#i really hope read more is the same as it used to be

[romugh]

THE WIDOW'S LACE - NR

pairing- stripper!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, strappie (n rcv), strappie suckie (r rcv), fingering (n rcv), oral (r rcv), rough'-ish' sex? - i think that's all!

wc- 7.7k (of pure smut) I'M SORRY I'M TRYING TO WRITE SHORTER FICS I PROMISE

a/n- part 1, because YES i have THREE parts ready for this. have fun reading! (big shoutout to @traveler-at-heart; your post made me go feral, i adore you)

synopsis- you find yourself in a stripclub, then suddenly you find yourself in a stripper.

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel - dm or comment to be added to my taglist! x

Natasha wasn’t just any stripper. She was the stripper. The one everyone fell in love with the moment she stepped on stage. Her body moved like sin wrapped in silk, her confidence radiating like a flame that drew every pair of eyes in the club to her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and more importantly, she knew exactly what effect she had on people.

Men and women alike couldn’t help but stare, their lust and admiration hanging thick in the air as they watched her every move. She thrived off it, fed off the power she held over them. They came in hoping for a glance, a smile, a touch. And she delivered—just enough to keep them coming back, but never enough to give them what they really wanted. That was how she liked it. She held the control. Always.

But tonight, something was different.

Amidst the usual sea of desire-filled gazes, she noticed you. You weren’t like the others. Your eyes weren’t filled with the same desperation, the same helpless longing. You weren’t staring at her like she was a goddess to be worshipped. No, you looked at her like she was a challenge. Like you could see right through the seductive veil she’d carefully crafted. It made her stomach twist in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

As she danced, her eyes would flick to you now and again, curious and intrigued. She was used to adoration, not this steady, controlled gaze that almost felt like it was pulling her in. And when the set ended, when her body stilled but her heart raced, she found herself making a decision she hadn’t made in a long time.

She led you to the back room, a place few had ever been. Not because it wasn’t allowed, but because Natasha rarely felt the need to take anyone there. She didn’t need the intimacy the room allowed for, she didn’t crave connection. But there was something about the way you looked at her, like you were waiting for her to slip, waiting for the moment her confidence faltered, and it made her want to see how far you’d push her.

The door clicked shut behind her, the faint thrum of bass from the bar fading into the background as the two of you were swallowed by the dimly lit room. Natasha leaned back against the door, her chest still heaving slightly from the exertion of the performance, but her eyes were as sharp as ever.

“You think you’re something special, huh?” she asked, her voice smooth but with an edge of amusement, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. She tilted her head, watching you carefully, as if expecting you to crumble under her stare like everyone else did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped closer, your movements slow, deliberate, the weight of your presence filling the small space. The air grew thicker with tension, and for the first time in a long while, Natasha wasn’t sure if she was the one in control anymore.

“Do you?” you countered, voice low and calm, your eyes never leaving hers.

Her smirk didn’t falter, but the challenge in your words sent a thrill through her, one she hadn’t expected. She straightened, pushing off the door slightly, closing the gap between you even more, her body mere inches from yours. She could feel your heat, and it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice dropping an octave as her gaze raked over you, taking in the steady confidence in your stance. “But you’re still here.”

“So are you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something that neither of you wanted to name just yet. Natasha could feel the tension, thick and suffocating, like static in the air before a storm. Her body was taut, her skin prickling with anticipation, but she refused to show it. She wouldn’t let you see the effect you were having on her. Not yet.

Then, in one smooth movement, you closed the remaining space between you, your body pressing into hers, pinning her gently but firmly against the door. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden proximity, but she didn’t pull away. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes defiant even as her pulse raced beneath her skin. “What’s your plan?” she asked, her voice still steady, but with a hint of breathlessness now, a tremor that betrayed the control she was so desperately clinging to.

Your lips were so close to hers now that she could feel the warmth of your breath against her skin. But instead of kissing her, you hovered, the tension between your mouths almost unbearable. She was used to people taking what they wanted from her, always rushing to close the gap, always desperate for her touch. But you held back, and that restraint was driving her mad.

“You’ll see,” you murmured, your voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest, her body betraying her, a flush rising in her cheeks as the weight of your presence pressed down on her. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next, and the thrill of that uncertainty coursed through her veins like fire.

Then, without warning, your hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back, forcing her to look up at you. Natasha gasped, her lips parting in surprise, but her eyes remained defiant, daring you to do more, to push her further.

“You want this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice steady, commanding.

Her lips curled into a smirk, though her breath hitched slightly under your firm grip. “Maybe,” she replied, her voice dripping with defiance, even as her body arched toward you, craving more.

“Then show me,” you demanded, and with that, you released her hair, watching as she slid down to her knees with a fluid grace that still spoke of her control, her pride. Even now, on her knees, she wasn’t submitting. She was choosing to allow you to do this, and that made all the difference.

She looked up at you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar challenge, and then her gaze flicked to the strap you had tucked out of your pants. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of it, soft and teasing at first, like she was still testing the waters, still holding on to that last shred of control.

But the moment she tasted it, something shifted. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip before she took it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. She wasn’t rushing, no, the Black Widow never rushed for anyone. But there was an urgency now, a tension in the way her hands gripped your thighs as she worked the strap deeper into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with effort.

You watched as she swallowed her pride along with the length of the strap, her eyes watering slightly as she struggled to take it deeper. But she didn’t stop, didn’t pull back. She pushed herself further, her throat constricting around it, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she gagged softly around the toy.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice laced with dark amusement as you thrust your hips forward, pushing the strap deeper into her mouth. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her body trembling as she struggled to take more.

Her nails dug into your thighs, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as you fucked her mouth, the wet sounds filling the room. Her control was slipping, piece by piece, and you could see the frustration in her eyes when she looked up at you, her gaze filled with a mix of defiance and need.

You pulled back suddenly, the strap slipping from her lips with a wet pop. Natasha gasped, her chest heaving as she panted, her lips swollen and red from the effort, saliva glistening on her chin. She looked wrecked, but not broken. Not yet.

“Something wrong?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes. "You could help," she murmured, trying to regain some of the control she was losing, had already lost. 

“You want help?” you asked, your tone low, teasing. You pushed her head back toward the strap, watching her struggle against her own desire for dominance. She needed this—needed you—but she wasn’t ready to admit it, not fully.

Natasha’s lips parted, taking the strap back into her mouth, but you didn’t let her have it easy. Your hips thrust forward, forcing her to take it deeper than before. Her throat constricted around it, her eyes watering slightly as you pushed deeper. She gagged, her nails digging into your thighs, but she didn’t pull back.

"Is this what you wanted?" you asked, your voice harder now, more demanding. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her body tense as you fucked her mouth, using her. The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with the faint bass from the bar outside.

Natasha choked slightly as you pushed in deeper, but she didn’t stop, her body trembling as she tried to take more of it. But you could see it—her frustration. The realisation that she wasn’t fully in control was pushing her over the edge.

Her breath was ragged when you finally pulled back, saliva glistening on the strap as she panted, lips trembling with effort. Her eyes met yours, and for the first time, she looked... needy. Desperate, even.

“You need more, don’t you?” you asked, gripping her hair tightly. “You think you can handle it?”

She didn’t answer right away, her throat working hard to swallow her pride along with the saliva pooling in her mouth. And then, quietly, she nodded. Just once.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please.”

That was all you needed to hear. You yanked her up by the hair, spinning her around and pressing her up against the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, but she didn’t protest. She wasn’t giving up, but she was giving in.

You crashed your mouth against hers, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t about control anymore—it was about possession. You bit down on her lower lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, her body arching toward you as if she couldn’t help herself.

Natasha's gasp filled the small room, her lips bruised and swollen from your punishing kiss. She should have hated it—the loss of control, the way you commanded her body with nothing more than your presence—but instead, it made her burn. Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in short, shallow pants as you pressed her firmly against the door, your hand still tangled in her hair, holding her exactly where you wanted her.

Her body betrayed her, arching into you, her hips moving instinctively, desperate for any friction to relieve the building pressure inside her. She was wet—soaking, even—and you hadn’t even touched her properly yet. The realisation made her cheeks flush hotter, though whether it was from embarrassment or arousal, she couldn’t tell.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes dark, predatory, as they swept over her flushed face, her heaving chest, and the slight tremble in her legs. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low rasp, sending shivers down her spine. “All that control you like to have… where is it now?”

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, but she couldn’t find the words. She had no clever retort, no sharp quip to throw back at you. She was too lost in the way you were looking at her, too consumed by the need coursing through her veins.

Your grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to look up at you. “Answer me,” you demanded, your lips brushing against her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “Where’s all that control, Natasha?”

She shuddered, her eyelids fluttering as her body arched toward you once more. “Gone,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. It was a small crack in her armour, but it was enough. The moment you uttered her off-stage name, the one no one else knew, Natasha’s brain short-circuited.

You smirked, satisfied with her answer. “Good girl.” The praise made her stomach flip, a rush of heat spreading through her as the words sank in. She didn’t realise how badly she had wanted it—needed it—until you gave it to her.

Without another word, you spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold, hard surface of the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands splaying against the wood as she tried to ground herself. You stepped closer, your body pressing against hers from behind, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down her spine.

She was tense, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending on fire as your hand slid lower, lower, until your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her panties. The moment you touched her, a low moan slipped from her lips, her hips bucking back against you, desperate for more.

“Patience,” you murmured against her ear, your lips grazing her skin. “I’m not done playing with you yet.” Your fingers teased her, slipping through her slick folds, but never giving her enough pressure to satisfy the ache between her thighs. Natasha groaned, her head dropping forward, her forehead pressing against the door as she struggled to keep herself together.

But you didn’t let up. You kept her right on the edge, drawing out every gasp, every shiver, every desperate sound she made until she was trembling beneath your touch, her body begging for release.

“Please,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough for you. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear as you pressed two fingers deep inside her without warning.

Natasha gasped, her whole body jolting from the sudden intrusion, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t. All she could do was moan, her fingers curling against the door as her body surrendered to the pleasure you were giving her.

You moved slowly at first, your fingers thrusting in and out of her with a measured precision, building her up, making her crave more. Her hips moved in time with your hand, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she chased the release that was just out of reach.

But then, just when she thought she might finally tip over the edge, you stilled your movements.

“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it, her body still writhing, desperate for the release you kept denying her. She turned her head slightly, looking at you over her shoulder, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, don’t stop.”

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against her neck as you leaned in closer. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Begging for it. You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushing hot with shame and arousal. She should have hated the way you were toying with her, should have fought back, but she couldn’t. Not when her body was burning like this, not when she was so close to falling apart beneath your touch.

Your fingers curled inside her, pressing against that spot deep within her that made her see stars. Natasha moaned, her hips bucking back against you, her whole body trembling as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

“Come for me, Natasha,” you whispered against her ear, your voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

It was all she needed. With a sharp cry, her body tensed, her muscles clenching tight around your fingers as she came hard, her release washing over her like a tidal wave. She gasped for air, her body shaking as you worked her through it, your fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was a trembling, panting mess.

When it was over, when her body finally stopped trembling, you pulled your fingers from her, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as you watched her slump against the door, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing now as you brushed a strand of hair from her face. Natasha shuddered at the praise, her heart still racing as she tried to catch her breath.

Before she could fully recover, you turned her around again, pressing her back against the door as your lips crashed against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. Natasha moaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer, her body still aching for more, even after the intense release you’d just given her.

Your hands roamed her body, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She shivered at your touch, her breath hitching as your hands moved higher, teasing the edges of her red corset.

“Do you want more?” you whispered against her lips, your voice dark and teasing.

Natasha nodded, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice soft and desperate.

She was still trembling, her breath ragged as she tried to recover, but you weren’t done with her yet. Not even close. You pulled back slightly, your lips brushing over her jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, her skin flushed, pupils blown wide as she looked at you with a haze of lust clouding her gaze. You could see how desperate she was, how badly her body was craving more, needing to be filled.

Your hand slid down her thigh, strong fingers curling around her knee as you lifted her leg, pushing it up to her chest. The position opened her up to you in a way that made your mouth water, giving you the perfect view of her already slick and swollen entrance, quivering and glistening with arousal. Her panties had been soaked through long before, but you ripped them down her legs now, tossing them aside without a second thought. Natasha whimpered, her fingers clutching at your shoulders as her body arched, her hips instinctively pushing toward you, searching for the friction she so desperately needed.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and dark with desire as your hand travelled back up her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin with teasing slowness. “So fucking wet and ready for me.” You reached between your bodies, gripping the base of your strap as you positioned it at her entrance, the thick head brushing against her slick folds. Natasha’s breath hitched, her whole body tightening in anticipation, her hands curling into fists as she pressed back against the door, trying to steady herself.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely audible, but dripping with need. “Please, I need it.”

You gave a low, satisfied chuckle, your eyes never leaving hers as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear. “I know you do, sweetheart,” you whispered, your voice a low rasp that sent shivers down her spine. You nudged the strap forward slightly, just enough to let the tip press into her, but not enough to give her the relief she craved. Natasha whimpered, her hips bucking toward you, desperate to take more.

“Shh,” you cooed, tightening your grip on the back of her thigh as you pressed her knee further against her chest, opening her up even more. “I’ll give you what you need, but I want to hear you beg for it.”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire, but she couldn’t deny how badly she wanted it—needed it. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “Please, fuck me… I need it so bad.”

Your smirk widened, and without another word, you slowly pushed forward, the thick head of your strap finally pressing into her tight, wet heat. Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her body jolted at the sudden intrusion. She was tight, impossibly tight, her walls clenching around the silicone in a way that made it difficult to press any deeper, but the resistance only made you want it more.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, her voice a high-pitched whine as you continued to push inside her, every inch stretching her further, forcing her to take more of you. “You’re—too big,” she panted, her head falling back against the door as her hips jerked forward, trying to accommodate the stretch.

“Shh,” you murmured against her neck, your lips grazing the sensitive skin as you gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You can take it, baby. I know you can.”

Natasha whimpered again, her walls fluttering and clenching around the thick strap, trying to pull it deeper, even though it was almost too much. You could see how tight she was, almost feel how every ridge and fake vein on the strap dragged against her slick walls, sending shivers of pleasure through her body with every inch you pushed inside. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, her chest heaving as she struggled to take more of you, her body trembling with the effort.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you groaned, your own voice strained with arousal as you finally bottomed out inside her, the base of the strap pressing against her soaked folds. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her hips jerked forward, trying to take you even deeper. She was stretched so wide around the strap, her walls clenching and pulsing around the intrusion, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and rough with desire as you glanced down at where your strap was buried deep inside her. The sight was sinful—Natasha’s leg pressed high against her chest, her pussy stretched around your thick strap, her slick juices coating the silicone and dripping down her thighs. “You look so fucking good taking all of this, baby.”

Natasha whimpered, her head tilting forward just enough to look down at the obscene sight between her legs. She could see the way her walls clenched around the strap, the way her slick arousal dripped down her thighs, and it made her body burn with embarrassment and desire. She was so full, so impossibly full, but she needed more—she needed you to move.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a high-pitched whine as her hips bucked forward, trying to get you to thrust inside her. “Please, I need you to move.”

Your smirk deepened, your other hand sliding up her thigh to grip her hip as you pulled back slightly, the thick strap dragging against her sensitive walls with agonising slowness. Natasha gasped, her whole body shuddering at the sensation, her head falling back against the door as her fingers dug into your shoulders.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you groaned, your voice low and breathless as you thrust back into her, the strap filling her once more. Natasha cried out, her body jolting at the sudden movement, her walls clenching around the silicone as you began to thrust into her with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Natasha’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure built with every thrust. She was so full, so stretched, every inch of the strap dragging against her sensitive walls, making her burn with need. Her hips bucked against you, desperate for more, and you were all too happy to give it to her.

You quickened your pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the small room. Natasha’s cries grew louder, her hands clutching at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her body shuddered with every thrust. Her walls clenched around the thick strap, trying to keep you buried deep inside her, but you kept up your relentless pace, fucking her harder, faster, until her whole body was trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so good,” you groaned, your voice rough with arousal as you watched the way her body shook, the way her pussy stretched around your strap.  Natasha’s leg was still raised high, your grip on her thigh unwavering, giving you that sinful view of her slick, swollen pussy stretched wide around the strap.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice a breathless moan as her body trembled beneath you. “Please, I’m so close.”

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you thrust into her even harder, the thick strap filling her completely, dragging against every sensitive inch of her walls. “Then come for me,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over this strap.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body arching into you as the pleasure built to an unbearable level. And then, with one final, deep thrust, she shattered. A scream tore from her lips as her walls clenched tight around the strap, her whole body trembling as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her gasping for breath.

The moment Natasha came undone, her body arched beautifully against the door, trembling violently as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her walls clenched so tightly around the strap that you could feel the pressure even through the silicone, and the sight of her falling apart in your hands only fueled the fire raging inside you.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second.

With each pull of your hips, the fake veins on the strap dragged against her sensitive inner walls, teasing the oversensitive flesh until Natasha was nothing but a writhing, gasping mess. Her eyes rolled back, half-lidded with pleasure, and her lips parted in a soft, helpless moan every time you thrust back into her. You could feel the way she pulsed around the strap, her orgasm still crashing through her, each thrust prolonging the pleasure, edging her closer to that line between unbearable ecstasy and delicious torment.

“God, you’re so good for me,” you groaned, your breath hitching as you felt the silicone slip inside her once more, filling her to the hilt. Natasha whimpered, her head falling back against the door, her nails biting into your shoulders. Her leg quivered in your grasp, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how utterly wrecked she was beneath you.

With a low growl of satisfaction, you pressed her thigh even higher, opening her up even more, pushing her to the very limit of her flexibility. The new angle had the thick strap sinking impossibly deep, and Natasha gasped, her entire body jolting at the sensation. As her free leg instinctively wrapped around your waist, anchoring herself to you, you felt the shift in her balance—she had nothing keeping her standing anymore, fully depending on you.

“Fuck!” Natasha cried out, her voice cracking as you pulled back and slammed forward again, the wet sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room. “I— I can’t— it’s too much!” You pressed her up against the door even more, using your strength to hold her in place as her body trembled under the onslaught of pleasure, the desperation in her voice only igniting your need for her further.

Her whimpers were nearly incoherent, her face flushed with exertion, but you could see the glint of desire still lingering in her eyes. She was teetering on the edge of overstimulation, but you knew she craved every second of it. She wanted to feel all of it—the stretch, the burn, the fullness. The way the strap forced her walls to accommodate the thickness, how each and every detail of your faux-cock dragged along her inner muscles, heightening her pleasure with each stroke.

"You take it so well, baby," you cooed, your voice dripping with confidence and dominance. "You’re doing so well. Look at you—fucking yourself on my strap like this."

Her breath hitched again at your words, a shiver of arousal rolling through her already trembling body. She was utterly at your mercy, and you loved it. You loved how she fought against the overwhelming pleasure, how she clenched so desperately around the strap, trying to draw it deeper into her slick heat. Her need for more, despite the delicious torment, was written all over her flushed face, her parted lips, her half-lidded eyes filled with lust and desperation.

You picked up your pace again, your hips snapping forward with a relentless rhythm that had Natasha gasping for air, her nails scraping down your back as she arched off the door, her body shuddering with each deep, powerful thrust.

“Oh god—oh fuck,” she whimpered, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The leg wrapped around you trembled, barely able to hold on as her body shook under the intense pleasure you were giving her. Her thighs were slick with her arousal, her pussy dripping with how desperately wet she was, and you couldn’t help but groan at the sight of her coming undone again and again.

“Good girl,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips to her ear. “Look at yourself. Look at how fucking good you look with my cock buried inside you.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy as she glanced down between your bodies. The sight made her moan—a deep, breathless sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her. She could see it—the thick, veined strap disappearing into her, stretching her wide, her swollen folds glistening with her arousal. Every thrust made her slick pussy tighten around the silicone, and the sight of it only spurred you on.

You adjusted your grip on her thigh, pulling her leg even higher, pushing her closer to the door as you thrust harder, deeper, the wet sound of her slick arousal mixing with her breathless moans.

“Oh god—fuck!” Natasha cried out, her walls fluttering violently around the strap as you drove her toward yet another climax. “I— I’m gonna—fuck, please don’t stop!”

Her entire body tensed, her head falling back against the door as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm. Her walls clenched around the strap, trying to milk every inch of it as you thrust into her with a brutal, unforgiving force.

“That’s it,” you groaned, your voice low and commanding as you felt her walls begin to spasm around the strap, her breath hitching as her climax built. “Come for me again, Natasha.”

With one final, hard thrust, Natasha shattered, her entire body jerking as a scream ripped from her throat. Her walls clamped down around the thick silicone, pulsing wildly as her orgasm tore through her, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. She was trembling, gasping for air as her body convulsed beneath you, her slick juices dripping down her thighs, soaking both of you.

You kept thrusting into her, slow and deep, prolonging her pleasure as you rode out her orgasm with her. Natasha’s body jerked with each thrust, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as her hands clung to your shoulders, trying to ground herself in the overwhelming sensation.

When her trembling finally began to subside, you slowed your pace, easing her leg down from where it had been pressed against her chest, her body slumping against you in exhaustion. Her head fell against your shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against your skin as you gently pulled out of her, the slick strap glistening with her release.

As Natasha’s trembling body sagged against you, her breath still coming in ragged bursts, you could feel the way her grip on your shoulders loosened and her leg let go of your waist. The aftermath of her climax left her shaky, her muscles quivering from the overwhelming pleasure you’d just wrung from her body. But even in her exhausted state, you could sense her lingering need. It simmered beneath her flushed skin, a wantonness that never quite faded, even when she was wrecked like this.

Without a word, Natasha sank down, her legs buckling as she willingly dropped to her knees. The sight alone was enough to send a fresh surge of heat coursing through you—Natasha, her thighs glistening with her release, her hair dishevelled, and her lips parted as she knelt between your legs. Her eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire, flickered up to meet yours, a silent plea for permission lingering in her gaze.

Your hand instinctively found its way to her cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin as you gently tilted her face up. Her lips ghosted over your knuckles, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin before she shifted her focus downward. Her gaze dropped to the strap still glistening between your legs, slick with her arousal, and you could see the hunger spark in her eyes.

“Natasha…” you whispered, your voice thick with a mixture of affection and desire.

But she didn’t need any further encouragement. Her hands, still trembling slightly, reached for the base of the strap, steadying it as she licked her lips. The tip was soaked in her juices, glistening under the soft light, and Natasha stared at it for a moment, almost mesmerised by the evidence of her own pleasure. Then, with a soft moan, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of the strap, sucking it into her mouth with slow, deliberate movements.

You groaned softly, your hand moving to rest on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as you watched her work. Natasha’s tongue swirled around the head of the strap, tasting herself on the silicone, her mouth moving in languid strokes as she took more of it into her mouth. Her release coated her lips, shining as she sucked the slickness off, moaning low in her throat as she worked to clean the strap.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she bobbed her head, her lips stretching around the girth. You could feel the pressure of her movements even through the toy, the way she sucked and licked with such dedication. It was intoxicating—the sight of her on her knees, her mouth filled again with your strap, the faint, almost sinful sound of her moans vibrating against the silicone as she sucked her own release off of it.

“My good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and full of praise. “Look at you…so eager to clean up after yourself.”

Natasha whimpered in response, the sound muffled as her mouth slid down further on the strap, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. Her hands came up to cradle the base, stroking it gently as her tongue flicked over the veined surface, cleaning every ridge, every dip, savouring the taste of herself.

You could feel her submission in every movement, the way she surrendered completely to this moment. Her mouth moved with such deliberate care, as if this was another way of showing her devotion, her gratitude for the pleasure you’d given her. The way she worshipped the strap was almost reverent, her tongue lapping up every drop of her arousal, cleaning it with slow, sensual strokes.

“Does it taste good?” you asked softly, your fingers tightening slightly in her hair.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with yours as she pulled back just enough to speak, her lips still wrapped around the head of the strap.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice hoarse with lust. “So good…”

And with that, she took the strap deeper, moaning as her mouth stretched again to accommodate it. The sight was almost too much—her lips wrapped around the thick girth, her tongue working tirelessly to clean it, her eyes dark and hooded with lust as she looked up at you, completely at your mercy.

You couldn’t resist. With a low growl, you tightened your grip on her hair and gently guided her head forward, watching as more of the strap disappeared into her mouth. Natasha didn’t hesitate, didn’t resist. She eagerly followed your lead, sinking down on the strap with a soft, muffled moan as she took it deeper, her tongue swirling around the silicone as she sucked harder.

The wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working the strap echoed in the room, mingling with her soft whimpers of pleasure. Each time she pulled back, her lips glistened with slickness, her saliva mixing with the remnants of her release as she diligently cleaned the strap. The sight, the sounds, the intoxicating feel of her submission—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but groan in response. It felt so different from just twenty minutes ago, the air now thick with an emotional tension that left both you and her craving more.

“Such a good girl…” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You love this, don’t you? Love tasting yourself on my cock like this?”

Natasha moaned again, her eyes rolling back slightly as she nodded, her mouth still full of the strap. Her fingers tightened around the base, her tongue swirling with renewed intensity as she sucked harder, her moans vibrating against the silicone in a way that had your own breath hitching in your throat.

You tugged her hair gently, pulling her back just enough to see her flushed, eager face, her lips even more swollen and slick from her efforts. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with lust and devotion, and the sight of her—completely wrecked, completely at your mercy—made your heart race.

“Finish it, once more,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding. “Clean it all up, baby.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, and with one last, eager moan, she sank down again, taking the strap as deep as she could, her lips stretched tight around the girth. Her tongue worked tirelessly, lapping up the last remnants of her release, her fingers stroking the base as she cleaned every inch of the strap with slow, deliberate care.

By the time she finally pulled back, the strap was glistening with nothing but her saliva. She looked up at you, her eyes hazy with pleasure, her mouth hanging open slightly as she panted for oxygen.

Natasha’s chest heaved, her lips still glistening as she knelt before you, a blend of exhaustion and determination in her eyes. Her body was clearly spent, trembling from the intensity of everything that had just unfolded, yet even in her weary state, a flicker of something more shone through. That relentless desire, the insatiable need to please you, to reciprocate the pleasure you had so generously given her, burned bright within her. It was as if the connection between you two transcended the physical, igniting a fire that she couldn't ignore.

With a shaky breath, Natasha reached for the harness still strapped to your hips. Her fingers, though trembling from exhaustion, worked quickly to undo the buckles, each one coming undone with a soft click. You could feel her need—this wasn’t just about giving; it was about showing you that she was still capable, that she could offer you more. Her eyes met yours briefly, the unspoken plea for permission lingering in their depths before she yanked the harness off completely.

Without a word, she tossed it behind you, the strap landing on the floor with a dull thud, completely forgotten. What mattered now was you—your pleasure, your release.

“Natasha, you don’t have to…” you started to say, but your words were cut short as she leaned forward, her hands gripping your thighs with surprising strength, anchoring you in place.

“I want to,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but resolute. “I need to.”

Before you could protest further, Natasha dove in, her mouth finding you with an eagerness that made your breath hitch. Her lips latched onto your sensitive folds, tongue immediately parting you as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your centre, savouring every inch of your heat. A low moan escaped your lips, and as soon as Natasha heard that first sound of pleasure, it was like a spark ignited within her.

She dove in deeper, her tongue working you with relentless precision, swirling and flicking against your most sensitive spots, teasing and tasting in a way that had your head thudding against the door in front of you. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open for her as she devoured you like she couldn’t get enough. Each stroke of her tongue, each gentle nip of her lips, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and it didn’t take long before you were moaning openly, your hand tangling in her messy hair as you rocked your hips against her mouth.

“Fuck, Natasha…” you gasped, your voice thick with lust and awe. “Just like that…”

Your praise only fueled her further. Every moan, every word of encouragement that slipped past your lips made her work harder, her tongue moving faster, her lips sucking greedily at your clit. She was completely lost in it, lost in the way you responded to her touch, in the way your body trembled beneath her mouth. It was like she couldn’t get enough of your taste, couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made—the way you were falling apart for her.

And as you moaned her name again, louder this time, Natasha whimpered softly against you, her hips involuntarily bucking as if she could feel every ounce of pleasure you were experiencing. The connection between the two of you was palpable, an unspoken bond that seemed to tether your bodies together, each of your reactions sending waves of sensation through both of you.

She could hear the way your breath hitched, feel the way your thighs clenched around her head, and it drove her wild. Your pleasure was her pleasure, your release was her reward. Natasha’s own arousal was building again, the slickness between her thighs only intensifying as she tasted you, her own body responding to the rhythm of your moans, the raw, unfiltered sounds of your ecstasy.

“Oh fuck–Natasha…” Your breath was ragged, your body on the edge, teetering precariously close to that release she was so desperate to give you.

With a final flick of her tongue and a deep, sucking pull at your clit, you came undone. The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under in a flood of overwhelming pleasure. Your hands clenched in her hair as your back arched off, your thighs squeezing her head tight as you cried out, your voice echoing through the room in breathless, blissful moans.

Natasha didn’t stop. Even as you writhed above her, she kept her mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your release, savouring every moan, every tremor of your body as you rode out your orgasm. And as you came, something shifted in her—something broke free inside her.

She felt it—the sudden, uncontrollable surge of pleasure that washed over her as your moans hit their peak. It was the mere sight of you, the way you fell apart for her, the way your body shook with pleasure, the way you moaned her name like she was the only thing that mattered that set it off.

Her own release hit her like a lightning strike, her body going rigid as her climax overtook her without warning. Natasha gasped, her mouth still pressed against you as she came, the shock of her own orgasm freezing her in place. The pleasure ripped through her, stealing her breath, her thighs quivering uncontrollably as she came just from the sight of you.

She pulled back from you slightly, her lips still wet with your release, her eyes wide with disbelief as her body shook with the aftershocks of her own unexpected orgasm. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her mind reeling from what had just happened. You were both wrapped in the warmth of the moment when suddenly, your phone rang loudly in the silence.

You reached for it, reluctantly pulling away from Natasha’s gaze. “Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes, Pepper,” you replied, your voice a mix of disappointment and urgency.

Natasha smiled softly at you, a bittersweet feeling bubbling up inside her as she leaned into your touch, your hand gently stroking her cheek. There was a warmth in the gesture that made her heart flutter, an affirmation of the bond that had just blossomed between you two. She felt seen, cherished, even amidst the whirlwind of everything that had just transpired.

“Tell him to prepare some dessert,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I haven’t had the chance to have mine here. Hopefully next time I will, the menu looks promising.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she caught the glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You could see her heart racing, a delightful mix of embarrassment and exhilaration washing over her. The intimate nature of your exchange lingered in the air, and the thought of your teasing words sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Next time,” she echoed softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as the realisation settled in that you would be back for her.

With a final glance at her, you turned to leave, a flutter of anticipation sparking between you two. As you made your way towards the door, Natasha’s eyes followed you, filled with longing and excitement for what lay ahead. And as you stepped outside, you left behind the strap, a tangible reminder of your connection, a symbol of what you had shared.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Natasha alone in the room, her heart racing as she thought about everything that had just happened. She picked up the strap, feeling its weight in her hands, and a wicked smile spread across her lips.

She couldn’t wait for your return. She was already crafting ideas for the next time you’d come back, each thought fueling her desire for you even more. Because this was only the beginning, and she was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that you would both find your way back to each other, intertwined by the widow’s lace.

[stayconnecteed]

🪐˓⠀˚⠀i guess i'm in love⠀@⠀kim seungmin.

this is just a cute birthday fic based on the love of my life @skzms and her seungmin's drabble 'seungmin in love', which i totally recommend before you read this. i hope you like it, may, and that i made justice to your words!! i listened to i guess i'm in love by clinton kane while writing this. the beginning of the plot is based on a personal experience! i wish it had ended that way tho askjdhkasjd

SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀4k words. ⠀⠀general mlist.⠀⠀join taglist.

You had never mustered the courage to talk to a boy until university made you come out of your shell. The morning you had stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, ready to listen to the dean of your faculty give the introductory talk, you had sat alone in one of the front rows, hanging on every word, your heart racing. You didn't know anyone, and you preferred to focus on the speech, waiting for some extrovert to adopt you, rather than take the first step.

You had always been shy, and you felt a sense of panic at the thought that you might end up alone for the whole degree, but you were incapable of approaching a stranger and starting a conversation. Your fear was a prison and the guardian of an anxiety that swirled in your chest, the number one reason why you had hidden in the same table in the library during all your free hours, and also the consequence of too many bad experiences in the past. 

But then you had met Seungmin.

You hadn't spoken, at least not at first. You hadn't even realised he existed. He was just another classmate in the core subjects shared by all those who studied the same course as you. He smiled softly at the jokes of the teachers he liked, became more serious in the most difficult lectures, and tried not to show his anger when the typical annoying repeat student made their trademark rancid comment. You hadn’t even known his name.

Eventually, you found yourself waiting for those little reactions. Like you, he also showed up ten minutes before the first class started, he also sat alone, and he also came to school with his headphones on, drowning out all the noise in the corridors with the playlist he had made for himself at the beginning of the course. He would arrive with his dark blue backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders, and a book in his hand ーthe same one he would read for a while before the professor arrived. You found yourself smiling as you watched him, writing down the titles of his readings, looking forward to the classes you shared with him.

And then you saw him appear for the first time in the library. You were at one of the more secluded tables, your back to the wall, your laptop a shield protecting you from the other people in the room. And he had slipped quietly in, his ears covered by the black headphones, leaving his backpack on the table in front of yours. For a moment you had stood still, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, the word on your document half-typed, your breath caught in your throat. And then you looked away, and went on with your work. It was stupid to react like that for someone you didn't know.

But the next day your little dance was repeated, sitting opposite each other, in complete silence, a calm and concentrated reflection. As if there was a mirror between the two tables. And the next day, and the next... Until it became a habit. You would leave class a little late because you knew it would take him longer to collect his belongings, and you'd follow each other's shadows with your gazes through the corridors until you reached the library. He would hold the door, and you would smile at him. And when you left him the book you'd used to find out information about a homework topic, he'd return the soft curve in his lips, showing his braces without an ounce of insecurity.

Despite all your little interactions, you hadn't really made any move. The day you realised that there was another girl waiting for him at the end of your class, a more outgoing and prettier one, the kind who always gave the right answers to the teacher. She was asking him if he could explain to her the latest topic discussed in class over a latte in the building's cafeteria. You felt like you intruded, so you left. But that had been the same day you went to the library alone, and you had to open the door for yourself. You missed his smile. And you realised that he was worth every tremor in your hands, only if it meant taking the first step with him.

The next day, you mustered the courage to talk to a boy. To that boy. You approached him before class, sitting one line forward of him, taking a deep breath of air and exhaled it as you tried to keep your nerves under control, your eyes closed. With your pulse racing you had turned, resting your fingertips on his desk, and caught his attention by waving softly. He had looked up from the intertwined sentences of his book, closing it as soon as he saw it was you addressing him, and you enjoyed a few more seconds of your bubble, his brownish gaze all over you, before bursting it.

Your words were quick and breathy, stammering over coffees and shared hours, your gaze anywhere in the class but on his face. Yet he responded calmly, a mask of stillness in contrast to the chaos of emotions spiralling inside him, and you only interrupted the conversation when the teacher began the lesson, Seungmin's gaze returning to your figure every few seconds. That was the first free hour you disrupted your way to the library and accompanied, shoulder to shoulder, your quiet classmate to the cafeteria.

You heard him order an iced americano with syrup, greeting the lady behind the counter with rehearsed confidence, and waiting, tracing his gaze across the profile of your face, for you to say what you wanted. Then he guided you to one of the tables at the back, and let you sit on the bench with its back against the wall. Almost as if, somehow, he knew that it was what you preferred. For a moment  you wanted to get your hopes up, to think that he thought of you as much as you thought of him, but it didn't actually make any sense. So you sighed, and set your bag down beside you, intertwining your fingers in a nervous gesture.

You had been the one to propose the plan, and suddenly you realised that you had been so sure he would say no that you hadn't planned any further.

You wandered your gaze in silence, steadily, slowly, trying not to meet his at any point, your shyness forcing stitches of thread on your lips, unable to utter a word, until the waitress appeared with her tray and your drinks, and Seungmin's raspy ‘thank you’ broke through your bubble. You uttered your own, no sound coming out of your throat, and flashed the start of a smile when he managed to continue a conversation that hadn't existed until then, asking how you had adjusted to the lectures, to college.

And then you let loose like a torrent. The stuttering edges of your lips tightened, answering in short words how your university experience was going, daring even to lock your eyes with his when you returned the question, wanting to hear him speak. And as he told a story similar to yours, albeit with many more friends than you had, you reached your trembling hands towards your cup, taking it and sipping a small amount of coffee.

You tried not to let it show, but the bitterness was enveloping your taste buds in a flavour you were not used to. Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced, swallowing the thick liquid in one gulp, avoiding triggering your gag reflex, and you looked back at Seungmin, who was watching you with a hard stare. He tilted his head, almost like a dog would, and picked up the cup you had just set down on its plate, wetting his lips to taste it. He opened his eyes slightly, muttering a soft, “This is not what you ordered,” and got up to go reclaim it.

You felt the heat rise up your neck and settle on your cheeks, unable to believe what had just happened, and watched from your warm seat as the boy spoke to the woman he had greeted earlier, how she was surprised and certainly apologetic due to the confusion, and the whole process of making from scratch what you had ordered in the first place. It was Seungmin's gentle smile when she returned, treating the porcelain with extreme care so as not to spill the contents, that made you suppress the apology you had thought of saying. Perhaps he had decided that it was his responsibility, that the barista had mistaken the order, but he had done it because he had wanted to. You could read it on his face.

“Thank you so much,” you said, brushing his skin with your fingers as you took the new mug, closing your eyes to smell the sweet, thick hot chocolate you loved so much. “You didn't have to.”

Winter was beginning, and with it the need to drown yourself in cosy blankets, at-home plans and movie classics that had become your favourites over time. So you told Seungmin when you opened your eyes and realised that he was watching you, trying not to retreat into the shyness that had been with you for so long. You were ready to get out of your comfort bubble once and for all, and having a conversation with someone who in your thoughts was no longer a stranger seemed like the natural option.

After that, it was relatively easy. The words flowed between you, asking each other about your lives and replying with more questions, exchanging anecdotes, dropping little jokes that elicited laughter, lost in each other's gaze. As easy as breathing, the minutes passing by on the clock without even being aware of it, learning to read a new language, through what you told each other. Opinions and experiences, comments and compliments, engaged in a dance that only you knew, until the alarm on your phone started ringing, and you realised you were late.

You apologised with hurried syllables, quickly packing up, waving goodbye, heading hastily towards the counter to pay for your drink. You were surprised when the woman indicated that Seungmin had already taken care of it, and you looked back for a few seconds to give him a beaming smile. He mirrored it, leaning against the table you had been sitting at, and waved his fingers in response. It was when you got into the bus, on the way to the restaurant where you had agreed to meet your sister, that you realised you hadn't asked him for his phone number.

Apparently, you weren't the only one to think so.

The morning after your disaster of a first conversation, you arrived early. You sat in the third row, the fourth seat, just like you always did. And you doodled in your notebook, deep in thought, until you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. You looked up, smiling when Seungmin made an exaggerated gesture of wanting to sit next to you, and managed not to burst out laughing at his antics when the teacher came through the door to start the class.

And it was when you were barely able to keep your eyes open, the teacher's voice lulling you into a light sleep, that you noticed the tip of Seungmin's finger brushing your arm. You turned, ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine, and instead of questioning what he wanted, you found a sheet of paper folded over the pen that had slipped from your hand. You opened it discreetly, glancing at Seungmin out of the corner of your eye, curious, and didn't bother to suppress the smile that curved your lips as you read a tight “What's your phone number?”.

You wrote it down quickly, going over each digit twice to make sure there could be no confusion, and slid it across the table for Seungmin to tuck it away. You nodded goodbye to him as the bell rang, and you had to part ways, him going to the opposite side of the corridor, to another class. You grabbed your bag, and sighed, not so keen to attend your remaining lecture. At least until at least twenty minutes into it your phone screen lit up, receiving a new notification.

Unknown number: Hey, is it true that Mr Choi’s classes are soo boring?

Unknown number: Or my contact in his classes has shamelessly lied to me?

The contact in Professor Choi's class was you, because you had complained the day before about him, and the unknown number had to be Seungmin. You put the phone under the table, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice and begin to dislike you, and typed in the answer:

You: Mmm, you shouldn’t trust your contact.

You: They wouldn’t be boring if you were here.

Seungmin 🫶🏼: Naah, I bet my classes wouldn’t be boring if my contact could attend them.

You: You can't use my sentence with me.

You: That's like cheating.

Seungmin 🫶🏼: Would it be cheating if I bribe you with a cup of hot chocolate?

You: Whatever you say, lover boy.

You tried to imagine Seungmin's reaction, your subconscious tricking you with images of him blushing in the middle of class, and left the phone in your bag. That interaction had made your day.

From then on, you could only continue to develop your friendship, intertwing yourselves like a tangled vine, unable to separate from each other. The Christmas holidays had distanced you a bit, each enjoying a few weeks of relaxation with your family, but the study period leading up to the exam season brought you back together at that table in the library, exchanging complicit glances and helping each other take breaks when the stress got too much. He was the perfect study partner, and it was reflected in your grades, none of which dropped below a C.

At the end of finals, in those days before the second semester started, Seungmin had invited you to one of the pubs his friends had shown him. He had told you that they hadn't gone because he didn't want them to say anything stupid in front of you, but you hadn't missed them. With a glass in his hand, he had followed you to the dance floor every time you had asked, neck flushed and shy eyes when he saw the alcohol had disinhibited you enough to move your hips freely. It had been a memorable night. And when it struck three in the morning, he was the one who escorted you to your flat, just to make sure you got there safely, and you were the one who begged him to stay with you.

The second semester began with many hours of late arrivals to class 一something you hated, but which was certainly more bearable in his company.

You would gather as soon as you arrived to the faculty on one of the benches by the entrance, he sitting comfortably with his ankle on his thigh, you with your knees against your chest, jumping from conversation to conversation until the bell started ringing, startling you, and you would run up the stairs together, to get to class before the teacher. You learned to cope with it because somehow the stress of being late was compensated by the way Seungmin would touch you so he wouldn't lose you in the corridors. Always behind you, like a guard dog, guiding you to your class with his hand resting on the small of your back, making sure you got in before he wandered off into the crowd in search of his own, in case you didn't share it.

And in the free hours you got to know his friends, or at least some of them. The first time was in a class that was cancelled at the last minute, on your way to the library, when you saw Seungmin's silhouette in the cafeteria, his broad shoulders framing the back of the chair. You greeted the short boy and the one with the narrow eyes with a shy smile, before asking them if they would let you sit next to Seungmin.

You had seen the knowingly smirks, and also their suspicious gazes, but they had made you feel like a long time friend of theirs, so you shaked the creepy feeling out of your body. You stayed silent most of the conversation, listening to their jokes and anecdotes, smiling upon the fact that they treated Seungmin like a brother 一teasing him to death. And from then on you always found a free seat by his side in your gatherings.

Your confidence with them, with Changbin and Jeongin, solidified at about the same time as you accepted that Seungmin just saw you as one of the group, and you tried to stop getting your hopes up. Throughout the semester, you began to participate in conversations with his friends, gaining confidence, and even participating more in class, socialising with classmates and getting to know some girls with whom you thought a friendship could develop. You noticed Seungmin was becoming a bit distant, but with your Friday movie nights and your weekly coffee (hot chocolate for you, he made sure they didn't mess it up again), you assumed he had simply decided that he had other priorities.

At least until the beginning of sophomore year, the night of Minho's birthday celebration. That october night, you had arrived late to the restaurant where the group had decided to hang out in, and the place where you normally sat, to Seungmin's right, was occupied by a freckle-faced blond you had seen around the dorm on some occasion. You greeted Seungmin with a quick kiss on the cheek, a high five with Jeongin, and went straight to the birthday boy, to congratulate him with a hug.

You had spent the whole week crocheting cute fruit-shaped hats for his cats, just because a joke you two had, and Minho's genuine reaction had been to take you in his arms and turn you around, both of you giggling. You remembered that he had told you he couldn't wait to get home to try them on his babies, and you had commented that it was a crime for him to be all lonely on the table on such a special day. With the excuse, you had sat next to each other, leaning like two old oaks so that you could hear each other over the music, your knees touching and his arm over your chair.

At one point, after all the group had gathered, when you had followed Minho's unfocused gaze at Seungmin, his eyes gave off such a hard acrimony that you thought you had done something awfully wrong.

You tried to talk to him about it the next day, when you woke up in your bed, but he wasn't by your side. Seungmin, who normally would be curled up against one of your pillows, had actually slept on the sofa instead, and when you asked him why over breakfast, you got no answer. You could see him building up anger and complex emotions inside, unable to utter a word, trying to decide what to do, before desist and wish you a good morning, leaving you on the kitchen. The absence of that trust you thought you shared broke your heart.

And yet, that very same night he showed up at the university party night that Jeongin had proposed 一Thursdays were his favourite days to go out. He appeared at the pub without even looking at you, as if it pained him to see you, deliberately sitting at the other end of the table. The second time since the two of you had met that you weren't next to each other.

At that moment you ordered the first drink. And they just kept on coming.

You tried not to care. For a few hours, you managed to make it happen. But when that boy approached you, with the soft look Seungmin always gave you, with the same wide smile he reserved for you, you decided that willing to lie to yourself, at least you should get something out of it. So when he pressed his hips to yours, you let him, and when he put his arms around your waist, you allowed it. You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing that his body didn't feel next to yours the way Seungmin's did, and as you felt him slide his hand down the back of your neck, you smiled, kissing him back just as eagerly.

But the spell melted on your fingers as you parted, and you found all the details in his face that made him so different from Seungmin. So you apologised to him, again and again as you escaped his embrace, wandering around the dance floor until you collided with Changbin. He gave you a bright smile, asking you how you were doing with Wonwoo, but the pout that formed on your lips made him react, taking you by your shoulders and interrogating you about the guy, Wonwoo, if he had crossed a line with you. All you managed to do was deny, before asking him to take you home.

It was a terrible night. For you, and for him, who nursed you back to sleep.

And it was also terrible to wake up, when you realised you were alone in your flat. Alone, tangled in your sheets, and the alarm clock ringing, reminding you that you had a schedule to follow, and you had to go to class.

Seungmin was not on your self proclaimed bench when you arrived, though you sat down to wait for him anyway. And when the bell rang you walked up the stairs, slowly, like a soul wandering the corridors of the faculty, ignoring the professor's disapproving face when you interrupted his speech by opening the door. You paid no attention to his words, sittimg down and doodling on your notebook, enduring as best you could the hour that lasted, leaving as soon as you could.

But then you saw him. With his blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and the brown sweatshirt you had stolen from him some chilly afternoons. And you made eye contact with him, but continued on your way. You couldn't face him. All you could think about was the way he had ignored you, as you heard his footsteps, and how you had kissed another boy just because it looked like him. You went down the stairs, the necessity to get out of there bubbling in your chest, wlaking through the doors of the building. You knew he was behind you, but you wanted to be able to ignore him too.

Until you heard him.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you stopped in your tracks, paralysed. He then repeated it, this time louder. “I love you, I’m so sorry but I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned around slowly, utterly convinced that it was your imagination. But his kicked out expression was a reflection of how you felt, brows furrowed upwards, the waterline of his pretty eyes covered by a bubble of unreleased tears, tortured by his absence. And his cheeks were coloured red, flushed with the shame that let you know it was true. Still, he was looking at you with a devotion you were able to clearly see now, like you hung the stars in the sky. All you had once imagined was true, and he was there, waiting for your response.

So you approached him, a shy smile curving your lips, and rested your hands on his shoulders, nodding.

“I love you too,” you murmured, lips moving against his, his breathe hitching. And kissed him. Eyes closed, feeling a sigh slipping in between your mouths, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs while he took you by your waist. And you kept smiling, your chest exploding in relief, savouring him like it would be the last time you would see him.

“I love you too, you jerk,” your repeated, resting your forehead on his.

© stayconnecteed 2024 ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[ctghost]

okokok i can't stop thinking about @yan-randomfandom 's godling fic so here's some drabbles on ford's thoughts.. this can be some sort of continuation of this! (P.s i hope i'm not bothering by tagging you jdkdkrjk 😭😭)

part 1 part 2

visualization that inspired me

"Well i'll see you later, pines, until then!"

Ford wakes up.

You really aren't just a piece of his dream. But he can't just believe fact that you aren't bill. Second dimensional, wearing a bowtie, and all that. Who would know if he could just be wearing some sort of bizarre skin?

But then he starts thinking what you just called him. Pines. Bill never called him that. All his years studying and time with bill, he had never heard anything about a deity like you. Could you possibly be from the same dimension as bill? If so, wouldn't that mean you're bill's ally? That's got to be the only logical reason here. You're likely trying to trick him to be able to make a deal with you. Well that sure isn't gonna work now.

But he had to be sure.. maybe this night he'll try to get some answers out of you.

-

"You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals aren't my forte,"

"I do wishes."

-

"Is that so? Well then, how many wishes?"

"One." His eyebrows furrowed at that. "Bill-"

"I am not Bill Cipher."

-

"You could use your wish to help me gain my memories back, or you could use it for yourself, it's your choice, really."

After a little more talk, he knows now that you are likely not lying, and that really don't have any recollections of your own past, and even your name. Still, he couldn't just trust you. Everyone knows what happened the last time that happens. Maybe he'll try to ask more questions later, he still needs to fish out as many answers as he could get.

But you probably even don't have much to give anyway, since all your replies are just "i don't know" or "i don't remember". He became slightly frustrated at your lack of vary answers, but guess he should appreciate you not trying to twist any truth there is.

Back in the mindscape, Ford's deep in his thoughts as he observes you moving around almost boredly. There's just so many questions.

If he really used his wish to get your memories back, would you be indebt to him? Or would you try to burn the world down just like bill?

He let out a small sigh, but soon a realization hit him, You can read his mind. If bill has that power, you could do the same-

He suddenly jumped, alarmed. You paused what you were doing and looked at him. "You alright there, pines?"

He was about to retaliate- but seeing your almost sincere and confused look on just a singular eye, he calms down abit from his overthinking. Just because you have similiar physical traits, you're not bill. Atleast not as far as he knows now with your memory loss.

You can't hurt him. Not in the mindscape anyway.

"I'm fine." He finally replied, after seeing that you were still staring at him.

He should probably start investigating to see if there's anything out there that could tell him more about you.

-

Aka, ford keeps comparing you to his ex muse after first few meetings

[willmiwi]

Thought I'd analyze Eddie's reaction to Buck coming out to him bc i don't think it's given enough credit.

First thing after buck tells him tommy and buck were on a date is Eddie looking confused, I don't even think what Buck said really set at all. He made the connection of the date and the first thing he wondered was "wait. Tommy's gay?".

Then, goes the question "so .... You two were...."

And he looks... Shocked, kind of hesitant too, doesn't even end the sentence, maybe afraid he misunderstood somehow.

Doesn't matter because Buck comes to the rescue to finish it. He smiles fondly at Eddie like his hesitance is endearing and kind of like saying it's "hey it's okay, yes we were on a date, you don't need to hesitate."

Buck is immediately insecure though; it's been a second and Eddie Still looks like someone has dropped a bucket of cold water on him. I think he's more focused on how this new information shocked him than doing what one does after someone comes out to them: reassure them. It's okay though, he's just surprised, nothing weird. And so Buck asks. "Is that weird?"

And he's looking at Eddie with that analysing look, searching for something and Eddie's quick this time. Pulled out of his own head.

"No . Absolutely not." You just took me by surprise there.

Buck's still looking at him like that, like he doesn't really believe it. And so Eddie's quick with a joke too, he looks kind of nervous? From now on? Like we Needs this situation to feel lighter somehow.

It works. Buck finally relaxes and laughs.

Then, this scene:

And Eddie's just trying to reassure him, telling him what every queer person hopes to hear when they come out, "this doesn't change anything, I still love you"

But Buck.... Oh buck, looks like that's somehow Not? What he was hoping to hear? He literally pouts, breaks eyes contact and goes "that's uh. That's good to hear"

Doesn't sound like he means it though.

He goes on:

Eddie proceeds to yap on best friend @ best friend advice: If he doesn't call u back he's an idiot.

But then. THEN!!!!

Eddie's reaction is what gets me the most here so I'm getting a gif that's a bit longer so u can see the reaction he has to that line:

Again. Same reaction. But from Eddie this time. Pouts, rises his eyebrows defeated, and pointedly looks away. All while looking upset and Not all all overjoyed about his best friend is crushing on someone. Hello?

Eddie then gives him some advice about not giving up and Buck gives it right back to him. Eddie takes that opportunity to all but Run off to talk to Marisol:

I think it hits him then that as much as he wants to run, to think about this on his own without prying eyes that want an answer from him right then and there, and just, Sit with it, That this is..kinda Huge, and maybe he should just put his feelings aside for a bit and reassure Buck a bit more. Like he doesn't want there to be any hint of doubt that Eddie's not okay with this.

So he stops by the door, turns around and they hug:

That's it ! I just think this tells us so much about their relationship, especially since after this Eddie doesn't seem to want to hang out with Tommy anymore. And the few times they do he doesn't look like he's having the best time, if u compare it to before (he knew about Buck's crush).

If you got here, thank you for reading!

gif creds: @beets @livelovecaliforniadreams :)

[tryingtograspctrl]

THAT JUST WON’T DO: LOUIS AND LESTAT X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY: Sometimes you felt insecure, unworthy of their love... oh how wrong you were.

Warning: Blood, insecurities, sexual themes, etc.

You were 25 when you received the dark gift. The vampire that made you wanted nothing to do with you, turning you and leaving you to fend for yourself, learning how to feed on your own, digging holes and burying yourself beneath dirt to avoid the sun, you couldn't afford the luxury of a coffin, the luxury of a home in general. You had nothing, no one, no where to go, you were lost...

Louis had stumbled upon you first, your thoughts loud, beating inside his head like a drum.

You were in a dark alley, knees pulled to your chest, rocking yourself back and forth attempting to self sooth.

You were filthy, your hair caked with dirt, your clothes the same. To anyone else you probably looked some homeless addict, but Louis knew exactly what this was, he could sense you, practically smell the fear on you, the pain, the hurt and he was pretty sure any other vampire in a 10 mile radius could too. He was surprised nobody else had gotten to you first.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" He spoke telepathically.

You jolted, backing away frightened as he approached you.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He put his hands up, stopping a few feet away from you.

You looked at him skeptically attempting to poke around in his mind but hitting a wall.

"I'm a little better at controlling my thoughts, i've been around a lot longer than you." He half smiled squatting in front of you.

"I'm alone because i don't have anyone." You looked up at him.

"What?" He raised a brow.

"My maker left me, i don't have anyone." You whispered.

He got a good look at your face, really soaking up your features, his eyes locking with yours. They were green, similar to his.

He took pity on you, your circumstances pulling at his heart strings.

"Come on, i know you're hungry. We'll get you fed and cleaned up." He extended his hand to you.

You accepted it hesitantly.

When Louis first brought you home Lestat was completely against it, he didn't like the idea of having to raise another vampire, not after everything that happened.

It took some time but he eventually warmed up to you, quickly taking a liking to you and showering you with affection and gifts, money was no object of course.

The three of you grew to love each other, eventually establishing a relationship and things were going good, until you got inside your head too much....

The sun had just begun to set and the three of you were lounging around the living room, Louis reading a book, Lestat messing around on the piano and you knitting a new project.

"Dove?" Lestat stands suddenly, taking a seat beside you on the couch and pulling you into his lap.

"Yes baby?" You glanced up at him for a moment.

"Me and Louis have a dinner to attend tonight, business matters. We were hoping you would join us.." He looked at you expectantly, fingers grazing your plump thigh.

"Of course i'll come, should i go get ready now?" You asked placing your knitting supplies down.

"Yes, i have an outfit in the bedroom for you." He pecked your cheek.

You made your way up the stairs, eyes landing on the gorgeous black gown that laid across the bed.

There were a matching set of heels and several pieces of jewelry that you were sure costed more than a house paired with it.

You walked over to the full length mirror, holding the dress to your body skeptically.

It was beautiful but you weren't sure how it was going to look on you.

You slipped out of your previous outfit, sliding the dress over your wide hips with ease. It fit perfectly of course, all your clothes did, Louis and Lestat made sure of that.

You turned to the side suddenly feeling self conscious.

It accentuated every curve, including your stomach which you hated.

Bloody tears began to pool in the corners of your eyes threatening to spill down your chubby cheeks.

You absolutely hated the way you looked and negative thoughts began to flood your mind.

Louis and Lestat were head over heels for you, you knew that, they made sure you knew that every single day but sometimes your insecurities got the best of you and tonight was just one of those nights.

They were both stunning, they had men and women falling at their feet and yet they chose you and you had absolutely no idea why. In your eyes you weren't worthy, you didn't deserve them.

"Y/n you almost ready?" Louis walked in adjusting his tie.

"Yeah." You quickly wiped your eyes trying to hide your tears.

"Aw baby what wrong?" He rushed over, pulling you into his embrace.

"This dress, i'm not sure about it, i don't think it's meant for me."

"And why in the world do you think that?" He spun you around getting a good look at you.

"I don't know, i just... i don't feel like i look my best today." You sniffled looking down at your feet.

"Hey." He grabbed you chin forcing you to look at him.

"You look stunning, where's all this coming from?" His eyes searched yours.

He didn't read your mind often out of respect for you but he just had to know what was bothering you.

"Oh baby, no, no no no, we aren't having any of that." He turned you toward the mirror, chin resting on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle.

"We picked you not only because you're beautiful on the outside." He spoke lowly trailing kisses down your shoulder.

"But because you're beautiful on the inside as well, a heart of gold, a mind so fascinating, so intriguing. There's no one else we'd rather be with." His lips met yours.

"Thank you Louis baby, i really needed that." You smiled up at him.

"Good, and don't you ever forget it you hear?" He poked your nose, accent slipping out.

"Yes sir." You purred.

"Be careful now, we might not make it to the dinner." He grabbed you by the waist pulling you flush against him.

"I swear you two are always the slowest." Lestat rambled to himself, half english, half french as he approached the bedroom.

He stopped in his tracks upon seeing you.

"You like it? Still gotta put the shoes on, it won't take long we'll be out in a sec." You fiddled with your thumbs, biting your nip nervously.

"I think we should cancel mon chér, yes?" He looked over at Louis as he readjusted his dress pants.

Wait a minute was he... was he aroused?

Your eyes widened at the realization and you and Louis couldn't help but laugh.

You were flattered.

"And why would we do that?" Louis raised a brow, smirking.

"We have more pressing matters to attend to, chérie how much do you like this dress?" Lestat walked over to you, fingers sinking into the fabric as if he was prepared to rip it.

"Hey! I don't think so, i just put this on." You slapped his hands away.

"We can get you a new one." He frowned.

"No sir, we're already late, let's go." You hurriedly put your shoes on.

He scowled helping you with your necklace.

You turned around grabbing his face, pulling him down to whisper in his ear.

"Be a good boy at this dinner and you'll get your dessert when we get back home, yeah?" You nibbled on his ear.

He shuddered nodding rapidly.

"Let's get this over with quickly." He rushed you and Louis out the door.

You laughed at his antics quickly grabbing your bag.

A/N - I’ve had so many story ideas for these two in my drafts but i was honestly scared to post them ahhhh. Anyways i hope this is received well cause i have a lot more itwv fics locked and loaded. Enjoy soft Lestat and Louis. 🌻

[musiccutiepatooty]

Stealing

You lived in a neighborhood of condos in a smaller town. You had not talked to your new next door neighbor. When you need something for your cooking, you meet Logan. After your initial stolen item, he needs something in return.

Basically, a little short meet cute about how you met Logan, and he asks for your number.

(might make this into a lil series/collection lemme know if y'all would read more)

Word count: 1.6k Warnings: none No use of y/n this time but I’ll prolly have to if I write more. Written with wolverine origin logan in mind. 

It is well past the days when people go to their neighbors to ask for baking ingredients. Except you wanted brownies, and you didn’t have enough eggs. Shoving items around in the fridge to see if an egg would magically appear, the words fell out of your mouth, "One short. I'm one short."

You had a couple of options:

Go to the store

Ask a neighbor

Not make the brownies

You didn't want to drive to the store and not having the brownies wasn't really an option. So neighbor it is. Now came the problem of which neighbor. The neighbor to the right of you was NEVER home. You can recall them saying they were headed to Fiji for their next vacation. So that left your neighbor to the left.

Sighing, you weighed your options one last time, headed next door, and knocked swiftly on the door.

It was silent for a moment and then the lock clicked. The door swung open to reveal a tall, muscled man in a white shirt and well-fitting (tight) jeans. "Yes?"

"Hi. I live next door," you rattled off your address and your name staring in the middle of his chest, "I know you just moved in and this is the opposite of a housewarming gift, but I was wondering if I could steal an egg from you." You finally craned your head up to look at your neighbor’s face. His dark hair and connecting beard gave him rugged look. You went ahead and added handsome to your list of adjectives for him.

"'Steal an egg?" His eyebrow raised slightly, and he tilted his head back to look down at you, hazel eyes holding something stern yet soft in them.

"I would say borrow but I don't exactly think I could bring it back once I use it."

The man glanced at you for another beat before turning back into his house to the kitchen. Your body rocked backed and forth from your heels to your toes, glancing into the house after him. You could see the muscles in his back ripple as he reached into the fridge. Your head snapped up to the ceiling like a child caught meddling as he returned to the door with an egg in hand.

"Your 'stolen' egg."

"Thank you..." cocking your head to the side in hopes of getting a name as he dropped the egg into your hand.

"Logan."

"Logan. Thank you" you nodded turning your back to Logan heading back over to your house and closing the door.

You cracked your newly acquired egg into the batter but all you could think about was how good Logan looked in just a simple white T-shirt he was damn near hulking out of.

You tried, unsuccessfully, to wrestle your thoughts back to the task at hand so you could get on with your day but your thoughts hung on how you felt like you were being studied when Logan looked down at you.

Thinking about Logan for the rest of the day would not be productive. And from the looks of it, your day would not be very productive.

Little did you know that Logan was having the same productivity sentiment as you, and ultimately failing to get his mind back on the tv show he was watching. He couldn’t help himself when it came to giving you a once over when he first opened the door, and when you asked to 'steal an egg', and when you were walking back to your house.

He knew that only talking to you the one time was not an option.

When he left for work the next morning, he saw a small Tupperware container with a note: "Welcome to the neighborhood:)

Returning your egg… kinda". He opened the container to reveal a couple of iced brownies.

He was not fond of people disturbing his peace. That being said, you were a sight. And he wouldn’t mind if you came knocking on his door again.

The next time you saw Logan was a couple days later in the clubhouse mailroom. Except you didn’t actually see him, which was the issue. You pulled open the mailroom door and immediately started walking out, only to collide with a warm, solid mass.

The “oomph” that left your mouth also left Logan’s. Logan, however, did not get knocked off balance and have to be caught by you.

“Woah there, bub,” Logan murmured, the hand that had not caught your falling mail shooting out and grabbing your waist to keep you from tipping backwards anymore.  The weight of his hand created a warmth that spread across your back, “come to steal some mail?” He quipped, hand giving your waist a quick squeeze ensuring you were upright.

You took your hands away from gripping Logan’s shirt, unsure of when you had grabbed it. Your face heating from both the action and Logan’s teasing. “Yes…” you sighed dramatically as you continued the bit, smiling up at him through your lashes, “unfortunately, I couldn’t get into your mailbox, so I had to settle for my own.”

He chuckled and stepped slightly aside, letting his eyes drag over your form as you brushed past him, "You may want to have this back then." Logan extended the small package and few envelopes toward you. Hand brushing yours as you took them back from him. The tiny smirk he gave you sent a tingle through your body.  "Next time I'll have to steal something of yours."

Logan continued his journey into the mailroom as you stood in the hallway for a second, shaking your head to collect your thoughts. Your body was absolutely buzzing. The only thought passing through your mind was whatever that man wants, he won't have to steal it.

Logan watched as you stood, frozen, in the hall for a moment before you shook your head and continued toward the clubhouse door.

It was a coincidence that you were both going down to check the mail. Was it a coincidence that he waited until you were exiting the mailroom to enter? Absolutely not. Had he hoped that you wouldn't notice him and bump into him? Absolutely. It was ultimately worth it to have you knock into him, though he would never admit it to anyone. 

The third time you saw Logan, good God, were you embarrassed. You were in your old and tattered lounge clothes, junk food was sprawled across the living room table, and Love Island was blasting through your television speakers

You were pulled from the drama on your screen by a knock on the door. You had ordered food and it was around when it should have been arriving. When you opened the door to reveal something you’d eat, but definitely not your food, you froze.

“Logan?!” You practically shouted his name which prompted him to say yours just as loud, “what are you doing here?” The urge to cover your body like you were completely naked overtook you. You would have preferred that to the outfit you had on; your oversized Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt that hung off of your shoulder was accompanied by your matching slippers… that squeaked when you stepped.

The clothes and snacks and trashy tv ultimately were not embarrassing… in any other circumstance. It is awkward when you’re seeing your smoking hot neighbor.

Logan, seeing you like this, for only the third time, was embarrassing. This is how you see someone you've gotten to know intimately. While you were oddly comfortable around Logan (and wanted to know him intimately), you did not know him very well.

“I need to steal some milk.” He had lowered his voice to his normal tone, somehow managing to make the statement unbelievably sexy. His eyes unabashedly raked you over once. And then. “And I have your food. I intercepted the delivery guy.”

You looked at him for a beat before moving aside and motioning him into your condo. “You can set the food on the counter.” The statement fell from your lips at a normal volume as you walked towards your kitchen, opening your fridge, with your slippers practically yelling with every step. Logan set your food on the counter near you. 

“Having a bowl of cereal?” you quizzed jokingly, willing yourself to remain calm as you stood on your tip toes to grab the flour.

The slippers on your feet let out a long drawn out squeak as you lowered from your tip toes. You could feel Logan’s eyes on your back as he let out a soft chuckle.

"That," is lips turned up as he shrugged and he continued to speak, “and I wanted an excuse to see you.” Your eyebrows quirked up at his statement. Logan let out another chuckle and looked you over once more.  You swear you saw him blush.

You could feel your heart fluttering as you stepped forward to hand him the milk. Logan looked down at you as you ended your audible steps right in front of him. You held the milk out to him with one hand holding the bottom of the carton. The man in front of you, with bold audacity, fully enveloped your hand with his to take the milk. He placed his other hand on the side as his bottom hand dragged gently across your own during the transfer of the flour to his possession.

Logan murmured a quick "thank you" followed by your name as he began to walk through the door of your condo. You went to close your door when you heard Logan clear his throat. “Actually,” he paused and looked you directly in the eyes, “I was wondering if I could steal your number. Winnie's too.”

Thanks for reading!! Open to feedback because I haven't written in like two years :) Yellow heart divider credit: @bunnysrph Grey swirl divider credit: @enchanthings

[howlingday]

Goodnight, Father

"Jaune, are you in here?"

"Over here, Weiss!" Jaune waved next to his team. Some would say he was taking advantage of his girlfriend's hospitality in using her family's ballroom for dance practice. However, those close to the couple would know better and that the room had been unused since it's reconstruction, save for the occasional charity dinners that were held once in a complete moon. "Take five, guys."

Oscar and Nora collapsed to the floor, both panting and groaning from their stretched limbs and aching lungs. Nora wasn't used to the former while Oscar was unaccustomed to the latter. Ren rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

"What's up?" Jaune asked, wide toothy shark grin on his face.

"It's a letter from your mother."

"Mom?" Jaune took the letter. Sure enough, his mother's name and address were written hastily on the outside of the letter. Slipping his finger under the sealed flap, he made a tear in the paper. Digging in, he hooked and tore more and more of the envelope until it was open.

"You do know we have a letter opener, right?" Weiss said with a hand on her hip. The smile that accompanied it fell as she noticed Jaune didn't have a response. He pulled the contents free and opened the folded message. Then Jaune made for the door. "Jaune?!"

She picked up the letter unceremoniously dropped to the floor and read the words meant for Jaune. She gave a small gasp, matching the small message delivered to Jaune.

'COME HOME'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jaune didn't buy a boat ticket. Heck, he didn't even pay for a cab! The clothes he wore to arrive at his home in Ansel were the same as when he left New Atlas three days ago. He ran across three continents and swam through both the icy and temperate seas that surrounded them just to reach home. How he wasn't dead could be attributed to his aura, but no one could really explain.

The only surprising thing that happened was when he found his team, and his girlfriend, waiting inside his home. In his panic, he forgot that air travel, as much as he hated it, was the fastest and safest way to get from point A to point B. Still, he arrived, soaking wet from sweat, rain, and sea, right into his mother's arms.

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"No." His mother poured another cup of coffee for him. He hated the stuff growing up, but he's since relied on it after his departure for Beacon. "No message. No mention. Nothin'. It's not like your father to just leave like this."

Jaune furrowed his brow. It's true that his dad wasn't the kind of guy to keep secrets. If he didn't like you, he told you to your face. In fact, he told Jaune it was a stupid idea to leave for Beacon on a whim. Still, his father loved him and supported his choice. He even said he hoped Jaune did it sooner, at least so he could get some training in.

'Ancestors'd be proud either way.' His father shrugged.

Jaune sipped his coffee. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, Jaune?"

"Was Dad... dying?"

The room got really quiet. Nora and Weiss, who were playing with Adrian, stared at him. Ren looked around and noticed the rest of the family wasn't looking in Jaune's direction. Oscar excused himself and stepped outside.

"He was, wasn't he?"

His mother nodded. "Said it was something in his blood. He said it got harder for him to sleep."

"And... he didn't tell me?"

She shook her head. "You deserved to know. I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but he said it wasn't something for you to worry about."

Jaune gripped his mug a little tighter. "Somebody should've told me."

"You're right." Saphron said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The CCT network is still being worked on, but letters can obviously still be sent. Seven sisters and nobody could tell you."

"Why?" Jaune stood up suddenly, surprising his sister. "Because it's okay for everyone else but Jaune the crybaby to know? Because he'd just cry his little eyes out over every little thing?!"

"Hey, I wanted to tell you-!"

"Enough, both of you!" Their mother yelled. She sighed and pressed a hand to her face. "Twenty years and I'm still breaking up fights." She sniffled. "Oh, ancestors, don't make me do this alone..."

Suddenly, Jaune felt like punching himself. Since he came back home- heck, even before that -he was thinking only about himself. He gritted his sharp teeth, flaring his nostrils as he looked away. Years later and Jaune was still a spoiled brat, on the verge of tears because he wasn't getting what he wanted. His mind began to fill with memories of his lifetime in the Ever After, far away from home, like he'd always-

A hand touched his. It was a delicate and soft hand, one with slender fingers that were guided by a tender heart. He looked up and saw the worried look of his love, Weiss. His self-loathing began to fade as he looked into her eyes, entranced by the icy blue that belied a warm and caring soul.

Another hand rested on his shoulder, belonging to his brother, Ren. Attached to him and looking with a smile, trying to cheer him up, was his sister-in-arms, Nora. Entering the room, offering a weaker smile was his friend, Oscar. In his gloved hand, he held a small bit of foliage.

"I... think I found something." He offered.

"Alright," Jaune gave a smile and nodded, "we've got a mission, guys. I know it's late and you all want to go to bed, but I'm not going to let this one get away. We're not getting paid more than room and board, but if you'll help me, I'd really appreciate it. Are you with me?"

"You got it~!" Nora cheered.

"To the end and back." Ren nodded.

"Wherever, whenever!" Oscar agreed.

"I'm not exactly part of this team," Weiss patted Jaune's arm, "but you still helped mine all the same. I'm with you for as long as you'll have me."

Jaune smiled at his team. Looking to Oscar, he nodded. "Where'd you find that grass, Oscar?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a long walk through the rain for Jaune and his team. The winds blew in their face, pelting rain hard enough to soak through their ponchos. Following the clues left behind, they picked up on a trail leading through the nearby woods, over a stream shifting to become a river, before finally reaching an enclosure, and beheld the beautiful sight before them.

As if untouched by the storm, a blue lake rested undisturbed in the midst of the raging storm outside of the treeline. There was enough light for them to see, despite being so close to midnight in the midst of a huge thunderstorm. Jaune crept low and touched the water with his finger, bringing it to his lips.

"Salt."

"What?" Nora asked. "Are you that hungry?"

"No, it's saltwater." Jaune said, taking his poncho off.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged his head beneath the surface. His eyes adjusted to the change in light and nearly bulged at what he saw. The lake, despite its size, was much deeper than he'd ever expected. He couldn't even see the bottom. More surprising to him, though, was what lined the walls of the lakebed.

Swords. Shields. Axes. Crossbows. All white with gilded trim, each embedded into the muddy walls of the undersea cliffs. Pulling his head up, he shook his head. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"It's..."

"A graveyard." Jaune whirled to see a man, well-aged beyond his years (even by Ever After standards), with a thick, white beard and eyes as blue as the ocean itself. He held himself upright with an alabaster cane with gilded trim, much like Crocea Mors and the weapons located underwater. "It's the Arc Graveyard, Jaune."

"Dad..." Jaune stood to his feet. Meeting his father for the first time in what could have been years, he saw how tall the man really stood compared to his progeny. At his full height, he was six foot even. Now, hunched over, he was just a few inches shorter than that, and even shorter than Jaune. Still, the gaze he held was something Jaune was all too familiar with.

Oh, sure, there was love in his father's eyes, for despite their tiffs now and again, Jaune was raised and taught by a man who did his best to teach him everything he could. Did he succeed? Jaune felt like he did, since he was still alive, and happy, and had found love with a beautiful and wonderful woman in Weiss. None of this would have happened if not for the man in front of him.

"You've come a long way, Jaune." The old man smirked. "And you reek, too. Did you bathe before coming here?"

"Technically." Jaune chuckled. "To be honest, the last time I had a bath, or even slept, was about three days ago."

"Stinky." Jaune's father chuckled. He then coughed, making Jaune drop his smile. "Your nephew loves that word. Giggles every time he hears it."

"Dad..."

"Jaune, you are my one and only son, so I know you feel like you have this idea of what you're supposed to be. Like you're supposed to be some kind of big, damn hero with forty wives and a hundred kids. And as cliche as it may sound, I never wanted you to have such an extravagant lifestyle. Or, at least, I didn't want you to feel like you had to. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and ready to be the man you had to be when someone tried to take away your happiness. And my son," a wide, toothy shark grin spread across the man's wrinkled face, "you are that happy man."

Jaune swept the man into a hug, tears pouring from his eyes as he heaved sobs into the man's shoulder. The man chuckled and wept a few tears of his own. Off to the side, watching the spectacle, the rest of group were each weeping along with the men. Finally, however, the time came for Jaune and his father to part.

"It's time, Jaune." Slipping into the water, the eldest Arc swam a few feet to the center. From there, he dove beneath the surface. Bubbles came up as he dove deeper. His shadow disappeared a few yards down. Jaune stood on the shoreline, watching, waiting, hoping that this was some elaborate hoax, as if to play a cruel trick on him. But nothing came up.

"Goodbye, Dad."

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

Fun Fact! In 2022, scientists discovered a "shark graveyard". At first, as they dragged nets across the ocean floor, they thought what they pulled up were just rocks when, actually, what they were pulling up were shark teeth. HUNDREDS of shark teeth, including recent sharks like Great Whites and more ancient sharks like, yup, MEGALODON! Since sharks are cartilaginous, only their teeth are tough enough to make it through decomposition, while the rest is consumed by scavenging wildlife.

[angy-grrr]

The good old conflict continues over Twitter. According to dudebros, apparently, we are the problem for Hori not making IzuOcha canon. But at the same time, IzuOcha is already canon in an 'implied' sense in the narrative, and that we are delusional for ''denying their canon romance''.

Some people are even trying to argue that Bakugo and Izuku don't have that much of a special bond or relationship. I mean... really? So we just gonna ignore the literal core part of the story, then?

They constantly like to bring the moments like the recent roof scene and how 'Ochako saved Deku when Deku lost control of the black whip'. Let's just ignore that Izuku lost control because someone insulted Bakugo and that Ochako couldn't stop Izuku, she had to get him be 'brainwashed'.

If the roof scene was The Moment, then they would have gone canon right and there, yet they didn't. Oh.... But, yeah, sorry. It's actually our fault that Hori didn't make the straight ship canon in his shounen manga.

When will they stop acting like the straights are oppressed?

BNHA 430 SPOILERS

it’s quite common for manga shonen series to canonize their het ships by showing something romantic without letting us know how they confessed, at least in the original work; they are often already married in a time skip, or they are shown together in the future while at least one of them (usually the woman) blushing, and this is bc of Japanese typical narration - its not driven by the need of a closed conclusion, usually it’s even better the more often it gets.

I recommend checking on kishotenketsu for more on this!

but anyways, the thing with ochako and Izuku is they don’t have any implied romantic moment which lets the intended audience to understand they are in a relationship -the only scene they have together alone in the time skip is with a small panel, which could be valid, but the snow doesn’t imply it’s Christmas (a romantic holiday) as they are wearing their uniforms and probably are still on campus and neither is even blushing or shown being typical teenagers in love, even tho is clear Izuku is still quite like “a boy at heart”, wanting to be called cool by his teacher at 25 (I don’t believe in the perspective many have of him getting all confident about romance and having a flirty attitude towards Ochako or anyone; there’s nothing implying he became that way). Even Ochako doesn’t have her usual blush!

Bc Mr. Compress is under it reading Spinner’s book, along with the melancholy of the winter with the harsher conditions but beautiful landscapes, it creates a bittersweet image in Japanese culture, as far as I know in my research. It’s not “the villains died but hey, the heteros are dating!”, but more about “Tenko and Himiko died, and there’s this memory about them that will always live. Wonder and snow is a time for reflection, with the possibility of a bright future, so Ochako and Izuku, while failing, still have hope to save complete strangers and inspire others to do the same”.

I think is more about them and the villains, everyone becoming heroes on their own by helping others no matter their “oficial status”. the funniest part? It could be more romantic and imply they are together quite easy if only Horikoshi decided to actually make them a duo and be basically destined to be together helping others if he didn’t choose Katsuki to fulfill that role. He could have just highlighted her with the suit thing, extend her hand, smile at him telling him to do his best, etc. But nah, let’s just have Katsuki tell him to come with him as a hero and imply they hold hands or extend their hands to the other even if they aren’t in need of saving.

Yeah, that’s bc he’s scared of shippers. Sure sure, whatever helps them sleep at night yk?

[shirefantasies]

Marti it is Moss *does small dance* sending in a Hobbit imagine should it strike your fancy to answer. If not feel free to delete you come first and foremost! Your blog is always a delight and i read everything you post like its the morning newspaper.

Im wondering if you would write a hobbit headcanon for a reader who uses a mobility aid like forearm crutches!

I myself use forearm crutches (named Catcher and Holder a la Dwalin) for dizziness and weakness due to neurological issues, but there are many reasons for their use from joint pain to hypermobility. Sometimes people use them all the time and other times they are only used when they have flare ups (some have to have them available all the time in case of The Return tm)

Sometimes you use one and sometimes you use two. All depends on condition severity, needs,what youre doing, and preference

Even when you have a flare up you may not prefer to use them for short distances ie in your house some people choose not to. I use mine on the steps unless im doing something hazardous and dont want to risk a fall (and be able to walk in general)which ive become prone to over the last two years.

You still live your life and do what you do sometimes its a bit different other times its not. Sometimes you have a stick or two.

You can make a lot of fun decorations and functional tools like cupholders and pouches for your crutches and stickers make them unique and customizable. Honestly the biggest challenge for me is mugs and stairs+ other two handed tasks 😩 let me see someone smack a warg protecting their bestie and then lament not planning their cuppa retrieval rofl.

Im wondering how our lads would have a time with this- not acceptance wise as i know Dwarves are very accepting. More along lines of shenanigans wholesome fun bonding the good daily stuff that you write so beautifully and capture each one of them so well!

Thank you so much and if you have any questions please feel free to reach out

🌿🏹moss🏹🌿

Hello Moss 🥰💚 OMG Catcher and Holder that's perfectttt! Sorry this post is so fuckin long in the making but hopefully you enjoy it and this captures it well! I confess I don't personally use a mobility aid at this time so I may not have the greatest frame of reference 😅 but yeah I hope you like these little moments! *does small exit dance in return*

Warnings: canon typical violence in some

Thorin's Company + Reader With Mobility Aids

Balin

“Might I ask who built that?” Polite as ever, Balin motioned to the chair upon which you had affixed a pair of wheels. “I did,” you answered, “I was the only person in my little village who needed something like this.” “Well, you are quite the craftsman. Would that you had no ties to your hometown and the Lonely Mountain could snap you up! You could see those skills built up tenfold.” “R-really? I came here to Laketown for something just like that! But I’ll confess I think you will be a far better teacher.” Winking, you gave Balin a smile he mirrored. “You’re resilient. Smart as a whip, too! It would be my honor.” “And after all,” you added, “If anyone would know how to mount a crossbow on the arms, it would be dwarves!” At that, even as polite a dwarf as Balin could hardly help bursting into a wicked grin.

Dwalin

“Nice axes.” “Forged them myself,” Dwalin answered with a nod, “Grasper and Keeper. One grasps your soul, the other keeps it.” “How funny,” you remarked, raising your forearm crutches, “I call these Catcher and Holder. Same idea only with the body. Suppose that isn’t nearly as impressive, though.” “Impressive?” Dwalin burst out. “We’ve all got our battle scars. Our wounds. Never be ashamed of that. The fact that you’re still up ‘n’ going? Be proud. I can show you plenty o’ scars myself!” At that last bit, Dwalin began lifting up his tunic to reveal toned skin paled in some places and darkened in others by all manner of scars and at that, you couldn’t help shyly laughing. Proud indeed.

Thorin

Yes, the king had not denied you entry into his company when Gandalf had recommended you, but he had raised and furrowed his regal brow in the skeptical look all but branded into your mind. He’d asked Gandalf if he was certain, and from then on the fire in your heart blazed. Certainly Thorin treated you as an equal, giving you the tasks he gave all others, but he had been yet to see you in battle and you knew that was where your proof would solidify. In fact, the first time wargs closed in upon you, you were one of the first to run back at them. Hearing the way Thorin called your name, but thoroughly ignoring it in favor of landing a solid crack upon the nearest adversary's skull. Luckily your body was having a better day anyway despite all the walking, because you spun and smashed your way through the orc pack, especially once you saw the way one bowled Bofur and Dori over. Fire took over your heart and eyes as you swung your mace until you could swing no more, all but deaf to the cracking of heads and the clattering of your allies’ blades through that pounding adrenaline. At the end of it all, Thorin approached you, his expression surprisingly mild. Then it broke into a smile. “The wizard was right about you,” he told you, clapping a hand to your shoulder, “Invaluable in all respects indeed.”

Oin

“Oh, that’s clever, that is!” “My eyes are up here,” you quipped, crossing your arms and smiling sardonically down at the dwarf bent over peering at your wheels. At that, Oin tilted his head up to look back at you, giving a raucous heh heh heh of laughter. “Never seen anything like this lot before,” he commented, shaking his head and running a hand over the frame of your chair, “You’d think dwarves’d be the first to make ‘em! ‘S beautiful.” Your lips parted wordlessly for a few moments before you spoke, head still slightly tilted. “Beautiful?” “Course!” Oin replied, smiling widely as he rose to his feet again. “A real beauty for sure. A marvel, actually. It is quite the privilege to get to see it in action!” “No one has ever told me that before,” you replied quietly, a smile spreading across your lips.

Gloin

Orcs rushed you from every side, sending you scrambling as fast as your crutches could support you. Carrying a sword aside it all was about as unwieldy as one imagined, but you knew no different. In fact, your best strike that fight had nearly taken a whole arm off. Catching sight of you, though, the nearest of your blood-spattered adversaries grinned and gave a savage kick, sending your crutches flying from beneath you. Teetering, you pitched forward, trying to catch yourself with one arm and steady your sword with the other as the shout rang out. “You think you’re so clever, you great filthy buzzard? I don’t think so!” With a savage growl of his own, Gloin flew into the fray, and with a violent swing of his axe the orc’s head was sent unceremoniously tumbling to the dirt. “Serves ‘m right, eh?” Gloin asked with a smug look as he extended a hand, helping you up, handing you your crutches, and even gently dusting you off.

Bifur

You had seen the way he glanced your way. How his eyes traced the lines of the crutches extending from your forearms, the extensions of steel that made walking less painless. And running more painless if you were a charging warg on the receiving end of a bash to the face. Bifur had seen the way you slid your arms free to motion and sign to him, indicating the interesting things seen along the road. If you had a tendency to go nonverbal, he would aid you in removing your crutches when you needed to sign. Such things had been floating in your mind when you sat by his side, asked him if he understood in a way. You certainly felt understood in his presence, after all. Bifur glanced away with haste, but still you caught notice of tears in his dark eyes, just for a moment. A moment before the smile spread across his face and he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against yours- carefully, of course, so you barely felt the brush of the axe against your joined skin.

Bofur

“Bofur!” Uncaring how earsplitting your scream may have been, you charged forward, heaving one leg before the other as fast as you could while still keeping a hand on your walker. Which was faster than even you realized, sped by adrenaline and rage and urgency all pounding through your ears. Loading your crossbow again and again, you fired three successive shots into the assailant’s side, shoulder, and finally with the last you struck his ugly head and knocked him down onto his ass. For good. Sighing heavily, you leaned for just a moment on your walker frame before making your way to Bofur’s side, this time at a less painful pace, and turned it around to take a seat. Leaning down, you reached for his hand. “Bofur, are you alright?” “I am thanks to you,” he chuckled, his hazel eyes fixed upon you fondly, “Maybe I need to get myself one of those. Seems to aid the aim, having something to lean on.” Grinning and blinking back tears, you procured a cloth and a strip of bandage and started to dab away the blood on his shoulder.

Bombur

“Hope this isn’t rude…” You were surprised by the sound of Bombur's soft voice coming from your side, turning from the journal you wrote in and setting your implements aside. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, well aware of all the 'not rude' inquiries you'd received over the years as to why you carried crutches, especially if some days you did not. However, knowing this one came from sweet Bombur softened you. He actually meant it. "...But what's the hardest part of having those?" You couldn't resist a snicker at the thought that immediately rose to your mind. "You'd really like to know?" "Yes," he nodded, "If I may." With another little snort, you smiled and told him, "Mugs." "Mugs?" "Mugs and stairs. Can't tell you the number of times I've spilled on my way up. Anything that takes two hands, really." "I see!" The conversation ended with Bombur's eyes lighting up. At least you thought it had ended... Several days later, he came shuffling up to you with that same sweetly eager glint and his hands behind his back. "I've made you something," he told you, pulling out an open cylinder of steel and unfolding another little piece from it, "Hope it works. It's a little mug holder. Go on, let's see if it fits." Snapping the little unfolding piece to your crutch, Bombur watched your face break into a grin as it remained in place. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, Bombur. Thank you." "You deserve it," he replied, smiling fondly at you.

Dori

“I wouldn’t exactly mind having one of those.” “A cane?” You arched a brow. “I’ve always thought it made you look distinguished,” he admitted with a smile. “Now that is a new one,” you commented wryly, “All for use of my leg.” “Nothing wrong with it,” Dori shrugged, “We all do what we must. Seems a shame you’ve such a plain one, though.” At that, your proverbial ears perked up. “As opposed to what?” “Well,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. Haven’t you seen all the nice silver tips and things they put on canes?” “Ah,” you nodded, “I see what you mean! It is a bit of a shame I haven’t anything to decorate mine with, isn’t it?” “Haven’t anything? What do you call this?” With that emphasized last word, Dori reached behind into his pack and procured a little silver charm, one carved richly with dwarven runes and even centered with a little green stone. Fiddling at his back more, the dwarf also found a section of string and hastily tied it to your cane’s handle. “Now what do you call that?” He asked, waving a hand over the charm. “I have a bit of luster dust if you’d like something more.” Needless to say, it was the most fun night you’d had in those endless weeks of trekking.

Nori

Raising one eyebrow at Nori, you stared in skepticism as he held a hand out and repeated his request. “Your cane, please?” “How do I know you won’t just run off with it?” You shot back. “You’re sitting,” he pointed out, “Not like you really need it. Besides, do you really think I’d be so incorrigible a scoundrel as to make off with someone’s means of walkin’ for no reason?” Nori’s gaze slid upward from your carven wood cane back to your eyes, which remained as they were. “Second thought, don’t answer that. Just trust me, hm? You won’t regret it. Dwarf’s honor.” At the invoking of honor, an action infrequently taken by Nori, your brow lowered to form a more neutral, though inquisitive, expression as you handed your cane over. You were quickly distracted by conversation from Dori as you sat, folding your hands in both complacency and content and shivering a bit in the snow. The conversation continued for some time until an ‘A-ha!’ rang out and Nori came running back up, triumphantly hoisting your cane, to which he had crudely affixed one of his many knives. “And what,” you asked, “Is this?” Nodding beyond your night’s campground, Nori indicated the ice extending across the ground. “Aid in your trek! Can’t have you slipping, can you? Not that I won’t catch ya.” He winked.

Ori

“Your sticks!” Ori gasped, brown eyes wide with horror. “Where are they?” “My crutches?” Eyebrows sliding upward in amusement, you made your way toward the young dwarf, who was stitching a sock a handful of feet away. At that, he simply nodded, repairs completely abandoned upon his lap. "Oh, I simply had no need for them today," you answered with a small shrug of your shoulders. At that, Ori gave a curious little frown. “So you can walk some days?” “It isn’t only a matter of walking,” you chuckled, “Moreso that some days my pain and balance are worse.” “Like when Gloin’s leg bothers him?” Ori asked, face turning to childlike eagerness. “Or how Bifur doesn't talk some days?" A little smile spread across your face and your chest expanded with warmth. "Yes," you agreed, "Just like that, Ori."

Fili

Mind drifting off in tandem with the pulsing ache of your limbs, you gazed at the flicker of the fire, faintly drifting smoke curling into the air from pipes and the kindling itself. Your hands idly wrung your cane until the sensation of warmth brushing your leg drew you from your empty focus spiral. Shifting your gaze, you were met with the sight of Fili sitting at your side. "Think I might need one of those after today." Following his gaze, your eyes fell back down to your hands, more specifically the cane held there. "Your own mobility aid or the other?" At your last words, Fili quirked up a golden brow. "The other?" He repeated. Smirking proudly, you slid the end off your cane, revealing a sword hidden within. “The other,” you repeated once more with emphasis, “Guess you weren’t paying attention to how I heaved so many goblins off that bridge.” “You’re right,” Fili agreed, blue eyes lighting up in the fireglow, “I do want that. How long has that been there?” “Whole time.” “Just waiting for the right moment, eh?” “Of course,” you bantered back, “Gotta make a show.”

Kili

“Can I try?” Kili smiled up at you as you blinked at him, face blank with thought. Reaching down, he pantomimed using your crutches for a step, swinging his arms back and forth. "You want to give my crutches a go?" Your eyebrows shot up, a smile building upon your face. Memories flooded your mind, deep knowledge of the struggle that nearly always comes with those first steps and even far beyond. Loosening the grip you had upon your aids, you handed them off to Kili as you took Oin's hand and allowed him to help walk and lower you onto a makeshift camp seat. Hooking his arms in, Kili stood up, adjusting his posture after several moments. He took a step, then swung them. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. Hold on." You giggled from your seat at Oin's side as Kili raised one leg, thought, brought the crutches down again and wobbled such that you were tempted to extend hands that could catch him.

Bilbo

“I was scared first, but trust me: you’ll be grateful in the end once you get on these fellows,” Bilbo told you, looking down at you as he patted the pony he sat upon. “It isn’t that,” you answered, gaze dropping from the hobbit’s, “It’s…well, it is a bit embarrassing, to be honest.” The dwarves had been sweet enough to fortify the feet of your forearm crutches, though they still could not understand why you didn’t ride. The answer, quite frankly, rose a bit of a flush to your cheeks. Bilbo must have caught this. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. Nothing of it is your fault. You can tell me. Probably better me than all those dwarves, right? I won’t tell a soul.” His voice dropped to a playful whisper for that last sentence, which though it didn’t help the heat radiating beneath your skin did open your heart and your mouth. “If I were to get lightheaded or a shock of pain riding a pony I could fall off. And...And I would need someone to hold onto me.” “Ah,” the hobbit replied, this time taking his turn to shyly gaze away, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I would be more than happy to hold you.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

[pinkpastels113]

what are some of your favorite bechloe fics

hm hm i highly recommend you (all) to check out my bookmarks on ao3 (here's the rec only version) but my top favs and the ones that make me foam at the mouth are:

you're two steps forward (i'm one step back) by @becasbelt

ANGST where beca and chloe JUST missed each other sigh bc they are idiots

hold me tight (or don't) also by @becasbelt

relatable bc like beca i am also touch starved

This is Not a Kia Commercial (But It Sure Feels Like It) by wherehopelies

this one was funny sdfgfkfh (for the older bechloe fans: REMEMBER THE HAMSTER FIC LMAO)

she used to meet me on the east side and baby, i know places we won't be found by @cheapthrillsbeca

i remember the chaos when it was being live updated lmao. first one is a roommates kinda situation where beca has to go through chloe's room to get to hers (railroad apartment) and the second one is where they are famous!! celebrities & acting and spiciness ensue!!

show me your teeth same author again!!

this one needs to be separate bc i am a mess over vampire chloe i fear and beca has some Feelings when chloe drinks her blood

this is a beautiful start (to a lifelong love letter) by thelastpoisonapple

hogwarts au featuring ravenclaw beca and actually liking magic after falling in love with chloe

blues and purple pink skies by @pulledpurplecurtains

this fic is why i'm kind of a softie for childhood friends au fics now i fear BC HELP THEY ARE EACH OTHER'S COMFORT SINCE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL and a person really can change a lot as they grow up with a certain character!!! i feel like chloe has become more snarky due to having beca as a childhood best friend :>>

Winter Dreams (Beca's Song) by @lets-talk-appella

christmas fic that actually felt magical <33

My My How Could I Resist Ya? by @ridiculously-over-obsessed

mama mia au!! i actually read this before even watching the movie lol but it is so good!

i also recommend @someone--stupid and @suituuup 's fics!!

there are DEFINITELY a lot that i have missed esp since my marked for later page is 30 pages long SDJHSGFKF and since it's been a while since i've actively searched to read bechloe fics... (i've mostly just been reading works from mutuals and kind of deviating into other fandoms) but i do hope you (and anyone else who's curious) enjoy them!! lemme know what you think

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝

[captain-joongz]

Thinking about free use husband!Joshua…

Coming home to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind while he is cooking .. kissing his neck and shoulders and teasing him until he gets hard

Making him keep cooking while you start to touch him cruelly, praising and degrading him in the same breath

And he loves it, letting you do whatever you want to him, making him submit, even though he would do it willingly, this way makes his body shake, until he has to turn off everything and stop before he collapses on the floor…

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense, maybe it does, I cant really tell im too tired 😭

- ✨

(Btw you’re gonna get that job!!)

so sorry for the delay darling, i ended up taking a little break for dinner and a shower, but now i'm back and more ready than ever to tackle this delicious scenario~

and thank you for the encouragement! i honestly don't know how to feel about the interview today, but hopefully it didn't go completely awfully haha! i have another one tomorrow afternoon, so there's more awaiting ! but that one is for an english teacher, which i think should be perfect for me <3

here's your delicious little story ✨anon <3 and as always, hard hours continue and will continue for another week !!

warnings: cursing, marking, subby Shua, handjob, cumming in pants

ooooh now, Joshua is a little bit of a wild card, isn't he? i feel that he has a strong and easy-going enough personality that people would assume he'd like to naturally lead, but also there's this air of gentleness and prettiness about him that just screams "i'll let someone take care of me", not to mention that he's a sassy little bastard

so maybe he would sometimes brat out a little, have some cheeky remarks, but deep down he just loved submitting to you, especially when you came home all fired up from a long hard day at work. oh he'd know that you'd need to get your hands on him and unwind with the fierce aura of exhaustion and frustration enveloping you

he'd at least hoped he'd be able to finish the dinner he was preparing for the two of you, but then you were in the kitchen, wrapping your hands around him in a back-hug, smushing your face into his shoulder

"hard day?"

"oh god, you don't even know. janet from accounting is being a cunt again, it's crazy."

for a few moments the chatter between you flowed without interruption, you hanging off of him and loudly complaining about a coworker that's been making your life ten thousand times harder, and he'd started to relax and focused back onto cooking

but that's what you were waiting for

the second you could feel him untense in your hold, your hands started to wander. at first only slowly caressing his sides or across his tummy, touches that could easily be read as comfort, but then your hand strayed a little too up and pressed up on his nipple just as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, both feeling and hearing his breath hitch under you

"baby..." he'd say breathlessly, trying to reprimand you but his body would already be heating up with the promises it came to understand from your hands

you wouldn't stop, for anything, busying yourself by leaving hot laving kisses to his neck and behind his ear, one hand carefully massaging his scalp and tugging at his hair while the other one slyly made its way under his t-shirt to tease his nipple without the barrier of clothing

you'd love the feeling of him tensing under you, his body going all high-strung when you'd press down on the stiff little peak and push it around with your lazy fingers, breaths leaving him in huffs and sighs every time you'd tug his hair a little harder

he'd still try to pretend to be fully focused on cooking, but it would all grow hazy in front of his eyes, his lids threatening to fall shut with every electrifying rush of lust and pleasure from your ministrations, and soon he'd start messing up - clumsy hands dropping the spoon, crushing the ingredients in his palms on every hard bite you distributed to his neck, and you'd chuckle at his plight

"what is it, baby? aren't you a little clumsy tonight?"

he'd huff at your words but say nothing, stubbornly trying to ignore you and your games - and that would only stoke your fire and provoke you into upping the ante

now sticking your both your hands under his clothes, one migrating to give attention to the other nipple while the second naughty hand travelled south until you were cupping his half-hard cock and punching a moan out of him

"Shua, baby, you're not paying attention to the food at all, i'm so disappointed. i was looking forward to your cooking all day, but you can't focus long enough to not burn it..."

"don't be so mean" he'd whine and you'd tsk at him

"is that any way to talk to me?" gripping him harder, you'd love the way he'd groan under you, hands abandoning the utensils to grip at the counter, but you'd quickly grab them and push them back to the pot

"go on, baby, cook for me if you want my praises"

and Joshua would give it a valiant try, he really would, stirring the food in little aborted motions while you rolled his nipples between your fingers and kissed at the bitten and marked skin of his neck, hand massaging and squeezing the growing bulge in his pants, and the kitchen would be full of the sounds of hissing cooking food and his little sighs and breathless moans

but he'd know it's game over town the moment your hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock. the skin on skin contact was almost enough to send him crashing to the ground, knees buckling and knocking into each other with the surge of pleasure. and yeah, he definitely didn't even see what he was doing anymore, head tipped back and whines spilling out with every slow measured stroke on his cock

you'd see his hands shaking on the utensils, you'd see how he'd start losing focus, not moving them anymore, instead jerking his hips in tiny little circles to fuck into your hand - and of course you'd still him and tell him he needed to do better - and of course he'd moan at that, his cock jumping in excitement

"i c-can't, fuck, wanna cum please-" you'd recognise the tell tale signs he was close, the way he'd squeeze his eyes shut while his mouth fell open, the way his whines got more and more high-pitched and his hips shook as he supressed the need to pump them into the tightness of your fist

"go on, baby, you've been such a good boy for me"

and that would be all it took for him to frantically start turning the stove off, barely managing to catch onto the counter before the combined stimulation of you biting his ear and squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock sent him over the edge and he came in his pants, shaking in your arms with soft cries

Shua would turn to jelly in your embrace, barely even holding up on his own two feet while the half-cooked food cooled down on the stove, but it would be hard to pay attention to anything else except for his body thrumming with the release and the gentle kisses and praises you whispered into his lips for listening to you so well

divider by @cafekitsune

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 16

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Hello! Another day, another chapter!

I really don't have much to ramble about today, but I am back on my tea. This is a new one from the ren faire this year- vanilla chai with sugar and milk. The cup is from the same ren faire (but purchased last year).

let's go let's let's go- I am already impatient to get into this chapter.

Last chapter we ended on a cliffhanger with Luo Binghe totally unconscious- we start this chapter with Shen QIngqiu ready to rescue his man and escape!

It's really so upsetting that he is going back to trash (two bar) spiritually energy in this body when he was so used to his mushroom Unlimited Power p65

RIP Luo Binghe's skull LOL he is really being tossed around like a rag doll. SQQ needs to be more careful. p66

MXTX said forget the only one bed trope, I raise you -> There Was Only One Coffin p67

Fuck. This is actually so scary 10/10 I would pee myself if a little skeletal arm was worming it's way into the coffin I was temporarily occupying (really anything in this book's reality would make me die of fright. as an aside I was talking to my partner about this while watching MDZS donghua yesterday, in the world of cultivators I would be a dumpling stall owner. I could never with the sword training and literal corpses). pp67-68

I CANT 'extenuating circumstances'. SQQ definitely: I just HAD to kiss his cute little forehead to save our lives. p68

i'm crying LOL "a person's abdomen is supposed to be the softest spot on their body, but Luo Binghe's was uncomfortably hard against Shen Qingqiu's stomach. The farther down he pulled him, the more he was sure that Luo Binghe had an eight-pack. Was that a rock slab down there?" p70

this keeps getting worse LMAO

OOOOO Meng Mo is back! Is it weird that I kind of love this guy? He has such a cool power and is a bit of a dick, but in the best and worst of ways. Him and Airplane give similar energy and I am not mad about it. p72

oh gosh! LBH is either "fatally ill" or "close to death" p72

wait- adding to the above point. he could also be mentally very unwell :( poor buddy -> it's likely this option. p72

so even though SQQ is processing nothing , I think SQQ admitting (not naming the feeling but admitting) that he is feeling a mess of emotions about Luo Binghe is a big step for him! p73

Meng Mo seems to have a lot of feelings about LBH. I am not sure if it's just pride or what but whatever it is he is correct here, "The way this elder sees it, he (LBH) should either kill you (SQQ) or do you!" p74

PLEASE OH NO

I AM WHEEZING

+1000 Protagonist Satisfaction Points for touching LBH's "Heavenly Pillar" p76

IM DYING OH NO

WHY IS THIS EVEN A THOUGHT IF HE THINKS HE'S STRAIGHT "He couldn't exactly help Luo Binghe jerk off under these circumstances, right?!" p76 But like if not these circumstances he is cool with doing it in other circumstances???????????

oh no! SQQ blocking the blades with his bare hand for LBH p79

Dang. the Old Palace Master has been through some shit. p80

Are we getting more of Shen jiu's story??? We have Qiu Haitang here too! p81 (just as an aside because my notes did not revisit this, we do not get more of his story just weird little hints. That I hope Shang Qinghua clears up later). p81

What a terrible combo. Old Palace master is just butthurt Luo Binghe doesn't want him as a teacher or to marry his daughter and Qiu Haitang seems to be just a vile woman with a grudge against SQQ for some reason. pp82-83

Okay but as horrible as OPM is, that cultivation he's doing with his voice is kind of cool. p85

Wait. Did the Old Palace Master have a thing for Su Xiyan? This is so fucking weird for LBH and he's not even conscious pp86-87

reading further the above point got so much worse omg :(((((((((((( I'm so upset for Su Xiyun. p87

It got even worse with the implications of what it meant for Luo Binghe in that sect. That terrible terrible man deserved that horrifying death. Fuck that guy! pp 89-90

OMG SQQ, basically half dead carrying LBH, barely got away from the death flower room, and here we have Tianglang-jun back on his bullshit. p94

SQQ is in such a bad state :o pp94-95

Is this another dime??? Our demon blood piggy bank for SQQ is now at $0.40 p97

YAY! Luo Binghe is awake! (is he going to be okay mentally though??)p 99

Why is Luo Binghe so mad? Like this man just nearly died trying to get you the fuck out of there p100

Fucking finally okay, it got better LBH is realizing what SQQ did while he was unconscious pp102-103

I'm glad they cleared that up (even though there was the other added miscommunication about LBH thinking SQQ was crying when he was actually just in a fuck ton of pain). p104

I am actually so glad that the discussion was interrupted before LBH found out about the dick touching being real LOL p108

MORE DEMON BLOOD. -> SQQ's dime bank is at $0.50

How many times does this man get kidnapped?

We really ended with him being kidnapped again and with Luo Binghe being conned by his own dad. That was so rough. -500 dignity points (not really but it sure feels like it)

[yuseirra]

onk spoilers (161)

Sorry, I really can't keep quiet about this because this series has been my brainrot for the past couple months and this is pretty..;; hehe.. depending on how it plays out, it will determine how I'll feel about this entire work completely. So bear with me for the next few weeks!

There are a few panels that really stand out in terms of expressions that really bug me, this guy could be acting. Putting the rest in the read-more, I'm vagueposting but still, I feel it's better manners to do so.. I'm sorry for being unable to keep to myself. I hope you understand though, I've been drawing something for this series almost every single day!

There are a few really genuine-looking ones and those.. could be interpreted as him being concerned over Aqua, it's not really my wishful thinking because he's actually persuading his son to think of things he must live for, regardless of what thoughts and intent he has behind it. He DOES want Aqua to live, and when Aqua says he'd give up on that, he has the exact same face he had when he fell in despair in the movie arc (when Ai said she'd leave him/when Airi gaslit him). I think that expression IS real. And he's really shocked when Aqua.. yeah, does what he does. So I don't think he likes the idea of Aqua dying.

I've been looking at this character a lot, and came to a conclusion that his smiles are masks. I've mentioned this a few times in my earlier analyses regarding him and in one post, I wrote:

That smile he floats is consistent through the entire time he's shown in the story and the only times it breaks is when it has to do with Ai and when she sees him through. And it starts to break the moment he sees her talking about him. Every expression he makes when he sees Ai in the video are his true feelings. His smiles, on the other hand, are his coping mechanism and are all masks.

so I actually feel this is the case this time too, the author wouldn't have made this guy a genius actor who's TAUGHT Ai to act for nothing... The whole chapter starts out with his expression being expressionless, then forming a smile, just before he starts saying everything onwards. And by doing this, he IS actually talking to his son to forget about killing him and go on living his own life while sounding pretty evil...

but that means we can't believe the god or whatever she says either, so that's why I don't know. She was wrong about Ryosuke and "a middle school boy" having gone to the hospital once if Kamiki never went and it was really Nino, but would she be TOTALLY off in this case? I have no idea. That's what makes it confusing for me and have a lot less hope on how things will unveil, but the expression cues do say something... if it weren't for her, I'd say he's acting.. but the things she mentions about him are just too...that of a third-rate villain and it's so nonredeemable. If that is right, the whole idea of Ai having wanted to help him is sort of thrown out the window. They DIDN'T need to make her say that... it was so WISE of her to leave a guy like him, and all her visions of him were wrong, you know?

So I'm just.. wondering how much we need to trust the crow.

I thought I could trust her, but how much does she actually know?;

Or maybe it IS true that Kamiki's done some hideous things the way she's depicted it, and yet he doesn't want his SON to be the same way.

If there's one thing I can pick up from this chapter that's going to be released... it'd be that Kamiki doesn't want Aqua to die. He thinks there's many reasons for Aqua to go on living. If you pay careful attention to his speech, that's what he's actually talking about... he actually looked a little relieved when Aqua agrees he has a lot to live for and that breaks when Aqua still refuses.

Yeah.. I think.. I'll stick around a bit more actually. The part that REALLY bothers me is what Tsukuyomi says, if that's really true.. ehh.....it's a huge let-down for me I don't like that. It's not a very good way to use this character. It's really dumb and I don't think it works but if the author says so; okay?? but I won't feel the need to collect the physical volumes any further if that's true. That's just me though.

[sweetladymoon]

I was so happy to read your explanation on Lando and Oscar, tysm!! 🥰✨🌸 can you explain to me what is going on with Logan Sargeant? I may have no idea who that is but i am very interested in The Tea, and i am always happy to defend someone who deseves it lol

Have a great day!! 🌸✨💙💙

Oh absolutely I can! This is gonna be a long one so grab a snack!🤭💗🫶

Logan Sargeant is a driver that a lot of people had really great expectations for. He excelled in the feeder series (F4,F3, F2, basically the series you drive in before you get into F1, even though driving in these series does not mean you are guaranteed a seat in F1). Logan was very close to winning the F3 championship and was also the first American to ever win a F2 race. Here’s a link to a Twitter thread about his junior racing career in case you’re interested in details:

He was driving for the Williams Academy at the time and in 2023 he got promoted to a F1 Seat with Williams. Many people question if he was taken out of F2 too soon and tbh I do think so. He could have used some more experience and maybe then we would have seen a different F1 career from him.

As a side note: Williams is not a top team. They used to be really good in the 80s and 90s and even won the Constructors Championship 9 times in total but had a bit of a fall off since then. The biggest issue for them is money. They don’t have the same kind of cash as the top teams which means they can’t develop their car at the same speed as other teams and also can’t upgrade it as regularly. They’re not fighting for wins or even podiums at the moment but mere points. Logan’s rookie season wasn’t great tbh. He made mistakes, he crashed and was also a bit unlucky throughout the season. At the end, he managed to score only 1 point which brought him to the bottom of the driver’s standings (with that 1 point he also became the first American driver to score points in F1 in 30 years though…so small wins I guess).

He got a lot of backlash from the fans and media and many wanted to see him gone from the sport. Williams however decided to keep him around for 2024. His fans hoped that this season would go better than the last and that he’d finally be able to prove his worth, but it was evident from very early on that Williams didn’t care that much about him and wouldn’t keep him around for 2025 no matter what he did. The team principal, James Vowles, played a big part in this. He kept badmouthing Logan to the media and, according to Logan, also did not give him feedback after races. Vowles would praise Logan’s teammate Alex Albon and then go on to talk about how if Logan wanted to keep his seat he would have to start performing in a similar matter which was unfair for many reasons. For one, Alex has been in F1 longer and has far more experience. Secondly, they weren’t even driving equal cars for most of the season. The 2024 season so far has been all that good. The car was pretty bad, but Logan’s in particular was nothing more than a glorified shopping cart. They couldn’t afford to update both cars, so they gave Alex the better car while Logan drove a car that was overweight and used spare parts from the previous season. However, JV never communicated this clearly when talking to the media, so a lot of people just believed that Logan was underperforming.

And tbh even when Logan was driving the inferior car he was not that far off from Alex’s times, so JV’s comments were also quite unnecessary. They started having equal cars from Silverstone (12th race of the season) on and Logan managed to finish P11 which is still outside of the points but was a huge improvement from previous races. But even that didn’t impress JV and that point everyone had kind of already accepted that he would be no longer on the grid the following year. Personally, I suspected as much since the race in Melbourne (3rd race). When Alex crashed his car during a practice session, Williams couldn’t repair the car because they didn’t bring a spare chassis. They knew they could only compete with one car and decided to give Logan’s car to Alex for the weekend, which was quite unfair of course seeing as Logan didn’t make a mistake and still had to suffer. It also showed that Williams and JV in particular had no faith in Logan’s abilities at all.

During the summer break it was announced that Logan would be replaced the following season, which didn’t surprise anyone but we thought we’d at least get to see him finish out the season…well we didn’t. He returned for a single race after the break. During a rainy practice session, he lost control of the car and had a really nasty crash. The car was a wreck and even caught fire. Logan was thankfully okay but had to start the race the following day from the back of the grid. He once again didn’t score points but I still think Zandvoort was one of his most impressive races still. Two days later, it was announced that he would be replaced for the rest of the season.

Many thought the crash and the cost that came with repairing the car afterwards were the reason for letting him go early but JV pretty much said that this wasn’t factored into the decision. They fired him because they thought they finally had managed to bring the car to a level for points to be a possibility and they didn’t believe that Logan had the ability to score any…which once again must’ve felt like a slap in the face for Logan.

They replaced him with Franco Colapinto who had until that point still driven in F2. Many questioned the decision of replacing an inexperienced driver with an even more inexperienced driver, especially because Williams’ aim was to fight for points. Alex expressed his sympathies when asked about the decision. He also made sure to point out that he thinks Logan is incredibly talented, has the pace, and will succeed in whatever he’s going to do next. (Here's also the lovely goodbye post he made) Oscar who was his teammate in F3 and drove against him in F2 also talked about how Logan could never show his true potential in F1 and how he is one of the quickest guys he ever drove against.

JV on the other hand talked about how he thinks Logan has reached his potential and basically said that he’s not good enough which is just a shit thing to do. You already fired him, what more do you want? JV has been acting highly unprofessional in many regards btw and so many comments he’s made (also about other drivers and situations) have been plain weird.

Franco has been doing really well. He even managed to score 4 point in his second F1 race in Baku, which was also the first race of the season in which both Williams cars scored points. Instead of just focusing on how good he’s doing for a rookie however, everyone keeps comparing him to Logan. Fans, media, even the commentators during the race keep bringing up Logan and how much worse he did compared to Franco without acknowledging that they never drove the same car. We’ll never know how Logan would have done in this version of the Williams, just like we’ll never know how Franco would have done in the earlier part of the season when the car was still shit. The comments are just unnecessary. You can compliment and praise a driver without dragging another driver’s name through the mud.

Logan has been pretty quiet since he got fired. There was a statement posted on his app but it got deleted soon after. We know he’s currently in the US with his girlfriend, friends and family which I’m relieved about. He looked really down in so many of his interviews. I can’t imagine the strain it must have taken on his mental health to not only have the media and fans against you but to also have your team (aka the people who are supposed to support you) talk about how disappointing your performance is. While I do miss him on the grid I’m almost glad he was able to leave this toxic environment behind.

He was spotted at the last IndyCar race of the season in Nashville that he was invited to by his best friend who drives for Andretti. There have been rumours all year if he might join IndyCar as well next season. Yesterday it was announced that he’ll do a test drive with Meyer Shank Racing in November. While they have no more available seats for next season, it will still be an opportunity for him to showcase his abilities and might open up some doors with other teams who are still looking for drivers to sign. A few haters have once again spouted bullshit and tried shit talking him but I’m just trying to be optimistic and hope that the whole IndyCar business will work out for him and that he’ll find a team who’s willing to support him the way he deserves.

I hope I didn’t bore you to death but that’s pretty much all there is to the whole Logan situation.😅 After all the unfair treatment and hate he’s been subjected to his fans have become even more protective of him. Also look at him. How could anyone be mean to this guy🤧:

[icycoldninja]

Hiii!! I really like your writing and I always look forward to your posts!!!! ∩^ω^∩

Picture this, DMC boys with an s/o who knits/crochet 🧶 The reader is very nifty with yarn and makes the boys gifts.

Dante seems like he can rock some knit gloves as he’s fighting demons. He has a little collection from experience of his gloves ruined after his missions.

Vergil seems he uses little bookmarks his partner makes, or a blanket while reading.

Nero is a little harder, tbh I see him swinging around a crochet axe or sword laying around. That or a scarf, idk 🤷‍♀️

V is the hardest I can think of, but I think a sweater/cardigan would suit him. Buddy looks cold 24/7 and he’ll be swaddled with shadow and griffon made a lil sweater during the winter months.

I can just picture the guys having to deal with a bunch of yarn n tools around their shared place w their partner. Ever since I’ve started knitting, yarn has become my whole personality 👵

Aww thank you. Sorry I've been so inactive lately, and for the fact that I had to close requests, but I hope you enjoy all the same! Knitting sounds fun tbh, glad u enjoy it

Sparda boys + V x Knitter!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Constantly makes fun of you and calls you a grandma--in a fond way.

-He does indeed have a collection of knit gloves that you made him, and that fall apart after one mission because of all the roughhousing he does.

-He also has a collection of knit socks, mostly used as backups for when you put all his other sweaty socks into the wash.

-Once sat on one of your knitting needles and got PTSD that he will carry until the end of time.

-Cannot open your closet without worrying about the 800 rolls of yarn that will inevitably fall out onto him, so he bought a giant set of drawers for you to store them in.

-When winter rolls around, you guys will be very warm in your knit sweaters.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil loves to sit around and read. He loves it even more when there's a nice blanket to snuggle up in.

-He has ordered you to knit him 5 of these comfy blankets so he has extras in case something *cough* Dante *cough* happens to the other ones.

-You joke that he's finally acting his age, doing old man things. He replies, saying you're prematurely aging into a granny. Any minute now, you'll need dentures. It's all in good fun, nothing personal.

-He likes your crocheted bookmarks because not only do they remind him of you, they are also very beautiful.

-He carries a whole bunch of them with him for no explainable reason.

-Once got his foot tangled in all your yarn and nearly tripped. To this day, he silently thanks his lucky stars that no one saw him.

□ Nero □

-Nero never thought much about knitting and what things one can knit until you gave him a very warm scarf.

-Now he refuses to go anywhere without that scarf--it's basically a safety blanket to him.

-He saw you trying to crochet weapons and figured he'd try them out. Even though he probably wouldn't be able to kill a demon with them, they're still fun to have around.

-When Dante and Vergil come over, they end up throwing these crocheted weapons at each other during their inevitable arguments, so Nero suggested hiding some in strategic locations throughout your house.

-He has you knit sweaters when the weather gets colder, but you went overboard, so now there's a huge trunk of sweaters and blankets in your closet.

-He takes you to the craft store every weekend to pick out new supplies.

● V ●

-V is a frail little thing who should be clothed in the finest raiment.

-So, you made him a sweater. However, you sorely miscalculated how large the sweater would have to be, and now it looks like he's wearing a dress.

-Not like he cares; this means there's room for his familiars (or you) to snuggle up in.

-Shadow loves to pull on loose threads and play with your yarn rolls. Oftentimes, this results in a huge mess.

-V would love it if you could knit him shirts or socks to go with the sweater. He loves being all cozy and warm.

-Crocheting some toys for Griffon and Shadow wouldn't be a bad idea either--maybe this will save your precious yarn rolls from being unraveled.