#except one but she doesn’t like marvel

[cecenyss]

The best OCs fics can stand alone. When canon is nothing more than context for them, and their character has their own, individual story to tell.

This is always made easier in fandoms like the mcu or the arrowverse, which has a series of villains that are introduced and then defeated, usually within a single short show, season, or movie, and much more difficult with fandoms such as my hero academia, which has a singular “big bad” or “evil” organization of some sort that the main characters work together to overcome within the entirety of the franchise. The singular goal shared by all characters makes it more difficult for OCs to branch off and do their own thing with their own separate, personal storyline.

Of course, in something like a wartime setting this is also made easier without the separation of enemies over different installments, because there’s the understanding that this is a universal thing; something affecting millions of people across different countries or areas or wherever this war is taking place.

In stories with wartime settings, it’s also taking place over the course of several years, making it easier for your original character to go off, do their own thing, and then regroup with the main characters for the bit bad fight, usually the opposing force in the aforementioned war.

There’s no real point to me saying this, I just thought it was interesting. Also I just read The Siren by emmagnetised and it’s fantastic. I love OC stories so much and I always think it’s such a shame what a bad reputation they get; the well-written ones are few and far between and it’s a shame, in my opinion.

There’s something about reading an individual’s own story from within a universe you’re already familiar with that’s so spellbinding to me and I love it. Adding new characters and introducing new ideas, altering canon through the eyes of an entirely new person. It’s like reading an entire novel, with all the thrill of getting to know the character it’s about, but you don’t need to trouble yourself with the world or the other characters. Less to keep track of because you already know everybody else and their dynamics; you just need to focus on this person’s.

It’s the same reason I like reading fics which introduce two characters who never got the chance to meet or write out backstories for people who never got their own canon one. Even just novelizing someone’s backstory when you already have most of the disjointed details.

I prefer pre-canon type fics to future ones or fix-it ones, because to me fanfiction is about expanding on the rudimentary details we’re given. World-building in an otherwise unexplored world. Even just tiny details about what it would be like to live in this world is just fascinating to me.

This ended up as a longer ramble than I thought it would. Read more OC fics and write more OC fics I think they’re cool.

(also I am taking OC fic recommendations for the mcu please and thank you)

[daydreamerdrew]

Captain Marvel Adventures (1941) #51

[ventismacchiato]

1O stuck with you — sand in my ass !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

As with most things involving Scaramouche, your day starts off on a disastrous note. The cramped quarters of the dorm building force all ten of you into a chaotic dance as you rush to get ready, dodging elbows and sidestepping misplaced shoes. Unfortunately, you seem to be magnetically drawn to Scaramouche, bumping into him no less than five times before breakfast. The microphones crackle with your manager’s impatient voices, urging everyone to hurry.

“You took that long just to come out looking like that?” Scaramouche’s voice greets you as you finally make it into the kitchen with the rest of the group. He doesn’t exactly wrinkle his nose in disgust, but it’s a very near thing.

You ignore him, your eyes instead raking over the counter filled with neatly stacked plates of pancakes. The scent of fresh fruit wafts up, and you instinctively reach over to grab a fistful of berries.

“Wow, who managed to make all this?” Lumine asks, marveling at the spread before piling an impressive stack onto her plate.

Kazuha, flipping a pancake with a practiced ease, jerks his thumb toward Scaramouche, who’s manning the stove like he's scared Kazuha is about to set it ablaze.

Your hand freezes mid-reach. Without a word, you drop the plate you picked up back onto the counter, your appetite vanishing.

“You are so petty, just eat it, Y/N,” Fischl murmurs, standing behind Scaramouche with an amused look. “Can you add chocolate to mine?”

“What are you, five?” Scaramouche grumbles, but he obliges, grabbing a handful of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over her pancake while simultaneously swatting Venti’s wandering hand away from the stove.

“You’re acting like he’s trying to poison you,” Yoimiya sighs, exasperated, as she takes her own plate and starts to serve herself.

“He probably is,” you mutter, poking at your untouched pancakes with a fork, still skeptical.

Scaramouche, not missing a beat, shoots you a glare. “I will cook bleach into your next meal.”

A loud, resounding "NO" echoes from the intercoms, reminding everyone that Jean, ever vigilant, is monitoring your every move.

Scaramouche, annoyed, looks into the ceiling where he thinks the camera is. “I WILL!” he shouts, voice dripping with defiance.

“Scara, baby, turn around. The camera’s behind you,” Childe says with a laugh.

Scaramouche swivels around, eyes locking onto the correct camera this time. “I WILL!”

“Wow, you sure showed them,” Aether chuckles, drizzling syrup over his and Lumine’s pancakes, clearly enjoying the idiocy.

You, on the other hand, can only sigh, clasping your hands together in mock prayer. “Please, get me out of here,” you whisper, hoping that someone, anyone, is listening.

“No,” Lisa laughs into your ear piece.

Anyone but Lisa.

The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows on the sandy track laid out for the first challenge of this god forsaken fake dating show. The tension between you and Scaramouche was palpable as cameras buzzed around, capturing every strained glance you both sent one another.

“Could you both at least pretend to smile?” Lumine sighs, coming to stand in between you both.

“No,” you both say in unison.

"Alright, contestants!" Yae's voice rang out cheerfully over the loudspeaker as she sat a couple feet away from you all, "Our first challenge is a two-legged race! The winning pair gets to have a private date with a gourmet meal!”

“Now, obviously we want Scaramouche and Yn to win,” Yae admitted with a sigh, “But for this challenge we will actually play it to keep it a little realistic.” Yae claps her hands as she signals to the ropes on the ground.

“All of you can pair up, except for our lovebirds. Tie your ankles together and stand before that line. The course isn’t too long.” 

You glanced at Scaramouche, who was examining the ropes with a bored expression. "Just try not to trip us," you muttered, as Scara fastened the rope around your leg and his.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to win this anyway."

As the race began, it was immediately clear that Scaramouche was dragging his feet, literally and figuratively. He barely lifted his leg, forcing you to stumble and struggle to keep pace. The other pairs surged ahead while you and Scaramouche lurched forward in awkward, jerky movements.

"Can you at least pretend to try?" you hissed, frustration mounting with every step.

Scaramouche smirked. "Why should I? Do you really want to go on a date with me?"

“No, but I don’t want us to look like unathletic idiots on tv,” you huff.

“Don’t worry, you already look unathletic,” Scara adds unhelpfully.

Yae sighs from where she’s sitting as she watches you two barely make it past the starting line. 

"Scara, I know you're good at this!" Yae called out, her voice carrying over the sound of the other contestants' laughter. Lumine and Yoimiya had already crossed the finish line, untying themselves with triumphant grins. 

"Scaramouche, I swear if you don't—" you began, but he cut you off with a weary sigh.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, more to himself than to you. Scaramouche, still grumbling under his breath, wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. With a sudden burst of athleticism, he finally matched your pace, and together, you both stumbled forward with more rhythm than before. You were no match for the other pairs who had long since finished, but at least you weren’t tripping over each other anymore. It was almost too natural, too comfortable, and for a split second, you forgot about the cameras and the show. But then reality crashed back in when he pinched your waist when you started slowing down.

"Finally, almost done," you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on your waist and focusing on not tripping over the sand.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't mess this up," Scaramouche replied, but there was no real bite in his words that time. 

Finally, you both crossed the finish line, far behind everyone else. Yae clapped her hands together, a mischievous smile on her lips. "And our final pair has arrived! Congratulations, you two. You were... spectacularly last."

Scaramouche immediately let go of you, stepping back as if the contact had burned him as he slipped out of the rope binding you two. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics, but before you could respond, Yae continued.

“Of course, for the sake of the show, we’ll just pretend you two got first place. After all, what kind of dating show would this be if the main couple lost that badly? Miya and Lumine, you both can have a gourmet meal too but just off camera.”

“So rigged,” Aether sighs.

“In the other games we’ll play fairly, it’s just for the first episode,” Yae giggles.

The other members were already lounging on the sand, enjoying their downtime as you’d both taken forever to get going. Venti and Fischl had even started a sandcastle, which was somehow more elaborate than anything you’d ever seen. 

Venti waved at you with a playful grin. “You two sure took your time! Must’ve been having too much fun, huh?”

You and Scaramouche simultaneously scoffed at that, and you could hear the others chuckling at your synchronized reaction.

“You guys are stupid,” you huff, kicking sand towards your nearest victim. Poor Childe.

“I agree,” Scara says, but his voice was quieter, almost contemplative. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Then just fuck on camera so we can all go home!”

“Venti, move over. I’m going to kick down your castle.”

“NO WAIT!”

You dig your toes into the sand, letting the cool grains slip between them as you wait outside the kitchens for Scaramouche. The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the beach, and Yae's words about a "romantic walk" still make you want to gag. She had told you the meals would be set up away from everyone else so you both could enjoy a romantic walk towards your date. The last thing you want is to spend more time with Scara pretending to be enamored with each other, especially after the disaster that was the race.

“Aww, look how cute Y/N is, waiting for their date,” Yoimiya teases, a grin spreading across her face as she takes another bite of the crab she and Lumine had won.

“If he doesn’t show up in ten seconds, I’m leaving without him,” you grumble, crossing your arms in frustration.

“No, you won’t!” Lisa’s voice blares from the intercoms, making you jump a little. “Remember, you’re supposed to be in love. Try to act like it!”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, just as Scaramouche finally appears, looking equally as unimpressed. “You ready?” he asks, not bothering to hide the lack of enthusiasm in his voice as he walks ahead without you.

“Not really, but let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing off the wall and starting down the path that Yae had indicated earlier as you catch up with him.

The walk is awkward, to say the least. Neither of you says a word, and the only sounds are the gentle waves crashing on the shore and the distant laughter of the other contestants. The romantic atmosphere Yae had tried to create is completely lost on you both.

Finally, you reach the small table set up near the water’s edge, lit by a couple of lanterns. The meal is already laid out—lobster, of all things, with sides that look way too fancy for a beach dinner. You sit down across from each other, the silence continuing to stretch as you both start to pick at the food, trying to figure out how to eat without looking ridiculous.

Then, out of nowhere, your ear pieces crackle to life. Lisa’s voice bursts through, louder than before. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO SOMETHING INTERESTING!”

Scaramouche groans, his fork clattering onto his plate as he rubs his temples. “Do they ever shut up?” he mumbles.

You stifle a laugh at his pain, but it quickly turns into a grumble. “Apparently not.” You take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this whole situation more painful. “So, uh… what are your hobbies?”

Scaramouche stares at you, disbelief written all over his face. “Seriously?”

“What? I’ve never been on a date as an idol before,” you reply, trying not to sound too defensive but miserably failing. 

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, that’s apparent.”

You scowl at him, refusing to let him get under your skin. “You can’t talk. Your last relationship was a total disaster.”

His smirk fades, replaced by his usual look of annoyance. “Ew, let’s not discuss my ex.”

Before you can respond, Lisa’s voice crackles through again, this time more exasperated. “THIS IS KILLING THE MOOD. THE STUDIO IS DRY. BE HOT.”

“What does that even mean?” you mumble, helping yourself to the calamari rings Scara wasn’t touching.

Scaramouche sighs, clearly just as fed up as you are. He reaches across the table, and you blink in surprise, half expecting a slap as he leans forward. 

“Hold still,” he mutters, his fingers brushing against your chin. You feel a light pressure as he wipes something from the corner of your mouth. Before you can react, he brings his thumb to his own lips, licking it off casually.

“Gross, I hate squid,” he complains, pouring himself a drink as if nothing happened.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can practically hear Lisa’s triumphant yell through the earpiece. “YES! LIKE THAT! Finally, some chemistry!”

You stare at Scaramouche, who just shrugs as he forgets about the cup entirely and starts drinking straight from the bottle. He meets your eyes over the rim, as if daring you to say something. You value your life so you keep your mouth shut.

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. But before you can retort, you’re faced with the lobster on your plate. The shell is hard, the claws menacing, and you realize with growing embarrassment that you have no idea how to eat it without making a complete fool of yourself. You were used to instant ramen since none of your members cared to cook back at the dorms. The cameras are still rolling, and since you hadn’t eaten all day out of sheer pettiness, this damn lobster was your last option.

Scaramouche seems to notice your hesitation if the growing smirk on his face is any indication. “You’ve never eaten lobster before, have you?” he asks, his tone surprisingly neutral. That neutrality puts you on edge.

“No,” you admit reluctantly, hating that he now has more ammunition to tease you with. You’re about to push your plate away and accept your fate, considering just chugging the dipping sauces out of spite, when Scaramouche sighs, setting down the bottle.

“You’re hopeless,” he mutters, reaching across the table to pull your plate in front of him. With practiced ease, he cracks open the lobster’s shell, separating the meat and placing it back on your plate.

“There,” he says, sliding the plate back over to you. “Now just eat it. And try not to make a mess, dumbass.”

You’re stunned into silence, watching as he casually goes back to his own meal as if he didn’t just do something unexpectedly considerate. The cameras must be catching every second of this, and you can already imagine the headlines. He was taking this dating show more seriously than you’d thought he would. If the cameras were off he would’ve usually just let you starve.

Lisa’s voice crackles through your earpiece, full of praise. “Wow, that wasn’t emotionally constipated at all!”

You finally manage to pick up your fork, poking at the perfectly prepared lobster on your plate. You’re not sure if you’re more irritated that Scaramouche had to help you or that you’re actually grateful he did. Either way, you grudgingly take a bite, and it’s annoyingly delicious.

“What is it now?” Scara asks, looking from how you keep glancing at him, “Did you forget how to chew, too?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin. “Just… thanks.”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering whether to make a snarky remark, but then just nods as if he decides you aren’t worth the extra words. “Whatever. Just don’t make a habit of needing my help.”

You roll your eyes at his words, but your chest feels uneasy. 

You shake it off as being sick from skipping breakfast. 

[00:00:00] INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Can you state your name for the camera?

SCARAMOUCHE: Why? Everybody knows who I am.

JEAN, EXASPERATED: Just do it, please.

SCARAMOUCHE: [SIGH] Fine. It's Scaramouche, or Kunikuzushi.

JEAN: Thank you. How was your first day on the island?

SCARAMOUCHE: It was ass.

JEAN, LOUDLY: Cut!

[00:13:00] INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

JEAN: I'm going to ask you again. How was your first day on the island?

SCARAMOUCHE: God, it was fine. Is that what you want?

JEAN: Thank y-

SCARAMOUCHE, INTERRUPTING: Actually can we retake that? I sounded too nice. I want all the fans to know I hate Yn—

JEAN: [SIGH] Cut!

[00:00:00] INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Can you state your name for the camera?

YN: YN! Everyone's favorite coke whore!

JEAN: Jesus Christ, cut!

YN, BEFORE THE CAMERA CUTS: What? God forbid I channel my inner Ayesha Erotica!

[00:25:00] INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Please state your name for the camera.

YN: It's YN! Everyone's favorite from Windblume! [WINKS]

JEAN: How was your first day on the island?

YN: It was okay. It's really hot and I got sand in my shorts. Not on purpose, Scaramouche threw sand at me because I looked at him funny. Stupid bitch. Then—

JEAN, TIREDLY: Can someone give me a normal answer for once?

YN: —after that disaster, Venti lost my vape—wait, can I say that on TV? Probably not. Anyways, it was a Lost Mary too, which are expensive!

JEAN: Cut!

YN, STILL TALKING: And after that the rest of the day was okay. I'm trying to treat this like a vacation from being an idol, so.

JEAN: Why did I get a normal answer when the camera turned off? [GROANS]

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

i edited those plushies of scarayn myself do we like ☺️ yn is a grey panda to be gn

comment on the masterlist if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

end of act one 🎬

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i’ve been feeling down and sick so i wasn’t in the mood to write but here you all go, wasn’t it worth the wait! 😊 pls don’t harass me to post fast touch some grass guys 😢

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @kazuhasbabe

[fillinforlater]

Pink Sheets of the Gangbang Queen

Male Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 1759 words

Tags: post-gangbang-unclarity, a fuckton of cum, the biggest creampies you can imagine, sluttiest_woman_ever!Gaeul, riding, reverse cowgirl, mating press, cumming again, surprisingly sweet

TW: nasty, a lot of cum by different people

Credit: @friskyriskywhisky had the idea and wrote most of it, I just expanded it as far as I could. Maybe there will be more Gangbang Queen stuff, but this was basically just a double BFH lol

(A/N: Have fun with this crazy, short piece!)

“I want one more…”

Gaeul lies on her nasty bed, which is not only the size of a New York apartment room but also a lot more comfortable. The fresh evidence of sin is all over the once royal pink bedsheet befitting of a princess, a queen to be more accurate. Her comically large pillow is full of wet fingerprints, there are even hints of Gaeul bending over it because she loves it when men penetrate her from behind and fuck her into the soft thing. The headboard and the walls nearby are all smeared with her own slick and the cum from the dozen of guys who unloaded a week's worth and then some for her, on her, because of her. Who knows how much genetic coding is now dripping down those walls, or the side of her bed or along her thighs.

Either way, Gaeul knows that the pungent creampie of hers only feels this good because at least ten horny men put their spunk deep into her cunt. Be it fat cocks, long ones, small, smelly, oddly shaped—Gaeul takes them all and her insides shape to each accordingly. For the horde of cocks it’s an incredible feeling with a surprising snugness, while Gaeul yearns and shouts (as long as there is no shaft testing her gag reflex) for them to finish quickly and deep. Though a marvelous feeling, she is never satisfied. She needs one more, she doesn’t even care if it’s the tiniest rest or a gigantic, creamy load—all that matters is that he cums inside her.

Gaeul’s once-animated and sex-crazed sexual partners have either left or completely passed out on the floor next to her bed—except lucky you, the only one lying naked next to her. Lucky you, who she now eyes, admiring your features while you're half asleep. She crawls over and gently flips you onto your back, stirring you awake in the process.

In your state of extreme grogginess, you aren't able to tell at first if you're being eaten alive or attacked by a savage animal. Just when your fight or flight response springs into action, a pair of lips press against yours. They instantly calm you down like a mothers embrace after a lucid nightmare. You can't help but smile unconsciously at how gentle it feels. Gaeul’s floral-scented shampoo reassures you who's currently kissing you, her touchy, wet and tender fingers reminding you of the first time she checked out your body…

It was a rainy night in one of the many underground bars in Seoul—the type of bar that makes you raise an eyebrow at first, someone with connections has recommended it, looks suspicious; then you fell into the trap of fun conversations and nice liquor that ultimately led to a selection ceremony. This was the moment you realized why this was not a commonly visited place.

Everyone went silent at her entry. Gaeul, the well-known (at least for most people that regularly visit these exclusive bars) gangbang queen was craving men tonight, many men. She was not picky, in fact, there was only one condition you had to fulfill:

“Three days worth of cum. If you had sex or jerked off during the last three days, you’re out for tonight.”

No one dared to defy her or lie to her. She diligently checked everyone’s balls and was extremely thorough, especially with you, who she gently pushed against a bar stool, hand past your waistband. Your breath hitched, hers too when her slender fingers caressed your balls.

“Tall, horny—and at least ten days of cum.

“I’d love for you to join the after party in my pink bed.”

That’s how Gaeul found you, touched you, lured you in and turned you on, like she does at this moment…

It's been minutes now, with no signs of stopping or letting go from Gaeul, her lips still fully attached to yours just to occasionally back off and peck at it again. The last remnants of a dream that could never match this disappear. They are replaced by memories that slowly creep back and your heart drops. You remember what happened not long ago, right on these pink sheets—don’t lie to yourself, you know it happens every other night.

Those soft lips of hers were satisfying other men not too long ago, fully enveloped around shafts of different shapes and sizes. That tongue of hers glided across the cockhead of multiple partners and made sure that no spot on their balls was left out. She would fill her mouth with as much manly musk and precum as she could before her throat was getting assaulted by who knows how many cocks, endlessly coating the back of it with thick cum and forcing her to gag and cry, which everyone knows is a huge turn on for the gangbang queen.

It’s those lips that form a seal around yours and it’s that mouth you attack lazily with your tongue.

Who are you to complain though? Gaeul is the greatest kisser your lips have ever met. Your obsession with her took control of your life even though you had no chance with her. You're just a nobody when Gaeul is the well-beloved queen. The gangbang queen - for those close enough to be her little circle filled with lust and desire. Yet somehow you saw a chance and took it, even if it means taking sloppy seconds (or thirds? Fifths? Wait, how many guys are here again?).

Your mind snaps back to the present when you feel your cock poking at her entrance. Hang on, did she even—fuck! You shiver in both pleasure and disgust. You're plunged into her sloppy cunt, extremely tight, even after being abused by multiple men (some girthier than the ridiculous sex toys she has in her collection). 

Gaeul’s walls hug your tip first, then slowly adjust to your size, like they have become your personal sexy toy. The pleasure really kicks in when the gangbang queen puts your hands on her hips and adds your name into the mixture of huffs and moans. Her incredibly damp cavern and how slippery her whole crotch is against your own, it displays a reality you don't want to admit: You're fucking Gaeul through the creampie of other men. Using the foreign substance as a sticky wannabe lube as you slowly ramp up your pace, you're thinking with your other head only; that’s not an uncommon occurrence with the gangbang queen around. 

Sex with her has you drunk, dazed, carelessly chasing your own high. You want to be the only one to have your load inside of her cunt. Gaeul yearns for breeding, and the sperm of all the other disgusting men, still unconscious in this room is deemed not enough. At this moment you decide to fuck the creampie out of her and replace it with your own.

You're frantically thrusting in and out of her, she replicates your passion as she rides you. Heaps of old cum get forced out with the assistance of gravity but mainly due to the pump that is your cock and the endless pumping into her cunt. Gaeul switches to a reverse cowgirl position and it's only now that you notice that her ass got absolutely filled as well. 

This should not be a surprise, she is the gangbang queen after all, yet you want to look away. This is exclusively other men's cum leaking out of Gaeul and onto your abs. It feels extremely wrong, fucking filthy and somewhat gross. The eagerness of the girl on your dick makes you forget that though. For a short while, you just admire her back, her small, shapely ass and the way her moans are in perfect harmony with the sound of flesh hitting flesh and cum being squeezed out. 

With your whole cock still buried inside her, bottoming her out, you two clumsily get into a mating press position. Gaeul is the most flexible girl you know, her small frame easily capable of folding and bending into every position you want. This position quickly becomes your favorite, because you don’t have to see her leaking asshole anymore, but you know that she is gaping and the worthless spunk steadily leaves her anal cavity. 

Every time you thrust into her, you see and feel her whole ass and thighs ripple. Shock waves across the smooth, stretched, spotless skin gets sent in all kinds of directions because you dig your hands into it. There's still a disgusting amount of cum defying gravity, defying your forceful pounding into Gaeul, but you are sure that if you just keep on fucking her, and press her whole body into the mattress, the petite gangbang queen will leak out all the rest. Through the lewdest of sounds and a clear lack of stamina, the thought of Gaeul filled with nothing but you pushes you through.

You feel the knot inside you loosen, strings and little last spurts of cum hitting her cervix as your tip is right up against it. Gaeul has her feet right up against your back, her heels pulling you deeper inside her. She's still rutting against you, her clit drawing circles against your crotch enjoying the friction and satisfaction it brings. The art of the orgasm, Gaeul has mastered it. In her scream, you find an infinite sea of bliss. It draws out your orgasm a few more seconds; perfect seconds.

Post-nut clarity kicks in and you try to block out the other people who are regaining consciousness in the room. Witness how ethereal her beauty is under the ceiling light. You want to kiss her. You want to tell her how much you love her. However, the harsh reality kicks in harder than the post-nut clarity as she shifts her gaze away from you and looks at the time. You close your eyes, take a deep breath to cherish just how fucking good her cock-warming cavern is. 

You pull away, unfazed at the mess in front of you at this point. Party time is over and you’re victorious but defeated, a bit deflated even. Why is the girl you’re falling for the wrong type of queen? 

"Hey..." Gaeul reaches out and grabs your forearm and pulls you a little closer to give you one last peck on your cheek. "Drive safely, okay?” Her fingers tiptoe towards your hand until it reaches the back of your it, her thumb gently rubs circles on it. A new level of intimacy that makes your heart stutter. “Message me when you’re back home."

[sanatomis]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ── 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄!

a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

content. female!reader with she/her pronouns, feminine nicknames (princess), established relationship with satoru, slight angst with a happy ending.

notes. nobody was there when i presented my end of the year research-project as a 14 year old, so megumi (age 7), baby, i'm gonna make sure there's someone there for you.

࣪taglist. | series masterlist.

Megumi never really cared about science fairs. To him, they’re just a regular afternoon at school that he’ll have to sit through until he’s finally allowed to go home. He may think of them as unnecessary—as he does not believe in a good reason for parents to come to the school and marvel at their child’s (very much mediocre) creation—but he has never had a strong opinion towards them. They were just. . .there. 

He didn’t pay them much mind, and that exact indifference turned out to be the motive behind the very serious crime of putting a flyer in the bin. 

“Look what I found!” 

There’s a sense of annoyance that bubbles up in his stomach when Satoru puts the invitation to the science fair in front of him. Megumi’s brows furrow, and he purses his lips—leave it to him to find something he doesn’t want to have found. 

“Hm?” You hum, and lean over to look. One of Satoru’s fingers taps impatiently on the flyer, as if it’s saying ‘look, I caught him hiding something!’. Megumi briefly contemplates biting the digit clean off. “Science fair. . .Is this yours, Megumi?”

While reading, you put the bowl of rice back down onto the dinner table, and Tsumiki gingerly grabs it upon return. You mouth the words as you do so, and the boy nearly gags when he watches Satoru’s lovesick gaze at your little quip. It’s so disgustingly sappy, he nearly forgets you asked him a question. Nearly, as it had induced just enough anxiety into him to make him remember. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and pokes a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. 

You stop reading at his confirmation. There’s a sad look in your eye, it forms quickly and is instantly directed at him. Megumi doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s most likely the cause of it. “Why didn’t you tell us?” You ask, and he finds himself at a loss of words. 

Why didn’t he tell you? In all honesty, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. He has never cared about science fairs, nor has he had people who attended them for him. Most times, they are for parents only—so try as she might, Tsumiki was never allowed inside. Megumi eventually stopped bringing them up. He felt a little sorry for all the failed attempts his sister (very lovingly) made. But now. . .well, yes, why didn’t he tell you? 

He doesn’t know the answer to that. 

“Didn’t think of it,” he says eventually, because he knows you’ve been trying to get him to talk more; verbalising his feelings, is what you called it. 

You frown at his answer, and it makes him wonder if he said the wrong thing. A quick glance between you and the man at your side is shared. Megumi thinks that can’t be good. 

“It says it’s for tomorrow evening,” you tell Satoru, and push the flyer over back to his side of the table. “Are you free, then?”

Satoru pauses. He’s not free, Megumi knows he isn’t. Not because Satoru told him so, but because he listened to the phone call he had a few hours ago. It’s bad manners, he knows—he can hear you in his head, and he shouldn’t have done it. But, Satoru talks so loudly, he should simply quiet down if he doesn’t want others to hear. 

“I sure am,” he says then, and Megumi tries to hide the surprise on his face. He’s lying. Liar. Liar. Liar. It’s all that goes through the boy’s head, but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

He does wonder why Satoru lied, but he quickly gets his answer when he sees the happy smile that breaks out on your lips. “That’s great!” You say, and place one of your hands on his. Seemingly delighted, you look at Megumi. “We’ll be there.” 

“It’s nothing special,” Megumi says. His voice is clear this time, as opposed to his previous mumbling. Once again, he hears you in his head. You’re allowed to make noise. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Nonsense,” Satoru chimes. 

You continue his sentence. “We’ll be there.” 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

. . .So, where are you? 

Megumi isn’t too proud to admit that he’s currently desperately looking for the blabbermouth you call your boyfriend. It’s not because he’d rather have him here than you, but his white hair makes for a stark contrast among the crowd. It’s so very easy to find, and yet it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not here, and that, by extension, means you probably aren’t here, either. The realisation hits him harder than he thought it would have. 

For some reason, there’s a deep sadness. He thinks it’s a little silly. Nobody has ever shown up before, and he was fine with that. Being alone isn’t new to him. None of the situation he’s currently in is surprising, and yet Megumi has to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes. Why is he feeling this way? This hasn’t happened before. 

Megumi doesn’t care about science fairs. But, if that were true, then why do all the children and their parents suddenly make the room feel smaller? He swallows. All his classmates are darting around the room, chattering and motioning towards their projects while their parents gawk in feigned awe. As they always did. Except now, he feels something akin to resentment boil from within. His hand balls up into a fist. 

There isn’t a good enough reason for him to feel so disappointed. The position he finds himself in isn’t unfamiliar, and he knows Satoru was initially called-in for a mission somewhere in Ginza. Something came up, that’s all there is to it. Megumi knew better than to get his hopes up, or so he thought. How pitiful.After all this time, he still hasn’t learned.

And suddenly, he’s four years old again, and crawling into the crumpled bed sheets of his father’s ever-so-empty bed. He’s holding onto the fabric as if it’ll slip through his fingers, and stifling his quiet sobs with the pillow that doesn’t carry the same comforting scent any longer. It hasn’t for months now. Megumi keeps hoping that one day, it will. Tsumiki peeks into the room, and he pretends not to notice. He’s four years old, and has no parents, and absolutely no idea why his father left without him. 

Why was he forgotten? 

There is a lump forming in his throat. Its imminent appearance lulled him out of the faded memory, and into the present—the present, where he is, once again, forgotten about. Perhaps that is simply the tale of Megumi Fushiguro. 

“Mom, look! I added the glitter to it just as you said,” a girl speaks from the booth next to him. “What do you think? It’s pretty, right? Do you think it’s pretty?”

Her mother laughs, and pets her head once the girl starts tugging on her arm. “Mhm, it’s beautiful, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

Megumi doesn’t necessarily want to cry. Though, when his eyes water momentarily, there’s very little he can do about it; he feels even more powerless when his bottom lip starts trembling. He once read that blinking rapidly will make one’s tears disappear like snow before the sun, except that article mustn’t have taken the feeling of heartbreak into consideration. It doesn’t matter how much Megumi blinks, the first tear falls down his cheek a few seconds later. 

“Huh? What’s this? You really need to work on your handwriting, Megumi, your name is barely rea. . .” 

A part of him is convinced that the universe has it out for him. There is no other reason for the constant waves of misfortune that strike him. Sniffling, he looks up at the man in front of him—and the worst thought he has ever had surfaces. He is so very happy to see Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing the water staining the boy’s cheeks, but even then Megumi can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Not at this moment. With teary eyes, he blinks up at the tall man that snatched him up from the street like he was some discarded piece of free furniture.

“Where’s. . .” he croaks out, but gets interrupted rather quickly. 

“She’s talking to your teacher,” Satoru says softly. It’s a new tone of voice, one Megumi vaguely remembers as the one he normally reserved for you. This is making him uncomfortable—even a blind person would see that, but Satoru still tries. “Hey, it’s alright, buddy. She’s here.” 

The pat on his head nearly feels awkward. . .No, it does feel awkward. Satoru is petting him as if he were gently pressing a buzzer. It’s not even remotely close to the soft caresses you use when soothing him back to sleep, but it still brings him some strange sense of comfort. Megumi doesn’t swat his hand away. 

“There, there,” Satoru mumbles, and crouches down to his height. It’s a little silly to see such a man all folded up, his legs too long to look normal. “There was an accident a little further down the road. It took us a little longer to get here.”

Megumi lets out a shaky sigh. The petting stops shortly after. It’s quiet for a little while after—even if the room is filled with adults and children alike. Satoru looks at him, and he briefly wonders how you’re able to withstand looking into his eyes for as long as you do sometimes; Megumi thinks the blues will blind him soon. He gulps. For as annoying he might be when speaking, it turns out that Satoru Gojo is much more unnerving when he’s silent—silent, and looking right at you. 

Adorned with white lashes, Satoru’s baby blues pick Megumi apart at the seam. The boy has the brief idea to ask what he is thinking, but then decides against it. 

“Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice startles him. He hadn’t expected him to speak any time soon. 

“Megumi,” he calls out. “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? Megumi doesn’t know for sure. There are a lot of emotions he went through these past twenty minutes, and he isn’t entirely convinced that his brain was able to process them all. But for now—for now, he at least feels okay. 

Megumi nods. It’s all he does, not confident in his ability to verbalise his thoughts at the moment. He sniffs again. He’s okay, things are okay. 

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mumbles, and his eyes dart towards the right side of the room; towards the door. He clears his throat, and one of his fingers carefully makes its way towards Megumi’s cheek. “That’s good. She’s here now, see?”

Megumi visibly perks up, and, while still a little shaken, starts searching for you. As soon as he lifts his head up, there’s a soft brush against his skin. He wavers for a moment, confusion on his face once he realises Satoru brushed some stray tears away. The two look at each other once again. Why did he. . .

“Oh, there you are, lovie,” you say, relief apparent in your voice. It never takes you long to embrace Megumi—you once said he’d be stuck in your arms forever if you had your way. The boy moulds into you, and his anxiety dissipates as soon as your perfume hits his nose; the scent comforting him. “I’m so sorry, there was an accident, and all roads were blocked, and. . .God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.” 

You cup his cheeks in his hands, and Megumi suddenly feels under scrutiny. It’s as if you’re searching for any inkling that your late arrival had caused him unease. It clicks, then, why Satoru did what he did. He’s a buffoon most of the time, but it seems there are some working cells left in his brain—when it concerns you, of course. Megumi is very thankful for him now. Though, he will deny ever feeling so. 

“Alright, princess, let him breathe,” Satoru says, the usual light lilt to his voice has made a return. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you fuss over him. “Don’t you want to show us your project, Megumi?”

The mention of his project catches your attention. “Oh! Yes, will you show us, Gumi?” 

One might think you’re speaking about some grand architecture design rather than a small, barely functioning science project. That is, if they took the look in your eyes as anything to go by. The boy glances between you and Satoru. Megumi then decides that, yes, he would like to show it to you—he always has wanted to show them. 

You weren’t his parents, but you were at his side. And when Megumi looks at the near-giddy excitement showing up on Satoru’s face, and the unconditional support on yours. . .he thinks that may just be enough. 

He nods, and finds his words again. 

“I—I will, yes. Follow me, please.”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

taglist [based off the last fic in the series, let me know if it’s no longer wanted]: @torusdoll @sad-darksoul

[asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3]

I was a fool. An absolute bafoon. Deadpool and Wolverine 2: the musical starts with a montage of their daily life to the soundtrack of Accidentally in Love (from shrek) to WADE falling in love with Logan, not the other way around, because honestly who better than Deadpool? He can girlishly kick his feet and smile sweetly to the camera and (badly) play it off when Logan is actually looking at him. And it’s just them being domestic. Logan cooking, Wade sneaking glances throughout the day, can even have them fighting something together. And of course it ends with them platonically sharing a bed and you can see Wade wanting to reach out to Logan but he doesn’t, just goes to sleep instead.

And one way or another they’re fighting some big bad magical being, and honestly Marvel it doesn’t really matter who you pick. All they need is to be able to use magic and get pissed that 1-Wade can’t die and 2- he never shuts the HELL up. And bam, instant curse. The entire world is a musical and Deadpool has to suffer the consequences (being annoyed by the constant noise of everyone singing)

Except he LOVES it. He walks down the street and hears someone singing about cheating on their spouse, someone singing about how they miss their dog at home, and someone getting increasingly angry about traffic through the open window of their car. And the icing on the cake is that his roommate, THE Hugh Jackman is cursed too. Since y’all wanna make him be the Wolverine until he’s 90 you can at least throw him a bone and let him sing again, it’s what he was made to do. And since Ryan can’t/wont/doesn’t like to sing it gives him the opportunity not to, plus it has comedic effect if he’s bland and boring, making comments through everyone’s songs. Social commentary on people’s rhymes/pitch/beats. The potential is limitless. They should also have multiple people who are just genuinely bad singers, because that’s just how the real world works.

And by the third act Wade has had enough of the singing. “Can everyone shut the fuck up for five minutes PLEASE. Not you, Logan, you have the voice of an angel, please keep going.”

And since Disney owns them now they can have a scene of Logan singing ‘i won’t say I’m in Love’ from Hercules with Ellie, Yukio, and Blind Al as the muses because surprise surprise the main story is Wade trying to undo this Musical curse but the subplot is Wade and Logan both being in love with each other but both being too emotionally constipated and unaware to make a move on each other. And you know what, if the power of hand holding and gay love could save the day last time, maybe it can do it again this time. I’m thinking something cheesy like an off key duet between Wade and Logan that ends in a kiss, but I’ve never been great at endings so I’ll leave it up to Ryan.

And bam @vancityreynolds I’ve got the outline of your new movie right here. I’ll accept payment in the form of one meet and greet with you and Hugh where I can take a picture of you guys holding my Toddler so I can frame it, hang it on the wall, and ask her for the rest of her life how she could possibly not remember something that happened when she was under 2 years old.

[chiyuuchu]

Monoma’s Undeniable Crush <3 (30th July 2024)

Neito Monoma x Reader

Prompt! Monoma Neito mistakes his obvious crush on Class 1-A’s angel as hatred.

Class 1-B was in the midst of their training session when Class 1-A arrived for a joint exercise. Monoma, ever the outspoken rival, couldn’t help but notice the new addition to Class 1-A: Y/N. She was a quiet girl with a serene presence, her gentle smile and ethereal aura catching everyone’s attention.

Monoma scoffed as he watched her. “Who does she think she is, just standing there all serene and perfect? What’s with that angelic demeanor?”

Kendo, sitting next to him, raised an eyebrow. “You seem unusually interested in Y/N.”

“Please,” Monoma retorted, “I just don’t get why she’s so revered. She doesn’t even stand out.”

Y/N had a quirk called Celestial Harmony: She could create glowing, angelic wings that emanate a soothing light, which could heal minor injuries and calm aggressive emotions. During the joint class activity, Monoma watched as she used her quirk to heal a fellow student. The elegant and calming way she used her power irked him further.

“Why is she always so calm and collected?” Monoma grumbled to his friends. “And why does everyone act like she’s some kind of saint?”

His classmates exchanged glances but remained silent, unsure how to address Monoma’s increasingly intense reactions.

One day, Monoma overheard a conversation between two of his classmates discussing Y/N’s quirk and how it had helped them. They marveled at how her presence seemed to bring a sense of peace and comfort.

“She’s just a classmate,” Monoma snapped. “There’s nothing special about her.”

Yet, when he saw Y/N using her quirk to help others, her aura of kindness and the soothing light she emitted began to cut through his façade. He found himself feeling inexplicably annoyed and intrigued at the same time.

During the next joint training exercise, Monoma and Y/N were paired together. Despite his initial reluctance, Monoma found himself observing her closely. As she used her wings to assist their team and soothe the group’s nerves, he was struck by the gentle and genuine nature of her abilities.

“Why do I keep finding myself so irritated by her?” Monoma muttered to himself. “It’s not like I care about her opinion.”

Yet, there was something about her demeanor that unsettled him. He couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced whenever she was near.

Monoma’s frustration reached a peak during a class meeting where everyone discussed their favorite moments from the recent joint exercise. Y/N’s name came up frequently, and Monoma couldn’t contain his irritation.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with her?” he snapped. “She’s not even that impressive.”

Kendo, sensing his frustration, decided to address it directly. “Monoma, you seem really worked up about Y/N. Maybe there’s more to it than you realize.”

Monoma’s face reddened, and he quickly changed the subject, but Kendo’s words lingered in his mind.

Later that day, the tension in Class 1-B was palpable as Monoma and his classmates engaged in a heated discussion. The topic of the day was the recent inter-class competition, and Monoma, ever the competitive spirit, had taken it upon himself to criticize Class 1-A's latest achievements.

“You know,” Monoma began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I really don’t get why Class 1-A is so praised. It’s not like they have anyone impressive there—except for maybe Y/N. I mean, if you really think about it, she's just—”

As Monoma spoke, his eyes briefly met Y/N’s, who was sitting across from him, and he faltered. The words he had intended to use for criticism instead turned into a series of stuttering compliments.

“—Just, really… I mean, she’s always so—so stunning and incredibly talented. It’s so annoying! It’s like, no matter what she does, she just shines, you know? And her kindness—oh, it’s practically unbearable. She’s got this—this aura that makes everyone else look dull by comparison. It’s infuriating how perfect she is!”

Monoma’s face turned a bright shade of red as he realized what had just come out of his mouth. The classroom erupted into laughter, and his classmates exchanged amused glances.

Kaminari snickered, “Nice try, Monoma. You almost made it sound like you’re a fan of hers or something.”

Yaomomo, always quick with a quip, added, “Yeah, I didn’t know you had it in you to compliment anyone, let alone Y/N.”

Monoma’s usual confident demeanor had evaporated, leaving him flustered and unable to form coherent sentences. He fumbled with his words as he tried to recover from the unexpected praise he had just given.

“I—I didn’t mean to—uh, I mean, it’s just that—ugh, forget it!” Monoma stammered, his cheeks flushed.

Y/N, sitting quietly and trying to hide her smile, looked over at Monoma with an amused expression. “Thanks for the compliments, Monoma. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Monoma’s eyes widened in shock, and he struggled to regain his composure. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. I was just—just—”

The class continued to giggle at Monoma’s embarrassment, finding his blunder both amusing and endearing. Monoma sighed in defeat, realizing that his attempt at an insult had backfired spectacularly.

As the laughter died down, Monoma tried to steer the conversation back on track, but the class’s teasing and the memory of his unintended compliment lingered in the air, leaving him red-faced and awkwardly stumbling over his words for the rest of the day.

After weeks of internal struggle, Monoma started to notice his own reactions towards Y/N. He found himself following her around more, involuntarily catching himself watching her from afar. His disdain had turned into a fascination he couldn’t quite understand.

One afternoon, as he sat alone in a quiet corner of the school, he overheard Y/N and some of her friends talking about their recent activities. Her voice was soft, and her words were filled with kindness and genuine interest in others.

“It’s just...why does she make me feel this way?” Monoma pondered aloud. “I thought I hated her, but...”

His feelings of frustration were now replaced by a confusing mix of admiration and something deeper.

It was during a particularly intense training session that Monoma’s emotions reached a boiling point. After a grueling exercise, Y/N approached him to offer encouragement, her warm presence and kind words surprising him.

“Hey, you did well today,” she said softly. “Keep pushing yourself.”

Monoma was taken aback by her unexpected kindness. He found himself unable to respond, caught between his usual bravado and a newfound vulnerability.

“I—! Why you! You need to stop charming people around you and stop walking the earth like you’re a flowery goddess or something!” Before she could even reply he was already bolting away.

Later that day, he confided in Kendo, who listened patiently. “I don’t get it. I used to think I hated her, but now...”

Kendo smiled knowingly. “It sounds like you’ve got a crush on her.”

Monoma’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A crush? On Y/N?”

Kendo nodded. “It happens. Sometimes what we think is hatred is just our way of dealing with feelings we don’t understand.”

Monoma’s feelings for Y/N became increasingly undeniable. He began to appreciate her for who she was, rather than just a rival. His interactions with her became less confrontational and more genuine. He found himself looking forward to their encounters, cherishing the moments they shared.

One day, after a particularly insightful conversation with Y/N, Monoma took a deep breath and admitted to himself that his feelings had evolved beyond mere rivalry.

“Maybe Kendo was right,” he mused. “I think I actually like her. A lot.”

As Monoma’s demeanor towards Y/N softened, his classmates began to notice the change. They observed how he interacted with her with a newfound respect and occasional shyness.

Kendo remarked to the others, “Looks like Monoma finally figured it out. He’s really come around.”

Setsuna added with a chuckle, “It’s kind of sweet, actually. Who would have thought Monoma would end up being so... infatuated?”

The rest of Class 1-B watched with a mix of amusement and approval as Monoma navigated his feelings for Y/N. Despite his initial resentment, it was clear to everyone that he had developed a genuine admiration for her.

And as Monoma continued to grapple with his feelings, he found himself learning more about himself than he ever anticipated—discovering that even the fiercest rivals could find themselves captivated by someone who seemed to challenge their very essence.

The afternoon sun bathed U.A. in a warm glow as students finished their classes for the day. Y/N was chatting with a few friends near the school gates, laughing and enjoying the casual end-of-day banter. Monoma, who had been watching from a distance, suddenly strode up to her with a determined expression on his face.

Without a word, Monoma pulled a bouquet of vibrant, mixed flowers from behind his back. He thrust them into Y/N's arms, their colorful petals spilling out, and then turned on his heel and walked away briskly.

Y/N blinked in surprise, staring at the bouquet in her arms. She looked up to see Monoma walking away, his shoulders tense and his pace hurried. The gesture was so abrupt and unexpected that she couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself.

Her friends looked at her, puzzled and amused. "Uh, did Monoma just give you flowers?" Kaminari asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Seems like it,” Y/N replied, still holding the bouquet, her eyes following Monoma’s retreating figure. “That was…random.”

Uraraka giggled, “Looks like someone’s been feeling a bit more affectionate lately. Maybe he’s trying to make up for something.”

“Or maybe he just wanted to get a reaction out of you,” Sero added with a smirk.

Y/N, still holding the flowers, shrugged. “Either way, it’s a nice surprise.”

As she admired the bouquet, Monoma's friends watched him from a distance. Monoma, now out of sight, leaned against a wall, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. He couldn’t believe he had just done that so impulsively.

“Did you see that?” Kendo asked, her eyes wide. “Monoma actually gave her flowers and walked away like that was completely normal.”

“Yeah,” TetsuTetsu said with a chuckle, “he definitely has a way of making things awkwardly charming.”

As Y/N rejoined her friends, they continued to tease her about the unexpected gesture. The flowers in her arms felt like a sweet reminder of Monoma's unpredictable behavior, and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his peculiar yet endearing way of showing affection.

[five-bi-five-mind]

Sin For Me

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Genre: Smut & Angst

Words: 5.3k+

Summary: Wanda doesn’t like feeling threatened. She also doesn’t like when someone tries to take what’s so clearly hers. Lessons needed to be learned to say the least.

Warnings: toxic!Wanda; strap-on use (r receiving); dom!Wanda; sub!reader; magic strap; rough sex; dub-con; jealous!Wanda; cumstrap; is there a breeding kink? I can't tell... Also kind of a dark fic... when I say toxic!Wanda I mean toxic as fuck.

You were seriously pissing her off and you didn’t even know it. Wanda sat back in a dark corner and watched as you laughed and chatted up some random coworker she didn’t care to learn the name of. It was far too late for you to be out, at least without Wanda by your side. After all, you had no idea Wanda had tracked down the exact bar you’d be at. She has been watching your every move for the last hour now and not once has she seen you check her phone. In fact, she watched as you actively ignored another text she sent you.

She definitely didn’t get enough communication from you tonight. After you got off work, all you sent Wanda was a simple text that read: Getting drinks with some work friends tonight. I won’t be late. Except, to Wanda, that was a blatant lie. It has definitely gotten way too late and when there was no answer to her texts or updates on your whereabouts she decided to track you down. What she found she absolutely did not like and her blood was boiling more the longer she waited and watched.

When she got there she was pretty frustrated with you already. It was rare that you would go out without Wanda and when you did it was never something that occurred after dark. Wanda loved that about you, you were a good girl for her without her even having to tell you. Right now she was regretting never being more firm. She should’ve warned you not to cross her, not give her any reasons for worry or suspicion, not to let others get too close to what was hers. Because, of course, you were hers, and she didn’t like that fact to feel threatened.

Wanda knew that you were aware she could be jealous and possessive. You’ve seen it somewhat before, but never in full force. Wanda had a growing feeling that would change tonight. After all, you were currently over there ignoring your phone and chatting up with two coworkers. And that was fine, it hadn’t pushed Wanda’s frustrations too far over the edge yet. But then when one coworker left and you still stayed, that’s when Wanda’s control started slipping. She didn’t like that you were now alone in a bar with a pretty coworker she didn’t really know. A coworker that was currently making you laugh and smile. A coworker that was also slowly inching closer to you and kept touching your leg and your arm and was just overall way too close. Wanda would never allow someone else to act this way towards you if she was near. You should’ve known better and done the same. Wanda was seething.

She didn’t have much of a plan when she reached the bar you were at. So far all she came up with was what she was doing: sit and watch. Maybe you’d calm the storm brewing inside her by finally rejecting the other girl’s clear advances towards you. While she watched, she wondered if you were even aware of it. Did you know this girl wanted to take you home and fuck you the way only Wanda was allowed to? Wanda could see it in her thoughts, the things she wanted to do to you, to what was hers. Wanda’s hatred towards the girl and her anger towards you were growing by the minute. In her mind, you had long passed the opportunity to tell this girl clearly to back off. Yet, you hadn’t done it yet and her hopes to bed you were only increasing. Wanda’s hands were balled into tight fists and her jaw was clenched as she watched the way the girl looked you up and down. She was already thinking about the ways she could get you naked and Wanda was resisting the urge not to commit murder in such a public space.

What she saw next finally made her snap. She wasn’t sure what the girl said to you, but she definitely didn’t like the way she was leaning in your ear and whispering. With that Wanda shot up, rage pumping through her veins. She stalked towards you with determination and when she stopped right in front of you, she didn’t even give you a second to realize it was her before putting her hands on you.

“Wanda!” You were so surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?“

“You’re leaving,” Wanda said as she hauled you up off the bar stool and to your feet. “Right now.”

“Wanda, what- I was just having drinks with-“

“Do not say another fucking word.” Wanda barked and your mouth immediately snapped shut. You’ve seen Wanda angry, possibly even to this degree, but never was it directed towards you.

The grip she had on your arm was bruising as she pulled you out of the bar. You looked back at your coworker who’s eyes were wide in shock at the scene in front of her. You had a feeling you’d have to do a lot of explaining come Monday. Only, you had no idea what got into Wanda. She had come out of nowhere. You were utterly shocked by her actions. Never did you think she’d just show up at the bar to come drag you home. It wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong. Yes, maybe you should’ve checked your phone. You knew she’d be worried, but you also wanted to save what was left of your battery so you could call for an Uber. You thought you were being smart, safe, and practical even.

Yet, here you were, being towed out of the bar by your fuming girlfriend and practically shoved into her car. The slam of the car door behind you made you jump and when Wanda ripped her own door open, you couldn’t help but cower slightly away from her. If Wanda noticed, she didn’t seem phased by the negative reaction she was causing in you. She could care less if she was scaring you. In fact, maybe it was a good thing that she was. Maybe it’ll help you learn your lesson and not pull a stunt like this again.

Wanda peeled out of her parking spot in record speed. She didn’t really care about how fast she was going or how reckless she was being. All she knew was that she was getting more pissed off by the minute. It definitely seemed like you had absolutely no clue why she was so angry. And, well, you really didn’t. Not until you chanced a look at your phone. You had a couple of messages from your coworker and then, scrolling down, you saw the rest. Ten missed calls, almost as many voicemails, and countless numbers of texts all from Wanda. Some of them started out fine, asking if you were okay, where were you, when were coming home… but then there was a shift. The texts got shorter. They were no longer questions, but demands. Wanda might have been worried at first, but now she was enraged. If the texts didn’t indicate as much, you could swear you literally felt it radiating off her. Had you really been at the bar that long? It was late, but it wasn’t like you and Wanda didn’t stay out late having drinks. This was just the first time you had been out so late with coworkers.

Your mind was really trying to connect the dots on why Wanda was currently racing home, utterly silent, yet still quaking in rage. If it were you, you’d just be worried and maybe slightly angry for no call, but still you’d understand. Would she listen if you said you just wanted to make sure you had a functional phone to call an Uber? You thought maybe she was beyond reason at this point. After all, the way she spoke to you and the way she was currently grinding her teeth as she took every turn way too fast was telling you that you were in for it when you got home. So, as she drove, you just focused on getting to the bottom of this and how to fix it. Was she upset that you were with coworkers? Okay, maybe you could see that it kind of looked a little suspicious. You didn’t know how long Wanda was at the bar, for all you knew she had just gotten there and walked up to you the minute she arrived. Did she know that the night started with a large group of you? The only reason the group dwindled to just two was because you were enjoying having a nice conversation after a stressful week of work. Did Wanda really think something else was happening? Surely not, but it was your only working theory.

The rest of the ride was silent, but suffocating. The air was charged and you swore every time you risked a glance at Wanda you could see red swirl in her eyes. It wasn’t the first time you saw her so mad her control of her magic started to slip, you just never imagined you’d be the cause of it. You gulped, your nails digging into your skin where they were resting on your knees. You wanted out of her car, but at the same time you feared the storm that was coming when you finally got out.

Wanda hit the breaks a little too hard when she finally pulled up to her place. You lurched forward and fell back with a thud as she came to a full stop. “Ouch…” you whined as your head hit the back of the seat. “Wanda, come on. Why are you being like this?” Wanda just scoffed at you before swinging the car door open. You watched with dread as she walked around to your side. When she opened your door, she didn’t even give you a second to try to stand for yourself before she had a grip on your elbow and was yet again dragging you wherever she wanted you to go.

It didn’t help that Wanda was so angry her hands were shaking. So, when she went to unlock the door she was fumbling with her keys and cursing not so quietly as she struggled. You touched her hand gently, stopping her from her fight to open the door. You were surprised when she willingly let you take the keys from her and unlock the door. It was a brief moment of softness before she was pushing you through the threshold and slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

Wanda stood by the lock for a moment, her chest heaving as her rage boiled back up again. It still seemed like you barely had a clue why she was angry. Her hands gripped the door knob as she tried, and failed, to take deep, calming breaths before facing you again. Any time she tried to cool herself down, her mind zeroed in on the image of that woman touching you, touching what was hers, and you doing absolutely nothing to stop her. God, that pissed her off. Didn’t you know? How could you not know? No one could touch you now that Wanda has you. She waited patiently for you to fall for her, for you to see her, for you to know that you were only supposed to want her, and now she takes her eyes off you for one second and it’s as if you forgot all about her. Wanda wondered if you were still totally oblivious to the fact that your little friend wanted to fuck you or if you just got off on the fact that someone else wanted you? If Wanda was being logical for a moment she would know you just genuinely had no clue. It was hard for you to see what was right in front of you sometimes. That’s why Wanda was almost always there to make sure you stayed safe, stayed hers. But tonight, Wanda wasn’t being logical. Tonight Wanda was thinking the worst: That you wanted to fuck her too. That you thought you didn’t want Wanda. That you forgot you were hers. And Wanda just couldn’t have that, now could she?

When Wanda turned around, you were ready to get to the bottom of her anger. Honestly, yes, you were scared of Wanda right now, but you were also getting pretty angry too. Wanda essentially embarrassed you and manhandled you until she got you home and she did all of this in front of someone you had a professional relationship with. Yeah, you were going to have to explain to your coworker what went down Monday, but you were also not sure you’d have the guts to face her and tell her… what? That Wanda was having some sort of jealous tantrum? At least that was still your biggest theory that that’s where some of her rage was coming from. You knew Wanda was the jealous type, but this was a whole new level.

“Wanda, seriously,” You sighed as you put your hands on your hips. “What the hell?”

“You can’t see your friend anymore,” Wanda said in a monotone voice as walked up to you.

“What?” Your eyebrows shot up. “Wanda, I work with her. I’m going to have to see her. Plus you can’t just tell me what to-”

“Yes, I can.” Wanda’s eyes darkened, her voice still eerily level. Yet still, with the way she towered over you, you felt very small and outmatched in this moment. But you weren’t one to easily give up a fight and definitely not one to easily be controlled. You loved Wanda, you did, but this was quickly causing some concerns.

“No, Wanda, you absolutely can’t.” You were trying so hard to stand your ground right now. But as you saw the red swirl in her eyes yet again, you couldn’t stop yourself from shuddering. “She’s my friend too, Wanda. I like spending time with her.”

“I really suggest you stop talking before you make things worse for yourself.” Wanda’s tone was foreboding. Your eyes flicked down to her hands and you noticed that they were balled in such tight fists they shook as she clenched them. You were far beyond poking the beast now. You were encountering it face to face.

“Wanda,” Your voice was a little more unsure this time. It was getting incredibly hard to hide how intimidating she was being. Honestly, it was the fact that she wasn’t currently screaming that made it worse for you. It was her silent anger that somehow was more unsettling. “I’m not going to just stop seeing her.”

That was the wrong thing to say. That was the really really fucking wrong thing to say. You could see it in her eyes, in the way her nostrils flared. How dare you so openly disregard what she was telling you? Wanda couldn’t fathom why you’d want to spend even another second with that woman when she could give you all you wanted and more. It was like you forgot everything she’s done for you, everything she’s made you feel, everything she could give you. Wanda was all you needed, not this random girl. So, why? Why did you insist on testing Wanda’s patience so goddamn much? This behavior needed to end.

In a blink Wanda was in your personal space. Her anger had finally boiled over. She grabbed your chin hard, pulling your head back so she could make sure you were looking her in the eye. She leaned in, her nostrils flaring as she practically fumed with rage. “Do I need to remind you,” she squeezed your jaw in her grip as she spoke, “that I own you?”

“Wanda,” you whimpered. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“But you like it don’t you?” She practically purred as she gave you an unsettling grin. “Don’t pretend that you don’t. God,” she sneared, “I’ve tried, I really have. But you make it so fucking hard, don’t you?” Wanda really did try. She didn’t want you to see this side of her, at least not for a much longer time. But you needed to learn and she needed to be sure you wouldn’t ever think to run off with another person. This was your fault really. At least, that’s what Wanda believed. “How am I supposed to hold back when you purposely push my buttons?”

Your hand flew up to Wanda’s wrist, trying to pry her hand off your chin. She was holding your face in a bruising grip and the look in her eye was nerve wracking. “I didn’t mean to.” You tried your best to keep your voice level, but it cracked as you spoke. With Wanda’s grip on you, all you wanted to do now was calm her down. Who knew how far Wanda would go. “I’m sorry, Wanda, I-“

“It’s a little late for apologies, now isn’t it?” Wanda hissed. She released her grip on you and you rubbed at your jaw where her nails had dug in. Wanda, in the meantime, was pacing back and forth in front of you and all it did was add to your uneasiness at her volatile mood.

“H-How can I make it up to you?” You begged. At this point, honestly, you’d agree to everything she asked if it calmed her down. There was a whisper in the back of your mind that strangely grew louder the minute she released you. A whisper that wasn’t there before, that said she might leave. Suddenly, that whisper ensnared you in a new type of fear. Despite Wanda’s aggression towards you, despite your anger at her treatment, a fear crept up your spine at the thought of losing her. She could so easily find someone else and she was, after all, all you wanted for so long. No, you needed to stop protesting, you needed to make things right. Even if you didn’t believe you were at fault.

Your change in tone did actually please Wanda. A satisfied smirk threatened to break out on Wanda’s face, but she wouldn’t drop her anger yet. You weren’t in the clear, and since you were so willing to make it up to Wanda, make it up you would. For a moment, she almost felt bad for you. Poor thing, you had no idea what was in store.

Wanda walked away wordlessly. Your head turned with her movement as she walked across the room and onto her living room couch. Silently, she sat back on the couch, legs spread. And you watched with wide eyes as she popped the buttons of her pants open. With a flick of her wrist, you stared in shock as a bright red, strap-on appeared, peaking out of where her pants were unbuttoned. “Come here. Ride my cock,” she ordered as she sat back. You looked at it for a moment and then back up at her eyes as she waited for you with an annoyed expression on her face, you were assuming it was because of your hesitation. You couldn’t help it. That thing was big. “Well?” Wanda urged impatiently. You gulped and walked forward. Your hands moved to your own pants and you started to fumble with them as you got closer. Wanda’s impatience only grew and with another brief twirl of her fingers, you were suddenly naked from the waist down.

When you reached the couch your movements faltered. The closer you got the bigger it looked. With each step you took closer to her you were trying to picture in your head if that thing could actually fit inside you. You crawled onto her lap at a snail’s pace, nervous to find out if it really could. Still, though, you wanted to please her. The shift in you, that whisper, was even louder. If you could show her that you could be cooperative, maybe that will ease part of your nerves. Maybe it would be the fix for both of you. She wouldn’t be as angry, you wouldn’t be as insecure. You could show her that you could be good, that you did love her and would listen. In return, maybe she’d ease your mind and show you that you’re not easily replaceable, that she loved you too. She must if she was so angry about you having drinks alone with a friend. Right?

Straddling her waist finally, you put your hands on either of her shoulders to steady yourself. With great caution you lifted yourself up slightly, lining up the toy with your entrance. You took a deep breath and slowly eased yourself down. It wasn’t easy, this was bigger than you’ve taken before and as you slowly slid down you felt the slight burn of your walls being stretched around Wanda’s faux cock. On Wanda’s end it was driving her crazy to watch you do this. Your hesitation and nervousness only spurred her on more. Despite how angry she was, she couldn’t help but appreciate how good you were being for her already. This shift in you definitely didn’t go unnoticed to her. You slid further down on her cock and all Wanda could think was that you just felt so good. She was getting impatient to feel herself all the way inside you though. So, to fix this, without warning, Wanda grabbed your hips and pushed you all the way down.

You immediately grabbed fistfuls of her shirt, crying out as you felt her enter you completely. Wanda couldn’t stop the low moan that fell from her lips as she held you still down on her cock. “Fuck, you’re tight,” she groaned. “Come on, move your hips.”

“It- It’s big, Wanda,” you whined.

“You can take it,” Wanda hissed, her hands on your hips urging you to start grinding down on top of her. “I know you can.” You didn’t think you had much choice. Wanda already seemed drunk on the feeling of your walls squeezing around her cock. This wasn’t the first time Wanda used magic to get off while inside you and you knew she was doing it now. If you were being honest, the way she made your walls stretch, mixed with Wanda’s expressive reactions was turning you on more and soon enough you were starting to bounce on her lap to fuck yourself on her cock. Any residual thoughts of defiance and shame finally leaving your mind as you felt the burn of her cock stretching you out turn into mind blowing pleasure.

At some point, you weren’t sure when, Wanda had taken full control. It was no longer on your own volition that your hips were moving, it was Wanda’s powerful grip on them that had you grinding hard into her cock as she fucked up into you. With the way your hips were moving and how tight you were around her, Wanda’s head fell back, lost in how good it all felt. You were being so good, she thought. Finally, this is exactly what she needed from you. As you practically let her use you as a fucktoy, mindlessly moaning on top of her as she got off, she knew she had you now. There was no way you’d forget who you belonged to when Wanda was fucking her cock up into you, two seconds away from coming and painting your pussy with her cum.

When Wanda forced you to speed up on top of her she couldn’t hold back much more. Her moans were matching yours as they filled the otherwise silent house. Your hands were holding on so tightly to her shoulders as you tried your best to keep up with the pace Wanda was making you set. Your walls were tightening around Wanda so deliciously and she knew you were close to the edge too. Wanda shot up suddenly, one of her arms wrapping around your waist so she could hold you steady while she fucked up into you with a brutal strength you honestly didn’t know she had. It took only a few seconds of this before you felt Wanda finally fall over the edge, filling you up with her warm cum that immediately had you follow behind her.

Your body slumped onto her, your head pressed to her chest as you tried to catch your breath. You could feel the burn in the muscles of your thighs from the way she had fucked you. You felt sore, you felt tired, but Wanda on the other hand was not done. Her chest suddenly swelled with a feeling of pride and possession as she felt a mixture of her cum and yours drip from your entrance and onto her. It was working her up yet again and she decided she wasn’t done with you just yet. After all, she had to thoroughly make sure you knew who you belonged to, didn’t she?

Without warning, without any word, Wanda had swiftly maneuvered you so that your back hit the couch and she was now the one on top of you. Sitting back on her knees for a moment she looked down at you, a hungry look in her eye. She decided she needed to feel all of you, so with a flick of the wrist suddenly the remainder of your clothes, as well as her own, were gone. Then she leaned down, dragging her body across yours as she went. Her knees rested next to both sides of your hips and her hands were planted next to either side of your head. You were completely pinned in by her.

Wanda paused, humming as she moved one hand to slowly drag her nails down your body. You looked so vulnerable like this, naked beneath her. You really were all hers and she knew, as she slid her cock back inside you, that nothing would ever threaten that again. She wouldn’t let it.

She didn’t take long to pick up a fast pace again. Not that you minded, your whole body felt like it was on fire, but in the most satisfying way. All your senses were filled with her, your head swam with thoughts of her and only her. It didn’t take long before Wanda’s full weight was pressed against you, her head buried in your neck as she pumped into you. Her hands, now free from holding herself above you, moved to your legs, sliding down behind your knees. With her hold on you there, she spread you open more. Her hands moved to hook both your legs over her waist so her cock could pump inside you even deeper. It had your head swimming.

“I’m going to fill you with my cum again,” She groaned as her pace picked up. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You love when I cum inside you. You need my cum, don’t you? Say it.” Her hips were slamming into yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the room. At this point the thought of forming a coherent sentence seemed almost impossible. Wanda let go of one of your legs, reaching up to grab your chin. She pulled back just enough to see your face and, to your displeasure, her pace started to slow. You whined in protest, but her hand squeezed hard. “Say it.”

“I- Wanda,” you whined, trying your hardest to please her. “I need your cum. I- I love when you fill me with it.” Any other day you’d be more hesitant to talk like that with Wanda. The way she was talking, the way she was making you talk, it was all very new for you. You were seeing so many new sides of Wanda tonight, but as her hips picked their pace back up and her faux cock continued to hit just the right spot inside you, you were started to think you didn’t mind this kind of possessiveness. Not when it felt like she was claiming your entire body. Not when you so desperately wanted to feel her cum inside you again.

Wanda was almost as gone as you were though. The way you whined and took her cock was enthralling to her. When you finally did as you were told, the pathetic whimper in your voice as you spoke, it had Wanda totally high off the way you felt, how you sounded, and the way you looked underneath her. “Your pussy feels so good,” she growled into your ear before letting go of your chin. Your head fell back onto the couch as her pace disoriented you. “It’s like it was made for me. It belongs to me. You belong to me.” You couldn’t manage to say anything in response, your thighs shaking from another orgasm that was fast approaching.

Your pussy was squeezing her in all the right ways again. Wanda never got tired of it. In fact, she might argue that she was addicted to it. It was all so perfect, the sounds you made while she was fucking you, the way she could feel you tightened around her faux cock. Wanda mentally thanked the gods for her magic in that moment as she felt you tense around her once again.

With a desperate groan, Wanda’s hips began to falter in their rhythm, but that only made her pump her cock harder into you as she moved erratically. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your whole body was trembling uncontrollably as you neared the edge yet again. And again, you could tell that Wanda was approaching it with you. At this point she was yet again practically using your body as toy to fuck so she could get off. Her moans and the grip she had on your thighs said as much. It was the way she groaned in your ear and whispered about how she loved filling you with her cum as she approached her own edge that sent you over. Wanda kept going as you came, her movements getting more and more sloppy as she got closer and closer until finally she came inside you. Your whole body shuddered as you felt even more cum paint you on the inside.

Wanda pulled out, peeling herself off you finally and sitting back to look at you again. Her eyes fixated on the way her own cum leaked out slowly from your entrance. She would go again just to see how much she could fill you until you felt entirely too full of her cum, but she knew you were spent. Your body still trembled and your chest was heaving as you were trying to catch your breath. She was rough with you tonight. More so than she ever had been. But then again, you did test her tonight and you needed to learn.

It took you a minute to come down from how hard she made you cum. Wanda just sat patiently and waited for you to regain composure. Her fingertips brushing against your bare thighs here and there as a way to sooth you. She couldn’t help but admire you as you laid beneath her. You were such a sight… absolutely ruined for Wanda and Wanda alone. Her eyes fell to a few bruises she left behind on your thighs from how rough she treated you, but in her mind, it made you all the more beautiful. Wanda hummed in appreciation as her nails gently dragged down your stomach, leaving faint red marks in their wake. The shift from angry to gentle was a welcome one after your body continued to struggle to come back from how hard you came.

All you could do was continue to lay there, still too exhausted to react. “You’re all mine,” Wanda said that more to herself than to you, but still you nodded your agreement weakly. Wanda couldn’t stop the proud smile at your action. So her actions got through to you. Good, Wanda thought. At least you know who you belong to. Your lesson has been learned. Now, it was time to deal with her other problem. After all, she just couldn’t have that girl near you when she so clearly had unacceptable intentions towards you…

taglist: @desperate-gay @storiesofsvu @storiesofsvu2-0 (idk which one to primarily tag oops lol) @demonicbaby666

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[silverwhittlingknife]

snippet

“Nobody is going to die here,” Dick says, trying to project a confidence he doesn’t feel.

If this were the Titans, he’d probably get some acknowledgement.  Titans together.  A clap on the shoulder.  Something.  But it’s not the Titans, so instead Cass Cain flicks a glance at him and then goes back to scowling at the wall, and Jason says, “Would you fucking quit it with the inspirational speeches, leader-boy?” and Tim says, “I think we should prioritize getting Dick out,” as if Dick isn’t even here.

“I’m fine,” Dick says.  Because he is. Mostly.  It’s not like it’s exactly fun to get whipped and then tied to an ominous black altar in a room with no obvious doors after successfully talking a cult into deciding you’re the optimum sacrifice of their four captives.  But it’s certainly better than the alternative scenario in which the Dark Leader Whatsisface had listened to Tim’s pitch.

“Weakness in the wall,” Cass says.  “…Here.”

“Yeah, weak walls would be great, if we had C4,” Jason says.  “Except for the part where we don’t have C4, because somebody took my stash and my helmet.  Some fucking insufferable team of fucking idiots who like to mind everybody else’s business—”

“Kick, maybe,” Cass says to Tim, who’s still trying to pick the lock on one of Dick’s manacles.

Tim frowns.  “I don’t think even you can kick a wall hard enough to—”

“Not… the wall.  Kick him,” Cass says, nodding at Jason.

“Oh fuck you very much,” Jason says, with more heat than Dick expects.  Jason’s edgy, beneath all the bluffing, and it’s hard to tell why, because although the situation admittedly isn’t great the countdown timer still has half an hour to go before the cult starts punching whatever buttons outside the room that will set Dick on fire—or get him eaten by a dragon, it hadn’t been very clear through the chanting.

Anyway.  They have time, even if Cass’s shoulders are tense and Tim’s face is strained and Dick’s back is killing him—they strapped him with his back down after the beating, and he’s trying not to think about the likelihood of blood stains on this altar thing—and the sweat from the heat is getting in his eyes.

A hand.  Tim’s wiped the sweat away, which is both a comfort and kind of humiliating.  Tim’s lips are pinched—he’s furious at Dick, it’s obvious, only not acting on it because they’re in front of Jason and Tim, at least, understands the importance of presenting a united front.  So it’ll be a fight, once they get out, but Dick’s not sorry.  If he’s totally honest, he’s a little angry himself.  Trust me, Tim had muttered, when they all first got grabbed, and then he’d raised his voice and asked to speak privately to the leader, and Dick only realized too late what he’d been after, when the cultists came back and explained how Red Robin was going to be their sacrifice to the dragon-god and everyone else could live and watch in order to marvel at their lord’s demonic glory or whatever.

“Cass, listen,” Tim says.  "I think if you help me with the manacles—”

“No,” Cass says.  Tim’s been trying to get her to come back to the altar to mess with Dick’s bindings; Cass has been ignoring him.  A splinter in an otherwise seamless partnership.

"If you put pressure on the other side while I pick the lock," Tim says.

"No," Cass snaps. Cass doesn’t believe in united fronts, Jason or no Jason—Dick should know, she once threw him into a wall—but Dick doesn’t think she’s actually mad at Tim, just impatient.  “Manacles broken, not broken… doesn’t matter. No good if we’re still here.  Need to get out.  Then Nightwing.”

“I vote we leave him here, actually,” Jason says.  

“Jason, shut up,” Tim says.

“What, is this suddenly not a democracy? Do I not have the right to an opinion? Are you against voting, Replacement?”

[cochart]

Some headcanons about PT and film they enjoy:

Joker: Sundance type, documentary—esp. nature or space ones, soft spot for classic Hong Kong movies because his parents watch them.

Morgana: Detective Columbo, old 007 movies (pre Daniel Craig), most action movies

Ryuji: Fast and Furious, anything fast-paced and popular but can also stand romance. Would watch stupid rom-coms with his mom if she asks. Only person in PT who can stand Oscar movies. More of a Marvel man than DC. One Piece, Tokyo Revengers

Ann: Like Ryuji, fast-paced action films, 007, Jessica Chastain, action movies with hot female protagonist. Would watch romance with Shiho.

Yusuke: A24, Dario Argento, Akira Kurosawa, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Nosferatu, would’ve watched Lars Von Trier if only his films weren’t all rated R, shares some passion for practical effects with Guillermo Del Toro, kaiju stuff, would probably like John Wick

Makoto: Kamen Rider movie, Sylvanian Families

Futaba: classic tokusatsu, Fate series movies (except Heaven’s Feel), most anime movies, Doraemon, kaiju stuff, American animation, yes she can stand Disney

Haru: Studio Ghibli, British romance movies, John Wick

Kasumi: Japanese romance and drama, Disney

Akechi: Claims to absolutely hate romance but watches Wong Kar Wai films because his mom used to like them, anti Batman (Christopher Nolan or not), soft spot for Featherman but doesn’t keep up with all tokusatsu, probably empathizes with Lars von Trier protagonists, Hirokazu Koreeda films trigger him.

Now, I must admit that some of the choices are heavily influenced by my taste.

[lucysarah-c]

Question my lovely Levi fanfic writer

First off: thank you for always feeding me, it’s glorious

Now onto my question: how do you think Levi would react to his S/O giving birth? I know for the time period they were kind of placed it, it could seem odd for men to be in the waiting room, what kind of person do you think Levi would be in the delivery

It’s giving acting like he knows what’s going on to keep his partner confident but definitely mentally freaking the fuck out

Hi! Hi! How are you?

Aww, no, thank you! Thank you for reading and stopping by my inbox to leave some love. <3 I truly appreciate it. <3

Oh, this scenario is one I think about often. I really love the show "Call the Midwife," and it gives a realistic portrayal of what giving birth was like in the past. Indeed, men were rarely allowed inside the delivery room. Typically, if they were brought in, it was because something had gone wrong, and they needed to make a heartbreaking decision between saving the mother or the baby—a terrible practice.

If Levi were forced to wait outside the delivery room, I can just picture him wearing away the marble floors with his pacing. He’d be thinking, "I should be in there," torn apart inside because he could hear her screams but also desperately hoping to hear the healthy cry of his baby and know his wife is safe. Levi isn’t religious, but he might find himself praying that night for a few hours. I imagine him muttering, "I should be doing something," and perhaps a member of the medical staff or Hange, there for moral support, might quip, "Your only job in this whole process was done the night you got her pregnant, shorty."

BUT! Let’s consider another scenario. Levi might take his wife to the hospital or perhaps choose to have the birth at home, as was common back then. When the midwives try to close the door on him, he’d insist, "I’m staying with her."

"Men aren’t allowed."

"And who’s going to stop me?" he’d reply, with that deadpan voice and deathly glare Zeke knows too well. Good luck opposing humanity’s strongest soldier. If he’s allowed in, Levi would stay with her the entire time, especially if she’s scared. He doesn’t want to miss seeing his child born, but his priority is being there for her.

He’d let her crush his hand and curse his name as much as she needs to. What’s the point of his strength if he can’t support his wife? I agree, Levi would pretend everything is "alright" and that he’s "calm," thanks to those Ackerman genes.

But the moment the baby is placed on her chest and starts crying with full lungs, and she seems alright—crying out of confusion and happiness too, probably—Levi would kiss her head, thanking her and praising her hard work. He’d feel his legs shaking, mostly because the situation was completely out of his control. There’s nothing he could do except tell her, "You’re amazing."

He might even feel his hands shaking as he holds the baby in his arms, sitting beside her as she rests. Levi would gently rock the baby, unable to stop marveling, saying, "He’s so tiny… but his hands are perfectly formed. He’s truly a tiny human… and you did all this."

She would hum in agreement, and for once, Levi would be the one saying, "Oi, try to be a bit more enthusiastic. Look how handsome he is… he looks like you."

She might joke, "Because we both look swollen, red, and a disaster?"

"Tch, no. I was going to say he has your nose."

I adore this one! I hope you like it too! Thank you for reading! <3

Stay safe!

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[braidlottie]

the yellowjackets + movie night

this was an anon request!

/implied younger reader

LOTTIE

- enjoys mostly fantasy/animated movies

- has every streaming service known to man

- “oh this one looks cute!!”

- she ends up crying at the end

- the only movies she will never touch are dog movies

SHAUNA

- has always been a romance/shitty comedy girl

- she has an entire dvd collection that she’s very proud of

- does not own a bluray player, but decides to stick with the dvd player she’s had since 2009 (she has to manually open the disc plate)

- “we’re just like them, aren’t we?” she’s sobbing, pointing to the couple onscreen and holding you

- definitely a cryer when it comes to romances

NAT

- anything horror, gorey, bloody, give it to this guy

- always tells you about the s/o he had in college and how he broke up with them because they didn’t like horror movies 😭

- has to have microwave popcorn and a beer every movie night

- “this is the cheesiest way to die, are you kidding?” and it’s some guy getting his limbs ripped off 😭😭😭

- has always wanted to go to horror conventions his entire life

TAISSA

- believe it or not, i think she’s an action girl

- like a good fight sequence would really suck her in

- if you’re into marvel/dc, she would think it’s too corny but only stick around for the fighting

- “i love to see a women kicking ass. everyone should love that.”

- rip taissa turner u would’ve loved monica rambeau

VAN

- we all know van is a movie freak. he’ll watch anything with you just so we can rate it on letterboxd after

- all of the movies he owns are on vhs and you think it’s pretty funny that he doesn’t know how to work a dvd/bluray player

- one of those guys that never rates any movie five stars,,, except the sandra bullock ones

- “aye, aye. be careful with that, that one’s a rental.” he snatches it from your hand and puts the tape in himself 😭

- has a detailed talk about the movie while cuddling on the couch with you

MISTY

- definitely prefers corny romances and maybe a little bit of sci-fi

- really likes natural disaster movies 😭 like i know her copy of 2012 (2009) hates to see her…

- doesn’t have a problem with horror, unless nat is picking the movie bc she know he’s gonna pick something nasty

- “natalie, the farthest i’ll go is a head coming off.”

- he makes you two watch it anyway, and she’s up all night 😭😭

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Coming out to Marvel Characters

A/N: Happy Pride! Reader's orientation/identity is ambiguous, as is your relationship with the characters :) Masterlist

Steve: Telling him is a little intimidating considering the time he’s from, but truthfully you could of told him back in the 30s and even then he would of accepted you -albeit with more anxiety over your safety. He’s open minded for his time, and he has in spades the kind of compassion you need after bearing your heart and soul like that. 

Tony: He’s a dickhead more often than not, but he gets that this is a rare time not to be. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, and then he’s nonchalant. He acknowledges what you said as sensitively as he can but he also doesn’t linger on it. He accepts who you are, but to him it’s not a moment to get sappy over, it’s as casual as he thinks lending someone basic human decency should be.

Thor: He forgets for a minute that this can be a big deal to earthlings, queerness as you call it is a lot more normalised on Asguard.Then he remembers, and trying to be supportive -albeit a little clumsily- he pats your back and commends the courage it must of taken to tell him, assuring you you have his wholehearted acceptance.

Natasha: Look, as perceptive as she is, there’s no way she hasn’t already known for months. She’s just been too respectful to say anything. When you do finally tell her she feigns just a bit of surprise for your benefit, then she’s very casual about the whole thing. She’s accepting but in a quiet way, she’s one to show her support subtly as it naturally comes up.

Wanda: She doesn’t have the most in depth lgbtqia+ education or anything but she wholeheartedly supports the community. So, between that and her being the compassionate person she is, she’s very easy to tell. She’s so understanding and sensitive to your feelings, and honestly she’s just really touched that you trusted her enough to tell her.

Peter P: It really does come as a surprise, just because he’s usually so preoccupied with his own secret that he doesn’t often think about what other people might be hiding. He adjusts right away though, he’s always considerate to your comfort and now is no exception. He’s so sweet, he’s just happy you told him and asking the most thoughtful questions.

Carol: Though she’s also from a more close-minded time, she’s a little less intimidating to tell. For one thing, she’s spent her life since then around a diverse range of space cultures, and for another, she kind of has her own… vibe. And yeah, you were right not to worry, she doesn’t exactly overreact but she’s very obvious in her support.

Bucky: He is surprised, but also curious. When you spend most your life in the 30s and the rest in captivity you don’t learn how to respond to someone coming out to you (at least not in a way he ever would) but he doesn’t do too bad, he clearly isn’t bothered. Actually you coming out sparks his interest in the matter and inspires him to educate himself on queerness in the 21st century.

Yelena: As another queer person, she thinks it’s great, her eyes actually light up as you tell her. Honestly, she’s kind of hoping that you have more experience with things like pride and community than she does because she could really use some guidance, but even if not it’s still nice just to know she has someone who’s like her in her life and hopes that you feel the same way.

Loki: He couldn’t be less fazed if you told him your star sign, frankly. He is quick though, he can see this is important to you. So, wanting you to feel validated he asks some polite follow up questions, he’s happy to let you vent if you want, he’ll even offer some insight as someone a lot more at home in his queer identity if you need it. Plus, the best thing about telling him is that he’s definitely down to …handle… any bigots you’re dealing with.

Valkyrie: She’ll drink to that. Really, she thinks it’s nice, she’s supportive without making a big deal out of it. Though she’s queer herself, she wouldn’t think to offer any advice on the matter because well… she’s kind of a mess, but if you need someone to talk to she’s not a bad listener.

Kate: Despite what an adorably awkward motormouth she can be at times, she’s actually pretty chill about this. She does rush to reassure you that she’s fine with it, especially if you seem nervous, but she’s otherwise relaxed and lets you do most of the talking. It’s not that big of a shock to her really, it’s not like she’s never met other queer people before.

Peter Q: To be for real, most of what her knows about queer people comes from outdated stereotypes, relics from his childhood, and there was probably a time when coming out to him really would of sucked because of that, but he’s matured a lot since then so he takes this in with an open mind and responds with surprising sensitivity and kindness, at least by his standards.

Gamora: She’s been through planets more or less accepting of queerness so she gets the gist, but with how shut-off she’s been you’re still the first (out) queer person she’s known well. You wouldn’t know that though, because she responds very calmly to you coming out and she’s very easy to talk to about it.

Drax: He does not get the big deal. He doesn’t even get what homophobia / transphobia is really, and yet he still manages to say something totally offensive (albeit completely unintentionally) when you come out to him -which he later apologises for. Of course he accepts you, it’s not even a question, and after that first slip up he does make it a point to try and be more respectful …to mixed results.

Groot: He is Groot.

Rocket: He’s not respectful per se, because he never is, but he takes it fine. With all the crazy stuff he’s seen, you’re really not making headlines. He doesn’t know how to communicate it, but he’s sympathetic to the more alienating parts of your experience, especially to bigotry you faced, and he’s the quickest to defend you if ever needed.

[lovelessrage]

Loveless: A Loveless Review

[Plain Text: Loveless: A Loveless Review]

Trigger Warnings For: Discussion of sex, sex negativity, platonormativity, arophobic tropes, and anti-loveless rhetoric

Disclaimer/Disclosure: I couldn’t finish this book. This will factor heavily into the review, as it has to do with how some scenes, details, and the writing quality were just very hard to sit with and continue. I got about 50% through, so I didn’t just skim pages and get back to you on it.

You might guess I don’t think of this book highly if I had to put it down and stop reading. This would be correct. However, I have more in depth thoughts than that. If you like this book and don’t want to read negative things about it, that's fine, but I implore you to read it anyway. A lot of the problems in this book are present in a lot of creations I see and can be a valuable teaching lesson; loveless people aren’t out to ruin your fun because biases got questioned.

Alright. Enough disclaimers. Review under the cut.

The Bingo Card: Surprisingly, Not A Strikeout

People who have been following me for a while may remember I mentioned I went into reading this book with a bingo card in hand: Loveless and Tired Bingo, a sheet made by yours truly. I did not get Bingo with this book! I did, however, fill 17 spaces out of 25; it just didn’t happen to line up, not because the book passed with flying colors. We’ll return to the Bingo Card at the end of this post to see what it looked like. But, letting you know, that’s a rate of 68% of all squares ticked on Loveless and Tired Bingo. Not looking so hot. 

Platonormativity, Envy, and The Loneliness Whirlpool

Let’s start with the meat of the post so nobody has to read it all if they just wanted my representation opinions. Other things like writing will be shuffled down for your convenience.

Edit: Past Scowl is a liar and a fraud and did not have maims glasses on, and misread the bingo card! I did get Bingo. Oops. Point still stands because the data is the same, I just gave this book a sliver more credit than it deserved for not getting one.

If this book had a full course meal, normativity would ironically be a key ingredient in every plate on the menu. Loveless has a platonormativity problem that confronts you from page 1, more realistically before that; the blurb!

[Text ID: From the marvelous author of Heartstopper comes an exceptional YA novel about discovering that it's okay if you don't have sexual or romantic feelings for anyone... since there are plenty of other ways to find love and connection. /End ID]

I promise not all my complaints will be raving about one sentence, but this kinda encapsulates the entirety of my problem with Loveless: Georgia Warr is not supported in her own novel. Loveless is a deeply insecure book that many can relate to, but, really… does it alleviate that insecurity, or just cover it up? There’s an unspoken “but” to every part of Loveless’ philosophy about aspec people [especially aroaces], where they must have platonic love to make them whole, to “fix” and “redeem” their lacking attractions. This has always bothered me, and it’s not an uncommon opinion in the community, unfortunately.

Aroaces aren’t allowed to simply “be” – they must be more. They must be so platonically invested you forget they’re aroace, because they have all this other type of love to give the world. It’s reflective of a view on a community sourced from hurt and exclusion, of someone trying to rebuild their worth on a new forefront. It doesn’t make it less of what it is, though: it’s a “yes they’re valid, but” statement that serves as the backbone for far too many aspec-focused media. 

Georgia is a deeply unsure character, and there’s nothing wrong with her being this way; she’s a fictional character made to represent a journey of acceptance, not a real person with the ability to inflict harm on other real people. She does reflect the author’s biases in many ways and many points on the same token, though, acting as a mouthpiece. This often comes in Georgia’s insistence her friendships are simply stronger than other relationship types, as well as her reflexive tendencies to judge the friendless.

One of my many, many hurdles in this book had to do with Rooney [someone save her and half the cast from this novel, please], when the group realizes she’s only a socialite, not really a long-term relationship holder, and the entire room devolves into silent judgment. Georgia does not defend her newfound friend, simply noting she thought differently of her. What about Rooney not having many friends changes her outgoing personality? It doesn’t. It’s simply the fact that Rooney being friendless makes her weird, as with many things Rooney is unfairly demonized for in this novel.

The emphasis on friends doesn’t end here, and persists through the entire novel, practically. It is the main focus, when it isn’t talking about Georgia’s disinterests, and her friend circle is very important to her. All of this is fine. What isn’t fine is the expectation and casual enforcement of friendship being all you have, so you must seize it; this book, even though I wouldn’t recommend it, is often given as The Book on being aroace, but I wouldn’t agree [you’re free to tell me I can’t have an opinion on that if I’m not aroace, but at least read on before deciding anything, alright, official hear me out warning]. One, not all aroaces are alloplatonic, and two, this:

Why Is This Book Written Like A Workplace Safety Seminar

It’s a very… cookie-cutter way to be aroace, and cookie cutter aroaces exist in real life! The rep should exist, no doubt, and shouldn’t be taken away from anyone. It’s not my problem per se that the book is semi-stereotypical. What my problem is has to do with something I see a lot.

The book falls into many of the pitfalls of what I’m dubbing “the pamphlet effect”: when a novel, show, etc. continuously needs to halt the plot to remind the audience this character is different, and explains this to you in a way that resembles an educational pamphlet at a pride event. Georgia Barr feels like an example given to explain a concept more than a person, and I feel bad for her because of how little this book engages with her actual character when it shines through. I understand the book is primarily centered on her journey through the spectrum, but very little is given to make Georgia’s experience unique outside of one scene off the top of my head. Her interests, hobbies, and unique feelings only seem to play a role when it comes time to be an author mouthpiece on slutshaming for fun and sport; only one scene, the forced kiss with Jason when rehearsing the play, really blends her life experiences with her aroace experiences.

Georgia feels designed to be an everywoman, and it was very disappointing to say the least. Very little of the book actually feels like I’m with her, or learning about her unique take on being aroace as a theatre fan or young adult figuring things out; it just feels like Georgia [and the reader] are being dragged through the Cliff’s Notes version of what it is to discover being aroace, rather than a look at how a character like this might feel differently than others on a fuller, whole scale. She’s a hole that can fit most shapes into it, which makes her broadly relatable, but not as fun or engaging to read about if you don’t fit precisely in the demographic Georgia is for; even if you do, is there much to engage with beyond “I’m like that too!”? 

This isn’t just a Georgia problem, either, as many, many characters in this book are walking stereotypes or very flat. But, we’ll get into that later [if you want to get into it now, skip to Writing Problems, Oh My!].

The Fingering In The Room: Loveless’ Weird Ideas About Sex

Alright, if you’re sex repulsed and braved the storm to get some insight, this next paragraph is just complete confusion about this book’s sex scenes and talking about some of the details within. If you want to skip that, skip the next paragraph.

Why is everybody fingering each other? Fingering is fine and it feels good, but it is basically the only sexual act this book knows outside of making out with tongue. Someone having sex in Loveless? They better have clipped their nails because at least two are going in. It feels like a point of research that was skipped because it was unimportant, which. Pretty much, yes. But when you’re someone who pays very close attention to sex scenes because you’re of the opinion they can have artistic value, as well as conveying the author’s views on sexuality, I come away with “is fingering what Oseman thinks young adults do?”. Anyways. Something I noticed.

[Okay sex repulsed people, you’re good. No in depth descriptions beyond this point, just the word “sex”.]

I should’ve titled this section “In Defense of Rooney Bach” because oh this poor girl. Oh you are just there to be gawked at.

First off, let’s begin in a good place: this book always has to clarify it isn’t slutshaming its characters, followed by slutshaming its characters. Rooney is, for the uninitiated, very sexually active. Georgia’s envy often leads to a judgemental, close minded view of Rooney that often pins her sex life as “too much” – something many sexually active women get villainized for. It strikes me immediately how Rooney is constantly picked on for her sexuality as a woman in ways no male characters who aren’t asexual either are treated. None of the men she flirts with or spends time with are reprimanded or “held to account” by the book; Rooney alone is breaking the rules. Rooney’s descriptions are often bookended with a disclaimer that she isn’t being called a slut, she’s just like one, which… This is slutshaming. You can’t just say you aren’t doing it to not be doing it.

Rooney is also a victim of a very arophobic trope, and one that is also misogynistic: the Broken Woman. Why is Rooney sexually active? A rough breakup that broke her heart and makes her fear intimacy on account of potentially being wrong again. Sure, sex feels good, but explicit focus is made on the fact she is only not engaging with romance because she tried and it didn’t work. For a few chapters, admittedly I was hoping for a book where an aroace and aroallo can get past some differences and expand each other's worldviews; what I got was Georgia thinking pretty poorly of Rooney through unaddressed envy and sex negativity, and Rooney being made to only like hookups because she’s messed up. Because of course a woman could only enjoy that if she had a negative experience that forced her on the path!

Also, another scene I didn’t like was Georgia and Pip watching Rooney have sex while she is completely unaware of their presence? Jason leaves as soon as he notices, but the two of them watch before Pip makes a comment on how disgusting it is and Georgia agrees. I’m shocked at how little this is brought up as being violating or creepy. 

If it was a better book, I would have expected it to result in some kind of furthered conversation about boundaries; it could've been a place for Georgia to start establishing what she likes and dislikes, starting with Rooney preferably keeping her out of her sex life when she’s able. Instead, this event gets brought up solely for jokes, and for a motivation for Pip to start hating Rooney, despite her insistence it wasn't because of the hookup and she isn’t slutshaming. Always a great sign when that needs to be clarified. This is a PSA for everyone: you should not need to clarify you aren’t trying to slutshame. If you feel the need to do so, you are probably being sex negative. 

This book isn’t very fond of sexually active people, nor is it kind to characters that are. I can understand why being asexual and sex repulsed is representation people would want, but I also think there’s many, many ways to write it without making it an exercise in shame.

Ironically Kinda Arophobic In Some Parts

This is a short section of a thing I noticed, hated, and had as a contributing factor for my ending early: this book loves aphobic tropes. There’s already the trope against aroallos of not needing romance because of being broken into only liking sex, but also the problem with Pip and Rooney.

I’m a lesbian, for clarification, and I’m saying from experience that I hate the archetype of the angry, jealous lesbian. It’s everywhere. It’s in this book. Pip, upon even the idea of being rejected, starts berating and demeaning the girl who turned her down, even if she was only turned down in her head. The book passes it off as a lighthearted, funny story that Pip got so mad at an ex-crush she was suspended for throwing an apple at their head. Why do I bring this up?

Is it not ringing any bells that this is arophobic? That a character so hostile to romantic rejection is treated as a joke? Many, many aros, and queer people in general, have experienced violence for turning down someone. It’s a serious issue for aros and a real fear in rejecting someone. I found it incredibly hard to read and sit through as everybody passes off Pip’s tendencies to do this to the women that reject her as a silly, funny Pip moment and not a major issue for the aspec community. I don’t care if it’s enemies to lovers, because it doesn’t really feel good to read at all. The only tension is built off the back of something I’ve experienced in real life and many others have as well. 

Lovelessness: The Insecurity Unaddressed

This book, despite its title, is obviously about a loving character. Many people might not see this as a problem: first off, loveless doesn’t always mean the same thing, and second, many aroaces express feeling loveless when coming to terms with their identity. Here’s my rebuttal.

One: Georgia fits no definitions of the label. She subscribes to none of the beliefs. She loves her friends actively and sees their relationship as more than romance or sex, as something greater to her.

Second, this is because anti-loveless rhetoric is everywhere and all over this book. Not once is it suggested Georgia could live as loveless, or truly be without love. In the end, she is surrounded by it, simply learning to accept friendship instead. The way her insecurity isn’t met with “you’re complete as you are”, and instead with “you can still be complete if you simply fill the void with friends”, is anti-loveless. Nobody is allowed to be whole on their own without a subplot where their doubts are reinforced or they’re explicitly made to be broken inside.

This is shockingly common, and always sad every time I see it. Many aspects fear being loveless, as if it is a curse or blight they must cleanse. This book is one example out of many, but it doesn’t make it less hurtful when a book that runs against everything your community stands for [self-acceptance and the optionality of love] bears your name regardless. It is a book for people who are afraid of loneliness, and it answers their insecurities with “you’re right. You do need other people. You just need to find a way to still find and have a life partner!”. This is damaging to loveless people, especially those questioning an aplatonic identity.

Again, it’s not unique to Loveless. But, it’s reflective of a broader issue of aplatonics who may be seeking community constantly being presented with “you ARE broken, but friendship can fix you!”, a “solution” many can’t use, and often leads to even more self-hatred.

That’s about it from the aspec side of things. If you got this far, congrats! The rest is opinions on the writing, and the bingo card finale. You can drop off here if that’s all you came for.

Writing Problems, Oh My!

This is veering into heavy personal opinion, so, I will remind you: I don’t usually like YA, but YA can be a very good genre! I do not think this book is a good representation of what good YA looks like.

The writing quality is one of the hardest things to get past, because of a major problem I observed: Oseman is better at comics. This isn’t so much a vilification as a recommendation that it would’ve been much better suited for a different type of media. This kind of “media dysphoria” is present in many of the ways the book operates: many scenes would flow perfectly well in a visual piece. Georgia’s inner monologue has a tendency to jump suddenly into scenes and interrupt the action in a way that would be perfectly natural as a narration bubble put over a drawing of the scene around her. There are entire pages of just… text messages that would be much better suited to a visual medium where you could make these dialogue bits look much more interesting through different shots, or drawing what the background would look like on a screen [The Girl from the Sea does this well, for example]. 

There’s also the fact I cannot place in my mind if I'm too old for this novel. A lot of the jokes boil down to “hah! Sex!” in a way that instantly alienates me from the writing. The jokes can be pretty juvenile and repetitive, and serve to be the equivalent of a comedian saying “eh? Get it? That was a joke.” six times. 

This isn’t to mention the fact many of these characters are complete cardboard. Sorry. Jason does not need to exist. When he appears in a scene, he is ignored or completely leaves it on his own. He really only serves to drive Georgia’s character forward, rather than have one of his own. I found myself forgetting he was present in a scene at all until he spoke again and reminded me of his existence. The book would practically be unchanged if Georgia temporarily dated Pip and Jason was never a factor, plus or minus the Shakespeare Soc plot. 

Many interesting characters suffer from severe Pamphlet Effect syndrome. Most of the girls do. In a better novel, they would be more in depth, but Loveless doesn’t really afford them this luxury. I need to take the girls very far away from this novel, okay. I need someone to write a version of Loveless where they have personalities. There’s crumbs there. Please, someone make a loaf of bread out of it. They deserve it.

Another thing, but minor: the breakneck pacing at some points followed by slow slogs of not a lot happening contributes to the reading issues. You may thing something would be dwelled on, just for it to go flying away into the sunset as 3 more things happen and then one problem lasts for 2 chapters. I found it very hard to catch up with Loveless, while other parts I felt like I was constantly waiting for it to catch up with me instead.

The Final Frontier: The Bingo Card Returns

And without further ado, the Loveless and Tired Bingo Card for Loveless by Alice Oseman! Completed with help from other readers braver than I.

[Image ID: A bingo card made from a basic template. It has no title, and all the text is black on a white background. Some squares are marked with a blue X, while others are marked with a red scribble. The marked squares are: “Not prioritizing friendship treated as freak behaviour”, “Jab at loveless sex thrown in”, “Something about not being like THOSE people”, “Universal type of love is laid on thick”, “The answer to all your problems is finding some pals”, “Found family ending”, “Platonic-romantic binary”, “Love still treated as universal [free]”, “Friendship is more wholesome or pure”, “Amatonormativity BAD [platonormativity is my bestie]”, “Platonic love being more powerful or sumn”, “You still love your friends though, right?”, “Friendship saves the day”, “Still thinks you need dedicated people to survive”, “Being alone treated as worst thing in the world”, and “Friendships are more stable than partnerships anyways”. The unmarked, blank squares are: “Something about "players" and pickup artists where no commitment is villainized”, “Character fears being loveless and is kinda aplphobic about it”, “Aspec double standards [one is normal, one is weird]”, “You still love your FAMILY, right???”, “QPRs mentioned by no nuance given to their diversity”, “Friendship forced upon a character against their will”, “Comment about some people being inhuman gets brushed past”, and “Simply prioritise your family instead!!” /End ID]

Would I recommend this book? Uh. No! Well. Yes, but not as a good book for aspecs. I’d recommend it solely to read it yourself and form your own opinions. But, no, I would not recommend it to any aspecs I know, especially not loveless ones, aplatonic ones, aroallos, or if they're an aroace looking for support.

Ah, Loveless, how you vexx me. Never again. See you in the next, much shorter post.

[jinwoowoo]

Flames

Male reader x Aespa Winter

Length: 5564 words

TW: smut

Perfection is a word you rarely use, if not, have not used it at all, believing that everything has its own flaws and weaknesses. It is almost like a mantra of your life, an excuse to let every mistake in your life have a reason why it happens, but that stubborn way of thinking changed after you met Kim Minjeong.

Minjeong, who prefers to be called by her friends as Winter, has an exceptional beauty comparable to a fine winter morning. Her beautiful eyes shine like sparkling snow reflecting the sunshine. Her nose is so small it looks like a fawn resting peacefully inside its hole, protected against the layer of the cold snow. Most of all, her cold glare and attitude against strangers fit her name, that's why they wonder how a tacky, not-so-cool-looking guy like you managed to melt her ice-cold heart.

Though you see Minjeong as a perfection, a pearl among a sea of pebbles, she sees herself differently. She loves how you cherish and worship her like a lover, respecting her for who and what she is, but she still can't help but compare herself to others. Society has this image of what they define as a sexy, alluring woman; marvelous bust, tiny waist, and round hips. Minjeong fits on all of it except the first category.

Even if she has a smaller, sexier hip and waist compared to other women in her same frame, Minjeong’s breasts are too small to be considered a woman’s. Because of her tight, teenager-like body, Minjeong has frequently become a target of malicious unwitty slanders on Instagram; that a chopping board has more curves than her breasts and kissing them will let you know what kissing a man’s chest feels like.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask Minjeong during your cozy cuddle, sensing her sudden gloom as you spoon her on the couch. Today is one of the rare days when both of you are out of work. Every time you two are free, Minjeong invites herself over to your house to hang out, sometimes arranging a dinner date in advance to enjoy sweet moments together.

“Oh, it is nothing, oppa. Don’t worry about it.” Minjeong replies, dispirited.

You take a peek over Minjeong’s shoulder to see what she’s been doing, and you witness something that breaks your heart. Hands trembling as she tries to control both anger and sadness breaking her heart, Minjeong scrolls through her latest Instagram post, reporting every malicious comment about her.

Minjeong senses the fiery anger fuming out of your nose touching her skin, scrolling downward to refresh the app quickly. She knows and is aware of what you have done to help her against her haters, reporting and filing cases against some of them, and she doesn’t want to bring this more in front of you, more than today you two are supposed to be chilling out and getting cozy.

You reach over Minjeong’s body and shut her phone screen off. Setting her device on the coffee table in front of her, you hold your girlfriend by her shoulders, spinning her body to face you.

Meeting you eye to eye, Minjeong cannot suppress her feelings anymore. She breaks down, wailing against your chest heavily. Your blood boils in an instant, filled with rage as you see a fragile kind girl like Minjeong crying and hurting over some trolls behind their monitor who doesn't care how much they hurt the person they are criticizing. Your fists clench until your knuckles turn white. You want to punch someone, you truly are, but you suppress your anger as Minjeong needs you right now. Grabbing some tissues on the coffee table, you wipe Minjeong’s tears, rubbing her back to calm her down.

“Oppa… Do I look hideous?” Minjeong asks while sobbing, stifling between her words.

“Of course, not! Why are you asking that? You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen, Minjeong. The most beautiful woman I fell in and will love forever”

“But the comments on my Instagram account. They said I look ugly. Maybe I-"

As you don’t want to hear Minjeong doubt herself and assure her she isn't as ugly, you lean forward and shut her lips with a kiss. Minjeong gasps, startled by the sudden kiss. Her hands grasp your shirt, toes are curling when you deepen the kiss.

“You are not ugly, Minjeong. People who call you ugly don't know the real definition of beauty, let alone know you personally. Please don't doubt about your looks." Patting her head, Minjeong slowly nods her head, now blushing and burying her face on your chest again for a different reason.

Feeling Minjeong relaxing, your chest feels a lot lighter now. You hold her chin with your thumb and index finger, lifting her head to face you again. With eyes sparkling like stars, lips quivering as they touch, puckering and parting away, it is Minjeong’s turn to catch you off guard, leaning forward and surprise you with a kiss.

You kiss her back and up the notch, licking her lips for an entrance that she didn’t hesitate to provide. The simple soft soothing kiss to calm down Minjeong slowly turned into a making out, her hands wrapping around your neck to pull you on a deeper kiss. The sound of your lips smooching and smacking, followed by soft groans and wet sucking of each other’s tongues broke the silence of the quiet morning.

Your body heats up in excitement, and you can feel Minjeong feel the same when your hand slides under her shirt, rubbing the skin of her back. Her legs are rubbing against each other, seldomly hitting your leg with her knee as the heat reaches her core. Getting needy as she is, your other hand reached for Minjeong’s top leg, lifting it so you can slide in your thigh between her legs. Your girlfriend slowly slides her crotch on your thigh, her body grinding against your torso.

Minjeong is having the best feeling of her life completely forgotten the malicious comments about her on her Instagram, now that the one that truly cares for her worships and loves her back. She grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging and begging for you to take them off. You smirk between the kiss and pull away, staring at your girlfriend's eyes who's aroused right now.

“W-why, oppa?” she asks, stuttering as her lips quiver, already missing the taste of your lips. “Why did you stop?”

“Because this isn’t the place to treat you with love, my princess. Let’s go back to our love nest.” Smiling, almost a smirk, you answer Minjeong with a wink.

Minjeong was still flabbergasted when you rolled and stood out of the couch. She yelps when you scoop her body, easily lifting her body and carrying her to the bedroom. Slowly, you put Minjeong down on the bed, letting her sit on the edge as you take your shirt and pants off, leaving you in your boxer. Putting your hand over Minjeong’s shoulder, you gently push her down until she's lying on her back, you hovering on top of her. Your hand that holds her shoulder now reaches upward to cup her cheek, the other rests beside her head to keep your body supported.

“You are so beautiful, Minjeong. I can’t help myself but fall for you even more.” You told her the sweetest yet sexily as you could.

“Hmph. Flatterer.” Minjeong huffs, looking away from your melting gaze.

You chuckle and hold your girlfriend by her cheek, turning her head to face you. Her blushing cheeks and welling eyes are the most adorable you have seen, a stare hitting your heart directly and calling out for your love. Losing your control already, you dived in and captured Minjeong’s lips with yours, continuing the making out you two hadn't finished on the couch.

Minjeong gasps, feeling the fiery heat of your love surging in the kiss. Her hands reach forward and rest on your chest, but you immediately take them on each of your hands and pin them beside her head. Her fingers entangle with yours, nails digging on your skin as your hungry wet kisses trail down from her lips down to her jawline.

“O-oppa~ mhhh~” Minjeong groans a throaty moan, fueling your lust further.

You don’t stop kissing her neck until you leave hickeys all over her soft skin, marking her as yours. You keep going further south until you face the hem of her shirt, quickly biting on the fabric and pulling it up to her chest using your teeth to reveal her sexy tummy. With no hesitation, you dwell down, and French kisses her belly button, tongue sweeping the sweet tiny hole.

Minjeong groans from the sudden surge of pleasure, her hands slip out of your hold and immediately grabs the pillow sheets above her head. She didn’t have the chance to process the delectation she feels as you raise her shirt higher, taking her bra up along the way to expose her perky boobs.

The tingling feeling suppressed Minjeong’s urge to hold her moan as your fingers played with her nipples, trapping each inverted nub between your ring and middle finger while the rest pressed and played against her teats.

Squirming hard and lively underneath you, the way Minjeong’s body moves shakes the cage of the wolf inside you. You want to be an unleashed beast, to become feral and feast on the poor gentle fawn beneath you, but you always remind yourself that you must take care of Minjeong’s needs first.

You stop kissing your girlfriend’s sexy midriff and capture one of her teats in your mouth, suckling on it with your tongue rolling on the hardened bean. The sweet taste of her perfect size boobs fills your buds, your glands activating to salivate and savor every flavor you could get. Your free hand roams on the side of her body, tracing the outline of her slim alluring waist until it goes down to her pubic, reaching down to discover her heating core.

Minjeong closes her legs in a snap, trapping your hand to stop your advancement but you still prevail and push her soaked panty aside. Your digits are immediately coated with her slick juice that she squirts after you sucked her breast a bit harder. Wasting no time, you plunge your middle finger inside Minjeong, sliding in and out leisurely while using your thumb and pinky finger to spread her thighs apart.

“Oppa~ ahh~ more please~” Minjeong pants heavily, her neediness shown in every word.

“More of what, Mindeongie? You should tell oppa more clearly” you tease, earning you an unsatisfied grunt from your cute girlfriend.

“P-put more inside me, please~ I need yo-mhhhp! ~" You abrupt Minjeong’s words mid-sentence by putting your index and ring fingers in,

Minjeong’s back arches, pushing forward against your chest as your additional fingers inside her descend deeper into her dripping cavern, each thick digit curling and pressing hard against her warm walls. Her love honey squirts out, wetting the back of your hand as it keeps pumping her.

You stop devouring your girlfriend’s boobs to watch her squirm in pleasure. Her eyes are shut tight, lips parted with tongue sticking out, trying to elicit a moan but can't as she finds herself choking on pleasure.

As you keep giving Minjeong the care she needs, your fingers feel a sudden tightness around them; your hand is soaked and dripping. Her moans are getting high-pitched, breathing turns erratic as she trashes her head around. Knowing that she is already at her limit, you decide to level up your game. You lay down beside Minjeong and tuck her hair behind her ear, blowing hot moist air on her neck.

“Don’t’ hold it, Mindeongie. Oppa wants to feel his baby squirt~” you whisper in Minjeong’s ears, stimulating her mind just as you do her body.

“No! ~ Nghh ~ You are so unfair, oppa~” she wince, still fighting her urge not to cum

Growing impatient, you pump your fingers harder, intentionally making loud, lewd. and wet noises. You then whisper in Minjeong’s ears how much naughty she is for being so wet right now, that her little coochie makes not-so-innocent sounds. You position the base of your palm above her slit, finding her swollen clit effortlessly, and rub it in circles.

Minjeong feels her defense crumbling, slowly succumbing to the pleasure and urge to climax. Having you near her neck, sucking her pulse point, and licking the back of her ear doesn't help either. With a suppressed squeal, each muscle of her body tensing, Minjeong finally let go and orgasms hard against your hand. Her pussy clamps vice around your fingers, thighs trapping your arm as her warm juice floods your hand. Her breathing hitches for a while, mind shuts down due to overstimulation.

“Oppa… I really hate you… You perv…” she pants between her words, eyes still trying to focus.

“Awww~ I love you too, Minjeongie. But I’m sorry. Oppa is still not done with you yet.”

You pat Minjeong’s head and give her a sweet peck before reaching for her clothes. Minjeong groans as she tries to move her tired body, helping the much as she can while you undress her. Now that she’s fully naked, you remove your boxer from your hips, finally unleashing your penis that's been begging for Minjeong’s touch.

“Babe, can you help me with here please?” you beg cutely, earning a chuckle from your girlfriend.

You grab Minjeong’s small hand and wrap her fingers around your veiny shaft, forming a knuckle with a hole to slide your penis on. Minjeong giggles as you give her puppy eyes, which she always says doesn't suit you, yet always falls for it. She slowly moves her hand back and forward, stroking your penis delicately while pulling it closer to her at the same time. You just follow her tugs until you are kneeling beside her head, your bulbous glans reaching close to her face.

“Do I have to suck it? It looks dirty" Minjeong teases, making you pout. "I’m just kidding, babe. Kneel in front of me"

You follow Minjeong's command and straddle her chest, hips hovering above her so you won’t crush her body with your weight. Your girlfriend smirks and parts her lips, attempting to catch and put your dick inside her mouth without the help of her hands. Her futile attempts only cause your dick to grind all over her beauty. Sometimes you make your dick twitch once it aligns with her lips so she has to try capturing it again.

Annoyed and needy, Minjeong surrenders to putting your dick into her mouth using only her lips and finally uses both hands, stroking it hard and rough as a little petty revenge for your teasing, before putting it inside her mouth.

The pleasure your cute girlfriend's small lips give makes you groan sexily. Her soft yet rough tongue flicks on the slit of the tip, harvesting the oozing precum as if your glans is a tap that releases precious sap. You look down and watch Minjeong giggle while sucking your dick, not sure if she finds her actions funny or she’s enjoying having your dick in her mouth; nonetheless, she looks so cute and innocent.

Your hips thrust slowly, carefully fucking Minjeong’s mouth to the back of her throat. She hates it when she gags, complaining that your penis is too big for her throat. You once tried to teach your girlfriend how to deepthroat you, but her uvula immediately contracts and pushes your dick away, an unpleasant feeling for both of you.

Though you dream to have Minjeong suck your dick all day, that plan should be done next time. You retreat your hips, pulling your drool-lubed dick out of her wet lips. Minjeong tries to chase your dick back, looking like a puppy chasing for her treat, but she pouts at you when you rest your whole length on her face instead.

"Appetizer's over, baby~ time for the main course." You coo, putting your hand on Minjeong’s cheek where she grinds over it.

You go out of bed and position yourself in front of Minjeong. Slowly, you crawl your way up starting from her feet, kissing her soles and calves. You then fold her knees and point them to the ceiling, pushing her heels closer to her cute ass. Getting closer to her thighs, your girlfriend tries to kick her legs and straighten out of impulse, feeling ticklish as your tongue and warm breath touch her rosy skin.

You hold Minjeong’s legs firmly, spread them apart, and invite yourself to have a taste of her body. The juices she squirted still linger on her thighs, adding exquisite flavor to her soft skin. You purposely make loud and lewd licking sounds, telling Minjeong how much you enjoy her taste that words can’t convey.

Minjeong curses under her breath as she feels your warm breath teasing her shaven pussy. Her toned legs are trying to close but your body blocks her attempt. Even if you want to taste her more, you teased Minjeong enough and can’t contain your excitement any further.

You trail your perverted tongue from her sexy tummy up to her jawline, hastily capturing her lips and making out with her.

Minjeong’s body squirms underneath you. Her craves for your touch, the lingering feeling of your body against her skin that keeps her warm, are expressed by each slight movement of her body. Her hands slide from your shoulders down to your chest, and one continues to go south until she holds your dick and aims the head in front of her entrance.

You stop kissing Minjeong and look her in the eyes. Minjeong stares back, gulping hard when she feels your warm heavy breath blowing on her face, and nods slowly. She strokes your penis a few more times before pushing the head inside her, letting you do the rest.

“Fuck…” you and Minjeong moan lowly in unison.

Minjeong embraces your body tightly, gasping as you keep pushing and putting your whole penis inside her vagina. Her walls immediately contract around your dick, recognizing its owner and welcoming it with a warm hug. You move your hips slowly, allowing your girlfriend to adjust to your size.

Your leisurely slow pace continues, letting Minjeong enjoy the pleasure your dick gives her. She moans softly as you push in, grinding your dick against her sensitives, but whines adorably when you retreat your hips and pull some of your lengths out. Her fingers are digging into your skin, scratching and wounding up the old wounds she dealt on your back.

“Shit, baby… Why do you look so cute even while having sex?” you groan on Minjeong’s face.

With her eyes half-lid, welling up with cheeks reddened in a rosy hue, Minjeong’s lips parted as she pants, her red tongue sticking out and looking like a puppy. You release a raspy growl, feeling the lust residing deep inside you unleash.

With one arm wrapped around Minjeong’s shoulders, you pull your girl closer to your body, capturing her lips and harshly making out with her. Your thrust increases its pace, pistoning Minjeong’s slick pussy roughly.

Minjeong’s hug on you tightens, embracing her body to accept your wild relentless thrusts. Your sudden roughness sends her to her climax, cumming around your thick and have her juices splashing as your hips collide. Her moans and air in her lungs are being sucked by you, taking her breath away during her orgasm

Feeling her body being less active, her grip around your pussy tightens as she cums, you let Minjeong catch her breath for a while, unlatching your lips from hers and attacking her neck instead.

“Mhhh~ daddy slow down~” Minjeong whines thoughtlessly, gasping for air.

Minjeong’s words sink in both of your minds in a second, and you realize what she just called you. Lifting your head, eyes wide open out of shock but with lips curving upward while trying to suppress your laughter, you and Minjeong slowly turn your heads to look at each other, too sync that it is almost comical.

Mijeong’s whole face turns red, her ears fuming imaginary steam when she looks at your teasing gaze. Never once in the history of making love with you she calls you daddy, saying it was too cliché and hates being treated like a baby now that she’s an adult, yet here she is right now, uttering such an embarrassing word unknowingly in the middle of sex.

 "What did you just call me, babe?" you ask with a chuckle, breaking the awkward silence between you and her.

“I-I didn’t say anything! It is just your imagination.” Minjeong huffs and turns her head, looking to her side to avoid your teasing gaze.

“Yes, you are. You just called me daddy,” you say back, “can you please call me daddy one more time?”

Taking her hands away from your back, Minjeong crosses her arms and huffs again. “I don’t want to! Hmph. I’m already done. I lost the mood.” Pouting, Minjeong puts her hands on your chest, trying to push you away

“Wait, wait! Okay fine. I’m sorry babe. I won’t insist on it anymore.”

Trying to bring her mood back, you pepper Minjeong with kisses, alternating between wet lewd kisses with ticklish ones. Her stern angry look crumbles easily with your ticklish lips, can’t resist when you are giving her puppy eyes and sincere care. You lean and peck her pouting lips, hand pats her now ruffled hair. Minjeong sighs and wraps her arms around your neck, keeping her eye contact with you.

“You promise? It was just a spur of the moment, okay? I don’t why I called you daddy. Don’t make me say it again, it is embarrassing” Minjeong explains softly, speaking with her lips open as tight as possible.

You nod and peck her lips, your forehead leaning against hers. “Of course, baby. I won’t insist you to call me daddy unless you want to”

The kiss to seal your promise turns into a messy making-out. Minjeong closes her eyes and kisses back, her fingers sliding against the frame of your broad shoulder. Your lips never left hers as you start moving your hips again, slowly picking up the pace with thoughts of not breaking her.

Your hand leaves her head to knead her boobs, pushing the supple flesh with the base of your palm. As Minjeong breaks the kiss to catch her breath, moaning in pleasure, you lower your kisses down to her neck and chest, capturing her unattended breast between the pair and suckling on her nipples.

Minjeong’s whiny moans feel like music to your ears, her body writhing and dancing to the symphony of making love. Her pussy is now slicker and easier to thrust in, walls are contracting around your shaft and massaging it. Wanting to feel you deeper inside her, Minjeong spreads her legs wider, her feet barely standing on their toes, almost leaving the drenched sheets.

The monotonous thrusting, though you enjoy being on top of your girlfriend and giving her the climaxes she needs, tires your body easily. You feel that your orgasm is near, but exhaustion slowly chases on you, and might even finish you first before you get your pent-up release. Noticing that your pace becomes sluggish, Minjeong smiles and leans closer, kissing your lips and wiping the sweat on your forehead.

“You look tired already, Daddy. Let Mindeongie ride you this time”

Minjeong’s words shock you especially when she spoke in a sweet cute voice and have the thought of her hating calling you daddy. She seizes the chance while you are flabbergasted and flips your bodies over, being the one on top this time. The sweet and caring Minjeong you know has changed, flipping her personality and now letting you be the receiving end.

Your girlfriend leans down and captures your lips with hers, sucking the air and soul out of your lungs and body during the kiss. Your hands instinctively reach for her waist to hug them, but she intercepts you midway and pins your hands on each side of your head. Just like how you do her, Minjeong kisses your jawline and neck, slowly positioning herself to sit upright with your dick impaling her pussy.

Moving her hips up and down, groaning as your whole shaft slides against her velvety walls in a new yet familiar way, Minjeong moves her body sexily on her desired state. Her eyes are half-lidded, pupils rolling to the back of her head, her cheeks flushed and drunk in pleasure, even drooling and biting her bottom lip to suppress her sultry moans; you are on a treat with Minjeong’s sexy show while she’s riding you.

Her grip on your hands is slowly getting weaker, allowing you to unpin your hands from the space beside your head. You place Minjeong’s hands over your shoulder, freeing yours so you can hold her by the waist.

After a few minutes of riding you, bouncing herself on your lap and having countless orgasms, Minjeong reaches her limit and falls on top of your body. You peck and kiss Minjeong’s forehead, combing her hair to the back of her head to thank her for a wonderful ride. Gaining bits of your strength back after Minjeong’s ride, you flip your bodies over, hovering on top of your girlfriend again and fucking her to chase your orgasm.

Minjeong whines and complains as she is still sensitive, triggering a cluster of orgasms that sends her nerves haywire. Her pussy holds and tightens around you, sucking your penis deeper as if it wants you to penetrate even her womb.

As the tightness in your groin grows stronger, breathing gets heavier with some blood on your brain sending down to the other head for additional backup, you lose your control over your lust and reach your peak, cumming hard inside Minjeong. Ropes and ropes of your semen shoot out of your penis, filling up Minjeong’s heated womb to the brim, even leaking some of it to the crevices of your connection.

After the intense orgasm, exhaustion hitting you like a truck sending you to a parallel universe, your dick grows sensitive and limp, slipping out of your girlfriend’s swollen gaping hole. You pull Minjeong and hug her tight, keeping her convulsing body to post orgasm warm in your embrace.

You roll to your side and snuggle her, burying her face to your chest. She once said that your heavy panting and warm breath blowing on her hair helps her to calm down, so you are doing your best to keep your bodies tangled together after sex. Gaining her senses back, nerves calming, Minjeong looks up from your chest, slapping your pecs playfully.

“You meanie… I told you to slow down…” Minjeong whines, looking like a child in your arms

“Sorry, babe. You are just irresistible”

Mustering the rest of your strength, you pull Minjeong to the side of the bed, wrapping her with the dirty sheets and carry her to the bathroom princess style. She complains a bit, worried that you might turn her into a cute “sushi roll” by fucking her while she’s wrapped up like a sushi, but you promise that you just want to clean her up.

You unwrap Minjeong and let the warm water soak her body, sweat, and other bodily fluids being washed away while the heat of the water calms her muscles down. You go back to the bedroom and clean up all the mess, wiping fluids from the floor and airing the scent of sex out. After cleaning and changing the sheets, you went back to Minjeong and saw her staring at the bathroom mirror.

“What’s wrong, Minjeong? You seem to be deep in your thoughts." Hugging her from behind, you kiss her shoulder and ask.

“Nothing is wrong, oppa.” Minjeong shakes her head, but she knows you are not convinced by mere words. Sighing dispirited, she turns around and faces you, putting her hands on your waist. “I’m just thinking of some things. May I ask you something, oppa?”

“Of course, Minjeong. I am your boyfriend; you are free to share your thoughts with me if they bother you.”

You hug and carry Minjeong by her butt, where she instantly wraps her legs around your waist and brings her back to the shower. It became your habit to keep a small plastic stool on the shower for moments like this, letting Minjeong sit on the small chair while you lather her body with soapy water.

“Do I bore you? Most guys prefer busty women with nice hips and tiny waists, but here I am, chest flatter than a teenager” Minjeong rants while behaving like a puppy getting bathed by her owner

“Most guys just admire something big, Minjeong. Others love big butts, some love huge breasts because they look like their mom’s when they were being nurtured,” you answer, making Minjeong tilt her head back and look at you. “But that doesn’t mean all guys are the same. I love you, Minjeong, everything about you. I don't love you for your looks alone. You just came to my boring life and made everything perfect. And I want to be like that to yours. I will do everything that will make you happy. So Minjeong, will-”

“Stop being cheesy, idiot. Don’t say something like a marriage proposal while we are in the showers.” Minjeong hushes you quickly, blushing and turning small right after.

You chuckle and raise your hands, retreating and stopping being flirty with Minjeong. You pool a huge amount of water on the basin and rinse your girlfriend in an instant. After cleaning yourself up and drying up your body with Minjeong, you carry her back to the bedroom and tuck her under the newly replaced sheets, cuddling her in a spooning position.

“You still didn’t answer my question, oppa. Do I bore you?” Minjeong asks once more while scrolling through her Instagram feed.

“Me? Getting bored of you? Of course not. You turn everything around me exciting and I even feel sad that we have to sleep than having fun together.” You cheekily reply.

“Gosh… stop being cheesy. You know how hard I fall for your corny antics. But no jokes, oppa, Do I bore you?” Minjeong asks for the third tike

“Never, Minjeong. I sincerely don’t find you boring. Why do you ask though?”

Minjeong smiles excitedly and scrolls more through her feed until she finds one of her close friend's accounts. She taps on the username to view the full profile, along with some of her pinned posts.

“This is my friend, Jimin, but I sometimes call her Karina. She has beautiful breasts and a plump ass. I was wondering if you would agree to have a threesome with us." Minjeong explains excitedly, keeping her finger on her phone to scroll and show more of her friend’s photos.

The girl in the subject is indeed one hell of a beauty. Her boobs are enormous and a bit saggy, bouncing on even slight movement she does. She has a taut midriff and defined abs as well, lean arms and toned thighs that tell you she works out a lot. You are a bit concerned though as her face looks like a video game character, that she might be using some filters to hide her real beauty. Nonetheless, your mind goes back to Minjeong’s words.

"A threesome? Where did that thought come from? I didn't know you were up to something kinky."

"D-don't call me kinky! I'm just feeling guilty that I can't give you much of what other men feel during sex time with their partner. Karina unnie is bi and has experience in handling both genders on the same bed, so I was wondering if we could bring her to a threesome the next time we have sex."

Minjeong’s explanation gave you a sudden spurt of lust, turning you on in an instant. "Okay we will do it, but I want you to be the mediator over us. If you feel jealous or insecure, we will stop immediately after that."

Minjeong nods fast and with excitement. The thought of a threesome never came to your mind as you are contented with Minjeong, but right now, your heart won’t stop beating fast knowing that two best friends are willing to share the same bed and get naughty with you. Your dick got hard immediately after imagining them moaning your name. Out of instinct, more of a habit, you hold Minjeong by her waist and push back inside her pussy, flipping your body over until she’s on her stomach while you are on top of her.

“Eh?! I thought you were already tired, oppa” Minjeong gasps as she feels you penetrating her again.

“I know, baby. I know… Just one more time, please?”

You hug Minjeong’s body, trapping her arms along with your embrace and start fucking her like a rabbit in heat. Little did you know, this is just the start of a new chapter of your love story with Minjeong, where the smoldering heat of love your girlfriend provides to you will grow stronger, melding with the scorching, roaring fire her best friend will bring to your life.

[spoilers-ahead]

okay!! now that it’s not 2am for me, i’m going to post my selkie!jason todd hc’s straight up au apparently! 

(uh. this was supposed to just be a list of hc’s but i got slightly,,,, carried away)

his selkie skin looks like an oversized red hoodie in his human form, and is just warm enough to help him survive new england winters.

when the summer heat becomes unbearable, he slings the hoodie around his waist

alternatively, he just coasts it out underwater. perks of living in a coastal city!

willis todd was a selkie. he used to tell jason stories of what it was like to swim through the big, wide ocean. of how freeing it felt. how different it is, from the smoggy, heavy air of gotham --- different, but both theirs, in their own right.

but to be honest, jason doesn’t remember much about the stories he was told, or really, anything about willis --- he had been in and out of blackgate for most of jason’s life, working for two-face to try and make ends meet, before dying. 

what jason mostly remembers, are the warnings. don’t let anybody know you’re a selkie. don’t let anybody find your skin. they will find it, and they will use it to control you. even decades later, jason would still remember those warnings. 

catherine is the one who teaches him how to swim, who helps him trial-and-error his way into putting his skin on, and learn how to make the transition seamless. 

after she dies, jason spends three months as a seal, to just... exist. forget.   

although jason technically lives on the streets, whenever he can;t find food, whenever he can’t find somewhere warm to sleep, whenever just being human becomes too unbearable, he spends the night as a seal. he ends up spending more time in the ocean, than on land.

that’s not to say he’s very good at being a seal --- he barely knows how to swim, has to learn how to fish the hard way. 

when bruce finds jason stealing his car tires, he marvels over how nice jason’s hoodie is, soft and fluffy even after all of jason’s time on the streets, especially given the condition jason is in, ribs showing from malnutrition, and the worn and raggedy shape of the rest of his stuff.

jason is skittish when he goes to live in the manor, even after a few weeks. he always adopts an expression particularly similar to a cornered wild animal around alfred in particular, alfred, who keeps on trying to take his hoodie away, purportedly to wash it.

alfred eventually gives up on trying to force jason to wash it --- he figures that as jason becomes more comfortable living at the manor, he’ll wind up telling them why he’s so protective over that hoodie, and they can work something out then. 

whenever wayne manor overwhelms jason with how big and how decadently expensive all the decor is, jason runs away, run to the ocean. 

jason doesn’t actually end up telling alfred and bruce that he’s a selkie --- bruce just has a ridiculous amount of motion alarms, which are triggered every time jason ran off. he had followed jason the third night, and saw him transform. 

bruce doesn’t tell jason that he knows, assuming that jason kept this a secret because he didn’t fully trust either of them. he would later learn that he was right in this assumption (a rare win for bruce in terms of emotional awareness)

except jason doesn’t fully trust either of them, even after a few months. bruce impulsively decides to do a few things --- a) tell jason about batman and robin and his crime-fighting secret identity, and b) tell jason he already knows about him being a selkie. 

jason is absolutely bamboozled by the fact that bruce knows, and yet hasn’t tried to take his hoodie to control him, or to stop him from playing in the ocean for a few hours. 

in fact, (under alfred’s encouragement) bruce offers to take him to the ocean during the day, so he can get “a proper night’s rest that a growing young boy such as himself would need”

jason remembers what his father told him, to never trust anyone, never let his guard down. but bruce has known about jason being a selkie for so long, and he didn’t take his hoodie or try anything. of course he can trust bruce. 

and when he tries on the robin costume for the first time, it fits perfectly. just like his hoodie, his second skin. it fits just like magic. 

oh, it’s a little loose in some places, the legacy of dick fucking grayson a little heavy sometimes, but he’ll grow into it. he’ll make himself, if he has to. 

also, jason finds the fact that even though he’s a friggin’ selkie, his callsign is a bird (a robin, no less) incredibly ironic and funny 

being a selkie is actually so useful for vigilantehood. the amount of people who talk freely, openly, and loudly about their drug smuggling plans near the ports is quite frankly, ridiculous.

honestly, towards the end of his robin years, jason remains genuinely surprised nobody catches on to him or his tactics yet. bruce is very proud.  

even though jason is safe, has been safe for three years, and trusts bruce with his life, his skin, and everything, old habits are hard to break. so he has his hoodie on when he goes to find sheila. 

and anyways, he wants to see if sheila is a selkie too. he’s taking biology right now, and they’re learning about punnett squares. jason’s never met another selkie before, other than willis who he barely remembers. there’s a possibility that sheila knows something, anything, so he has to try. 

sheila gets a glint in her eyes when jason mentions that he’s a selkie, tells him that while she’s not one herself, she’s familiar with the myth. she has long suspected that willis was a selkie, she tells him, and she’s glad to have confirmation. 

jason positively vibrates with excitement, can’t wait to ask, to pester his mother (mother!) with questions upon questions until. 

until. 

sheila doesn’t do anything after she gives him to the joker. she just smokes and smokes. and she doesn’t tell the joker about his hoodie, despite how it would have been much easier for the joker to destroy him that way. much more painful too.  

small mercies, he supposes, in between hacking coughs that brings blood bubbling up his lips. 

after he dies, his hoodie is ripped and in tatters from the crowbar, with burns along the edges from the bomb. bruce has to carefully peel it off his body. 

when jason was alive, his magic kept the hoodie in perfect condition, always. even when the rest of him was covered head-to-toe in mud, or dripping sludge from the nasty gotham sewers. 

bruce stares at the same hoodie, blood-soaked and mangled, so incredibly dissonant from how he remembered it on jason, when he was bright, whole, and alive. 

he can’t stand it. the hoodie that was so precious to jason, that was jason, at the core of him, in this state. dirty and ripped and devoid of the magic jason had exuded. 

in a moment of desperation, late at night, bruce asks alfred to teach him how to sew. he doesn’t dare to practice on jason’s beloved hoodie --- instead, he starts with the suits in his closet, grabbing the first one he sees, regardless of price. rips a hole and sews it back together over and over until he perfects his technique. 

and then he washes the fabric gently, using baby fabric cleanser and scrubbing for hours upon hours until the last traces of the deep-set brown stain from jason’s blood washes down the drain.

he painstakingly sews the scraps of fabric back together with a red thread, carefully sourced to match the hoodie to try and make it flow seamlessly like it used to. 

it doesn’t work, not exactly. despite his best efforts, the creases bruce had carefully sewn together are prominent and thick like scars, littering the  soft fabric.

so he gives up. he hangs it over the grandfather clock entrance to the cave in his study. brings it with him every time he visits jason’s grave, because he doesn’t ever want to keep jason’s hoodie away from him, but he also can’t bear for it to get ruined. 

dick visits him. a rare occurrence, these days. 

dick yells at him, as he is wont to do. 

these days, it feels like they spend more time angry at each other than not. dick says that this isn’t right. isn’t fair to anybody, not to alfred, not to himself, definitely not to jason. he rants, jason deserves to be remembered as he was in life, not frozen in death. 

perhaps he is right. bruce is not unaware of the state of violent, cutting stasis he is in, this putrefaction of his life. and he is certainly not unaware of how it is affecting the people around him. dick. alfred. the neighbor’s kid, the one who wants to be robin.   

bruce tries. not for himself, but for tim. for alfred, for dick. even for stephanie brown, who sometimes, when she smirks just right, or says something with just the right twang, he swears he can see jason in her. 

he still can’t bear to put the hoodie away, because jason deserved better than to be forgotten, so he folds it gently and places it in his closet instead. 

he also can’t bear to look at it for very long, so he forces himself to every single day. 

it’s different from the glass case that houses robin’s tattered suit in the cave --- that, is a reminder of how he failed robin. this, this is salt in a constant, stabbing, festering would, reminding him of how he failed his son. 

it was stephanie, that eventually helped him figure out what to do with the hoodie. when she was young, young enough to cry at ripped pants and skinned knees, young enough that her mother hadn’t touched the drugs yet, her mother would dry up her tears, give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before patching her pants up. 

what not many people know, is that before crystal brown set her mind on becoming a nurse, she wanted to be an artist, first. and so she grabs her old set of embroidery needles, and stitched little designs. dogs and cats. stars and planets. tools and gadgets. 

bruce doesn’t react, doesn’t even move, even as stephanie finishes her story. she hangs there awkwardly for a second, stares up at jason’s suit, waiting for him to respond, before shuffling towards the exit of the cave. 

thank you, spoiler, bruce manages to croak out. 

ah, yeah, she says, shrugging lightly while slouching in on herself, any time, boss. she walks out, and bruce watches her go from the reflection on the darkened computer. 

that night, he takes out jason’s hoodie, smooths it out, grabs his threads, and stitches. 

he stitches on constellations, argo navis, for jason’s namesake in the greek myths he had loved so much. a tiny seal, playing with beach balls. little books, with quotes on the sides. a robin, big and bold. 

he tries to make it as true to jason as possible, not just in death and in bruce’s memories, but as he was in life.

jason wakes up abruptly.  

he wakes up in a coffin, cold, alone, and with a gaping hole in his chest. getting dipped in the lazarus pit only made it worse, only made him all the more aware of what he was missing, all the more conscious of it. 

he doesn’t bother trying to learn how to swim with two arms and two legs, instead of two fins and a tail. it doesn’t feel the same. it only reminds him of what he’s lost. 

sometimes, on sleepless nights that happen more often than not, he wonders what would have happened if he still had a hoodie, still could swim. 

if he still was robin. 

and he doesn’t have access to the cave anymore, or to the titan’s tower, or the watchtower, and his memory of the past is still patchy and shitty in some places. 

so in a burst of impulsivity fueled by the person he no longer is, he prints out photos of robin’s costume from the internet and recreates it on his own. 

if his skin is gone, then fine. fine! he’s perfectly perfunctorily aware that nothing about this resurrection of his is natural. if he doesn’t think too much about it, he’ll be alright. his hoodie, his skin, that was something he was born with, a birthright that died with him. 

but robin, robin was something that he helped shape. robin was something that he worked for, changed himself for. 

and the makeshift robin suit --- it doesn’t fit him, not anymore. no, it feels wrong, like a child playing with their parent’s suit. or --- he realizes, perhaps more accurately, like an adult realizing they no longer fit in their favorite clothes. 

and --- and --- what was the point of it all? what was the point, of trying to make bruce proud of him, of getting dick’s approval, of trying to futilely save people over and over again from the same gallery of supervillains who keep on escaping from prison?!

and what was the point of carving out a space for himself if the joker was just going to beat him out of it, and if tim drake was going to insert himself in the hole he left behind?

and then the next thing he knows he’s in titan’s tower hitting tim drake over and over again because who let him? who let him take jason’s role as a son, as a brother, as a hero? how dare he?

but when he’s slit tim’s throat and torn the ‘R’ off his chest, jason doesn’t feel any better. the robin suit still doesn’t fit. his hoodie’s still gone. 

he’s starting to think it never will, not again. 

sometimes, when he gets tired enough to let his mind wander, he wonders what happened to his suit. 

he’s pretty sure he died with it, so either the hoodie is with the joker, batman, or... gone entirely. (it’s not like they found willis’ skin after he died. maybe selkie skins just disappear in a cloud of sea foam once they die, or some little mermaid shit like that)

it’s a cold comfort, that nobody can manipulate him now. nobody can control him --- not even batman. 

(bruce had thought about it. when he first had his suspicious regarding who the red hood was, before he knew there was any trace of the son he once had left. he thought about using the hoodie, using jason’s selkie skin to coerce him, at least to stop murdering people, to stop hurting their family.) 

(he would never go that far, in retrospect, or at least, he doesn’t think he could ever. to do that to jason, betray his trust so thoroughly and completely... but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t consider it.)

bruce reflects on this as jason reveals himself, the joker tied up at his feet with a gun pressed to his head, and venom spitting from his son’s mouth.  

but when he lifts the batarang to hit jason’s gun, or wrist, or anything that’ll force him to drop the gun, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

and when he throws the batarang, he knows a millisecond after he’s let go, that he’s miscalculated the ricochet. 

so when jason escapes that night, bruce knows he’s fucked up. 

jason goes off the maps, completely. bruce doesn’t know where he is, if he’s safe, if he even made it out of the explosion that night. 

it takes weeks. weeks for bruce to track jason down, from meticulously documenting the dropped threads of where the red hood was pulling strings in the gotham underworld behind the scenes, to tracking security cameras with facial recognition. 

once bruce manages find where he’s staying, make sure he’s safe, he knows what he wants to do. and, he knows what he needs to do. 

jason gets a package in the mail, five weeks after his disasterous meeting with batman and the joker. unmarked, unsigned, no return address. 

when jason opens the box gingerly and carefully, he holds on to his skin for the first time in years. and then, and then, and then --- something right slots into place. his fingers brushed gently over the tiny spotted seal he knows he used to look like, the books he remembered ranting to bruce about for hours on end. 

the robin, on the top left, over his heart, big enough to have changed him, yet small enough to not define him. 

it’s not perfect. it doesn’t even fix anything, not entirely. he still fights with bruce most times he sees him, tries to punch dick in the face, steadfastly ignores tim and steph the entire time. 

but it’s something. it’s something, and the next time nightwing, batman, spoiler, and robin fight a gang on the docks, the red hood gives them a helping hand before jumping back into the ocean and swimming away.

fin!

wow this got long