us and I swear to God I look like a fucking marshmallow standing next to you.”

Will cups Mack’s cheek. “That’s not what I see.”

“I know,” Mack snaps. “That’s what makes it worse. You never see it. You’re always so nice and you always want me and I keep thinking—how long until that changes? How long until you realize you could be with someone better?”

Will stills.

Mack’s eyes are shining. “Someone hotter. Someone with abs and a jawline that could cut glass and no weird little stretch marks on their hips—”

“I love your stretch marks,” Will blurts.

Mack blinks at him. “What?”

Will presses a kiss to Mack’s thigh, just above the knee. “I do. They’re like art. They’re yours. They tell a story. Every inch of you is something I crave.”

Mack goes quiet.

Will scoots closer. “You think I don’t notice how soft your belly gets when you’re laughing? Or how you always pull your shirt down even though you don’t have to? You think I don’t see how hard you try to disappear into the corners of rooms because you think you’re too much?”

Mack breathes in sharply.

“Well guess what,” Will says. “You are too much. For people who don’t deserve you. Not for me.”

Mack looks away.

Will follows him with his eyes. “You are everything, Macklin. You’re warm and solid and you fit against me like you were fucking designed to. I love holding you. I love touching you. I love seeing you walk around in nothing but a towel, even when you think I’m not looking.”

Mack’s cheeks flush pink.

“I know your brain lies to you,” Will says. “But let me be louder than it for a minute.”

He reaches up and gently traces his fingers along Mack’s waist, across the little dip where softness gives way to skin. Mack jerks away like he’s been burned.

“Don’t,” he says, voice breaking.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re only doing it to make me feel better and it doesn’t work.”

Will swallows. “What if I’m doing it because I love you?”

Mack squeezes his eyes shut.

“I love every single part of you, Mack,” Will says, quieter now. “Even the parts you haven’t made peace with yet. Especially those.”

Mack starts crying then, not in loud sobs, but in quiet, hitching gasps like his lungs are trying to give up.

Will pulls him in, towel and all, and cradles him against his chest. Just holds him while he shakes.

It takes a while. But eventually, Mack’s breathing evens out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Will’s neck.

“Don’t be,” Will says. “I’m glad you told me.”

Mack leans back, eyes still wet. “You’re not gonna leave?”

Will stares at him. “Is that even a question?”

Mack shrugs helplessly.

Will cups his face. “You think I’d survive more than a day without you? You’re the best part of my whole damn life.”

Mack sniffles. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I kinda do.”

Will grins. “Can I show you how much I love your body now? Like actually show you?”

Mack hesitates. “I don’t think I can be naked right now.”

“Then don’t be,” Will says, pressing kisses to his cheeks. “We’ll go slow. You call the shots.”

Mack leans into him. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Will lifts him up gently, bridal style, and carries him out of the bathroom.

Mack giggles through his tears. “You’re such a showoff.”

“I’m literally obsessed with you,” Will says, laying him down on the bed. “Get ready to be worshipped like the actual god you are.”

Mack rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

Will sees it, and knows, with quiet certainty, that Mack might not believe him yet.

But he will.

- sleep-deprived anon

Will, dead serious: they would have made statues of you in ancient Greece

(I just woke up and u've made me sad)

[soft4changbin]

Strictly professional

Lee Know x stylist!reader

Summary: When Lee Know needs a date to a family friend’s wedding to stop his relatives’ matchmaking attempts, he turns to you — his stylist and longtime annoyance. It’s just a favor. But when fake smiles start to feel a little too warm, you realize something’s shifted.

Word count: 1,028

You’re halfway through steaming a stage outfit when Minho leans into the dressing room doorway and says, “I need you to fake date me this weekend.”

You glance up. “Did I inhale too much lint steam, or did you actually say that?”

“My parents are going to a wedding. One of their close friends’ kids — you know, one of those family friends you only see at awkward holiday parties? Apparently, all the other kids my age are showing up with someone. And now I’m ‘the last bachelor standing.’”

You raise a brow. “So your solution is bringing your stylist?”

He shrugs, not even pretending to be shy about it. “You’re already used to pretending you don’t hate me. Thought you might be convincing.”

You scowl. “You’re lucky I know this suit needs less stress wrinkle.”

That weekend, you find yourself in the passenger seat of his car, wearing a dress you wouldn’t normally pick, heading toward a countryside wedding surrounded by strangers — and Minho’s sharp-tongued aunties.

“Just so we’re clear,” you say. “We’re keeping it light. Hand-holding. Side hugs. No slow dancing.”

Minho doesn’t look over. “Why? You scared you might like it?”

You scoff, but your heart stutters anyway.

The wedding is straight out of a drama — white roses, string lights, soft music playing under laughter and clinking glasses. Minho blends in easily, charming his parents’ friends with polite nods and subtle smiles.

You, on the other hand, are very aware of the stares.

“Is this the famous girlfriend we’ve heard nothing about?” one woman gushes.

Minho places a hand on your back without missing a beat. “The very one.”

You glance up at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. He smiles down at you like he’s been doing this his whole life.

And somehow, your cheeks go warm.

You eat cake. You fake laugh. You even let Minho feed you a bite when someone points a camera your way.

Later, you’re sitting under a fairy-lit tree, heels off, cooling your feet in the grass.

Minho joins you, undoing the top button of his shirt. “Not so bad, right?”

You glance at him. “They love you.”

He shrugs. “They love you. I don’t think my mom’s stopped smiling since you walked in.”

You nudge him with your knee. “She has good taste.”

He turns to look at you — really look. “Yeah. She does.”

Your breath catches.

That night, in the little inn where the wedding guests are staying, you and Minho sit on opposite ends of the bed, brushing your teeth in awkward silence.

“This is weird,” you mutter through foam.

“What, sharing a bed with someone you claim to hate?”

You rinse your mouth and lie back on the mattress, careful to stay on your side. “Exactly.”

The light clicks off. Darkness wraps around you. But you can still hear his breathing beside you.

“I didn’t pick you just because it was easy,” he says suddenly. “I trust you.”

You roll onto your side to face him in the dim light.

“I didn’t say yes because it was easy, either,” you whisper.

The next day, when someone calls for “the couple in black” to take a photo by the rose arch, Minho slips his fingers into yours like it’s second nature.

He doesn’t let go until long after the picture is taken.

On the drive home, the silence is different. Not uncomfortable — just heavy with everything unsaid.

“Minho.”

He glances over.

“If you ask me to do something like that again… don’t expect me to be as good at faking it.”

He gives a small smile, eyes soft. “Who said I want it to be fake next time?”

You laugh — quiet and stunned.

And it feels like a beginning.

Not of a lie.

But of something real.

[ghoststurnx]

TENSION - M.S.

warnings: smut, semi-public unprotected sex (don't do that), suggestive language, tension, enemies

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you hated matt.

not in the casual, harmless way you might hate someone’s bad taste in music or the way they chewed their gum—no, this was real, tangible hate. the kind that settled deep in your chest every time he spoke with that smug, too-smooth tone of his. the kind that flared every time he walked into a room like he owned it. and the worst part?

you had to work with him.

same department, same floor, same meetings, same deadlines. a daily torment. your boss had paired you up six months ago under the idiotic belief that “tension breeds innovation.” maybe it did. you were both top performers—but that didn’t mean you had to like each other.

and now here you were. 10:03 PM. just the two of you left in the office.

the soft buzz of the overhead lights mixed with the hum of the air conditioning. the city outside glowed with neon and noise, but up here, it was quiet. the kind of quiet that made your skin prickle.

matt sat across the conference table from you, brow furrowed as he scrolled through the deck you’d spent all day arguing over. his tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, the top button undone. you hated that your eyes lingered.

“slide six still looks like shit,” he said, not looking up.

you exhaled through your nose. “maybe that’s because you keep insisting on using comic sans.”

he smirked. “it’s helvetica.”

“it’s criminal,” you muttered, standing to cross the room, grabbing a stale cookie from the break table.

he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “you always get snippy when you’re wrong.”

you turned slowly, eyeing him. “and you always get smug when you’re insecure.”

the silence that followed was heavy. familiar.

matt’s jaw clenched slightly. you noticed—and hated that you noticed. you hated how the light hit his cheekbones, how his shirt pulled slightly at the shoulders when he stretched.

“what are we even doing?” you said finally, gesturing at the mess of notes and glowing laptops. “it’s ten at night, we’re exhausted, and you’re just… pissing me off for fun at this point.”

he stood.

not fast. not threatening. but deliberate. the air shifted.

“i think we’re both doing the same thing,” he said, voice low. “trying not to say what we actually want to say.”

your throat went dry. “which is?”

he stepped closer. “that maybe we don’t just hate each other.”

your breath caught.

you should’ve pushed him away. should’ve told him to shut up, get out, grow up. but you didn’t move. your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your palms warm at your sides.

“say it,” you whispered.

he didn’t.

he kissed you.

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet. it was months—maybe years—of sharp words, accidental touches, loaded glances finally exploding.

you stumbled backward until your spine hit the wall. his hands gripped your waist like he didn’t trust this to be real—like he thought you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. you kissed him back just as fiercely, nails dragging over the back of his neck, gasping against his lips as he pressed against you, all heat and tension and frustration finally unleashed.

“still hate me?” he asked, mouth brushing your jaw, voice ragged.

“more than ever,” you breathed, tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

the table was too far. the desk was closer. he turned you, guiding you toward it, papers and pens scattering to the floor as he lifted you onto the surface, stepping between your legs like he belonged there. like he always had.

you pulled him in again, your legs wrapping around his waist as your mouths collided—biting, tasting, claiming. his hands moved with purpose, and so did yours. there was nothing delicate about it, nothing cautious—just need, raw and real.

clothes came off in urgent pieces. hands roamed. bodies met.

you clung to him like you were still trying to win, like this was another round in the endless fight between you—except now it had a rhythm, a heat, a friction that made everything else fade out.

he pressed into you, and you exhaled his name like you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

the desk creaked under you. your breathing quickened. his lips were on your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone—and your fingers found his back, dug in, pulled him closer.

he moved inside you with a kind of urgency that bordered on reckless, like he was trying to erase every argument you’d ever had, every look you’d thrown his way. each thrust was sharp and deliberate, sending small shudders through your body as your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you.

youur forehead dropped to his shoulder, your breath hot against his skin. he hissed your name through gritted teeth, like it slipped out before he could catch it.

his grip on your hips tightened, dragging you toward him with each movement, your bodies crashing together again and again, harder, faster, until the rhythm turned ragged and breathless. you bit back a moan, your head tilting back, and he chased the sound with his mouth, kissing you again, messier this time—open-mouthed, panting, desperate.

you gasped as you came, your fingers locking around his shoulders, body arching against his. he wasn’t far behind, groaning into your neck, his movements faltering until he finally stilled, holding you like he wasn’t sure he was ready to let go.

there were no words after that.

you just stared at each other.

and for the first time, neither of you had anything clever to say.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- i’m sorry, i’m on vacation, but I’ll try to be active

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[pankowblues]

Even Now, I Love You

conrad x reader

WARNINGS: none

you and conrad are exes and arguing. a storm hits, the power goes out, and everything you’ve both been holding in finally comes out.

The argument started before the storm.

Something stupid. Something small. One of those arguments that had been waiting to be talked about.

“You always shut me out,” you snapped, your voice louder than you meant it to be.

Conrad’s jaw clenched. “Because you never want to hear what I actually feel!”

“Well maybe if you said it instead of making me guess—”

“I did,” he fired back. “I always did. You just stopped listening.”

You glared at him across the kitchen, the flash of lightning outside painting his face in harsh, sharp contrast. You hated how good he still looked, even when you were mad. Even when you were broken. Even when everything felt like it was falling apart.

“I don’t even know why you came,” you said bitterly.

He didn’t answer.

Outside, thunder cracked.

And then — the lights went out.

The power outage stole the last of your anger.

In its place came silence, thick and tense. The only sounds were the storm outside and the shallow breaths you were both trying to control.

“I’ll find candles,” he muttered, already moving.

You didn’t stop him.

A few minutes later, the kitchen glowed in a warm light — a soft halo of light that made everything feel more intimate.

You stood near the sink. He stood at the counter. A few feet apart, but it felt like miles.

“I didn’t want to fight,” you said finally, voice quieter. “I just… I don’t know what we are anymore.”

Conrad looked at you like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“You think I don’t love you anymore?” he asked, and his voice cracked on the last word.

You looked down, unable to answer.

“I never stopped,” he said, stepping closer. “I tried. God, I tried. But you’re in everything.”

You blinked hard, tears threatening to fall.

He kept going.

“You’re in the songs I hear. The way I drive. The way I brush my teeth in the morning. I look for you out of habit, even when I know you’re not there.”

“Conrad—”

“I loved you when you slammed the door. I loved you when you didn’t text back. I loved you when I walked away, and I love you right now, even though I don’t think you’ll ever forgive me.”

You were crying now, full-on, hands shaking.

And then — softly, pleading:

“Stay,” he whispered. “Just stay.”

You looked up, and something in you broke. In the best way.

You crossed the space between you and kissed him like it was the first time all over again. Desperate. Deep. Real. Like you’d been waiting months just to breathe him back in.

He held you like he’d never let go again.

Outside, the storm kept raging.

But inside, in that candlelit kitchen, you found peace.

Together.

This is so rushed but I needed to write before I don’t write anything for a while since I’ve been so busy with cheer and school is starting soon 💔

taglist: @lindsaynathi0n , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @rafecameroncoke, @v4mqvs , @aariahnaa, @congratsloserr , @333miaa