#This is somehow exactly what I expected from you and better then what I expected from you

[scoobydoodean]

ok so forewarning, i don’t really have a question here, just lots of thoughts.

there’s so many layers to the general *badness* about the mia vallens therapy scene. like to the manipulation (for lack of a better word) that sam rewrites. like it makes such a difference that she thinks jack is their little brother instead of the son of the thing that killed dean’s best friend/loml. not to mention the fact that it’s been what like a week since *everything*

and like yes dean’s being cold towards jack and giving him orders (which, i could argue they weren’t uncalled-for), but tbh he’s only being moderately colder/more direct with him than he’s been with cas at times on hunts (thinking hunteri heroici) and even similar to how *sam* has been with like claire and even dean himself (thinking that episode dean turned into a teenager and all of MOC). like genuinely, how was sam expecting him to act like?

also (half joking) i genuinely think dean would’ve warmed up to jack even quicker than he did (we can already see it in this same episode, like that look he gives jack when he asks mia if buddy hurt her too) if he heard jack say he hates anakin skywalker lol

ok wait i do have a question. do you think jack actually was “terrified” of dean during that therapy scene?

(post linking to some context)

Okay so I rewatched 13.01-13.04 on a plane this past week so it's all extra fresh on my mind rn. The thing about 13.04 is that Dean wasn't comfortable bringing Jack on the hunt, and Jack didn't want to go, but Sam pushed insistently for all of them to go on the hunt together... primarily because Dean's feelings were thwarting Sam's plans for Jack and his own emotional coping mechanisms in a larger sense.

I think Dean's feelings compared to Sam's here are relatively more simple (and yet somehow still intensely misunderstood to a baffling degree). Dean was grieving. He was grieving Cas who died right in front of him, he was grieving Crowley (he pleads with Chuck to bring "even Crowley" back in 13.01!) and he was grieving Mary.

The thing with Dean's grief over Cas is this: instead of viewing it from Dean's perspective, we tend to analyze it as omniscient viewers who know Cas will come back, refusing see how miraculous Cas’s return truly was. We refuse to see Cas's death was different this time and appeared very permanent. There was no uncertainty like there was in season 7 or 8. His wings burned into the ground and his grace extinguished. Dean pleaded and prayed for Cas and Mary and Crowley's return to the only person who ever brought Cas back from certain death (via explosion in 5.01 and 5.22)—the person who told Dean in 11.23 he was leaving and Dean was on his own. Dean didn't hear back. The ONLY reason Cas comes back in 13.05 is that 1) Jack woke him him up unwittingly using powers no one knew he possessed and 2) Cas then annoyed a creature they didn't even know existed into letting him out of a place they 3) didn't even know existed and 4) Cas somehow came back with a body even though he had been burned to ash. All of this is completely miraculous. It was unforeseeable. It doesn’t even make complete sense as a viewer. In other words, Dean has ZERO reason to hope for Cas's return. There was ZERO reason to refuse to acknowledge that grief… but that's exactly what Sam does. He suggests Dean pray for Chuck to bring Cas back in 13.01. As soon as Sam knew Dean already tried that and Cas was DEAD dead, he treated Cas as something Dean needed to reframe and get over:

SAM: You thinking mom is gone and Cas is gone, and that Jack can’t be saved. Dean, after everything we’ve gone through… We just lost people we love, people who have been in our lives for a long time. Everything’s upside-down. I get it. But we’ve been down before. I mean, rock bottom. And we find a way. We fix it because that’s what we do.

This is the "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps" speech in 13.02—like a day after they burned Cas's body. Sam's wording here is cruel too—saying Dean is "thinking" Cas is gone as if he didn't die right in front of him? He refuses to acknowledge Cas's death as something Dean was actively and rightfully mourning. This becomes a major point of contention between the brothers at the end of 13.03.

DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use [Jack] as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost! SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!

Sam will only name Mary—the one person whose death they can’t 100% confirm (the same thing happens in front of Mia in 13.04). The absence of Cas’s name here is pointed. So Dean says:

DEAN: And what about Cas?

And how does Sam respond?

SAM: What about Cas?

Uh... wow. That's what really sets Dean off to full on shouting:

DEAN: [Jack] manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

Sam's denial of what Dean literally SAW (Cas died) and how that hurts—his insistence that Dean also halt grieving to hope for the impossible—it's a major sticking point and very revealing of Sam's own coping mechanisms. Sam's chief response to grief is to disassociate himself from it. We see a textbook case in season 8 (see: 8.08), but in most of the series, what this actually looks like for Sam is to keep moving and hunting (ex: 1.02, 2.02, 2.10, 2.11, 2.18 3.11, 4.09, 9.01) which is also why he insists on bringing Dean and Jack on the hunt in 13.04. Sam tries not to think about what they've lost and focuses on what he CAN do. He focuses on hoping Mary can be saved because she's the one person he didn't SEE die.

The thing about Dean’s grief over Mary is this: he convinces himself Lucifer had to have killed her. She's the one person whose death Dean can't be certain of, but he absolutely cannot bear the thought of hoping she’s alive and it turning out he’s wrong. He knows he wouldn’t psychologically survive hoping in that and his beliefs being crushed. It would be like losing his mom all over again (a THIRD time). So he sticks to what is most likely: Lucifer killed her. He can't contend with the hope Sam is clinging to desperately, and that's what makes them such poor companions in grief. Sam feels off balance when Dean won't keep moving and hoping like him—when Dean can't keep up the pace Sam wants to run at in his own grief—and in doing so, Sam keeps pushing Dean to contend with hopes that open Dean up to a WORLD of pain Sam can psychologically convince himself not to feel. Grieving together just really just doesn't work for them because they're never on the same page and deal in such different ways—and this has been hurting them from as early as 2.02!!!

Now to bring Jack into this more fully: Jack represents Sam and Dean's different perspectives on grief and on Mary. Just like Dean despairs over Mary's demise, Dean despairs over the possibility of Jack being good. He can't bear the idea of hoping in that and being wrong. The psychologically safest option for him is to assume the worst and not hope or believe in anything turning out okay.

Sam, on the other hand, pretty much immediately sees a way to use Jack to get Mary back. This is clear when he and Jack get locked up together in the jail cell in 13.01. After establishing that Jack isn't hearing things and (probably) isn't going to murder him imminently, Sam immediately starts down a line of questioning establishing how well Jack understands his powers, and then asks him outright:

SAM: Jack, look, um... before you were born, you -- you opened up a door to another world. Do you remember that? JACK: Yes. SAM: Okay, um, could you do that again?

Shortly after, when Sam arrives, he tells Dean (who is convinced after everything that happened in 12.23 that 12.19 that Jack is evil or will turn evil):

We need him.

Sam repeats this sentiment multiple times with clear meaning, and later in 13.04, he admits to Jack that he wants to use him to open the portal. This doesn't mean he doesn't also grow to see himself in Jack quickly and genuinely believe in his capacity for good, but he isn't fully honest with Jack about his motives until 13.04 where he finally comes clean, and this poisons the well with Jack a little.

@shallowseeker has pointed out before that in 13.03, while trying to figure out how to get Jack's powers to work (and spying on Jack through cameras from another room) Sam is seen reading "The Drama Of The Gifted Child". I wish I could find the post because Shal probably brought it up too, but when I was rewatching this episode, I noticed the chapter Sam had just settled into read before being interrupted was titled,

"Depression and Grandiosity: Two Related Forms of Denial"

Given the accusations flying from Sam toward Dean then from Dean toward Sam about denial in the following episode (13.04), this feels amusingly pointed. Dean is depressed (and about to attempt suicide in 13.05), Sam is depressed and has "grandiose" ideas of using Jack to pop open a portal to another reality while hiding behind the guise of being the most rational person in the room when he... isn't necessarily? And it's easy to argue "Well, Sam turns out to be right even if he didn't ultimately have much of a reason to think he was" but the core problem here is how his beliefs effect how he treats other people's grief. He isn't honest with Jack about his motives (while Dean is somewhat brutally honest) and pushes and watches even while claiming he's giving Jack space (13.03), he refuses to give Dean space to grieve even the family member they know is dead, he inserts a therapist into the situation and criticizes Dean's grief when Dean won't play his game, and in 13.05, after Dean says that he can't believe in anything right now, Sam's clumsy attempts at help involve plying Dean with alcohol he says he doesn't even want and trying to send him off to strip clubs—believing that Dean performing being okay will somehow address his mental state because Sam's idea of coping himself is simply "going through the motions".

As for Jack, I don't think he's scared of Dean. I think he's scared of what Dean believes. He's scared that Dean is right. From 13.01-13.06, Jack is contending with the question of whether he's destined for evil or good, and in his depressed state, Dean believes Jack is destined for evil because hoping in anything is completely beyond him at that moment. Sam tells Jack that he can be good, but he hides ulterior motives as to why he's being nice, and when those ulterior motives are revealed, it leaves Jack thinking Sam is the kind of person who will lie to Jack and tell him he's good just to get what he wants. Meanwhile, Jack knows Dean is being completely honest with him about what he believes. 13.03 and 13.04 clearly demonstrate that Jack understands the difference between beliefs and facts: Dean could be right or he could be wrong. What Jack holds onto like an anchor is that he can trust Dean to tell him the truth about what he believes—even if it hurts.

It's also just so obvious that Jack immediately wants Dean—specifically—to like him (see: Jack mimicking Dean's mannerisms while eating in 13.02, and his clumsy attempts to earn his favor in 13.04). Sam also picks up on this, and encourages Jack to seek Dean's approval in 13.04 to try and change Dean's beliefs. Sam (and to some extent Jack) are thinking in 13.04, that if Jack can prove to Dean that he can be good, and if Dean tells him he did a good job (which Dean does in the end), Jack can believe that. Sam sees that Jack wants Dean's approval and the impression that Dean's beliefs have had on Jack and thinks by pushing them together as soon as possible (when neither of them want to go on the hunt) and treating them as a family and forcing Dean to accept Jack when Dean just isn't ready (including by paralleling Jack with himself in a way that becomes an accusation), he can "fix" Jack so he isn't scared of his powers anymore (13.03) and then he can teach Jack to use his powers and Jack can open a portal to save their mom.

Jack's attempts to earn Dean's favor in 13.04 are clumsy. His first attempt is directly ignoring Dean telling him to wait in the car and sneaking into the crime scene, potentially contaminating it. At Mia's office, Jack's outburst about losing a mother is what allows Sam to set up the whole family therapy trap to begin with, and because Dean knows Sam is going to use that to hurt him, he warns Jack not to make outbursts like that. Dean is not being nice. Point blank. And I do think his tone is a little different than with Cas which in the past felt more like exasperation. I also don’t think it makes him the devil. I think that's understandable when putting in even a tiny amount of effort and it's kind of laughable to me how few people seem to even try because they're so caught up in Sam's happy family narrative and the idea that someone wanting Dean's approval presents an obligation that Dean give it no matter how emotionally impossible—and in a situation where asking him to lie would actually destroy that much more of Jack's trust.

[hisaribi]

Reverse robins brainrot but not to the side even I expected

So Tim aged eighteen goes to circus with his father, because that was one of the last happy memories they had with Janet. Bruce also comes with sixteen years old Jason, who weren't in the field, just adopted by Bruce, because he uncovered student of his orphanage to criminal pipeline and was mostly training under Bruce and Damian to follow them, Damian is a part of covert operations team under the Justice League, he couldn't come because Arkham had an escape this day and he needed to come here to deal with it.

Apparently Mary Grayson remembered Drakes and specifically Janet, and seemed really sad that she died. Drakes and Graysons made a photo about ten years ago, and well, somehow they decided to make another photo together. Back than it was Mary, her brother Rick, his wife Karla and their son John, who at that time was six and didn't act on trapeze. Now they expanded with Mary's husband John and their child Dick. The kid was very enthusiastic, telling Tim he was allowed to family's routine for the first time (which was a lie, he just tells it to everyone who aren't really deep into the following circus circles on media or whatever, because people get worried if they hear he's been doing it for a couple of years already). But this time he was mostly to do some tricks in the begining with cousin John and at the end with his parents, because he was still getting better from a bad cold he had, and he was only allowed to act out the less risky parts of their show. Tim told him he would watch for his performance, even though this whole thing still left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, but the kid didn't need to know that. Dick was a very tactile kid and hugged Tim closely. What neither Drakes noted was how Dick stole Tim's wallet, and how cousin John got it back to exactly the same pocket. He promised not to tell parents, but for that Dick would have to bring him an ice cream after the show.

Tim and Jason were sort of friendly in a way that our father's get all over each other but not in the romantic sense and we have to awkwardly stand next to them while they talk to each other and catch up for literal hours. Jason also shared that Damian couldn't come, but was somewhat indifferent to that, because Damian had always called Jason a charity case, so their relationship were strained, he didn't know about the current Arkham escape, while Bruce did. They politely talked about school, circus and some tv show that was big lately.

From time to time they made jokes or comment about the act on stage, sometimes framing everything as a reference to some meme or show just because they could.

And then the Flying Graysons came, a closing act, and Tim told Jason about what he knew about the family and their youngest member, Jason sort of frowned about the kid this young being allowed to risk so much, but both just decided that circus people were crazy just like that.

And then they saw the family fall during the difficult trick Dick didn't participate in.

His only alive Grayson relative from the group was Rick, all the news were about it, and well, Mr Wayne was somewhat invested, and well, Tim followed news, all movements and threads, he almost ready to reason with his father to adopt Dick, because... there was some other player that didn't let the kid stay in circus' care, and it surely wasn't out of his best interests, because he ended up in juvenile.

And then somehow an alive relative resurfaces, a sister of Karla living in the Gotham, Harleen Quinzel. Mind you that she isn't Harley Quinn yet, even though she already works with Joker and other mentally unstable villains as an Arkham therapist, and while she's single, she can afford take a good care of a child. She didn't have a chance to meet him in person yet before all of that happened, but they were both aware of each other, and even talked like once over video call, mostly because Harleen's nephew John was showing her some moves and Dick also wanted to show off with his cousin who he loved dearly, so yes, they were practically strangers. She was to come to their performance, but got caught up in an Arkham escape attempt.

And yet she was his relative, even though they didn't share any blood, so she took him in. Aunt-in-law and all that.

And then the Joker and Harley era came, and while Harleen really tried to make sure Dick stays out of it, he was searching for ways to avenge his parents. So it all turned into a big mess. Tim followed what was going on, he learned that the kid everyone called Pierrot, after he got caught on camera doing a trick no even much of adult athletes could do, was Dick Grayson, and well, he didn't kill, but he acted as a decoy more than once, he taunted police, other goons, Batman and Wraith, while at the same time leading children away from the craziness and harm's way. Also he was as likely to help bad guys as he (though everybody thought Pierrot was a girl, and more than that, Harley and Joker's daughter) was likely to help good guys.

Was as likely to take victims to safety as to danger. Show vigilante and police a way to ruin Joker's plans as to lead them into traps. Do what he was told to do by Harley and Joker as to do exactly opposite.

He covered his face with two-sided black and white mask, one part was smiling. Some said that it could be understood what he was going to do by the way he tilted his head, but so far it wasn't ever accurate.

And then Harley and Joker got caught and put to Arkham. At that point Tim tipped Batman on who the kid possibly was, and he told that to Jim, because having a tiny child running errands for super-vilains wasn't really sitting with any of them well.

So Batman was let to talk to Harley.

"Where is your nephew-in-law, Richard Grayson?" Batman said. Harley looked a bit out of it, but then smiled.

"He's in the walls." But then Harley surprised everyone when she grabbed Batman, he was expecting her to steal something from him, but he still let her do so. "There is a Talon after him, Bats, don't let him take little guy away."

First thought they got was that they killed a child and put him literally inside some wall, but then some records showed Pierrot from time to time coming to Harley, and that was how they caught him. And the phrase about Talon sort of made sense, as there was a figure in black following the kid.

Tim was the one to actually follow and find Dick. Mostly because Dick remembered him from circus and became curious why Tim was jumping on roofs without funny costume.

So ye, here we have this brainrot

[yjcorefourenjoyer]

headcanon that Robin Tim used to have a spray bottle that he would use against Bruce when he’s been awake for too long but it’s actually just sleeping gas.

no matter how hard Bruce tries to avoid it Tim always managed to find a way to get him right in the face, which is probably a pretty big sign that he needs sleep if he was lacking so bad

YES!

Can I adopt this headcanon? Can I? This amazing headcanon? I need it in my life? Can this forever be true? Please?

Omg the fact that Bruce can never dodge it bc of sleep deprivation is awesome. My bet is that Tim does this to other batfam members but Bruce is the only one who knows that it’s sleeping gas, everyone else thought it was like, water to wake them up but just ended up making them fall asleep.

or or or! Nobody knows, but Bruce is the only one who’s seen Tim do it, and thinks it’s something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THEN WHAT IT IS. He like, thinks it’s poison or something

anyways that is an awesome headcanon and if you have more please tell me!

[diluc33rpm]

the romance/relationship system in bg3 is genuinely some of the worst designed shit i've ever seen in any game with that feature but at least the memes we get out of it are funny. once saw someone comment something along the lines of 'patch note: waving at gale will no longer cause him to buy a house for the two of you to retire in' and i've never recovered since

[yeonban]

★ - for Aha & Akivili!

Send me a ★ and I’ll bold what applies to your muse.

I like you / I hate you / I dislike you/ I love you / You are family / I would take a bullet for you / I would shoot you / I would lie to your face / I would say something cruel to you on purpose / I would say something cruel to you accidentally / I would cheat on you / I would physically hurt you / You annoy me / You amuse me / I’d laugh at you / I’d laugh with you / I’d manipulate you / You scare me / You confuse me / I wish I knew you better / I trust you / I don’t trust you / You inspire me / I consider you an equal / You are beneath me / You’re better than me / I would trust you with my life / I think you’re mean / I think you’re petty / I think you’re childish / I think you’re smart / I think you’re stupid / I think you’re a bad person / I think you’re a good person / I’m not sure what kind of person you are / I wish you would listen to me / I want to make you proud / I wish you would notice me / I want to impress you / I would hurt other people for you / I’m not sure how to make you happy / I’m a bad GREAT! influence on you / You deserve better than me / We make a great team / I’d have a one night stand with you / I’d have a relationship with you / I would marry you / I fantasize about our life together / I would trust you with my most treasured belonging / I would tell you my darkest secrets / You disgust me / You intimidate me / I hope I intimidate you / I’d hug you / I’d let you hug me / I’m scared of losing you The world wouldn't be as fun without you in it / I don’t think you like me / I want to be better for you / I respect you / I don’t respect you / You’re my mentor / You’re my friend / You’re my best friend / I have a crush on you / I could easily watch you die / I’d get drunk drink with you / I’d party with you / I’d comfort you / I’d prank you / I’d spike your drink / I’d act behind your back / I’d abandon you / I’d hurt you to get what I want / I would choose my happiness over yours / I would choose your happiness over mine / I despise how much I care for you / I need you / I’m dependent on you / I don’t know what I’d do without you / I’m scared of you leaving me / I’d give my life for you / You frustrate me / I’d call for you in a time of need / I would protect you / I’d visit you in the hospital if you were weakened / I’d carry you if you were hurt / I’d feel guilty if I hurt you / I’d let you be near me when I am vulnerable / I’d ignore a phone call from you / I’d call you at 3am / I’d break you out of jail / I’d get angry at you / I would shout at you / You’re too loud / You’re too quiet / You’re too sensitive / You can’t take a joke / You embarrass me / I feel nothing for you / You’re reckless / You’re bossy / You bore me / I would ask your advice / I would blame you for something I did / I would cry in your arms / You have the power to hurt affect me more than anyone else /

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 2:

Yandere Bully Gives You Rules to Follow

Part 1

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Blake, the school bully who often elicited terrified looks and sent people scurrying to safety, had for some reason claimed you as his.

"You're mine."

That phrase that Blake had growled to you kept replaying in your addled brain over and over.

You didn't exactly know what that meant. However, given your status as the school's resident nerd, you figured that you were meant to be his sole victim for relentless teasing and harassment.

Yet, there you were: Your hand trapped in a deathgrip from none other than Blake.

The rest of the student body cast disbelieving glances towards the two of you, many of them dropping their jaws in shock at the sight of the terrifying bully and the school nerd walking hand-in-hand.

"The fuck are you lookin' at?" Blake spat at some of them, momentarily letting go of your hand as he did so-- only to wrap a possessive, heavy arm around your shoulders.

The terrified glances from the fearful students flickered from Blake to you before diverting altogether.

Your face burned bright hot and the tiny voice in the back of your head told you to run as fast as you could. You totally would've too, had you not been trapped in the hold of the school bully.

You were too busy panicking on the inside to notice when Blake stopped at your locker, did your combo to unlock it, snatched your Pre-Cal textbook out of it (your first class), and led you towards class.

"Wait," you gasped when you finally put two and two together, "how did you know my--?"

"Give me your phone," Blake grunted as soon as the two of you were at your first period class. He stopped right near the door where the rest of the class could easily see you (and quite a few of the nosey ones were gawking), holding out his free hand expectantly.

Oh! This must've been it.

All Blake had really wanted was your phone.

You mentally berated him for being so weird and cryptic if all he'd wanted was a free phone; but you figured that going without a phone for a bit was leagues better than dealing with the school bully twenty-four/seven; hence, you practically thrusted it at the guy.

Blake ignored your eagerness, still keeping one arm secured around you, trapping you tightly against him. You could smell his body spray permeating your senses and the heat from his larger body was overbearing. In fact, thanks to the unwanted proximity, you could clearly see how Blake towered over you and just how muscled he was-- he could easily manhandle you all day if he wanted (and he seemed to REALLY want to lately).

Blake somehow knew your passcode (1-2-3-4) and began to mess around with your phone using his free hand. Seconds later, he handed it back to you.

Before you could ask what was up, Blake quickly leaned down and--

Out of instinct, you jerked back.

Blake frowned and pursed his lips into a thin line. "That's two," he huffed. "I'll be here when class gets out."

"Wh-why?" you couldn't help but ask.

Blake rolled his eyes at you. "So I can walk you to your next class," he grunted, again making it sound like it was obvious. "I'll see you soon, my angel."

With that, Blake gave you a gentle push towards the classroom as he disappeared among the crowd in the hallway.

Throughout class, you struggled to concentrate on the lecture. The whole time, your thoughts kept drifting back to the scary bully who wouldn't leave you alone. Plus, you were hyperaware of the all of the stares from the other students, hearing murmurings involving Blake and you.

Midway through class, your phone vibrated and you glanced at the notifications to see a rather long text from Blake:

My Angel, here's a set of rules that I expect you to follow:

You belong to me and only me

No talking to any other boys

I will drive you to and from school

I will escort you between classes

You will call me every night no later than 9 PM so I can say "Goodnight"

Every weekend you will stay over at my place

I get to hold you whenever I want

You better tell me if someone bothers you or tries to take you away from me so I can have a "chat" with them

I get at least one kiss per day

Tonight I want you to start calling me "Daddy"

Follow these rules and I promise that I will take good care of you.

But disobey these rules and I will punish you. And you're already at two out of three.

See you soon.

Love you.

The blood drained from your face as you read and re-read the text from Blake.

This had to be some sort of sick joke. The school bully had legit just said that he loved you over text. He was lying... right?

Images of his past victims flashing into your mind: black eyes, people getting the crap beat out of them, relentless tormenting, threats of violence and bodily harm-- just hearing the name "Blake" was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Yet, when you really thought about it, Blake never had bullied YOU specifically...

Your phone buzzed again with another notification, this one with an icon that you didn't recognize:

YAN-Tracker: The location tracking app that let's you keep an eye on those most precious to you...

A tracking app?!

That's what Blake had been doing on your phone, downloading some sort of tracking app?

Instinctively, you went to uninstall it, but as soon as you tried, a notification box popped up, requesting a passcode.

You tried to enter in yours, only to be dismayed that it wasn't the correct one.

Your heart raced in your chest as you mulled over all that had happened recently-- all of the signs pointing to a horrifying realization:

Blake, the school bully, wanted you. And he wanted you badly.

Without another word, you quietly got out of your desk (leaving your phone behind), and tip-toed out of class, praying that Blake wouldn't see you making your escape...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

P.S. the following have requested that I tag them in this update as of the posting of this! Thank you very much for reading and I hope you all enjoy this part! @eoryn-shit @paninibit @evan-trand @psychicglitterdetective @springkuinn @vinivave

[adreamfromnevermore]

Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.

No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.

Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.

They're the most infuriating bitches around.

They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.

They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.

You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.

In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

[nyctophicbtch]

Outsiders - Neteyam

[ Neteyam x Metkayina!reader ]

Summary: Despite your uninterests in getting to know the Omatikaya guests, you’d somehow managed to capture the attention of the eldest brother and Neteyam messed up by doing the one thing your brother told him not to. Plus Lo’ak being the captain of the ship.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,033

Just as expected, there were no particular signs of interest your siblings found in you when Omatikayas showed up on the shore, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious upon their arrival.

“She will show up.” You faintly heard Rotxo quietly say to Ao’nung as you approached the commotion.

A glimpse of your father and mother speaking to an Olo'eyktan had you pushing through the crowd to get a better view. You could see your sister already examining the outsiders alongside your brother, being fairly kinder than he was.

“See,” remarked Rotxo as he spotted you making your way over to them.

Their banter over you was not uncommon. It never bothered you and you could care less with what they were whispering about now when you knew they had no ill intentions. Instead, you shifted your attention to the family standing before you and eyed each of them individually.

The littlest one was hiding behind her mother’s leg, the other girl looked exhausted and the younger boy had his eyes glancing at your sister too often to your annoyance.

You glanced at the eldest just as he did too, noticing you for the first time. The corners of his lips curved upwards to form a subtle smile in an attempt to seem friendly, which others might have missed but your brothers didn’t.

It wasn’t the smartest friendly attempt, considering how it only deepened the distaste of your brother into sneers and scowls.

“If he hasn’t already, he’s going to take interest in you,” whispered Ao’nung, though he didn’t seem pleased to know that. “You’re alluring. Stay away.”

“I won’t even do anything!”

“Exactly.”

“Shh,” interrupted Tsireya.

You shot a glare towards your brother in annoyance. He knew you wouldn’t even be interested in seeing them, let alone talking to them, yet somehow he was so sure that they’d approach you on their own

“They won’t even care, Ao’nung.” You had been so busy furiously thinking of arguments against your brother that the call of your name spooked you.

“They will teach you our ways,” your father said, earning immediate complaints from your brother whilst Tsireya obliged and wasted no time in leading the guests.

There was no doubt that your sister could handle them, and your siblings wouldn’t expect you to be interested in teaching them either. And they weren’t wrong. You’d prefer entertaining the kids running around the sand than guiding them.

“Where’s your other sister?” asked Kiri when she noticed your absence.

Neteyam hung back with Lo’ak as their parents busied themselves gazing at the village. The place still felt foreign to them, and even more so when they knew they’d be staying here.

“Doing something else. She’s not used to outsiders.” Tsireya did not stop to reply, the words coming off her tongue as if she had practiced it a thousand times.

Lo’ak raised his brows at the mention of another sister. He was too caught up fuming at Rotxo and Ao’nung to even notice you, but he doubted any of them were used to outsiders either.

“The quiet one.” Neteyam replied to his unspoken question. “The interesting one.”

“Go anywhere near her and we’ll tie you up with your baby tail.”

“Relax, she’s all yours.” Neteyam held his hands up in defense. He didn’t understand why they were getting so defensive over you although he barely even looked your way. Lo’ak was ogling at Tsireya and they didn’t seem too bothered.

Something was off about you, especially when you’d so rarely make yourself visible to any of them for days. He would’ve expected the daughter of the Olo'eyktan to be difficult to miss, especially when they all expected you to help teach them the Metkayina ways. And to be truthful, you just enjoyed doing your own thing that does not involve the outsiders.

“Father’s expecting all of us to join them.” Your annoyance was clearly visible. You weren’t even needed. They could handle this on their own without you, and your father knew that.

“Fine.”

-

You left them alone for two minutes and somehow they were already taunting each other when you came back. Your sister was called to help mother, much to your dismay, and you were putting back the saddles of the ilu.

“Lo’ak,” you heard Neteyam warn as you returned to the group behind Ao’nung, giving some distance.

When Lo’ak approached and flexed his fingers around, you knew what was coming before the punch actually landed on your brother’s face.

“Rotxo, stop!” you yelled, pulling him back by his hand. He shook you off easily, dismissing your warnings.

You looked to Neteyam who sighed, as if he’d witness this too many times. The older brother easily beat up Ao’nung and his friends in Lo’ak’s defense, scolding Lo’ak afterwards.

“Come on,” Ao’nung waited expectantly for you to follow them. He sensed your hesitance and saw the way your eyes roamed back and forth between them and the Omatikayas, and finally decided to leave without you.

“In my defense, you got to show off in front of her,” said Lo’ak groggily, nodding to you.

“Excuse my brother and his unrefined mouth.” Neteyam received a weak punch for that and the tiniest smile from you. He didn’t comprehend why, but Neteyam smiled at your amusement and from then, the annoyance you felt from having to teach them disappeared. Just slightly.

“Do I have to face dad?”

“Yes. Until then keep out of trouble. I mean it Lo’ak.”

It was safe to say Neteyam was impressed that his brother managed to not utter a single provoking word until he had to face their father.

“Hey.” Neteyam spun to the sound of your voice. It was nearly sundown and you were standing outside his room. “Sorry about my brother and his friends. I can still teach you how to control your breathing if you’d like.”

The mindful part of him knew he should go find his brother who hadn’t been visible for a long while, but the selfish part of him allowed his interests to take over. And this time, he allowed something for himself for once. Besides, Lo’ak should stay out of trouble after his last encounter with dad.

“Yeah. Sure.”

You nodded towards the shore and Neteyam jumped off his marui to follow you. It took great effort to avoid bumping into any of the children running around and splashing water.

“The secret to increasing your lungs’ limit is to slow your breathing and allow them to slowly adapt,” you said, pushing him back by the chest with both hands so that he sat down.

“Breathe from here.” You were only showing him parts of his chest and abdomen, but he couldn’t help the increasing pace of his heart as your hands felt around his chest. His eyes locked on your face the entire time in an attempt to focus on what you were saying, but the words that came out from your mouth sounded foreign to his brain.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You frowned. “Slow down.”

Neteyam nodded, but when you felt his heart keep its frantic pace, you sighed and removed your hands from his chest.

“We’ll try this again tomorrow with my sister.”

-

Neteyam did the one thing Ao’nung told him not to do. He found himself coming up with excuses to see you and he was just about subtle enough that even Tuk noticed.

“I just made peace. This time I think you’re going to be the one to mess things up.”

“I’m not doing anything.” They both knew it was a lie and Neteyam was fully aware of that.

“Can you show the way to our marui? They all look the same,” Lo’ak mockingly mimicked the conversation he overheard between you and his brother yesterday. Lo’ak was basking in his enjoyment.

It was something unlikely of Neteyam and something expected of Lo’ak, which made the whole situation even more amusing to the younger brother.

“Ow.” Lo’ak swatted away the hand that hit him in the back of his head.

“You’re being annoying. Stop.”

“Stop being a wuss and make a move. It’s her birthday.” The look Neteyam gave was out of pure disbelief.

“I’m not you who falls in love with every pretty girl you see.”

“I do not do that.”

“Yes you do. Now go annoy someone else. I’m going to see if mom found our gift.” Neteyam pushed the weight of Lo’ak’s arm away from his shoulder, distancing himself before walking the other direction.

“Actually, you already gave her one.” The words from his brother’s mouth caused Neteyam to freeze in place and turn his head to look at him.

“What?”

“You gave her a pretty sea bouquet with a sweet little note.” If he could, Neteyam would tear the smug look off of his brother’s face.

“Kurkung.” Asshole. “What did the note say?”

“You’re going to have to ask her yourself. She actually shows up when you’re around.”

Happy birthday, tanhì

- Neteyam

You somehow doubted that this was actually from Neteyam. He didn’t seem like the type to show romantic gestures to someone he met only a few weeks ago. You were surprised that he was even interested in you at all and it had you flushing like an idiot.

“What’s got you so smiley?” asked Rotxo, snatching the note from your hand before you could reply.

“Hey!”

“That bastard. I thought mom got you that.” Your brother gestured to the bouquet with a glare. You had no idea why your brother and his friends were so against you and Neteyam. It wasn’t like either of you showed any interest in each other. Well, not until now.

“Lay off, Rotxo. It’s her birthday,” you heard Ao’nung’s voice before he entered the marui and stole the note from Rotxo’s hands. Your brother’s hand ruffled your hair in a way he knew you hated. “Happy birthday, hì’i kxetse.”

Happy birthday, small tail.

You shoved his hand away in annoyance, the glare you sent looking more playful than menacing. The pushes turned into fights and a full race to the waters.

“Guys-“ Rotxo never got to finish what he was saying since the two of you were already running through the poor villagers that minded their own business, occasionally bumping into some of them.

Ao’nung was grinning at his expected victory when you tackled him from behind. The rest of the way was filled with tripping, pulling, and your attempts at kicking him away from you.

You were nearly there. Aonung would often beat you most of the time, but on lucky days, you claimed the victory.

“Woah!” Before you could stop yourself, you slammed into Neteyam, knocking the both of you over to the waters.

Water filled your lungs quicker than you could comprehend and it seemed like Neteyam did the same since he was coughing a fit once the two of you resurfaced.

“Sorry,” you mumbled an apology in between coughs.

“Looks like lover boy helped you win, little sis.” Ao’nung appeared from behind you. Your brother did nothing, but you hit him on his forehead - which felt like a weak nudge to him - for his mere existence. “I’m gonna fetch Rotxo. I’m still keeping my eye on you, forest boy.”

Once Ao’nung was out of earshot you were quick to approach him and apologize for your brother’s hostility. “Sorry for him. I liked your gift, though. It was lovely.”

Neteyam knew it wasn’t really his gift, but he couldn’t help but play along. Lo’ak was never going to let this go and he knew it. He was “forever in Lo’ak’s debt”.

“It’s alright. Happy birthday again.”

You smiled at Neteyam, leaning in to put a hand on his jaw and he hoped you couldn’t feel the speed of his heartbeat increasing as you gave a peck to his cheek. It was supposed to be him, yet you were the one whose face flushed and quickly swam away to find your ilu.

Lo’ak just found the entire thing amusing.

He raised a brow suggestively as Neteyam spotted him standing by the shoreline, blowing a kiss his way, which was responded with water splashed to his face.

“You’re welcome.”

kurkung [ˈkuɾ.kuŋ] n. asshole (vulgar)

tanhì [tan.ˈhɪ] n. star, bioluminescent freckle

hì’i [ˈhɪ.ʔi] adj. small, little (in size)

kxetse [ˈk’ɛ.t͡sɛ] n. tail

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad

a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Azriel 

Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.

“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this. 

He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.

She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected. 

“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.” 

Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s. 

“Azriel?” 

The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him. 

“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips. 

“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip. 

“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”

“Like a lover?”

Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out. 

That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic. 

Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else. 

This was somehow worse.

“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.” 

“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together. 

“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.” 

You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?” 

“What?” he choked out. 

“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?” 

“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.” 

You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.” 

Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep. 

Yes, this was much worse than the last time. 

Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you. 

~~

The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. 

Useless. 

A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable. 

There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron. 

And he had told you that he had one. 

That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much? 

Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you. 

You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck. 

“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor. 

“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.” 

He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids. 

“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him. 

You felt his breath at your arm. 

“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed. 

“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.

“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”

“Very little. I’ve been here.” 

“For how long?” 

“You slept for a day and a half.” 

“And you stayed the entire time?” 

“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.” 

You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.” 

“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.” 

He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down. 

“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. 

Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.” 

You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.” 

The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?” 

His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well. 

An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?” 

Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.” 

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.” 

“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.” 

“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.” 

Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.” 

You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.” 

You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better. 

You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead. 

Azriel was so beautiful it hurt. 

“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.

The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly. 

“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 

“Has something happened? Between the two of you?” 

“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—” 

“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“You remember what I said?” 

“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"

The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into. 

“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—” 

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate. 

“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.” 

You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion? 

The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous. 

You shouldn’t have asked. 

~~

“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?” 

“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—” 

“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.” 

Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned. 

“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.” 

“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate. 

You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them. 

“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.” 

Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?

Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head. 

Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive. 

But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.” 

Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?” 

“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.” 

Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.” 

“How much time?” Azriel strained. 

Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.” 

“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.” 

Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.” 

Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned. 

“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone. 

The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered. 

“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed. 

In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else. 

Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion. 

You removed your hand from his. 

Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure. 

“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—” 

“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair. 

“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.” 

And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact. 

A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord. 

If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were. 

But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all. 

[tightjeansjavi]

Tongue Tied

Joel Miller x f!reader

NSFW 🔞

A/N: I came up with this idea at work 😵‍💫 this one specifically is for @chaotic-mystery you’re welcome bby! This can be read as a stand-alone piece or a blurb/one-shot for ‘Burning in a Hopeless Dream’

Summary: a game of spin the bottle ends exactly how you imagine it to; you and Joel, a headboard banging, and tongues tied.

~word count : 4.2k~

Warnings: possessive! joel, jealous! joel, a lil feral and horny! joel, established relationship, swearing, tension, mentions of alcohol, smut, filth, consent, teasing, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap that willy) oral (f receiving) a huge fucking praise kink, nicknames, cock warming, like just a whole lot of filth. Y’all get the warnings. (+18) minors dni !

Songs used:

“Small Talk” by Niall Horan

“Tonight you are Mine” by The Technicolors

“Dirty Love” by Mt. Joy

“Talk” by Hozier

It was Joel’s brilliant idea to throw you a ‘we’re so glad the knife didn’t go too deep!’ Party.

For some context, just two months ago, you were stabbed by one of Robert’s henchmen. You nearly bled out on Joel and Tess’s kitchen table. Joel was at your side the entire time you were recovering and now that you fully healed, what better way to celebrate than with a little dark humor, real fucking booze, and good company.

Tess had brought her friend Bea over and you already had your sneaking suspicion that they were an item already. Or, at the very least, they were 1000% fucking. Joel was a little slow with these sorts of things but you knew in time, he would figure it out. Regardless, you were happy for Tess and your friendship was seemingly coming full circle. Hell had certainly freezed over at that point. You, and Tess? Friends? Who would have ever thought that was even fucking possible. I guess you almost bleeding to death on the kitchen table was enough for her to finally end the quarrel between you two.

“Where in the hell did you manage to find some real fucking whiskey Tess?”

You were sitting across Joel’s lap on the couch. His arm was loosely wrapped around your waist, his fingers lightly holding onto the side of your hip where the soft skin there met your thigh. He always had to be touching you somehow. Being affectionate was something that Joel really never understood, nor cared for, but you changed his view on it. Now? He couldn’t get enough of you, or your skin on his. He was painfully addicted, royally and utterly fucked, because of you.

You felt him lightly tap his fingers against the sliver of skin exposed under your t-shirt as he took a sip from his own glass.

“Would you believe me if I told you those Fedra fucks somehow have their own stash of top-shelf booze?”

You brought the rim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip and you could feel Joel staring at you. Not in a weird, or creepy way. He was admiring you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Makes me hate them just a little bit more than I already do. Seriously though, what did you have to do to get this stuff?”

Tess laughed and took a sip from her own glass as she leaned back against the wall. “A handjob and a real quick one at that. Dude lasted all of 30 seconds. It was pretty pathetic but hey, I wanted to make sure you could taste some of the real fucking stuff for once. You earned it.”

Joel let out a weird noise, covering it with a chuckle over the rim of his glass. He had lightly squeezed your hip.

You weren’t even phased by Tess’s answer in the slightest.

“30 fucking seconds? Now that is honestly really pathetic. I appreciate you putting yourself through that bullshit. This stuff is definitely better than the other crap we’ve been drinking. So thank you again.” You raised your glass in her direction, a small grin on your lips.

Tess mirrored your actions, raising her glass in your direction before taking a sip.

“Just don’t expect me to put myself through that ever again, alright?”

You giggled, leaning back against Joel’s broad chest, shaking your head.

“Oh god, No! I will never expect you to put yourself through that again!”

It was Tess’s idea for everyone to play a friendly game of spin the bottle. As soon as she suggested it, Joel was grumbling about how it was a stupid game for teenagers and that he would not be participating in those kinds of shenanigans.

“Tess. I ain’t playin’ a silly little girls game. That shit is for teenagers. Do I look like a fuckin’ teenager to you?”

“No, but you’re fucking acting like one right now, Texas. Besides, if you get lucky enough, you’ll get to kiss your girl. C’mon, just one round.”

“I ain’t gotta get lucky enough to kiss her. Can kiss her whenever I want.” He gruffly spoke.

You gave him a light jab to his side with your elbow, turning around in his lap and gave him a warning look.

“Keep acting like that and you’re never gonna get to kiss me again cowboy.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you challengingly. His eyebrow quirked up in your direction as he leaned in close enough for you to taste the warm whiskey on his breath.

“You wanna fuckin’ bet on that one sugar?” He went to brush his thumb against your plush, lower lip when you had given his chest a light shove, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Shuddup. You and I both know you’re not gonna win this one, honey. So get up from this fuckin couch and play this game with us. Or, you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

Joel grumbled something under his breath as he stared at you for a minute longer. He was trying to gauge if you were bullshitting him but by the way you stared right back, he knew you were dead serious.

“Fuckin’ gonna get you back for this sweetheart. You’ll see.”

You reached over and gave his cheek a light, affectionate pat, brushing your thumb against the coarse hair on his beard.

“Mhm. I’m sure you will, cowboy.”

Tess and Bea were already sat on the floor across from each other, an old empty beer bottle between them.

“Jesus fuck. You guys just gonna continue to eye fuck eachother or are we gonna play the game? Just one round, and then we’ll get out of your hair so you guys can rip each other's clothes off.” Tess said with a grin.

Your cheeks heated up at the slightest, from Tess’s crudeness, and the warm whiskey flowing through your veins.

You stood up from the couch, turning to look back at your lover, who was staring right back at you.

“C’mon Joel. Don’t make me ask you again.”

When he rolled his eyes in response, you wasted no time to grab his hand, yanking him up from the couch in one swift movement.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ woman. Alright, alright. I’m up.” He begrudgingly took a seat across from you on the worn carpet.

“We all know the rules, right? I mean..they’re fairly simple anyway.”

“Yeah, Tess. Just fuckin’ get on with it already.” Joel grumbled.

Tess turned to you and pushed the bottle in your direction.

“Think you get the first honors of spinning. Only fair after what you went through.”

You held your hand against your chest in mock shock as Tess gave you the first spin.

“Really? Wow, Tess. I think I’m going to document this moment forever.” You jokingly said.

“Oh, shut up. You’re lucky I actually have learned how to tolerate you. Now go on, spin.”

“I’m so loved.” You said with a giggle before grasping the bottle between your fingers, glancing at the three of them before you spun The bottle.

It spinned a few times before slowly coming to a stop. The opened end of the bottle was pointed directly at Tess.

You glanced at Joel for a moment. His brows were furrowed in slightly as he observed where the bottle was pointing. He was unashamedly looking forward to this, and you could tell just by the way he took his time with bringing the rim of his glass to his lips. His eyes were locked on yours, a smirk appearing.

“Well, you gonna kiss her baby doll?”

You could tell Tess was a little hesitant as she looked at you. You on the other hand? You were already scooting towards her. The liquor was giving you a bit of confidence boost as you reached for her face, gently holding her cheeks in your warm palms.

“You good with this?” You asked, while stroking your thumbs against her soft skin gently.

Tess had given you a slight nod of consent before you leaned in, just lightly brushing your lips against hers, your eyes fluttering shut as you pulled her in close. You teased her for a moment before fully pressing your lips against hers.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Tess kissed you back as she reached up, threading her fingers through your hair.

The kiss lasted all of 30 seconds as you bit down on her lower lip, tugging it out with your teeth before gently releasing it.

Tess had given you one last peck before she pulled back, grabbing what was left of her glass and tossed it down her throat.

“Fuck, I see why you like her so much Miller. She’s a damn fuckin good kisser.”

Joel was looking right at you as he spoke, nodding his head.

“Mhm. She damn well is. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas about stealin’ my girl Tess. She’s all mine, and I don’t take kindly to sharin’.”

You were used to Joel’s possessive nature by now. You lived through it. For some reason, hearing him say ‘my girl’ did something to you. You were absolutely counting down the minutes till Tess and Bea would leave so that you could have Joel all to yourself.

A few more rounds were played, much to Joel’s disapproval. You had ended up kissing Tess a couple more times and when you had slid into her lap at one point, Joel had enough. You could tell he was jealous just by the clench of his jaw, the furrow of his brows and the way he clutched the whiskey glass in his fist. You were afraid if he held it any tighter, the glass would surely break.

Whoops.

Tess and Bea got the memo pretty quick and had left after you crawled out her lap, an innocent look stricken across your pretty face.

“Did ya enjoy yourself sweetheart?” Joel was absentmindedly spinning the bottle now, his gaze falling on you.

“Mhm. Best, ‘we’re so glad the knife didn’t go deeper’ party ever.”

“Mmm. Thought so. You really liked kissin’ on Tess like that huh? You gonna save any of that for me?”

You were leaned back on your elbows as you looked over at him, an eyebrow raised in a suggestive manner.

“You jealous or something cowboy? You looked to be enjoying yourself as well. How about you take a final spin? See if you get lucky tonight.”

“Mmm. I ain’t got nothin’ to be jealous about when I know I get you at the end of the night.”

He spun the bottle once and watched it land facing you. You could both feel the air getting thick with tension. The chemistry was absolutely sizzling, sending all the warning signs that it was about to explode.

“Guess you are getting lucky tonight.”

Joel didn’t even have a moment to respond before you were in his lap, straddling his hips. The tension had shattered when he immediately grasped your hips between his rough, calloused palms. He bunched the thin fabric of your t-shirt up so he could finally touch your warm skin, he felt the goosebumps rising already.

“C’mon pretty girl. Kiss me already, please. You gonna make me beg ya?” He drawled.

You loved having Joel beneath you like this and at your mercy. You loved the way he looked up at you with his deep, puppy dog brown eyes. His lips were held in a slight pout as you brushed your thumb across his lower lip, watching as he nibbled on the tip of your finger.

God, submissive Joel was so fucking sexy.

You leaned down, grabbing his face in your hands before you finally kissed him, slotting your lips together as you held control of the situation. You knew it would only for a short moment before he’d take over. He lowly mumbled against your lips, your tongues tangled, teeth clashing.

“How do you want me tonight baby? You want it sweet? Rough? Filthy?”

He slid his hands up the expanse of your back, his fingers splayed out against your skin.

“All of the above, cowboy. I fucking want it all.”

He flipped you over onto your back with ease, yanking you down so you were underneath him. He was gripping your chin between his fingers, while his thumb brushed against your lower lip. Now you were looking up at him, anticipating his next move, while you wrapped your lips around the tip of his thumb, eyelashes fluttering. The sight of you beneath him, looking so needy, so pretty for him, had his cock twitching in his jeans.

“Look at you baby. You look so fuckin pretty for me honey. Fuck. Don’t look at me with those eyes. Y’know what those things do to me? Fuckin’ got me meltin’ like putty.” His Texas accent was thick, warm, deep, and it settled deliciously between your legs. You were aching for him already.

“Joel. Baby, please. C’mon.”

“Shh. I know, pretty girl. Gonna treat you real good, okay? You know I will. I got you, you got me. Now wrap your legs ‘round me. Ain’t gonna fuck you on the floor. Next time, Kay sugar? Want you on the bed.”

Joel didn’t have to ask you twice as you wrapped your thighs around his hips while he lifted you up into his arms with ease, grasping you by the outside of your thighs.

He managed to reattach his lips to yours while he carried you down the hall, using his hip to push open your shared bedroom. You only had a moment to breathe when he had tossed you onto the mattress. Your lips were swollen, and your face flushed as you watched him pull his shirt over his head with one hand.

It easily was one of the sexiest things a man could do. Even more sexy because Joel Miller was your man. Your fellow, your guy.

You let out a soft, heart clenching giggle as he crawled on top of you, peppering your face with warm kisses. His beard lightly scraped at your skin but you didn’t mind. You fucking loved it.

“Fuckin’ damn near lost my mind when you kissed Tess like that. Fuckin’ filthy of you to climb in her lap. What would have happened if I wasn’t in the room? Hmm sweet girl? Bet you woulda kept goin’.”

His kisses moved from your face to your jaw, and down your neck. He was sucking greedily at your tender flesh. His teeth, lips and tongue worked in a steady flow as he left his marks upon you. He loved the way you would grip his hair, and scrape your nails against his scalp. The feeling had his eyes rolling back into his skull.

“Joel..” you whimpered out his name as he continued to mark you up.

“Yeah, baby? Is it too much? Want me to stop?” He mumbled against your skin. His fingers were pushing your shirt back up, exposing more of your skin. His fingertips lightly brushed against your navel.

“Don’t stop, please. I need more. Joel, baby give me more.”

“Needy little thing for me, huh? Don’t want me to take my time with ya? Mmm..I think you can be a little patient, right sweet girl?”

“Touch me or so help me god—“

His fingers were at the waistband of your jeans, he had popped the button open and was now toying with the zipper.

He loved holding you over the edge like this.

“What’re gonna do about it if I don’t give you what you want, honey? C’mon. Be a good girl for me.”

You let out a frustrated huff, a whine slipping past your throat because you were that fucking desperate for his touch. You absolutely craved it.

“Joel, please. Want you, want your fingers, your tongue. Want it all, please. Please just fucking touch me.”

He chuckled while he slowly dragged your zipper down, slipping his fingers between the waistband of your jeans and your panties.

“Mmm. Well, since you said please…”

He brushed his fingers against your clit, watching as your pretty lips fell open and he drank it all in.

“Take your shirt off for me, sugar. Play with your pretty tits while I play with your pussy, Kay? Fuckin’ wet for me already. Absolutely drippin.’ That for me, or Tess?”

“Both.” You deadpanned as you wasted no time to lift your shirt above your head, tossing it to the side.

Joel couldn’t help but lean down and wrap his lips around one of your peaked buds as he sank his teeth against the sensitive skin, causing your body to jolt up slightly.

He had used his free hand, that wasn’t teasing you, to push your jeans down your legs. He yanked them down past your ankles, along with your panties.

All it took was for him to tap your thigh lightly and you were spreading your legs for him as if on command.

Damn him.

“Absolutely fuckin filthy. Look at you baby. Drippin’ for me, and Tess.”

He was teasing your slick folds, watching your face the entire time, with intensity. He watched your mouth go slack when he had slowly slipped in two of his fingers, pumping them slowly. He loved the way your eyes rolled back when he curled them against the soft, spongy texture of your walls.

Your moans filled the small room deliciously. He couldn’t wait to have you screaming so loud, the neighbors and patrolling FEDRA fucks would be able to hear you from outside.

“Feels good, huh baby? I gotta have a taste. Will you let me, sweet girl? Will you let me have a taste of your pretty little pussy?”

You grabbed his face, roughly pulling him down to you by his chin. You kissed him hard, tasting the smooth whiskey on his tongue, knocking the air out of your lungs and his. “Have a taste, cowboy.”

You pulled away from the searing kiss, your fingers still wrapped around his soft curls as you guided his head down, with zero hesitation.

“Fuckin’ don’t have to ask me twice.” He gruffly responded as he dragged his lips down your navel, scooting himself lower, on his knees. He used his free hand to yank you closer to him, holding his hand down against your stomach firmly with his arm wrapped around you, locking you in place.

He wasted no time to press a kiss to your aching cunt, dragging his tongue across your clit as he continued to curl his fingers. The combination was mind-numbing.

He had you moaning his name as if it was a fucking prayer. Each swipe of his tongue, each time he hit that spot that had you seeing stars, your moans would rise an octave. All for him. Your fellow, your guy.

“Sound so fuckin pretty for me baby. So fuckin pretty.” He mumbled against you, his mouth full of your pussy.

“F-f—fuck Joel. I’m—fuck. So good baby. So fuckin good.”

“Don’t come for me yet honey. Not yet, I know, sweet girl. Don’t give in.”

His beard was slightly scraping against your inner thighs, he shook his head back and forth, causing his nose to bump against your aching clit and your thighs to close in around his head. He surely had deep scratches along his scalp from how hard you were digging your nails into him.

“J—Joel! Fuck—stop! Stop! I can’t—baby I can’t hold on much longer!

His tongue was fiercely lapping at you now, your thighs squeezing, trembling around his head. You never thought the overwhelming euphoria would end till he lifting his mouth from you. His beard, and lips were coated in your arousal. His pupils darkened as he looked up at you.

Your other hand was toying with your breasts, pinching the sensitive nubs between your fingers as you panted, catching your breath as you looked down at your lover.

“Can I have a taste, please?” You breathed out.

He slipped his fingers out, they were coated in your arousal as he sat up on his knees, bringing them down to your lips, smearing them with your cum before he slipped them in. He watched as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, dragging your tongue across the ridges, your eyes fiercely locked on his.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me. You like the way you taste baby? You taste so fuckin’ sweet darlin’.”

He slipped his fingers out slowly, replacing them with his lips as he kissed you hard. Slipping his tongue past your lips with ease. There was something so erotic about you and him tasting your cum together.

You hear the sound of his belt clanking, his jeans dragging down his legs as he rid himself of his clothes, tossing them onto the floor with yours.

You were already pulling him in as close as possible when you felt his tip pressing against the side of your thigh, while his other hand was firmly wrapped around the headboard.

“Gonna scream for me darlin.’? Gonna let the neighbors fuckin’ know you’re mine?” He had detached his lips from yours, momentarily. His forehead gently resting against yours as he dragged his tip against your slick folds, letting out a low hiss.

“Loud enough that they’re gonna think I’m getting murdered, cowboy.”

“Mmm. That’s exactly what I fuckin like to hear. You ready baby? I got you, you got me.”

Joel always knew how to get your heart skipping a beat, and the butterflies in your stomach flapping. Even when you were fucking.

“I got you, you got me.” You let out a soft sigh when he slowly pressed into you, you loved the way he filled you up to the brim, each time. He stretched you deliciously. Nothing about Joel Miller was small, and you fucking loved it.

“Fuckin’ hell. So tight for me. So fuckin tight. Goddamn. Don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to being buried inside this pretty pussy. Grippin’ me so well. So good for me baby.” Joel praised you as he sank into your warmth.

His pubic bone was nudging yours. That’s how deep he was enveloped inside you.

Just where he always wanted to be.

“S’okay? Feelin’ good honey?’ He pressed a kiss to your jaw, nipping lightly at your chin as he dipped his head down.

You nodded, glancing down at where your bodies were connected while you brought your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“S’good baby.”

He let out a breath of air as he drew his hips back before thrusting them forward, he repeated this motion a few more times, listening to the sound his hips would make when they smacked against your skin.

You brought your leg around his hip, digging the heel of your foot into his ass, pushing him in deeper as he started to pick up the pace, his jaw going slack as you clenched around him.

The headboard was smacking against the wall, the shitty mattress squeaking beneath the weight of his thrusts.

The room was thick in the stench of sex, and two lovers in the middle of it all.

Joel’s groans entwined with your moans as he rammed into you. His fingers were holding onto your hip so tightly, you surely would have bruises in the morning.

“That’s it baby doll. Takin’ me so fuckin’ good. Always so good for me baby. Fuckin’ can stay buried in you all fuckin’ night. Drunk off this pretty little pussy. Drunk off you darlin’.” His words came out jagged, in between groans as he dipped his head down to capture your lips once more.

Your tongues tied, teeth clashing, senses on overdrive.

This is where you always wanted to be.

His thrusts grew sloppy, uncoordinated as he came close to hitting his high. In the midst of his peaking orgasm, Joel was always attentive to make sure you got there before him. So it came as no surprise when he had released your hip from his harsh grip, and brought his hand down between where your bodies were connected and rubbed his thumb against your clit.

“That’s it, pretty girl. So fuckin close. You gonna cum for me honey? C’mon, I’ve got you. You’re safe. C’mon baby, let go!”

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you came around him, clenching around his thick cock as your thighs quivered, and shook. He came shortly after you, his body shuttering as his orgasm rippled through him. He groaned out your name, his own personal prayer as he came undone, collapsing into your arms in a sweaty heap.

You both laughed as you came to your senses. Your fingers were gently playing with his sweaty hair, his cheek was pressed against your chest, his eyes blissfully closed. He refused to move, even as he went soft inside of you, his cum dripping down your thighs. You both felt safe here in each other's arms.

“That’s the last time you’re gonna say no to playing spin the bottle with me, right?” You whispered, your eyes closed as you rested your chin against the top of his sweat soaked head.

He hummed, bringing his arms around you, holding you close. “Mmm. Never gonna say no to you again baby. Never again.”

He was too tired to move, you were spent as well, so it came natural for him to fall asleep inside of you. Notched together, bodies entwined, right where you both always wanted to be.

[kenntolog]

𝝑𝝔 an: not me posting this after saying that i was unmotivated to write— i still feel that way but i feel so sad for satoru that i just had to do something with it yk? very very angsty something.

“remember when we were young?”

you let out a scoff, shaking your head slowly, “we’re still young.”

“…”

“do you… do you not feel young?” you look at satoru with a confused look, eyes scanning over his soft yet somber expression. his gaze is directed forward, watching his beloved students rest on the grass, some laying down while the others sat peacefully.

sighing a little, satoru then looks down, “do you?”

you open your mouth, determined to answer his question, but find yourself quickly shutting it, the absence of any thoughts and arguments in your mind to support your upcoming statement making you even more confused.

his hand suddenly lands on top of your head, eyes staring you down knowingly, “exactly.”

“well, i certainly don’t feel that old, but i don’t feel young either.” you say after spending some time trying to formulate a coherent sentence. satoru hums in response, gently nudging you to sit down on the bench behind you both.

his legs sprawls before him, unable to properly and comfortably bend, which makes a little smile tug on your lips momentarily before it dissolves into a pondering frown.

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt young, y’know?” you look at your feet, your training weapon resting by their side, and feel satoru’s hand on your head once again, softly guiding it to rest on his shoulder. the barely audible clicking of his glasses tells you that he took them off, an action very typical for when he is giving you his full attention.

his quiet hum urges you to continue, “with the clan always preparing for the worst and all, i just never felt at ease. they never let me, which is kinda sad.”

he sighs sorrowfully in response to your statement, uncharacteristically quiet yet somehow so familiar and warm. maybe it’s his big palm on your shoulder, the comforting smell of his cologne and the feeling of his lips on your hairline, you can’t exactly tell. it feels right, though, so you try not to think about it too much.

you both watch yuuji laughing at something, so hard he’s holding his belly while nobara glares at him from above angrily and megumi just looks back and forth between them with the smallest of smiles.

“what about you, satoru?”

another heavy exhale escapes him, “i sure have.”

but it was taken away from me.

the ending, it’s silent and you don’t expect him to say those words out loud. you nuzzle your face into the soft fabric of his uniform jacket, brows pinching, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to contain the sudden wave of emotions passing through you.

satoru certainly feels that, his hand rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly as looks down at you, longing gaze searching for yours.

“aw, got you all emotional, didn’t i, eh?” he smiles down at you softly, his free hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. the real reason why you’re crying isn’t far from what he said, just the forced playfulness of his tone is making everything a little worse because he forces it for you, to make you feel better. “oh my sweetheart~”

“sorry— i just—”

“you don’t have to say anything. i get it.”

the sadness washes over you once again at his declaration and you swallow down yet another sob.

[jeongharine]

syntax ERROR: the right formula

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, smut

⚝ notes: you and wonwoo decide to take the thing between you on level two. but no one has to know about it. you would rather die than to have someone figure out about your sexual escapades with the local nerdy fuckboy. it is an ego thing. (part i)

(thanks to everyone who read and liked part one, i’ve never received such an amount of likes for something that i posted <3 i hope you will like this part as well, it is a bit longer but i had a little fun in writing some teasing ooof enjoy it, have a good early summer period and stay safe x)

“can you actually believe that, y/n? he ghosted me for i don’t know three weeks, and then he had the nerve to ask for a tit pic,” nabi sighs, taking a sip from her blue-ish drink.

“you know what? i’m so done with men. all of them. we really ar- are you even listening to me?” 

you are caught off guard by the clicking of her fingers in front of your eyes. truth is, you are only half present, the other half of you is scanning the whole floor, trying to see if there’s a certain someone amongst the agglomeration of bodies. 

“yeah, sure, sorry,” you apologize, leaning your side against the wall. “i was somewhere else for a second. you were saying that he ghosted you?”

“i’m never talking to him again. or any man.” “hm,” you hum, crossing your arms. you actaully don’t know who she is trying to convince at this point, because that must’ve been the fifth time you heard your friend giving you that speech (during that semester alone). 

“really, i don’t know why those guys haven’t been thrown out of the campus yet. they’re a hazard, including your brother from what i’ve heard. sorry. but yeah, they’re a threat to public health,”

you shrug, because honestly you don’t care that much about their business. and that is important to keep it low.

“could be worse, though, i could be one of the poor girls getting fucked by one of them in their spare time,” 

oh. 

you giggle, a little nervous. “yeah, yeah,” you agree, looking back at the mass of students. “yeah, that’d be totally awful.” 

“i couldn’t even count on my fingers the amount of girls that had one night stands with one of them, and somehow proceeded in becoming completely whipped and infatuated, only to be told that they don’t ‘fuck the same person twice’. like… what the fuck is that? who do they think they are? sorry that your brother is involved in this discourse, but he’s kind of a prick,”  

you laugh, noticing the tinge of red that covers her cheeks. “you sound really drunk,” 

“i’m not bullshitting you. they’re pricks and that’s on period,” 

she raises her cup in a silent cheer, and took another sip. “i know you’re not involved in the fuckboy thing that plagues this campus and, honestly, you’re better off that way. but trust me when i say that they aren’t worth the headache,” 

with an inattentive nod, you take another peek at the strangers filling the space near you. “i believe you, don’t worry. i know my thing or two,” 

the worst part? you do. 

and the even worse bit? there are two things wrong with what she has just told you. 

number one: yes, they could be kind of jerks sometimes. but they aren’t completely soulless, at least some of them. they are fun to be around, actually, when picked alone and not in group, or when they are not trying to impress someone into sleeping with them.

number two: they fuck the same person twice, if feeling like it. at least wonwoo. and you know that because you’ve been fucking him on and off for the past five months or so. 

when you first met him, you weren’t exactly after a “secret friends with benefits” relationship. you just needed a math tutor. but long story short, you didn’t expect to fall victim to his charms, melting under his tender kisses, moaning his name as he rolled his hips against you, edging your orgasm for longer than you can hold it. and you surely didn’t expect to like it as much as you do. 

truth is: jeon wonwoo is everything, but he isn’t dumb. he knows that he is attractive and smart as hell - he knows that with his voice so silky and deep just saying the right words is enough to have you in bed with him, and he knows how to use the two things very well. 

apart from also corrupting you in games hours.

also, you are human, alright? and there is something extremely tempting about sleeping with your brother best friend, especially when he keeps coming back to you. it’s only nature to want to feel special every once in a while. 

again: it is an ego thing. 

plus no one ever caught you. not nabi or any of your other friends. as far as you are aware, wonwoo’s group doesn’t know a thing either, which makes you appreciate him even more because you don’t know how hoshi could take this.  

so yeah, he isn’t a total douchebag. he has the most basic sense of loyalty. 

x

with a sigh, you push your body away from the wall, fumbling with your purse. you are praying that- oh there he fucking is. 

the moment that you see wonwoo, sitting on the couch across from you, you forget how to breathe for a moment. 

he looks better than you had anticipated: dressed in all black, with his thighs spread across the seat, ready to be fucked right then and there. his dark long hair is parted in the middle, with a few stubborn strands falling over his angelic features, as his gaze navigates around the room, staring at nothing in particular.

next to him, there is another one of his friends, seokmin, talking about something animatedly but wonwoo is paying no attention. 

his expression is one of irritation, you notice, with his thick eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenching. but when his gaze falls on you, however, wonwoo’s perceived annoyance instantly dissipates. 

you watch as his eyes meet your own, then he trails down your body with desire, stopping around the level of your thighs for a bit longer than you have predicted. 

you know that stare awfully well: it is the same one that he gives you when he sees you around campus, or in the pc-bang when you’re winning or when you actually understand the concepts that he’s teaching you. the silent provocation that tells you, and only you, that he really wants to have some alone time right now. 

a tricky smirk sprouts at the corner of his lips, and he leans back against the couch. you follow his movements as he reaches towards his pocket and extracts his phone, staring at you as he does so. he unlocks it, taking a final glance at your expectant features before he starts to type something.

[00:23] wonu: so glad to see that you came  

[00:23] wonu: will you do me a favour and meet me in the bathroom upstairs? second door to the right ;) 

and what can you do when he’s asking it like this? you take the stairs and you wonder, as you open your way through the crowd of sweaty bodies and spilling drinks, if you aren’t trying too hard to rationalize and catastrophize something that is actually very simple. 

a story with a beginning, a middle part, and a satisfying ending: you two want to fuck each other, you do, then you move right forward. no hidden feelings, no strings attached. that’s it. couldn’t get any better than that. 

but maybe, it isn’t everything about that, and you know it. it is also about overhearing the other girls talking as you make your way upstairs, complaining about how ridiculously hot and pretty he is. it is about having that steamy, trembling secret between the two of you. it is about knowing that yeah, wonwoo is crazy hot and smart and funny and you can have that whenever you want.

x

just like the calm before the storm, there is a moment of quietness and stillness between the instant of when you lock the door, and the one when you see him. 

as you turn around, dwelling in his proximity, you think about a million things at the same time: about teasing him for his location choice, or maybe about how he must’ve been going through a drought, if he has to count on his covert booty call to get laid at a party. 

before you can say anything, wonwoo’s lips are on yours, attacking your mouth in a fervorous kiss. you whimper in surprise as he pushes you against the closed bathroom door, his hands circling your waist as he squeezes your body against his. your purse falls on the ground with a muffled sound, but you barely even notice it. 

it is something else, really. tonight, he’s kissing you as if he physically can’t contain himself long enough to do anything else - as if all that he can think of doing is to feel the heavenly contact of your mouth against his, while your fingers pull strands of his hair.

as he invites his tongue inside your mouth, wonwoo groanes and lowers his hands, squeezing your ass like he is about to lose every last ounce of sanity he has left in him. you sigh as he moves his focus onto your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. 

“someone’s excited,” you comment, slightly breathless. the only response you get is another groan, and the rolling of his hips against your inner thigh where you can feel his dick, already semi-hard, pressing. 

“couldn’t even bother to take me somewhere else,” 

“i just needed to have you now. have you seen how hot you are?” his voice comes out muffled against your skin, the reverberations of his timbre propagating directly towards your core. 

“i see you’re starting to get more adventurous with this,” you bite down on your lower lip and he sucks your flesh, groping your ass once again. “parties and nights out used to be so off limits to you.” 

wonwoo chuckles against your neck, moving back towards your mouth. he starts making out with you again, his breath hot and heavy against your face, and you start to think how you could very well pass out seen the level of craving building inside of you. 

“i changed my mind.” he speaks as he leans back. 

you smirk at his attitude. “we’ll end up getting caught,” 

“aw, baby,” he pouts, looking at you with artificial pity. “are you afraid your brother is going to find out?”

okay, he can be kind of a prick sometimes. 

“so i can leave, then?” you raise one eyebrow, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

“you can, the door is right behind you. you know i’m not one to insist,” wonwoo tells you, quickly losing interest in this part of the conversation. “but something tells me you won’t.” 

you don’t even try to respond, because there is nothing to be said: both of you know what you are doing there, and the idea of walking out is just too ridiculous to consider. 

with a suspire, you watch as wonwoo moves his lips down your chest, stopping at the fabric of your blouse. 

“what if someone hears us?” you suddenly remember, heartbeat quickening at the thought. 

“what is it?” he asks as his fingers work on your buttons, exposing more of your chest. the slow pace of his is going to kill you one of these days. 

“you’re worried that people are going to find out about this? about us? when you’re always begging to be fucked in the room next to your brother’s one or when there’s someone at my dorm?” 

you open your mouth to respond but his chuckle, so deep and melodious, catches you off guard. 

“how scandalous, right? you are not the pure little thing you make yourself to be,” wonwoo continues, finally opening your blouse and fully exposing your bra to him. he hums with delight. “red lace? you really want to tease me,” 

you swallow dry as he takes the blouse off your shoulders and gently places it beside the sink, above a towel. he can be so thoughtful and gentle. 

“wonu, i-“ “you’re such a little brat sometimes, you know that?” he interrupts, eyes following his own movements as his hands circle your body, moving to unclasp your bra. and of course he gets it right on the first try. 

“you came all the way up here just to get fucked, and now you’re worried that people are going to know about it,” you stare him down, a smirk already creeping up in the corner of your lips. 

“how does that make me a brat?” 

he smiles. “don’t try to to play the naive card on me,” another agile movement of his fingers and your bra joins your blouse besides the sink. 

wonwoo sighs deeply at your exposed breasts, trying to imprint that sight into the back of his mind. “pretending as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. you can drop the act now, y/n,” “i don’t-“ his mouth attacking you is all that you needed to shut up and let him do what he wants really.

overwhelmed by the sensation, you let out a gasp as his hand squeezes you, playing with you as he moans against your skin. 

“i love it so much,” he hums, moaning at the marvelous sensation of your warm skin against his tongue. you were almost forgetting how much wonwoo aches to play with your tits - not that you are complaining. 

“and i love that it’s all for me,” he breathes out before placing kisses again.

you whimper at the contact, arching your back in a failed attempt to get closer to him. as much as you know he is most likely to just say whatever he thinks would turn you on, wonwoo’s words expand inside your chest, building a heat that seems to suffocate you. even if you know it is bullshit, maybe not all of it, you like to be called his. ego strokes and all of that. 

“wonu…” there is only a thin wooden door separating you two from the outside world, and at the moment you can’t care less if they hear you calling out his name. the guy really does wonders to your anxiety. 

but he also likes to tease you. 

he moves away from your breasts and you almost, almost, cry out in frustration. but wonwoo starts to trace kisses back to your neck, then to your jawline. and you feel like you’re going crazy with all that back and forth.

“i’m not gonna lie, i understand where you’re coming from,” he says. “i like to keep this as a secret too. it’s so hot.” 

you almost forget how to inhale when he aligns his face with yours, placing a peck on your swollen lips. “yeah?” you ask, sounding as if you are in a daydream. 

“yeah,” he agrees, breathless. 

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he’s close to get too worked up.

“it’s so great to know that i have one of the sexiest nerdy girls on campus just for myself…” his hand trails up your thighs, adventuring in the lands beneath your skirt. “and no one knows.”

you bite your lower lip, anticipating the contact of his hand against your core. “what’s so tempting about it?” you ask. 

he smiles. “ah… many things,”

your stare doesn’t vacillate. “i’d like an example,” 

instead of answering you straight away, wonwoo decides to take his sweet time. he leans his head to the side and kisses you feverishly, growing satisfied with the the small whimpers and breaths that echoes in between your mouths. his hands are all over you: on your ass, your waist, down your thighs and up your hips, where his eyes can not see. you only have your skirt and your panties on, and it is so frustrating to still feel him fully dressed against you. 

at last, he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours. as he speaks, you feel the tingle of his hands as they move towards the hem of your panties. 

“i like seeing you walk around campus, knowing that you’re sore from the night before,” he speaks slowly, his voice in a low vibration against your mouth. “and i know you don’t tell any of your friends about it. about how i fucked you so good that you almost cried,” 

you hum, closing your eyes. “what else?”

much to your dismay, his hands leave your underwear again, coming out to pull you closer. “when you send me those audios late at night,” he’s breathing out hard then, drowning in those lewd memories. “crying out my name… ” he stops and takes a big breath. “how am i supposed to say no to that? so there i go, out the door, telling your brother that i’m going to the library to study, instead of saying that i’m going to see his crazy hot sister and that i’m going to fuck her…” he hesitates. “and i just get this… adrenaline rush because he and my other friends don’t know it’s you.” 

“and how do you know that i like any of it?” you tease. 

wonwoo snickers at your question. both of you know that it is plastered all over your face, but he can keep up with that little teasing if you want to. 

“two reasons,” he says. “first: you do the same to me, or don’t you?” 

“i don’t recall,” you respond, forging innocence. okay, maybe you do like to play the naive part. 

“oh no? what a terrible memory you have, i see why you do badly in exams when you don’t study with me. now, let me remind you,” he places a strand of your hair behind your ear, his words hitting your skin in heated, libidinous waves. wonwoo is so close that you can count his eyelashes if you want to, his torso squeezed so tight against yours that you wonder how you even manage to breathe in this position. 

“it was just last week, babe. you called me to your flat after your roommate had left,” one of his hands goes back to play with the hem of your underwear, fingertips feeling like sparks against your skin. 

“you got so horny with just the thought of having me, isn’t that right?” much to your surprise, your voice comes out a lot more steady than you have expected. “don’t flatter yourself, you don’t know that.”

wonwoo laughs, placing his warm, swollen lips against the skin of your neck. “i don’t,” he agrees, digits pressing against your clothed area. 

you know he feels how wet your panties have become, so there’s no reason to keep that up. regardless, you kind of like it. 

“but i do remember how much you wanted me that night. how many times did i fuck you that night? and you just had to keep quiet, because your neighbours could have been catching something. that was so cute,” 

you sigh, your insides in knots over the tension you are sustaining. you hate him sometimes. hate how good he is. “i wasn’t counting.” 

“i know,” he swiftly pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side. 

“and this right here, this is the second reason. look at this,” his digits move, teasing you and you have to suppress a moan. “you’re always ready. i love that. you’re so good to me.” 

god, you are so close to lose it.

“so quiet all of a sudden,” his nose delicately trails up your neck, his mouth meeting the angle of your jaw in open kisses. in an attempt to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging through his t-shirt. you can still feel wonwoo’s fingers playing. you hate him. or not. you don’t know. 

“i know i leave you speechless, sometimes, but i wan to hear you too,” 

strong and steady, his other hand meets the curvature of your waist, pressing your body against his.

“nothing? y/n, you’re especially irresistible tonight,” his eyes are somewhat dazed, unfocused and hooded. he appears as if he’s two seconds away from fucking you raw against the wall, and you seriously wouldn’t mind at this point. 

“you know why i called you here?” “because you want to fuck me,” you respond without missing a beat. 

“i do, of course,” he places his forehead against yours, and you whimper. 

“and the best part is that no one will even know it,” he continues. against your best judgement, your knees are getting weaker by the minute, the knot in your abdomen about to untie.

“just you and i. just the two of us will know how much you begged.” 

“wonu,” you call out, hands tangling themselves in the roots of his silky hair. you whisper out his name again, your voice coming out in such a promiscuous tone. 

god, wonwoo loves hearing the effect he has on you. 

x

maybe jeon wonwoo does also have a golden dick. 

above you, he smirks at the sensation of your mouth around his thumb, his other hand coming to place small caresses on your hair. after he removes his thumb from your mouth, you get back to your feet. it swiftly crosses your mind that your legs might give out eventually but, thankfully, they seem a bit more firm than what you have anticipated. 

“better?” you ask. 

“perfect.” wonwoo kisses you, sighing against your mouth. he pulls away gradually, his body still moving a bit slow.

“you always are.” 

“aw, how nice of you,” you smile at his compliment, walking towards your pile of clothes. “always with the compliments.” 

he hums in agreement, watching your naked body - your fingers holding that red bra he adores so much. “do we have any lesson programmed this week?” 

an incredulous laugh ruptures your lips as you clasp your bra behind your back. 

“we just had sex, and you’re already thinking about studying time?” 

he shruggs. “i like to have a schedule,” 

“i don’t actually remember, but we can game at mine wednesday,” your skirt moves up your legs, all the way up to your waistline. from the corner of your eyes, you can see wonwoo fumbling with his own jeans, which he now curses for being inside out. 

“can you pass me some toilet paper?” you ask him, eager to clean the mess between your legs. there’s no way you are going to put your panties back on, even if the thought of going commando isn’t exactly the most welcoming either. 

wonwoo is sitting on the toilet lid, putting his jeans back, and simply nods in agreement before doing so. “i’d like to know, though,” he insists.

you smile, taking a cheeky glance at him. “oh, so you are needy. since when you’re so needy?” 

he groans. “i’m not needy, shut up.” the sound of his zipper closing echoes inside the cubicle. 

“well, you can have this as a memory, if you’d like.” 

you throw your red panties at him, watching as his face grows interested at the piece of cloth in his hands. wonwoo sighs, tugging his t-shirt back inside his pants. 

“you’re killing me,” he complains. “good.” you smile, turning back at him. “how do i look? presentable?” 

he examins you for an instant, taking in the details of your form. “it doesn’t look like you just got fucked, if that’s what you’re asking,” 

“great!” you swirl around, “have a nice night, wonu. and don’t get too excited with the panties,” 

wonwoo gets up and walks closer to you, your underwear safely guarded in his hands. you are positive he’s going to have fun with it later. “you’re going home already?” he asks. 

“yeah, you did a good job at making me tired,” the clicking of the lock is a pleasant reminder that no one tried to open the door during your alone time.

wonwoo chuckles, leaning closer to you and he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“good night, then. thanks for the panties,” you laugh. “you’re welcome.” 

x

the building is glowing in the most diverse colours from the outside, and the sound of the music is like a distant pulse.

you watch, heart clenching inside of your chest, as wonwoo steps out of the front door with hoshi and seokmin - his head hanging low and a smile at the corner of his lips. 

there is a volume in his front pocket, where you are sure he has tugged in your panties.

“i think that we should go home and sleep. but let’s keep this conversation on hold,” wonwoo cuts off the conversation. seokim, however, isn’t satisfied. 

“you know that i’ll find out eventually,” he says, trying not to trip while walking. 

“i always do. and hoshi knows it well.” 

hoshi laughs, meeting wonwoo’s eyes. on the other side of the street, you and nabi take the opposite direction, having wonwoo to turn his head quickly at you. 

“wonu-yah, i think you should give those lacy panties hanging off your pocket back to my sister tomorrow,”

“what-” “oh fuck!” a tomato red face wonwoo grabs them, while seokim trips and nearly cries out loud in the middle of the street.

[tender-rosiey]

Hello. Can I ask imagine (or headcannons, if it would be more convenient for you) for Mori Ogai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol (separately) and their fem!s/o? Their child is jealous of his mother (s/o) to his father and tries to take all the attention of his mother to himself. Please.

“PAPA GET AWAY FROM MAMA!”

— your child being jealous of dazai, fyodor, chuuya, nikolai and kunikida

a/n: I do hope that this is what you wanted and that you like it <;33

DAZAI OSAMU:

dazai never thought he would be bestowed the blessing or the bliss of having a family, but here he is. he has you wrapped in his arms and he is certain that nothing could feel better than this.

however, it is eerily quiet in this household and osamu guesses it’s because the little devil is asleep, the little devil being his son.

his son looks exactly like you, but my god if the kid doesn’t have the same amount of love dazai has for you then dazai doesn’t know what does he have.

the kid never lets him have his time alone with you and for some reason is genuinely upset whenever you and dazai hug or kiss.

that’s why dazai is making the most out of his time today.

he starts pressing kisses to your shoulder, “it’s been a while, right, belladonna?” your fingers find their way through his hair and dazai smiles instantly, “my pretty wife.”

alas, good things don’t last because the both of your are snapped from your sweet moment by the offended and sob-filled screech of your son.

the kid is balling his eyes out at the scene and starts screaming, “GET AWAY FROM MOMMY!”

dazai’s eyes widen; however, before he responds, you push him away and run to your son to coddle him and calm him down.

dazai pouts but lets it go because his son probably needs the hug.

but, what dazai didn’t expect was that his son would grin and stick his tongue out at his dad.

dazai is flabbergasted, but smiles back.

“she was and is my wife before being your mom,” he whispers and winks pointing at the ring on his finger.

your son frowns and simply huffs, assuming that you’re clueless to what the heck is happening while you’re hugging him.

your, petty, husband also believes that this banter would go unnoticed by you so he sticks his tongue out at his son and his son gasps quietly.

well, they’re both equally stupid cause you obviously know, but oh well.

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY:

never in a million years did he imagine that the person who would challenge him in everything would be his own daughter, his way too smart for a 7 year old, daughter.

today, she saw him hugging you from the back while you were cooking and decided that it’s enough time with you for him.

“father,” she calls out and he hums in response.

“that’s enough time with mom; get away,” she says calmly and he doesn’t look at her and instead tightens his hold on you and whispers, “milaya, you look breathtaking, today.”

you shake your head with a smile and a small, rare chuckle escapes fyodor.

“father, please distance yourself from mother,” she says one last time, patience running out.

fyodor looks at her, “and if I don’t, dear?”

she blinks up at him then kicks him in the shins. he staggers, surprising both himself and you. he looks at his daughter with a frown, “how courageous of you, my dear daughter.”

“cry me a river; we agreed that we each get one hour with mom!” and there comes out the you in her. she smiles the moment you pat her head, signaling for her to go wait for you at the couch.

she bolts there and leaves you and your husband to be. fyodor finally stands up and looks at you with a barely visible pout that has increased in appearances since you gave birth to your dear daughter, “y/n.”

“yes, fedya?”

“our daughter kicked me in the shins.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and you didn’t guess she would?”

“of course, I did,” he looks at her, and somehow your husband who often is known for his intelligence seems like some jealous baby, “but I thought she wouldn’t do it in front of you, at least.”

“well, I didn’t see anything,” you sing and he smirks lightly.

“teaming up on me, are you?”

you shrug, “how can I ever?”

“what a cruel wife you are,” he mumbles right beside your ear and you merely roll your eyes.

NAKAHARA CHUUYA:

sometimes, you feel like you’re a rope being tugged between your son and husband. they are both equally possessive and both have quite the tempers and you have to act like the peace keeper most of the time.

today was no different; however, you have decided to simply watch from the sidelines this time.

“dad! I am gonna marry mom! don’t fight me about it!” your son says confidently.

your husband feels a vein pop, “you little— you can’t marry her! she’s already married to me!”

“no she isn’t!”

“yes she is!”

“what’s your proof?” your son says with a smirk that he definitely inherited from his father, but who’s counting.

your husband narrows his eyes at him and huffs and goes to your shared bedroom. your son giggles and runs towards you, “finally! mom, can I have a hug please?”

you open your arms and your son wastes no time jumping into your embrace making you smile and pat his back. you’re kind of surprised that chuuya didn’t fight back as hard today; maybe you guessed today’s outcome wrong—

you’re quickly proven to have indeed guessed it right as your chuuya appears in all his glory holding your wedding photo, the marriage certificate, and proudly showing off his ring.

your son’s eyes widen, “what is this?”

“the proof that me and y/n are married,” he replied smugly and you sigh.

“w-well, she doesn’t have the same ring as yours!” your son stammers and your husband simply smirks and points at your left hand.

you’ve never heard your son screech so loudly in all his 6 years of living as his eyes lay on your ring.

he jumps away from you, clutching his heart, “mom, what is the meaning of this?!”

“of what exactly?”

“YOU’RE MARRIED TO DAD??” he gasps and you chuckle lightly because if you were to roll your eyes then this house will be turned into ruins.

“honey, I had to marry dad so we can have you,” you smile and chuuya looks as offended as your son.

“HAD TO??”

you side-eye him and he quickly zips his mouth shut and looks away but not without grumbling a couple of curses.

“but that means that I can’t marry you cause you’re already married,” your son says defeatedly as he sits on the floor.

“EXACTLY SO LET US BE!” your husband shouts confidently.

tears well up in your son’s eyes and he bursts into a wail that has your house flooding in a couple of seconds.

you simply look at chuuya, “way to go my dear husband.”

KUNIKIDA DOPPO:

most of the time, your daughter was a daddy’s girl. she always listens to him and a grin is automatically plastered on her face once she sees him.

you can never blame her though cause you have the same reaction whenever you see your lovely husband.

your daughter turned out to be an exact copy of you and both of you share the insane amount of love you have for kunikida.

but there are times where your daughter just wants time with her mama not her dad.

for example, today, you and kunikida were cuddling in the bed, slowly drifting off to sleep. his arms are wrapped around you as he strokes your hair and you feel him press a kiss to your forehead making you nuzzle into his chest.

you feel him smile and you close your eyes to welcome sleep, but you hear a couple of knocks on the door.

your husband sighs softly before sitting up and putting his glasses on, “come in, d/n.”

she slowly opens the door and peaks in, “sorry pa.”

he adjusts his glasses and shakes his head with a smile, “it’s okay; did you have a nightmare?”

she nods softly and perks up at her dad patting the bed. she walks to you two and climbs up the bed, which is quite the travail for her.

most of the time, when she has a nightmare, she squeezes herself between you both to have ‘best of both worlds’ as you say.

so kunikida expects her to sleep between you both like usual, but instead she pushes him away, albeit gently, and sleeps right next you —where he once was— and cuddles close to you.

you pat her head and pull her closer with a smile.

you look up at your husband who had his spot taken from him and giggle at the sight of his small pout.

kunikida watches you guys cuddle and then decides to just lay back down and simply wrap his arms around both of you at the same time. he didn’t train all of that time for nothing.

your daughter whines jokingly, “paaa, I want to be with mom.”

he raises an eyebrow, “is that so?”

she nods and starts squealing and laughing when her father squeezes you guys in a tight hug. both your laughters fill the room and kunikida smiles before saying, “do you not want papa anymore?”

“no no! I want you; please mercy!” she pleads making both you and kunikida chuckle before he finally relaxes his hold and kisses both your and her cheek and the three of you finally succumb to sleep.

NIKOLAI GOGOL:

“quiz time! guess who had his share of y/n today?”

you deadpan, “kolya, I am not a pie.”

“well, you’re certainly as sweet as one,” your husband grins, but both you and your son just gag at the terrible pick up line.

you’ve long got used to his theatrics, after all. your son, though, calls bs on everything his dad does.

“not me,” your son replied with a grin and holds you tighter, sticking his tongue out at nikolai.

“AHAHA! you’re as funny as me, s/n,” nikolai cackles, and you’re sure he is keen on throwing your son off of you any time now.

“but dad, I can’t be funny as you,” your son says dejectedly and nikolai’s eyebrow rises.

“why is that?”

your son smiles, a closed eye smile, before replying, “you’re not funny at all; that’s an insult to me.”

nikolai doesn’t say anything as he pulls your screaming son off you, after quite the struggle.

he walks to the garden and throws him there, “go play with a frog or something; I will have y/n all to myself for the rest of the day. thank you!”

your husband smiles victoriously and is about to throw himself into your embrace until his son reappears right beside you and the boy has a frown that only means one thing.

chaos is about to ensue.

your son starts throwing a tantrum and yelling, “I WANT TO CUDDLE MOM!!”

“no can do, young man,” your husband says shaking his head, “you already got your fair share of mama per the agreement.”

“what agreement?” your son asks, tears still streaming down his face.

your husband puts his hand in his coat and gets out a contract.

the contract reads that your son will only have 2 hours of your attention and time while your husband gets the rest.

“b-but these types of papers need to have signatures of both sides!”

your husband giggles, “your signature is right here, my dear son.”

your son gasps but quickly composed himself.

“oh whatever shall you do now? I rightfully deserve all of y/n’s time—AHHHHH WHAT THE HELL?!”

you come back —after leaving to get yourself a cup of coffee cause this is way too much for you— and find that your son has effectively set the contract on fire.

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do not copy or plagiarize or i will cough in your face

[ellecdc]

Ooooo Mother, i'll do one better!!

What about the boys (established relationship) being needy over reader?? Like something she does or says or wears.

ooooooooof good one babes

okay, mature content ahead: viewer discretion is advised

James:

you come down the stairs to the Gryffindor party looking like that

certified simp, there would be no question what was going through his mind when he get's needy like this

glassy eyes just ogling you

following you around like a lost puppy - his friends would joke that you had him on some invisible leash

probably has a hand on you at all times

I see him getting a little whiny: "can we go now?" "the party's almost over, right?" "they won't miss us for a few minutes?"

whatever ends up happening afterwards is rushed and frantic - it's very obvious how absolutely desperate he was for you

Sirius:

you come down the stairs to the Gryffindor party looking like that

I don't think he lets you make a full round of the party before he's pulling you up to his dorm and locking the door

"Siri! I was talking to Emmeline!"

He'd scoff at you as he started shedding his clothes. "You come down stairs looking like that and expect me not to want to jump your bones immediately? Fuck, look at you; who even gave you permission to look this good, huh?"

idk about you but that sentence alone would have me in a puddle

ravishes you - you both look like a right mess afterwards

he takes about 30 seconds to revert back to his dishevelled rockstar appearance (which is so unfair because it took you a little longer to get ready tonight)

he dutifully helps you get redressed - the whole nine yards. Hair, makeup, outfit; though he makes sure some of the marks he's decorated your skin with are visible... "they compliment the ensemble, doll face"

Remus:

you come down the stairs to the Gryffindor party looking like that

he's got a good pokerface, but there'd be signs

he'd be a little quieter during conversations - most of his attention placed on you, one of his hands would be near his mouth as he played with his lips (like a nervous tick, almost like he really wants a cigarette right now)

but this man's M.O.? Get you feeling just as needy as he is

he would ask you to dance - and it'd be sinful: your back pressed up against his front as your hips sways in sync to the beat

his hands would be all over you: running up and down your thighs, slipping under the skirt of your dress, arms wrapping around your middle, gentle kisses pressed to your ears and neck

he'd have you so wound up and when you finally turn in his lap to ask him if he wanted to go upstairs, he'd smile at you and say "great idea, dove. I don't think they'll miss us for a little while."

get's exactly what he wanted and somehow it had been your idea

Regulus:

you come down the stairs to the Slytherin party looking like that

I think it would piss him off a little bit, quite frankly - how dare you come down stairs looking that good and acting like you weren't knocking the wind out of Regulus? (and likely every other partygoer there)

I think because he's feeling slightly jealous/a little peeved at you, he'd keep his distance at the party; but you would feel his eyes on you all night

his predatory gaze watching you as you navigate the party, sending threatening glares at anyone getting too close or was looking for too long

finally as the party is dying down, you're halfway through a conversation with Dorcas when you feel a looming presence behind you

"We're leaving." He says simply, taking your elbow and ushering you towards the dorm rooms.

you try to scold him for interrupting your conversation and rudely dragging you away from the party

he narrows his eyes and looks you up and down: "you don't get to show up to the party looking like sex on a stick and then berate me for finally getting you alone"

you smirk at him. "if you wanted me alone so bad, all you had to do was ask"

"Well, here I am." "I'm all yours, reg"

Barty:

you come down the stairs to the Slytherin party looking like that

your foot has barely hit the last step before you're hastily thrown over Barty's shoulder and he's running to his dorm room

"But Barty! The party!"

"Fuck the party! There are more important things to do."

you guys never make it back to the party - a shame too, you really liked that dress....the one that was since ripped off of your body and sat in a pile on the floor

"Don't worry treasure, I'll buy you 40 more of those dresses; though I can't promise they won't end up in the same state"