#instead of brushing them off as unrealistic

[notsodelirious]

By the seashore

synopsis: you and Dick get curious about each other

notes: NSFW MDNI, also unrealistic sex, like super unrealistic (like last time, if you’re fucking a monster, you deserve a little elasticity) and no gender mentioned but the reader has a cunt, so do with that what you will

tags: ambiguous relationship, p in v, mermaid sex, small moment of dubcon, oviposition, mer!Dick Grayson, wc: 2.5k words

@whistle1whistle (I know it’s been over two months, but just in case you were still interested <3)

I have nothing to say for myself just enjoy

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

 “Do mers have sex?” Dick looked up from the beads he was threading. He was lying on the rocky shore, halfway pulled out of the water, fins and tails still submerged in the clear tide pool. 

The sun shone behind you, warm against your back and shoulders, keeping the water a comfortable temperature. It was midday but the tide pool was roughly a dozen miles away from the public beach so it was deserted, not a soul around aside from the two of you.

“Umm, yes?”

“Huh,” you offered him more beads as you uncrossed your legs, dipping them into the water. 

“You sound surprised.”

“I mean I guess I just expected you to reproduce like fish, you know?”

“Should I be offended?” Dick snorted as he handed you a particularly beautiful pearl—you accepted it gratefully. 

“You said I looked like a horse when we first met.”

 It had been a while since you’d first met—back when you’d first started surfing, one miscalculation had you drowning in a riptide. 

To this day you knew that you wouldn’t be here without him. 

It had been easy to keep your mouth shut about how you’d survived—mysteriously washed up in a cove just a couple of miles from the main beach, people chalked it up to luck. 

Luck had a funny tail and pretty eyes. 

 “I still think you look like a horse.”

“Well I think you look like a dick.”

“Oh haha,” you ducked as his tail flicked up, spraying you with ocean water, “You’re so funny. You could even say you’re horsing around.”

You froze. 

Glared at him. 

You kicked water in his direction, but he just laughed, showing off sharp pearly white teeth. 

“I actually hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Dick slid over to you, abandoning the waistbeads he was threading, resting his arms on your lap instead. His hands were so careful as they held onto your thighs, carefully not to let sharp claws sink into soft malleable skin. 

You shivered at the feeling of wet skin pressed against your own. 

“You know,” he said softly, “I could show you.”

“Show me?” you echoed as you ran your hand through his hair—it looked unfairly luscious and dark for somebody who spent most of his time in salt water. 

“How mers have sex.”

“It’s not like sharks is it?” you teased, but the curiosity was still there—mers weren’t mammalian creatures but they weren’t fish either. 

They were an odd in-between that had never been studied. 

And you never wanted to study them—but that didn’t mean it didn’t leave you wondering.

“Nothing like that,” he laughed as he moved his hands to push himself out of the pool, his face hovering just inches away from yours—water cascaded down his form, leaving his tan skin glistening softly in the sun. “It can’t be that different from humans, right?”

“Well I couldn’t tell you,” you said softly as you cupped his face, brushing your thumb along his bottom lip, watching as they parted softly for you. “I’ve never had sex with a mer.”

“Never had sex with a human either,” he breathed against your thumb. You hummed, pulling your thumb away just enough to see the entirety of his pretty face again.  

You gently guided him away from you, just enough so you’d have the space to pull your shirt or shorts off and part your thighs for him. 

You heard him inhale softly. 

“Why is it so far back?” he asked after a moment and a surprised laugh slipped from your mouth. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well it’s just-” You moaned softly as cold fingers brushed against your folds, pet them carefully, parted them to reveal your opening. “It’s like, right under you.”

“Yeah, it is,” you laughed again, softer this time—given a little more time to process his confusion, it became endearing. He sounded almost concerned. “Do you like it?”

“Can I taste it?” he asked as he looked up at you through dark wet lashes while he sank back down into the water, between your knees. “Would that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you parted your legs further, “You can taste. Just… watch the teeth?”

Dick chuckled softly as he grabbed your thighs, pushing them open a little further to lay his eyes on his food. 

“I won’t bite,” he promised. He gently grazed his teeth along the inside of your thigh, making you shiver, but he held strong as you flinched. 

Oh fuck.

You were well and truly at his mercy. 

 You leaned back on your hands as you watched him sit between your thighs. He tugged you a little closer to the edge before licking a long stripe up your slit. 

“Mmh!” Your head dropped forward as he continued to softly lap at you, curious and searching. 

His tongue was so mobile it made your toes curl. You were panting before you realised it, half-aborted motions to roll your hips against his tongue. 

He devoured you as you grew wet, just as eager as he was exploratory. His tongue prodded your entrance, making you moan softly, muffling the rest of your sounds in your hand as he pushed it further. 

Your eyes rolled back and you keened as you were stretched out slowly on his tongue, with nowhere to run but further onto his tongue. 

“Dick,” you moaned, “So close, so-”

He pulled back, just enough to suck and lick at your clit. In retrospect you were glad your little corner of the beach was empty for the way you screamed, clutching Dick’s hair until you finally came all over his face, soaking him in your pleasure. 

He pulled away from you, recognising your trembling for the overstimulation that it had become. 

“You taste good,” he said before licking his lips and holy shit, that had been inside of you.

You don’t think you had ever really acknowledged how disproportionately long and thin it had been. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he reached up to cup your face. You recovered, shaking your head before leaning your cheek into his palm. 

“Yes,” you smiled, “Fine. Great in fact, thank you.”

Dick huffed as he brushed his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“Didn’t realise humans got so wet,” he teased as he looked down between your legs. 

“Do mers not get wet?” the question sounded idiotic as soon as you said but thankfully Dick didn’t actually comment. 

“Less so,” he hummed as he let his hand fall away before gently helping you a little further down closer to the water. “More like…”

He grabbed your hand, guiding it down to the soft underside of his tail. You could feel where the skin softened just the slightest bit, where there was a little give. 

Trailing your fingers over the spot had Dick panting, pressing his head against your shoulder. You gasped when your finger accidentally slipped into his slit, warm and sticky as Dick squirmed. 

You watched his body, watched the slow roll of his hips as he urged your fingers to explore just a little further. 

“Does this hurt?” you asked softly, watching him shake his head as you dragged your fingers across the opening, that most definitely wasn’t there before. 

“No,” he shook his head, shaking droplets from his wet hair. “Here, just-”

He guided your fingers, keeping your movements slow until you were kindly coaxing his cock out from his slit. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed as you loosely fisted him, watching the way he shivered and moaned. It was so warm, so unlike his skin which was cold to the touch. 

It didn’t look human in the slightest, in fact you’d be concerned if somebody’s cock pulled towards the same shade of blue as Dick’s did—it tapered towards the tip too, which fascinated you.

He caught your wrist, looking up at you with wide, teary eyes.

“Give me a second,” he pleaded, and you released him almost immediately, “Sorry, I’m just sensitive-”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, “You’re really pretty—it just surprised me. Sorry, I don’t know where I expected it to be.” 

“Where else would it go?” Dick chuckled as he brushed his nose along your jaw, kissing tender skin softly. 

“I dunno,” you mumbled, feeling a little warm from embarrassment and lust, “Humans just have it… like, out.”

“Always?” You nodded as you looked down, gaze flicking between him and his dick. “You can touch me now if you want.”

“Do all mers self-lubricate?” Your fingers brushed against his tip, gauging his reaction before properly wrapping your hand around him. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed as he nodded, his breathing deepening slightly as you began to move again. 

“Generous.”

Dick laughed and pulled you a little closer to the water, until your hips were level, “I’m more concerned about the fact that humans just always have their dicks out—what if somebody attacks them?”

“I-” you blinked at him in disbelief before falling into a fit of giggles. 

“Or it gets caught on something?”

“We wear clothes!”

“Still sounds terrifying.”

“Rest assured, most people have intact dick and balls.”

“Human balls are external too?”

You lost your grip as you laughed into his shoulder, letting an absolutely distraught merman hold you. 

“How are you not extinct?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled, cupping his face with your clean hand, bringing the other to your lips—you licked it clean, slowly, savouring Dick’s arousal. “Just fuck me?”

His eyes followed your tongue as you licked yourself clean and a grin etched across his face. 

“Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

 The water was nice around your legs as you were slowly lowered closer to Dick. 

He dragged his cock through your folds, making you instinctively buck your hips in return—he kissed your temple, wrapped his arms around your body. 

“Ready?”

You nodded, burying your face in his neck as he finally pushed into your wet pussy. 

You moaned softly, cunt gently spasming around his large cock, struggling to accept his morphology—it was thicker, longer, more intrusive than anything your poor fuckhole was meant to handle—it tickled against your cervix, making you moan and tremble, as his cock squirmed in you, determined to push his thin tip into your tight opening.

“Okay?”

“You’re so much bigger than you look,” you mumbled between breaths. You eventually pulled away a little to look up at him. “Okay, I’m good.”

The beginnings of movement were slow at first, like he was taking his time discovering your body too, petting your thighs, his eyes focused on your glistening pussy, fascinated.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled softly as he undulated his hips, water softly sweeping across your body as he rocked into you, thrusting his cock in and out of you over and over again, stretching you out, carving a space out for himself. He brushed his fingers along the bump in your belly, fascinated every time he made it return, ignoring how you moaned and babbled for him.

“Are you all so soft?”

You looked up at him, slightly dazed and flustered.

“I’m-” you panted as you tried to find words, but he shifted his hips, just enough for you to reach heaven for moment, “Dick… fuck, you’re-”

Your eyes rolled back slightly as he increased his pace, the sound of wet skin on scales echoing as he bounced you on his cock, smearing fluids everywhere. You reached down to touch your own clit, moaning his name loudly, rocking back against him as his dick bullied itself deeper and deeper into you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Dick mumbled as he gripped your waist, petting your sides, cold hands dimpling your skin—hesitantly, he replaced your fingers on your clit with his own, making you keen and whine like a bitch in heat.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you breathed as he rubbed your clit, his hips slamming into you faster and faster until you were squirting all over him, drenching his scales in your cum, making him gasp in elated surprise.

He didn’t stop fucking you as he reached his fingers up to taste them, long tongue slipping between sharp teeth to lick your slick off his skin before he was shoving his tongue down your throat instead, forcing your now limp, overworked body to accept his throbbing cock.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if it had been a mistake, underestimating how long he could actually fuck you for. Until you passed out? Your body twitched softly in his grasp, quickly working its way back to an orgasm, his cock squirming like it had a mind of its own, swelling and throbbing.

“Dick,” you mumbled as you panted, flustered and exhausted, staring up at him as he stared where your body connected.

“I’m here, love, right here.”

He slammed into your hips a couple more times before he buried himself as deep into your pussy as possible, the narrow tip of his cock nestled past your cervix, just in the opening of your womb—it was wildly uncomfortable but not yet painfully.

 You simply breathed as you waited for Dick, to finish, pull away, call it a day and disappear back into the ocean, when you felt it—his cock swelled a little more before a viscous liquid pearled from his cock to be deposited into your bare womb, like thick syrup. You heard him grunt before his cock swelled again and the facts finally slotted into place.

Eggs.

He was laying clutches of eggs in your warm body, slowly stuffing your body with tiny mer eggs, no bigger than a pearl no doubt. The small bulge in your tummy grew, until it was firm and near painful, your body stuffed full of hundreds of little eggs—you ran your fingers across your skin, feeling the little bumps when you pressed down.

“Feel so full,” you mumbled as you dropped your head but Dick caught it before kissing your face kindly, your nose, cheeks, lids—he was so soft in his affection, you almost teared up. He treated you as if you had been his lifelong love, his cherished lover, like you were the moon and the stars and the entire night sky and he couldn’t love you any more. He cradled you against his cold body but by that point, you had stopped shivering, the sex still lingering, tingling and warm in your limbs.

“Shh, you did great. You were perfect.”

“Are they… are they gonna grow?” you mumbled as you tucked your face against his neck, staring down at your stuffed belly. You felt him shake his head, small droplets scattering across your shoulders.

“Can’t fertilise them,” he said, almost dejectedly, as if mad his own body couldn’t fulfil more than what it had grown to do. Part of you wondered what that truly meant, the other, bigger part of you simply too tired to care at that point, full and satiated and on the brink of sleep. “You can’t fall asleep here.”

Dick shook your shoulder gently, laughing as you grumbled and glared at him. 

“At least get back on the rocks so you can dry off properly.”

You grumbled more but agreed, slipping off his cock and letting him help you out of the pool, sinking onto the sun-warm rocks. 

“Wake me up when the sun starts to set.”

“Sure thing, love,” a cool hand brushed over your forehead, “Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

 (“So, it wasn’t that different, right?”

“The eggs were definitely a surprise.”

“Oops—probably should have figured.”)

 •─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

I think mers are ovoviviparous, but one party lays eggs into a second party, and then a third fertilises them—why did I come up with such a complex system? Because I get to make the rules to my silly little fantasy world—anyway, that’s what’s happening here

Hope you enjoyed this nonsense, here’s Jason’s monsterfucker fic (werewolf) and here’s my masterlist along with my wips list <3 (requests are currently closed as I work through my current projects)

[kirbychar]

I went through my mom tag yesterday and im so upset i rlly need to talk to my parents abt things they said and didnt say to me as a kid and teen bc wtf reading this now im so upset.. she’s always been like this.. i was 14 i was 15

[tasteracha]

everything for your golden touch.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: fem!reader (reader is called good girl), slight restraint, new kink discovery, unprotected sex. smut - MINORS DNI.

synopsis: you didn't know how to tell minho you wanted him to pin your wrists down and ruin you.

you love minho. you love every single thing about him, from the freakish facial expressions that he makes when he wants to annoy you to the soft sound of his voice when he’s talking to his cats. you loved him so fierce that you ached with it, the knowledge that he is yours inflating your head to the point of almost bursting.

you loved having sex with him almost as much as you loved loving him. you craved the way he would untangle your body with his fingers, the dark and twisted way his eyes would bore into yours as he slid into you, the near animalistic way he would drive into you when he was close to his high.

and yet, your greedy little mind couldn’t help but want something else. despite the love and care and attention he gave you so freely, you held this small bundle of disappointment deep inside of you, locked away and begging to be set free: 

you wanted him to pin your wrists down - to the wall, to the bed, behind your back, anything. you wanted to see the veins in his hand bulge from holding you down, you wanted bruises painted on your skin for days that you could look at as evidence of his passion for you. you wanted to be rendered immobile, you wanted to thrash around with no chance of escape

you think about it more frequently than what is probably normal; when you try to not think about you end up thinking about it more, and it turns into this vicious cycle that you can’t leave. in bed is one thing, but daydreaming in grocery stores? when you’re out at dinner with your friends? even now, when you’re sitting with his head in your lap watching a movie?

in truth, this one wasn’t your fault, really. one minute you were watching the two leads dance around each other in a frustratingly awkward flirtation and the next they had peeled each others’ clothes off and were engaging in some heavy petting that you had to admit was a tad too much. usually when corny sex scenes took place during movies you watched together, you both laughed about it, giggling at how unrealistic it was. but this one…

the man takes both of her wrists in one hand and presses them to the mattress above her head and she moans, and despite how pornographically fake it sounded you still found yourself pressing your legs together just slightly. minho’s head shifts with the movement and he huffs, fidgeting a bit before settling back down. 

the camera pans to the woman’s wrists, and you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around nothing, an embarrassing gush of wetness seeping out of you. you haven’t been turned on this quickly by something other than minho’s lips in so long and you wish you could hide your face away from him. 

“he’s not even pressing that hard, she could get free so easily,” minho snarks, complimenting his words with a bark of laughter before looking up at you for a response. 

he doesn’t go to the gym like you do, is what you would likely say if this wasn’t affecting you the way it was. she’s pretending to stroke his male ego.

“yeah,” you say instead, and it comes out shakier than you wanted it to. he notices, of course he does, and before you could brush it off he sits up and scrutinizes you with narrowed eyes. 

“are you-” he cuts himself off, pausing to look down at your lap and back up to your eyes. “are you turned on right now?”

“shut up,” you drop your hands to your lap in an effort to cover up something invisible, something that he clearly already knew about. 

“don’t hide from me,” he teases, taking one of your wrists into his hand to move it away from your lap. “you’re turned on by a cheesy porno scene, this is so funny.”

“it’s not that,” you try to defend yourself when he bursts into delighted laughter. you try and move your hand out of his grip, but he keeps it strong, and that makes the pulsing between your legs even worse.

he notices, of course he does. he notices everything about you, whether you like it or not. 

“oh,” he breathes out, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, his tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip. you can see the wheels turning in his head as he arrives at the answer to a question you didn’t want him to ask. 

“let’s just go back to the movie, okay?” you tug again at your hand but he doesn’t budge. his eyes are transfixed on the way his fingers look wrapped around the delicate skin of your wrist.

“you want me to do this?” he breathes out, taking your hand and leading it up to the back of the couch, right by your head. he positions your hand in place delicately before pressing down, so far that you can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your fingertips.

“god, yes,” you moan out, too far past being embarrassed to hold anything back. you can feel each one of his fingers pressing into your skin, and you buck your hips up into him when he moves to slide a knee in between your legs. 

“how long have you been holding this back from me, hmm?” he asks, leaning forward so that his words glide right against your ear. he presses a kiss to the top of your jaw before pulling back a bit.

“wasn’t holding it back,” you gasp out as he pins your other wrist to the opposite side of your head, trapping you in place. 

“i think you were,” he brushes his lips against yours and you try and chase him when he moves back but you can’t with the way he’s holding you back.

he guides you up, his grip still strong on your wrists, and oh. he’s walking you to the bedroom with your wrists trapped in his grip and this is something you hadn't ever imagined - it was somehow better. 

you move as if in a daze, the air around you moving away like syrup as he pushes you into the mattress underneath him. everything was happening too quickly, not fast enough, just right in the space and time he’s given you. 

he releases your wrists so he can undress himself, and you already miss the warm weight of him on you as if you were missing a limb. 

he doesn’t make you wait too long, climbing over you with a predatory look in his eyes, pressing just enough of his weight onto your body to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“my pretty girl wants to be held down, doesn’t she?” he teases, his voice deep against your skin as he trails his fingers against the veins on your wrists. 

“ngh, min,” is all you can let out, all the thoughts leaving your head with every touch of his fingers on you. he nuzzles his nose into your neck, an impossibly sweet gesture that makes you relax into a boneless puddle of spilled bones on the mattress. 

“i’ll always give you what you want,” he yanks your hands up above your head in one split second, a wicked grin on his face as he crosses them and pins them to the pillows. his other hand trails down to the waistband of your shorts, teasing them against the elastic before creeping further down. 

you’re already so turned on, so close to the edge that the first brush of his fingers against your clit makes you jump underneath him. your hands start to move to wrap around his back, wanting to hold him even closer to you, but you can’t. you let out a dry sob, so overwhelmed with how this was impossibly good, how such simple actions from him effected you so intensely. this was so much more than you could ever have imagined in the darkest parts of your head.

his fingers pause on your skin and he looks up at you with alarm, an are you okay? at the edge of his tongue.

“off,” you say before he could, wriggling your hips and hoping he would understand. 

“okay, baby,” he does, of course he does. he helps you kick off your shorts and panties, and it’s a little bit of an awkward affair but neither of you could think to care about that. every bit of his teasing from earlier was gone, the reactions he pulled from you making him desperate to do it over and over just to hear the way you gasped so prettily around his name.

his hand flies back to your cunt, keeping your wrists secured above your head as he rubs circles around your clit over and over until you’re shaking apart under him. your hips buck up when you come and he works you through it, finally stopping when you start to whine in sensitivity.

he lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hand, latching his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss that leaves you panting into his mouth. you leave your hands where he had kept them, still crossed over your head, and when he notices he groans at the sight. 

“you’re so hot,” he says reverently, the possessiveness in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “you’re so good, my good girl, all mine.”

“yes, god, i’m yours-”, he doesn’t let you finish, flipping you over onto your stomach so quickly that you felt weightless. he paints himself onto your back and you can feel how hard he is, his cock brushing against your thighs. he takes your wrists in his hands again and twists them to rest at your lower back, securing them in his hold.

he ruts into the space between your thighs once, twice, three times before positioning himself at your entrance and burying himself inside of you. you’re so wet that the slide is almost too easy, he fits himself into you like he was made to be there always.  he stays there for a moment, nosing at the back of your head before drawing out and snapping his hips forward so quickly that you can hear his thighs hitting your ass.

“ah!” you cry out, the aftershocks of your previous orgasm giving away to the feeling of him gliding in and out of you. you feel so impossibly small like this, pressed underneath him and unable to move - not that you would want to if you could. 

he keeps you restrained under him as he drives into you, ignoring the way your hands clench and unclench into fists every time he hits that spot deep inside of you that makes your entire body sing with pleasure. 

he presses wet kisses to the back of your neck, the side of your ear, the crown of your head as he fucks you; the only sounds echoing through the room are his breathless pants and the little ah-ah-ah’s you let escape into the pillow under you. 

you come together, the rhythmic squeezing of his hand around your wrists and your cunt around his cock creating the perfect rhythm for both of you to ride until climax. he stays buried inside of you for a moment, releasing your wrists to intertwine his fingers with yours instead. 

when he pulls out to collapse on his back next to you, you whine a bit, and he shushes you and pulls you into his chest. he’s still catching his breath and you can hear his hummingbird heartbeat under your ear as he tilts his head down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“why didn’t you tell me this was something you wanted to do?” he asks, trailing his fingers through your hair. 

“i didn’t want you to think i wasn’t satisfied with what we do already,” you mumble, addressing his chest more than him. “because i am, truly.”

“baby, you don’t need to be afraid to tell me these things,” he soothes, his voice so soft in the night air. “i can’t say this was something i’ve thought about before, but i very much enjoyed it. we discovered this together. i want to keep discovering things with you.”

“will you stop being so emotionally intelligent all the time?” you slap his chest, a light thing, but he grabs your wrist in his hand to stop you from doing it again anyways. there’s redness there from the way he had been gripping it and he rubs his thumb against your skin to soothe it; even so, you hope you can see the marks of his fingertips there tomorrow.

“you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 25 - Guided Masturbation

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda guides you.

content warnings: unhealthy power dynamic

word count: 1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: This is a completely unrealistic scenario, as a professor or educator should never abuse their power in a dynamic like this. Disclaimer, this is pure fantasy. 

“Stay behind after class, I need to speak with you.”

Professor Maximoff’s voice is clipped, her tone sharp. You can feel the sympathetic looks from your classmates, but you just stare at your notebook as your ears burn. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t understand basic Russian phrases.

Well, actually it was totally your fault. But that wasn’t the point! There was no reason for Wanda to publicly humiliate you in the way that she did. 

You spent the remainder of class avoiding eye contact and staying silent, vowing to never raise your hand in class again. You vaguely hear the professor wrapping up class, reminding students of the homework as they zipped up their backpacks. 

The last few students left the room, the sun starting to set early as the colder months appeared. Almost every class was over for the way, students and teachers alike hurrying home to rest before the weekend. 

Slowly, you slide your notebook into your bag, your eyes not looking up even as the professor moves to the door, shutting it with a click. You’re grateful for the two lamps that light the room, as an overhead light would only highlight your embarrassed flush. 

“It’s almost November,” the professor says, and you look at the floor. Her voice is soft, but you swallow thickly all the same. 

“I know,” you begin, but the woman cuts you off.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Your head jerks up, your face flushing for a completely different reason at the commanding tone. Her green eyes are locked on you, and her pose is casual as she leans against the desk at the front of the room. 

“I don’t get it,” she sighs, rubbing a hand over her face and brushing her hair away from her eyes. “You sit in the front row, but you’re still not understanding basic phonetics. How can I help you?”

You fight the urge to lower your gaze again, not wanting the confusing feelings at her reprimand to resurface. An awkward chuckle leaves your lips as you fiddle with the zipper on your backpack. “It’s just really hard for me to follow instructions.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Professor Maximoff says, raising a single eyebrow. 

“It is.”

Your professor tilts her head, a strange tension thick in the air. You fight the urge to squirm in your chair, your eyes glancing down her body as she speaks. Her words are clear, her voice confident. “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

Blinking, you attempt to formulate a reply, but nothing comes to mind. 

“Move your bag to the side.”

It’s a command, and you start to move your backpack before your brain has fully processed her words. You flush again, your movement stilted as you push the bag over. Returning your hands to your lap, you nervously twist your fingers, locking your eyes on your professor’s face. 

Professor Maximoff was… beautiful. She was one of the most exquisite women you’d ever had the honor of looking at, let alone learning from. She was fiercely intelligent, and her passion for the Russian language inspired you. 

Unfortunately, this meant you were a bit too infatuated with her to actually focus during class. Instead, you spent most of the time horny and squirming in your chair as you imagined her fingers roaming your body or her sharp tongue licking your skin while her accent rolled around in your ears as she whispered degrading things to you. 

“Spread your legs.”

Wait. What?

You stare at her, your legs parting slightly at her words before you snap to your senses and press them tightly together. Your professor’s eyes harden at the action, her hands gripping the edge of her desk until her knuckles turn white. Her eyes are dark, her gaze almost predatory as she looks at you. 

Recognizing the look in her eyes, you shiver. You’ve seen this look before, but this is the first time it’s set your blood on fire, your core heating from a single glance in her direction. 

Hunger. 

“Do not make me repeat myself,” she says, her voice low. Her accent is prominent, and you feel your heart jump at the sound of it. 

Slowly, you spread your legs. You’re grateful that you decided to wear baggy jeans today, otherwise your arousal would be evident and glaringly obvious. Your hands don’t quite know what to do, so you settle on resting your trembling fingers on your thighs. 

God, you’ve never been this worked up before. 

“Good job,” Professor Maximoff murmurs, and you flush hotly at the praise. Your eyes roam her body, taking in her button-up shirt with its rolled sleeves, her chest peaking out as she leans forward slightly. Her pants hug her hips, the slacks accentuating her waist as the gold rings on her fingers catch in the light of her lamps. 

She’s absolutely breathtaking. You feel more heat wrap around your core, and bite your lip slightly as your professor watches. 

“Your fingers,” she starts, her eyes locked on your hips. “Slide them under your waistband.”

Later, you’ll wonder why it was so easy, so… natural for you to obey. You’ll flush as you remember how eagerly you followed her instructions, slipping your fingers under your waistband and groaning at the heat you found there. 

Her voice wraps around your brain, squeezing and making you feel delirious as you follow her instructions willingly. Her accent is thick, her eyes intense as she commands you to move faster, to be rougher for her. 

You obey, gasping in pleasure as she watches, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her chest heaves slightly. Your fingers move at her command, following her instructions perfectly as she commands you to fall over the edge. 

When Professor Maximoff commands you to cum, you see stars as your body practically convulses in pleasure as your fingers continue to move. Her words play over and over again in your mind, her raspy, accented voice sounding heavenly. Her eyes are focused solely on you, her attention making you even fuzzier than you were before, the haze in your mind remaining for days. 

You remember the last few words she’d said to you, before she’d turned and walked out the door. Her eyes held a promise in them, something telling you that this was far from over. 

“I proved you wrong, do not question me ever again.”

[dannyriccsystem]

THE THRILL OF A TRIPLE LIFE!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: Some cute moments between you and your boyfriend: Spiderman!

WORD COUNT: 2K

WARNINGS: Light angst, mentions of blood/injury, mostly fluff :), Y/N usage

FEATURING: Spiderman!Oscar Piastri x Reader

NOTE: New layout maybe? How do we feel about the colors? idk��� I love you Spiderman Oscar

RAIN POURED AGAINST YOUR WINDOW, the streets of Monaco twinkling from below your high-rise apartment. You huffed a sigh, cradling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands whilst you settled down into the sofa. Your favorite movie was on but you weren’t watching. Instead, your focus was pinned to the doorway. Oscar Piastri, your crime-fighting boyfriend, was roughly thirty minutes late now. As expected.

You were starting to worry. He sounded so serious this morning when he promised dinner at 7:00 PM sharp. It was late, sure, but he was taking his night watches into consideration. He couldn’t promise earlier—that was unrealistic. But it seemed he couldn’t promise this either.

You picked up your phone, ready to dial his number when suddenly you heard the sound of a window squeaking open. You flinched until you saw your boyfriend stumble in, clutching his stomach. He struggled to shut the window behind him, using only one hand. You perked up, setting your mug aside.

“You know there’s a front door, right?”

“That’s too suspicious,” He groaned. “Doors aren’t for Spiderman. Windows are.”

You could tell he was in pain, so you scurried off to the bathroom to locate the first aid kit. When you returned, you pointed to the couch with a stern expression. “Sit.” Oscar obeyed, yanking his mask off as he flopped down onto the couch, his body slumped against the cushions. His hair was slightly messy from the mask. “Move your hand, spidey.”

He shakily lifted his arm aside, revealing a shallow gash that cut through his suit. You sighed, dropping to your knees to carefully dab at the wound. It would heal just fine, but that didn’t mean you weren’t worried about him. He could tell, too. How could he not?

“You promised dinner at seven.” Maybe it was a bad time to bring it up while you were wiping his wound with saline solution.

“I know, I’m sorry, but there was a bus with broken breaks and—”

“And a collapsing building with a bunch of orphans who needed your help trapped inside, yeah?” You finished, and he let out a weak laugh.

“Not this time, no.” You both fell back into silence—uncomfortable silence. He watched you carefully, his eyebrows knitted together. You were clearly upset and he wanted to fix that, but he didn’t know how. “Y/N…” Oscar reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You looked up at him with expectation. “I’m sorry I keep disappointing you.”

You sighed, letting your head drop with your chin tucked in. After a moment, you started to help him shimmy out of the top of his suit, letting it sit at his waist. You began to wrap his wound in bandages. “You don’t disappoint me, Osc. You worry me.” He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you cut him off, “I just want you to stop scaring me so much. Every time you’re late I start to wonder if you’re gonna show up at all. I start to wonder if I’m gonna hear about your death in the news paper before I even get the chance to say goodbye-”

He grabbed your wrist, because while you were rambling, you had unintentionally wrapped him up too tight. You muttered a sheepish apology, unwinding the wrappings to redo your work. “I wish I could give you a normal life, Y/N.” He muttered as he finally let go of your wrist.

“I don’t want normal, Oscar. I want you. I just don’t want you to shut me out, okay? If you’re gonna be late, just call me and let me know. I can’t stand worrying over you nonstop.” You tore the bandage with your teeth and tucked it in securely. He helped you sit up on the couch next to him, and you brought his bruised knuckles to your lips to gently kiss them.

“I can’t promise you a lot…” He murmured, his eyes soft. “But I can promise you that.”

“Good…”

You leaned your face into his neck, and he held you close. It wasn’t often he got to enjoy your presence like this, free from his duties of being a hero for just a few more hours.

YOU FOUND THE FIRST STICKY NOTE IN THE MORNING. And by sticky note I don’t mean the yellow ones that had adhesive tops, but rather a note card webbed to a surface by your boyfriend. Oscar had stuck it to the toaster, almost as if he knew you were going to make yourself some toast that morning.

‘Are you a toaster? Because a bath with you would send me straight to heaven! - 🕷️’ You laughed at his stupid pick up line, finding the cute little spider drawing to be adorable as well.

The next one was after you finished enjoying your breakfast. You stepped into the bathroom to brush your teeth, finding another note stuck to the mirror. ‘You look beautiful today! Even with toothpaste on your shirt ;) - 🕷️’ After reading the note, you looked down… And then cursed under your breath. Indeed, you had dribbled some of the minty substance onto your top, leaving a white stain. Damn you, Oscar.

He knew you too well.

The last one was in the fridge, on top of the box of leftover pizza from a few nights ago. ‘Don’t even think about it…’ You grumbled, because he also webbed the box stuck, that little jerk.

You found yourself sitting on the fire escape, a small sketch pad in hand. You listened to the sound of vehicles whizzing by and the occasional car alarm going off. Every now and then you could see Oscar swing through the tall buildings, and you tried to push away the heavy feeling in your heart, because you missed him so bad.

“Delivery!” A voice called out from above you. Oscar dropped down right in front of you, hanging upside down by one of his webs. He was in his full Spiderman suit to conceal his identity, but you knew him well enough. You grinned when he held out a brown paper sack, the bottom slightly greasy. “One sandwich from your favorite restaurant.”

He lowered himself onto the platform, upright this time. You both sat on the edge, your feet dangling over the edge as you split the sandwich in half. Oscar raised his mask high enough to eat, but before that he dinked his half against yours, like a glass of fine wine.

“I didn’t know you swung across cities for sandwiches now.”

“Only for my favorite girl.” He scooted just a tad bit closer to you, your shoulders brushing. He smiled, his mouth the only visible feature. “Did you like my notes?”

“I thought they were a bit dorky.”

“But in a cute way, right?” He took a large bite of his sandwich, staring at you while he chewed.

Your gaze softened, your grin somewhat lovesick. “Yes. In a cute way. You’re my cute, super-powered, wall climbing dork.”

He seemed happy with that answer. After a moment, he swallowed, and added on, “You’re still not eating my pizza.”

“Dangit.”

BOYFRIEND BY MORNING, RACER BY AFTERNOON, SUPERHERO BY NIGHT. That’s essentially the life Oscar lived, and you were both fine with that. He dedicated all the free time he could to you, which maybe wasn’t a lot some days, but you were fine with it. You loved him and everything that he came with. The whole triple life thing was just part of the package. If you couldn’t handle him when he came home beat up, then you didn’t deserve him when he was the sweetest boyfriend alive.

However, it was a Sunday, which meant it was time to put the life-saving aside for long enough to win a damn race. It was always dangerous, but he had you constantly checking the news. If anything happened, you’d call a red flag and send your boyfriend out to save the day. He always made it back just in time to finish the race and sweep you off your feet again.

“Good luck out there, Osc.” You spoke as he kissed you on the lips, grinning in response. “Don’t be too dangerous. Monaco needs their hero, still.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

The race seemed to be going well, until you heard some murmurs from the engineers. You poked your head out of the garage, examining your surroundings. With your headset on, you could hear Oscar over the radio asking if everything was okay. His senses were definitely tingling.

You looked out to the stands, watching as a figure in a trench coat shoved through the crowds, making his way closer to the track. You rushed to Oscar’s engineer, begging for him to be called in and for a red flag, because there was clearly something suspicious going on.

They listened, because for some reason your instincts were always correct. You rushed Oscar into his drivers room where he slipped into his hero suit, and made a grand escape out the window. It didn’t take long for him to return, just as everyone cheered over Spiderman, once again, saving the day.

Thankfully you had Lando standing outside, stalling for more time while Oscar got back into his suit. You gave him one last kiss for good luck and he rushed off.

“You better win!” You called after him.

And he did.

The night was filled with orange confetti and champagne showers for the team with yet another 1-2. When he found you and pulled you into his arms, he was grinning. “Yet another win for Spiderman,” He whispered between the two of you. The cameras were pointed, but you had raised your palm to cover your mouths.

“I don’t get how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Stop mid race to kick ass, and then get back in the car like it’s nothing.”

“Just wanna make my girl proud.” You rolled your eyes as he sealed the deal with a dramatic kiss on the lips.

OSCAR WAS DEDICATED TO BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND TONIGHT. He was determined to make this a crime-free, Spiderman-free, date. He had his phone off to where only Lando, his partner in crime, could get through to him, so his attention was entirely on you.

It was a breakfast date too, which meant the rates of crime at that time were generally low. You guys both sat down at the quaint parlor, enjoying the ambience. Nobody recognized him, either. Life was great.

“Alright, place your bets. How many pancakes can you finish until you’re called out?” You asked as you speared a cut off piece of one of your own pancakes with a fork, scooping the syrupy bite into your mouth.

“Hey, what makes you think I’ll be called out at all?”

“Oscar, be serious. Our dates are cursed! You’re always called out.”

“I think I’ll make it to the bottom this time. I’ll bet you a whole stack of ‘em.” You held out your hand, happy to take up that bet.

And then immediately after his phone started buzzing.

“No way.” You giggled into your palm.

“No.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. If I ignore it, it’s not there.”

“Oscar.”

“Y/N…” He frowned, almost like a pout.

“Go. It’s alright, I promise.” He huffed, pushing his chair back and standing up.

“Are you sure?”

“The city needs you, dork. Hurry up!” He rushed off to the bathroom to change, giving you one last look over the shoulder before he disappeared.

You grabbed his plate. “Jokes on him. I’m eating his pancakes…” He did owe you a whole stack, after all.

You didn’t mind. Downside of dating Spiderman was only getting halfway through your dates, but he made up for it in other ways!

[fishfooddude]

Six Months

An attempt at some parenthood angst?

Similarly to the title, this fic has been in my WIP folder for a minute; it went through a handful of edits. I'd like to think this is good enough for y'all.

The Bear MasterList

Directory

 

Carmy sat in the office staring at the paperwork Sugar needed his signature on; when he saw the date on his phone, it hit him—today marked six months. Six months of parenthood and six months of celibacy, to say Carmy was sexually frustrated, was an understatement. “Hey Carm, did you- are you okay?” Sugar asked when she caught him staring blankly at his phone. He didn’t respond until she put her hand on his shoulder. Her touch snapped him out of his trance. He looked at her before quickly apologizing, “Sorry, what were you sayin'?” Sugar grinned as she patted his shoulder, “You okay, Bear?”

Carmy nodded and straightened up in his desk chair, “Yea- just thinkin’ bout the baby.”

Carmy got home from work late. He quietly slipped his jacket off, and hung it on the coat rack before removing his shoes. Walking down the hallway, he slipped into the nursery, knowing the baby would be asleep. He found it impossible not to be happy in her room. The walls were decorated with vintage floral wallpaper you’d bought off Etsy, it may have been a pain in the ass to put up, but Carmy happily obliged when he saw how happy it had made you. He crept to his baby girl’s crib and felt the day's stress disappear. She was peacefully sleeping in a light pink sleep sack, furiously sucking away on her pacifier. “Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

The joy of watching his daughter sleep faded away as he approached the askew door to the master bedroom the two of you shared. “I’m home, baby.” Carmy grinned as he walked toward the open closet door, “Hi, Carm.” you called from the bathroom. When he entered the bathroom, you were brushing your teeth. As the mix of salvia and toothpaste residue dripped from your mouth Carmy’s breath hitched- was this enough to get him goin’? He shook his head as he pulled his shirt off and threw it in the laundry hamper before turning on the shower.

“How was work, babe?” you asked before bringing a small cup of mouthwash to your lips. Carmy watched as you swished it around your mouth and spit it into the sink. “Carmy?” you asked again; he swallowed. “Yeah, uh, it was good. Busy,” he answered as you hopped up on the counter. You were desperate for adult interaction after being home with the baby all day. 

“Mia, have a good day?” Carmy questioned. You nodded, “We did some laundry, then had mashed pears for lunch- she did. I had that leftover pasta sauce you made... Read a couple books and went on a walk... Then did her bedtime routine, and I worked on that stupid documentary I was telling you about.” 

As you recounted your day, Carmy nodded, but he was staring at your chest, barely hearing what you said. You’d been wearing one of his old T-shirts. He noticed how prominent your nipples were under the soft, worn-in material. He was captivated by the fullness of your breasts, and he’d do just about anything to touch them again. “Carm, you okay?” you asked, hopping down from the counter; he nodded. “Wanna get in with me?” he asked cocking his head in the direction of the running shower. You giggled, “Maybe next time, bear.”

“Oh fuck-” Carmy grunted as he worked his hand up and down his length. He felt like a teenager again, masturbating in the shower before going to school. However, now, instead of imagining the unrealistic scenarios he’d see in pornos, he had memories of you. Carmy thought back to the last time you’d really touched him. Heavily pregnant, hormonal, begging for his tongue and his cock… he’d expected a shift in your sex life as the two of you adjusted to parenthood, but this long of a dry spell was the last thing he’d expected. Carmy squeezed his eyes closed as he came down the drain.

~

“Good morning, princess.” Carmy cooed as Mia squirmed in her crib, trying to get out of her sleep sack. She spat her pacifier out and let out a gruggle. “So it’s one of those mornings?” he chuckled as he unzipped her. He watched her stretch before carefully picking her up, “See, you’re okay.” he rocked her gently before exiting the nursery and heading downstairs. 

You were making coffee and prepping a bottle for Mia as he entered the kitchen. “You’re off today, right?” Carmy nodded in response before handing you Mia. “You goin’ to work?” he questioned, as he got two mugs from the cabinet. You groaned in response, “Jenny called off, so I have to go in. I’ll be back before bedtime.”

“Well, looks like Mia and I are havin' some Daddy-Daughter time,” you smiled as Carmy gently kissed her head before going to get the milk from the fridge. When you’d met Carmy all those years ago at some trendy Chicago bar, you found him incredibly alluring. His disheveled curls, the mix of some musky cologne and cigarette smoke, the way his T-shirt wrapped around his muscular arms… he’d always been… sexy. But watching him interact with Mia was a different kind of attractive.

Carmy drummed his thumbs on the handlebar of the grocery cart. He scanned the shelf before him as Mia happily made her baby noises as she looked around the aisle. “Okay, princess… they don’t have almond extract. What kind of grocery store doesn’t have fuckin’ almond extract.” Mia put her hands out to Carmy, grabbing at the air. Carmy chuckled and ducked to kiss her cheek.

“Oh my gosh, she’s too precious.” a sickly, sweet feminine voice cooed from behind Carmy. He grinned when he turned his attention to her, “How old is she?” she asked. Carmy got a good look at the woman; she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. “Oh, uh, she’s six months,” he answered as the woman stepped closer. She smelled like cheap vanilla and a mix of flowery scents Carmy couldn’t place. Mia glared at the woman, and Carmy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Selena. I’m in this parenting group. You should stop by.” she smiled as she looked him up and down. The attention made Carmy regret not regularly wearing his wedding ring. “I’m not really the par-” Carmy started to say before Selena cut him off. “I’m not takin’ no as an answer. What’s your number?” she handed him her phone. 

Carmy didn’t know why he gave her his number- could he blame it on feeling uncomfortable? Was that even the right thing to do? It’s not like he’d ever do anything with this woman. He’d never throw away his marriage to you by hooking up with some woman he met at the grocery store. The reality of Carmy's actions didn’t hit him until he was in the checkout line. He gave his phone number to another woman- was that cheating on you? Did doing that in front of his daughter make him a bad father? “Okay, your total is $63.82.” the cashier smiled. Carmy nodded and swiped his card. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t run into Selena again.

~

It had been a couple of weeks since Carmy’s interaction at the grocery store. He’d noticed Selena’s text messages here and there. They seemed innocent until one Friday night, he was working late, you were home with the baby, and Selena had sent Carmy an explicit picture, hoping it would get his attention.

We’re both parents. 

I’m not looking for anything serious, Carmy…

My son is at his Dad’s place

Come over <3

Carmy stared at the messages before his eyes went up to the attached photo. Selena had the hem of her T-shirt between her teeth, showing off her toned stomach. He swallowed as he admired the contrast between her skin and the brightly colored fabric of her lacy underwear. He should block her. He should just delete the messages and block her number. He had a wife and baby at home—he couldn’t make this kind of mistake. He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket before returning to the kitchen cleanup, “Hey Carm, I can finish this up. Go home.” Sweeps grinned as he attempted to connect his phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Carmy grinned, “You sure, man?” Sweeps nodded assuringly. “I think I can handle this boss man.” 

You heard Carmy walk into the bedroom that night, “Hey babe!” you called as you put your blowdryer in its designated spot by the sink. As the bathroom door swung open, Carmy’s lips were on yours. The initial shock wore off as Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, and his hands pushed under the hem of your sleep shorts to grasp at your ass cheeks. Carmy pulled you closer to him, forcing you onto your tip toes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers delicately tangling in the roots of his hair. The passionate kiss ended when Carmy started to kiss down your jaw. A giggle escaped your mouth as his lips brushed against your earlobe before he nipped at your neck. “Carm-m what got into you?” you croaked as you adjusted your hips against his.

 “I need you, baby,” he muttered, lifting you off the floor. You squealed as he crashed down onto your mattress. He hovered above your body, staring into your eyes. “I need to be inside you, baby.” he swallowed hard as you bit your lip. “Carmyyy,” you giggled as you watched him pull his t-shirt off. You ran a finger down his chest, making him moan softly.

 “Let me make you feel good, baby…” Carmy whispered in your ear as one of his hands found its way into your oversized sleep shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his calloused fingertips graze your ribs. " I-I—" you studdered nervously. “Baby…please.” Carmy quietly asked as his lips brushed against yours. “No.” you whispered as you grabbed his wrist through your shirt, “What?” Carmy questioned as he stood up abruptly, “Did I do something? We haven’t done anything in like six months- clearly I did something wrong. Just tell me so I can fix it!” Carmy raised his voice as his eyebrows knit together in frustration. 

You propped yourself on your elbows and watched as he picked up his shirt from the floor, “Carmen, please don’t yell at me.” you said calmly. You watched as he rolled his eyes and paced before you, “Baby. I want to have sex with you. I need to have sex with you-” Carmy groaned as he pushed his hands over his face into his hair. Your eyes narrowed, “Carmen. I had a baby-”

 “I KNOW! I fucking know! You had my baby, but now you don’t even want to fuckin’ shower with me! I get it- pregnancy was hard, and then giving birth was hard, and now being a mom is hard.” Carmy started staring at the ceiling while he expressed himself. He took a breath and turned to look at you; regret washed over him when he noticed you were on the verge of tears. “Baby, please don’t cry…” he pleaded as he knelt by the bed. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away before he could grab it, “Sorry, I don’t want to fuck you after taking care of your baby all day.” you spat. Carmy closed his eyes and took another breath trying to compose himself before saying something dumb, “How dare I fail to meet my wifely duties.” you angrily laughed as you stood up. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared as Carmy got up. “Baby, I didn’t—" you cut Carmy off with a groan. “Shut up, Carmen. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

Carmy sighed and stepped closer to you, as he reached out for your hips only for you to slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” you glared at him, “Fuck this.” Carmy muttered under his breath as he pulled his shirt back on over his head. “What do you mean ‘fuck this’?” you questioned as Carmy exited the bedroom, “I need air.” Carmy called back to you.

You moved to your bedroom window to see Carmy walking toward his car in the driveway. He got in and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 

Send me your address.

Part 2

[mythelixir]

Right now, who are you, what do you need to hear from your future self and your inner child? Pile - 1

Pile - 2

Pile - 3

Pile - 1

Knight of Wands - reversed

King of Swords - reversed

2 of cups - reversed

Ace of Swords

Aura colour – orange/purple

What’s your vibe?

Well, to be put simply, you are reckless. You’re someone who is driven by adrenaline, never allowing anything to stop you. To you, the world is a small place, and everything is simple. But all these are carefully crafted façades. You, in reality, are restless and fearful. You fear that the time given to you is too short and you might die tomorrow, you live in that fear. So you do everything now. YOLO right? So, you lack self-discipline in the excuse that it only cripples your adventure. But to a heavy contrast, you feel for the people you love, so deeply that you protect them with the life that you so fear losing. You are an idiotic fool that everyone loves but fears you aren’t in your right mind more than half of their time.

You are someone who is gifted with the power of intellect along with victory. Doesn’t mean you’re favoured that way, it's just that the hardships you face, you always find a way to get out of, with triumph at that. Hence, you give off confidence in your walk and talk. I just saw a lioness. While lions are signs of reign and power, they are also known for laziness. But lionesses? They are the symbol of elegance and royalty. While some things confuse you, you don’t get stuck in it for long. You understand the problem and solve it quickly, you’re very action oriented. So, when people see you, they see someone reliable, someone they know can handle shit on their own. In others' eyes, you are that bitch that they fear.

You give off major Aquarius/Sagittarius vibes.

Messages from your future self:

I know you’re tempted to just use others around you, and step over their efforts to get to your destination, but please, don’t do it. You’re only damaging yourself in the process. Telling yourself, “One last time” before doing it? No, you're going to do it again, trust me. It will be like an addiction, even when you know you should stop, you won’t. You can't. Trust me. I know being this Ice Princess is a tempting imagery right now but that ice that is meant to pierce others? It will only impale you. Power-hungry jackals, you hate them right? Then why are you seeking to become one? Write down your feelings instead, so when you read them back, you’ll understand why you’d stopped yourself. Love yourself a little. Show yourself some peace. You need it.

Message from your inner child:

So you fear touch because you were never hugged, lulled to sleep or comforted when you cried as a child? No open communication, only screaming matches? Always being said, “You’re younger, you don't know the world. Just do as I say”. Unrealistic expectations that you were never able to meet? Well, when you were younger you might’ve, but as you got older, shit just didn’t make any sense. You wanted to rebel all of a sudden, but even when you did, you were brushed off as “immature”?

But now, it’s time to change the narrative. Start small—acknowledge your pain and let yourself grieve the affection and understanding you missed. Surround yourself with people who make you feel safe and loved, and learn to set boundaries with those who don’t. Explore self-soothing practices like journaling, meditation, or holding a soft object when you feel overwhelmed. Teach yourself that touch can feel safe again—start with something gentle, like hugging a pet, or even placing a hand over your heart to remind yourself you’re here. Speak kindly to yourself; replace harsh inner voices with affirmations like, “I am enough,” or “I deserve love.” Engage in therapy or support groups to unlearn the lies you were told and create space for your true self to grow. Healing begins when you nurture the love and care within you that was always waiting to be found.

Pile - 2

The Empress – reversed

Queen of Cups – reversed

The Hierophant

2 of wands

Aura colour – white/red

What’s your vibe?

You are controlling and manipulative, but that stems from lack of self-worth and constantly neglecting your needs. You simply cannot control yourself so you rectify that problem by controlling the people around you, that can either drive them away or to you. You might be the sole earner/breadwinner of your family, this power trip might be the reason for your behaviour. The cards also strongly suggest the presence of a woman/ feminine energy had negatively impacted previously in your life, which now has shaped you to be sceptical to women, this also might result to you being called “pick-me”. But no, you are just comfortable around men. This kind of treatment also makes you incredibly bonded with nature and also, food. You love treating the people you love with food and also, when you are depressed, you need rain/ rain sounds + lots of tasty food.

You also suffer from emotional imbalance/ low EQ. Insecurity, emotional insecurity and self-neglect are themes that you see yourself falling into. This leads to lack of empathy, distrust and animosity towards people that are nice just for the hell of it. You either loathe it because you think they’re being fake or you just hate them for being something you cannot. You also think emotional detachment is the way to go. You give off tsundere vibes.

Major Taurus/ all water sign vibes.

Messages from your future self:

You lack a belief system and you know that ruins you. The nights when you feel no one is there for you, no one can hear your wailing cries, you fail to get back up because of it. Because you have nothing to believe in. That breaks you from the inside. If people fail you and you hate the idea of following a religion, then imagine you future, where you see yourself. Where you succeed, where you are loved by everyone and work towards achieving that, when you do that, you have something to live for. A silver lining in the darkest of clouds. And, there is nothing wrong with being conventional/traditional. People stick with olden ways because they’re proven to work. So you do you!

I kept hearing “Too sad to cry” by Sasha Sloan when I was writing this, give it a listen but keep a box of tissues with you.

Message from your inner child:

I know you probably fear large bodies of water—it’s okay. Something must have happened back then, something that made the water feel less like a friend and more like a threat. You’ve learned to cope, though. You keep a support system nearby, like friends or a lifeguard, or rely on floaties to keep you afloat. But that fear also made you fall in love with the warmth of summer and spring, where the sun feels like a hug and you don’t have to face the uncertainty of deep waters.

You’ve always been the one who plans, the one who maps out their path because people around you (your parents/uncles/aunts) seemed to have glided through life, never planning anything and you’ve seen things go wrong because of it. And that because of that, your anxiety made you an avid planner.

But guess what? That’s your strength. You hold the world in your palm, ready to shape it your way, one thoughtful step at a time. I see you. I’m proud of you. Keep going.

Pile - 3

Ten of wands – reversed

King of Cups – reversed

9 of wands

3 of pentacles – reversed

Aura colour – gold/black/blue

What’s your vibe?

You’re the people that appear in those movies with truck load of books in their hands and fall over, stumbling out of balance. You take on too much, be it work, responsibility. You’re nothing short of a pressure cooker now, ready to burst any second. I got this image from this movie called “The 3 idiots” where they heads swell up like a balloon and burst due to an overload of information. It is supposed to be funny, until its not.

I feel like now, you’re trying to let go of certain things, delegating some tasks, freeing yourself. You’re setting clear boundaries, prioritising tasks and overall, gaining a better understanding of your situation as a whole. Teamwork is a part of your stress and you are starting to realise that/ you’ve already recognised that as your problem.

The cards also point to a lack of maturity and the need to withdraw from emotional situations rather than facing them head on. You may be emotionally detached,  avoiding expressing your feelings openly and also create walls when going into a relationship. You may also have a sharp tongue or make decisions hastily/in the heat of the moment. You might have unhealthy coping mechanisms, when I see you I see a person with dark cirles/ eye bags/ bitten nails.

Major water/fire sign vibes.

Messages from your future self:

You are so fucking strong and resilient. Believe in that. You are someone who doesn’t ever give up because you see other people doing shit and think “Well, bitch, I can too”. That is you. But also please, proceed with caution. Stop once in a while to take a breather, because even the strongest I people need rest to succeed in battle. You are someone who has gone through and will go through so much shit but the will to live, never once faded. You have this strength in you to just, go on.

I don’t know why but when I saw this I got remembered of this one meme from arcane, where this dude’s shirt says “I survived act III, but at what cost”.

I heard “Sign of the Times” from Harry Styles just now. Wow. Well, that might be a good or a bad thing, only you will know.

Message from your inner child:

I see your fear of masculine energy, and I understand—it might stem from times when that energy felt overwhelming, controlling, or unsafe. You’ve built walls to protect yourself, and that’s okay; they were necessary once. But now, those walls can come down, slowly and on your terms. Not all masculine energy is harmful—some of it is steady, nurturing, and protective. Let yourself explore it gently, whether in others or within yourself. As for stagnation, it’s not a failure; it’s a pause, a moment to reflect and gather strength. You’re not stuck—you’re resting, preparing to move forward when you’re ready. Give yourself permission to heal, to trust, and to grow at your own pace. There’s no rush, no timeline you must follow. I see your strength, even when you don’t. I’m here, rooting for you, every step of the way. You’re safe now.

[wcters]

PERIOD COMFORT

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 750+

summary: you have your period and chris tries to help you

warnings/contents: swearing, periods (for the girls with period trauma)

author’s note: sorry it’s so short but that’s the only thing that i could come up with that i didn’t find cringey at that moment

A lot of the time, you hated being a women. Constantly judged on how you dress and act, creepy men, unrealistic body standards, and more. But this time? It was periods. That time every month where your body lets you know you’re not pregnant but simultaneously punishes you for not being pregnant. Every woman hates it, every little girl wants it.

Usually spending time with your boyfriend and your best friends would help a little bit, just to make you feel less of a sack of uncontrollable emotions and pain, but that wasn’t the case this time. This time, everything was bothering you. You had left the triplets to take a nap in Chris’s room as to try and stop yourself from getting mad at them and breaking down for no reason, but you’re still bothered in here. The ticking of the clock, the air from the vent, every little noise was bugging you. You groaned and grabbed the pillow besides you, throwing it over your head.

Because of the object blocking your ears, you don’t notice the footsteps leading up the the bedroom door. “Babe?” Chris called out as he opened the door, “you okay?” You hummed and stayed where you were, too lazy and tired with everything to reply. “Y/n?” “. . . I think I’m dying.” You finally spoke, pain evident in your voice. “I need to be put down.” Chris quietly laughed at that. “You don’t need to be put down.”

“I may not need to, but I want to.” Chris grabbed your hand as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s wrong? Is your period?” You never felt embarrassed when talking about your period with him ━━ you shouldn’t. You hated when some of your friends mentioned that their boyfriends would get grossed out when they talked about it. It’s a natural thing and it’s needed for them to live (as horrible as it is). You nodded, taking the pillow off your head and turning to face him. “I’m just so sick of it.”

“I know you are. And I would say I know it hurts but I don’t really know . . . At least not from experience.” You felt his hand brush up and down your back as you laid on your stomach. “Is there anything I can do?” He asked you, moving your hair that at fallen in your face. “My heating pad in the basket? Can you heat it up?” You groaned as a significantly sharp pain hit you and you curled up in the classic it’s bad pose. “Of course. Anything else?” Chris nodded. “Get rid of my uterus for me?” You looked up at him with a pleading smile. “Ask me later.”

You watched Chris as he moved to grab your heating pad and then open the door, slightly closing it but not fully as he left. While he was out, you figured you should change your pad. You did that, and stole a pair of loose boxers to put over top instead of the sweatpants you had on earlier. You were sitting up in his bed when he got back. “Are you wearing my boxers?” He asked you, placing the bag in front of you. “Yes. My sweatpants were bugging me and I was going to cry.” You grabbed your heating pad and leaned against his headboard, putting on your stomach and opening your legs. “Come here,” you patted the space between them, “I want to watch a movie.”

Chis knew better than to fight you, having dealt with you on your period many times before. It was you, but not dealing with any shit, and he didn’t want to make you cry. He took his shoes off and climbed on the bed and lied in between your legs. Before he put his head down, you put a pillow over your heating pad as to not burn him. “That’s really nice.” He commented as he lied down. “I know. That’s why I have it. Now, what do you want to watch?”

You ended up putting on a Disney movie (definitely not Bambi), any other movie would probably get you upset in some way, so you both cuddled up and pressed play. When Nick knocked on Chris’s door later in the night and got no answer, he opened the door to find you two asleep with Chris in your lap. He took a quick picture and left you two alone, closing the door.

“Matt, look at this.” Nick called out to his brother that was on the couch. “What?” He was shown the picture and a smile formed. “Those two are so in love, it’s sickening.” He shook his head. “I know.”

[snoopyana]

she’s so cool.

l.sh. smut. he’s weird asf imma be so fucking honest. handjob. very unrealistic, it’s like an amateur porno.

“she’s so cool.”

sitting on the curb, sohee watched as you hauled bags from out of your car and set them on the front porch. pushing pieces of hair from out of your face before jogging back to the vehicle to carry another load to your house. he couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to, but every mundane activity was so much cooler when you did it.

resting his chin in his hand, he could really watch you all day. coming by antons’ house just to watch as you went on with simple tasks. like the time he watched you shovel snow from antons’ bedroom window. another to watch you repaint your front door, and once to just watch your shadow move behind the curtains. it was such a regular occurrence for sohee to come over and stare, that anton and his family decided to no longer question it.

opting to judge him instead.

“yeah and you’re so weird, stop staring.” digging his heel into sohee lower back, anton followed sohees’ gaze. although he always knew where he was looking, since he never looked anywhere else.

“if you like her so much, go and help her out.” after a few seconds of no response, anton went from staring at you, to staring at sohee. watching as he dramatically groped his lower back.

“oh come on, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“yes it does!” sohee squealed before hunching over, clinging onto his torso.

“no it doesn’t!”

nudging him again, sohee managed let out an even louder wail. catching the attention of anyone nearby, including you from all the way across the street. dropping the bags into the entrance of your suburban home, awkward silence filled the street as the three of you stared at each other.

scrambling to his feet, sohee quickly brushed off his clothes — bumping into anton in the process. it was a weird sight. watching as they stumbled over each other, you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

staring was weird, staring was really weird. but what was the harm if he did it first?

giving sohee one last nudge, anton finally caught you silently watching. straightening himself out, he tried to do the same for sohee — making him stand up straight on his own two feet.

“go over, say hi.”

“what? what no!”

planting his hand on sohee back, anton looked up and down the road before giving the other boy one good push over the curb. forceful enough to have him slightly in the street, soft enough so he wouldn’t face plant in the middle of the street.

mouth covered in amusement, you watched as sohee visibly tensed. giving his body a quick shake before making his way across the street. stopping just before your driveway, it was as if a brick wall was keeping him from going any further.

“hey.”

“hey..”

a cold briize since shivers down sohees spine as he thought of what to possibly say. kicking up snow on the edge of the driveway, he thought back to earlier — and any other time at that. all the days he’d come by to watch, being told to go and help instead of just staring like a mad man.

if you like her so much, go and help her out.

quickly walking up to the patio, he stood at the bottom-step — peeking past you to eye the heaps of grocery bags that lined the entry way of your home. turning his attention away from the plastic mountain, his eyes zeroed in on your face.

oh how he loved your face.

taking note of the way your lips were slightly parted, teeth peeking through the small gap it created. the way your nose and cheeks were so obviously a few shades darker from chilly winds and snow, how your hair lined your face just perfectly — with a few loose ends clinging onto the skin of your face. noting how a few snowflakes settled and melted on your lashes, making your eyes flutter every-time a new flake made its landing. eyes shifting a little lower, he took note of the turtleneck that was snug against your skin, just barely hidden by the big puffer jacket concealed the rest of your body.

sohee really did love looking staring at you.

but staring was weird. and it was especially weird in times like this. times where he was being spoken to, but too lost in his own world to even realize. sure, he was looking directly at your face, but he failed to realize when your lips started to move. glancing over the way your eyes slightly narrowed, making your eyelashes graze over each other. the way you were repeating hey like a broken record.

it wasn’t until you were right in front of him when he realized. stumbling back, his pupils blew and he started to break a sweat at the proximity.

“hello?” glancing around, you couldn’t help but be concerned — and weirded out. watching as sohee came back to reality, it made you realize how odd he was.

but so what? everyone was a little odd.

making eye contact, you couldn’t help but smile a little. glancing down to watch his lips continuously open and close as he searched for his words.

“do you need help!” practically yelling, sohee quickly covered his mouth. his ears grew hot and red while the embarrassment grew in his stomach — and it wasn’t much help that you were now laughing. copying his movements, with your hand over your mouth.

laughing.

“yeah..” pausing to catch your breath, you quickly swiped away a few stray tears from your eyes, “yeah i’d love some help.”

nodding his head, for reasons he wasn’t sure of, he waited until you turned around and headed into the front door. making light-work of the stairs, he stood idle in the entryway of your house. glancing down the short corridor, the flicker of decorative lights caught his attention. the decorative christmas lights that decorated your living, that was in your house.

he was in your house.

kicking off your shoes and winterwear, you were nearly in the kitchen before realizing that sohee was still at the foyer — surrounded by grocery bags and shoes. just standing there. turning into the kitchen to place the bags you held onto the counter, you turned the corner to see he quickly shrugging off his coat and hanging it onto an empty space on the coat rack. scooping up a few of the bags, he was speed walking down the hall — a small, awkward smile on his face as he slipped past you to set them down.

bringing the final bag from the front, sohee watched as you put the items into their respective places. bending over to put something into one of the cabinets that lined the grand kitchen, or straining your arms to store something ontop the fridge. watching your sweater rise just enough for the skin of your back or stomach to make an appearance. he could watch you do this forever — but that was weird and he was weird for staring.

putting himself to some use, sohee grabs a random bag. placing the contents out onto the counter, he dawned on him that he had no idea where anything went. all his staring sightseeing, did him no good as he was only really watching you. never once sparing a glance to what you were putting away or where exactly you were putting it. looking over his shoulder, he began to feel nervous once again.

being so close to you felt so unreal. who knew it would have been this easy?

“hey, where does this stuff uh, go?” voice low, sohee watched as you stopped moving for a split second before turning around. stepping next to him, you rested your hand on his shoulder, examining the snacks and random cans that were once packed into a bag.

“uh, in the pantry.” giving him a slight nudge, you were back to shoving things into overcrowded cabinets and glass shelves of the fridge.

maybe he was just nervous, but who doesn’t know where cereal goes?

“thanks again uh..”

“sohee.” answering a little too quick, he fumbled with his shoes. seated on the floor of the entryway, he couldn’t help but watch as your shadow hovered around him — watching. slipping one shoe on, he reached across the room for the other.

“sohee, thanks for the help.” leaning down, your hands found their way onto his shoulders. the action sending shivers down his spine — making his whole body sit up straight . your fingers dug into the clothed skin before trailing down the remainder of his arms.

“you were truly a great help.” with your head on his shoulder, his focus had quickly shifted from the shoes in his hands to your hands on his torso.

“no problem.. it was my pleasure. really.” struggling to tie the knot of his sneaker, he was hyperaware of the way your fingers snuck under his shirt and brushed against his stomach. fingernails scratching against his skin, making his stomach cave in. unbuckling with his belt, his own hands came to unzip his pants. raising his hips, sohee was quick to pull down his boxers and jeans. a sigh of relief escaping his lips once his dick was freed from his jeans.

yeah, he was already hard. he had been for the longest, ever since your hands first made contact with him in the kitchen. but he was nowhere near embarrassed, more relieved. with every step he took, the rough denim shifted and rubbed against his aching cock — the thin layer of his boxers being no help. he made attempts to hide it, they weren’t the best attempts, far from it.

but at least he tried.

hips buckling, your thumb swiping over his slit caught him completely off guard. head lolling over, sohee tightly closed his eyes — enjoying the warmth that engulfed him.

“i did appreciate your help, but you’re kinda weird you know.” slowly pumping your hand around him, your lips brushing against the exposed skin of his neck.

“watching me take everything into the house.” the more you spoke, the faster your hand went. making his body twitch and spasm. “staring is rude, did anyone ever tell you that?” squeezing the base of his cock, earning a loud moan from the boy.

“oh shit shit shit, i’m cumming.”

sprawled out on antons bed, sohee could only stare up at the ceiling — watching as the ceiling fan. legs twitching here and there, a smile plastered on his face.

“dude, are you cool?” the bed sank as anton sat down in whatever space he could find. poking at the other boys side into he got an answer.

“anton.” sitting up, sohee propped himself up onto his elbows. making strangely awkward eye contact with the other, as if to try and send some sort of unsaid message. wiggling his eyebrows, sohee plopped back down on the bed — an untimely leg spasm following right after.

“oh. oh you’re so gross…”

hey.. how y’all doing….? miss me? i hope so, sorry if this was bad. like actually, i haven’t legitimately wrote something in months, i started this back in november. i was gonna post an older draft but i ended up hating it, so i just finished this. again, sorry if it was underwhelming? confusing? i tried my best and i didn’t wanna not give you guys something before 2025. and HEY, its my first sohee fic ever so.. thats a plus? so happy new year and pray for more stuff from me next year…

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

an ocean in a world full of puddles ◦ Chapter 1

-After being brushed off by Chan once again, you are stuck waiting in the lounge room for him to arrive. What are you going to do when it isn't Chan that arrives, but instead Felix? And it feels like you've known him for years."

words ◦ 5k

genre ◦ series, angst, fluff, the beginning of a wild ride

warnings ◦ chan is painted in sort of a negative light because he is always busy, felix is sort of shy around you at first, but lowkey flirty near the end as he starts to get more comfertable, theres a lot of fucks in this, i keep calling yall im dumb im sorry, fem!reader, felix calls her a lady once,

a/n ◦ The strikeouts are intentional to show how chaotic the reader's mind is and how she feels like her emotions are so invalid she has to just erase them away. I'm sorry if this isn't what you expected. I found myself struggling to describe certain aspects of this and was quite disappointed by the outcome (but please do not let this deter you. If anything, read it and let me know what you think/what I can change. Plus, I know the other parts are going to be way better than this).

also i listened to heather while writing this up until the phone number bit... then i listened to slow down by chase atlantic...do with that information as you will

A VERY VERY SPECAIL THANK YOU TO THESE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE that helped me through the different struggles and stages in this fic I thank most of my unnecessary errors being fixed because of them @yongbun, @jeonginsleftcheek, @luvtak

masterlist ◦ a loved lived in between the stars and the sea

The human condition: a soul filled with passion, but not a mouth to spill it into.

It was ironic really. 

Your soul was filled with passion, but you had a mouth to spill it into.

That mouth just didn't want your passion- 

Your fervor-

Your ardor-

Romance practically coursed through your veins, your blood cells shaped like the hearts you saw the world through. 

Chan was filled with passion.

Chan was filled with ardor.

Chan was filled with romance.

But Chan didn't want poetry-

Chan spilled too much soul into songs. 

Songs that made him too busy for you.

The two of you saw the same goal, but spoke different languages- 

Your love was often- 

Lost in translation. 

You shout, frustration poking in the pit of your stomach painting the car red you dig the pencil into the words scratching them out so hard you cut holes in the page that sounded so stupid

all of this was so stupid

your feelings-

stupid

your issues-

stupid

the thought that Chan was anything other than perfect-

stupid

Why couldn't you just be content with everything you have? So many girls would pay to be in your place, tripping over each other just to be in his presence, and yet, what, you're unhappy because you spoke different languages? 

What the hell does that even mean?

You were trapped inside an inescapable box, the sharp edges of your unrealistic expectations like shackles that cut into your skin, bleeding with a passion only ever found in fiction. 

Why were you always stuck?

stuck in the stars, stuck in the sea-

stuck in this stupid line of stupid traffic, waiting for a stupid meal that Chan probably will be too busy to eat with you, writing some stupid piece of poetry that was about as poetic as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.

stupid

stupid

stupid

“Finally,” you mumble as the car in front of you inches up, allowing you access to the next window. You politely bow, grab the trays from the worker’s hand, and drive off.

Your life quickly turned from the hope of a story to the reality of a routine. The road, the walls, the button your finger grazes as the doors to the elevator slam shut, the number of steps it takes to get to his room, the feel of cold metal underneath your palm as you open the door, the same hunch of his shoulders, the same glow of his laptop, the same empty look in his eyes.

the same

the same

the same

Most of your relationship is spent looking at him like this.

"Hey channie," you say, setting the food down on the empty spot beside his keyboard.

"Hi, love." His voice is nothing more than the ghost of a mumble, blending with the click and shift of his mouse, moving different blurs and blobs of color on the screen. Chan tended to get tunnel vision when he was working, even if that meant you were left stranded in the shadows of his forgotten responsibilities. 

"I um brought you dinner." you clear your throat, pointing lamely at the boxes beside him like he couldn't clearly see they were there. He perks up, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

"Oh baby, thank you." The tension in his shoulders melts. "I'm sorry, you know how busy I am sometimes; right now it feels like I'm drowning in work," he chuckles, absentmindedly shifting in his chair.

you're always busy

You push a smile through the tangled ball of suppressed emotions climbing up your throat.

"I know you're busy, but do you think I could eat dinner with you today...please?" Your stomach twists in painful knots. It was pathetic really, the way you begged for attention like a needy dog more than a doting girlfriend, but you were desperate, scrambling to fan a flickering flame that felt long sputtered out. 

stop

You knew what you were getting into when he asked you out—the stress, the anxiety, the workload, the long hours. Chan was always upfront and honest about the struggles of being an idols girlfriend, never wanting to veil your eyes from the harsh sting of realities rays.

then why does it still feel like your soul is burning?

He flicks his gaze to the screen, guilt gnawing at his core. There was so much to do in the day and just never enough time to do it. "I don't know, I don't really have a lot of time right now..." He mumbles, picking at the seam on his shorts apologetically, "Do you think you could wait about 20 minutes? I'm kind of on a roll here."

When your relationship was first blooming, your spirit would often shatter with those words, but pain only holds power when it isn't welcome, and as long as you are loved by him, you will accept the feeling with open arms. 

"I'm going to go sit in the lounge room then." You try to keep the disappointment out of your tone, but it leaks through the cracks echoing in your chest, radiating in palpable waves. You clench your jaw, picking up your tray of food.

does he not care?

"Okay," The squeak of his chair indifferently swiveling back to its previous place echoes in your ears. Louder than anything you've ever heard. 

he didn't even kiss you

1 hour 45 minutes and 13 seconds

That's how long you have been waiting in the lounge room for Chan to walk in the door.

that is how long you've been wallowing in a sad pathetic heap staring at your uneating supper

1 hour 45 minutes and 15 seconds now

16 seconds

17 seconds

You spin around when you hear the door creak open, anticipation fluttering in your stomach, only to plummet when you see Felix standing in the entrance, too busy shoveling a fork full of noodles in his mouth to notice your presence.

Felix was a familiar face, mostly associated with sweet smiles and bouncing eyes; you have only ever talked to him on a handful of occasions, possessing the basic relationship of hellos in the hallways and smiles when you enter the same room, but besides the couple times where he offered you some of his freshly baked brownies or told you which room Chan was in, you haven't actually had a conversation with the boy.

You groan, dramatically deflating in your seat.

Of course, it wasn't chan

Felix yelps, his heart leaping in his chest, only to wrap around his bones, doing trapeze tricks inside his ribs when he lays eyes on you—why, out of all the days he could have seen you, it was on the one day he was least ready, and the way your whole body slumps like a deflated balloon, it becomes crystal clear you weren't exactly jumping up and down to see him either.

Does Cupid have a vendetta against him or something?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anybody was in here," he stutters awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair like he was trying to fix it without a mirror. Disappointment quickly brews into guilt watching the way his eyes shift, hurt drooping his shoulders down. 

"No, I'm sorry, it's not like that; I just thought—" You falter. What the hell did you think? Sorry, but I thought you were my boyfriend who left me here all by myself, and like usual, my stupid, hopeful heart really believed this time was going to be different. "You were someone different." You sink into the couch, a dull ache spiderwebbing through the chasms in your chest.

"Let me guess." His eyes crinkle with sympathy. "Chan."

You glance down at your ribs—some silly part of you really believed your shirt had blossomed with the crimson stain of your sorrows.

"How could you guess?" you mutter sarcastically, picking at the skin of your nails. Why did it seem like everybody else got the memo that if you were to search the thesaurus, your name would be the first word under forgotten?

"Well, really, it was a toss-up between you being with him for the past 5 years and the fact that he has been glued to his computer for the past 5 hours," he grins. "Pick your poison."

Your gaze drifts back to the couch that sits idly in front of you, lonely in the middle of the room, out of place, without the implant of another person's body.

"W-Well," he starts, shifting his bowl in his hands. "Do you... I don't know, want some company...maybe."

He's so awkward, so unsure, like a baby deer wobbling on unfamiliar legs, struggling to stay upright. You tilt your head, your lips pulling up into an adoring grin; you never really noticed it before, but he was sort of shy. You had a terrible tendency to take your time observing people unintentionally, causing discomfort to the victims of your restless brain—assessing in silence.

His ears burn when your eyes gloss over with an opaque glaze. His heart drops only for those silly little butterflies that always appear when you are around to swarm their wings around the lump growing in his throat.

Well, that was a bust.

Why couldn't he just be normal around you?

"O-Or not, that's fine too. I-I get it; you're probably l-like waiting for Chan or whatever. I-I can go get him if you would like." He jerks his thumb behind him, forgetting he was holding something for a second, stumbling to catch it right before it falls. You snicker, biting your lips to contain your laughter. His eyes flutter shut, scrunching his nose in embarrassment.

He was cute

Why haven't you talked to him before?

"No, please sit down," you lazily gesture to the couch in front of you. "It's not like Chan's going to be coming down anytime soon."

He sighs, his whole body melting with relief, practically forming into the couch when he shuffles over, adjusting himself to comfortably sit with his legs wide and his head tilted down. He picks up his fork just before whispering, "I'm sorry that he kept you waiting," and stuffing his face. You smile, the sight all sorts of endearing. The amount of food stuffed into his cheeks puffs them out, forcing his mouth into a pout that's smeared with red sauce. For a moment, you almost forget that you're supposed to be groveling, but why would life want to let you live when instead it could remind you constantly how much it sucks?

"I'm used to it." You learn to live with the absence of air when your hope always causes you to suffocate.

"You shouldn't have to be," he murmurs, his hand politely veiling his mouth while he chews. He's staring at his food like his noodles were an impossible labyrinth he's forced to escape, completely oblivious to the cataclysmic sentence he just uttered. Your jaw drops, stomach fluttering with butterflies, butterflies that you could’ve sworn burned out a long time ago. When most of your time is spent in a constant state of apocalypse, you forget the side effects of a romanticism, felt before your soul was littered with the echos of war.

"Oh?"

"Are you not going to eat?" He questions, forehead creased with concern as he gestures to the food that was currently burning a hole in the table. You stare at him stupidly, mouth ever so slightly agape. Did he not notice that there were swarms of zombified insects burrowing their way into your belly, kaleidoscopes charred wings creating panic in your pounding heart?

(cookie interruptions: I was today years old when I found out that a kaleidoscope was the technical term for a swarm of butterflies)

Why was he making you feel so jittery?

"Oh," you blink, giving an imperceptible shake of the head—a weak attempt to gather your disoriented thoughts.

Honestly, you had forgotten it was there.

"I was waiting to eat with Chan..." You mutter through the tufts of wool still stuffed in your head, wrapping your fingers around the tray, but when you pull open its flappy lid, your lips pull into a sneer glaring at the congealed sauce and cold noodles. You weren't surprised that your food had spoiled over the 2 hours you had been waiting, but it didn't make the frustration that bubbled in your gut any less apparent either. "But clearly, that hope was shortlived," you scoff, chucking the useless tray back on the table. 

Felix clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. He often found himself tiptoeing on the edge of insanity, always rewriting the words he wanted to say, terrified you had written a line in the sand the waves had washed away.

You were a star with a heart tied to the sea, where he would have more success breaking the bond of the moon than turning the tides of the ocean that suffocated your soul.

So for now, he will coast the cosmos alone, waiting for the day you will finally look his way.

"You can have some of mine... if you want," he whispers, shyly scooting his cup over to you. "It's salmon-flavored; it's really good."

"Are you sure?" you blink, utterly flummoxed.

"Yeah, of course!" You swore you could trace the stories of the sky in the gaps where his freckles glowed.

"Thank you; I promise I won't eat too much," you joke, pulling out your fork. "I don't mind it, really. I can always make more as long as you're eating I'm okay," he grins, sliding his hand out of the way to allow room for yours, grateful for his generosity; you bite back a smile, digging into the hot noodles; a spicy flavor pulled straight from the sea explodes on your tongue as soon as the food meets your lips.

You swear you just tasted heaven's gates.

"Holy shit, this is delicious," you moan, rolling your eyes back in your head.

"I'm glad you like it," he smirks. "It's my special recipe."

"So you do more than bake, huh?" you waggle your brows lightheartedly, though you were sort of impressed by his broad palette of skills. 

"You know that I bake!?" He was still recovering from the shock that you even knew his name—the way he often dissolves into the wall when you enter the room.

"Of course, I know that you bake; I always have to eat at least half of the plate of brownies Chan brings home." You giggle, picking at the noodles, wanting more but feeling guilty for hogging the whole bowl.

"Oh, I'm full," he stretches, rubbing his stomach like a stuffed cartoon character. 

"Are you lying?" Cynism was a side effect of being a creative romanticist—your artistic brain didn't limit itself to only forming one conclusion, while the stories that ended up on paper were solely portrayed as having happy endings—you knew this philosophy was neither sadistic nor realistic, for even if the fictional characters made up of the fluid of your mind betrayed each other, what would a human, evil in its rawest form, do to you?

well that was melodramatic

"You know you're a very skeptical person," he jests, pulling his lips ever so slightly up.

"I'm a hopeless romantic; there's a difference," you state, stuffing your face when you finish studying him down to the very twitch of his right calf muscle.

"Aren't hopeless romantics supposed to be happy-go-lucky all the time? Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and stuff?"

"You know we are called hopeless for a reason," you snort, unrealistic standards were more of a curse than a blessing.

Scratch that, having unrealistic standards is just a curse

“Being a hopeless romantic is like being an ocean in a world full of puddles.” Your soul speaks like his fingertips have felt its walls a million times before “devastating.”

He stares at you gobsmacked, blinking like you just hit him over the head with a mallet. Your mind kicks into gear, anxious little butterflies flipping on the switch for damage control.

that must have sounded so self-centered

"I-I didn't mean, like, in a cocky way, I'm better than other people. I just meant it's impossible to pour my passion anywhere because everybody else doesn't have room to take it. If anything, I-Im the bad one in this scenario.” You stutter, sporadically shaking your hands, worried that the misconception is going to create a concrete opinion. He quickly waves you off, seeming anything but bothered. 

“An ocean in a world full of puddles that's pretty deep,” he implores, treating the words like age-old wine to be sipped with both time and deference. “You know you should really consider being a poet 'cause that like moved my soul.” Only Lee Felix can make humor sound so honest. 

Why was he so ...amazed

"I like to think I'm a poet." Your cheeks are painted red as you bashfully tilt your head down. 

but right now not so much

“You can't think you're a poet,” he chuckles. “If you ever wanted to read somebody your stuff, I would be happy to help…Maybe it could fix your uncertainty." Something twinkles in his eyes, something nervous yet desperate, something you couldn't quite pinpoint while your stomach was sprinting in circles—the mere thought of showing somebody else your poetry was the equivalent of slicing your heart in half and presenting it to the world on live television.

basically, something that will never happen never ever

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I don't really write poetry per se; I just write my..." You trail off.

What do you write?

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he reassures, his warm smile cooling the icy anxiety that crystallized around your core.

Why do you do this to yourself??

Stupid Felix and his stupid power to loosen your lips-

stupid. stupid. stupid.

To be a poet is to be vulnerable; no great art is ever created comfortably. 

Fuck it 

“I write my dreams,” you blurt, peeking out through your clenched eyelids to see if Felix caught the spit of a sentence; clearly, he did the way he lifts his brows thoughtfully. 

“Elaborate”

A man of many annoying questions you see 

“Why,” you groan, sinking into your seat almost comically. 

"Because I want to listen to you," he laughs like whiskey and wine, both husky and rich. You choke, your heart imploding into a million tiny, rose-shaped pieces.

"Nobody wants to listen to me ramble on about hopeless fantasies that will never come true," you sputter, still trying to reshape your rose-shaped shatters into something that resembles an organ. 

"I do."

Oh well, there they go again, forming right back into roses-

He made all of this seem like a complex game of chess, every move of hesitance quickly countered by a block of honesty.

From the moment you could write, you found out that paper was not volatile the way people were, how you could erase a word written but, in time, in life, you cannot erase a sentence said—that philosophy stuck with you, forever rendering you apprehensive to vocalize your feelings.

Maybe it was your soft spot for the stars that made you speak, but either way, when your mouth opened, it felt as though all your past doubts had washed away, and for once, you were free.

"I have always held onto my dreams through the tip of a pen, existing in between the lines of my poetry. But I don't write about deep philosophical pearls of wisdom; I write about love, passion, beauty. I write about coffee and cream, roses and vanilla. I write what I think romance tastes like, how the contrast of the most iconic confessions has been written in the rain, a usually gloomy, grey thing completely transformed through the lenses of love…" You sigh, tilting your head against the back of the cushion in bliss.

"I write the way I want to love, for I know it's the only way to quell my heart's aching urge to live anywhere but reality."

He stares at you eerily still, blinking once, twice, three times."

Why wasn't he saying anything?  

Perhaps you were drunk off Felix's promises, or the cracks Chan created in your chest made you bleed with a passion only ever reserved for your poetry. But either way, you felt naked—exposed under his exploring eyes.

"What?" You croak, picking at the sleeve of your shirt.

Why did everybody act like you were crazy?

Was there something wrong with you?

You are floating in the asteroid belt, a thousand tiny rocks hovering around your head.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places." There’s a deep intensity in his eyes, a million roaring waves crashing against each other; you run face-first into a meteor, bouncing around the surfaces of a weightless space.

How many brain-altering revelations could Felix bestow before your brain cracks?

"You know, I haven't even told my friends that," you deflect. It was a dangerous game, diving too deep into your thoughts, and right now, with him—with that statement, danger could quickly bleed into destruction.

"So, I'm not your friend?" Clearly, Felix catches on to the sudden swerve of the conversation, how he eases into it with such grace, jestingly poking your knee.

"This is the first time I've ever had a real conversation with you," you scoff, poking him right back. His jaw drops in faux offense.

"You know, I just gave you my food. I think that deserves an upgrade into friendship territory," he states matter-of-factly.

Two can play at that game-

"I don't have your number; usually friends have each other's number." You place your elbows on your knees. He has been playing a metaphorical game of chess with you this whole time, his pawns moving ever so slightly forward. He forced your hand, the comfortability in your eyes making openings on the board you never meant to create. His rook, his bishop, his queen—they kiss the place right below your king.

You had one more trick up your sleeve-

You were a creative romantic whose moves were nothing less than a story, and you were going to be damned if you let your king be captured.

Now, where's the happy ending in that?

(cookie interruptions… I dont know what this is nor why i am so dramatic but hey what can you do ALSO LISTEN TO SLOW DOWN BY CHASE ATLANTIC I BEGTH OF YOU )

He leans forward, pressing his tongue against his cheek. The fabric of his shirt stretches across the hard ridges of his abs—

No, stop it, bad y/n. 

"Do you want it?" He leans his head ever. So. Slightly. Forward  

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe I'll give it to you," soft, smooth voice- 

you narrow your eyes,

"What will Chan think?"

"It doesn't matter what Chan thinks-"

"Tell that to Chan-"

"Maybe I will." His lips-

"You know, if Chan saw us here right now, he would not be very happy." You suck your teeth.

Check-

He scoffs. Moves his bishop. 

You're right back where you started. 

"You're not his pet."

"Yeah, but I am his girlfriend." Block.

"Those two words are not synonymous," he says. Moves his queen.

Too many openings, too many moves, too many pieces on the board.

Too many outcomes.

Do you even still want to play?

Weren't you the one who started the game?

You bite your cheek, his eyes burning like molten amber, glinting in the overhead lights.

Should you have really asked for his number?

What would Chan think if he saw it in your phone?

Who were you kidding? He would actually have enough time to look at your phone.

"You know," he leans back, extending his arms to drape across the couch, pushing his thighs ever so slightly apart. Gone is the man with smiles like sugar; determination wisps across his face like spits of fire, overtaking every feature."If I give you my number, I'm going to have to help you unlearn your engraved cynicism." He's closing in on you, moving all his pawns in one fair swoop. You're surrounded, swarmed.

"You can't ungrave something it's scientifically impossible." You shift your king. One last dying breath-

Before- 

"I can try."

Checkmate

And like every person of honor does when they have nobly lost a battle they created- 

You run away. 

“I have to admit, as much as I loved this conversation, I really should be going,” you say, picking up your tray of forgotten food to chuck in the trash, leaving Felix's bowl on the table. He jumps up, scrambling to pick up his mess while you dart out the door, tossing the tray in the can just outside the room.

“Wait,” he gasps, stumbling to catch up with your speed. Your finger, out of habit, moves to press the button to the elevator doors—that is, before he catches it, his warm hand wraps around your wrist.

“Now, what gentleman would I be making a lady get her own door?” He bellows, voice deep and low, a sound echoing through his chest as the fabric of his shirt kisses your back. He’s so close, so close, so—

How long has it been since you've been touched? 

Heat. You're drenched in it, painted in it, enveloped in it.

His hand grazes your skin as he slides up your wrist, his finger extending to press the button.

Your breath hitches.

Body shutters. 

Every atom erupting in flames. 

The elevator doors slam open-

Your brain clicks back into place-

“Will I be seeing you again?” Your hot, so hot. He’s hot, so hot. Breath—it tickles your ear. Disoriented, so disoriented.

“I still don't have your number,” you manage to utter, slipping into the doors. His face will be the final thing you see as you descend down the shaft, lifelessly walking to your car where you will go home, go to sleep, and start your routine all over again. He smirks, flicking his eyes to your pants.

“Yes, you do.”

I do? 

The doors inch shut, and a small, teeny-tiny part of you wants to wrench them open, pull him in, force him into the stanzas of your story. You are tired—tired of waiting for your life to begin, tired of repeating the same vicious cycle.

But that wasn't you talking- 

That was the hopeless part of your personality,

The unrealistic-

The fiction- 

Life wasn't a game and reality wasn't a book. 

You had a good thing going wth Chris and you were going to be damned to ruin it just because of one fun conversation.

You reach one finger into the back pocket, feeling around for what Felix could have been talking about.

There's no way.

Your skin brushes across a smooth surface—something that definitely wasn’t there before.

There's no fucking way.

You pull it out.

It's pink and folded and definitely written on. You unfold it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just in case you ever need an editor or a friend.

Oh well, fuck the game. He just flipped over the whole damn chessboard.

Read Chapter 2 here

[natsaffection]

Hi hi I know this is a random request but I just watched smile and I was terrified so I was wondering if you could do like a wandanat x reader where the reader watches a scary movie on their own coz they was bored and wandanat were working and reader gets super scared and runs to them and they just laugh at her because she is so scared but explain it’s just a movie then they watch the movie with her instead and it leads to ya know lol

Sorry if this is a weird request ignore it if it is sorry :)

Comfort. | WandaNat

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Threesome, fingering, slight begging

Word Count: 1,1k

A/N: Again something Cuteeee. When I wrote it, my Tv suddenly turned off and it scared the shit out of me (it was midnight when I wrote it) That’s a sign..

The rain pattered gently against the windows of the cozy apartment, a soothing backdrop to the evening’s activities. Natasha and Wanda were both deeply engrossed in their work, papers and laptops spread across the dining table. Their focus was intense, each woman lost in the tasks at hand.

In the living room, you curled up on the couch with a blanket, deciding to pass the time with a horror movie. The movie was one you had seen recommended, but the eerie soundtrack and sudden jump scares quickly proved to be more unsettling than you had anticipated. With each creak and shadow on the screen, your anxiety grew, until a particularly terrifying scene caused you to yelp and scramble off the couch.

Heart pounding, you bolted from the living room, seeking the comfort of your partners. Natasha and Wanda looked up in surprise as you burst into the room, your wide eyes and trembling hands betraying your fear.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, her voice laced with concern. You hesitated, feeling a bit silly for your reaction. “I..was watching a horror movie, and it just…it really scared me. I wanted to see you both.“

Natasha and Wanda exchanged amused glances. Wanda couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, you got scared by a movie?”

You nodded, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah… I know it’s just a movie, but..” Natasha chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s take a break, shall we?”

Together, they guided you back to the living room. Natasha grabbed the remote and paused the movie, examining the screen with a raised eyebrow. “This is the culprit, huh?”

You nodded again, feeling more embarrassed by the second. “Yeah.” Wanda sat down on the couch, patting the space beside her. “Come here. We’ll watch it together.”

Natasha settled on your other side, sandwiching you between them. With a teasing grin, Natasha pressed play. The movie resumed, and Natasha and Wanda’s amused expressions helped to ease your nerves.

As the movie played on, Natasha made playful comments about the unrealistic plot points, exaggerating her reactions to the scares. “Really? Who runs into the basement?” she quipped, making you giggle.

Wanda, meanwhile, conjured a small red glow in her hand, creating comforting patterns in the air to distract you from the scarier scenes. “Remember, it’s all just special effects,” she said, smiling.

Your fear gradually ebbed away, replaced by a sense of security and warmth. Natasha’s arm around you and Wanda’s playful magic made it easier to endure the scary scenes.

When the movie reached a particularly steamy scene, you felt yourself blush deeply. You glanced at Natasha and Wanda, expecting them to fast-forward, but Natasha simply raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, this movie just got interesting.” Natasha murmured, her voice low and teasing.

Wanda giggled, her fingers tracing light patterns on your arm. “Looks like we chose quite the film, didn’t we?” You felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement, your heart racing for a different reason now. Natasha’s hand began to move slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against your thigh, while Wanda leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Feeling better now?” Wanda whispered, her voice sultry. You nodded, your breath hitching. “Y-yes, much better..”

Natasha’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned in to kiss you softly, her touch both tender and possessive. Wanda’s hand joined in, caressing your other thigh, their combined warmth making you feel cherished and desired.

As the movie continued in the background, forgotten for the moment, Natasha and Wanda exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with affection and a hint of mischief. Natasha’s hand slid up your thigh, her touch light and teasing. “You know,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, “we could make this evening even more interesting.”

Wanda’s hand mirrored Natasha’s movements, her fingers trailing up your other thigh. “I think that’s a wonderful idea..“ she murmured, her voice low and inviting.

Your breath quickened, your body responding to the gentle, teasing touches. “What do you have in mind..?” you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Natasha’s smile widened as she leaned in to kiss you deeply, her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt. “Just relax and let us take care of you. Let you forget the creepy scenes.” she whispered against your lips.

Wanda’s lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, her kisses soft and tantalizing. “We want to make you feel good.” she breathed, her hands roaming over your body.

Natasha’s hands moved with expert precision, peeling away your clothes with a mix of tenderness and urgency. Wanda’s touch was equally skilled, her fingers dancing across your skin, igniting a trail of warmth and desire.

As Natasha’s lips traveled down your body, her kisses growing more intense, Wanda’s hands continued their exploration, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. Natasha’s tongue flicked out to taste your skin, her movements deliberate and sensual.

Wanda’s fingers found their way between your thighs, her touch light and teasing. “You’re so beautiful..” she whispered, her voice filled with admiration and desire. Your breath hitched, your body arching towards Wanda’s touch. “Please..” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Natasha’s eyes met Wanda’s, a silent exchange of affection and understanding passing between them. With a nod, Wanda’s fingers moved with more purpose, finding your most sensitive spot. Natasha’s lips and tongue followed suit, their combined efforts sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

The intensity of their touch increased, each caress, kiss, and stroke designed to bring you closer to the edge. Natasha’s mouth worked in perfect harmony with Wanda’s fingers, their movements synchronized and relentless.

Your moans filled the room, your body trembling with the overwhelming sensations. “I’m so c-close..” you gasped, your fingers gripping the couch cushions.

Natasha’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she increased the pressure of her tongue, while Wanda’s fingers moved faster, their rhythm perfect. “Let go,” Natasha urged, her voice husky and commanding. “Let us take you there.”

With a final, shuddering breath, your body tensed, and you cried out in ecstasy. The climax washed over you in powerful waves, leaving you breathless and spent. Natasha and Wanda held you tightly, their touches gentle and reassuring as they guided you through the aftermath of your release.

As your breathing steadied, Natasha pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “You did so well, Detka..” she murmured, her voice filled with love and pride.

Wanda smiled, her eyes glowing with affection. “We love you so much.” You nestled between them, feeling more loved and cherished than ever before. “I love you both..” you whispered, your heart full.

The three of you stayed intertwined, the movie long forgotten, the rain outside continuing to fall softly against the windows.

[rowie264]

Why Timebomb shouldn't exist in s2 (part 3 - Relationship)

Part 1 - Ekko Part 2 - Jinx

Now let's look closer at relationship itself between Ekko and Jinx that was shown in the series.

To begin with, I will briefly define my position - I don't ship Ekko and Jinx. But! I can appreciate something, even if it doesn't match my preferences, as long as it's written well.

Timebomb wasn't written well, guys. The foundation - the characters themselves - has already crumbled, as I pointed out in previous posts, and everything else followed behind.

Ekko had a crush on Jinx as a child, yes. But Jinx was killing his friends. Jinx was following Silco's orders, and I'll remind you that Silco killed Benzo and it was because of Silco that zaunites got hooked on shimmer. Forgiving all her actions and understanding why Jinx willingly followed Silco would have taken Ekko muuuuuuuuch longer than it was shown in the series. To cite their childhood bond is to reduce the depth of their conflict and importance of firelights to Ekko.

It's even worse on Jinx's side. Throughout both seasons (except for act1 s1), she doesn't think and talk about Ekko. Zero thoughts about him, zero reflection, as if she didn't care about him at all. All I see in her is a feeling of nostalgia for old friendships in a moment of vulnerability. How am I supposed to believe in their connection if one of the characters doesn't have a single second thought about the other?

And finally, episode 7. Why does it exist (regarding Ekko arc and his realationship with Jinx)? Does it reveal the characters in any way? Well, everyone except Ekko and Heimer are completely fucking different people and have nothing to do with the original ones, so I don't give a damn about them at all. Perhaps Ekko reveals himself more as a character? Mm… And how? What's new we find out about him? That he could be Heimer's student? We already knew he was smart. That he could have dated Powder if things had turned out differently? Well, thanks for the information, but why do I need it? Wouldn't you rather to reveal relationship between Ekko and original Powder/Jinx instead of wasting time on "what if"? Did Ekko need to make a time machine in alternative timeline? No, he could do it in canon timeline just fine.

Also, this "what if" does not serve to reveal relationship between Ekko and Jinx in original timeline. Or did Ekko need to see Powder (like a good version of Jinx) to understand that Jinx is a grown-up Powder and that she is still inside Jinx, and not gone as he thought? Well, you know, I personally saw it already shown in s1 on the bridge (in much more emotional moment with original Powder/Jinx lol).

And what do we have as result:

Ekko is not fully revealed; Jinx has become an OOC; their connection is not shown either through reflection, through characters thoughts, or through any interactions/mentions with other characters; they have very little screen time together - Powder in alternative timeline doesn't count bc she is completely different person; they get along with a snap of fingers as if they hadn't been enemies for many years; Jinx murdering Ekko's friends have no influence at all; restoration of their friendship takes place in a very short unrealistic period of time and, moreover, off screen; the romantic line is sucked out of the finger only to please shippers and is very poorly written.

Timebomb is the ship that demands slow burn if you don't want to fuck up the characters. It demands to attend to their complicated story and broken relationship before going anywhere romantic.

But all of it was brushed aside and that's why i'm not happy about Timebomb existing. Because Jinx's and Ekko's personalities, their complex history and their potential was sacrificed for the sake of this ship.

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Beg for me

If you know me IRL, no you don't.

This was heavily inspired by me playing around with the Jealous Law AI chat thing (10/10 great conversation)

In my opinion, this is unrealistic because this could VERY easily turn angsty, but I didn't because I'm writing so much angst in my other fic (Torn Apart).

Anyways, enjoy this one shot!

Commissions open

Summary: Law harmlessly pranks you when you're desperate for him to touch you, and your petty ass makes him pay.

WC: ~3.2k

CW's: No actual smut but NSFW, Fem!reader, fem pronouns used (kinda), switch!Law, switch!Reader

“L-Law… please?” 

He had worn you down to the last reserves of your patience- your need for his touch and your pride were warring in your head, but you could only beg for him. You were blindfolded, laying on the bed in your new lingerie. You had the flimsy meshy material embroidered with his Jolly Roger right over your nipples and right over your throbbing clit, and gold rings went from your sternum to right above your tiny thongs, with criss crossing black silky straps accentuating your body. Your mesh bralette was two triangles barely covering your breasts, the Jolly Roger scraping over your nipples, making them sensitive with every heaving breath. 

“Awww, already begging? Maybe I should just play with you instead of giving you the surprise,” he drawled. You turned your head in the direction of where his voice came from, standing at the side of the bed. You whined, brain whirling. So far, every time you had begged for him to show you the surprise, he had pushed your patience even further. You had one last strategy to play. 

“I just want you… Law. Please? I’m begging you,” you spoke softly, desire lacing your voice. You felt him crawl onto the bed, finally coming to a stop as he hovered above your body, caging you in. You whined softly, reaching a hand out blindly. You wished you could see his face to bring some comfort to your desperation. You felt his breath on your lips, and your hand finally found his warm skin, and you felt his heartbeat under your fingers. Your fingers curled gently over his neck, letting your hand slide up to tangle in his hair. 

“Well… if you’re so desperate for me, then it seems like we can forget all about the surprise, yeah?” he asked teasingly. You whined. You were desperately curious about this “surprise”. After mentioning it all day, he gave you two hints- it would bring some spice into the bedroom, and would make you very satisfied. You had no clue as to what it could be. A vibrator? A dildo? A vibrating attachment for his tongue piercing? A cock ring? Your imagination had been running wild all day, so you decided to surprise him with your new lingerie to spice things up even more.

“It.. can be later. I just want you,” you whispered. He chuckled darkly, and brushed his lips softly against yours, before sliding off your body. You whined, nipples peaking again from the cold as his body heat suddenly disappeared. 

“Law… I can’t wait much longer. I’m soaked,” you begged. He didn’t answer, and you heard the tell-tale signs of his shirt hitting the floor. You heard him peeling off his signature spotted jeans, dropping them to the floor with a small thump. 

“L-Law?” You called out to him. You felt his hands on your thighs, and you jolted at the sudden touch. He chuckled at your reaction, and parted your thighs. You whined a little at his movements, but eagerly spread your legs for him. 

“What a good little doll. Just stay quiet and do as I say, yeah?” He spoke. You felt the softest brushes of his lips on your inner thighs, and you started to tremble with anticipation. You nodded, just wanting him to touch you. His weight suddenly disappeared from the mattress, and you felt alone and cold. You whined a little, nearing frustrated tears. You parted your lips to call out to him, but you knew he would prolong the time between touches even more if you spoke. You heard him rustling about, pulling something out from under his desk, then placed it near the bed, and you shifted a little, grinding your teeth with impatience. 

“You’re being so good. How about a little reward, hm?” he cooed. You looked in the direction of where his voice came from, and you nodded with a small smile. You felt his weight press into the bed near your head, and his hand slid along your jaw and cheek, tilting your head up a little more. You parted your lips in anticipation, but he only gave you the briefest brush of his lips against yours. When he pulled back, you waited for a second to see if he would do anything else. His weight disappeared like a ghost yet again, and with it, the last of your patience. A tear of frustration escaped your eye, but it was immediately absorbed into the blindfold. You curled up on the bed, feeling exposed. 

“Aww, cmon. I’ve got your surprise~” he said quietly. You perked up a little at that, hope sparking in you again. 

“Sit up,” he commanded. You followed instructions, and knelt on the bed, sitting on your heels. You felt Law climb onto the bed, sitting in front of you. 

“Hold out your hand. I’ll guide you so you can grab your surprise in the box,” he instructed. You held out a hand, and he grabbed your wrist with gentle fingers and guided your hand to your surprise. You jolted back a little as your fingers unexpectedly came into contact with something soft and fuzzy. You reached out again and grabbed it, looking at what you hoped was Law’s face with confusion. 

“If I take off the blindfold, can you behave yourself?” he asked quietly. You nodded frantically, and sat still. You felt his fingers drag up your outstretched arm, up your shoulder and neck, and slowly up your cheek before pulling the blindfold off in one swift motion, careful not to pull any of your hair in the process. You blink at the sudden light, even if it was dim. You focus on your boyfriend in front of you, then on the “surprise” your hand was holding in the box placed rather strategically between Law’s legs. You were holding what looked like the arm of a snow leopard plush. You pulled it out of the box, confusion on your face. 

“Speak to it as if you were speaking to me” he ordered with a smirk. You rolled your eyes. 

“Stop joking around. I brought out this new lingerie so you could give me the surprise,” You said. Law shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“He is the surprise.” 

You gave him a flat look of disbelief, then looked down at the snow leopard. You had to admit, it was actually pretty adorable. You couldn’t help the soft smile that curved your lips as you looked down at it. 

“Well… thank you. He’s actually super cute,” you murmured. Law tugged it back. 

“You’ll only get it if you speak to it like you're speaking to me” he said, humor evident in his voice. You sighed and shook your head. You had no idea where he had even gotten this idea, nor where he was going with it. 

“Fine,” you snap. Your eyes land on the snow leopard, still held in Law’s hands. You begin speaking, feeling like a dumbass. 

“Well… mini Law, you know I love you, right?” you looked back up at your boyfriend for approval. He shook his head. 

“More.” 

You sighed heavily, and rolled your eyes. 

“You’re the only man I know who could make me do this and I’d still consider having sex with you right after,” you grumble. You snatched the plush from his hands and turned around, holding him up to eye-level. 

“Law, hypothetically, what would you tell your female friend if she told you that her boyfriend had been talking about a surprise for the bedroom all day, so she decided to bring out some brand new lingerie that she had embroidered with his Jolly Roger, and wore it under her sweatpants and shirt while she was making a delicious dinner for him, and then he teases her in the bedroom until she's literally crying from frustration of not being touched, and then he pulls a prank on her to give her a snow leopard plush as the surprise. What would you say?” 

You could feel Law rolling his eyes at your dramatics. You heard the huff of his sigh behind you, and for extra effect, you brought the snow leopard up to your ear, as if listening to what it had to say. 

“What’s that? You think she should make him sorry? I think so too. Thank you, Law!” 

“Oi,” Law said, annoyance seeping into his tone. You turn back to him and shrug, putting the plush by the pillows and crawl off the bed. You feel his eyes on you, watching your movements curiously. You stop by your dresser to grab some cozy pajamas, and strut to the ensuite bathroom. 

“Oi. What the hell do you think you're doing?” Law called from the bed, naked except for the box covering his softening dick. You scoffed from the bathroom. 

“You aren’t getting any tonight, Law,” your voice was muffled as you closed the door, and began stripping off the lingerie. 

“Oh c’mon, I know you’re bluffing. Just get back out here, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he called, exasperation evident in his tone. You rolled your eyes, but said nothing, only walking out of the bathroom dressed in your pajamas, and tossed the lingerie set at Law. 

“Not bluffing. If you wanna play, you better know damn well who your opponent is, and you haven’t even seen even part of how stubborn I can be,” the smirk on your face was absolutely evil. He caught the lingerie, and looked at you skeptically. 

“Yeah? Whatcha gonna do now?” he asked, a sardonic grin lazily curved his lips. You hated how it made your heart flip in your chest. 

“Me? I’m going to go get a cup of sleepy time tea. Want any?” You slid on your slippers and walked to the door, looking at him curiously as your hand rested on the handle. His jaw dropped a little.

“Are you serious?” he said quietly. You only raised a single brow with a smirk on your lips. He rolled his eyes and stood from the bed. 

“Fine. Just give me a second.” he quickly put on some sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. You waited until he was approaching you to open the door, leading the way through the submarine to the kitchen. He followed you, playing along with your demands. You reached the kitchen and started the kettle, dragging out two mugs and two tea bags as he leaned against the opposite counter. His gold eyes followed your movements closely, and you swallowed at his tousled hair, gray sweats that hung low, and his abs that seemed prominent in the low light of the stove light. Having run out of things to do, you finally faced him with a smirk and arms crossed over your chest. 

“So,” you started. He quirked a brow up, and smirked at you. 

“So…” he echoed. 

“You aren’t getting anything until you’re as desperate for me in that lingerie set as I was for you. I literally cried a little from frustration,” you complained. He scoffed. 

“You’re kidding me. We both know that you can’t resist me,” he said cockily. You rolled your eyes, smiling evilly

“Usually, no I can’t resist you. But I’ll resist just for the sake of being stubborn. I’ve got something to prove, and you have something to make up to me,” you said. His smirk widened at the challenge. 

“Uh huh. Fine. What are the conditions?” he said, catching on. You laughed a little, but it was more ominous than anything. 

“The conditions are that you won't get anything other than friendly touches from me. I’ll tease you, and I’ll wear you down until you break,” you say confidently. Law rolls his eyes. 

“Easy. You’ll break first,” he said. You pouted at him, but the kettle signaled that it was done, and you poured the water into the mugs, handing one to him. You looked at him as if you were concerned about something. 

“Did you not like the lingerie?” you ask sweetly. He choked a little on his tea, splashing the hot water on his bare chest. He sucked in a breath at the sting, and you handed him a towel, looking a little concerned. He waved off your concern. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But uh… I think… It made me… feel a way that I really liked. Possessive over you almost. It marks you as mine,” he stumbled over his words a little, a little blush on his cheeks. Your face lit up with understanding, morphing into something mischievous. You step forward until you could whisper in his ear.

“Ohhhh ~ so you really liked it, huh? Might want to remember exactly how I looked, laying under you, blindfolded and soaking through the thongs that had your mark right on my little clit. I needed you, Law. I was crying from frustration because that’s how much I needed you. I was helpless under your hands, willing to do anything to get you to fuck me. And now…” you stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter, “Now, I want you to come crawling to me, begging for my body like I was begging for you earlier,” you tease. Your eyes trail lustily over his lanky body, biting your bottom lip and letting it slide out from between your teeth seductively, and traced your tongue over your teeth as your eyes rested on his obvious erection in his sweats. You finally let your eyes trail up his tattooed torso, noticing the white-knuckled grip he had on the handle of his mug, and how his chest seemed to shakily rise and fall. You finally met his eyes, and put your mug of tea behind you, and let one hand trace your curves over your shirt, then raise the hem of your shirt until a sliver of underboob was showing. You used both hands to hold it up evenly, so only the underboob was showing, and then squished them together. Law wasn’t breathing, and you could see the seeds of regret beginning to sprout behind his eyes. You were honestly a little afraid he’d break the mug in his grip, but your attention was diverted to his dick straining through the gray sweats. You met his eyes, and winked at him as you dropped your shirt. You picked up your mug and nonchalantly walked out of the kitchen.

“Night, captain~” you teased as you left. He watched you leave, knowing he was stuck standing there until his dick calmed down, lest he run into a crew member with an erection bobbing in plain view. 

You went back to your shared room, and settled into bed. You had finished your entire mug of sleepy time tea and was starting to get ready for bed when Law finally walked into the room. You caught his gaze in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, and bent over the sink, sticking your underwear-clad ass out in clear view as you spat and rinsed your mouth. Law looked up to the ceiling, head falling back as if he were asking the gods for mercy. You finished getting ready and crawled into bed, yawning as you curled up under the blankets. By the time Law had finished getting ready for bed, you were half asleep. He crawled into bed next to you, and ran a finger down your face. 

“I love you… you know that?” he murmured sleepily. You hummed and nodded. 

“You’re still not getting a kiss, but I love you too. Unconditionally,” you answered. He snorted a little at your answer before landing a kiss on your forehead. You were too tired to argue, and it felt good after being denied so much of his touch earlier. He laid facing you, the both of you drifting to sleep quickly. 

Two days. 

He lasted two days. 

The night after you had set the rules, he could only think of you laying under him, squirming and soaking the lingerie. The stockings hugging your thighs, tight enough that there was a little bulge at the top of them, and garters decorating your hips. The strings of the thong were also decorating your hips, with his Jolly Roger rubbing over your sensitive clit as you spread your legs for him. The gold rings glinted down your midline, with crisscrossing silky strands accentuating your curves, and moved with every heave of your breath. The mesh bralette was the final touch, a flimsy thing that rubbed your sensitive nipples into hard buds with the stimulation his embroidered Jolly Roger provided. The night after he accepted your terms, he woke up humping the mattress, on the verge of an orgasm. You only woke up when he got up to go to the bathroom, and he quickly hushed you, reassuring you he would be right back. The following day, he locked himself in his office, claiming something about expense reports and researching something about the island they were approaching. 

You knew damn well that he was avoiding you, hoping to win this bet if he didn’t see you tease him. Unfortunately for him, you’d bring him snacks and drinks through the day, always leaving him a blushing, scowling mess as he sat at his desk, waiting for his erection to go down before he could stand again. 

It was at dinner on the second day that he approached you, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he passed by you. 

“Meet me in our room later,” was all he said. You smirked to yourself, and you had every right to. 

After dinner, you strolled back to your room slowly. You took your time, making him wait like you had to two nights ago. You finally opened the door, and quickly shut it as you saw the view in front of you. Law was kneeling in front of the door, naked with a throbbing and leaking dick. He was blushing, and you looked down at him in shock. 

“L-law?” you whispered. He looked up at you, and pointed to the bed. You looked, and saw your lingerie set laid out carefully on the bed, next to the blindfold. 

“You win. I can’t… I need you. P-ple… fuck. Please? No matter how many times I cum, it doesn’t feel as good as it does with you. I can’t… I can’t get it right,” he nearly whimpered. 

Your jaw dropped. Trafalgar Water D. Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates and the so-called Surgeon of Death, was on his knees begging for you to put on your lingerie embroidered with his Jolly Roger and to make him cum. You started yourself starting to get wet, and you swiftly knelt down in front of him. 

“Okay. Okay sweetie. C’mere,” you gently cupped his scruffy jaw in your palms and kissed him deeply. Your tongues clashed together, and he let you win the battle for dominance quickly, moaning as he finally touched you. You pulled back, and looked at him with a grin. 

“Just let me go get changed, and you decide if you want to be more dom or sub tonight, okay? If you’re sub, I want you to be wearing the blindfold. If you’re dom, I want you to put it on me once I’m on the bed, okay?” 

He nodded, and kissed you again briefly before standing. You stood with him, and gave him a flirtatious smile as you grabbed the lingerie from the bed. 

“I’ll be right back… wait for me.” 

“Always.”

[dawn-iscozy]

“ like a cat in a sunny spot ” ♡ vii ♡

SERIES PLAYLIST: “ swim ” - chase atlantic ♡ “ honey (are u coming?) ” - maneskin ♡ “ the summoning  ” - sleep token ♡ “ soft spot ” - keshi ♡ “ bubbly ” - colbie caillat ♡ “ kiss me ” - ed sheeran ♡ “ cotton candy ” - yungblud ♡

SERIES WARNINGS: poly, eventual ot8, named oc - “Rora”, derived from “Aurora” (soooooo original, I know), who is basically a self-insert (i’m still on the brink of denial about it). loooots of nicknames/pet names, and even more as the fic progresses (if you read the “a little warmth in winter” you’ll know most of the names already 🤭). things move pretty quickly in this, and it may stray vaguely into soulmate au territory but, like, I’m a sucker for these men and for the way I’ve written them and I just can’t stop.

apologies in advance if the timeline doesn’t make any sense, I’m going purely on vibes and my affection for these 8 men. idk if it deserves a warning, but scents are mentioned a lot in some parts and kinda littered through the rest of the fic (using scent profiles from a perfume/fragrance site that has a line of scents called “Smells Like a Hug From Ateez” and very limited knowledge of fragrances the members may have previously used/just the vibes they give off)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS: food, woo in the kitchen (yes, this needs a warning), hongjoong thighs, hongjoong eyebrow slit, woo is unbearably horny 24/7 apparently, and joong knows a few ways to control him, kinda mxm but not really?? (joong kinda degrades woo and woo likes it, but we been knew), tears-ish, spicy-ish pictures, lots of affection, alcohol consumption (just barely),  big group discussion, polyam relationship discussion/negotiation, safe word discussion (it’s very to the point and unrealistic, probably, but i have no experience with anything like this and it’s fiction soooooo)

TAG LIST: @kaleigh-2002 (if anyone else wants to be added, drop a comment or a message and i'll gladly add you!)

♡ 18+ - no smut, but still MDNI ♡

vii: cooking something up

Wooyoung didn’t give her time to be nervous, shoving a few bags into her hands and ushering her inside the building. Nobody was even there, yet. Not even the ones who inhabited the apartment were there, the lights off and the atmosphere entirely too quiet. Hongjoong flipped on the lights as they all walked inside, and she toed off her shoes, looking around at the apartment that she hadn’t even realized she missed. And it was so weird that she missed being there. Right? She had only been there one other time. Granted, it was basically for a whole weekend, but she shouldn’t have held any form of emotional connection with the place. Yet, as soon as she walked through the door, she was flooded with comfort. 

Rora wasn’t sure how to make sense of it, but she decided not to question it any further. Instead, basking in the feeling, allowing herself to enjoy it as she walked further into the apartment on socked feet. The bags in her hands rustled, a reminder that she was in the middle of something, and she turned to stare at Hongjoong and Wooyoung as they slipped out of their respective shoes. 

There was a grin plastered on Wooyoung’s face, one so bright she couldn’t help but mirror it. “I thought someone would be here, at least,” she said, following behind Woo as he walked past her to the kitchen. “But I’m kinda glad everyone is gone.”

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked, setting the bags in his hands on the counter and then doing the same with her own. A body pressed in beside her, more bags rustling as a hand with black painted nails reached around her to set them beside the others. Warmth flooded the side of her face, Hongjoong’s breath brushing passed her ear before he stepped back. 

She tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the thrumming of her heart in her chest at the move. “Yeah,” she admitted.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Hongjoong piped up.

“Correct,” Wooyoung said, busying himself with getting everything out of the bags. He looked up at her, pretty eyes locking with hers, wide and sincere. “There really is nothing to worry about. But I can understand why you might be feeling anxious. It’s going to be a big talk, you’re meeting lots of new people, and it's only been a short amount of time. It’s a lot of change.” 

Hongjoong snorted, and she felt him lean against the counter behind her, his arm brushing against her back just enough to send a jolt up her spine. “You sound like Seonghwa,” he murmured. He shifted behind her, and she turned around to see him lifting himself to sit atop the counter. His legs spread as he got comfortable, and his knee brushed against her arm. 

“Who do you think I learned it from?” Wooyoung laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist to set his chin on her shoulder. “It’s almost word for word how he helped me calm down when I was deciding whether or not to apply for the dance instructor position at work all that time ago. Don’t tell him that, though.” 

She hummed, taking in the sight of Hongjoong in front of her and the feeling of Wooyoung pressed against her. His thighs looked so strong. Supple. She wondered what it would feel like to stand between them, to knead her fingers into them, to nip and nibble at them. Painted nails tapped on the counter just beside them, stopping only when they swept along the surface so that Hongjoong could recline back.  

Wooyoung hummed also, straightened up to wrap his arms around her shoulders instead, head leaning against hers as he inspected his friend. “You look good up there, Joong,” he said, his words rumbling right into her ear. “You gonna stay up there the whole time?”

“Not if you want me to,” Hongjoong said, leaning fully back on his hands, his head tilting back even as he was looking down at them. It did wonders for his features, sharpening them, his eyes looking fierce from the angle and the makeup rimming them, drawing her in immediately. 

“I want a lot of things. For example, her,” he bit at her ear as he spoke, and she yelped in surprise. “I don’t care if you stay there or not. Just don’t be surprised if my knife slips in your direction a time or two.” 

Wooyoung paused, and she felt his gaze on her. He chuckled. “It seems she might want you to stay there, though,” he said, fingers coming up to slide along her jaw teasingly. 

Rora shivered. “He looks good up there,” she said, looking away from both of them. 

Hongjoong sent her a smile that just about bordered on cocky when she glanced up at him again, a brow ticking up behind his glasses. The move brought her attention to a fading x there, caused the shadow on his lids to glitter in the kitchen lighting. “Thanks, love,” he said, head tipping down just slightly so that he could maintain eye contact with her, and she was left breathless. 

Wooyoung snickered and stepped away from her. “Well, eyes away. It’s time to start cooking. We have a lot of food to make, and we don’t need any accidents happening in the meantime.”

So, they did. Hongjoong continued to sit on the counter, playing music from his phone and occasionally pulling them into a conversation. It was nice, and she even worked up the courage to lean her head on one of his thighs when she took a moment to bend over the counter. Initially, she was stretching her back, still a little tight from her period, even if it had already ended. But she also was enjoying his warmth, the soft firmness of his thigh beside her then beneath her cheek. 

His hand came down to brush her hair back almost absentmindedly, eyes looking up briefly from his phone, head tilting in question as he lifted the device. “Can I take a picture?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said, unable to stop the smile of appreciation from growing on her face even as his gaze locked back on his phone.

“Can I share them?” His fingers repeated the motions of smoothing her hair, and her eyes fluttered closed at the motion, breath puffing from between her lips as she let herself relax into the situation.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

 The soft moment, however, was interrupted by the sudden playing of a rock song, causing her to jump up and away from Hongjoong. They made eye contact, and both burst into giggles at having been startled. 

Wooyoung made a noise of disapproval, hand swatting at her behind lightly. “Quit slacking off,” he admonished, though he was laughing, too. 

“Don’t spank me,” Rora whined, moving back to her spot beside him. 

“Like you don’t like it.” 

“That’s not the point,” she murmured, cheeks burning as she focused on chopping the rest of the vegetables Wooyoung put in front of her. 

Hongjoong laughed. “He will fully bend you over this counter, spanking should be the least of your worries.” 

“Now that you mention it,” Wooyoung said, voice breathy and teasing. 

Her heart leapt into her throat when his hand pressed against the back of her neck until her chest met the counter, his other hand on her lower back, hips pressed tight against her ass. “It would be pretty fun, no?” he asked, voice rumbling right into her ear as he leaned over her. “Bend you over right next to Hongjoong, fuck you before the others get here. Leave you dripping with my cum for the rest of the afternoon. What do you think?”

“Youngie, there’s literally a knife in my hand right now,” she said, but her voice was breathless. Needy, even.

“Kinky,” he chuckled, nuzzling at her jaw. 

Rora turned her head to look up at Hongjoong, eyes large and pleading, prickling like there may be tears trying to build up. She blinked and found that her lashes were wet. She whined, a small, pitiful sound from the back of her throat as Hongjoong’s eyes raked over her and Wooyoung, phone raising in her direction once again. Her skin prickled at the sound of the shutter, burned under his gaze, and she was almost ready to say fuck it, to start begging Wooyoung to pull down her pants and pound her into the counter right next to his friend and his phone camera. 

Hongjoong sighed when Wooyoung started rubbing himself against her, placing his phone down, eyes and shoulders rolling as if he were exasperated with the situation. She shivered. He looked good when annoyed. He looked even better when he sat up fully, braced himself to lean forward. His thighs spread and muscular forearm contracted to hold him up properly as he fisted the back of Wooyoung’s shirt and pulled. 

She couldn’t see it fully, but she could hear the choked breath Wooyoung released as he was pulled off her back, could feel the press of something hard against her backside before she was left cold and wanting. She stood up straight, cheeks still burning as she turned to put her back to the counter. 

“You really can’t just keep it in your pants, can you?” Hongjoong tsked, letting Wooyoung’s shirt go. “The food is going to burn if you don’t stop acting like a sex-starved mongrel,” he said, pushing Wooyoung back until he was back across the kitchen, at the stove. “And Yunho has dibs on her.”

“How would you know?” Wooyoung murmured, voice petulant even as a shiver worked through him. She watched, thighs fighting to stay steady, to not clench as she noted just how hard he was in his pants, how one of his hands was fisting and unfisting the material of his black jeans. 

“You literally said it in the car earlier. Plus, I’ve been keeping the chat updated,” Hongjoong said, turning his phone screen to them. Her eyes caught briefly on a picture, her head resting on his thigh, those pretty hands in her hair, the black of his nails. Something about it made her heart stutter. Then another that quickly followed, of Woo pinning her across the counter, his arms flexing to keep her in place, hips arching into her ass, his dark hair falling free to frame the sharp features of his face. They were good pictures. In fact, she never knew she could look so good in pictures, could feel so sexy. Her gaze lingered even after Hongjoong turned his phone back to himself. “Mingi also says to keep your dirty paws off.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, and turned away from them, going back to finish what they were doing. As they cooked and talked, the others finally started to trickle into the apartment. First came Yunho and Mingi, bags of desserts in hand. They put the treats away, pressed kisses to her cheeks, then went to sit in the living room. Yeosang came next, looking shy but brightening up when she greeted him. He pulled a disgusted face almost immediately after when Wooyoung tried to kiss his cheek. She was giggling at the two scuffling around the kitchen when Jongho came in, and he wasted no time in wrapping fully around her, chin on her shoulder as he watched Wooyoung torment Yeosang and Yeosang do little more than complain about it. 

Rora was stirring the bubbling soup, Jongho still hanging from her frame, when the door opened for the last time. San’s wide shoulders came through first, his hand wrapped around a taller man’s wrist, tugging him into the apartment. The unknown man’s eyes darted around the space, and he paused when they fell on her. His eyes went wide, sparkling in the lighting of the apartment, glossy lips parting into a shy smile, cheeks dusted with pink. He was pretty. So fucking pretty. Long dark hair framed his face perfectly, curling behind his ears endearingly, bringing attention to his gorgeous eyes and softening his features, even as half of it was pulled back into a small ponytail. He was dressed in a simple sweater and baggy cargo pants, yet he looked equal parts cozy and elegant. 

She must have been staring for a little too long, because Jongho cleared his throat and squeezed her a little tighter. She turned to him, noticing a devastating pout on his face. She giggled, unable to stop herself from squishing his cheeks together. “Jealous, bear?” she cooed. 

He didn’t respond, just let her do whatever she wanted, letting his eyes drift over her face until she pulled away to focus back on the others. If her heart sped up under his perusal, that was only for her to know. The self-satisfied hum that vibrated his chest let her know that he, at least, knew too. 

As she looked around, she caught Seonghwa giving her another shy glance, those pretty eyes sparkling under his lashes and lips spread into another devastatingly pretty smile, and he looked so adorable that she had to look away, turning in Jongho’s arms to hide her face in his neck. A whine was stuck in her throat and her cheeks burned as Jongho’s chest vibrated with silent laughter. 

“Why are you suddenly so shy?” Wooyoung asked, pushing her away from the stove to take her spot, amusement dripping from each word. She peeked around Jongho’s shoulder to pin Wooyoung with a pout that had him laughing as he finished up the food. “You’ve been so bold this whole time, even with Hongjoong around. What’s changed?”

“Too many people?” Jongho suggested, hand smoothing down her back.

“Is Seonghwa too pretty to handle?” Wooyoung asked loudly, not giving her the time to reply, likely to fluster both her and Seonghwa in one go, the menace that he is. And it worked, dammit. Rora felt the warmth in her face as he glanced up from the stove, hands settling on his hips. “Color me jealous. You never flustered that easily for me,” he teased.

“Like you would give me the time to actually be flustered,” she quipped back with a playful roll of her eyes, like she wasn’t just flaring with enough embarrassment to power the whole apartment. 

“Touché,” he murmured, taking the simmering food from the stove even as he pouted. He moved carefully, brushing by them and taking slow steps to the living room. He looked so comfortable and domestic, bending down to settle the pot atop a folded kitchen towel, his hair falling over his eyes as he did so. He looked beautiful in a way that made her want to kiss him silly. 

Jongho’s soft laughter filled her ears, his breath puffing out over her cheek, and she leaned further into him. He hummed, nosing at her temple, letting his thumb brush over the nape of her neck as he shifted his hold on her, one arm around her waist, the other comfortably across her shoulders.

“Stop hogging her,” Woo butted in, walking by to grab some more food. “She’s supposed to be helping me with the food, not canoodling with you.” 

She blew out an amused breath through her nose and untangled herself from Jongho’s hold. Spying the dishes stacked together on some shelves over the sink, she walked over to gather plates and bowls for everyone. Jongho trailed after her, helping her carry whatever else she couldn’t carry and some glasses to the living room. 

San helped her settle the various bowls and plates on the table when she reached the living area, Seonghwa rising from the sofa to help Jongho with the cups in his hold. She stood back, unsure of where she was supposed to go, releasing a sigh of relief when Yunho grabbed her hand and coaxed her through the crowd of men. She brushed past them all, fingers laced with Yunho’s, glancing up when she stepped by Seonghwa. The smell of his perfume washed over her - something akin to a coffee shop that specializes in desserts but with a dark kick that had her hooked and curious. Sweet and warm and just a little spicy but soso comforting. She wanted to latch onto him and never let go.

Everyone gathered around as Wooyoung set the last dish on the table, squishing together in a way that might be uncomfortable to others but looked more than cozy and common for the group. Like the last time she was at the apartment, Rora found herself between Jongho and Yunho, shoulders brushing their own and her back against the sofa. San and Hongjoong sat on either end of the table. Mingi sat directly across from her, Seonghwa between him and Hongjoong and Wooyoung on his other side. Yeosang was squished in between San and Wooyoung, a playful annoyed look on his face as the two men smothered him with attention and pressed as close to him as they could. 

She let herself relax, pulling her knees into her body, watching the others talk while Wooyoung served everyone. She grinned at him when he gave her a portion, the smells of the food finally settling in, her stomach tightening with hunger she hadn’t been aware she was feeling until just then. 

They ate in relative silence, interrupted only by hushed questions for more of certain dishes or alcohol and murmured praises. When she was full, she leaned back into the sofa behind her, letting her head lean on Jongho’s shoulder, her drink balanced on her knee. He hummed at the touch, but remained nonchalantly eating his food. She didn’t mind, luxuriating in the press of his body against her own and the warmth that had begun settling in her chest from the alcohol.

“Are we gonna start this big talk or not?” Wooyoung asked when nearly everyone was done eating. Someone choked on a drink and upon discovering that it was Yeosang, several of the men sent Woo glares. He looked unrepentant at the abruptness of his question, rubbing Yeosang’s back briefly before leaning back on his hands, strong forearms supporting him as he looked around at everyone. 

Yunho cleared his throat, phone in hand. “I made a list of questions to help the conversation along,” he said. His ears went red as everyone turned to him, and he shrunk back a bit at the attention. “What? Mingi and I did some research.”

The others jeered and joked at his expense, and he waved them away even as his ears went red. Hongjoong, thankfully, took mercy on him, hushing everyone back into relative silence with a simple raise of his hand and a cocked brow. She marveled at the relative control he had over them all, thinking back to how Wooyoung called him the dad of the group. She could only watch on in awe as he then waved at Yunho. “Get us started, Yun. What’s the first question?” 

“What do we each want out of this?” Yunho asked. “I know that some of us aren’t really in the situation, and you may not want to be outside of becoming friends. Now is the time to speak up about these kinds of thoughts. Not knowing yet is also a valid response.”

“Pretty sure Joong wants in on all the fun,” Woo said. 

“Am I supposed to feel called out?” Hongjoong asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. “Of course I want in.” His gaze fell on her, burning over her skin until she flushed and looked away from him, hiding her face in Yunho’s shoulder. 

Yunho laughed, hand cupping the back of her head, fingers massaging her scalp. “Yeosang?”

“Yes,” Yeosang’s sweet voice filled the air, that adorable lisp warming her, even as she hid in Yunho. 

“Yes?” Yunho prompted.

A soft sound filled the room, and she pictured his cheeks turning pink. “I’m okay with anything she wants,” he said, voice low. Shy. 

“Wanna take you on a date, Sangie,” she said, peeking up at him from around Yunho’s frame. “Non-platonically.”

He giggled, a flustered smile taking over his face. “Okay,” he said, looking down shyly.

“Seonghwa?”

Silence filled the room again, and she turned to find Seonghwa looking at her, head slightly tilted, those eyes scanning over her with an intensity she wasn’t quite prepared for. Her brain stopped, and she could only blink stupidly at him as his expression morphed right into the sweetest smile she had ever seen. 

“Let’s start with a date and see where it goes,” he said, rocking in his spot, side to side until he stilled himself with his hands on the coffee table. 

She agreed, shrinking back into Yunho’s shoulder, causing everyone to laugh. 

“What about a joint date?” Wooyoung said. “Yeo and Hwa can both get time with her, and it’ll get them both out of the way.”

“Me too,” Hongjoong piped up. “I wanna spend more time with her, too.” 

 “Do we all have time tomorrow?” Seonghwa asked. 

Rora peeked out to see the three men looking between each other before looking at her. She giggled and nodded. “Sounds fun,” she said, wrapping her arms around one of Yunho’s. The fingers of his free hand pressed into her belly in retaliation, and she giggled, curling into herself at the ticklish feeling.

“Back on topic,” Yunho finally said. “Those who are already involved, I know this situation is still very new to everyone, but what would you want out of it? What expectations do you have?”

“I need communication,” San began. “And that comes from a need to establish mutual respect and trust. It’s the same with all the relationships I pursue - romantic, sexual, or platonic. I’m also quite affectionate and need intimacy with my partners, whether that be sexual or otherwise. The direction that this relationship goes is entirely up to you, darling. Just talk to me - talk to us - about it when you come to a conclusion, hmm?”

She nodded, preened under his soft smile and warm eyes. 

“I very much want a romantic relationship out of this,” Woo jumped in next, gaze steady on her, dark eyes intense enough to have her cheeks flushing. “And I expect my partners to share my affections and to give me the same respect that I give them. I like to do things for my partners or give gifts. But I can struggle with receiving love and affection in the same ways that I offer them, so I need to know that I’m appreciated and that my efforts are appreciated in the relationship.”

Her heart thudded against her chest at his words, and she hoped he could see how appreciative she was for his openness. She smiled, nodded, even sent him a little air kiss that had his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

No one offered anything after Wooyoung, and she sighed when collectively, they all looked at her. She fidgeted, pushed her fingers through her hair, straightened her back. “I don’t have any expectations that I can really put into words right now,” she said. “I just ask that we all understand and respect each other, and that we’re all kind about differences and when working through issues. Communication can be difficult for me, especially when the person I am trying to talk to is acting aggressively or yelling at me.”

A warm hand rubbed down the length of her arm when she stopped speaking, and she took a breath, willing her heart to steady as someone else began speaking.

“I sometimes need space, and I would prefer no unexpected visits into my space. But I also need quality time. Friends or otherwise, I want to be able to cherish the relationship and spending time with them is the best way for me to do that. We don’t have to do anything, just spend time together. Preferably romantically, but I’m also alright with a more casual friends with benefits, nameless type of situation.”

She nodded and sent Mingi a smile before letting her gaze drift to one of the men sitting beside her. His shoulders rolled back, and he straightened up as his other friends also turned to look at him. “Jongho?” she prompted lightly. 

“I hate that all I can say is that I don’t know,” he murmured, and she placed a hand on his thigh. “I just ask for understanding and quality time, really.”

Her fingers squeezed the plush of his thigh lightly, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Of course, bear,” Rora murmured. “And if you think of anything else you need or a label you do or don’t want, just talk to us. Or me. Or anyone, hmm?”

He nodded, relaxed. “I think I do want something romantic,” he admitted lowly, his eyes wide as they took her in. 

“I want that too,” she said, laughing when his cheeks went pink and he was suddenly avoiding her gaze. 

The others cleared their throats, and she looked around to see them all suppressing smiles and laughter, their eyes filled with adoration for their youngest friend. 

“Anyone have experience?” Yunho asked, tipping his head to press his cheek against her hair briefly.

She sat up, forcing herself to focus better on the conversation. The silence in the living room was loud, and she took a breath. It seemed she would have to be the first to talk this time. Someone cleared their throat, and she deflated in relief. 

“I’ve dabbled,” Hongjoong spoke up. 

Noises of disbelief filled the room. “Your jealous ass?” Wooyoung exclaimed

Hongjoong chuckled, raking a hand through his hair. “I know what I can and can’t offer my partners,” he said. “It’s been a while, but I’ve had an open relationship or two in the past. I never had many issues with it unless the communication wasn’t being prioritized. It was mostly my partners at the time seeking what I couldn’t offer to them when I was busy. But I…” he trailed off, wet his lips, ruffled his already messy hair with a sigh. “As Woo so aptly stated, I get jealous sometimes, and knowing what’s going on and what to expect really helps me work through that.” 

“Would weekly meetings to discuss among ourselves be helpful?” Yunho asked lightly.

“I think so,” Joong breathed. 

“We should work out some form of schedule or shared calendar,” San suggested. “That could help us work around everyone’s schedules and ensure no one is feeling left out or being pushed aside.”

She nodded her agreement, letting her eyes trail to him appreciatively. “I agree. A schedule or shared calendar would be incredibly helpful,” she said. “I want to get to know you all more, but I don’t want to feel like I’m offering someone more attention over another or for anyone else to feel like that’s happening.”

“We can have the meetings at the cafe,” Yunho suggested. “It’ll be a more neutral place to talk, and frankly, it has more space than any of our apartments.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the living room, and Yunho lit up with pride. “Anyone else with any experience?” His eyes fell on her, and she swallowed, nodded.

“I don’t have much experience with anything like this other than what’s already been happening. There was a threesome with a partner and friend at the time, and that was purely for sexual exploration. But when we branched into new relationship dynamics, it didn’t end very well for any of us.” She paused, cursing the alcohol in her system for bringing her emotions to the forefront, tears pricking behind her eyelids. She sniffled, shifting to wiggle into Jongho’s side, even as a hand stayed touching Yunho. “I’ve always been drawn to the idea of non-monogamy or exploring different relationships, but I haven’t had the opportunities to really do further exploration.”

Seonghwa smiled kindly at her from across the table. “This will give you all the opportunities to explore, then.”

She returned his smile. “I hope so,” she said. 

“Well, everyone already knows that Sannie and I don’t mind sharing,” Wooyoung said. “We’ve never thought to actually date the same person, and we’ve never shared while one of us was exclusively dating someone.” 

“I’ve thought about it before,” San said, looking over at his closest friend. “But I didn’t think my partner at the time or you would have been okay with it.” 

“I’m down for almost anything, dude,” Wooyoung said, reaching around Yeosang to push San’s shoulder. “You should know this by now.”

San simply shooed him away, his cheeks pink but those devastating dimples on full display. 

Mingi piped in before Wooyoung and San could start bickering. “Yunho and I have dated the same chick before,” he said casually. 

The room went quiet, everyone looking at him, then at Yunho. “When?” Wooyoung asked incredulously. “How did none of us know about it?”

“A few years ago,” Mingi said with a shrug. “No one asked, so we didn’t tell. And she didn’t really wanna tell many other people.” 

“Did research my ass,” Wooyoung scoffed.

“Technically, we did do research. Just didn’t say when or how we did it.” Yunho replied with a cheeky little smirk that she wanted nothing more than to kiss away. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s circle back,” Hongjoong said before anyone could ask anymore questions. “We should probably discuss exclusivity and what it might look like to each of us.”

Yunho nodded. “That was actually the next question,” he said, putting his phone away. “I’m personally chill with anything, open or closed. But I’m more likely not to seek anything outside.” 

Mingi made a sound of agreement, and looked at her. “What about you, doll?”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing anything outside this group, either,” she said, shyly. “It honestly sounds like too much work for me right now, especially with how new this whole thing is. And so far, I feel pretty fulfilled with what’s going on. But,” she paused for a moment, hands twisting together in her lap under the weight of the eight expectant gazes. She swallowed and forced herself to continue. “It’s worth mentioning that I do also like women and feminine-presenting people, and it could become something I want to explore further in the future.”

A murmur filled the room, and she looked up to see them all nodding at her words. 

Jongho shifted beside her, and she turned to look at him. His brows were furrowed and his hands were in fists on his thighs. “I don’t think I would be comfortable with you looking outside of us, either,” Jongho said, voice soft and shy. He looked unsure of what he said, and she reached out to smooth one of his hands flat, folding hers over his own. “The idea of it is…I don’t like it.” He sounded more sure with that statement. “But I also think that given time and communication, I could…I don’t want it to feel like I’m holding you back from something you might need in the future.” 

His words trailed off, and she pushed her face into his neck, kissing his jaw affectionately. “Don’t push yourself too hard, bear,” she murmured. “It’s not even a thought for me right now.” 

He visibly relaxed at her words, his hand turning beneath hers to lace their fingers together. 

“It would probably be best to start out with just us,” Hongjoong said. 

“I agree,” Seonghwa said. “It’ll be easier to figure everything out first then come back to this later.” 

“I agree, too,” San said. 

Woooyoung and Yeosang made their own sounds of agreement, and Seonghwa nodded. “It’s been alluded to but not quite mentioned, but let's talk about them specifically and get them all out in the open. What are your boundaries? Again, as Yunho mentioned before, being unsure is okay and we can talk again at a later time or as things come up.” Seonghwa said, leaning forward on the table, pretty hands framing his beautiful features. “Rora? Do you want to start us off?”

“I mentioned it before but I can get overwhelmed without knowing it sometimes, and it has led to some less than desirable situations for myself and the people I care about. So, I do need to prioritize a bit of downtime for myself on occasion.”

Everyone nodded, and she bit her lip, eyes closing as she tried to formulate the words she needed to say next. “I also can’t do just sex,” she said, breathing deeply and refusing to be ashamed or embarrassed. Her needs were important, and they were all asking for them. Her needs were important to them. She took another breath and continued. “There doesn’t necessarily have to be romance attached, but I can’t handle absolutely no connection. And I need aftercare after sex. It can be as simple as cuddles or talking or even from someone else. I just need something from someone.”

Yunho’s arm came around her waist, and Jongho’s hand found her hair. “With eight of us, I’m sure there will always be someone available to take care of you, honey,” Yunho said, and she blushed as murmured agreements immediately followed.

Everyone settled back into silence, looking around to see who would speak next.

“I just need to know when someone has an issue with anything so we can talk about it and figure something out,” San piped up. “You guys already know that, but with a new person and a new dynamic in the making…” he trailed off, and she noticed Yeosang’s hand settling on San’s thigh and Wooyoung’s arms reaching across Yeosang to settle on San’s shoulder. 

Wooyoung looked away from his friend and let his stare settle on her. “I know I can be alot to keep up with sometimes and I tend to invade personal space to get closer to someone. If I do that too much, tell me. Just don’t start pushing me away or ignoring me. I can’t handle cold shoulders or silent treatments,” Wooyoung said, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. 

The sincerity in his voice and the sadness in his eyes made her stomach flip, and she wanted to crawl over to him. She nodded, sent him a soft smile, letting herself relax back into the warmth around her when he sent her a smile back.

“Anyone else with a hard boundary?” Seonghwa asked.

Mingi’s hand popped up after a bit of silence, and everyone focused on him. He shifted nervously, but when he spoke, his voice sounded casual and matter-of-fact. “I said it earlier, but I think it’s worth repeating in a boundary sense, too. I need some time to myself on occasion,” he said, glancing at her with a look she couldn’t quite identify. “And I can’t really do unexpected visits. Stopping by the cafe is fine. The apartment is fine, too, cause I’m not the only one who lives there. Just not my room. I need a head’s up text or just a simple knock on my door.”

She nodded, letting what everyone said sink in as she looked around at them all. Warmth filled her, comforted with the knowledge that they were taking this seriously and were willing to talk this all through with each other and with her. That they cared about her. About her thoughts. Her needs. Even though she was still a new person in their lives. 

Yunho cleared his throat when no one else moved to speak. “There’s one last thing,” he said. “In my research, I came across a person who mentioned having a safe word in their relationship for when something gets too much and they need to step away. Do you think that would be helpful?”

“That’s something we should probably do, too,” Hongjoong said. “For the overall relationship, but also to keep sexual situations safe for everyone.”

His gaze fell to her, and she nodded. “I agree.”

Jongho hummed, let his arm sneak around her middle, fingers sneaking under the hem of her shirt to brush against the skin of her side. “Why don’t you do the honors and pick one for us?” 

“What about the traffic light system?” she asked, sneaking a glance around at everyone before her suggestion made her feel too shy. “Green, yellow, and red?”

Yunho hummed next to her. “I don’t see why we can’t use that one,” he said, hand falling to her knee, rubbing soothing circles there with his thumb.

“What does everyone think? Does that sound good?” Hongjoong asked, nodding when everyone agreed. “Then that’s settled. Is there anything else to talk about?”

Yunho looked at his phone for a moment, flipping through a document that she couldn’t quite see before he shoved it into his pocket. “That’s all that I had,” he said.

“How about finishing the night with a movie, then?” San suggested.

The television was turned on before anyone could agree or disagree, the remote held tightly in Wooyoung’s hand, a look on his face that suggested that no one else was going to be taking it from him. 

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Pride, Prejudice, and Pennywise

Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, tiny bit of Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: Sam’s movie night pick leads to some discomfort for you, but it doesn’t last long.

Author’s note: hey guys! Hyperfixation is still going strong, I promise I haven’t forgotten about my Sherlock fic! I’m just having so much inspiration for Supernatural right now, but I’ll be back eventually with another chapter, promise! For now, enjoy the fruits of my hyperfixation.

You and your oldest brother Dean had very little in common. For starters, he was the oldest Winchester, you were the youngest. He always agreed with your father, you rarely ever did–although unlike Sam, you didn’t voice your opinions often. Dean was stern, serious, and protective; you were always ready for a laugh. He was a flirt, you could barely hold basic conversations with people you didn’t know very well.

However, there was one thing you had in common with Dean; your hatred of horror movies. Although Dean hated them because he thought they were stupid and incredibly unrealistic; you hated them for a very different reason.

They terrified you.

Not that you would ever reveal that to Sam or Dean. After all, with the monsters, demons, and general malevolence that they faced during their occupation, you could hardly expect them to understand your fear.

But the brothers had kept you as far as possible from the hunting world, and watching horror movies just felt like a small snapshot of what your brothers must be facing on a daily basis. It was horrifying to think about. The horror movies just served as a reminder for all that you knew to be out there. Most people could watch those movies and brush them off as fiction; you couldn’t.

Unfortunately for Dean, and more so for you, Sam liked horror movies. The scarier the better for him. He claimed it gave him another angle to look at, a way to see the “fun” in their monster-hunting job. Well, that was all well and good for him, but you had lost many nights worth of sleep thanks to this little hobby of his.

Not that you could possibly tell your brothers–who had to be the bravest people in the world–that the unrealistic, stupid tv monsters scared you.

So instead, here you were, curled up in the small chair in the dingy motel room, Dean snoring in his bed and Sam enraptured in another horror flick. It had been his turn to pick the movie tonight, so horror it was.

You had tried to sleep through it, but you found that only hearing the screams, growls, and general fearful melee was much worse than hearing and seeing it, so you’d given up and gone to the couch to watch.

You tried desperately to look like the movie was gripping you with interest instead of terror, but you weren’t sure you were succeeding. Sam kept glancing your way, and you were afraid that it was because you were clutching your blanket just a little too tightly. Nevertheless, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, even if it meant Sam figured out your secret.

You had become so focused on trying to look like you were enjoying the movie, that you hadn’t even noticed that it had gone to a commercial, and that Sam had gotten up out of bed to stand next to you. That is, you didn’t notice until Sam spoke.

“Hey bub, you ok?”

You snapped your head up to see Sam frowning down at you.

“Yeah-” you cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice came out a little too high. “Yeah, just great, why?”

Sam glanced at the tv and then back to you.

“Well uh, it's just…” he let out a sound that was half laugh, half sigh, “You look a little freaked.”

You tried to scoff, but even you could tell it wasn’t very convincing.

“Freaked? Why, because of the movie?” you peaked a look at Sam, and weren’t at all surprised that he clearly wasn’t buying it.

“We don’t have to watch it if it scares you.”

You shook your head quickly.

“It doesn’t.” You knew you’d spoken too fast.

Even though Sam wasn’t buying it, he shrugged and returned to his bed.

“Ok then.”

The commercials ended and the movie began again. It was reaching the climax, only getting scarier and scarier. This had to be one of the worst ones Sam had ever played.

You couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper at one of the more gruesome jumpscares; you were lucky that it wasn’t a full-on scream.

You were surprised when the tv suddenly clicked off, and Sam’s voice broke the short silence.

“Ok, come over here.”

You looked up in confusion, before hesitantly rising out of your chair and going to stand by Sam’s bed, still holding your blanket around you.

Sam lifted his covers, gesturing for you to join him under them. You instantly obeyed, darting under the covers and curling into Sam’s side. You had wanted to do that since the stupid movie had started.

It was silent for a minute or two before Sam decided to speak.

“You could’ve just told me that these scared you.”

“They don’t.”

Sam scoffed, “N/N. I know you’re lying. You know you’re lying. So how about, you don’t lie, and I’ll let you pick a movie to watch tonight.”

You looked up in surprise.

“Really? But it’s your night!”

Sam laughed softly.

“Really. Apparently I've been scaring the crap out of you every time it’s my night to pick a movie, so I think I owe it to you to get an extra pick, ok?”

You giggled, “Ok Sammy.”

Sam’s smile dropped after a moment and he sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You moved your head so that you could lean against his chest, comforted by his heartbeat.

“Because it's stupid.”

“It’s not-”

“Yes it is. You and Dean go out-out there and fight monsters, real monsters, and I can’t even watch it on tv! You guys are fighters, you’re brave, you save people, and I can’t do any of that! I’m a-” You swallowed hard. You hadn’t meant to let all of that slip.

“You’re a what?” Sam had sat up, dislodging you from your spot, and was now staring hard at you. “Y/N, what were you gonna say?”

You dropped your eyes to your fidgeting hands, avoiding Sam’s penetrating gaze as you mumbled,

“I’m a coward.”

You winced when you saw the tear drip onto your hand. Great, now you couldn’t even make it through a conversation without crying. Gosh, you were pathetic.

“Hey,” Sam ducked into your field of vision so that you had little choice but to look at him. You couldn’t help but think that his eyes looked sad.

He feels sorry for me. It was the only explanation you could think of.

“Don’t you ever say that, ok? Never again,” His voice was sterner than usual, an authoritativeness usually reserved for Dean in his voice.

You felt a sob bubble up in your throat, and you couldn’t hold it back.

“It’s true,” you managed to get out between breaths and tears as you leaned forward against Sam’s shoulder. You felt his hands come up to wrap around you, and he placed his head on top of yours.

“No, no it isn’t,” he said firmly. “Kid, me and Dean aren’t some great heroes, ok? We’re scared too, all the time. We just do what we have to do, even when we’re scared.”

You sniffle, “Exactly! And that’s why you’re so brave. But I can’t do that.”

Sam pulled you back, an incredulous look on his face.

“Are you kidding me? You do that all the time!”

At your confused look, Sam just scoffed and continued.

“Who summoned that demon in Phoenix last September? Who drove Baby–for the first time ever–at twelve years old to come and save mine and Dean’s butts when we were fighting that group of vampires? Who snuck past seven spirits to get to the grocery store to buy some dang salt when Dean forgot to pack more? That wasn’t us, baby. That was you.”

“You’re the one who forgot to pack the salt.”

Sam’s serious expression gave way to one of indignation.

“Hey now smarty-pants, I’m trying to help you here!” you giggled as Sam dug his fingers into your sides. When he relented, you looked up at him with a much more sober expression.

“But I didn’t fight anything.”

Sam shook his head.

“You don’t always have to fight something to be brave. Were you scared all those times?”

“Of course.” You felt a little ashamed to admit it, and you were surprised when Sam grinned.

“See? But you did it anyway. That’s what makes you brave, N/N. And do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re the bravest of us all.”

You blushed, “Sam, don’t.”

Sam laughed, “I’m serious!”

You giggled, “Ok ok, I get your point. Can we watch a movie now?”

…

“So wait, we’re rooting for Lizzie and Wickham, right?”

Dean awoke to the sound of your loudly dramatic groan as you responded to the middle Winchester brother.

“No Sam, he’s a douche. We’re rooting for Lizzie and Darcy.”

“But I thought Darcy was a jerk.”

“Would you just watch the movie!”

“I thought it was Sam’s night to pick the movie,” Dean grumbled as he sat up in bed. There was no way Sammy had picked Pride and Prejudice on his night. No. Way.

Sam just shrugged, “I let Y/N pick this time.”

“You let her pick Pride and Prejudice?”

Your voice was annoyed, “This movie is great, ok! Just give it a chance!”

Dean retorted sarcastically, “Yeah ok, sure.”

…

“I can’t believe she turned him down!”

“Are you kidding? After the way he proposed, no one would say yes.”

“I’m sorry Sam, did you even hear him? Most ardently? I don’t even know what that means, and it almost made me swoon!”

“You’re crazy!”

“Enough!” Both brothers jumped in surprise at your outburst. “You guys can debate this over the commercial, but the good part is coming up!”

“You’ve said that at least twelve times already,” Sam said skeptically.

“Yeah, and I’ve been right every time! They’re all good parts, trust me.”

Sam and Dean both grumbled, but sure enough they quieted down to watch the movie. You smirked. You wouldn’t have thought it possible to get Sam and Dean Winchester invested in Pride and Prejudice, but here you were. And it was great.

Best. Movie night. Ever.

[rottenaero]

Family video was slow, as it always was on Mondays. Steve’d been stuck on shift by himself, and he passed time by flipping through the same five magazines that have been sitting in the desk drawer since before Robin and him had arrived.

Movies became a-lot less entertaining when you had to watch them 24/7, and you start learning the difference between a good film and a wannabe-camp.

Internally, he winced.

Robin was definitely rubbing off on him. All those days where she sat on the counter beside him, pointing directly at the screen, ranting about how unrealistically the girls are portrayed.

“Whiney and boy-obsessed, Steve!” She yelps. On the screen, Back to The Future is playing, and Marty’s mother is insisting he stay in her room.

He leans forward, onto the counter, and tilts a twizzler towards her. “Pretty sure it’s meant to be hot to people. Like imagining that it’s you she’s saying this shit to.”

“Of course it’s hot! But if it’s my mother then I wouldn’t be hanging around.” She hisses. At the same time Marty runs out of the door.

Instead of an action movie, or romance, he’s got The Parent Trap playing. It’s sweet enough that the occasional parent with a ‘sick’ child wadding behind them doesn’t scream at him for violent or sexual scenes.

The sound isn’t loud enough to disrupt him reading, which he’s thankful for.

The bell rings, and he throws out a, “Welcome to family video, I’m here if you need anything!” Without looking up.

“Harrington!” A familiar voice crows, and he rolls his eyes. Sets his magazine down open on the counter. He eyes Eddie, who has a grin already lining his face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school, failing your forth year?” He tuts, no real malice in his voice. Eddie sighs dramatically. “It hurts me that you forget. They let me off the hook! Free graduation baby!”

Steve stands, approaches where the register is, and leans his forearms onto the counter. “And, uh, when was this?”

He gets an unimpressed look. “You were there.”

“Was I?” His voice lilts, and he has to hold back a laugh at Eddie’s furrowed brow.

“You helped me get ready.”

“Does not ring a bell.”

“You talked me down from giving Higgins giving me the finger!”

“Hmm…” Steve hums conspiratorially. “You know, still doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Shithead!” Eddie yelps. A college girl from another aisle, that definitely should be at school, giggles. He sends a little finger wave to her while he speaks. “Munson, you better be glad that it wasn’t a mother.”

“Steve, Stevie, Steven-”

“Not my name.”

“Steven, you remember.” Eddie grins, and the girl starts walking towards them with two tapes in her arms.

“Is this all?” Steve asks with his customer service voice, as he shoos Eddie to the side. The girl smiles sweetly. “Yes, well…Actually I don’t have an account. Don’t you need a number for that?” She asks. Eddie scrunches his nose from the side.

“Yeah, what’s your name?” Steve slides to the create an account, and she spews out her name, and her number. “It already exists.”

“Oh,” Her voice isn’t shocked at all, “Well, how about you keep the digits to yourself? Maybe give me a call?” Eddie backs up, and fake gags out of her view. Steve gives him a glare. “Alright, well, your total is 5.27.”

She hands him the change, lets her fingers brush his before walking out with her discs. As soon as she’s gone, Steve lets his face fall. He rounds on the metalhead.

“Dude!”

Eddie tilts his head, “What’d I do?”

“What if she saw you?”

He sighs, leans onto the counter dramatically. “So I make one little face.”

“Are you going to actually buy anything?” He asks, cutting off the conversation before it just turns into a loop.

“Right, yeah! Where’s the-“ Eddie smirks, eyebrows raised, and rings the service bell before he lifts a hand like he’s using a salt grinder? “-Adult section.”

And that was definitely not salt. His nose scrunches, “Gross dude.”

Eddie shrugs innocently. “We all do it.”

“Robin doesn’t.”

“Robins not a guy.”

He’s about to bring up one of the kids, before pausing.

They’re highschoolers now, he doesn’t know what they do and he frankly doesn’t want to.

“Jonathan?” He suggests.

“Argyle has made a little too many right hand jokes about him for me to believe that.”

“God, whatever,” He sighs, points to the corner, where there’s a bead covered doorway. “Sections over there.”

He gets a salute in response before Eddies practically skipping away.

He’s so fucking weird.

Two people come in by the time he comes back out.

Which means that he was in there for a while.

He’s got three tapes in his hand when he walks back to the countertop, slams them on there. And Steve,

He really tries not to look. Because while some of the films in there are just R-rated, there are still some pornos and he doesn’t really wanna know what Eddie’s into.

But, it’s unfortunately difficult when he’s trying to scan the titles in. Eddies swaying back and forth, hands in pockets as he gets a glance at-

“Rocky Horror?” Dark brown eyes snap to him, and he nods approvingly. “Good choice.”

It doesn’t exactly fit his and Robin’s non-whiney-and-boy-obsessed-women regime, but they both enjoy it. It’s funny enough.

“You’ve- You’ve seen it?” Eddie asks, voice high pitched for a reason he can’t pin point. “Yeah, a couple times.”

“You’re sure you’ve seen this one, and not Rocky wrestler?” Eddie asks again. Steve huffs, “Yes, Janet, Brad, Tim Curry and Rocky.”

A “Huh.” Is muttered as Steve types in the title name to Eddie’s account, and moves onto the next movie. Poor Pretty Eddie, he’d never seen it, and flips it over, reading the description.

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s eyes squint as he nears the end of the paragraph. “Dude this sounds graphic, you seriously watching this with Rocky of all things?”

“I like my variety.” He states, slowly, sounding out every syllable.

Blood Thirsty Butchers is next, and Steve quickly types in the names. “What even are these movies?”

He gets a shrug. “I don’t know, I’ve only seen Rocky. You know,” Eddie smiles, leans over the counter further. “It more fun to watch a new movie with someone.”

Steve hums, “You want Darla’s number? Bet she’d watch it with you.”

“Steven,”

“Not my name!”

“Stephano!”

“Whatever,” He sighs, runs a hand through his coiffed hair. “Sure, I get off at four.”

“Seems a bit early, but whatever. What about work?”

“Ew, dude. Chill out, this is Family Video.”

“Is that why I saw a bunch of pornos back there?”

“Adult section- Just-“ Steve shoves the metalhead lightly off the countertop. “What time do you want to do this?”

An older lady walks in as Eddie talks, “How about five? You buy the pizza, and ring my shit up.”

“Or-“ Steve slides the tapes to him. “-You buy the pizza, I use my employee-free-rental on these.”

“Works for me, it’s a date, Steve.”

He shoos him away as the lady steps into the romcom section, “See you at five, freak.”

Eddie blows a kiss, “Miss you already!”

He shakes his head, grabbing his chair and magazine and dragging them to near the register.

What a weirdo.