#instead of brushing them off as unrealistic

[qqueenofhades]

Also having some not-entirely-formed but nonetheless interesting thoughts about the grimdark genre and how we’re often told that it’s the only valid fictional framework because it “reflects reality.” Wherein, evidently, everyone is morally relativistic and/or outright amoral, everything is bad and heartbreaking and violent, happy endings aren’t real, and that this is the only possible way for fiction to be “sophisticated” and “complex” enough to appeal to the oh-so-intelligent postmodern consumer, who only feels emotion ironically. And just.... really? That’s how all of “real life” is all the time, for everyone, everywhere? We’re supposed to just suffer and do bad things in reality AND in fiction, and that’s the only thing that gives the human experience meaning....?

Aside from being profoundly cynical, pessimistic, and, one would argue, not actually reflective of most people’s day-to-day lives on the individual and human level, it makes me wonder how much of this is a controlling/conditioning tactic used in the service of maintaining the status quo. Like, think about it. If you strongly believe that grimdark fiction “reflects reality” because everything is terrible and there’s no point in trying to change anything because everyone is just as bad and selfish as you, then are you actually going to do that in real life? I’m going to say no. Why exactly do we have so much media pushing this as the main message, and who stands to benefit from promoting a message that the world consists entirely of pointless cynicism and you should just kinda throw up your hands and give up on it?

Of course, this doesn’t mean stripping your narratives of all conflict, drama, emotion, darkness, genuine evil, and complex morality. As I’ve said before, I personally enjoy stories and characters that tend toward the thematically darker and more complicated, because it opens more avenues to ask important questions and come up with nuanced answers. Aside from the patently stupid argument that fiction should only reflect or represent things that would be “acceptable” in real life, trying to sanitize or censor it is as prudish and pointless as trying to sanitize or censor reality. So when I’m critiquing “grimdark,” that doesn’t mean all dark or violent fiction everywhere, or anything with themes or plot dynamics more complex than a fluffy coffee-shop AU. I mean the particular subgenre which makes the cynicism, violence, amorality, and “what’s-it-all-for?” nihilism its entire philosophical and moral point, and then holds that up as also being essentially representative of real life too, so that anyone who doesn’t get that also doesn’t get “the way things actually are” and is too naive and stupid to really think that they could have an effect on the world. And just... this is literally known to be, for example, Vladimir Putin’s exact mindset: make any change as difficult and painful as possible, demoralize anyone from thinking that positive morality is even desirable or achievable, or that the world is anything more than selfish, violent actors performing selfish and violent actions until they all spiral down into the abyss together. That is bleak as fuck. And if that’s what you believe, that’s going to be how you act.

This is even more ridiculous because people demonstrably like stories where there’s allowed to be genuine good, love, hope, healing, or redemption, even if it comes paired with that darkness, pain, death, grief, and trauma. The best recent example of this is, again, the Obi-Wan Kenobi TV series. There are plenty of scenes that are absolutely harrowing, emotionally and viscerally, and outright painful to watch just because of the amount of in-universe darkness attached to them and the fraught histories that the characters have together. But the series weaves a consistent message of goodness through it as well. Its entire central emotional conflict is about love, the loss of that love, and finding a way to move on even in the midst of that same dark night of the soul. It doesn’t cheapen or play down the pain and suffering, but it doesn’t make it the entire, agonizing, bash-you-over-the-head-again-and-again moral point. The hero is allowed to move on from it, and for his good choices to matter both individually and to the world at large. This was clearly a message that viewers responded to, both as Star Wars fans and more generally. They liked being allowed to experience a narrative where endless sacrifice, destruction, and suffering weren’t the only thing, even if they existed strongly. That there was more to life, and more to human experience, than that.

Anyway. Fiction and reality always complement and inform each other, due to the innate human fondness for stories and structured narratives that reveal something to us about our interaction as sentient beings living together in a society. I just wonder what changes to our current society would be possible if we started valuing this kind of story more.

[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.”

[muchosbesitos]

i bet on losing dogs

part two of congratulations series masterlist

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst (to nobody’s surprise), clothed grinding, and masturbation (f)

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: hi guys 😋 (with the intention you don’t hate me after this part)

word count: 6.4k

I always want you when I'm finally fine

Miguel had you placed in his lap, his lips ghosting on your neck in only a way that he was familiar with. His fingers gripped on your hips, moving you against his clothed crotch. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. The touch of him was consuming you completely, but the fact was that you wanted nothing more but to be completely absorbed by him.

You were fueled by the desperation of almost losing him, your body practically melting as his hands travelled over your body. It felt like he was exploring you for the first time, his fingers ghosting across every expanse and curve of your body. "You were always so beautiful," the sudden whisper by your ear had goosebumps forming all over your arms. He had a smile plastered on his face, the type of smile that allowed you to see the slight imperfection in his teeth. The one that you loved so much.

"I missed you," you didn't recognize your own voice, you were breathless. So affected by so little. "Yeah, what'd you miss about me?" his tone carried a teasing tone, his lips on your collarbone to leave a couple marks on there. Marks that conveyed that you still, undoubtedly, were his. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage as you rubbed your aching cunt onto his thigh. "I missed everything about you. Your besitos, your back rubs, and the way you fuck me," you managed to get out, finding it difficult to form any actual sentences now.

"That's it, use me however you need to," he whispered against your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your neck. The contact had you shivering, your cunt brushing up against the tent in his pants. Your hips swiveled as you moved against him, the friction stimulating your clit. "You're gonna cum from just my lap, hermosa? ¿Me extrañastes tanto?" his voice took on a taunting tone as he saw you squirm in his lap, getting close to your orgasm. All you could do was nod to his question, biting your lip to stifle any moans that were threatening to come out.

(you missed me that much?)

"You know I'll always wait for you, right?"

Now that part had gotten too unrealistic for your own sake. You opened your eyes, a discarded pizza box in the middle of your hotel bed and a vintage science fiction movie from the 20's playing on the television. If only you could've convinced yourself to stay in that dream for just a little bit longer. At least so you wouldn't have to deal with the insistent throbbing in between your legs.

Strings of slick connected your cunt to your panties when you slid them down, your walls clenching around thin air for some kind of friction. Maybe a cold shower would help? You weren't exactly responsible for your water consumption if it ended taking too long. You stripped off your pajamas, getting in the shower and closing the glass door behind you.

Your hand ghosted down to your vagina, your fingers running against your folds before you stuck one inside. Damn it. Despite the fact that you knew what made your body tick, you just couldn't find relief. Not when the dream was in the forefront of your mind. Not when you could practically feel his touch on your skin, leaving you all too desperate as you tried to imagine that your hands were his instead. You brought up your free hand to your hardened nipple, pinching it between your pointer and middle finger.

It was almost comical the way that your fingers left you feeling much more empty than when you started this whole ordeal. Another reminder that Miguel wasn't here. You shortly established a rhythm, pushing your fingers in and out on your cunt to get off. Your bottom lip was captured in between your teeth as you resisted the urge to moan, like people hadn't done more obscene things in these hotels. The cold water hit your clit, the swollen nub throbbing for some kind of stimulation as you worked yourself open.

You applied some pressure to your neglected clit, ranging from rubbing it in small circles to pinching it in between your fingers. Anything that would make this end. You chased the all too familiar feeling, the coil inside you tightening up before snapping in half. Your slick coated your fingers as you came, the cold water a stark contrast to how ignited your body felt right now. As much as you tried to convince yourself on the walk over to this hotel that you needed to get over him, you didn't know how you would even begin to start with that process.

You hated feeling this way, unable to get over Miguel. But in a way, how could you when everything just felt so unfinished between the two of you? Even before you left for California, the time between the two of you had been too short.

You leaned your body against the cold shower tiles, closing your eyes as the after effects of your orgasm washed out. Despite the fact that the throbbing between your legs was gone, you couldn't ignore the way your heart clenched at just the memory of tonight. 'Fiancée' kept running through your mind, how the man who seemingly had no intention of settling down was now about to become somebody's husband. Maybe you should've just gone back to sleep.

You truly hated Miguel O'Hara.

You hated his stupid crooked teeth. The way that his cheeks curved up when he was actually amused by something. His stupid geneticist jokes. The way that he seemed to know your body better than yourself, working you like an instrument with every single encounter. How his eyes only seemed to be reserved for you in every event, like you were the only one worthy of being looked at by him.

But most of all, you hated the way that your stupid, bleeding broken heart only seemed to beat for him.

"You could've told her the truth instead of letting her mope around the place like a kicked puppy," Tempest told Miguel as the two of them stepped into their shared apartment. He didn't need much more specification on who she was talking about, not when most of his attention had been on you for most of the night. The way that your emotions were so clear to see despite the smile that you forced on your face. How he wanted to kiss that little frown off your face.

Tell you that's it's always just been you.

He undid the buttons of his shirt, sitting down on the couch to take off his shoes. "Her and I were never anything serious, I don't have any reason to explain things to her," was the same excuse that he gave himself over and over to justify why he kept this a secret for so long. Tempest let out a scoff, but she didn't add much more to that as she slid her heels off. He itched to go and help her, but he knew he'd probably get a heel thrown at his head if he did.

Tempest went over to her own bedroom, making a beeline to switch out of the clothes that she'd chosen for the night before going back over to the living room. "Take it from the dying person. There's nothing selfish about wanting your own happiness," she told him, walking past his bedroom to head into the living room once more. Now there was food for thought. Prioritizing his own happiness instead of trying to fix the things around him. A thought that he didn't want to entertain right now.

He headed out of his room after changing out of his clothes, rubbing his eyes as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "You would've been a decent poet," he steers the conversation into safe territory, conversation that didn't involve how he was feeling. "Not really. I was gonna pursue something in sports, maybe in sports medicine," she responded, walking over to the kitchen where he was standing. Tempest was fairly decent at discerning when he wanted to drop a subject, so she decided on doing just that.

"Goodnight, Miguel," Tempest spoke up after a while, her body exhausted from the events of the day. She'd skipped out on her daily nap to go to the party with him, her body facing the consequences now. Not that she'd ever voice any concern though, not when she was getting free food and a free place to stay. As well as access to low cost healthcare.

"Good night. Let me know if you need anything," Miguel told her, passing her a bottle of water so she'd be able to take her night pills. Tempest looked over at her pill box reluctantly, taking out the small capsules before gulping them down. No matter how many times she swallowed the pills, the process of keeping them down never got any easier. Tempest gave him a small thumbs up, heading over to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. Not that he'd miss any movement that she made with the thin wall separating them anyways.

Miguel laid down in bed with one hand behind his head, his gaze directed at the ceiling like it would reveal some kind of magical answer to him. He had no actual responsibility to stay loyal to you, yet he knew that if the roles would've been reversed that he would've lost his shit. That he would've gotten down on his knees and begged you to reconsider, reconsider the happy moments that the two of you had together. Albeit, most of them short and temporary but still sweet.

He was doing this to help out Tempest. Yet, she showed more interest in having him be with you than he did. She probably felt guilty for being stuck in such a predicament with him, the thought backed up by the one time she'd asked him what he got out of this. He wasn't completely sure what he got out of this arrangement, really, but he knew was that some part of him felt inclined to.

One of the things that he did know was that he needed to see this through after what he’d promised her.

"Ay mierda," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the remaining salt out of the container. A couple specks fell onto the chicken he was cooking, barely enough to cover a millimeter of it. He turned down the heat on the stove, going over to his cupboard to rummage for some extra salt. He had everything in there, an assortment of oregano, paprika, cumin and yet, no extra containers of salt. He looked over at the electronic clock on his wall, trying to discern if he had enough time to go to the grocery store before realizing he had work in an hour.

The idea of potentially bothering his neighbor was almost enough to get him to turn around but he decided to stick it out. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? That they turned out to be a serial killer and his knock on the door was the last thing that they needed to snap? Fat chance. "Just ask for some salt. It can't be that bad, right?" he muttered to himself, looking over at the door as he brought his hand to knock. He swallowed back some of his nervousness, forcing himself to bring his hand over to the wood.

Miguel knocked on his neighbor's door, tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. Sounds of scuffling could be heard inside but the door remained closed. He knocked once more, hoping that this one would warrant some type of answer. "It's not a marketer or something, just your neighbor! I just need some salt!" he called out, realizing afterwards that he probably looked like a maniac shouting in front of a door. The thought of someone passing by and seeing him like this immediately made him press his lips together and wait in silence.

Miguel accepted defeat after waiting for an answer for a couple more seconds, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have enough time to rush out to get more salt without risking being late for work, deciding instead to just go ahead and make himself a microwave dinner. "Wait, sorry," he heard behind him, turning around to see his neighbor poking her head out through the door. Well, at least she didn't look like a serial killer. Still, he wouldn't let his guard down just yet.

"I have a bit of extra salt. You can come inside while I go get it," his neighbor continued, opening the door a bit wider just to let him in. The space was much more different to his own, much more full of ambiance and personality. While he used his apartment as just a place to sleep in whenever he came back home from Alchemax, he could tell that his neighbor had spent the time in making sure that this apartment was well loved.

His eyes darted down to the multiple bills scattered around in her kitchen table, his curiosity getting the better of him. Cancer treatment bills. None of them which lowered from the thousands. Tempest came back with the container of salt in hand, rushing to scoop up the papers before he saw too much. A couple of them flailed past her grip, slowly swaying from side to side before falling on the floor. Not that it helped, he already got the basic idea. Most of those were past their due date.

"Your insurance doesn't cover for some of it?" He knew he should've kept his mouth shut by the way Tempest immediately shot him a glare, but he just couldn't help himself. A part of him couldn't help but worry about the type of cancer treatment she was receiving, if any at all. Tempest let out a small huff, her arms folded across her chest. She was trying to put on a tough persona, but Miguel was able to look past that.

"I don't have insurance after I had to quit my job. I'm not exactly eligible for any services either so it's been purely out of pocket. Hence the whole bills on the table thing," Tempest finally spoke after she realized that her glare wasn't affecting Miguel the way she intended.

"Well.. my work offers insurance to those couples who live together and married couples. The guarantee for it working when you're married is much higher," he spoke up after a while, leaning behind one of her kitchen seats. To think he came over for a bit of salt and now he was making a whole wedding proposal. "Should've left you outside to get your own salt," Tempest muttered, almost laughing at how insane the situation sounded. Getting married just to get the treatment she desperately needed.

"You know, people technically get married out of love. Out of convenience, maybe. But just for insurance purposes?" Tempest brought up the topic, her arms folded as her gaze scrutinized him. As hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out why he was doing this. For a stranger, of all things. A part of her felt that this wasn't just from the kindness of his heart.

"You're acting like that isn't a marriage of convenience."

"Nobody's gonna believe that we suddenly just want to get married."

"Nobody else matters."

Tempest continued to throw out a couple of excuses to try to scare away Miguel from the prospect, getting met with rather simple solutions to her concerns. Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he was pretty decent at convincing her of this idea.

While you were in the shower last night, you'd gotten a message from Gabriel asking if you wanted to come over to his place. To which you agreed to eagerly. You were planning on watching romance movies for the day while shitting on them for the unrealistic expectations they set, maybe ordering a bottle of wine and pizza if you were feeling up to it.

"You couldn't have told me that you were planning on staying in Nueva York from now on?" his voice called out from the kitchen, Romeo Santos' 'Imitadora' playing in the background. He lowered the volume on his speaker when he listened to your footsteps approach, setting down the knife he had in hand. He was in a much better state than you'd expected, you were expecting to find him in a bathrobe with sunglasses on after the copious amounts of tequila he'd had last night.

"And you couldn't have told me Miguel was engaged? I almost made a fool out of myself," you countered, leaning against the counter as the different spices filled your nose. A mixture of adobo and garlic sizzling on a piece of meat he had on the stove. "You always make a fool out of yourself, though. Remember that one time you fell at the pool during my 21st birthday?" he retorted, leaning against the kitchen counter with an amused smirk on his face.

How could you not. You'd gotten more drunk than Gabriel that night, mixing up all different types of alcohol in an adventurous pursuit. You'd drunkenly called Miguel to pick you up after the night was over, stumbling over your feet when you walked over to his car. The two of you drove around most of Nueva York, though all the buildings blurred together in your inebriated state. One of the best memories that you had despite the throbbing headache that followed the next day.

The two of you ended up at a greasy burger spot on the skirts of town, though that burger had tasted like a slice of heaven the minute that it touched your tongue. You didn't remember that much about the event itself, but you could remember the overwhelming amount of safety that you felt with him. How comfortable he made you feel in his presence. How he entertained every single of your stupid remarks without much resistance, even adding onto it at times.

He'd taken off your heels and changed your clothes into something more comfortable, showing no reluctance to do so. "Shh, it's okay sweet girl. You just drank too much," he whispered in your ear, his hand rubbing small circles as you were leaned over the toilet throwing up. "I'm never touching another glass of tequila again," you groaned, a lie to both yourself and Miguel. He continued to rub your back throughout the ordeal, staying by your side through it all. "Yeah, I'm sure you won't," he remarked, handing you a napkin once you were done.

Every memory that you had in Nueva York was tainted in some way by Miguel O'Hara.

"I didn't think the two of you had anything serious going on anymore, I'm sorry. I would've said something otherwise," Gabriel finally said, adding in the tomato that he'd cut along with the onion slices. Fair point. You didn't really have a reason to expect anything, not when you and Miguel were just sleeping around with no semblance of commitment. "Nah, it's fine. I shouldn't have expected that he'd just be here waiting for me," you responded, glancing over at the stove as he cooked.

You looked down at your phone, a notification ping bringing your attention to it. You weren't expecting to see a message from Miguel, surprised at the fact that he still even had your number. Your eyebrows practically shot up to your forehead upon reading the contents of the message, an invitation to his engagement party with Tempest. You debated on not going but you looked over at Gabriel and asked,

"Hey, how do you feel about going to Miguel's engagement party as my plus one?"

Tell your baby that I'm your baby

You weren't sure who was the bigger idiot in this situation. Miguel for inviting you to his engagement party or you for actually accepting it. As much as you were willing yourself to be mature throughout this situation, you didn't have this much maturity in you. His apartment was adorned in a mix of gold and yellow, a couple streamers hanging off the walls and a couple balloons bouncing around. "Maybe we should go. Get some food at the bodega," you suggested, looking over at Gabriel.

"No way, you dragged me out here now we're gonna stick it out," Gabriel's words came out muffled as he stuck a hors-d'oeuvre into his mouth that a butler was passing around. Miguel had really gone out for his engagement party. "I'll get you food from another place?" you tried another approach, hoping that maybe he would ease up this way. He pointed with his mouth over to the wide array of plates set up at a table, the good looking much more inviting than any bodega you had in mind. You really didn't have any proper reason to leave.

Gabriel left your side upon getting approached by a couple of family members, some third/fourth cousins that had been dying to see him again. You looked out from a distance to see him dancing around with them, anything that would be a nice distraction from looking around for Miguel. Your eyes always managed to find him in whatever room you were in. Not that it was too hard of a task, though. You stepped outside to catch some air, to convince yourself that you could last at least another hour at this event.

You didn't fit either of their lives anymore. As much as you desperately wished you did. The thought had come to you while you were in the balcony, looking out at the night sky. Everyone had someone else to converse with, someway of knowing each other. The thought stung more than you could've imagined, that you were still stuck on memories and a fling from the past while Miguel had been perfectly capable of moving on. The champagne that you had in your hand went down easier than the realization of the bitter truth.

"Hey," you didn't need to look behind you to recognize who'd just stood next to you, the scent of his cologne practically gave it away before he even got the chance to approach. "Hey," you returned the greeting, keeping your attention out on the night sky. "Is the party not up to your liking? You don't have to be outside, y'know," he told you, stepping just an inch closer to you. A scoff escaped from your lips before you got the chance to stop it, an incredulous look on your face when you turned to face Miguel.

"Are you seriously asking me that? You invited me to this engagement party knowing damn well about our previous history together. You didn't even bother to tell me you were engaged. If we weren't dating, then we were at the least friends."

"I wasn't sure how you were going to react to it. You and I didn't exactly have anything all that serious," Miguel realized it was the wrong thing to say upon seeing your expression, the way your face scrunched up in disbelief. The excuse had worked pretty well to get Tempest to leave it alone, so he figured that it would've worked on you too. Never had he regretted saying something so fast.

"Seriously? You think that I hooked up with you throughout these years just because you were a decent lay?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? It's not like we did a lot of talking when you came over those past couple times."

"It was because I loved you, you idiot! If it was just about the sex aspect, I would've hooked up with someone back in California!"

"I was gonna tell you at the party that I intended to stay in Nueva York this time around. So I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," the words ran through Miguel like a cold bucket of water, the meaning of your words not at all lost to him. You had wanted to try again. Miguel wanted to pull you back into his arms, tell you that you were the one he envisioned having a future with. But... he didn't. He let you run off, looking at the back of your head before you eventually disappeared.

He stood at the balcony, letting himself ponder about a different alternative to this one. One where Tempest wasn't sick and didn't require his help. One where you'd never left for California, where you stayed by his side. Where the two of you would clean dishes, a cumbia playing in the background as the two of you basked in each other's presence. Where that would just be enough. Where this engagement party was for the both of you, an engagement ring on your finger. A thought that he entertained more and more often.

"Oyé, Tempest doesn't look too good," Gabriel's voice took him out of the fantasy he was in, immediately turning around and scanning inside of the apartment to see if he could find her. She looked winded, despite the fact he knew that she hadn't done much dancing tonight. "Alright, thanks," he cleared his throat, opening the glass door leading back to his apartment before going over to her. "Try to stand up for me, can you do that?" he spoke just low enough for her to hear, putting one hand on her arm.

She'd been sick for a couple weeks now, he knew that much. But he'd never seen her get this bad. The thought was enough to scare him into shooing all the guests away, rushing Tempest to the nearest hospital that he could find. "Come on, stay with me," his voice wavered, seeing the way that Tempest struggled to stay awake. Damn it, he'd never forgive himself for not taking her earlier to the hospital if she didn't get better. He put her favorite song on the radio to see if that made a difference. It didn't.

He rushed with her into the emergency room, beckoning for a nurse to come over after getting Tempest seated down on a wheelchair. She was still conscious, but she was unresponsive to everything going on around her. Her breathing sounded strangled, like the action itself was causing her pain. He found himself with his head buried between her hands, praying for the first time in a couple years. The action was strange to him, but he needed to have someone to depend on in this situation.

If only he'd come when these symptoms started to present themselves.

Tempest wobbled over her feet as she made her way down the small stage that the wedding boutique had set up. Miguel let her lean her body against him, her hand tightly pressed against his chest for some kind of support. "You okay?" he'd seen her get worse these past couple of days, but he decided it'd be better not to push her too much. "Yeah, it's fine," she sounded like she'd just ran a marathon, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to regain control of her breathing.

It'd be better not to make a scene out in public.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" Miguel prodded as the two stepped into the apartment, helping Tempest sit down on the couch despite her protests. She did hate when she got treated like she was weak. Tempest shook his hands off, taking a sip from the water bottle that he'd brought over. He could tell she was just itching to tell him that she was fine, not that the lie would do either of them any good though. "The treatment's just taking more out of me than I expected. The one today just left me feeling particularly weak is all."

"The doctor said it should be expected, Miggy," though the nickname annoyed him to no end, he knew better than to deny a dying person this small thing. Though the excuse didn't sound too coherent to him, he decided he would handle this the way that Tempest wanted to. Instead of him reassuring her, she was doing the task instead. Miguel really needed to do a better job at being a fake fiancé. He let out a small sigh, sitting down by her side and looking over at her with concern etched across all over his features.

"Just tell me if it ever gets too serious, okay? If you ever start to feel too sick or too fatigued. I'll take you to the hospital and I'll get you the best shocking cancer treatment there is, okay?" He told her, taking the water bottle once she was done with it. "I know and I appreciate that, more than you know. But I'm fine, I'll get used to the treatment plan eventually," she responded, the two of them getting into a conversation about what they wanted to order. He always ended up getting what she wanted to regardless.

He thought she was doing better after that, but maybe she'd just done a better job at hiding her sickness away from him. He'd seen her smiling and tending to her plants, even going as far as humming to them. An activity that distracted her from the fact that she couldn't be outside for too long. Little did he know that while the flowers bloomed and thrived under her care, she was decaying with each passing day.

I'm losing by their side

The doctor's words were starting to blur into the background, something about how the treatment plan had been too aggressive. That her body couldn't take it. It all sounded the same to him, really. Just pure gibberish that was meant to rationalize the loss.  "If you knew she couldn't take it then why'd you force her into such an aggressive plan?" Miguel kept his distance as he spoke, every word coming out like venom as he looked at the doctor. His hands balled up into fists but he remained in the seat where he was.

Last thing he needed was to deal with both a funeral and a bail hearing tonight.

"We thought that it was the best approach. She never complained about it," the doctor told him, keeping an even tone as he spoke. Miguel's stare was full of disgust, disgust at the way that he somehow made it sound like it was Tempest's fault. He should've gone to someone better, should've done a number of things differently. He really should've been less desperate when trying to help her. His brother's words ran through his head, so many should'ves and not enough doing. And now Tempest was no longer in his life.

The treatment plan wasn't something that was meant to heal her completely, but it was something that was meant to slow down the rate that the cancer was advancing. Instead, it'd only shortened the time that she'd been given. He blamed himself for not listening to her when she'd expressed that the medication and the levels of chemotherapy were starting to become too much, each session leaving her weaker and weaker. He blamed himself for not being able to save her even if the task was practically impossible.

He played with the engagement band that had once been on his finger, waiting absentmindedly for the doctor to come. He was still processing the fact that he wasn't going home with Tempest tonight, that he'd eventually have to go back home to an empty apartment. Nothing ran through his mind as the doctor gave him the full report of what happened, his gaze empty as he looked at the blank wall. No amount of details would change the fact that he wasn't able to save her. As hard as he tried to, he'd failed not only her, but also himself.

He couldn't bear going back home now, getting welcomed to an apartment that smelled like Tempest all around. From the cookie batter that she'd been making earlier to the scent of her perfume permeated on the couch cushions. It was all too much. Having all these little reminders with the knowledge that they'd soon fade away with time. So he found himself driving over to your place without much thought. Your presence was a calming one, one that would anchor him down to earth before he did something stupid.

Headlights flashed in a flurry of colors, the brightness on some of them almost hurting his eyes as he sped down the streets of Nueva York. "What the shock are you doing, man?!" He heard an angry driver scream behind him, a loud honk following after. He should've been more cautious, he really should've. Cars were swerving to get out of his way on the road, a train of honking following him with every red light that he disregarded. But his brain was on autopilot. His only mission was to get to you.

A distraught Miguel was not what you were expecting to see on your doorstep at two in the morning, but yet here he was. His eyes were brimmed red, tears leaking out of him like a faucet as they combined with the rainfall. His grey Alchemax hoodie had turned into a darker shade, his body shaking in front of you. He hadn't even registered that you'd opened the door, his attention on a speck of dirt that laid on your doorstep.

His body clung onto you when the door swung open, holding you the same way a child would hold a teddy bear for comfort. "I couldn't save her," he babbled, his throat raw as he spoke. After the initial shock fizzled out of your body, you rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. "I tried, te lo juro que trate," he repeated as he held you close to his body, needing something to stay stagnant for now.

You stayed quiet, providing him the comfort of your presence and your touch. His shoulders shook with each sob that escaped his body, his chest heaving as his lungs struggled to catch up to him. "I know you tried, Miguel," your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to sob, his grip on you tightening. Something to tether him to reality. "I did, I really did," he whispered, sniffling before more tears began to roll down his cheeks. You'd never seen him cry this much before. Never seen him cry ever, actually.

You set the cup of tea down, his hands shaking as he reached over to grab it. A couple drops fell onto the floor when he tried to get a good grasp on it. "I'm sorry, I know I'm making a mess out of your apartment," he'd made a wet spot on your couch after taking a seat, not that it was your first concern at the moment. "Hey, no. You've got nothing to apologize for," you assured him, taking a seat next to him.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it as he took a sip from the chamomile tea that you'd brought over. His throat bobbed as he struggled to keep it down. A part of him was convinced that he didn't deserve to be treated this way, with such care and delicacy. After he'd treated you like something disposable, as something that didn't matter. But he couldn't help and be selfish, enjoy the feeling of having your concern directed towards him. Of having you still care about him.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, his cheeks completely tear-streaked as he looked up from the floor over to you. He got up from the couch, taking off the wet hoodie that was practically pasted onto his body by now. "I have some clothes that you can borrow," you told him, seeing the hesitation in his face as he debated on taking off the rest of his moist clothing.

You took out a black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that he'd let you borrow one time after staying at his place a couple years back. A pair of clothes that you told yourself you'd throw away time and time again, only to let them reside in the back of your cabinet. You were thankful that your reluctance to move on really paid off in this moment. You made your way over to the living room, not feeling comfortable with leaving him alone for too long while he was feeling like this.

You passed him the dry set of clothes, picking up the wet pieces from the floor before leaving to the kitchen to give him some time to change. You set the dry clothes in the dryer, starting up the first round before walking back over to the living room. Miguel's movements seemed delayed as he struggled to put his shirt on, like his brain wasn't communicating properly with his body at the moment. "Here, I got you," you instinctively found yourself needing to help him, pulling the shirt down to cover him up.

He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing right on your floor.

You'd grabbed a blanket over from a closet, placing it down on the couch cushion next to him as well as a plush pillow. "Try to get some rest, okay?" you told him, shutting off the light before starting to make your way back into your bedroom. "Do you mind staying here with me tonight?" his voice was unnaturally quiet. You were sure you would've missed it had you not been paying attention. You weren't sure what the protocol was for sleeping with somewhat of an ex but you decided to oblige.

His arm snaked around your waist in an attempt to hold you close, his body heat practically radiating onto your own body. His body shook behind you but he made no noise, an occasional sniffle here and there. It pained you to see him this upset, without being able to do much other than just offer him your comfort. You wanted to be able to take away his pain despite how upset he'd made you these past couple months. It pained you to see him so helpless, so willing to blame himself despite not having any actual fault in it.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when Miguel's body finally fell slack, snores the sound of lawnmower escaping from his lips. Every time that you tried to adjust his body, the grip he had around you tightened in an attempt to keep you in place. He couldn't bare to lose you too. Even if it was just for a couple seconds. You shut you eyes, trying to will yourself into falling asleep. After a while, you just stopped trying and let yourself get consumed into sleep.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @mvlanchqly @tomalymme @boringpersonality @laysmt @scaryplanetdestroyer @crimin4llyins4ne @cheerrioeoz @peachey-pie

[aestheticaltcow]

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.

 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.

[emphistic]

If it’s okay with you, can I request modern day Sukuna comforting an overwhelmed reader who’s so stressed to the point of crying?

a/n: i, personally, am really bad at comforting others so i did a little self-projecting lmao — also, apologies to anyone who drowns in my sea of commas

You down the rest of your energy drink before rubbing your eyes and checking the time on your phone. 10:47pm, you sighed.

This was going to be the third time in a row that you pull an all-nighter. But it was okay. Albeit thousands deep in student debt, after you get financially stable it would be okay. When you're able to sleep without worrying about loans, it would be okay. When you're able to think without another assignment getting in the way, it would be okay. When you're able to have a relaxing night to yourself, it would be okay. When the eyebags finally decide to go away, it would be okay.

It would be okay. It would be . . . okay.

Okay?

Just okay?

You didn't need 'okay'.

Completely and utterly exasperated, you didn't even notice the tears beginning to slip down your cheeks. Quickly, you moved to wipe them away with your sleeve.

You didn't need 'okay'. You needed . . .

A hand — which you figured to be belonging to your pink-haired boyfriend, Sukuna — swiftly pushed the lid of your laptop down. "You need to learn how to take a break. Relax, kid. You haven't come to bed in days, much less: slept, even." I miss you, he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to.

"Heyy, I was using that. Sukunaaa," you turned to look at the man, jutting your bottom lip out into a pout.

"You should be thanking me, actually. You've been practically living off caffeine," Sukuna gingerly grabbed you be the arm and peeled you off of your chair.

"You stink, by the way," Sukuna remarked.

"I'm busy, 'Kuna. I have to get back to my work, the due date is—"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Sukuna guided — more like dragged — you to your shared bedroom, and then into your bathroom, forcing you to sit on the tiled floor whilst he drew you a bath.

Your head, and the rest of your body, leaned against the tub; your eyes kept threatening to close, but you didn't let them. Instead choosing to continue staring at Sukuna's bare back and his unruly bed-hair.

He must've awoken and climbed out of bed just to come fetch you. Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you pushed it aside, thinking it too unrealistic.

Unbeknownst to you, you were actually wrong — maybe not in the way you imagined, though. He didn't wake up to fetch you because. . . He was never sleeping in the first place. The absence of you in his arms had kept him awake, staring at the desolate ceiling, tossing and turning — until he couldn't take it anymore, which leads you here: to present time.

Sukuna stopped the flow of the water, breaking you out of your thoughts; he turned towards you and squatted down to help you remove all your clothes.

He slowly lifted you into his arms and placed you into the bathtub, before moving to step out of his sweats.

To this, you raised a brow. "Huh? What are you doing?"

"You're not the only one in the house who needs to regularly bathe, duh."

Sukuna entered the tub behind you, pulling your back to his chest. You attempted to start washing yourself but Sukuna grabbed your wrist, kissing your knuckles, adding, "Let me take care of you. Just sit still and look pretty f'me."

The amount of tenderness and compassion that Sukuna used while washing you made you hum in content. While the sloshing and splashing of the water nearly lulled you to sleep — (assignments successfully long forgotten).

When you stepped out of the tub, Sukuna had to hold on to your waist just to wrap your towel around your middle, as you continued to sway in your exhaustion. Your legs could barely hold you up. And that didn't change a bit whilst the pink-haired man also helped brush your teeth.

It did help that Sukuna had forced you to lay down while he massaged you, though. He got on his knees and massaged and rubbed your feet, your back, and the rest of your sore spots.

Sukuna had never gotten on his knees for anyone — excluding carnal activities — but he would do it for you in a heartbeat. So he did. He got on his knees, for you.

Moments later, he rolled you onto your back before crawling into bed next to you. You immediately curled into his side, his arm going to wrap around your waist.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing in the scent of your lemony shampoo and whispering into your hair, "Go to sleep."

"Noo," you snuggled impossibly closer to his chest, seeking his warmth — which you obviously received.

"Idiot. Your body is practically crying out to you at this point. If you don't close your eyes, I'm going to give you a reason to." Sukuna used his middle and index finger to push your eyelids shut. You relented, quickly entering slumber land, and dreamt.

When you woke, your pink-haired hunk of a boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Seeing your chance, you immediately stretched, yawned, and hurried over to and opened your laptop. Planning to continue where you had left off, only to find that all of your assignments had already been done: written and submitted.

Riiiight, Sukuna was not only handsome, but he was also freakishly smart. Silly you, must've forgotten.

A/N: i usually write sukuna as being a dumb, typical bad boy, but lets switch things up just this once (maybe)

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso

[wcters]

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 750+

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

warnings/notes: swearing, established relationship, periods, 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. You nodded, taking the pillow off you 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 tbh 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, curling up. “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 in a Disney movie, 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.”

[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.”

[goldyeokki]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY ★ NAKAMOTO YUTA

★ GENRE! ★ smut

★ SYNOPSIS! ★ much to your boyfriend's annoyance, there's another guy who doesn't seem to know his place when it comes to you. nakamoto yuta knows that he's the only one you want but that doesn't mean he can't have a little bit of fun in claiming what's his.

★ WORD COUNT! ★ 5,630 ★ CONTENT WARNINGS! ★ pet names (doll, pretty, baby); exhibitionism (yuta fucks you while you're on a call); dirty talking; size kink (big pp yuta); multiple orgasms; possessive!yuta (but like, in a hot and healthy way); kinda mean dom!yuta; dom/sub dynamics; breeding; choking; unrealistic display of strength; use of sex toys (egg vibrator); dumbification; dacryphilia; edging / orgasm denial; degradation (use of whore, slut, fuckdoll on reader); edited only by grammarly dot com

★ HUA'S NOTE! ★ weehee surprise fic! bam! it was inspired by this twt thread that appeared in the middle of neo fancams on my feed. very hot. very yuta-coded. been rotting in my brain ever since. i will be back on my wips (see: bullshit) soon, expect maid nohyuck in the second week of august teehee~

ever since the new hire in your office laid his eyes on you, he hasn’t been able to leave you alone. he’s cocky and arrogant and you’re almost always getting backed into a corner by him. it’s absolutely annoying and not once have you managed to shake him off. you’ve told him that you’re in a happy and serious relationship countless times but you have a feeling that he won’t take that as an answer.

you’ve told your darling yuta about him, lamenting about how he’s been getting on your nerves. your boyfriend has been helpful enough to support you through it which is more than enough for you. as much as you would love for yuta to come in and pick you up from work or send you lunch that you ‘forgot’ to bring along that morning, your schedules don’t seem to match up. he’s a decorated tattoo artist in the well-known neo studios and you’re just a consultant in a public relations firm.

to your absolute dismay, when the new hire was added to the office group chat, he managed to get a hold of your number against your wishes. it was inevitable but the fact that he sent you a text first instead of introducing himself in the group chat was nothing short of shocking. you’ve formally filed a hr complaint to protect yourself but it appears that nothing has been done, especially when he enjoys using work as an excuse to talk to you.

it’s a peaceful saturday evening, catching up on your favourite tv show with yuta. you’re sitting between his legs, back snug against his chest while his arms circle around you. your fingers are intertwined, his nose in your hair as he absentmindedly plays with your hands.

all of a sudden, your phone rings on the nightstand. you reach over and see the new hire’s number. annoying. he doesn’t even give you time with your boyfriend. you silence the call and toss your phone somewhere on the bed.

“you okay?” yuta asks quietly, tucking locks of your hair behind your ear. you nod wordlessly and take his arms to wrap them around you once again so you can play with his fingers. you know that he doesn’t buy your poor attempt at brushing it away but he doesn’t pursue the topic any further. instead, he kisses you on your temple and squeezes you gently in his arms. you figure he has an idea who it is and you’re thankful that he’s not at your doorstep at least. when your phone quiets down and your coworker leaves you alone, you breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

. . . until it starts ringing again, not even five minutes later.

a heavy sigh exhales through your nose as you glare at your phone. that guy should know that you’re with your boyfriend. god, you don’t even want to learn his name at this point. you get up with an annoyed groan and grab your phone.

“is it that guy again?” yuta’s voice calms you down for a little bit as you debate internally whether or not you want to answer the phone. he moves along with you and reaches for the remote to pause the show, filling your shared room with dreadful silence.

you turn to look at him and cock an eyebrow upwards at his tone. he raises both eyebrows at you in faux shock.

“he’s just a coworker, you know that.” at your reassurance, a cheeky grin immediately breaks free. you roll your eyes in an attempt to keep being annoyed but you can never really feel upset with your darling boyfriend. except for when he watches new episodes without you.

“yeah, i know, pretty. go on and take the call.” he urges sweetly while he pulls you between his thighs and nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. you click your tongue, not wanting to answer the call but you know that you have to. this loser probably would be free enough to keep calling you all day or blow your phone up until you reply to him.

you sigh one more time for good measure in hopes that the ringing will end but alas, it taunts you in mockery. you lean against your boyfriend’s chest as you slide the green button across your screen in contempt. he chuckles quietly against your ear, enjoying being in your presence while you take the call.

“hey, it’s ilsung! from work.” you bite back the urge to snark back and say “yeah, i know.”

“hi,” you politely respond with a tight-lipped smile. if he sees you fake a smile, you know for a fact that he’s going to mistake it as some form of flattery towards him. “did you need me for something? it’s a saturday.” there’s a fine line between being friendly and professional and you’re proud that you’re able to tread it so freely. unfortunately for you, the person on the other side of the line doesn’t.

“oh no, i just wanted to chat with you. how are you?”

you open your mouth to reply but your words die in the back of your throat when you realise that your boyfriend’s fingers have wandered all the way down to your panties. you have a habit of wearing nothing but one of yuta’s shirts and just a pair of underwear, especially on lazy days when all you both want to do is just stay in and not move from the bed at all. his middle finger easily finds the hood of your clit and starts circling it over the thin cotton fabric, rendering you speechless.

“y/n?”

“don’t leave him waiting, doll.” you swallow thickly. in a feeble attempt to stop your boyfriend from distracting you, you try to clamp your thighs together and restrict access but he’s far quicker and stronger than you are. he steels you in place, tutting in disapproval and that is the second that you begin to submit to him slowly.

“uh, yeah,” you lamely reply. “i’m good. and you?” you don’t care how he’s doing. you’re too preoccupied with the long finger that switches between toying with your sensitive bud and gently running up and down your folds. he knows just how to get you worked up, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder where your skin is exposed. he’s quietly issuing you a challenge, you think, to get your coworker to understand the hint that you’re not interested and you want nothing to do with him because you already have a boyfriend who spoils you.

ilsung continues to talk about himself even after your short, clipped answer. your gaze is glued to yuta’s fingers dancing up and down your wetting slit, heat pooling in your core as your breath starts to hitch. when he knows that you’re too lost in the intoxicating feeling of his fingers toying with you, your boyfriend releases the grip that he has on your thigh. his free hand moves to your underwear and you were expecting him to slide it to the side, but he doesn’t.

instead, he slides two fingers underneath the fabric, gathers it with a quick curl, and pulls it up, pressing it against your hardening clit. you gasp at the sensation, stiffening up immediately but he shushes you in your ear. as if this isn’t punishment enough, he decides to rub more salt in the wound by bringing his other hand to your lips, index finger lingering with the scent of your arousal as he wordlessly tells you to keep your volume down.

you’re torn between telling ilsung to use a dating app so you can focus on your boyfriend and ignoring said boyfriend’s ministrations so you can hear what boring stories the sad sack of a man has to share with you. you catch bits and pieces of whatever he’s talking about but not enough to be able to follow the conversation properly. suddenly you’re thankful that ilsung is so engrossed in trying to sound interesting to you that he can talk your ear off without noticing much.

yuta tugs at your underwear again and you gasp quietly, praying to some diving being in the big blue sky that the man on the other side of the line didn’t hear it. your free hand is wrapped around yuta’s wrist weakly when he teases your wet slit.

“are you a family person, y/n?” your name sounds so weird coming from ilsung’s mouth.

“sure.” you reply absentmindedly. he continues talking—you’re sure he slid in something about how he finds it attractive when someone is a family person—but you don’t really care. the thought of getting caught fucking while you’re on the call with him sends a hot rush to your core. involuntarily you clench around nothingness at being claimed by the man toying with your awaiting pussy.

yuta’s middle finger circles your throbbing nub, free hand moving your underwear aside so you both have an unrestricted view of him having fun. you feel something poke you against your lower back and you squeeze your eyes close. as much as you want to throw caution into the wind and let your boyfriend take over, part of you feels guilty for hanging up with no explanation.

“he sure loves to talk about himself, huh?” your boyfriend’s soothing baritone fills your body with a wave of calmness. his free hand gently massages your thigh, dangerously close to your core as he continues dragging the digit between your folds, teasing your entrance before running up to your clit. “what kind of useless man woos another person like this?” there’s an edge of mockery in his tone and you know that this comes from a place of both pride and annoyance.

he’s not the only one who’s seething with annoyance, though. you have to hold a conversation you’re not fully invested in while getting teased by your own boyfriend. you start to drag your phone away from your ear, ready to turn to yuta and hang up, but he quickly grabs your wrist and presses your phone back to where it should be.

“no, no, baby,” he tuts disapprovingly. “you’re on a call. be a good doll and take it.” he punctuates his instructions by shoving his middle and ring fingers into your cunt without warning. you gasp from the sudden movement but it’s immediately silenced by him clamping his palm over your mouth. “keep quiet, pretty thing. you don’t want the poor guy to find out you’re getting fucked while he talks so sweetly to you, do you?”

he starts to drag his digits in and out of your clenching walls, curling them into a hook to graze the spongy spot that’s the key to making you come undone by his hands. a whimper is stuck in the back of your throat when he moves his hand away from your mouth, choosing to slide it under your shirt (it’s his) that you’re wearing. the calloused pads of his index finger and thumb pinch your left nipple as another warning but all it does is threaten to make you moan for him.

“so y/n, what are your plans for the weekend?” ilsung saying your name for the hundredth time captures your attention. every time your name comes falling from his mouth, you want to cringe yourself out of existence. you’re convinced he read one of those self-help books that uses psychological tricks to get you to like him back.

“uh, well . . .” your voice comes out a lot shakier than you expect it to. you clear your throat, trying to ignore the way yuta’s long fingers are making scissoring motions to stretch out your stubbornly tight walls. “i had a long week so i– ngh– just wanted a . . . a lazy weekend with– mm– my boyfriend.” you mentally give yourself a pat on the back for being able to articulate a sentence while making sure you don’t accidentally whore yourself out through the phone.

“right, yeah, boyfriend,” ilsung laughs dryly. you almost want to throw your phone across the room. you have mentioned yuta more than once and your entire office knows that you’re in a happy and healthy relationship. why does this one guy who just joined a week ago think that you’re lying about having a boyfriend so you can ‘play hard to get’? “your boyfriend just lets you talk to other guys for so long on the phone?”

“you were the one who called me and didn’t stop talking about yourself for ninety percent of the call, you self-absorbed jackass!” . . . that was what you wanted to say. you hold yourself back from doing so, but a soundless moan escapes your lips instead when the multitude of simulations on your body does nothing but turn you into putty in your boyfriend’s hands.

yuta continues playing with your nipple and chest, groping while his other hand starts to increase its speed. his wrist snaps up and down so flawlessly as the heel of his palm bumps against your clit to provide barely enough friction. the sound of your wet slick mixed with the steady, rhythmic pap pap pap fills the otherwise quiet room.

you throw your head back and rest yourself against yuta’s shoulder, completely depending on him to break your fall because you’re weak and you can feel the hint of an orgasm creeping upon you.

“i–“ you swallow a moan, eyes squeezing shut to physically resist a whine when you hear his dark, mischievous chuckle in your ear. “he’s not insecure.” the words slip from your mouth without meaning to and your boyfriend near damn cackles in your ear.

“that’s gold, baby.” he grins while pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder.

“it’s not whether or not he’s insecure, i just wouldn’t . . .” you immediately tune ilsung out and focus entirely on yuta’s hands on your body. he continues rolling your pert nipple between his thumb and index finger until it’s rock hard, stretching you out by slipping in a third finger which threatens another moan to break free.

“yuta . . .” you turn to try and look at him, ready to say fuck it and have him take you immediately. his digits are diving deep inside of you, slowly coaxing you to your high.

“what is it, doll?” he hums in faux curiosity. “my fingers aren’t enough? you’re such a slut, begging for your boyfriend’s cock while your nice and friendly coworker is asking you about weekend plans.”

his hedonistic words and heavy rasp send a hot rush to your core and you clench around him at the sheer thought of being stuffed full by him. he mocks you so freely while you’re stuck between being embarrassed and turned on. 

“god, look at how you hard clenched around me. three fingers and you’re still so damn tight,” he seethes under his breath. he pinches your nipple hard enough to draw another reaction from you and you feel his erection twitch against your lower back.

“need more of you, yuta,” your throat is dry, hips bucking in with every snap of his wrist up into your wet pussy. “i give up, i need you!” you plead with a slight croak in your voice. there’s a knot that starts to gently form in your lower belly, building up to your first of several orgasms.

your phone has already dropped from your ear, hand holding onto it where it sits pathetically against your thigh. you just hope that ilsung wouldn’t be able to hear, think you’ve lost connection, and then hang up. that’s the best-case scenario that you hope for, at least.

a taunting laugh leaves his lips when he drags his fingers from your drooling cunt and completely withdraws his hands from you. the tease of an incoming orgasm disappears just like that and you try to suppress the whine that almost falls from your mouth.

with his clean hand, yuta grabs a pillow for you before he presses your cheek against the silky fabric. you already anticipate him to remove your underwear—and he does!—but instead of dragging them off your legs, he rips them apart with his bare hands like it’s made out of paper. your lids flutter shut at the stinging sensation of the fabric snapping apart against your skin. you hear a soft thump next to your head and you see your phone, still on the call with an ilsung who’s calling out your name, visibly bothered by your lack of response.

“yeah, i’m still– oh!” you’re barely given the opportunity to reply when a warm tongue buries itself deep inside you. your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you, the fabric of your shirt sliding towards your chest as you arch your back instinctively.

“is everything okay?”

“uhuh,” you weakly mumble. “just stubbed my toe.” such a cheap, white lie but ilsung buys it immediately and continues talking despite some hesitation. he’s probably talking about his exes, but why would you care? you’re zoning in on the pleasure that your boyfriend’s tongue is bringing you, massaging your gummy walls as his nose teases your puckered rim. he reaches under you to roll your clit in figure-eights with his thumb, enjoying the way you’re pushing your hips back into his face for more.

you feel yuta grin against your pussy, slurping noises filling the room as you do your best to keep in your moans but it’s proven difficult. you’re convinced that he’s doing everything in his power to make you lose control and let go, to force you to break down and moan out like a whore for him, and you’ll be damned because you’re struggling so hard to keep your sounds in. he loves it when you’re loud, but there’s no way you’re able to right now with your clingy coworker on the phone.

“remember: don’t let him know what a good little cockhungry whore you are for me, doll.” he hums against your entrance, licking a fat stripe from the hood of your clit to your clenching hole. he even goes the extra mile to place a sweet, loving kiss there before he dives back in, lapping at your juices noisily with no care for the poor man on the other side of the line. you bury your face into the pillow knowing full well that you won’t be able to hold in your moans.

jolts of electricity run up your spine as he routinely swaps between lapping hungrily at your walls and shoving three thick, dextrous fingers in to reach the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. you can feel your slick running down your thighs and drip down to stain the sheets and your face burns from how hot and bothered you are.

there’s a faint buzzing in the distance and your melting brain can only decipher it as a call that he’s receiving.

“keep it down,” yuta warns lowly in your ear, making it clear that there’s no room for objections. you want to answer him but a squeal of surprise escapes your lips instead when he presses an egg vibrator to your clit. he tapes it down and makes sure it’s secure before patting it and increasing the speed. your head spins when he flips you onto your back with a sadistic, mocking grin on his face.

he tilts his head to the side in faux pity, pouting at your pathetic form.

“yuta,” you beg quietly and reach out to him but he moves back to let you know that you’re not allowed to touch him. you whimper in defeat but he raises the remote to show you who’s in charge. in response to your lack of quietude, he presses the button and a wave of pleasure rocks through you as he increases the vibrations against your throbbing clit. he raises his eyebrows, challenging you to go against him. you don’t need him to tell you anything because you know you’ve lost.

“tsk, tsk, tsk.” he shakes his head and leans down towards you. he barely leaves any space between your faces as a perverse smile spreads across his handsome features. “i told you to keep it down; do you want him to find out that you’re a slut?”

“i’m your slut . . .” you quietly whine to argue your non-existent case. the impending wave of your first orgasm is building up in your lower belly, all thanks to the overstimulation of your clit and his nasty words that fill your brain. tears start to well up in your eyes, clouding your vision as you sniffle and look up at him. “i’m your slut, yuta, don’t want anyone else. only you.”

if you think you’re good at sweet-talking, he’s twice better than you are.

“i know you are, doll,” he mocks your whiny tone whilst patting your hole condescendingly. “does he? you look so pretty crying like this, you know?” his clean hand reaches up to your cheek to tenderly wipe away the desperate tears that stream down your hot cheeks. lust swims dangerously in his dark eyes, watching you with a heavy, predatory gaze that makes you clench around nothing as you squirm underneath him. “wearing nothing but my shirt, begging for my mouth, my hands, my cock . . . begging for more of me.”

yuta gives you a soft kiss on your lips, lingering as he tastes the salty tears that got caught. when you start keening into him, moving your lips against his to feel more of him, he smiles in victory. his hand wraps around your throat and presses his index finger and thumb against the right spots. the gradual cut of your oxygen flow makes you slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as pleasure spreads throughout your system.

“isn’t that right, doll?” he hums lovingly. “i’ve barely fucked you properly and you’re already going dumb.” he presses down harder around your throat and leans forward. you felt it first before your brain processed it—he licks a fat stripe of your tears to taste it on his tongue. “just the way i love it.” his voice drops to a bare whisper against your hot cheeks and you can only manage a whine as a poor attempt to seek mercy.

the knot in your belly tightens, warmth spreading all over your drooling core. the sweet taste of ecstasy is right on the tip of your tongue and you’re so close to the edge that you could just grab it. 

you feel something poke against your entrance. you want to look down and see what it is, hoping it’s his cock, but he knows exactly how to keep your mind occupied. he decreases the strength of the egg vibrator, depriving you of your orgasm yet again. he continues to turn it down until it stays completely still against your throbbing clit. tears spill over and streak down your hot cheeks as you look up at him through bleary eyes.

“yuta, please!” you manage to croak out weakly. “just use me, i’m all yours for the taking.” are you making any sense anymore?

“i know, doll, i know. we’re getting there.”

your fingers dig into the sheets underneath you and you curl them into your fist in frustration.

“i was just about to cum,” you whine a little bit more. yuta laughs derisively at your poor, pathetic form underneath him.

“i know, doll. why else would i do it? two times, too.” he kisses your knee while he moves back to remove the rest of his clothes. you vaguely hear the rustling of fabric before something hard pokes at your entrance once again. this time, you can confirm that it’s his cock with the way he slips it between your folds, collecting your pearlescent slick on his erection to lubricate himself. “you always look so irresistible when you look like you’re about to cum. you look even cuter when you’re all disappointed that it’s taken away from you, though. it just makes me wanna take torture you even more. i like seeing you cry for me, doll.”

there’s a faint click and the vibrator comes to life on your clit once again. a quiet cry of his name breaks free from your throat, walls clenching around nothing at his dirty words. you don’t want to admit it but as agonising it is to be edged, you love the dissipating burn that comes after each round that your orgasm is stripped away from you.

“now what do you say when you want my cock inside of you, doll?” he purrs, one hand pinning your wrists above your head while the other wraps your plush thighs around his waist. his tip rubs against your entrance, teasing but never quite entering and your walls are left clamping down around air. 

“please fuck me like i’m a cheap whore.” the words come from your lips so naturally in one airy breath as you bat your tear-stained eyelashes at him.

“anything for my darling doll.” yuta eliminates the gap between your faces to give you a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips at the same time his heavy cock pushes past your entrance. your eyes flutter shut, thighs closing down around his sturdy waist as he continues to sink himself down and stretch your walls out with a satisfying burn. he swallows every moan that comes from your throat, pushing himself deeper even as you struggle to take him in. “always so fucking tight for me; is my cock so big that you’re having trouble, baby?” he pulls away just to coo at you condescendingly with a pout.

“i can take it!” you argue but it breaks into a mewl of pleasure that gets caught in the back of your throat when he increases the speed of the vibrator on your clit.

“uhuh, i know you can, doll.” your face burns, flustered that his sarcastic tone and words do nothing but make you clench down around him even more. “shit, i’ll cum if you do that. i’m not even fully in yet.”

“you’re not?” you gawk in disbelief but all he does is shrug dismissively.

in one swift motion, all of the air is knocked out of your lungs when he pushes his cock all the way in until his tip is kissing the roof of your walls. a loud cry of his name bounces off the walls of your room as your eyes roll back. after being denied your orgasm twice, the second he hits the sensitive bundle of nerves inside, heat spreads throughout your body like wildfire. static electricity buzzes in time with the vibrator on your clit as you gush generously around his cock. your entire body spasms underneath him and he laughs at how quickly you came but he makes sure to stay still so he doesn’t overstimulate you too much.

“i finally fit my cock inside of you and you’re cumming, little doll?” yuta caresses your cheek before pushing locks of your hair back. he lets go of his firm grip on your wrists to let you relax and come down from your high. the cool air conditioning feels heavenly on your hot skin, covered with a second layer of sticky sweat with the stench of summer sex lingering on the walls and in your sheets. “how are we feeling?” he kisses you sweetly. after making sure that the vibrator is no longer bullying your throbbing clit, he peels it away and places it aside as he repositions you both until it’s comfortable.

“‘m good,” you nod. your bleary eyes look up at him with a smile to reassure him that you really are okay. you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks, bringing him down for another kiss for the sole reason that you just want to feel him against you. “i always feel good when i’m with you, yuta.”

“yeah?” he mumbles against your lips, to which you nod again with a light giggle. “good. ‘cause i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll probably start to hate me.” there’s a cheeky grin that thrones his handsome face as he leans back but you quickly realise he’s not joking when he cups the back of your knees with both hands and pushes them to your chest. he mounts himself onto you, angling himself to the spot where you know it’ll have you seeing stars.

his name rips from your throat in a cry of lustful agony as he begins pounding into you recklessly. you feel every harsh pull and drag of his cock against your tight walls, cockhead bruising the roof of your walls as he chases after his own high. his hips snap against yours in a steady rhythm to watch your eyes roll back into your skull and your jaw hang loose as you submit to the waves of pleasure that consume you. your body burns alight, lower belly forming that familiar knot once again.

he’s buried deep inside of you, heavy balls smacking against the curve of your ass with each harsh thrust, filling you up and stretching you out. yuta repositions your legs to hook them over his shoulders. you want to ask him why he’s slowing down but your body locks up the second you feel a faint buzzing pressing on your clit again.

“yuta!” what’s supposed to be a whine comes out mixed with a wanton moan of equal parts pleasure and desperation.

“what? i’m the bad guy for wanting you to cum on my cock, doll?” that immediately shuts you up as you fist the sheets underneath you. the only thing on your mind is how good his cock feels while he fucks your brains out. your throbbing bud pulses in response to the vibrations increasing in speed, in turn, makes you call out for him again. he barely pays your weak protests any mind, far too focused on the way your pussy clenches around him and sucks him in every time he pulls out.  “gonna cum for me again, little doll? i wanna see how messy you can get.” he turns up the strength again and you squeal in surprise at the sudden change.

“i can’t, i’m gonna cum, shit!” by now, your thighs are quaking and you’re trembling like a leaf underneath him. everything is too much all at once—the vibrator on your clit, his cock ruining your insides without mercy—and to further push you over the edge, he tosses the remote controller aside to wrap his hand around your throat.

“cum for me.” he whispers darkly in your ear. the second he finds the correct pressure points and presses down, you blank out.

hot white spreads throughout your body in a quick motion. stars constellate your vision and your entire body spasms underneath him as a burning buzz seeps through your veins, fluttering walls gushing generously around his cock while you ride out your high.

“that’s it, that’s it,” he coaxes you through your orgasm, slowly letting go of your throat. “such a good fuckdoll for me, aren’t you? fuck, i’m close. just a little longer, baby.” the buzzing against your clit slowly ceases to a stop as he whispers praises into your ear. his thrusts grow sloppy and frenzied as he chases after his own high.

you look up at him through bleary eyes and he looks absolutely stunning. his long, dark locks are beyond messy, bouncing with every erratic movement, some tendrils sticking to the sides of his face and forehead as beads of sweat drip down his chin. your body burns from the overstimulation but you love it anyway, whimpering when his hips stutter against yours and he slows down.

thick ropes of his hot seed pour into you, filling you up to the brim and even overflowing to get caught on both your pubic hairs. you practically sink into the mattress underneath you as his cum drips down your hole, weakly reaching up to cuddle your boyfriend.

“oh my fucking god, nakamoto yuta!”

the realisation that you’re still on the call with ilsung hits you harder than both your orgasms did. you’re quick to panic and reach for your phone only for your boyfriend to use you as his mattress and bury his face in your neck.

“baby, chill.” he mumbles against your skin. as if to make you feel any better, he presses a soft kiss at the same spot. “i hung up on him the second i got the vibrator out.” you know that your boyfriend can exhibit the symptoms of a pathological liar, especially around his friends so you check your call history, and to your relief, he did hang up. it’s been about an hour and a half since he did.

“i hate you so much, i really do.” you groan and toss your phone to the side, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tightly in hopes he’ll pop like a balloon. with what little strength that you have left in your body, you know it’s nothing to him.

“i love you too, y/n. my sweet doll.” he grins. your cheeks burn, flustered because not only do you enjoy the pet name but you also melt in his hold. “my darling, my pretty baby. all mine.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m all yours, dipshit.”

you’re kind of glad it’s a saturday because you’ll have at least one day to figure out how the hell you’re going to face ilsung when you’re back in the office on monday. but for now, you’re just going to enjoy all of the affection and attention that your darling brat of a boyfriend is going to shower you in for the next week or so until ilsung ingrains it deep in his brain that you’re in a happy, loving, and healthy relationship.

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[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.

[offbrandkyoya]

95 Epilogue

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Falling in love isn’t as easy as they make it to be. Movies, books, shows, they all have a happy ending for the couple. Sometimes the happy ending isn’t cliche and unrealistic. And yet, you believed that was all true because you fell in love quite easily.

You didn’t think you’d fall hard for Scaramouche but you did. And somehow your dumb self was attractive to him. Silly but you’re happy. You both are. Ei became the manager of 5WIRL for a while and they gain more popularity. Scaramouche didn’t like the idea of his mom being the manager but it was like a bonding moment for them.

After a while, 5WIRL disbanded. DCKZ continues to thrive though. You remember hearing the news about that from your boyfriend and you couldn’t understand why. Scaramouche told you that they were all tired and the fun is over. That it was time for the boys to move on. You respected their decision but still cried over it.

Though you’re happy because Scaramouche isn’t as busy. You’re also happy because the disbandment didn’t cause Scaramouche to lose his love for music. Now, he sings for fun and denies every record label that approaches him. You laugh at him a lot for that.

Spring is here. The perfect season to paint. You sat in your chair and let your brush guide you. Years have passed and you guys live in a house instead of an apartment. About time since you guys have been together for so long. You hum while painting by the window in your bedroom. The door opens but you don’t look up, concentrated on your picture. A pair of arms wrap around your stomach. “Yn, i bought food.” “Yay!” You kiss Scaramouche on the nose before looking back.

“So that got your attention?” “Of course. Sorry but i love food more than you.” You joke and he pouts. “Maybe you should marry the food instead?” “Maybe i should!” You put your brush down on the water cup and grab his hand. You observe his finger that wore the golden ring. “Sorry Scara, this doesn’t belong to you.” You say and slide the ring off him. Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “You’re so annoying.” “You love me!” You slide the ring back on.

“If you did lose the ring then I will marry someone else.” “Damn.” Scaramouche rubs your shoulder and sits down on the bed. “Now i want the wedding to happen right now.” “Patience my dear Scara.” You say in a low voice which makes him laugh. “Anyways, I’m singing at this coffee place. Wanna come?” You hop off your stool. “Duh! I’m excited now!”

Scaramouche stands up. “Okay then let’s go.” You freeze. “Right now?” “Yeah.” You hold your face in panic. “I-I’m a mess! I’m not ready! I need to take a shower and change outfits and-“ “You look perfect.” He says and kisses your forehead. “Come one.” He grabs your hand and the both of you exit the house.

Once arriving, Scaramouche immediately sets up while you sit down at the front. You decide you might as well order something so you buy a coffee and a muffin to go along with it. You munch on your snack and the door opens. You look at who it is and immediately smile wide. “Aether! Xiao!” You get up and walk towards them. “Hi Yn.” Aether says but when you finally get close to them, you squeal. “And hi to you Xia!” Aether holds a toddler with teal hair and golden eyes, looking at you curiously with a thumb in her mouth.

“Aw she’s so cute!” You say while bringing your finger to her. “She is.” Xiao comments. “The fact you guys have a kid without being married outstands me.” Heizou enters the room with Kazuha right behind him. “You guys actually came.” Xiao says and Heizou puffs up his chest. “Why of course! I’ll never abandon my friend!” “Shut up.” Xia looks up at Aether and the blonde shakes his head. “Papa doesn’t know either.”

“Sit with me!” You say and the boys follow you to your table. “Picked out your wedding outfit yet?” Heizou asks once he sits down. You frown, “Not yet but I’ll find one! Trust!” Xia claps her hands and you point at her. “See, she trusts me!” “She’s a baby.” Heizou states. “A very cute baby.” Xiao kisses his daughter’s cheek which makes her laugh.

You frown, “I want a baby now. Xia’s so cute.” “Didn’t you almost lose her last time?” Kazuha brings up and you blush. “Look! I didn’t lose her! We were just…playing hide and seek…and she was very good at it..” Heizou crosses his arms. “You’d make a horrible parent.” “I hate you.” Xiao pokes his baby’s cheek. “When YN throws the flowers, make sure to catch them, Aether.” The blonde blushes. “W-What? That’s so soon!” Heizou looks at the couple in confusion. “You guys LITERALLY have a baby?”

The door opens once more and Venti enters with Zhongli and Childe holding hands behind him. You notice Ei is with them as well. You turn around to your fiancé and he noticed his mother but went back to do what he was doing. You frown but turn back around. “Looks like we made it in time.” Zhongli says as the four stand right in front of the table. “Yeah, Scaras pretty slow.” You comment and you can feel glare piercing behind your head.

“I’m kind of excited.” Childe says as he swings his and Zhonglis arms. “But we’ve seen him do this before?” Zhongli tilts his head and Childe giggles. “Yeah but it’s still an exciting thing to witness.” He kisses his cheek and Heizou gags. “I can’t believe this! I’m surrounded by couples!” Kazuha laughs. “Maybe you’re the problem.” Heizou pouts then laughs also. “You want me so bad.” “Mm, in your dreams.” The two stare into each others eyes with pink cheeks then laugh again.

Ei walks over to her son who was checking to see if everything is in perfect condition. She clears her throat, “Scaramouche.” His shoulders jolt but he shakes off the scare and looks at her. “What?” She smiles “Good luck.” Scaramouche’s eyes widen a little. He sensed a bit of warmth coming off her that made his heart swell. Even so, he kept his moody expression. “Okay, thank you.” She walks to sit at another table with the three boys following after.

Scaramouche glances at you and you give him a thumbs up with a cute smile. He smiles too and grabs his guitar to start. He sits on the stool and taps the mic. Your stomach bubbles as you feel the excitement jitters take over you. Xia starts to get excited too and begins to clap her hands and make incoherent noises. Aether shushes her, bouncing his leg up and down.

“You’re all probably tired of me but I’m here to sing another song.” “That’s my best friend!” Childe shouts and everyone laughs. Scaramouche rolls his eyes then looks directly at you. “I’m about to get married soon.” He says, “My fiancé has always given me to courage to continue to sing. I want to sing for you my entire life. I love you, Yn.” You blush and fidget in your seat. “I love you too, Scaramouche.” The crowd gushes with Heizou calling you guys “cringe.” Scaramouche begins to play with everyone enjoying the show.

You watch him full of love. His voice is so soothing and the way he plays the instrument makes your stomach churn. Some people entered to shop just to listen to Scaramouche sing. It makes you happy that he has so many fans. You hear the door open and you look to see it’s Kaeya with his brother and Albedo and Thoma. Diluc looks at Kaeya and put a finger on his lips which Kaeya responded by rolling his eyes.

They go and find a table to sit but you wave at Thoma and Albedo before they go ahead. They wave back and follow the brothers. You look back at Scaramouche and listen to his singing. He’s such a dream. You’re so happy to have fallen in love with him.

After a while, he finished and everyone claps with you being the loudest. He walks to you and kisses you. You smile and once you pull apart, he whispers in your ear, “I love you.” He looks at you with a smirk. You laugh and stand up to hug him. “I love you too.”

“Sorry we came in late.” Kaeya says once he, Diluc, Albedo, and Thoma made their way to your guys table. “It’s fine”. Scaramouche tells them. “We weren’t super late though.” Thoma corrects but Diluc huffs, “Well maybe if SOMEONE had the time right we’d be here right on the dot.” Kaeya groans, “I said I’m sorry! I really thought it wasn’t till like 10 in the afternoon!”

Scaramouche chuckles, “You’re crazy if you think im going to play that late. Sleep in my best friend.” Albedo chuckles, “Well we’re here now and that’s what matters.” You place a hand on your hip. “Question, if I throw the bouquet, would you catch it?” Albedo blushes. “M-Me?” “Yeah.” “Well, I don’t know, I mean I’d try but I really wouldn’t want it…” He panics a little. “N-Not that I don’t want to marry Kaeya! I just feel like…um..”

You laugh, “It’s okay! I’m just asking. What about you Thoma?” The blonde thinks for a moment. “I think I have a chance. I’m pretty athletic.” Dilucs face turns as red as his hair. “W-What? You’re serious?” Thoma looks at him with confusion at first then blushes also. “W-Well, it’s hypothetical, of course! Besides, we just started going out, it’d be too soon.” “Not to soon to have a baby though!” Heizou butts in and Xiao kicks his leg from under the table.

All of you decided to stay at the coffee shop till the night despite Scaramouche wanting to go home. You managed to convince him though. One by one they left. First were Xiao and Aether since it was Xias bedtime. You attempted to take her home with you but Aether slapped the back of your head. Venti left because he wanted to sleep and Scaramouche never felt so jealous in his entire life. Heizou and Kazuha left early too to your surprise. Turns out they were going to watch a movie and that it was a date night.

You wished them luck and you felt happy knowing those two are getting even closer. Scaramouche noticed his mother grow tired as her head would bop up and down. He told her she can go home but Ei didn’t want to since she wanted to be with him. After more pushing, Ei was going to leave. Though Scaramouche stopped her to say, “Thanks for coming.” You’ve never seen Ei smile so much before. She left and you kissed Scaramouche’s cheek as a reward.

“I have to go home. Klees waiting for me.” Albedo says, looking at his phone. “She’s grown. She’ll be fine!” Kaeya rests his chin on top of his boyfriend’s head. “You’re going to turn out to be a horrible dad in the future.” Diluc states and Kaeya glares at him. “I have to get going too.” Thoma speaks up. “I have to work tomorrow.” He pouts and you frown with him. “That sucks. I wish you luck, Thoma.” “Thanks Yn.” You both hug. “It was nice seeing you!” You let go. “It’s going to be busy thanks to the wedding.”

“Congratulations again.” Diluc smiles and you smile too. “Thank you!” Diluc flicks Kaeya’s forehead. “Let’s go.” “What?! Me too?!” “Yes, now come on.” Kaeya groans. “Ugh, fine!” You bid them all farewell. “Tell Klee I said hi!” You tell Albedo after you guys hug. He laughs, “I will.” The four of them leave and alls that’s left is you, Scaramouche, Zhongli, and Childe.

Childe rushes to Scaramouche and pulls him in a grip tight hug. “I’m so proud of you! Look at you singing in front of crowds and now you’re getting married soon! Next thing you know it, you’re having ten kids!” Scaramouche’s face turns red as he tries pushing Childe off him. “We’re not having ten kids!” “Yet.” Childe responds and lets go of the smaller.

“Can I be the godfather?” “No.” Zhongli laughs. “We should leave you both alone now. Come dear.” Childe blushes and holds his hand. “Okay okay. I really am happy for you though, Scaramouche.” Your fiancé smiles and laughs. “I should be thanking you.” “Why?” “For being my best friend.” The ginger blinks and his eyes water. “Oh my god you DO care about me!” “Go home.” You and Zhongli laugh then Zhongli and Childe finally left.

You wrap an arm around Scaramouche’s. “Let’s go for a walk.” “What about my stuff?” You shrug, “We’ll come back.” He raises a brow. “Alright.” You exit and you both walk down the sidewalk, admiring the night sky. You rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m happy.” “Me too.” He kisses your head. He looks up at the sky. “The moon’s beautiful tonight.” “It is.”

You look at each other. “I love you.” You both say at the same time, causing you guys to laugh. “All that singing made me hungry.” He says. “Same here. What do you want to eat?” “Maybe a sandwich.” You tilt your head. “Just a sandwich.” Scaramouche nods. “Yeah. What else do I need?” You giggle. “Okay. Where do you-“ “No.” Scaramouche stops walking and so do you. He looks directly in your eyes. “I want you to make it.” You blink then giggle again. “Alright. I’ll make you a sandwich.” Scaramouche smiles and you continue walking together under the night sky.

- IM FREE!!!!

- guys it’s over!! Woo!!!

- I am working on the next smau and maybe Friday? I’ll post what it is 🫡

- it’s been in the works for a while so I HOPE you guys like it!!!!!!!!

- I’ll give a heads up that it is NOT genshin impact. I’ll talk about that more later when the time comes so yeah!

- thank you guys so so SO much! I love you all :3

🏷️ @sakiimeo @coquettemaiden @rmiyuki @kur44pika @theblueblub @jxxji0309 @dreamsofminnie @ohmyfinggod @redactedhimbo @kunisbeloved @akagism2 @sketcheeee @thefandomcrow @beriiov @thenightsflower @yukiipc @scaraapologist @scarletttcroww @samyayaya @crucnhicereads @monaypo1 @feiherp @myaaones @warcelia @hangecanweholdhands @yuminako @valiryyz @screechingxiaolover @tiddieshakeshownu @ilovechuuyaa @d4y-dr3am3r-blog @dazaisfavgf @swivy123 @ganyusbrideee @sagegreenthinks @the-left-glove @wonderland-fan @kylexzz @kaoyamamegami @whycantscarabereal @rvoulte @eunchaeluvr @lxkeeeee @silvermah @baby-bread-in @yelleloww @magica-ren @itzblazekun @im-inlovewithy0u @featuredtofu @anastaxiah @ask-aph-tanzania @drmyday @what-just-happened-huh @xtobefreex @v4lerixxq @duckyyyx @hannoahs-third-eyelash @brain-r0tt @iota1111 @accio-fandom @kaitfae @tikitsune @salmonieea

[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.

[ravixen]

svt + idol!s/o falls on stage

➔ reaction || not requested || idol!au

➔ warnings: none || 672 words ➔ notes: fluff, idol!y/n ; another monday, another post! i love the idea of idol!y/n a lot, so i figured that i'd give myself the opportunity to write it more. as always, requests are open and reblog if you liked :)

JUNHUI: as soon as his plane lands, his phone starts blowing up with notifications, and minghao looks over with an amused glance. they're both expecting it to be seokmin on another internet spree, sending every instagram reel he comes across, but instead there's several different message threads across kakao, tiktok, instagram, you name it. and they all feature the same thing: a clip of you on stage. he clicks on it and watches you dance for a few seconds before yelping into your microphone, falling hard on your knees. the crowd gasps, and so does he. oh no, oh no. he tries calling you immediately, not registering the fact that you're supposed to be asleep right now until his third call goes unanswered. luckily you had the forethought to send a bunch of texts, assuring him that you're fine. in fact, you sent a few photos of your legs, saying that the fall looked worse than it was, but the sight of bruises starting to bloom on your body makes his heart ache. he sends you well wishes for recovery and reminders to take things easy because sometimes injuries might not show until later. he brushes away the incredibly unrealistic thought of turning around and boarding a return plane to take care of you.

SOONYOUNG: when you appear on stage, he joins your fans in screaming. he knows the lyrics, he knows the dance, he knows the fan chant. if he could bring a lightstick into the event venue, he absolutely would have, but he couldn't, so he settles for mirroring the performance in his seat, as if he could transfer his energy to you on stage. his gaze is trained on you, even when it's not your part, and that's how he sees the tragedy before it happens. he squints at the strange shape by your feet. what the heck, what is—his eyes widen once he realizes. it's a bunch of cables, bound together, and you're too focused on the camera to notice it. he shoots up right when you trip over the cables, cry out, and hit the ground. you're in the back corner for the choreo's formation, so you take a few seconds to collect yourself before re-joining the dance, the smile on your face shaky. his chest aches at seeing you get hurt, but it soon bleeds into annoyance at the venue's negligence. there was a full intermission for them to get their stuff together. how did they miss that? he spend the rest of the evening with a glare, seungcheol's hand on the small of his back as both a comfort and an anchor. they can't risk him running off.

JIHOON: he's in the middle of hair and make-up when soonyoung approaches his chair. his friend is jittery, which isn't out of the ordinary, but the energy is more nervous than usual. soonyoung stands right behind the hair stylist, peering over her head to make eye contact with jihoon in the mirror. "what's wrong with you?" jihoon asks at the sight of soonyoung's wringing hands. "getting cold feet or something?" "no, it's just..." he hesitates. "don't freak out, okay?" he waits for a confused nod before continuing in a rush. "y/n fell on stage." hands clamp down on jihoon's shoulders immediately, keeping him in the chair. "i told you not to freak out." but how is jihoon supposed to hear that and not try to be at your side immediately? he takes a deep breath and holds still for the stylist trying to get him ready, though she sends him a concerned glance. "when? are they okay?" "just a few minutes ago. i was watching in the waiting room monitor. the cameras were zoomed in on someone else, but their mic was on and you could kind of see the fall. they got up and finished the stage. just thought i'd let you know." jihoon gives soonyoung a wave of thanks, already set on stopping by your waiting room later to check on you himself.

[reysdriver]

Sirius x reader where he’s not answering letters all summer and so the reader decides to sneak into Grimmauld Place to check up on him. Up to you if they get caught or not

You pay Sirius a visit after a month of lost contact — sirius x gn!reader fluff

warnings: slight angst, mention of Sirius' crappy family but no details

words: 0.6k

a/n: it's actually embarrassing how long it's taken me to get to this. I may be going through a lot rn but I admit this has been sitting in my inbox and my drafts for a while, so anon, I'm really sorry and I hope you like it

Even though you and your boyfriend had spent the better part of the last month of school talking about how you can still stay in touch over the break, Sirius hadn’t responded to a single one of your letters so far this summer. You’ve sent at least two per week for a whole month and they’ve all gone unanswered. 

 All kinds of thoughts were digging into your mind as to why this was happening, all of them increasing in intensity the more you let things spiral. 

He’s run off with some pureblood girl his parents set him up with. No, he’s just been lying to you about liking you for months. He’s so relieved to be out of your presence. What if something really bad happened to him?!

But you knew Sirius, you knew yourself, and you knew that these thoughts were only going to get more unrealistic the more you let them fester undealt with. So, you decided the best thing to do was run off and pay your boyfriend a visit. 

✦✧✦✧✦

You hadn’t brought anything other than your wand—which was concealed in your boot—and two sturdy books on your venture to visit Sirius. They were inconspicuous enough so as to not grab any attention from muggles, but effective at what you needed to do. 

After making sure no one was around to see what you were about to do, you placed the two books on the ground and planted a foot on each one, then pulled your wand out from your left shoe and cast a simple levitation spell on each one. It was tough to keep your balance, but you held onto Sirius’ windowsill so it would be easier to stay in one place. 

Sure enough, there he was when you looked into his room. You tapped on the pane of glass separating you two to get his attention and it worked; just as quickly as he turned to face the window, he stood up and rushed to open it for you. 

“What are you doing here?!” Sirius asked, holding your hand to help you inside. 

You shrugged like it was obvious. “You weren’t answering any of my letters. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

He looked back at you, defeated. He slumped down on his bed, and you watched him feeling nothing but worry. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” Sirius mumbled sadly. “I wanted to, I really did. I just get so stressed when I’m with my family and then writing back slips my mind. Then the more I leave writing to you, I just feel more guilty and I just feel bad writing back at all.”

Instead of a verbal response, you embraced your boyfriend in a tight hug, knowing this is definitely the most loving interaction he’s had since you parted ways at the train station a month ago. 

“It’s okay. I understand now that you’ve told me.” You told him. “Do you want me to stay here, Siri?”

He looked at you with teary eyes. “Yeah, as long as we don’t do anything to get caught by my parents.”

“Okay, I’ll stay as long as you promise me one thing.”

He looked up at you, slightly confused, as you brushed your fingers through the silky hair you missed all summer. “What is it?”

“No more one-sided communication. Even if it’s just you sending back letters complaining about your family. I want to hear from my boyfriend when we’re apart.”

He pulled your hand down from the top of his head and brought it down to his lips so he could kiss your palm before answering. “Promise, my dear. I’ll start writing one right now if you’d like.”

[dailyadventureprompts]

So, I mostly just need some advice. I want to introduce stuff like the combat wheelchair into campaigns I run and play in, but some players say it’s “unrealistic” for stuff like that to be in a campaign because “why wouldn’t you just get greater restoration or regenerate casted on you or something”. I know that’s a bunch of bull crap, but I’m not sure what to say to convince them.

Heavy Topics: Disability in Fantasy

I'm going to start this off with saying that people with a lot more education and experience than me have written quite a lot about the inclusion of disabilities in d&d, and I encourage you to seek out their testimonials.

Next, you don't need to convince anybody about introducing things in your campaigns, especially when that introduction is specifically to highlight inclusion and diversity . They're YOUR campaigns, and people that cry "realism" when it comes to matters of inclusion are almost always covering up for their own prejudice.

Now what I can do with expert efficiency is address the bullshit claims that people try to use to support their prejudice, how it doesn't line up with the mechanics of the game, and how it doesn't line up with good storytelling.

TLDR: Disability is a fact of life, and so it is a fact of stories. In trying to brush it aside by saying " oh magic could fix everything" we also brush aside the lived experiences of millions of people, equally deserving as seeing themselves as characters in the fantasy epics we tell. Purely form a storytelling and world building perspective, it's also far more interesting to see how people adapt to challenges then it is to make those challenges simply not exist or be easily fixed by author fiat.

First lets talk over the mechanical issue: In vanilla d&d there's no way to restore lost limbs short of the regeneration spell, which is 7th level and thus requires a 14th level character to cast. 14th level characters are thin on the ground, meaning that your average person would have to undertake an arduous journey to find such a caster willing to perform this working , to say nothing of finding one willing to perform the service for any payment a commoner could provide.

Likewise, regeneration specifies that it's SEVERED limbs that are restored: rules as written it doesn't fix neurological damage, birth defects, or congenial traits. As someone who's needed glasses from youth onwards, I find it hilarious that a flimsy pair of lenses can fix what high level divine magic ( possibly even the wish spell) cannot, but that's more a matter of the designers thinking more about the lives of adventurers than the worldbuilding implicit in their rules.

Turning to 3rd party material and homebrew, we enter into some very interesting territory. There's much back and forth about magic that "fixes" disability outright and where I fall on the discussion tends to land on the idea that said magic lets the character overcome many of the hurdles of their impediment but doesn't negate it completely. Here's some pop culture examples:

Toph from ATLA is always go be the go to for disability representation in media: She's blind, but uses her earthbending powers to be able to sense vibrations in contact with the ground allowing her to "see". In a badly written show, this would totally negate Toph's disability, but thankfully ATLA is written by people who know what they're doing so instead Toph's blindness provides just as many novel drawbacks as it does advantages. Toph can detect things happening on the other side of walls and doors, but is vulnerable to projectiles that don't touch the ground. She can sense if people are lying, but can't read printed text. Force her onto a small, isolated platform or into water and you cut off her ability to see just as much as a fully sighted character in pitch black darkness.

Edward Elric from fullmetal Alchemist is missing an arm and a leg, and uses a pair of integrated robotic "automail" prosthesis which seem to give him all the functionality of a regular set of limbs. That said, any utility the automail provides is matched with whole host of downsides, ranging from their lack of touch, their weight causing discomfort, and the expense of having them in the first place. What's most pressing is that these limbs are mechanical and prone to malfunciton from overuse, requiring Edward to see a specific technician to get them fixed. When they break ( which is often) or simply require refitting, Edward needs to travel days or weeks out of his way and then suffer through a painful process of reattachment in order to get the use of his limbs back.

Professor Xavier from the Xmen is paraplegic, but in many depictions has some kind of hoverchair that lets him go out into the field and navigate difficult terrain without the aid of others or other mobility devices. While certainly an upgrade over a totally mundane wheelchair it again doesn't completely compensate for his inability to walk or his vulnerability should the chair be damaged or taken away from him.

With these examples in mind, we can look at how different 3rd party resources can model various forms of accommodation, giving characters with disabilities the utility they need to go out adventuring, without removing their disability in the first place.

The "combat wheelchair" is a great example of this, giving characters unique options while at the same time making them atleast partially reliant on a somewhat cumbersome object. In terms of logistics, it's not much different than having a centaur in the party and the fact that most dungeons aren't wheelchair accessible just means the party has to do maybe one or two more platforming problem solving challenges.

In my own time running steampunk games I’ve usually instituted a “misfire” rule onto most technology, including the ubiquitous mechanical limbs. A natural 1 using that limb means that the limb is suffering a malfunction, and until the malfunction is fixed, another natural 1 will break it. It’s an easy way to get across that these marvellous contraptions aren't perfect yet.

Now lets talk storytelling:

Upfront I'm going to say that I don't consider myself disabled,I have some mental health hurdles that I have to navigate on the regular, but my body works at a solid 6/10 most days. 

I think there’s a lot potential in examining disability in stories, and not just in the “overcoming adversity” inspiration porn sort of way. The loss of a limb can represent a sacrifice and the toll of war, prejudice against disfigurement can drive a character down a dark path, sometimes there’s no greater thematic reasoning behind it and a character is living with disability because that’s a thing regular people live with. What I will say is that disability introduces vulnerability, a theme that power fantasy games like d&d don’t often deal with as their centeral arc is about characters getting stronger and stronger and stronger until they can challenge the gods. 

Vulnerability runs counter to that desire for strength, but it makes a better story because what a character does with vulnerability makes them a more interesting character: Do they rely on others? Close themselves off? Come to terms with their weakness or strive to overcome it? These are all fascinating questions that you wouldn’t get to ask with a character that was 100% able bodied, well adjusted, and socially accepted.

It’s not a stretch to say that people who have regressive political views are terrified of vulnerability. that’s why the right-wing chuds are so vehemently opposed to the idea that someone with a disability could be a hero. To them, adversity is all about the superior overcoming the inferior, and the thought of someone with weakness or disadvantages, someone they consider “inferior” triumphing against someone stronger is a direct challenge to their place inside their own worldview.

Finally I’m going to leave you with something relating to vulnerability to consider from my own campaigns:

In my home games when someone fails their death saving throws, I generally don’t kill them, killing them cuts the narrative short and I want to see how things play out. Instead I give them an offer: do they pass on into death, or do they let me take something from them? 90% of the time they chose the latter option and I make things interesting. What happens to the master archer who can’t string a bow anymore, or the fame hungry bard who’s scars distract from their performance? What price will the wizard pay to regain the use of her eyes?  Forcing players to confront these questions takes a lot of tact, and a lot of trust, but always yields better stories but given enough time to develop.

Art

[sepublic]

Yes yes Drolta sexy dommy mommy but like can we talk about the implications of her backstory and dynamic with Erzsebet??? She's a black woman but she's happily deferring to this white woman. She was an Egyptian priestess and we have her white lady appropriating a major deity from her religion, and instead of having the most reason and background to know what a bastardization this is, Drolta just continues to unironically love Erzsebet... What's up with that??? Did Drolta's background as a priest translate to Erzsebet accessing Sekhmet's blood? Or did she choose to worship Erzsebet because she had Sekhmet's blood?

And like yeah we can play with the idea of Olrox and Drolta as besties but can we also talk about their duality and how they're both dark-skinned PoC vampires and yet one of them is distinctly aware of this fact while the other doesn't really seem to care? You'd think Drolta would be more equipped than anyone else to know what's going on in Olrox's mind and anticipate his resentment-turned-rebellion, but she doesn't seem all that prepared? Or at least just kinda impatiently brushes it off like eventually he's gonna learn his place like she did.

Drolta is obviously socially keen enough to figure out Emmanuel's fatherly connection to Maria from just a glance, and yet she seems oblivious to how Olrox’s background clearly fuels his skepticism towards this “new world” talk she speaks of; These are NOT the words to convince Olrox, the very opposite, but Drolta is far too confident in using them as an appeal.

Hell what does Annette think, as someone who was a black slave to Vaublanc? Vaublanc was kneeling to Drolta as she inducted him into the cult of Erzsebet. She has to realize what a lot of these white nobles around her are like, how they feel about PoC. Does Drolta just happily see herself as the exception, does she think she's 'above' race because she's ascended to vampirism and is beside a goddess? And/or is Erzsebet's status as a white woman revoked because she ascended to vampire and then ascended a second time to goddess?

What questions would Annette ask, as a black woman who is also very spiritual, who has a mentor in Cecile? Annette also has a connection to the gods of her own heritage, whom she respects. She's going to them to undo the establishment. Meanwhile Drolta is letting her own god be bastardized. Does she think that survival can only come around if people make their cultures and magic adapt to the new status quo and find their place in it, regardless of what might be lost in the transition? There's a lot to say about Drolta and Annette fighting each other beneath the abbey.

Did Erzsebet turn Drolta, like she did Tera? Is the control a vampire has over its thrall inform a good portion of their dynamic? Please tell me we're gonna get backstory for these two regarding the blood of Sekhmet that explains what's going on in Drolta's head. Does she consider these implications, what does she think about them, how would she have reacted if someone like Olrox or Annette brought them up? Maybe Drolta accepts her place by Bathory's side because there's always a hierarchy in her mind, and all she can do is focus on saving herself a place above all of the rich white people, even if that means leaving behind her fellow PoC, because she's that kind of person who seeks empowerment for herself alone but not for the rest of her demographic, maybe seeing it as 'unrealistic' and her own position as a miracle that barely worked out.

Ngl I hope that one day Bloodlines gets adapted, and Drolta is brought back alongside Erzsebet as the main antagonists. I think there's a lot of room to explore Drolta's devotion to Erzsebet lasting until even now, and maybe develop their relationship. In game canon, Drolta is the one driving a lot of the events, being the one to resurrect Erzsebet, siccing the Mecha Knight on our protagonists, etc. And Dracula's second phase may or may not be intended to represent Drolta herself, which would otherwise explain her absence as a boss fight despite her role in the lore; And that places Drolta after Erzsebet in terms of gameplay.

I'm just saying!!! I'd love to see Drolta have a Fawful epiphany where she realizes that Erzsebet really is dependent on her contributions, and Drolta is the one who actually makes things work, she's the true driving force and mastermind; Erzsebet would be nothing without her, but can the same be said for the other way around? Maybe Drolta just assumed she needed Erzsebet but then she realizes she does all this and Erzsebet still has to depend on her. Maybe she IS aware of how much she outclasses Erzsebet, but Drolta finds it more convenient and safe to let Erzsebet take the spotlight as a figurehead, while she operates safely in the shadows.

[vollereix]

GENSHIN MEN WALKING IN ON YOU CHANGING/IN LINGERIE. F!Reader

Characters: Albedo, Al Haitham, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Kazuha, Ayato, Heizou, Wanderer.

Warnings: Slight nudity, suggestive, touching, unrealistic body, mentions of seasickness and throwing up in kazuha’s

ALBEDO

Now, he obviously didn’t mean to… It’s not like there was any privacy up in his camp in dragonspine. You just didn’t expect him to come back so soon.

Letting your skirt drop onto the floor, you bent down to get your clothes. Albedo who had involuntarily walked in on this didn’t say anything to alert you of his presence. Instead he just watched your ass high up in the air with that lace underwear of yours.

He couldn’t help but feel a little flustered, quietly walking away and acting as if he didn’t see anything.

AL HAITHAM

As the acting grand sage, he was very busy. Especially when the dendro archon herself had made so many important requests to change the rules of Sumeru.

He hadn’t been home for two days, constantly working and taking short naps in his office. So when he finally went back home one day, he wasn’t expecting to see you in your shared bedroom almost completely naked safe for your underwear and bra.

The files he was previously holding dropped to the floor, grabbing your attention. Seeing Al Haitham again made you forget about your current situation. You greeted him cheerfully, going in for a tight hug.

Al Haitham on the other hand… he could feel your soft breasts pressing against him. He wrapped his arms around you too, grabbing your waists before throwing you over his shoulder and pushing you onto the bed.

CHILDE

Hah! This is another one, he would definitely make his presence known to you.

“Oh my, isn’t this a sight…” Childe had just entered your room to see if you were home only to find you in a cute purple lingerie.

Your face flushed red at his teasing, scrambling to cover yourself with your clothes. Childe grabbed your arm, taking your shirt away from you.

Feeling exposed and self conscious, you wrapped your arms around your stomach, looking downwards not meeting his gaze.

“C’mon! There’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” After Childe finally got you to show him your full self, he tugged at the elastic of your panties, pulling them down ever so slightly.

CYNO

Oops.

Cyno’s eyes grew wide, he was so extremely exhausted from the previous mission he completely forgot to knock. Hearing the sound of the door being opened, you looked back to see Cyno standing there, unmoving.

Neither of you said a thing for a while. That was until you opened your mouth to ask the age old question.

“um, Cyno, could you please leave for a bit…?” Suddenly realising his staring, Cyno immediately dashed out of your room.

“H-hey! close the door!”

DILUC

Oh, he had only ever seen your body twice, both were in dim lighting. So this was new to him. He was entranced by your body, so unlike the gentleman he usually is, he couldn’t help but stay standing there.

You unclasped your bra and Diluc could see your plump breasts bouncing. His mind fogged over with dirty thoughts, seeing your body like this was far more entertaining than anything else.

It was a good thing you didn’t realise he had been watching the entire time, or he definitely wouldn’t be able to live it down.

KAZUHA

You probably got seasick and accidentally got some vomit on your clothes. So after removing your previously soiled clothes, you were going to change into your new clothes when Kazuha’s soft voice suddenly rang out from behind you.

“ah, apologies. It seems i should have knocked, i’ll come back later,” Before you got to see him, the door had already closed and you were left feeling flustered and embarrassed.

Kazuha didn’t think too much of it, he simply brushed it off and never brought it up again. He knew you’d be uncomfortable if he reminded you, so being the gentleman he is, he kept his mouth shut.

AYATO

“Perhaps you should lock the door next time…” Ayato leaned against your doorframe staring at your body.

He would never say it but the sight of you in your red thongs turned him on. The way the red fabric wrapped around your hips and your exposed ass made his pants feel tight. A smirk danced at his lips seeing your shocked expression.

You chased him out of your room, yelling and screaming at him in embarrassment.

HEIZOU

“hm, looks good!” He gave a close eyed smile.

You, who were unaware of an intruder watching you change jumped and let out a yelp. He had never seen you without proper clothes before so you panicked and scrambled to find your words.

However, Heizou just had a positive and happy smile on his face, making you feel a little less insecure of yourself. After that incident you would sometimes wear more revealing clothes when around him.

WANDERER

See he just had to walk in on you when you were changing. Not even a minute earlier or later. He’s never seen a woman’s body before, so the sight of you wrapping a hand around your waist to remove your underwear didn’t phase him in the slightest.

He stood and watched you change without a sound, when you turned and saw him just standing there, you could have sworn you saw your soul jump out of your body.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” You sweat dropped, hoping that he just arrived.

“Since you started removing your underwear and bra.” A monotonous voice, you noted.

Your face heated up even more, a blush spreading like wild fire. It was him who spoke first.

“Can you take it off? I want to see you…” Your head shot up at his request.

You knew he didn’t have much experience and or knowledge of the human body but for such an upright question, you were caught completely off guard.

Slowly, you removed your clothes, stripping down in front of him until you were left with your undergarments.

“Wait… can I do it?” The Wanderer walked towards you, he was slightly taller than you.

“oh, uh sure!” Another question that caught you off guard.

He looked into your eyes while unclasping your bra, his hands smoothed against your soft breasts. Letting your bra fall onto the ground, he continued to kneel down to remove your underwear.

Being so close to him made you rather… horny.

You were turned on to say the least. Especially when he caressed your breasts ever so gently.

Looking away in embarrassment, the wanderer had accidentally touched your clit while he pulled your underwear down, making you let out a gasp.

Unbeknownst to you, he knew what he was doing. He could see the slick covering your pussy along with a part of your underwear.

“Let me help,” Picking you up, the wanderer pushed you down onto your bed before moving his head in between your thighs.