#(certainly not the other way around at all)

[nosferatuv]

_ stepmomcaitlyn

cw ; stepcest. porn. fingering. edging. manipulating. mommy kink.

you thought you were alone— you swear you heard caitlyn's keys rattle as they always do before she leaves for work. you barely hesitated before spreading your legs and going to work.

she caught you, of course she caught you. you were being horribly loud, even had the audacity to have the porn movie playing on your laptop instead of your phone. and when she caught you, it wasn't pretty— well, not for you.

caitlyn however, seeing her stepdaughter of all people, spread out on your bed with your face scrunched up, it intrigued her. poor girl, you were clearly struggling to keep up with your demanding arousal, your desperate touches giving a second of relief before chased off with another flood of need.

it's rare you're home alone, so there's often a lot of build up. with your dad and his wife at work, you assume you're in the clear.

and by the time you realize she's pushing open your door with an eye roll, it's already too late. you're caught in your own perverted pool of slick and desperation.

and now the laptop plays obnoxiously loud in front of you, doing your best to watch the two women grind their hips together. your legs are hooked over caitlyn's, back against her chest as her long fingers tease over your clit.

you're a mess— in fact, you're probably more horny now then you were before. and when her fingers slip inside you again with a wet squelch, it's embarrassingly easy.

"keep watching," her voice is quiet but demanding, causing you to blink through your frazzled vision to watch the close up of the two women, their cunts slowly gliding over each other. its so sinfully beautiful, the way the lips part and the folds press together with strings of wet slick.

caitlyn had seen a lot of porn in her days, this was painfully mediocre. but fucking her fingers into her stepdaughter at the same pace as the two women seemed to give her a little enthusiasm, her palm rubbing against your achey clit.

she hums softly, almost in thought. her lips hover beside your ear, pausing for a second to listen to your whimpers and moans before speaking; "i'd go slow first..." she begins, gradually slowing the pace of her fingers. "if that were us. i'd make you beg for it,"

she is really not helping. you thought she'd come help you, make you cum and swear not to tell your father. but this was next level.

"...hold your legs open... keep you right there." her fingers withdrawal completely, a smile creeping onto her face when your hips instinctively chase after her touch.

"caitlyn.." your voice is barely a sound, just a meek, desperate whimper for an orgasm.

"what is it, princess?" she coos mockingly, watching your slick drip off her fingers. "what's wrong, hm? tell me."

you almost whine, your hips shifting on the bed in a failed search for friction. caitlyn had always been so proper— strict. you weren't her child, but that didn't mean she let shit slide. and you certainly weren't allowed to whine in hopes of getting your way.

"'need to cum..." you murmur, face flushing in embarrassment.

caitlyn hums, her gaze flickering to the laptop that played the vulgar scene of lesbian sex, and then down between your legs. she watches your needy pussy pulse and drool for her.

her fingers slip into you again, right up to the knuckle and rubbing them against your walls. you squeak, grinding into her hand.

"poor girl.." she murmurs, watching how your body reacts to her. "no mommy to take care of you, hm?" that's when her digits resume pumping in and out, the wet sloshing sound almost drowned out by the moaning on the screen.

you're so close, you have been since she sat behind you and swatted your hand away, but she keeps ripping the orgasm right out from under your feet.

she feels your walls throb and clench around her, leaking around her fingers and onto the bed. "it's alright, sweet girl..."

your breathing gets shakier and heavier, your thighs twitching around her hand as your stomach clenches and tenses. her soft words, condescending or not, almost wreck you on the spot.

"mommy's here. i'm here."

╋━ taglist.

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @evabby @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @abbysbae @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @lesbodietcoke @starting6over @2012wannabe @sapphicloverwlw @lesbpup @danfelog @ocharavitys @trizxyp @aelizreal @luxmith @imlovewithpixels

[sim0nril3y]

Home

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: After an incident in your home you made the decision to move in together. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), very soft, talk of break-in, canon-typical swearing.

It was late evening, Simon had just gotten home himself from meeting with Price and Gaz, they met up and caught up on everything they’d missed in each other’s lives. He still couldn’t bring himself to speak about you in front of them, still wanting to keep you a secret, keep you safe from any parts of his life that could put you in danger. He’d kept quiet even when Price spoke about some pretty thing he’d been seeing and when Gaz brought up the posh bird he'd met at a wedding.

He'd asked for you to call when you got home from work, his phone buzzing as he entered his home caught his attention. Smiling, answering and bringing it up to his ear as he asked. “Get home alright-” The words died in his throat as he heard the sounds of your little hiccups and sobs. “What’s happened? Where are you?” As soon as Simon had entered his home, he’d walked straight back out of it in the direction of his car. “I’m on my way…”

The story was that your flat had been broken into whilst you’d been out at work. The place had been completely ransacked, anything valuable was gone, mostly everything else was trashed and destroyed. The lock on the door was completely busted now and ultimately you just felt vulnerable in your own space, it simply didn’t feel safe anymore.

The whole journey to your block of flats Simon was cursing himself. The one night that he didn’t come pick you up from work, the one night he was busy and focusing on himself you’d fucking needed him, you’d been sacred and alone and come back to your flat to find the door kicked open and worried that whoever had gotten in there might still be in there.

He took the stairs to the flat block two or three at a time, chasing up them to get to you. Everyone in the block seemed to be stirring from the police being on the scene, all out to watch this all unfold. You’d been standing outside of your flat allowing the police to look around the small space inside, searching for anything that might have been left behind in the wake of the chaos that had happened inside. Simon approached and wrapped his strong arms around your trembling form, pulling you into his chest and kissing your forehead as he muttered. “I’m here… I’m here…”

He calmed you. He coaxed you into his arms. He silently seethed about whatever little prick had let themselves into your home, your sanctuary and made their way off with your things, your personal items. Simon would hunt them down given the chance but now wasn’t the time to be raging, all his energy needed to be focused on you. “I know, babe. I know.” He muttered quietly, pulled into his arms, warm and safe in his embrace.

Soon enough the police were done, they advised strongly to stay elsewhere for the night, with a busted door and the place already targeted it was more vulnerable than ever. Simon was collecting some of your clothes into a bag whilst you wandered aimlessly around the rest of the small home, pausing for a long moment at your art supplies, kneeling down to inspect the canvas’. It hurt to see them trampled and discarded like this, just completely destroyed by some heartless thug.

“Y’okay?” The small voice of Simon came from behind you, glancing over your shoulder in his direction. You certainly didn’t look alright, you look so vulnerable, so betrayed in your own place. “I know…” He muttered gently, moving towards you to gently kneel down beside you and look at your canvas. “You’ll make better-”

You mentioned. “I’m too tired to do this.” And he understood, you’d just come home from work to find this horrific event had happened. It wasn’t fair and you didn’t need to process these emotions right now. No, right now, he just needed to get you someplace safe where you could rest your head for a few hours and deal with everything else in the morning.

Following that incident it didn’t take long for the two of you to come to the decision that moving in together would be for the best. Honestly, he thought he’d have a little more difficulty taking that step, but with all that had happened the idea of having you live under the same roof as him, having you around all the time, waking up together, simply knowing that you were safe filled him with this sense of relief and completion.

Everything was set into motion from then, you took to cancelling your tenancy on the flat and the process to move you into Simon’s home was put into effect. With all that was left in your flat it didn’t take much to box up all the remaining furniture and items, three or four trips back and forth from the flat to the house was all it took to move everything over. That was it settled; you were living together.

Simon was holding a box labelled ‘art supplies’ stepping past you to head upstairs. “You can just put it in the garage.” You suggested, after having most of your art destroyed the appeal to make anything new wasn’t inside of you, unsure if it was temporary or permanent you boxed your things away for now to deal with at a later time. “S’alright…” He mentioned, continuing to stomp upstairs. “I’ll put it in your art room.” He commented, now this was enough to make your brow furrow.

“What?” You then proceeded to chase upstairs behind him, following him into the spare room and coming to a stop to see Simon had kitted it out with all the supplies that had been destroyed in the break-in, even a new easel facing to look out the window into the beautiful back garden scenery. “This… is for me?”

It had been something that Simon had noticed that you’d been lacking expressing yourself creatively, usually he’d find you holed up creating something new, or working on an old piece… but since the break-in you’d been almost avoiding it. Placing down the box in his hands he replied. “Well, yeah… you don’t think it’s all for me, do ya?” He asked with a raised brow looking at you, a teasing tone to his voice which made you smile subtly. “Can’t put this stuff in the garage, anyway, got my weights down there.” He informed you with a non-committal shrug.

You watched him for a moment before rushing over and wrapping your arms around him, hugging onto him as tight as you could manage. Simon hugged your back, placing a hand on the back of your head and rubbing your back in a soothing way. “Thank you.” You mumbled into his throat. There was so much that you were thankful to him for but allowing you the space to find that creative side to yourself again was something you’d be eternally grateful to him for. “Thank you.”

“S’alright, babe.” Simon replied, kissing the top of your head and holding you securely in his arms. “You’re safe now.” He muttered, probably more to himself that even you. “You’re home.”

Masterlist | Ask | 20-01-2025

[aro-kai]

Yes to all of this, except possibly the one about people asking who you voted for.

Yeah, if we go fully down the authoritarian drainpipe--it won't be safe to say that. Trump certainly doesn't want you to say it. If he and the people around him feel safe enough doing so, they may find a way to stop you.

Right now, though--we're not there yet. We might go that way, you may be putting yourself at risk doing so, but it's not just about the next 4 years, it's about building a country that won't keep circling the drain. If you openly dissent, you may become at risk--if NOBODY openly dissents, we all will be. Use your best judgement. Keep yourself safe. Don't give up, don't just hunker down. Keep talking to people. This election wasn't the end all--we need to keep people educated, we need to share ideas, we need to keep some hope that people can change their minds (because if none of the people who voted for him do, we're fucked for way longer than four years).

This isn't the end all. Be careful, absolutely, and pick your poison (do you want to grey out so you can better help behind the scenes, do you want to be on the frontlines, whatever in between) but we gotta keep moving. Protest. Call your representatives, even if you don't think they'll listen. Keep up with local politics--states can still make a difference. Vote. All the other things from above, obviously, be safe and be prepared and resist the laws of a government that's going against its people, but don't give up all hope just yet.

reminders for today:

if you or someone you know might need it in the next few years, purchase plan b. the shelf life of plan b is 4 years, and we might not be able to access it as easily as we can now in the days ahead.

if you are larger/plus size: go online and purchase ella instead of plan b. plan b is less effective if you aren’t under 160 pounds.

if you can, purchase books that project 2025 is looking to ban.

mass deportations are starting. if you see ice vehicles or agents, yell ice raid and la migra as loud as you can.

if someone asks who you voted for, keep your mouth shut. they’re fishing for traitors.

if anyone, anyone at all asks about your neighbors or their legal status in the us, you know nothing. don’t be the reason that their family is separated.

if anyone asks about your religion or lack thereof, keep it vague. this administration will look for any excuse to persecute you.

your friends are trans or queer? for the next four years they’re not. don’t expose anyone’s status as a trans or queer person to anyone else, even if you think you can trust them.

did someone you know get an abortion? no, they didn’t. they were never pregnant.

in short, don’t be a snitch, and keep to yourself these next four years. we’ll make it through this even if it seems hopeless at times.

this is all i can think of at the moment, but i’ll be adding on to this as the day continues.

we can survive this. we’ve survived before, and we’ll survive again.

[nor-ay]

Our first masquerade ball - (unrequited love story) 

Shadow Milk Cookie thinks that you are... Odd. Different, if you will. It’s in the way you roll your eyes at White Lily Cookie, in the harsh tone that slips out when you find someone annoying, or in the way that you always seem to be out of place. But don’t get him wrong; he certainly enjoys that. He thinks that you have great potential to be his right hand. He just needs to give you a little push on the right path. Sweet talks to you a little until he gets in your good graces and WHAM, controls you like a puppet. It's a win-win situation; he gets to have you on his team and breaks your friend's spirit. 

At least, that is what he initially thought, but that changes when you accept his gift and lie to your supposed friends. You lie to Pure Vanilla Cookie, and that has him clapping and laughing like a king entertained by the best jester there is in his kingdom. He almost can’t believe it! There is no need for him to break your perception of Pure Vanilla Cookie or the nature of Cookies. You already have resentment towards them. 

… 

You think that Shadow Milk Cookie is testing you. That has to be the only explanation for the gifts and fever dream. It’s not like it bothers you, but when you look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, you feel guilt growing and wrapping itself around you. He’s not deserving of this whole situation… Shaking your head, you try to push all these thoughts away. You’re not evil—

Apple Faerie Cookie’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Cookies! Let’s go to the top of the Spire!” 

“I sincerely hope we’ll find what we’re looking for!” You find Wizard Cookie’s reply relatable. You’re tired too. And desperately wanting to get out.

“I bet you will! Now, shall we?” 

“Um…you guys can go ahead, I have to go, I mean, I forgot something.” You hate how your voice sounds so suspicious! Cringing at yourself, you try to smile. 

GingerBrave is looking at you strangely, and Pure Vanilla Cookie is unusually silent. Strawberry Cookie is the one to break the silence. “Really…? Are you sure?” 

“Yeah! I mean, what's wrong? I’m sure you all can live without me for a bit, right?” You try to laugh, but it sounds forced. When did you become so awkward around…your friends? 

Wizard Cookie frowns “Well, the way you—“ 

“All right! [Name] Cookie, I trust you; I’m sure you’re going to do something helpful! Just be careful.” GingerBrave without realizing it, saves you from being interrogated. And again, your lungs fill with guilt. You find it harder to breathe and the smile on your face falters. You’re not evil. 

“Can you not—ugh, never mind.” Wizard Cookie gives up. And you internally thank the witches for it. 

“Right. Thank you. And- please…be careful on your journey.” Ah, this is what you’re doing now. You don’t feel part of them. You never did. Not even with the five ancient heroes. You were always more of a confidant. Hearing Pure Vanilla’s worries, comforting White Lily Cookie after discovering her other half. Playing along with Golden Cheese Cookie, helping out Dark Cacao Cookie and Holyberry Cookie with their tasks. You never felt like you belonged. And so you grew resentful. 

You turn around and go in the opposite direction. Silence is the only thing you hear while going down the stairs, and you have to blink quickly to stop the tears from falling. You were not lying before when you said that you forgot something. When you arrive at the same spot where you woke up hours ago, the doll is still there. Sitting down, you pick up the mini-you and hug it tightly. Closing your eyes, you confess to no one. “I don’t know what to do… I miss when things used to be easy… I don’t want to hurt them. I’m just, so so so sick and tired of the same things over and over again…it’s like I’m trapped in a loop.” 

…

You don’t know how long it’s been since you parted ways with GingerBrave and company. But, unexpectedly, the doll in your arms starts moving on its own. So you let it go, waiting for its next move. 

Clap

A Colombina mask appears in front of you. It’s beautiful. You smile, thinking it’s a bit ironic. Perhaps even mocking that he gives you a mask. Is this his way of telling you that you’re two-faced? 

Nevertheless, you still put on the mask and follow the doll through some large hallways. Arriving at a luxurious ballroom. “How did we not see this?” You ask, completely in awe. The tiles on the floor are so white that you can see yourself reflected on them.

“Well… I had it hidden, of course; did ya forget that you’re in my domain, mhm?” It takes you a second for your brain to register who answered. 

“S-Shadow Milk Cookie!?” 

“Awe…are you really that surprised to see me? Well? Go ahead!” You notice how he’s also wearing a mask similar to yours. 

“Uh…ah-“ You don’t know what to say. Sweat begins to collect on your forehead. You begin to panic. You have to say something!! But, what can you say that he doesn’t know already?

Before you can think of anything to say, you hear Shadow Milk Cookie groan, as if annoyed. “Ughh right, I’m going too fast, this is a masquerade ball, you’re not supposed to know who I am.” 

“O-kay, let's start over!” You watch dumbfounded as he claps twice and the ballroom fills with different puppets who are dancing and talking to each other. 

You watch all this and can’t help but laugh, and, oh, it feels so freeing to be able to be as loud as you want. Everything is so out of the blue that you just can’t help it. Shadow Milk Cookie seems to be interested in what is making you laugh so much. “I’m sorry…this just doesn’t make any sense, and I love it.” 

He smiles, seeming pleased. “Now, THIS is the type of audience that I like! Alrighty! Let's get to it.” He closes the distance and takes your hand. He runs cold, you shiver at the contact.

You feel relaxed, and that should make you worry, but, as Shadow Milk Cookie gives you a twirl and spins you around the ballroom, you can’t. The giggles don’t seem to stop coming out and your eyes are all teary from all the laughter. Your hands are tightly grasping his shoulders and it doesn’t surprise you how agile he’s on his feet. It’s so easy to let him guide you. 

“Awww look at you! You’re enjoying yourself so so so much! Aren’t you going to ask me where are your frieeends?” 

“Well…,” you start—

“Oh, wait, WAIT, don’t tell me! You finally realize that it’s not with them that you belong? Especially that dreadfully, painfully, unbearably Pure Vanilla Cookie?” You can’t fully read the tone in his voice; it seems playful, but the hate he has for them inevitably seeps in. 

“That’s right,” Your smile wavers as you revert to your natural state of being. “It took me a long time, but… I’ve finally understood who I am and what I want.” A sudden bravery fills your heart as you finally ask him- “Please, take me with you!” You surprise yourself by the loudness of your voice.

Have you always been that desperate to escape your life?

“…” His eyes blink several times and it feels like the whole ballroom has grown silent. You start to feel self-conscious and—

His laugh fills the whole ballroom, and in just a second, Shadow Milk Cookie dips your body back dramatically. You grip onto him like a lifesaver and- and you’re out of breath. “Perfect,” you hear him say. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard. “Alright, since you asked so nicely…you’re with me now!” 

“Huh, so…”

“Oops, looks like I have to go, feel free to explore my humble domain, hehe!” 

He’s gone in the blink of an eye. All the puppets that were dancing vanished too, all left behind in the ballroom was the mini-you doll and your racing heart. 

“…Did he lose track of time?”

Okay!! I actually struggled a bit with the dialogue. In my mind, there were so many different things about what Shadow Milk would say in certain situations! But, I’m happy about how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too!! AND, this is important, the story is going to be on hold until we get episode 8 of Beast-Yeast. It’s not like I can’t improvise, but if I continue, and then they release ep 8, I know that I’ll end up rewriting everything, and I don’t want to do that, to be honest. 

Besides that, I’m already thinking of writing Shadow Milk x reader with a trope that I really enjoy!! Orr some headcanons (maybe nsfw, still unsure about that).

@notboomm @fyodors-belovedxoxo

[chxnsgirl]

현진 ─── the night we met

♡ pairing ៸៸ fratboy!hyunjin x afab!reader genre ៸៸ fluff, angst(ish) ៸៸ cw ៸៸ college!au , mentions of roofies (one is slipped but not consumed) , jake is a meanie (not enha jake, an oc) ♡ synopsis ៸៸ your friends drag you to a frat party. little did you know, you'd make a new friend that night. [ 7.4k words ] a/n ๑ i hope u guys like this , i started writing this after hyunies buzz cut but never got around to finish the first part. there WILL be a part two. ♡ masterlist

ordinarily, parties like this wouldn’t even cross your radar. but tonight was different, thanks to your friends, karina and yuqi, who had practically dragged you out of your cozy dorm. if it were up to you, you’d be holed up with your textbooks, preparing for midterms. instead, you found yourself being strong-armed into attending zeta nu’s pre-winter break bash. they were adamant about going, and equally adamant that you come along. why? you couldn’t fathom. it wasn’t like they didn’t know you were a die-hard introvert. you weren’t exactly a sparkling conversationalist, especially with your anxiety making it nearly impossible to hold a conversation for more than a few minutes. and when it came to talking to guys? forget it—it was a whole new level of nerve-wracking.

this party wasn’t just intimidating because of the social setting; it was who was hosting it. zeta nu wasn’t just any fraternity—it was the fraternity, packed with campus heartthrobs. you’d always had a tendency to lump frat guys into one category: loud, shallow, and hopelessly clueless. and while some of the zeta nu brothers certainly lived up to the stereotype, there were a few you’d noticed around campus who seemed to have some semblance of normalcy. still, the thought of mingling in a house full of them made your stomach churn.

despite your reluctance, you did put some effort into your appearance. you weren’t about to freeze to death in a paper-thin dress like some partygoers. instead, you opted for practicality without sacrificing style: a snug black sweater, thermal tights, and a cute black skirt. it wasn’t extravagant, but it was warm and cute—perfect for braving both the cold and your nerves.

the party was as stereotypical as they come—music blared through the house, its bass vibrating the walls, while couples made out or grinded on each other in dimly lit corners. the kitchen was no exception to the chaos, packed with people eager to fill their cups with whatever concoction was closest at hand. you weren’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse, but your friends had already vanished into the crowd. karina and yuqi were likely off flirting with frat members or losing themselves on the dance floor—activities you had no interest in partaking in tonight.

left to your own devices, you made your way into the kitchen, thinking that maybe a drink could help calm your nerves. standing in front of the counter, you eyed the variety of liquor bottles scattered across it. vodka, whiskey, rum—it was all there, unopened and glaringly intimidating. after a moment of hesitation, you sidestepped past a couple making out aggressively against the cupboards and found your way to the punch bowls.

pouring yourself only the bare minimum, you sipped cautiously. you didn’t want to overdo it—just enough to take the edge off the knot of anxiety that had been sitting in your chest since you walked through the door. cup in hand, you lingered near the wall, keeping to yourself while observing the crowd. occasionally, you nodded your head in rhythm to the music, trying your best to blend in.

a sudden wave of cheers and hollering erupted near the kitchen entrance, drawing your attention. your curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced over to see what all the commotion was about. and there he was.

hyunjin.

the heartthrob of the campus strode into the room with effortless confidence, his presence magnetic. nearly every girl at school had some kind of infatuation with him, and it wasn’t hard to see why. he was tall, his honey-toned skin glowing under the dim lights. his features were impossibly striking—full lips, a perfectly sculpted nose, and eyes that seemed to hold an entire galaxy. you’d always thought he was stunning, but the recent buzz cut he’d gotten made him look even better. the new hairstyle, lighter in color, somehow emphasized his sharp features and perfectly complemented his skin tone.

“how are you late to your own party?” felix, one of the frat members, called out to him with a laugh.

“had something to take care of,” hyunjin replied vaguely, his voice carrying effortlessly over the noise as he made his way to the kitchen island where the liquor bottles were displayed.

as the frat guys gathered around him to take shots, the kitchen grew even more crowded. someone jostled you, and you stumbled, bumping into a girl who looked far too drunk to be standing upright. she turned her bleary but sharp gaze toward you, her expression immediately souring.

“watch it,” she hissed, her tone dripping with disdain as her eyes gave you a once-over. she lingered on you for a moment longer, clearly unimpressed, before staggering off toward the living room without another word.

you sighed, shrinking back toward the corner, feeling as out of place as ever. the night wasn’t going as planned—not that you’d had much of a plan to begin with.

the confrontation with the girl must’ve thrown you off more than you realized because, for a while, the world around you faded into a dull hum. it wasn’t until a sharp whistle cut through the noise that you even blinked, but even that barely registered. a light tap on your shoulder, however, finally brought you back to reality.

you turned, lifting your gaze from the floor to the person standing behind you. he was tall, with tousled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that sparkled in the dim kitchen light. his smile was easy, almost disarming, and there was a casual confidence about the way he stood.

“hey,” he started, his eyes flicking over you briefly, though not in a way that felt invasive. “are you okay?”

you blinked at him, fumbling for words. “no, um, yeah—i’m okay. thanks,” you stammered, your fingers tightening nervously around the cup in your hands.

he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your flustered state. “i’m jake,” he said, gesturing broadly to the space around him. “i’m in zeta nu.”

“y/n,” you managed to reply, your voice a little steadier now. but as the conversation unfolded, a wave of anxiety washed over you, making you hyperaware of every little movement. your hands suddenly felt awkward, like you didn’t know where to put them or what to do with them. jake seemed to pick up on your nervous energy and smiled, a warm, easy expression that somehow put you slightly at ease.

“what’re you drinking?” he asked, leaning slightly to peek into your red solo cup.

you gave a soft laugh, shaking your head as you held up the cup. “just some punch from over there,” you said, nodding toward the bowl on the counter.

jake raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a playful grin. “punch? nah, you need something stronger. look at you—your shoulders are practically glued to your ears.” he stepped past you with a light chuckle, weaving through a cluster of his frat brothers to grab a bottle of tito’s from the counter.

he unscrewed the cap and held the bottle up, giving you a questioning look. “what do you say?”

your heart thudded nervously in your chest, but you found yourself nodding. “um, sure.” you extended your cup with a slightly shaky hand, watching as he poured a generous splash of vodka into the punch.

“thanks,” you muttered, glancing down at the cup, as though measuring the alcohol now mixed in.

“go on, down the hatch,” jake said with a playful nudge, raising his own cup to his lips. his smirk was small but somehow endearing, his eyes watching you expectantly.

you hesitated, the tangy smell of alcohol wafting up to you as you brought the cup to your lips. taking a tentative sip, you winced at the sharp burn that clawed its way down your throat. the sensation settled in your stomach, leaving a faint warmth in its wake.

“atta girl,” jake teased, grinning at your reaction.

you gave him a shy smile in return, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. the taste wasn’t any better the second time, but at least it wasn’t as much of a shock.

“careful,” jake warned, his voice light but genuine. “you don’t wanna drink too fast. trust me on that.”

as the night went on and the alcohol loosened your inhibitions, you found yourself growing more comfortable around jake. the two of you had been chatting and laughing, the drink in your hand slowly dwindling with each passing minute. what you didn’t notice, however, was the pair of sharp eyes watching you from across the room.

hyunjin leaned casually against the doorway to the kitchen, but his posture was deceptive—his focus was entirely on you. the noise and chatter around him had faded into the background as he observed you, a flicker of intrigue glinting in his dark eyes. you were new, unfamiliar, and that alone made you stand out in a sea of familiar faces.

but it wasn’t just curiosity that held his attention—it was something else. something more protective.

he noticed the way jake hovered close to you, his body language bordering on possessive. hyunjin’s jaw tightened, a subtle but telling sign of his unease. jake was a name he knew all too well, and not in a good way. the guy had a reputation within the frat, one hyunjin wasn’t particularly proud of. jake’s charm was surface-deep, and his intentions were rarely anything but self-serving.

hyunjin stayed where he was, his gaze unwavering as he silently kept an eye on the two of you. he didn’t want to overstep or cause unnecessary drama, but the uneasy feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away. something about the way jake interacted with you felt off, like he was toeing the line of what was acceptable.

then it happened.

hyunjin’s stomach sank as he caught it—jake’s hand moving swiftly, almost imperceptibly, toward your cup. you were turned away, laughing at something one of jake’s friends had said, completely oblivious to what had just occurred. hyunjin’s eyes narrowed as he saw jake slip something into your drink, the motion so practiced it was clear this wasn’t his first time.

a surge of anger flared in hyunjin’s chest, hot and immediate. his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought the urge to storm across the room and confront jake then and there. but causing a scene would only make things worse, and he knew it.

all he could think about was getting to you before you took another sip.

hyunjin pushed off the doorway, his heart pounding with urgency. he moved through the crowd, his strides purposeful but controlled. every second felt agonizingly slow, the distance between him and you somehow stretching endlessly. as he approached, his mind raced with how he’d handle the situation. should he confront jake directly? should he quietly pull you aside?

you were still laughing, entirely unaware of the danger sitting innocently in your cup. jake had leaned closer to you now, his easygoing smile masking his true intentions. hyunjin’s anger bubbled closer to the surface as he reached you, his gaze darting to your cup and back to jake.

“hey,” hyunjin called out, his voice calm but firm enough to break through the chatter around you.

you turned toward him, startled. for a moment, you were struck by how impossibly handsome he was, his sharp features softened slightly by the concern in his eyes.

“oh, hi,” you said, blinking in surprise. “do i know you?”

“we’ve never met,” hyunjin replied, his tone steady despite the storm brewing inside him. his eyes flickered briefly to jake, who tensed but tried to play it cool. “can i talk to you for a second? alone?”

jake frowned, his posture shifting defensively. “what’s up, man? we’re in the middle of a conversation here.”

hyunjin’s gaze didn’t waver, locking onto jake with quiet intensity. “it’s important,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

you hesitated, glancing between the two of them. something about the seriousness in hyunjin’s expression made you uneasy, though not in the same way jake did. it was protective, not predatory.

“uh, sure,” you finally said, your curiosity outweighing your reluctance.

hyunjin gently guided you a few steps away, his hand lightly brushing your elbow. once you were out of earshot, he glanced at the drink in your hand.

“don’t drink that,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

your brow furrowed in confusion. “why not?”

he hesitated, clearly wrestling with how much to tell you. “i saw jake put something in it,” he finally admitted, his tone laced with barely restrained anger.

the words hit you like a truck, your stomach dropping. you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “what? are you sure?”

hyunjin nodded, his expression grim. “i wouldn’t say this if i wasn’t sure. please, just trust me.” 

before you could fully process hyunjin’s words, jake appeared beside you, his easy smile now tinged with suspicion.

“everything okay here?” jake asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp as they flicked between you and hyunjin.

hyunjin didn’t back down. his posture straightened, his sharp jaw tightening as he turned to face jake fully. “not really,” he said evenly, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for games.

jake’s brows furrowed, a feigned look of confusion crossing his face. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, forcing a laugh as if to brush off the tension.

“it means i saw what you did,” hyunjin replied, his dark eyes fixed on jake with a piercing intensity.

you froze, your heart pounding as you realized the confrontation was unfolding right in front of you. the party noises around you seemed to fade as your focus honed in on the two men.

jake’s expression shifted, his smile dropping for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice carefully measured.

hyunjin scoffed, his calm exterior beginning to crack as anger seeped into his words. “don’t play dumb, jake. i saw you put something in her drink. you think no one noticed, but i did.”

a wave of shock and fear surged through you as you clutched your cup tightly. you looked down at the liquid, bile rising in your throat at the thought of what could have happened.

jake’s facade faltered, his eyes narrowing. “you’ve got some nerve, man,” he said, stepping closer to hyunjin. “accusing me of something like that? do you have any proof?”

hyunjin didn’t flinch, his voice unwavering as he retorted, “i don’t need proof to know what i saw. and i don’t need it to stop you.”

the tension between them was palpable, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. whispers started to ripple through the crowd as partygoers noticed the confrontation.

jake glanced around, clearly aware that the situation was drawing unwanted attention. his expression darkened, and he leaned closer to hyunjin, lowering his voice. “you don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it needs to be,” he said, his tone dripping with thinly veiled aggression.

hyunjin stepped forward, closing the distance between them. his voice dropped, but it carried the weight of barely contained fury. “the only person making this a big deal is you, jake. whatever you thought you’d get away with tonight isn’t happening.”

jake sneered, his composure finally slipping. “you don’t even know her,” he hissed. “why do you care so much?”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened, and his response was immediate. “because what you did is disgusting. and i don’t care if i just met her or if i’ve known her my whole life—what’s right is right.”

you watched the exchange, your chest tightening as the gravity of the situation hit you. hyunjin’s words struck something deep inside you, and for the first time that night, you felt a sliver of safety amidst the chaos.

before things could escalate further, another voice broke through the tension. “what the hell is going on here?”

felix, had appeared, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. he glanced between hyunjin, jake, and you, clearly trying to piece together what was happening.

hyunjin turned to felix, his expression firm but calm. “jake spiked her drink,” he said without hesitation.

felix’s eyes widened, and his gaze snapped to jake. “is that true?”

jake’s face twisted, his confidence slipping as he realized he was outnumbered. “no! he’s making shit up!” jake exclaimed, his voice rising defensively.

felix’s expression hardened, and he looked at you. “did you drink it?” he asked, his tone serious.

you shook your head, your voice shaky as you finally spoke. “no... not yet. hyunjin stopped me.”

felix let out a relieved sigh, then turned to jake with a glare. “if this is true, you’re done here, jake. we don’t do that shit.”

jake’s defensive posture shifted, his bravado cracking under the weight of felix’s accusation and the judgmental stares of the other frat members who were now gathering around. “this is bullshit,” jake spat, his voice rising. “he’s lying. i didn’t do anything.”

felix’s gaze remained on jakes for a few minutes, before he finally came to a decision and spoke up. “jake’s done here. we’ll handle this.”

the other frat members murmured their agreement, some shooting jake disgusted looks. felix stepped closer to jake, lowering his voice but keeping his tone firm. “leave now. we’ll be reporting this, and if you show your face here again, you’ll regret it.”

jake glared at hyunjin one last time, his lips curling into a sneer. “you think you’re a hero, huh?” he hissed, but the words lacked their usual bite. without waiting for a response, he shoved past the crowd and stormed out of the kitchen, his retreat drawing murmurs from the partygoers who had witnessed the scene.

felix sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. he turned to you, his expression softening. “are you okay?”

you nodded, though your hands still trembled as you clutched your cup. “yeah… thanks to him,” you said, glancing at hyunjin.

felix offered hyunjin a grateful nod. “let me take that from you.” felix gestured to the cup that was still in your hand. you handed him the cup, happy to get rid of it. “thanks.”

hyunjin didn’t respond immediately, his focus still on you. “you shouldn’t be here,” he said gently, his voice much softer now. “let me get you out of this place.”

you hesitated, glancing toward the living room where the party was still in full swing. the idea of leaving felt like relief, a way to escape the chaos and process what had just happened. 

“o-okay,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

hyunjin offered a reassuring smile. “come on.”

he guided you carefully through the crowd, his hand hovering near your lower back without actually touching you, giving you space but also silently signaling he was there if you needed him. the cold night air hit you like a wake-up call as you stepped outside, the muffled bass of the party fading into the background.

“do you want to sit for a minute?” hyunjin asked, nodding toward a quiet bench near the edge of the yard.

you nodded, letting him lead the way. the two of you sat down, the crisp air biting at your skin. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the events of the night hanging heavily between you.

“thank you,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t even know what to say. if you hadn’t been there…”

hyunjin shook his head, his expression serious. “you don’t have to thank me. i just did what anyone decent would do.”

you looked at him, taking in his earnestness, the way his dark eyes held a mixture of concern and kindness. “not everyone would’ve stepped in like you did.” you murmured. 

hyunjin offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i’m just glad you’re okay.”

the silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was comforting, a shared moment of calm after the storm. you found yourself relaxing for the first time all night, the tension in your shoulders easing under his quiet presence.

“can i walk you home?” he asked after a moment, breaking the silence. “just to make sure you’re safe.”

you hesitated, then nodded. “yeah… i’d like that.”

as the two of you walked away from the party, side by side under the glow of the streetlights, you felt a strange sense of gratitude—not just for what he’d done, but for him. there was something about hyunjin that made you feel seen, protected.

hyunjin glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “you don’t seem like the kind of person who goes to frat parties often.”

you let out a soft laugh, still a little shaky but genuine. “that obvious, huh?”

he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “a little. you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“because i would’ve,” you admitted, clutching your coat tighter against the cold. “my friends dragged me there. they thought it would be good for me to ‘get out more.’” you air-quoted the phrase, rolling your eyes playfully.

hyunjin chuckled, his warm laughter cutting through the chilly air. “guess they didn’t expect you to almost need rescuing, huh?”

“yeah, not exactly what i had in mind when they said ‘fun night out,’” you replied, shaking your head. “what about you? you don’t seem like the typical frat guy either.”

hyunjin shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. "well, you know what they say— book, cover." he said with a playful grin. "truth is, i’m not really into parties either. felix just likes having me around, so i showed up."

“and ended up saving someone from disaster,” you said with a small smile.

he smirked, tilting his head as he looked at you. “not the way i thought my night would go, but i’m glad i was there.”

you walked in silence for a moment, the rhythm of your steps syncing.

“so, what do you usually do when you’re not being dragged to parties?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

“studying, mostly,” you admitted. “i’m kind of a nerd. i like staying in and reading or watching movies. parties aren’t really my scene.”

“books and movies sound way better than parties,” hyunjin said, nodding in agreement. “what do you study?”

“english literature,” you said, feeling a little more at ease. “i’ve always loved stories—reading them, writing them, analyzing them. it’s like stepping into another world.”

hyunjin’s eyes lit up. “that’s cool. i’ve always thought literature was beautiful, even if i’m not great at it. i’m more of an art guy.”

your interest piqued. “art? like painting and drawing?”

he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “yeah. i’ve been drawing since i was a kid. it’s how i make sense of things, i guess. and painting—it’s like therapy for me.”

“that’s amazing,” you said sincerely. “i wish i could draw, but i can barely make a stick figure look decent.”

hyunjin laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made you smile. “it’s not about being perfect. it’s about expressing yourself. stick figures count too, you know.”

you grinned, feeling warmth bloom in your chest despite the cold. “maybe i’ll have to give it another shot sometime.”

“you should,” he said, his voice encouraging. “i could even show you some basics if you want.”

your eyes widened slightly. “you’d do that?”

“of course,” he replied with a shrug. “you might surprise yourself.”

the conversation flowed easily as you walked, each step bringing a new layer of comfort. hyunjin shared stories about how he found inspiration in the smallest things—sunsets, the way light reflected off a window, even the texture of tree bark. you told him about your favorite books and how certain characters felt like old friends.

by the time you reached your dorm building, the unease of the night had melted away, replaced by a quiet warmth.

“this is me,” you said, gesturing to the door.

hyunjin nodded, stopping a few steps away. “well, i’m glad you’re home safe.”

“thanks to you,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “i really mean it. thank you, hyunjin.”

his smile was gentle, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “you’re welcome. get some rest, okay?”

you nodded, hesitating before heading toward the door. something about him made you linger, a pull you couldn’t quite explain.

“hyunjin?” you called, turning back.

hyunjin paused mid-step, turning back to you with a curious tilt of his head. "yeah?"

you bit your lip, debating for a moment before gathering the courage to speak. “i know it’s late, but… would you want to come in for a bit? i mean, you did save me tonight. it’s the least i can do—offer you some tea or something.”

his brows lifted slightly in surprise, but his smile quickly returned, soft and genuine. “tea sounds nice,” he said, stepping back toward you. “if you’re sure i’m not intruding.”

“you’re not,” you reassured him. “i’d actually like the company.”

with that, you unlocked the door and led him inside. the quiet hum of the building greeted you, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the party you’d left behind. your dorm was small but cozy, with a few personal touches—books stacked on a small shelf, a throw blanket draped over a chair, and fairy lights strung across the walls casting a warm glow.

hyunjin took it all in with an appreciative glance. “this is nice,” he said, his voice low as if not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. “seems very you.”

“thanks,” you replied, setting your coat aside and motioning for him to do the same. “make yourself comfortable. i’ll get the tea.”

as you moved to the kitchenette, hyunjin wandered over to your bookshelf, scanning the titles. “you weren’t kidding about loving books,” he said with a small laugh, pulling one off the shelf. “this one’s a classic,” he added, holding it up.

you glanced over your shoulder, smiling. “pride and prejudice. it’s one of my favorites.”

“really?” he flipped through a few pages, his expression thoughtful. “i’ve always wanted to read it but never got around to it. maybe you can tell me why you love it so much.”

you returned with two steaming mugs, setting them down on the small coffee table. “it’s the characters,” you explained as you sat down, motioning for him to join you. “elizabeth bennet is so strong and smart, and mr. darcy... well, he’s misunderstood at first, but he has a lot of depth. it’s about how they grow and learn to see each other differently.”

hyunjin sat across from you, cradling his mug as he listened intently. “that sounds... kind of beautiful,” he said after a moment. “i think i’d like it.”

“i could lend it to you if you want,” you offered.

his smile widened, his gaze meeting yours. “i’d like that.”

the conversation drifted from books to art again, and you found yourself captivated by the way hyunjin spoke about his creative process. he described the way he saw the world in vivid colors and shapes, how even the most mundane objects could inspire a new piece.

“you must have an amazing sketchbook,” you said, leaning forward with interest.

hyunjin chuckled, a hint of bashfulness coloring his tone. “i do, but it’s pretty messy. lots of half-finished ideas and random doodles. maybe i’ll show you someday.”

“i’d love that,” you replied softly.

time seemed to slow as the two of you continued talking, the earlier tension of the night now a distant memory. hyunjin’s presence was calming, his laughter infectious, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at ease.

eventually, the clock caught your attention, and you realized how late it had gotten.

“i didn’t mean to keep you so long,” you said apologetically. “you probably have things to do tomorrow.”

hyunjin shook his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “no complaints here. this was a lot better than that party.”

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “i’m glad.”

as he stood to leave, hyunjin turned back to you, his expression sincere. “thank you for inviting me in. tonight didn’t turn out how i expected, but... i think it turned out better.” 

you watched as hyunjin reached for the door. something about the way he spoke, the warmth in his voice, made your chest tighten. you didn’t want the moment to end—not yet.

“hyunjin, wait,” you called, taking a small step forward.

he paused immediately, his hand dropping from the doorknob. turning to face you, his brows raised slightly in curiosity. 

you hesitated, the words tangling in your throat. your heart was racing, but you didn’t want to overthink it this time. “i just… i don’t think i can thank you enough for what you did tonight. i don’t even want to think about how it could’ve gone if you hadn’t been there.”

hyunjin’s gaze softened, his expression melting into something both tender and reassuring. “you don’t need to thank me anymore. i was just doing what anyone should do.”

“but it wasn’t just anyone,” you replied quietly, stepping closer. “it was you.”

the space between you seemed to hum with unspoken emotions, the quiet hallway amplifying the sound of your heartbeat. hyunjin’s eyes held yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he simply watched you, as though waiting for you to continue.

you took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt this safe around someone before. not like tonight.”

hyunjin’s lips parted slightly, as if to respond, but then he stopped. instead, he closed the remaining gap between you, his movements slow, deliberate. “i’m glad i could be that for you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath caught as his gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. the tension in the air was palpable now, a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist. without overthinking, you reached out, your fingers lightly brushing against the edge of his coat.

“hyunjin…” you murmured, leaning in just slightly.

he didn’t hesitate this time. gently, he cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he leaned down, closing the space between you. his lips met yours softly, the kiss tentative at first, as though testing the waters.

the world seemed to fade away, the moment stretching into something timeless and fragile. his warmth enveloped you, his hand steady against your cheek as the other hovered near your arm, as if unsure where to go.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet. hyunjin’s eyes fluttered open, his cheeks dusted with the faintest hint of pink.

“that was…” he began, but words seemed to escape him. instead, a small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips.

“yeah,” you whispered, mirroring his smile.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the kiss lingering in the space between you. then hyunjin’s hand slipped from your cheek, his fingers brushing yours. “are you sure you’ll be okay tonight?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you nodded, the warmth of the moment still thrumming in your chest. “i think i’ll be more than okay.”

he smiled again, his eyes soft as they searched yours. “good. then… i’ll see you soon?”

“definitely,” you said, your voice filled with quiet certainty.

hyunjin lingered for another second before finally stepping back toward the door. as he left, you couldn’t help but touch your lips, a soft smile spreading across your face. tonight hadn’t turned out how you expected either—but in the best way possible.

a few days after the winter bash, you and hyunjin found yourselves texting constantly. the conversations were effortless, flowing from lighthearted banter to meaningful exchanges about your dreams and fears. he shared sketches of his art, and you sent him snippets of your writing, both of you encouraging and admiring each other's talents. despite the chaos of the party where you first connected, something special had grown between you.

when hyunjin invited you to visit the local art gallery before midterms, you eagerly agreed. it felt intimate, a shared space where he could reveal more of himself to you.

the gallery was quiet, with the low hum of classical music playing in the background. the soft glow of lights illuminated the vibrant and haunting pieces adorning the walls. hyunjin led you inside, his presence both calming and exhilarating.

“i come here a lot,” he admitted as you wandered past a series of abstract paintings. “it’s like stepping into another world. art makes sense to me in a way that words sometimes don’t.”

you smiled at the thought. “i get that. it’s how i feel about books. they’re a way to escape, to see things through someone else’s eyes.”

hyunjin stopped in front of a sprawling canvas painted in deep reds and golds, the colors swirling together like a storm. “this one’s my favorite,” he said softly. “it’s chaotic, but there’s beauty in the chaos. like... even in the mess, there’s something worth finding.”

you studied the painting, trying to see it the way he did. “it’s beautiful,” you murmured. “it kind of reminds me of you.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “me?”

“you’re so passionate,” you explained. “there’s this energy about you, like you see the world differently. it’s inspiring.”

hyunjin’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, smiling. “that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

the moment felt perfect, like you were sharing something sacred. as you moved through the gallery, he pointed out more pieces, sharing their stories and what they meant to him. you hung on every word, feeling closer to him with each step.

but as the two of you stopped at a sculpture that seemed to twist and defy gravity, hyunjin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he glanced at it briefly, his expression flickering with discomfort.

“everything okay?” you asked.

“yeah,” he said quickly, tucking his phone away. “just felix checking in.”

you didn’t push further, though something about his response left a faint unease in your chest.

the gallery’s warm light faded as you and hyunjin stepped into the brisk evening air, your breaths visible in the cold. the quiet hum of the city surrounded you, and the sharp chill seemed to heighten the glow of the night. hyunjin glanced at you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, before motioning toward a nearby café with a soft smile.

“want to grab something warm?” he asked.

you nodded, the idea of a hot drink too tempting to resist. the two of you walked side by side, the air between you charged with a quiet camaraderie that felt both new and familiar.

inside the cozy café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. hyunjin ordered a coffee, and you opted for a hot chocolate. afterward, you found a bench outside, under the soft glow of a streetlamp, and settled down with your drinks.

as you sipped from your cup, savoring the rich, velvety warmth, you noticed hyunjin pulling a small sketchbook from his bag. he flipped it open and began drawing, his pencil gliding across the page with practiced ease.

“what are you working on?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, curiosity piqued.

he hesitated, his lips curving into a small, shy smile before turning the notebook toward you. your breath hitched as you saw yourself staring back at you from the page. it was an uncanny likeness—your soft, thoughtful expression captured in exquisite detail, the curve of your fingers around the cup, even the way your scarf bunched at your neck.

“wow,” you whispered, touched and a little awestruck. “it’s beautiful.”

hyunjin’s cheeks turned pink, and he looked away bashfully. “i wanted to remember this moment,” he admitted softly.

warmth bloomed in your chest, and your heart beat a little faster. just as you were about to respond, his phone buzzed on the bench beside him. for a brief moment, his brow furrowed, but then he silenced it and slid it back into his pocket without even glancing at the screen.

“when i finish it, i’ll give it to you,” he said with a grin, slipping the notebook into his bag.

“you’d do that?” you asked, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“of course,” he said, his voice light with amusement. “think of it as an early christmas present.”

before you could respond, the jingling of a bell caught your attention. you glanced up toward the café’s door to see felix walking out, a steaming cup in his hand and a surprised smile on his face.

“well, look at you two,” felix said, his gaze flicking between you and hyunjin. his expression was warm, but you noticed the faintest hint of curiosity in his eyes—like he’d stumbled upon something unexpected.

hyunjin cleared his throat, his fingers idly spinning his coffee cup. “just grabbing a drink,” he said casually, though there was a slight edge of awkwardness to his tone.

“yeah,” you chimed in, glancing at hyunjin for a moment before turning back to felix. “we went to the art gallery down the street before this.”

felix’s eyebrows lifted slightly, his grin widening. “this a date?” he asked, his tone playful but his gaze lingering on hyunjin, as if gauging his reaction.

you froze, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as you instinctively glanced at hyunjin.

“u-um, yeah,” hyunjin stammered, his voice faltering slightly as he nodded.

felix’s smile softened, and he gave a small nod. “good for you,” he said lightly before taking a sip of his drink. “well, don’t let me interrupt. have fun.”

he shot hyunjin a knowing look before walking off into the night.

the silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. hyunjin turned to you, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry about that. i... probably should’ve asked first.”

you laughed softly, the sound easing the tension. “it’s okay. i didn’t mind.”

“really?” he asked, his tone careful, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. it’s... nice. unexpected, but nice.”

hyunjin’s features softened, and his lips curled into a smile. “well, in that case,” he said, lifting his coffee cup slightly, “here’s to unexpected nights.”

“to unexpected nights,” you echoed, clinking your cup lightly against his, rolling your eyes playfully.

the week before winter break was an exhausting blur, a whirlwind of stress that left you teetering on the edge of burnout. between the seemingly endless midterms, the chaotic frenzy of packing, and the careful coordination of plans to visit your family, there was barely a moment to catch your breath. each spare second was consumed by last-minute assignments, looming deadlines, and the relentless pressure to wrap everything up before the semester ended.

amid the chaos, hyunjin had become a constant presence in your life, an unexpected source of calm. the time you spent together felt like a refuge from the storm—a quiet interlude of shared smiles and easy conversation that made the weight on your shoulders a little lighter. the dynamic between you had shifted subtly but unmistakably; there was something growing, something unspoken but palpable.

hyunjin’s presence had a grounding effect. whether it was the way he’d catch your eye during study sessions and offer a reassuring smile, or how he’d casually walk you back to your dorm after late nights at the library, there was a comfort in his company that you hadn’t realized you were craving. he had a knack for making even the most mundane moments feel meaningful—offering to share his notes when you were drowning in coursework, or surprising you with a hot drink when he noticed you were running on empty.

it wasn’t just the gestures, though. it was the way he listened, truly listened, when you spoke about your dreams and fears, your frustrations and triumphs. it was in the way he’d share pieces of himself in return, his thoughts and stories painting a picture of someone who was far more complex and thoughtful than you’d initially realized.

whatever was growing between you two felt fragile yet promising, like the first bloom of a flower peeking through the frost. it wasn’t something either of you had labeled or defined yet, but it lingered in the way your conversations lingered a little too long, in the way your eyes sought each other across crowded rooms, in the way his hand would brush yours as you walked together—and neither of you would pull away.

one afternoon, you were holed up in the library, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you stared at the blinking cursor on your screen. a paper due by midnight mocked you, and no matter how hard you tried, the words wouldn’t come. frustration mounted, and you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, rubbing at your temples.

“i need a break,” you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly.

deciding a walk might help clear your head, you wandered aimlessly through the quiet aisles of books, the muted hum of the library’s heating system filling the air. you turned a corner near the back hallway, where the restrooms were located, and stopped short.

the sight that greeted you made your stomach lurch.

hyunjin.

he was leaning casually against the wall, his expression soft and animated as he spoke to a girl. she stood close to him, smiling brightly, her body language open and familiar. they were deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

your initial surprise was quickly replaced by a sharp pang of unease. you didn’t want to intrude, so you took a cautious step back, intending to leave before they noticed you. but then, hyunjin’s laugh rang out, low and warm, and you couldn’t help but peek around the corner again.

and that’s when it happened.

hyunjin leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her.

your heart dropped like a stone.

for a moment, you were frozen in place, unable to process what you were seeing. your chest tightened, a lump forming in your throat as disbelief washed over you. you hadn’t officially defined anything with him—hadn’t even explicitly talked about what your relationship meant—but seeing him with someone else felt like a punch to the gut.

without thinking, you stepped back quickly, your heel scuffing against the floor. the small sound echoed in the quiet hallway. hyunjin pulled back from the kiss, his head turning sharply in your direction.

your eyes met his, and the color seemed to drain from his face.

“y/n?” he called softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty and guilt.

panic surged through you. you shook your head and turned away, your heart pounding as you hurried back the way you came.

“wait!” hyunjin’s voice followed you, but you didn’t stop.

he caught up to you near the library’s entrance, his footsteps quick and light. “y/n, please. just—let me explain.”

you whirled around to face him, your emotions threatening to boil over. “explain what, hyunjin?” you asked, your voice trembling. “i saw enough.”

“it’s not what it looked like,” he said, his expression pleading.

you crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “then tell me. what was it? because it sure looked like you were kissing her.”

hyunjin ran a hand along his hair, his frustration evident. “it wasn’t planned. she... she kissed me first.”

“and you just went along with it?” you snapped, your hurt spilling out.

he hesitated, and the pause spoke volumes. you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “i can’t believe this.”

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “it didn’t mean anything. she’s just—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “i don’t want to hear excuses right now. i just—” you exhaled sharply, your chest tight. “i need to go.”

without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving hyunjin standing there, his face etched with regret.

the cold air outside hit you like a slap, but it did little to numb the ache in your chest. you didn’t look back, too afraid to betray your words if you did.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

��chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Shadow x reader

but like shadow is introducing her to like sonic and the others lol

I want to see Sonic be like ‘how tf-‘

-🩸

“Awkward Introduction”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Female Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: No one, except for maybe Rouge, thought Shadow would ever get a partner. Well, here you were! And things were going to get awkward, real fast.

Notes: Oooh, this one will be a lot of fun! Awkward stuff is pretty funny! Hope you enjoy, anon! (Blood anon? Should I call you that based on the emoji?-)

(Reader will use She/They pronouns.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

It’s a normal day in Autumn Village, your hometown.

You’re relaxing with your boyfriend, Shadow the Hedgehog, the two of you cuddling while watching a movie.

Shadow has his head on your lap, making a quiet clicking sound as you pet his quills, his quills being in a relaxed stature so he doesn’t prick you.

The two of you remain this way until Shadow’s communicator on the nearby table rings, causing him to grumble, the clicking noise (which you found out was him purring) stopping.

He gets up from your lap, grabbing his communicator from the table and answering it with a grumpy face.

“What do you want,” Shadow spats out.

“Whaat, can’t I ask my favorite rival on a race?” a voice from the communicator asks.

“No, Sonic. I’m busy,” Shadow states.

“There’s no way you’re busy!” Sonic says as-a-matter-of-factly. “Besides, our friends planned a picnic for us and I thought a race would get you to come!”

“Your friends,” Shadow corrects.

“Amy even brought a dark chocolate cake!” Sonic says.

Damnit, dark chocolate cake was his favorite.

Shadow lets out a sigh.

“Fine. But I’m bringing someone along,” Shadow says before hanging up. “You up for a picnic, [Name]?”

“Oh, sure! We can finish our Pokémon movie when we get back,” you say with a smile. You pause the movie and turn off the TV, getting up from the couch and putting your shoes on.

Shadow opens the door for you and the two of you exit the house, Shadow closing the door before smirking, picking you up in a bridal style carry before running at high speeds towards the picnic location as you wrap your arms around his neck.

When you two arrive at the location, all eyes are immediately on you as Shadow sets you down. Everyone seems flabbergasted.

“Um…Hello!” you say, waving slightly, a bit nervous.

“Hi! My name is Tails, it’s nice to meet you!” the two-tailed fox says.

“Who’s she, Shads?” Sonic asks.

“This is [Name],” Shadow starts. “My partner.”

Everyone’s mouth goes agape, until the pink-quilled hedgehog and the white-furred bat suddenly squeal out of happiness.

“Congratulations, Shadow!” the hedgehog says, giving him a hug. “I knew you could do it!”

“Good job, hun, took you a while to confess,” the bat says.

“Rouge, her and I have been dating for five months,” Shadow states.

“You’ve kept this a secret for five months?!” Sonic asks.

“Wow Sonic, how’d Shadow manage to get a girl before you?” the red echidna asks.

“Shut it, Knuckles,” Sonic grumbles.

“Hmph, some “fastest thing alive” you are, Sonic,” Shadow says with a smirk.

“You, Shads, are a butt,” Sonic says.

You let out a giggle. This’ll certainly be interesting to get used to.

[artist-issues]

Hi.

Jasmine - Went beyond the idea of “consent” to say what she really wanted was “a real friend” and “love” if married. Once she got those things, even when they were falsely found in Prince Ali, no more “boldly sneaking out for independence” for her.

Rapunzel - Wanted to go see the world and experience things for herself but discovered the best experience and dream was love, from a man, who she was willing to give “experiencing things” up for the sake of (when Mother Gothel stabbed him and she promised not to escape again if she could heal him.)

Snow White - Absolutely literally 100% “waiting for a man.” Her song is called “Someday My Prince Will Come.” Her prayer is for Grumpy, a man, to like her. She’s happiest when she’s showing love to the male characters around her. And that kind of love is what inspires and transforms them, to be less self-centered.

Mulan - Wanted to have a safe father and prove she was worthwhile—which she was. Long before she ever went off to war, she had her father’s love and esteem. “The greatest gift and honor is having you for a daughter.” She never needed to go to war to prove that. She never needed to prove she was as good as a man to do that, or better than a man, to do that. She had it all along.

Aurora - Not forced. Protected. By superpowered women who gave up their power, dignity, and identities just to keep her safe. And when she found out she couldn’t have the man she was in love with, she was heartbroken, but did not rebel against authority—because she’s the kind of precious woman who respects others and is worth protecting.

Cinderella - The Fairy Godmother does not “empower” Cinderella so that Cinderella can “reach her goals.” The Fairy Godmother gives Cinderella her “goals.” Literally. And she does it as a direct result of Cinderella willingly waiting for help. Not help necessarily from a Prince, but help from Something outside of herself. Fate, destiny, (in the original fairy tale it’s God) to “make her dreams come true.” And then after she meets the Prince? She certainly is “waiting” for him. She’s not sneaking out of the house by her wit and moxy to wave her slipper in front of his face and lecture him about how he can’t recognize her if she’s not in a ball gown. It’s her faith that saves her. And faith is dependent on something outside her own abilities.

Pocahontas - Wants to do the right thing, her “destined path,” instead of the smoothest, easiest thing, which is what everyone in her tribe sees as the highest good. And when hate is introduced, she combats it with love—not by “befriending” John Smith, but by giving her heart to John Smith, despite the fact that he can be a prejudiced blowhard. She loves him anyway. And that love allows her to see him as human, when everyone else sees him as less-than human. Same thing, with him to her. Without him in her life helping her to put belief into action, Pocahontas would have had no ability to convince anyone not to go to war.

Tiana - Why is everyone so obsessed with who-saves-who? Tiana worked to be an independent restaurant owner and that got her nothing, and if it had gotten her anything she straight-up says later in the movie that her dream (independence and ownership) would have been incomplete. Dissatisfying. Without who? Without a man. Without Naveen. Because love is worth more than gain, status, or validation—and she was never going to get love, gain, or validation without the help of a Higher Power. Her “the only way I’m going to get what I want is through my own hard work” philosophy was wrong, the whole movie worked hard to prove it wrong.

Belle - Belle’s “willingness to see past the exterior” did not save Prince Adam. Her showing him what it looks like to love someone self-sacrificially—meaning, you give up your own independence and your own dreams, for someone you love (her father)—is what gave him hope, and that hope led to him doing the same for her. Sacrificing his own interests for her, which is love, which is what broke the curse. Their love for each other broke the curse, it was not “her-saving-him.” And his name’s not Prince Adam, get over it, it’s the Beast.

Ariel - Ariel did not want to be human before she met Eric. She wanted to be part of the human world and understand it, and sure, she thought having feet and living in a world where she wasn’t told what to do all the time would be pretty cool—but “want,” as in, “give up anything for it, ready to go right now,” NO. She markedly did not want to leave her family and give up everything. Not until she had confirmation that she was right—that humans are not barbarians, and can be wonderful—and ERIC is that confirmation, for her. Eric is the inciting incident. Eric is the reason, the big “WHY” behind Ariel leaving the sea. She did give up everything for him. That’s the movie. There’s a shift in her motivations in the movie, and it happens when she sees that A) Eric is a dreamer like her, B) Eric is ridiculed for the way he sees the world like her, but he keeps believing anyway, and C) Eric risks his life to save other creatures instead of being a “spineless savage harpooning fish-eating barbarian.” Ariel did not want independence. She didn’t sign away her life and leave her family so she could dance around exploring the surface alone and independent. She did it so that she could be with someone. Who? Oh. A man. For love. And he absolutely does save her.

Merida - Merida’s movie is not about romance. The topic of “Arranged marriage” is only in the movie at all as a mini object lesson for “be brave enough to let a child decide what they’ll do with all you’ve taught them, instead of trying to force them out of a fear that they’ll make the wrong decision.” It’s really not making a statement about marriage at all. That’s just a low-hanging “the audience can understand Merida’s misgivings” fruit they grabbed.

Again—why are you all so obsessed with who-saves-who?

If you do the saving, congratulations, you demonstrated that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, the hardest thing to sacrifice, for the sake of another. If you get saved, CONGRATULATIONS, you’re loved enough to be treated as worth such a sacrifice. BOTH THOSE THINGS ARE AWESOME. The worst thing to be is someone who 1) acts on their own self-interest (oh, like if your highest dream is to be “independent”) or 2) is completely unloved by anyone, and if you were endangered, nobody would even notice. Nobody would even want to demonstrate how much you mean to them by trying to save you.

Those are the worst things you could be. Why are you all so eager for your women characters to be those horrible loveless things? OR your men??

Also waiting?? Waiting to be saved? Have you ever lived any life, ever? Have you ever been in a circumstance you can’t change—yes you have, because you’re a human being who is not all-powerful. Don’t you know how incredible being able to wait for someone else to help you is? Do you know what the alternative is? Living in denial because you arrogantly believe that you have all the power to not only know what the exact right thing to do is to change your circumstance, but if you could just get it right, everything would change. OR. The other denial? Giving up. Letting your circumstances change you. My family hates me, so I’ll hate them back. I can’t get away so I might as well die. Those alternatives are the natural, easy, response we sink right into.

But waiting in hopeful expectation? Waiting because you trust someone else? Not letting your emotions be yanked up and down and all around by the shallow people and hard circumstances around you? That is hard to do.

These characters who wait on saviors and trust in love are so much stronger than the strong independent nothings you’re imagining.

Sincerely,

A woman who is waiting on The Man to come back and save her.

#StickIt

[aerynwrites]

Cravings

John Price x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Based on THIS idea that came to me. This is most likely going to be an on going little interconnected one shot series as I already have other ideas for John and his cute lil' pregnant neighbor. Hope you all enjoy this one! Word Count: 3k Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, fluff, soft john price. Next Part

The ceramic plate feels unusually heavy in your hands, but so does your fist as you bring it up to knock on the door in front of you before dropping it again, internally battling with yourself. 

What the fuck are you doing?

That’s the first thought that runs through your head as you stand stupidly in front of your neighbors door, the smell of…something so tantalizing wafting through from the other side making your mouth water. 

Ah, right - silly pregnancy brain basically forced you from your apartment with a plate in your hand because while you don’t know what your neighbor is cooking it smells so fucking good that you fear you might die if you don’t have some of it. 

It’s silly, you know it is, it’s outrageous really - what were you planning to do? Waltz up to this man's door, knock, and then hold out your plate - “alms for the poor pregnant lady please?”

You sigh, dropping the plate by your side as the thought runs through your mind. You almost turn to walk back to your apartment empty handed, but then a faint memory surfaces for just a moment. Your neighbor isn’t a stranger, and while he isn't quite a friend, either - he’s been kind enough. You actually hadn’t run into him all that often, your first interaction with him being a couple months into your pregnancy actually. 

You’d been grappling with a large box, trying and ultimately failing to get it up the stairs to your second floor apartment, stranding you on the landing between the stairs as you stared up at the last flight. You were leaning against the wall, hand on your slightly rounded belly when you heard John’s door open and close, him appearing around the corner shortly after, surprise coloring his features at the scene before him. 

“Need some help with that?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips. 

You huffed out a small laugh, giving him a smile of your own. “Only if you’re offering.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to let you do it by yourself, not in your condition.”

You let out a soft ‘hmph’ at that - hating when people refer to your predicament as a condition. You’re pregnant, not bedridden. 

“Where is your better half anyways?” He’d asked, picking up the box with such little effort it made you jealous, “I outta teach him a thing or two about manners-”

You wave him off, the mention of your baby's father leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Not in the picture,” you say simply, quickly putting an end to the line of questioning.

Your neighbor paused at that, but decided not to push it, staying silent until you reached your door. You unlocked it and told him he could leave the box at the door but he’d insisted on at least putting it inside the apartment. 

“Do you…” he paused for a moment, rubbing his beard chin in thought. “You need help getting it put together?” 

You glance down at the box, it’s just a crib, it’ can’t be that hard.

You give him a warm smile, shaking your head. “You’ve been plenty of help, I should be able to get it from here.”

He nods, turning back towards the door before stopping just past the threshold and holding his hand out towards you. “John Price. I’m over in 2C if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

You shake his hand, and smile before he heads back down the stairs. 

John Price…

Your interactions past that had been spread thin - although you did end up asking for his help with the crib - it was in no way a one person job. But other than that…it was just friendly conversations or waves as you passed one another in the hallway or stairs. 

But as you stand here, the smell of food getting stronger and more inviting, his words replay again. 

“Don’t hesitate to ask…”

Fuck it. 

You reach up and knock on his door before you can stop yourself, clutching the plate against your chest as you hear a faint call from inside, and then the smell of whatever the hell he’s cooking is hitting you full force as the door swings open. 

Your name falls from his lips as he looks at you, that slight look of surprise on his face once again as he takes you in on his doorstep. You probably are a sight - leggings, oversized sweatshirt, only in your fuzzy socks and a plate in your hand. 

“Look, I know this is going to sound so stupid,” you begin, rushing to explain yourself. “But I was in my apartment and I started to smell whatever it is that you’re cooking and it just smells so good, and I tried to just make something else but it didn’t seem nearly as appetizing and I just-”

You let out a frustrated huff, holding out your plate in shameful defeat, “Can I just…Can I just have a little of whatever it is that you’re making? because now I’m craving it and I don’t think I will be able to stop thinking about it.”

The silence that follows your request makes you want to shrivel up in embarrassment, but it’s soon washed away as gentle laughter meets your ears. You watch as John has to almost physically support himself on the doorframe as he tries and fails to contain his laughter. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but before you can protest or bite back, he’s stepping back into his apartment, opening the door a bit wider. 

“Why don’t I do you one better and invite you in for dinner?” He says, eyes bright with amusement.

Pulling the plate back to your chest in a mock hug, suddenly unsure. “Are you sure?” You ask, voice small, “I don’t want to intrude.”

He shakes his head, reaching an arm out to guide you inside, “Nonsense, I made too much for one person anyways,” he says, closing the door behind you once you enter. 

“I hope you like Indian food,” he says, moving to slip past you towards the kitchen, “Does spicy food bother you?”

At the mention of Indian food, you can feel yourself practically drooling. You’ve had an affinity for spicy foods as of late, and curry has been your go to. 

“God no,” you practically groan, moving to follow him into the small apartment kitchen, “Spicy food is the one thing I can’t get enough of as of late.”

The kitchen in this apartment is identical to your own. It’s attached right to the living room, separated only by a half wall breakfast bar type set up, so you’re able to watch as John turns his back to you to tend to the food still on the stove. 

There’s a small empty space off to the side of the kitchen and living room - clearly meant to be a small dining area of sorts but John has turned it into a makeshift office. A small desk littered with papers and folders haphazardly stacked together and an open laptop, screensaver up on display. 

“Make yourself at home,” John calls over his shoulder, the soft clinking of dishes accompanying his words, “food’ll be done in a moment.”

Put slightly more at ease by his words, you finally set your plate down on the breakfast bar top, taking a moment to look around the space. 

The living room is sparsely decorated, clearly a man’s apartment - but it’s more than that. It’s utilitarian, almost…cold. You’ve started to notice that John is sometimes gone for long stints of time, maybe that’s why it’s so impersonal, he doesn’t spend much time here. Yet, despite the lack of decor or personal touches, you do notice small things that just scream John - at least from what you know of him. 

The fancy crystal ashtray on the coffee table, half smoked cigar sitting unlit in the well. The half empty glass of dark amber liquid sitting right next to it, condensation pooling on the coaster beneath it. There is a simple leather couch up against the back wall of the living room right across from an entertainment center and TV. Two small bookshelves bracket the entertainment center, and without thinking, your feet carry you over to them. 

They’re filled with books of all sorts - mostly nonfiction - but you catch some classics among the plethora of autobiographies and self-help books. Catcher in The Rye, The Nickel Boys, and Moby Dick, to name a few. But the one that draws your attention the most is one book sitting on the shelf closest to the door, lying face down as if he had been in the middle of reading when he was interrupted by something. 

The Hobbit. 

You smile, turning from the book as you turn to walk back towards his makeshift office space and thus, the kitchen. 

“Didn’t take you as a Tolkien fan, John.”

He turns to look at you as you come to the entrance to the kitchen, giving you a small smile, and a sheepish shrug before turning back to stir the pot.

“One of my coworkers recommended it to me,” he defends, before adding, “although I’ll admit it’s growing on me.”

As he was speaking you turned and took a few more steps into his office space, eyes drawn to the screensaver on the laptop. It’s four men in military gear, arms around each other’s shoulders, and it only takes you a moment to spot John among the bodies. He’s smiling wide in the photo, arm wrapping affectionately around the neck of a dark skinned man to his left, while his other arm is wrapped more casually around another man to his right. This man is also smiling wide, piercing blue eyes crinkled in delight as he seems to be laughing, the sides of his head are shaved and he has a short mohawk. Your eyes finally trail to the last member of the group, who’s one arm is around the man with the mohawk, while his other arm is rested casually atop the rifle hanging around him. But what stands out the most is the stark white skull mask on his face, hiding everything but his dark eyes. 

“You’re in the military?” You ask, moving to stand up straight once more, wincing at the slight twinge in your back as you do so. 

You hear John approach from behind you, footsteps muffled by the carpet as he comes to stand next to you. 

“That I am,” he says, and you don’t miss the way he tucks some papers beneath other folders. Not for your eyes apparently. 

You smile when you look at the picture, “You look happy here,” you say, pointing to the screen.

John nods beside you, smiling fondly again. “It was a good day,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders, “mission went well for once.”

He reaches out and points to the man on his left, “That’s Gaz,” he moves to the one to his right, “Soap,” he finally moves to the man with the skull mask, “and that’s Ghost.”

You hum, slightly confused by the names, but recalling a faint knowledge of military personnel getting nicknames sometimes. You choose not to question it, instead giving in to your teasing nature as you point to John in the picture. 

“You skipped over the handsome one,” you say, voice teasing. 

You watch in silent triumph as John clears his throat, and if it weren't for his beard, you’re sure you’d see red adorning his cheeks. He waves his hand at you, shaking his head as he chuckles. 

“Oh, come off it,” he chastises lightly, “Dinner’s ready.”

You turn and move towards the kitchen where John already has two plates of butter chicken and rice plated up and ready for you both. You move to help him but he brushes you off with a small ‘tsk’ sound before sliding past you and leading you back into the living room. 

“I hope you’re alright eating at the coffee table,” he says sheepishly, setting the plates down, “Never got around to getting a proper dining room table.”

You smile at him, trying to be reassuring as you take a seat on the couch, “perfectly fine with me. It’s where I eat most of my meals too.”

He seems to relax at that before disappearing back into the kitchen and returning shortly with two glasses of water, setting one in front of you and then his own plate before taking a seat next to you. You wait, not all that patiently for him to get comfortable before you finally dig into the food that started this whole silly debacle, and the moment you do, you can’t stop the groan that slips past your closed lips as you chew. 

It’s fucking amazing.

Better than the Indian restaurant you frequent, and much better than anything you’ve ever tried to cook. The seasoning is perfect, the curry is the right consistency too and it’s just-

“Holy shit, John,” you manage after swallowing another bite of food, taking a sip of your water as he laughs around his own bite. 

“I take it you approve then?” He asks, blue shimmering with amusement. 

You hum happily, taking another bite before replying. “More than approve, this is phenomenal, better than any indian take away I’ve had.”

He smiles at that, “I’ll take the compliment then.”

You nod, now trying to force yourself to slow down and savor the dish in front of you. “As you should.”

It’s quiet for a moment before John reaches for the remote laying on the table. “Fancy anything in particular?”

You think for a moment before shaking your head, “whatever you usually watch is fine.”

He nods, turning the TV on and switching to a streaming service before flicking through the various ‘recently watched’ shows. You can’t stop the way your brow raises when you see The Great British Baking Show among the list. 

“You watch baking shows?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. 

John chuckles, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “call it a guilty pleasure,” he jokes before clicking on the most recent episode. 

The rest of the meal passes in an air of comfort, the only sounds at first being the scrape of utensils against plates and the show playing on the TV. Neither of you really notice when you both finish eating and lean back into the couch, eyes glued to the screen and critiques falling from both your mouths. 

“She forgot the fucking eggs!” You cry at the TV, incredulous that one of the contestants forgot a key ingredient in their cake. 

John practically groans beside you, “it’s probably for the best,” he says, cringing slightly as it switches to another baker whose cake is crumbling apart as they try to decorate it. “She tried to pair pickles with a chocolate mousse last episode-”

“She what?” You look at him surprised for a moment before sinking back into the couch. “Wait…that actually might not be that bad-”

This gets another laugh out of the man beside you and you hear him mumble something about ‘weird pregnancy cravings’ before you both go back to watching the show. 

The evening passes much like this, both of you watching a few more episodes before your eyes fall to the clock on your phone, eyes widening at the time. 

“Oh my gosh it’s late,” you say, sitting up straighter, hand falling to your belly when the movement causes a twinge. 

You must make a face because, John is sitting up now too, eyes falling down to where your hand lays. “No need to rush,” he assures you, moving to stand and offer you his hand. “I’m not kicking you out.”

You smile up at him as you take his hand, fighting the heat that rushes to your cheeks, “Well you could have,” you say softly, “I definitely overstayed my welcome.”

The man before you just shakes his head, “none of that now,” he assures you, “If I’d wanted you gone, I would’ve said something. I..” He trails off, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “I liked having the company.”

Now you really blush, ducking your head as your hand rubs absentmindedly over your stomach. “I..I liked it too. Nice change of pace. Thank you for inviting me in,” you tug your lip between your teeth before continuing. “I know it was a weird request and you could have turned me away - should have probably but…Thank you.”

You look up then only to see John giving you that warm smile you’ve come to be familiar with, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Anytime,” he says softly, before he shifts, as if remembering something. “Almost forgot-”

He hurries back to the kitchen, pulling something from the fridge before returning to you. He holds out a Tupperware container, obviously filled with leftovers from dinner. 

“Saved some for you,” he says, urging the container into your hands when you don’t take it immediately.

“John I-” you shake your head, looking down at the container, “You already fed me, I don’t want to take your leftovers too-”

He waves his hand sharply, cutting you off. “I made plenty,” he promises, “I still have some. There was plenty left to give you.”

A small silence falls over you, gratitude and warmth filling your chest with a fuzziness you haven’t felt in a long time. Not since your last relationship, not since you got pregnant. It’s been too long since someone cared for you instead of the other way around, and the simple gesture makes your eyes burn with the threat of tears. 

Not now, pregnancy hormones!

You smile, clothing the container tightly to you before looking up at John again. He still has that soft look on his face, and before you can think better of it, you lean up on your tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you, John.”

And then you turn and exit his apartment before either of you can find time to feel embarrassed about your actions. 

But, you left so quickly you missed the blush on John’s cheeks, and the way he brought one hand up to touch the spot you kissed. 

Fuck.

He’s a goner. 

[paarthursass]

We know now that the man who turned Olrox into a vampire was a Spanish colonizer. We can use this to safely assume that Olrox likely wasn't on friendly terms with other (European) vampires who came over with the colonists. We also know that, even though some vampires have forgotten who Alucard is by the time Nocturne takes place, the ones accompanying Drolta and Erzsebet knew enough to react with visible fear when he introduced himself at the end of season 1.

There are sooo many ways the Olrox and Alucard backstory could go, but I do like the thought of Alucard stepping foot into the New World and Olrox immediately sensing a shift in the other vampires there. Seeing how on edge they are, hearing their whispers of the daywalker who hunts them. The half-breed, the vampire who's not a vampire.

How could he not be intrigued? He's wary, of course, as he's learned to be of these European vampires, and we also know he's felled his fair share of vampire hunters, but he's also opportunistic. Perhaps this Alucard could be an ally, but even if not, he's at the very least someone he needs to keep an eye on. The enemy of my enemy and all that.

And Alucard almost certainly hearing stories of Olrox, too. The vampire who took on the form of a Sun God. Countless vampire hunters fallen in the pursuit of him. But an enigmatic figure; not the typical conquering would-be master of the world that other vampires aspire to. Alucard knows better than most that vampires are capable of humanity, but he also knows better than to trust based purely on word of mouth.

The two finally meeting, wary apex predators sizing each other up for the first time. Not an obvious enemy like foes they've faced before, but not sure whether than can trust one another. But both living legends in their own right. And both outcasts, too; forced to be at a distance from humanity, but not quite fitting with other vampires either.

Did they circle each other warily at first? Always remaining aware of where the other was in vicinity to them, but not meeting, not risking an outright confrontation just yet. Seeing the marks of each other's work in the world around them; empty nests where vampires once were, opportunistic vampire hunters going missing in the night.

Did one of them eventually force first contact? Was it Olrox, attempting to put their first meeting on his terms? Or was it Alucard, deciding to finally assess whether Olrox was friend or foe? Or perhaps it was coincidental, a common enemy finally pushing them together and forcing that first meeting on equally unsteady territory?

What happened? What happened?

[miaoua3]

(pairing: jun x f!reader)

fuck studying, here comes some dry humping and making out with jun cuz i need that man like i need oxygen

you weren’t sure how you two got to this point but you certainly aren’t complaining. what was supposed to be a relaxing movie night soon turned out to be a hasty and hungry make out session with jun.

no less than 20 minutes after starting the movie had jun lightly kissed your forehead affectionately. he was just sitting there on his couch, with one arm wrapped around your shoulders and with the other across your legs that were resting on his lap.

he started out slow and innocently enough, landing a sweet kiss to your forehead. then a sweet kiss to your temple. and then an intimate kiss to your cheek. and then not so sweet to your jaw.

you leaned your head back to look at him, forgetting entirely about the movie playing on the screen. jun looked right back at you, eyes kind of hazy and lustfull. the eye contact went for a few seconds.

and then he was kissing you.

the kissing started out slow and intimate, his lips sucking on your bottom lip lightly.

but then he used his hand to angle your head better, his tongue invading your mouth fully.

next thing you know, jun is using his hold on your thighs to manoeuvre you onto his lap, pulling you against him. his hands had mind of their own, going from caressing your back to squeezing your ass harshly, making you gasp and moan in his mouth.

he couldn’t stop groaning, the hold you had on his hair making him go crazy, forgetting everything about what it is like to have shame.

as he was repeatedly grabbing your ass, you started unconsciously rocking back and forth into his hands, which jun appreciated very much so, groaning and moaning every time your clothed pussy rubbed across his hard on.

the tv is now just a distant sound in the background, your mind only focusing on rolling your hips and jun’s hand on your ass, squeezing and releasing it periodically.

jun doesn’t let you be the only one putting in the effort, rolling his own hips upwards, wishing that the layers between you two would disappear but also kind of enjoying the torture.

your hands grab onto his cheeks, nails lightly scratching his flawless skin as you gasp, feeling your end near. realising this, you just start rolling your hips faster, throwing head back as you moan loudly.

jun himself isn’t too far behind, using his hold on your ass to set the rhythm that he wants, gasping as he feel himself right on the brink of cumming.

jun only has time to gasp “i’m cumming” against your mouth before he feel himself finish, creaming his pants while his head is thrown back, pretty moans leaving his mouth.

you yourself cry out as the orgasm hits you like a strong wave, jun’s hold on your the only thing keeping you from falling backwards. seeing that you’re overcome with your pleasure and that you could hurt yourself if you lean too far back, jun just pulls you into himself, hugging you closely as he nuzzles into your neck.

you breathe heavily against his ear, completely spent and relaxed from this little escapade. after a minute or so, you pull back to look at jun.

his big brown eyes greet you, looking at you as if you were all the stars and the planets in his universe. completely speechless that you are really his, jun just pulls you into a kiss.

he continues kissing you, now fully intending for it to stay innocent and romantic. pushing the thought about how uncomfortable his wer pants feel, jun fully focuses on the taste of your sweet lips.

after a minute or so, he lets your lips part ways naturally, his chocolate eyes greeting you yet again. pushing hair put of your face, he continues looking at you adoringly, affection and love pouring out of his eyes.

you yourself not being able to hold your affection back just lean back in, kissing him again like it’s your first time ever.

because kissing jun always feels like that-new, exciting and full of love.

[mulloey]

unwelcome • pt 2

read part one here

stepdad!mingyu x fem!reader

words: 3.8k

warnings: this is pretty fucked up. stepfather relationship, infidelity, mingyu n u are not good people rly, brat/brat tamer dynamics, mean hard dom!mingyu, daddy kink, dirty talk, punishment, pussy slapping, gyu refers to you as ‘daughter’ and himself as ‘father’ in a sexual context a couple times, not really dubcon but there’s certainly a power imbalance, breeding, pregnancy mention, heavy degradation, choking etc. this is pretty intense.

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content of this fic and are solely responsible for what you consume. don’t like, don’t read. hate is blocked.

-

it’s been a week since the incident in the kitchen— since mingyu had finally snapped, since you felt his firm hands and long fingers restraining and touching you as he pleased. since the event that you thought would have changed everything with your stepfather. except it hasn’t.

mingyu has said nothing about what transpired that day, and neither have you. you tried to, once, but a hand around your neck and whispered warning that “that wasn’t what you thought it was” had shut you down quickly. he’s still strict, but it’s from a distance now— he doesn’t scold or reprimand you, but nor does he praise or really interact with you in any way. you never thought you would, but you miss it. you miss him.

your mother is gone, again. she seems to have picked up on the energy shift in the house over the past week and, like you, doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. so she’s chosen to stay away, assuming that whatever’s going on will resolve itself as it always does. you had hoped it would too— except mingyu won’t let you get near him.

today you’ve been mulling it over; holed up in your room with your blanket around your shoulders. you’d gone down earlier to grab a piece of toast; you’d felt your stepfather’s eyes on you the whole time you were in the kitchen, but you paid him no mind, grabbing your toast and quickly retreating back upstairs without a word. you wish you hadn’t heard his sigh of relief when you walked away.

you can’t live like this anymore, you know that. whatever thick, immobilizing tension is separating you two, pulling at one and pushing at the other, needs to break. and you will break it, even if just to have back the annoying, obnoxious man you used to hate. it’s better than… whatever this is.

you discuss it at length with your best friend, pearl, over drinks at your favourite bar downtown. she’s the only one you could turn to with something like this— the only one you can trust not to judge you. not that you don’t deserve to be judged; you’ve done an awful thing, after all. you’ve allowed your mother’s husband to touch and finger you. you’ve not just helped him to betray your mother, but you’ve betrayed her yourself.

you’re past that now, though. you’ll make it up to her later. and if mingyu’s willing to do that to his own step daughter then clearly he’s not the right man for your mom anyway. it doesn’t make you feel a whole lot better.

but pearl doesn’t judge you; she never does. you’ve known each other since you were babies, for one, but more importantly, she has (to your annoyance), been saying from the start how utterly delectable your new stepfather is. if anything, she’s probably annoyed she didn’t get to fuck him first.

she listens silently and thoughtfully as you run her through the events of last week, tapping her manicured nails against the wood of the table. by the time you finish, a sly, knowing smile has reached her face.

“isn’t it obvious?” she asks.

you hesitate, confused. “isn’t what obvious?”

“what you need to do,” she says. “to fix this.”

“not to me,” you say. “i mean, i need to fuck him, i think. but i can’t do that when he barely even talks to me now.”

she shrugs, twirling the little cocktail umbrella between her fingers. “so make him jealous.”

“what?”

“piss him off, y/n,” she says. “bring someone home and let him see that you’re moving on. i guarantee you he won’t like it.”

you slump back in your seat, thinking for a moment. it’s a good plan— if it goes right. if it goes wrong, well… you doubt anything could be worse than this. “okay,” you say. “i’ll do that.”

it takes two more days to find the nerve to bring home a boy from your campus. you were careful to choose someone you wouldn’t have to interact with after today if it all went catastrophically wrong, which means the TA in your thesis group who makes eyes at you from across the room is off the table (sorry, wonwoo), but who you’ve seen and interacted with enough that it won’t seem weird when you invite them home with you.

you have no real intentions with joshua, but he’s nice enough, around your age and very horny, so you figure he’ll do fine; indeed, he can barely keep his hands off you as you walk into the house and accidentally-on-purpose make your presence known with a loud laugh. his wandering hands only leave you when your stepfather rounds the corner into the lobby.

he’s dressed in his pyjamas still, and he looks tired and irritated until he spots the boy next to you— and the non-existent, certainly non-platonic gap between you. in an instant he’s awake and the irritation is gone, replaced with anger. his palms twitch at his side, desperate to break the calm demeanor that he’s hanging onto by a thread. little slut.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. he tries to keep his voice cool and leveled but the resulting sound is low and dangerous, like a predator about to strike.

joshua swallows and you feel him tensing up nervously beside you. whether it’s to calm him down or to provoke mingyu further, you're not sure, but you grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. joshua relaxes slightly, and mingyu’s eyes narrow.

“hi,” joshua finally says. “i’m jo–”

“i don’t give a rat's ass who you are,” mingyu says sharply. “tell me what you’re doing here and what your hands are doing on my daughter, now.”

joshua’s eyes widen and he seems to shrink further into himself, wishing he was anywhere else. “look, man,” he says, “i don’t want any trouble. we were just gonna hang out.”

“yeah?” mingyu asks. “not anymore. plans changed, i’m afraid. we’re busy this evening.”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “busy with what?”

mingyu says nothing, just raises a cool eyebrow at you with a blank expression. you feel joshua’s gaze flicker between the two of you in confusion and discomfort.

clearly, he wants nothing to do with this. you don’t blame him; and he’s served his purpose anyway. you’ll make it up to him another day. buy him a coffee or something. doesn’t really matter right now.

“i’m just gonna go,” he mutters. he catches your eye as he walks past, face contorted half in sympathy and half in fear— fear for you, it seems. if only he knew that you’re halfway to getting exactly what you wanted.

“see you around, josh,” you say, but your eyes are already locked with your stepfather.

the door slams shut and he’s on you instantly, hand on your neck as you’re shoved harshly against the wall. the impact is so sharp and sudden that it sends the small painting hung up next to you crashing down, but neither of you notice; not when you’re looking at him with such lust and he’s looking at you with such ire. you could cut the tension between you with a knife, but even then, you’re not sure if it would break. the tiny gap between his face and yours and the heavy breathing as he looks you up and down is electrifying like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“min—”

“shut up,” he says. “i’ve had it with you.” his voice is almost shaking with rage and he stares at you for a moment before his large hand impacts the side of your face. you shriek in pain and surprise, reaching to clutch your stinging cheek but he grabs your wrist with the hand that had just slapped you, holding it firmly above your head.

“fucking slut,” he says. “parading your little boy toy through my house as if i wouldn’t know what you’re doing. debasing yourself like a cheap whore. is that what you thought i wanted?”

your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. you both know the answer but you don’t want to say it. he shakes his head, chuckling dryly.

“no, it’s not,” he says. “because you never cared or even thought about what i might want. only ever thought about yourself, didn’t you?”

you feel yourself shrink under his gaze and the venom of his words and he smiles briefly. his eyes roam your body, lingering on your chest that rises and falls with your heavy, panicked breathing. fuck, he’s practically drunk on the power he has over you right now.

his grip on your neck tightens momentarily— just enough to remind you of how small and breakable you are under his grip. “too fucking cock drunk to think about anything else,” he says lowly. “fuck. i should‘ve made your friend stay so i could fuck you in front of him, shouldn’t i? teach you both a lesson.”

his words hit you in the stomach, knots of arousal twisting in your gut. you know he sees the way your thighs clench together at the image. “i…” you trail off; you have nothing to say. he knows it too. he lifts his hand from your neck to stroke your cheek with a surprising tenderness.

“pretty thing,” he mutters. “my little girl.” he’s silent for a moment, eyes raking over your face, so small and fragile in his strong hands. his grip tightens, squeezing your jaw. “apologise,” he says.

you frown, confused. “for what?”

he snorts like it’s obvious. “provoking me, for one,” he says. “using that poor boy to get a rise out of me. and being a rude, bratty little girl simply because i wasn’t giving you enough attention.”

you roll your eyes before you can think it through and he’s quick to react, his hand slapping you again before returning to your neck. “no respect,” he mutters. “you obviously need an attitude adjustment. and that’s exactly what daddy’s gonna give you.”

you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the name he’s given himself, but it’s no use. your stepfather is far too tuned in, far too in control, to let anything slip past him. his lips curl into a thin, sneering smile. “liked that, did you?” he asks. “you like being fucked by your fucking father?”

“mingyu,” you whine. your face burns at the humiliation of not just his words, but the truth of them— mingyu is your stepfather. he’s married to your mother. and you’d do anything to have your hands on his dick right now.

“no,” he says. “you don’t get to call me that. if you could act like a mature fucking adult then maybe i’d let you but you can’t, can you? you’ve been a little fucking brat since i met you and it’s about time i treated you like one.”

there’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen since that day in the kitchen, only now it burns both brighter and darker than before. as he finally releases his grip of you against the wall, only to drag you by the hair through to the living room, you get the feeling you’re about to see mingyu in a way even the episode in the kitchen couldn’t have clued you into.

he shoves you down, watching you stumble to the floor with a surprised shriek. you sit yourself up, leaning on your hands as you stare up at him where he towers above you— tall, imposing, and terrifying.

he’s silent, watching you closely before he sighs and walks over to sit himself down on the couch. “come here.”

your legs are shaking as you struggle to pull yourself up from the floor. his jaw twitches, fists clenching. you’ve never looked so pathetic, never felt so humiliated and you still have all your clothes on. he reaches out to pull you towards him and you stumble forwards until you land on his lap— over his lap. you feel your short skirt flip up over your ass from the sudden motion, exposing your black lace panties. he chuckles, grabbing one of your ass cheeks and squeezing it firmly. your breath hitches.

“mm,” hums appreciatively. “this is how i like to see you, daughter mine. bent over and ready to submit.”

you squirm, thighs clenching at the low timbre of his voice; the deepening of it as he calls you his daughter. jesus. this is so fucked up.

his finger trails the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your pussy. he fingers at the hem of your panties, right next to your pussy, watching the way you react to his touch as he teases the edge of your underwear like he’s inspecting it. he sees the wetness seeping through the black fabric and chuckles. “that desperate, baby?” he asks.

you say nothing, still processing the situation you find yourself in and he slaps your ass harshly, making you jolt. “answer,” he says darkly. “or i’ll just spank you and send you to bed without release. is that what you want, little girl?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head fervently. you won’t deny it; the idea of being spanked by mingyu, not for sex, not for foreplay, but solely for punishment, is embarrassingly tantalising. but you’ve been waiting too long to have him touch you like this again and if you don’t get to feel his dick inside you tonight you might actually go insane. “no, i don’t,” you say.

he laughs, pinching the sensitive skin of your thigh and rubbing the red mark soothingly. “look at you,” he chuckles. “so bratty and disrespectful but so quick to submit once i use a bit of force. can’t believe i wasted my time on your mother when i had this little kitten here waiting for me.”

his words are like cold water as they wash over you— your mother. this isn’t just your stepfather— this is your mother’s husband. this is the man she loves and relies on, who swore to be hers for the rest of his life. and you’re bent over his lap and trying desperately not to grind against his thick, strong thigh. you’re the worst daughter ever.

and if you weren’t before, you certainly are when you mewl out a desperate, “please, daddy, fuck me.”

“hm,” he says. “such good manners, i’m almost tempted.” his finger trails along your panties before finally sliding over your covered pussy. you gasp, squirming again when he ghosts over your clit. he presses down a little, enough to make you pulse slightly, then lets go. “what a shame you had to be such a brat.”

you make a noise of confusion, craning your head around to see mingyu sliding your panties down to your ankles, exposing you fully to him with your skirt by now halfway up your back. you catch his gaze and he raises an eyebrow. “turn around,” he says. “i’m gonna teach you how to fucking act around me.”

swallowing, you obey, turning around to bury your head in the pillows of the couch. you feel him raise the thigh you’re bent over, giving him easier access. you close your eyes, bracing for the first hit against your ass. you’re ready for it, you think— what you’re not ready for, is for him to suddenly tilt you forwards and start slapping your pussy instead.

the first strike makes you shriek and he gives you no time to recover before continuing. your pussy is far more sensitive than your ass, not to mention dripping, but he hits you with the same brute strength he’d used on your ass and face. the pain is white hot and searing and you hear the impact of each slap; and the wet, squelching sound of his hand against fluid gushing from you. strings of cream are connecting to his hand, following it each time he pulls away to wind up for another hit. you feel him hardening beneath you and adjust yourself a little without realising, trying to grind against his cock subconsciously. he grabs your waist to tug you back into place and delivers an extra hard swat right on your clit.

it’s so painful and so arousing that you don’t even notice when it’s over. not until he’s pulled you off his lap and pressed his leaking cock against his entrance do you finally realise what’s happening. he’s going to fuck you. finally.

he leans over where you’ve found yourself on all fours on the couch, lips pressing against your ear. “ask me to fuck you, baby,” he whispers. you gasp as he rubs himself against you and he chuckles. “c’mon, filthy girl. ask me nicely.”

“p-please,” you stutter. all your nerves are on fire and pushing against your skin, senses heightened as he slowly starts to push into you. “more,” he groans.

“daddy,” you gasp. his hands are on your waist as he guides himself into you, moaning at the way you sob his name. “fuck,” he grunts.

when he finally gets in all the way it’s overwhelming; mingyu is huge, beyond huge, and you’ve never been this full before. you feel him pressing against your cervix even without moving yet there’s none of the pain or discomfort that someone of his size would usually bring. it feels right. like you were made to take him and he was made to take you.

he starts moving without a word; slow thrusts that get faster and harder until he’s completely pounding you, fucking into you desperately like a wild animal. he sounds like one, too; you both do, yelling and grunting as you pushing yourselves deeper into the other. his grip on your waist is bruising but comfortable and you sink into it, lost in pleasure.

you chant his name on repeat — “daddy, daddy, daddy” — the only word that comes to you as he fucks you open. he leans over you, pressing his face into the back of your neck and kissing down the top of your back before straightening up again, angling himself to go deeper.

“you love this, don’t you?” he spits. “love being whored out by your stepfather. is that why you moved back home? to make yourself available to me?”

you groan at his words, clenching around him. you both know that’s not true, but it may as well be— you certainly won’t be moving back out again anytime soon now. you want to stay with him, be available for him— a waiting hole for him to use. fuck, you're depraved, but so is he; he groans when you say it out loud, thrusting harder. “that’s right,” he grunts. “just a hole f’me. just a fuck toy for your daddy, yeah?”

you choke, crying out when he slams into you again. you reach your arms back, trying to touch him and he grabs them, folding them against your back and holding you down.

“i knew it,” he laughs. “knew from the moment i met you that you just needed some dick. knew it had to be mine, fuck.”

“yes,” you gasp. “yours, yours, gyu, has to be yours.” you’re babbling and delirious now and he’s fucking high on it. he presses more of his weight onto you, trapping you beneath him— as if you’d ever want to get away.

“good girl,” he whispers. “i’m gonna fuck you every fucking day. every time that bitch leaves the house you’re gonna come and fucking present yourself to me, understand? gonna come offer up your holes to daddy.”

“yes,” you whine. “always, daddy.”

“i’m never fucking your mother again,” he says. “i’ve got this perfect little pussy now instead and it’s all mine.”

by now the sensations of his dick slamming into you have become a constant rhythm, allowing you to cling to it as you go dumber and dumber on his cock. you could stay like this forever; split open and abused while he spits filth into your ear; but you can tell from the clenching of your pussy and the throbbing of his cock that you’re both close to the edge. he grunts, grabbing your hair to pull your head backwards and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “good girl,” he says, movements speeding up. “i’m gonna cum in you. gonna put a fucking kid in you. you want that?”

you know mingyu knows you’re on birth control; he’s seen the pills you keep in the medicine cabinet and heard you discuss your prescription with your mother. but fuck, the idea of him getting you pregnant, your own stepfather knocking you up, is so twisted and exhilarating that it propels you towards your orgasm. you feel yourself releasing over his dick, drenching the couch and he makes a noise of delight. “didn’t know you squirted, baby,” he moans. “that’s so fucking perfect, god.”

“daddy,” you moan. “mingyu.” you’ve gone limp on his dick now, fucked out and exhausted but you’re smart enough to recognise that this stops when he’s finished. he’s almost there, though, you can tell; his grip on your tightens, moans getting louder until he spits out a “clench, slut,” and releases into you the moment you obey.

he collapses on top of you once he’s done, face pressed into your back. you’re both filthy; covered in sweat and cum and drool but you don’t care. you’ve never felt so satisfied in your fucking life.

mingyu pulls you into his arms and you relax into his hold, breathing deeply against his chest. it’s perfect peace, utter bliss— while it lasts. minutes later he jumps up, looking panicked.

you stare up at him in confusion. “mingyu?”

“your mother’s coming back,” he says. your stomach drops. “in 30 fucking minutes.”

panic takes over and you force yourself to your feet; it’s dizzying and disorients you for a moment, but mingyu is quick to catch you when you stumble, helping you steady yourself before he releases you. mercifully, most of the mess is on the two of you; the couch is pretty much clean. mingyu orders you into the shower and you obey, scrubbing away all the evidence of what you’ve just done. you hear him run past your room a few minutes later, and when you emerge, you’re both clean and in your pyjama. only the way he looks at you as you walk downstairs together gives away what’s happened.

your mother looks tired when she walks through the door, but smiles sweetly when she spots her husband and daughter waiting in the kitchen for her. she plants a long, wet kiss on mingyu’s lips and you feel your stomach twist in envy. looking away, you turn back to see his eyes on you, dark and scrutinising as your mother sits down at the table.

“how are my loves?” she asks. you smile weakly at her, wracked with guilt but at the same time wishing she would just get the fuck out so you can fuck her husband again.

mingyu puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it fondly, but his eyes never leave you as he speaks.

“we’re perfect.”

-

requests open! feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[five-one-two-station]

@halfalive-chaos - Context

Oh BOY do I have some big giant feelings about this!

The short answer is yes, I think people/The Audience has forgotten this - but I also don't think it's entirely their fault.

Part of the reason I was really impressed by how Arcane used and executed the scene, and why I keep going on about it, is that this whole subject is kind of an ongoing concern of mine.

I very sincerely think that the documented decline of, not just sex, but horniness, in media has narrowed the spectrum of contexts we're used to seeing sex and sexuality happen in our storytelling, in ways that are doing us harm.

Because mainstream media has started shying away from engaging with sex to the degree that it has, sex is now almost invariably depicted in extremes - either "Aren't we edgy big boys now?" stuff like The Boys, or miserably sad traumatic drama grist - or else not at all.

And because "regular" tv has been scared off showing sex, it's vanishingly rare to see characters who are in love have sex, or to be sexual as an expression of that, certainly without some negative element to it.

That means we're almost never asked to think of it in terms of sincere, meaningful character communication, or as a storytelling mechanism, or ever presented with it in the context of a positive wider relationship.

I think the hazard of this is obvious - if our media and storytelling doesn't engage with healthy sex in that wider context, or use it purposefully, then we're conceding the whole conversation around it to porn, to novelty edgelordism, and grimdark miseryfests. Those things will define all our language and imagery around it, and the only time we'll ever see it will be upsetting, harmful or ugly. When it is easier to stumble across a scene of rape than it is to see a consenting woman orgasm, it's little wonder people can become reflexively suspicious of any sexuality at all.

But even when it's not so extreme as that, more often than not it's depicted as a casual fling instead, divorced from a bigger picture, or a distraction, an alternative to a grander and truer romantic interest. There's nothing at all wrong with sex for pleasure, don't misunderstand me, but it's odd that our media landscape has engineered a situation where depictions of sex in the context of a bigger love story almost never happen. It would seem then that we can have one or the other - sex or romance - but never at once.

And we're diminishing it with all of this. We're saying this incredibly important, intense, uniquely vulnerable and intimate feature of the human experience doesn't matter enough to talk about. We're saying that sex and love don't have any functional overlap. Even at best, we're pretending that sex isn't important in relationships, or increasingly, that the only good sex is... well... sexless. Sterile. Permissable and virtuous only when it's so "clean" and so perfect in circumstance that it becomes an unattainably impossible kind of ceremony.

The venue must be perfect. The characters must be not only unimpeachable, but historically and permanently so, and exactly as faultless as each other - they must be exactly the same social status, age, background, emotional state and situation. There can be no power imbalance or even a risked perception of one. No chequered history to leave behind, no overcome adversities, nothing that had to be learned. No transgressions to have been worked through, and comprehensively put to rest now.

Indeed, the moment must be so sublimely judged that it's unlikely to ever actually arise in a drama to start with; the characters must be in such a stable situation that there's no actual storytelling to be done here to warrant the scene occurring in the first place.

Which is convenient, because in this framework, the only unproblematic sex is the sex nobody can possibly have anyway. Because nobody can have "perfect" sex. That's not how it works - the fundamental nature of intimacy is taking each other for what you actually are, in all of the reality involved. If it can't be messy, it's not true.

All of this comes with extra points and splinters too when it comes to the matter of lesbian sex in particular, and the complicated history of how we've been either exploited for disposable male titilation, or else rendered chastely invisible by well intended feminists of all persuasions. We were already being presented with a sex or romance dichotomy, and never mind if either one worked.

It's a dysfunctional either/or. Asexuals & friends notwithstanding, physical intimacy is an incredibly important feature of the lives we spend together, and the bodies we live our lives in. And as much as we'd like to think we're all too cool and aloof for it, for most of us lust is impossible to entirely detach from sentiment, when it comes to the real people we form bonds with.

People falling in love want to fuck each other. People who are in love want to fuck each other. People fall in love in the process of fucking each other. It's not some abstract thing that happens in isolation to our feelings for each other.

I don't think it's good for us to perform such weird acrobatics to pretend none of this is true, whatever the reason for doing so; but that is effectively what modern media does.

And I think we're all poorer for it. We're poorer for missing out on the most private, intimately human kinds of moments in our stories that live in the space where love and lust can intersect. Because that's the only place those moments happen.

[justafanwarrior]

He had looked away just a few seconds to make sure the men trying to rob them were unconscious and not dead (he still had such a hard time gauging how much strength to use when fighting humans) and that was all it took for Dani to vanish.

Danny cursed under his breath and tried to focus on the feel of her ectoplasm. Lunch Lady told him, during one of the ghost parenting lessons he took from her, that Ghosts were instinctively attuned to the ecto of their Fraid, moreso their children so he should be able to find her quickly.

The second he caught the feeling of it Danny was running, not caring much if he was being faster than a human should. They were in Gotham, Dani could certainly take care of herself but like hell he was letting his daughter in any kind of danger if he could help it.

Despite the memories that Vlad gave her she was only 2 years old and looked like she was 6, thankfully she hadn't been de-aged all the way given that he had managed to stabilize her before that, still he better get to his daughter before some fruitloop or criminal could set their sight on her.

Danny sucked in a (useless) breath as he skid to a halt in front an apartment building, looking around before phasing inside. There wasn't an elevator but it didn't matter since it would be faster to climb the stairs to guess which floor his little hellion was on.

When he reached the right apartment Danny didn't even bother knocking, what if they had kidnapped her? He wouldn't risk warning them he was there. He phased, invisible, inside an took a second to understand the situation.

There was a man sitting on the couch staring in disbelief at Dani while she munched on some cookies.

'Oh she found the other parent. Guess she would have a bond with him but I wouldn't, makes sense.'

I got another dcxdp prompt for yall.

Instead of Dani being the clone or the long lost son of someone, what if Ellie wasn't just Vlad and Danny.

What if she was Vlad, Danny, and the dead Robin. Vlad stole his DNA after coming across him while he was on a rampage and thought his strength would be great for his creation.

But Danny finds out that's why Ellie is so unstable, it's because she was made with majorly corrupted ectoplasm and it clashed with Danny's ectoplasm. Danny was able to purify her ectoplasm and decided to help Jason.

---

Jason was in the middle of doing some work when a little girl popped out of no where.

The child: Hi!

Jason: What the-

The child: Bad word!

Jason: Duck. What the duck.

The child: Safe.

Jason: Hey kid, how did you get in here?

The child: Through the door. :)

Jason, thinking one of his goons lost their kid: sigh, which one of the people downstairs is your parent?

The child: None, you are! :)

Jason, shocked: What.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Oh well, since you encouraged me... Something that's been on a mind since I've read your older brother!Dick I just keep thinking of the incest potencial... Even with the more than controversial ages

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! 18+ THEMES, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, GN reader, fauxcest, age gap, toxic dynamic, noncon, making out, disgusting touching, brief hints of sexual content, general yandere fuckery, manipulation, kind of grooming(?), controlling behaviors, poor reader trying to cope so hard.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA—

Don’t worry, pooks, I saw all of your other asks about this idea and I’ll try to remember to hit all of the points you bring up. I just wanna keep it all in one place.

ALSO, ALSO, ALSO, LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER ENJOYERS. HEY. HEY. LISTEN. If you’re not fucking with this ask and you don’t want the wholesome platonic dynamic you conjured in your brain ruined for you, DO NOT PROCEED ANY FURTHER. LIKE, AT ALL. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You literally clocked me so badddd. Yes, the undertones in that series are 100% intended. I’m not gonna add anything overtly incestuous, but like… the subtext is there for the freaks to pick up on. Platonic incest where the lines blur every now and then, I love you so much.

Anyways, lemme get to yapping for real.

If we’re going to vaguely follow the Life With Older Brother series, Dick suddenly being so friendly to you would be… a little bit jarring. But try to think about it from his perfective: he wasn’t really there for Jason, and the thought of failing another younger sibling is too much to handle. Maybe he’s just trying to be more present for you. As weird as he may come off, you should at least give him a chance.

The beginning isn’t all that bad. Even if he’s relatively new to the older brother thing, you can tell he’s trying his best, and dare you say it, he’s actually fun to hang out with. Playing video games, going out for ice cream, trashy movie marathons… it almost makes you forget about those weirder behaviors. Almost.

Now, one thing you quickly noticed is how touchy-feely he is. Whenever you’re together, it seems like he’s always got sort of body part touching you one way or another. Sometimes, it’s subtle: a knee resting against yours, a very quick head-pat, his hand brushing against you as he gestures at something. Nothing all that noticeable unless if you’re very sensitive to touch. But then there are times where it’s a little more… overt. Like when he slings an arm around your shoulders. Or when he holds your hand while out and about. Or when pulls you against his side by your waste when it’s a crowded area. Every now and then, you find yourself wondering if this is normal. Do siblings usually touch each other so often? It kind of makes sense, but… considering you haven’t even been siblings for a full year, should he really be this comfortable around you yet?

If you think you can set boundaries with him, good fucking luck. He might’ve made it seem like he was hearing you out, but it won’t be long before he’s back at it with the touching. Okay… maybe this is something he really can’t help. As annoying — and weird… and uncomfortable — it may be, you’ll probably just have to suck it up and get used to it. Some people are just very handsy. But not like that! Oh my god, no. Dick’s Nightwing; a good guy, for Christ’s sake. He would never do anything like that!

(… Right?)

Here’s the thing about platonic physical affection: how weird can it get before people finally draw the line? Is it forehead kisses? Hugging someone by the waist? Having them sit in your lap whenever the opportunity arises? Are any of those things actually weird, or does Dick somehow make them weird? Because, yes, he still most definitely acts like an older brother — he certainly teases you like one, and you constantly have to fight against the urge to bite him like a feral weasel — but the touching… well… maybe familial affection is just a concept foreign to you (thanks in no small part to Bruce), but Dick somehow makes it feel like something else.

And you’ll admit; you don’t actually know what that something else is. All you know is that you’re pretty sure big brothers do not do that gentle, extremely intimate thumb-stroke thing to their little sibling’s face before a forehead kiss. And they also do not come up from behind their little sibling for a hug.

And the lap thing?

That was probably the turning point.

Because what older brother has their little sibling sit on their lap while watching TV? One hand on your hip, the other on your thigh… he’s doing that weirdly intimate thumb stroke thing on your bare skin, and all you can do is sit there and think, oh… I don’t like this. If you’re brave enough to ask him what he’s doing, he’ll play dumb. Hm? What do you mean, kiddo? He’s not doing anything… what are you talking about?

Before you can even begin to express how uncomfortable you are, however, his fingers start toying with the hem of your shit. You’re acutely aware of his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your torso, sending an uneasy shiver up your spine. Dick’s no stranger to touching your waist area, and while you still don’t really like it that much, you’ve gotten used to it. But this? Something about the actual skin on skin contact makes you freeze up entirely.

“You know,” Dick would thoughtfully begin, “I’m probably the luckiest big brother in the world. I don’t think you realize just how cute you are, (Y/N).”

His hand then inches its way up your shit.

BadbadbadbadbadbaDBADBADBADBAD—

Don’t bother fighting back. Don’t bother yelling at him. Don’t even bother squirming as he gently begins to run circles into the skin under your shirt. His grip on your thigh is like iron, holding you down to his lap and making any struggle futile. In fact, if I were to venture a guess, you’d probably be too petrified to even move, the shock of the moment rendering you completely immobile. This was supposed to be your big brother; yes, he’s a bit weird and overprotective, but he’s still your fucking big brother. And while your knowledge on big brothers may be extremely limited, you know for a fact that this is crossing a line.

Your faces become closer and closer until his breath is ghosting against your lips. “I love you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

You don’t dare to offer him a response. Hell, you don’t even know what you could say to that. The only thing filling your brain is the brazen warning bells screaming for you to get the fuck away from him. Except you can’t. For whatever reason, your body’s frozen in place, limbs weighing you down like heavy ice blocks.

You can’t move.

You can’t fucking move.

And, of course… he takes advantage of that.

By the time his lips softly plant themselves on yours, it’s too late. The lines between platonic and whatever the fuck this is have long been crossed, and you can never go back to pretending like everything is normal between you two. All of the subtle warning signs you opted to ignore were now blaring in your mind like loud sirens, almost mocking the fact that you didn’t fucking trust yourself.

This can’t be happening. This absolutely can’t be happening. You thought of this creep as your big brother; was this really the same guy that helped you with homework and let you play games on his laptop? Was this really the same guy under the Nightwing mask?

While the kiss evolves into something a little more passionate, he doesn’t take it too far. Just a gentle make-out session with roaming hands. He ends it by holding you against his chest, seemingly content with just occasionally peppering kisses to your face for the next hour or so. Neither of you say anything during this time. Even if you want to yell at him and demand why the fuck he did that, you’re too shocked to even form a coherent thought.

The man you thought could be your big brother is a massive fucking creep.

You think you’re going to be sick.

He doesn’t go out for patrol that night. Instead, he simply picks you up and carries you to his room, dressing you in his clothes for bed. You’re still trying to process the humiliation of letting this all happen as he slips you under the sheets with him and cuddles up to you. Sleep doesn’t come easy to you that night. How the fuck could it? Not only do you have that stupid fucking kiss haunting you, but now you have this sicko’s hand playing with the waistband of your shorts (his shorts), and god. You’re not sure how you didn’t throw up then and there.

So. What happens afterwards? Well, first off, no more phone. Dick’s not an idiot; he knows the lines he crossed that evening and would rather you not call Bruce or Alfred or the police. You’re also not allowed on his laptop unless if he’s supervising you, and your ass is not going outside anytime soon. Then we have the gross shit… yeah, now that he’s had a taste, he’s gonna be all over you. It won’t go that far just yet — he’d rather ease you into that territory, much like what he’s been doing before — but it can get a bit steamy. At least for him. You might still be grossed out over all this or whatever.

You know what the worst part is? He still has the audacity to act like your older brother. It doesn’t matter how many times he touches you or forces you to kiss him: he’ll call you kiddo through it all and offer to play some video games afterwards. In fact, are times where you both return to your previous sibling banter and you can almost convince yourself that things are totally fine. There you go again, falling for his meticulously set up trap.

This new dynamic might take some time to get used to, but Dick will try his damned hardest to make it seem natural. So what if Big Brother sometimes wants to pin his cute little sibling against the counter and leave love bites on their neck? Sometimes, it just has to happen. No harm, no foul. This could be normal if you stopped being so weird about it, you know.

And, you know what… you may find yourself finally accepting that this is your new normal. What else are you supposed to do? You can’t call anyone, you can’t run away, you can’t even fight back because he was trained by fucking Batman… you sure as hell don’t have to like it, but maybe you can make peace with it. This is nothing more than an annoyance from your big brother. That’s all. It’s not him grooming you. It’s not him taking advantage of you. It’s just him being a little irritating at times. Ignore the urge to throw up… ignore how your skin crawls whenever he’s near you… every sibling has their flaw, and being a total creep is Dick’s.

You’d probably begin to despise Bruce a little, too. Did he know how fucked up his former ward is? Or is the exact same way? Guess you’ll never know, because the man can’t even bother to check up on you. He essentially took you out of the system and threw you into the den of a wolf, subjecting you to a new personal hell you can’t even escape from. And Alfred… you thought he actually cared. Is he not concerned about the sudden radio silence on your end?

You really can’t help but wonder if anyone even thinks about you outside of the apartment, and with Dick being in control of what information he feeds to Bruce over the phone, all you can do is guess at this point. In the meantime, Big Brother just came back and needs a hug… why don’t you come on over to the couch, kiddo?

Ugh. There are so many fucking directions I can go in from here. You mentioned Bruce (or eventually Tim) becoming suspicious and finding out what’s going on, and GRRRRR. SO GOOD. SO FUCKING GOOD. I need to write a blurb about this. It’s so addicting. I just had to get some of the base ideas on this out because this concept has been marinating in my brain for way too long. I’m not kidding, I was going to actually explode if I didn’t get to talk about this. I NEED MORE OF THIS TYPE OF SHIT.