#and to anyone taking this personally...why are you

[uncontrollablequeerentity]

For a visual, I'd advise everyone to take a look at this website that demonstrates wealth inequality quite well. Brian Thompson was merely a symptom of a much, much larger problem. Even he didn't have a meaningfully impactful salary. We literally have TRILLIONAIRES, the definition of obscene wealth, which we *know* comes from the pain and suffering of *countless* people.

As we the conversation around class consciousness is taking hold these days, we have to be clear here about what the point of our arguments are, what the point of our actions are, and what are the actual changes that would lead to the most *meaningful* change that we would fight for. We are all working with much, much less than we labor for, so we have to be smart about where we apply our resources (or not!). We have had successful movements in the past and we can do it again, we are doing it now. Learn from our own and others' revolutionary histories, work on your propoganda literacy and biases, join organizations, participate in strikes/boycotts in unison, we have plenty of methods at our disposal and plenty of successes behind us - industries, kingdoms, and empires are toppled all the time! We can destroy wealth inequality! The best time to start is always TODAY!

Okay, so, friends. Occasionally I see an American post on here about “guillotine the rich,” and it turns out that “rich” means “anyone making over $50k.”

We need to clear this shit up REAL fast, because otherwise it’s gonna wind up like the French Revolution, where more middle class and poor people were killed for being “class traitors” than actual nobles. (Did you know that France has more nobles today than during the French Revolution? While there were a few showy executions, many nobles did just fine or experienced minor setbacks.)

If someone makes $60,000 a year, they are making about twice as much as a full time worker making minimum wage in California, Arizona, Colorado, Connecticut, DC, Hawaii, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, Oregon, Rhode Island, or Washington State.

Brian Thompson, the CEO of United HealthCare who was just assassinated in New York City, earned $10 million a year, which means he earned 333 times minimum wage in those states. Basically, he cleared an annual minimum wage salary in just over a day. And that “rich” person making $60k/year that you want to guillotine? He made their salary in a bit over two days of a year.

So he was rich, right?

Well. Tesla is trying to give Elon Musk a pay package of $101 billion. That is 10,100 times what Brian Thompson earned and 3,366,667 times more than a minimum wage worker. (Tesla hasn’t been successful yet because of a complicated lawsuit from a shareholder, but they’ll get there.) If you are a minimum wage worker, Elon Musk makes more every SECOND than you do in a year. And that “rich” person who you want to guillotine? He makes their salary in about 1.6 seconds. Even when he’s sleeping.

Now, remember. The Muskrat also is the head of SpaceX, the Boring Company, X.ai, and X.com, so this is just ONE pay package for him.

What I’m saying is — you have much more in common when it comes to economic grievances with someone earning $60,000 (or even $200,000) than the ultra wealthy that have real power. They are not the people you should expend your energy on.

[deepspacenova]

UNDER PRESSURE

1700 words | banter. tension. jealousy. possessive Sylus.

Prompt: running into your main lads man (boyfriend) while you're out with your second favorite lads man (as a friend) and how they would react.

Note: Written for this round robin/challenge by the lovely @jinwoosbabyboo -- it's open for anyone, by the way, so consider yourself tagged if you're interested! (:

The smell of antiseptic mingled with the earthy scent of Vagrant's Land while the pop-up clinic buzzed with organized chaos. Patients with various illnesses and injuries stood around waiting for the moment they'd be called back and have their ailments treated or cured.

The welcome tent’s fabric flapped in the soft breeze as you let the nurse manning the check-ins know why you were there. When you were shown inside, you noticed the open space had been outfitted with portable medical equipment to create a busy hive of treatment cubicles and testing areas.

You glanced around the crowded space until you found him. Taller than most of the room, intent on his work, and confidently in his element, Dr. Zayne scribbled onto the clipboard a nurse was holding toward him. Finishing his last marking, he looked up, cool hazel eyes thawing ever-so-slightly and dented with a happy crinkle as he straightened and dismissed your escort.

"Right on time," he murmured, grabbing two latex gloves, a yellow file folder, and his medical bag.

"Miracles can happen when you least expect them," you teased with a grin.

Zayne started to usher you toward a makeshift examination corner since all the cubicle curtains were closed. "Medical miracles, maybe," he quipped. "But you being on time? That’s a phenomenon even science can’t explain."

You laughed softly, sitting down as he gestured to a folding chair and rested his medical bag on the wobbly table next to him. "Careful, Dr. Zayne, your bedside manner is slipping."

With an amused shake of his head, he reassured, "This shouldn't take long. Just a quick exam, same as always."

You nodded, rolling up your sleeve as he pressed his cool fingers to the inside of your wrist and got started. His touch was warm but impersonal, his attention fixed on his readings. He moved methodically, pressing the tips of his fingers over your heart and chest.

Though the process was clinical, you couldn't help but study Zayne with fondness — the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his nostrils flared when a loud noise interrupted him, the way his breath became a tickle on your cheek when he leaned in to adjust his stethoscope.

That was the moment you heard his voice.

“Don't tell me you're afraid now,” Sylus demanded from the clinic's entrance, making nurses and bystanders alike stand to attention, as if they couldn't help but wait for his next directive. “I could put you two into far worse situations.”

Two hooded boys in medical masks shuffled in behind him, the defiant puff of their chests doing little to hide their apprehension. At Sylus' words Luke scowled but didn’t argue while Kieran kept glancing toward the exit like a cornered animal. Giving them a pointed look toward the nurse they were supposed to follow, he took a few steps forward before his eyes landed on you.

The vision of the leader of Onychinus halting in place with a satisfied smirk spreading across his face was unnerving enough to straighten every spine in the vicinity. But he barely noticed as he waved off the boys and made his way toward you.

Then his eyes flicked to the person next to you. To the stern yet striking man whose face was so close to yours he was practically stealing your fucking air from you.

Jaw tightening — the only outward sign of his discomfiture—Sylus strode toward you with deliberate, measured steps, his posture casual but predatory.

A fluttering of wings had taken flight in your stomach as soon as you'd heard Sylus' gravelly voice, but for the sake of Zayne's time and not raising any eyebrows in the semi-public setting, you'd resolved to find Sylus after your check-up. Unfortunately for you, Sylus never much cared about the concept of discretion when it came to you.

Stopping behind you, he placed the edge of his palm on your shoulders, spreading his fingers across your chest in a rather over-the-top display of possessiveness.

Doctor Zayne hadn't even looked up at the interruption and had moved on to digging for a tool in his medical bag when the hand-shaped barrier blocked his access to your heart.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?" Though the words were casual, his tone was wrapped in barbed wire.

"Sylus!" You said, hoping the breathlessness in your voice wasn't too noticeable. Looking up at his sharp features, which managed to be frustratingly beautiful even upside down, you smiled and moved his hands from your chest to your biceps, patting the tops of them twice. "I didn't know this is what you meant when you said you were taking care of some business with Luke and Kieran. Shouldn't you be with them?"

A low chuckle emerged from his throat, laced with both amusement and menace. "I was, sweetie. That is, until someone else piqued my... curiosity." His hands slid slowly down to the crooks of your elbows and then disappeared. Suddenly, the chair next to you was occupied with your boyfriend's imposing form, eyes boring into Zayne's unflappable figure. "I didn't realize doctors from Linkon City made special appointments when they visited Vagrant's Land."

“I volunteer here once a month,” Zayne said matter-of-factly. He didn’t look up as he re-focused on his examination of you, ignoring Sylus' eyes — one, a muted scarlet, the other an angry vermillion — trained on every movement. “It’s a good way to reach those who can’t make it to a hospital.”

Sylus’s gaze darkened, his lips curving into a tight smile. “How noble of you. I see you're very—” His eyes lingered on Zayne’s hand, still resting against your chest. “—thorough with your patients.”

"Sylus," you cut in quickly. "Have you met my childhood friend, Zayne? We recently reconnected when he became my doctor."

But Sylus' attention didn't move from Zayne.

“Any good doctor is thorough,” Zayne replied, turning to jot down notes into your file. His voice was calm, almost bored, as if Sylus’s presence barely registered. “If something's off, it's important to work on her as soon as possible."

“I’ll bet it is,” Sylus muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

Recognizing the simmering menace in his tone, you jam your elbow into Sylus' narrowing your eyes in a silent warning. Your string of bad luck continued however, when, after he placed a dramatic hand over his elbow, Sylus went back to watching your childhood friend with the kind of intensity that made most people fear for their lives.

Zayne, of course, was not most people.

“Do you mind?” Zayne asked, flicking a quick glance at Sylus through his lashes. “I’m trying to work.”

“Not at all,” Sylus replied smoothly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Another tense few minutes pass, and the balloon of pressure in your chest expanded second by second as the tension between Sylus and Zayne crackled like static.

You were caught between irritation with Sylus for his uncharacteristically territorial behavior or shock with Zayne, who was acting more aloof than usual, almost like he was... purposefully fueling Sylus' ire.

“So, Sylus,” you said brightly, trying again to diffuse the situation. “Why'd you bring Luke and Kieran here?”

“Do they seem like the guys who'd show up to update their vaccines if I didn't drag them myself?” he shot back with a smirk, jerking his head toward the cubicle Luke and Kieran were in.

“That’s admirable,” Zayne remarked, his tone neutral. “More people should take an interest in the well-being of others.”

“That's me, a real caretaker," Sylus drawled, eyes narrowed. And just like that, any hope for the peace you'd been building toward popped like a bubble. "Though I can't say I'm as hands-on as you, doctor. At least... not in public."

"A shame." Zayne raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused. “Hands-on can be very effective when done correctly.”

The implication hung in the air, subtle but deliberate. You groaned internally, feeling like a rope in an increasingly taut tug-of-war.

“Alright, enough,” you snapped, looking down at them with your hands on your hips. “Sylus, this is just a check-up. Zayne, stop provoking.”

Both men fell silent, though the charged atmosphere lingered.

Sylus had the nerve to look almost... chagrined for the first time in his life, which alone worked wonders on your frustration — though from the way he stood and rested his hand on the back of your neck, it might've been more placating than chagrined.

Zayne, who also stood up, simply adjusted his glasses, his composure as unshaken as ever.

“I’m done here,” Zayne said, handing you a slip of paper. “I've updated the schedule according to your upcoming work trips. Other than that, you're fine.”

“Thank you, Zayne,” you smile warmly, stuffing the paper into your bag.

Zayne nodded, then turned to Sylus and held out his hand in a begrudging truce. “She’s in good health. You can relax.”

For a moment, you stared at Sylus' stoic expression and worried all hell would break loose in Vagrant's Land. Then, he linked his hand with Zayne's and gave it a firm, business-like shake, turned you around, and led you back to the entrance to wait for Luke and Kieran.

You couldn’t help but glance back at Zayne as you walked. He'd already moved onto his next patient, but caught your eye when you look around. And you could've sworn that Zayne, Doctor Zayne, your childhood friend, winked at you.

Once you were far enough to feel the afternoon breeze sweep over you, Sylus' gaze softened as he searched your face. “You feeling alright?” he asked, looking at the place where her aether core rested. His voice was quieter now, the edges of his tone no longer sounding so ruffled.

“I don't know. How should I feel after I've been pissed on by my boyfriend at my doctor's appointment?” Though you try to sound angry, it comes out as nothing but pure amusement.

At your smile, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and the corner of his lips curved. "Pissed on? I'd never do something so crass, kitten." He leaned down, his breath gliding over the crook of your neck like a feather, and rasped, "You know I'm more of a biter."

[jupiterpilgrim]

Collision

Christmas Special🎄

Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 16K

The driveway crunches under your tires, the snow thick and fresh, the icy wind biting at your face the second you step out of the car. It smells like home—pine trees and the faint whiff of wood smoke from the chimney. But none of it feels comforting. The weight in your stomach isn’t from your bag slung over your shoulder; it’s dread.

Christmas is supposed to be easy, right? Some lights, shitty jokes from your dad, a pile of gifts no one really needs. But this year? No, this year is a fucking curveball. Your dad remarried. Out of nowhere. Surprise! He’s got a wife, and she’s got a daughter. You haven’t even met them yet. They could be anyone. Strangers, stuck in your house, calling it theirs. What if they don’t like you? 

Worse—what if they do?

The front door swings open before you even reach it, and there’s your dad, grinning like he’s already three spiked eggnogs deep. “Hey, kiddo!” he booms, pulling you into a bear hug that smells like aftershave and nostalgia. You pat his back awkwardly, your fingers cold and stiff.

Inside, the house is warm, almost stifling, and decked out like Christmas threw up everywhere—tinsel, garlands, the works. You catch a glimpse of the tree in the living room, its blinking lights like a sugar rush for your eyes. You put your bag on the floor for a moment.

That's when you see one of them.  

Your stepmother’s standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel, her smile wide but a little hesitant. She’s tall, polished, the kind of woman who looks like she’s never eaten a carb without guilt. She steps forward, offers a hand. “Good evening, sweetheart. So nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is smooth, polite. You shake her hand, mumbling your name and something about being pleased to meet her as well.

But your eyes slide past her, drawn like a goddamn magnet, and there she is.

Yujin. 

Yes, her.

It’s like getting punched in the gut. She leans against the doorway, arms crossed, lips curled in that same fucking smirk you’ve had nightmares about. Her black hair falls over one shoulder, her skin flawless, her legs impossibly long in ripped jeans that should be illegal. She hasn’t changed, except maybe she’s hotter now, and isn’t that just the ultimate middle finger from the universe?

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says, her voice low and syrupy, and it knocks the air out of you. Her smile widens as your brain short-circuits. “So nice to finally meet my stepbrother.”

You can’t even answer. 

Your throat’s dry, your palms clammy. All the memories come rushing back—her cornering you by your locker, stealing your homework, making you trip in front of half the school. She was your personal tormentor, a one-girl wrecking crew of humiliation. 

And now? 

Now she’s in your house.

You force your legs to move, stepping forward to shake her hand, because what the fuck else are you supposed to do? But she doesn’t take it. Instead, she pulls you into a hug. A hug. Her body presses against yours, warm and soft and so fucking wrong, and then she leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

“God, you’re still such a little bitch,” she whispers, her voice so quiet only you can hear. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Your heart’s slamming in your chest, your hands shaking as you pull away, trying to act normal. But she’s watching you with that sly grin, her eyes sparkling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your dad says, oblivious to the tension in the room. “Why don’t you kids catch up?”

Yujin winks at you. “Yeah, let’s catch up,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly.

You nod, because what else can you do? Christmas Eve has already become your funeral. The nightmare’s just started, and there’s no waking up from this one. 

“Err, sure, I'll just keep my stuff in my room.” 

I'll help you!" exclaims Yujin, the altruist.

“You don’t have to—” you start, your voice cracking as Yujin plucks your bag off the floor like it weighs nothing. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she cuts you off, grinning wide enough to show teeth. “What kind of stepsister would I be if I didn’t help my adorable little stepbrother settle in?”

Her tone drips with mock sweetness, and you glance toward your dad, silently pleading for rescue, but he’s too busy smiling like a proud idiot. Your stepmother nudges him with her elbow, murmuring something about how nice it is to see the two of you bonding. 

You want to scream.

“I can handle it,” you try again, grabbing for the bag, but Yujin just tilts it out of reach and turns toward the stairs.

“Don’t be rude,” she says over her shoulder, her smirk still firmly in place. “Lead the way, champ.”

You have no choice but to trudge up the stairs, Yujin trailing behind you with your bag. You can practically feel her eyes burning into the back of your neck. Your old room’s at the end of the hall, unchanged except for the faint smell of mothballs and abandonment. You push the door open and step inside, already imagining locking it and barricading it with a chair. 

But before you can say a word, Yujin’s behind you, kicking the door shut with the heel of her boot. The sharp click of the latch sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well,” she says, dropping your bag onto the bed with a heavy thud. “This is cozy. Still jerking off to the same anime posters, or did college finally level you up?”

Your cheeks go hot instantly, and you spin to face her. “Shut up,” you snap, sharper than you mean to, but it just makes her grin wider.

“There’s that fire,” she purrs, stepping closer, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. “I was starting to think college turned you into a total bore.”

You take a deep breath, forcing your voice to stay calm. Mature. “Did you know?” you ask, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Before today. Did you know I was—” You can’t even finish the sentence. The words feel too ridiculous. Too impossible.

“Your dad’s son?” she finishes for you, arching a perfect eyebrow. “Obviously. He showed me this cute little picture of you two together. Big grins, matching dorky Christmas sweaters. I thought I was gonna piss myself!"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “So you’ve been planning this.”

“Planning?” She tilts her head, mock-innocent. “Oh, no, stepbrother. I’ve just been… looking forward to it. Every day since I found out.” She pauses, leaning in until you can smell her shampoo, something sharp and floral that makes your head spin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face downstairs. Priceless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold your ground. “You’re acting like we’re still in high school,” you say, your voice steady, even though you’re sweating bullets. “We’re not kids anymore. Can you try acting like an adult for five minutes?”

“Hmm.” She taps a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Nope. Too boring.”

You want to scream again, but instead you sit on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands. “What do you want, Yujin?” you mumble through your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Why am I like this?” she echoes, feigning shock. She perches on the bed next to you, so close her knee brushes yours. “I’m like this because it’s fun, dummy. Look at you. You’re so easy.”

“I’m not—” You stop yourself, clenching your jaw. “Can we just… not?”

“Not what? Talk about college? Your big, important life now?” She rolls her eyes, leaning back on her palms. “Alright, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your boring classes and your boring friends.”

“It’s not boring,” you mutter, glaring at her. “I’m doing well. Better than high school, anyway.”

“Well, that’s a low fucking bar.” She smirks, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, I’m kidding. Lighten up.”

You sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “Fine. What about you, then? What are you doing with your life, besides making mine hell?”

“Oh, you know.” She waves a hand lazily. “This and that. I’ve got a part-time job. Still deciding what I want to do long-term. For now, I’m focusing on hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes. “Like tormenting me?”

“Bingo.” She winks, crossing her legs and making herself way too comfortable on your bed. “But seriously, I’ve mellowed out. College must’ve made you soft.”

You bristle at the jab, but you don’t take the bait. Not this time. “Can you just—can you try to be normal? Just for Christmas?”

“Normal?” She laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re in my house now. Normal’s not on the menu.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. 

This is going to be the longest Christmas of your life.

“Remember that time I locked you in the janitor’s closet during lunch?” Yujin says, lounging across your bed like she owns it, her smile is as sharp as ever, her voice dripping with nostalgia. “You cried so loud, the janitor thought the fire alarm was going off.”

You stiffen, gripping your knees so tight your knuckles turn white. “I didn’t cry,” you mutter, though your face burns hot at the memory. You’d been pounding on the door, desperate to get out, and yeah, maybe your voice cracked a little, but crying…? No way.

“Oh, you definitely cried,” she shoots back, her grin widening. “Tears streaming down your nerdy little face, begging for someone to let you out. It was adorable.”

“It was traumatic,” you snap, glaring at her. “I missed half my math test because of you.”

“Half your math test?” She gasps, mocking a look of horror. “God forbid! How did you survive without your precious GPA?”

“Can you not?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you think this is funny? You made my life a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” She laughs, the sound light and cruel. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. You’re acting like I burned your house down or something.”

“It felt like it,” you grumble under your breath.

She smirks, propping herself up on one elbow. “You know, I was doing you a favor. Toughening you up. Making sure you didn’t grow up to be a total pushover.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that. Really shaped me into a beacon of confidence.”

She leans closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“God, you are a sociopath,” you mutter, turning away to stare at the wall. You feel her gaze burning into the back of your head, like she’s trying to decide whether to poke the bear or let it simmer.

“So,” she says after a beat, her tone turning mock casual, “what about that time I replaced all your locker stuff with tampons? Classic, right?”

You whip around, your face a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Classic? That was humiliating. Everyone laughed at me for weeks.”

“Months,” she corrects with a smirk. “Come on, though, you’ve got to admit it was creative.”

“Creative?” You bark out a laugh, bitter and sad. “You literally ruined my high school experience.”

“And yet here you are,” she says, spreading her arms as if presenting you. “Still alive. Still kicking. Still, uh… well, you.”

You glare at her, trying to ignore the smug look on her face. “How do you even live with yourself?”

“Easily,” she says with a shrug. “I’m amazing.”

Before you can retort, your dad’s voice booms from downstairs, calling your name. “Dinner’s ready! You two coming down?”

Yujin hops off the bed, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t just spend the last ten minutes reliving your personal hell. “Better not keep the old man waiting,” she says, sauntering toward the door. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin. “Try not to trip on the way down, nerd.”

You grit your teeth, swallowing the retort that’s bubbling up. You can feel your temper boiling under the surface, but you clamp down on it. She’s not worth it. Not here, not now. 

Following her downstairs, you try to shake off the memories, but they cling to you like cobwebs. Her laugh echoes in your ears, and for a moment, you wonder if this Christmas can get any worse. 

Something tells you it can.

—

The dining room is warm, the table set with enough food to feed a small army: a roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce—the works. The smell alone would normally make your stomach rumble, but you can’t think about eating right now. You’re too busy trying to disappear into your chair while Yujin holds court.

She’s sitting directly across from you, a glass of wine in her hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. Your dad and stepmother are at either end of the table, smiling like this is a damn Coca-Cola commercial. They keep stealing glances between you and Yujin, clearly delighted that their kids are finally “bonding.”

“So,” your dad starts, cutting into his turkey, “how are you two getting along so far? Hitting it off?”

Yujin’s grin stretches wider as she sets her glass down, her fingers trailing along the rim. “Oh, we’re getting along great,” she says, her voice sugary sweet, but her eyes are locked on you, daring you to contradict her. “It’s like no time has passed at all.”

“That’s wonderful,” your stepmother gushes, clasping her hands together, apparently without noticing the subtext of her daughter's speech. “I was hoping you two would click. It’s so important, you know? Especially with blended families.”

Your dad nods enthusiastically, raising his glass. “To new beginnings!” 

You mumble something noncommittal, raising your water glass just to avoid looking rude, but Yujin doesn’t miss a beat.

“New beginnings,” she echoes, winking at you over the rim of her wine glass. “Though, really, it’s more like picking up where we left off.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge, and your stomach churns. You glance at your dad, praying he doesn’t take the bait, but of course, he does.

“Oh?” he says, perking up. “Did you two know each other before?”

Yujin leans back in her chair, crossing her legs, her expression pure amusement. “Oh, sure. We were… friends in high school.” She emphasizes the word “friends” in a way that makes you want to crawl under the table and die.

Your dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That’s incredible! What are the odds?”

“It’s like fate,” Yujin says, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “We were absolutely inseparable. Weren’t we, little brother?”

You choke on your mashed potatoes, coughing violently. Your stepmother hands you a napkin, her face full of concern, but Yujin just watches, her smile never faltering. 

“You okay, champ?” she asks, tilting her head like she’s genuinely worried. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you croak, your voice raw. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”

“Well, don’t die on us,” your dad jokes, oblivious to the tension. “So, you two were close, huh? Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”

Yujin answers before you can even open your mouth. “Oh, you know how it is. There are so many things we need to remember daily... And High school’s such a whirlwind. But yeah, we spent a lot of time together. In fact…” She pauses, letting the suspense build as she picks up her fork, stabbing a piece of turkey. “Some might say I had a… profound influence on him.”

You grit your teeth so hard you’re surprised your molars don’t shatter. “That’s… one way to put it,” you mutter.

“Don’t be modest,” Yujin teases, pointing her fork at you. “You were so dedicated. Always trying to impress me, always going out of your way to… help.” She says the last word with a sly smile, and you feel your face burning.

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly delighted. “Well, that’s just fantastic. See? This was meant to be.”

“It really was,” Yujin agrees, taking another sip of wine. “I mean, what are the chances? You, me, and now—” She gestures around the table dramatically. “One big, happy family.”

“Exactly,” your stepmother says, beaming. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you two getting along. It’s like a Christmas miracle!”

You force a tight-lipped smile, shoving a forkful of green beans into your mouth to avoid saying something you’ll regret. Meanwhile, Yujin’s smirk grows impossibly wider, like she’s savoring every second of your misery.

“Tell us more about this,” your dad says, clearly eager to keep the conversation going, “what kind of stuff did you two do together back in high school? Any fun stories?”

Your heart sinks. Before you can come up with an excuse to dodge the question, Yujin leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, so many stories,” she says, her voice light and breezy. “Like the time we… Oh, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass him. You know how sensitive he is.”

You glare at her, your hands clenched into fists under the table. “I’m not sensitive,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended.

Yujin gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock surprise. “Wow, defensive much? Relax, stepbrother. We’re just reminiscing. It’s healthy.”

Your stepmother chuckles, keeping a conspiratorial and amused expression with your father. “They’re just like siblings already, aren’t they?”

“Just like siblings,” Yujin echoes, her tone syrupy and smug. She catches your eye across the table, her smirk so infuriatingly smug it makes your blood boil. “Don’t you think, bro?”

You grind your teeth, stabbing your turkey with unnecessary force. “Sure. Just like siblings.”

The meal continues, the conversation flowing easily for everyone except you. Every time you start to relax, Yujin finds a new way to dig her claws in—mentioning a “funny” story that conveniently paints you in the worst possible light, brushing her foot against yours under the table, or throwing out a sarcastic comment every time you try to speak.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re ready to fake food poisoning just to escape. But your parents? They’re over the moon. As far as they’re concerned, this is the happiest Christmas dinner ever.

—

The circus of horrors ends in a swirl of polite conversation and over-loud laughter, the kind that covers up awkward silences and unspoken tension. You pick at the crumbs of your dessert plate until you can’t justify sitting there anymore. Your dad, ever the enthusiast, claps you on the shoulder as everyone starts to disperse. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from a few too many glasses of wine.  

"Hey, kiddo," he says, steering you toward the living room while Yujin and your stepmother clean up the table. "Can we talk for a second?"  

You stiffen but nod, letting him guide you to the couch. He plops down, gesturing for you to do the same, and you oblige, your hands fidgeting in your lap.  

“Look,” he starts, his tone softening in that way parents do when they’re trying to get serious. “I just want to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s not easy, this whole blended family thing. But seeing you and Yujin getting along? It means the world to me.”  

You swallow hard, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “She’s… great.”  

“She really is,” he says. “And you, you’ve grown up so much. I know high school wasn’t easy for you, but look at you now—college, a bright future. I couldn’t be prouder.”  

Your chest tightens. How are you supposed to tell him that his perfect stepdaughter was your high school tormentor? That every smile she throws your way feels like a dagger aimed at your sanity? 

You can’t. 

It would ruin everything.  

So you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thanks, Dad.”  

He pulls you into a quick hug, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were a kid. “Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day—Our first Christmas morning as a new family!”  

You force another smile, mumbling something about heading to bed. And with that, this one-sidedly joyful conversation ends. 

—

Your room feels like a sanctuary as you close the door behind you, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket. You set up your laptop on the bed, scrolling through animated movies until you land on The Lion King. The opening notes of “Circle of Life” fill the room, and for the first time all evening, you start to relax.  

You’re halfway through the Mufasa's death when you hear a knock on the door. 

You freeze, your heart sinking. 

There’s only one person it could be.  

With a sigh, you pause the movie, put the laptop on the desk and shuffle to the door, pulling it open just enough to peek through. Sure enough, there’s Yujin, leaning against the doorframe in pajamas that leave very little to the imagination—short shorts that barely cover her thighs and a tank top so tight it’s almost transparent.  

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on her face and not the way her shorts cling to her hips.  

She smirks, tilting her head like she’s already won. “Relax, nerd. I just need to borrow your toothbrush.”  

You blink, sure you misheard her. “My toothbrush?”  

“Yeah.” She pushes past you into the room without waiting for an invitation, looking around like she owns the place. “I forgot mine at my mom’s place, and I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”  

You turn to face her, incredulous. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you use my toothbrush.”  

She glances at your laptop screen, her smirk widening when she sees the paused scene. “Wait—are you watching The Lion King?”  

“Yeah, so?” You fold your arms, trying to deflect.  

Her laugh is sharp, cutting. “Oh my God, you’re such a child. What’s next? Gonna snuggle up with a teddy bear and sing 'Hakuna Matata'?"  

“Classic Disney movies are comforting,” you snap, your cheeks burning. “They’re timeless. Not that you’d understand.”  

“Comforting?” She raises an eyebrow, her grin downright wicked. “You’re pathetic. Do you still sleep with a nightlight too?”  

“At least I’m not barging into people’s rooms asking to share their toothbrush,” you fire back. “That’s disgusting.”  

She shrugs, unbothered. “What’s the big deal? We’re practically family now.”  

“That doesn’t make it okay!”  

“Well, I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”  

“Use your finger,” you suggest, exasperated.  

She gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Oh, the audacity! What kind of savage do you take me for?”  

“An entitled one,” you mutter, regretting it the second it’s out of your mouth.  

Her eyes narrow, but her smirk doesn’t waver. She steps closer, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavier. “Careful, stepbrother,” she says, her voice low, almost teasing. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”  

You swallow hard, stepping back instinctively as she invades your space. “I—just… go ask your mom or something.”  

“Nah,” she says, taking another step forward, her eyes locking onto yours. “I like seeing you squirm too much.”  

Your back hits the edge of your desk, your laptop wobbling precariously. The paused image of Simba and Mufasa feels absurdly out of place, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Yujin as she leans in, her smirk turning predatory.  

“So,” she whispers, her voice dripping with false innocence. “Are you gonna lend me that toothbrush, or do I have to get creative?”   

You're tired of being trapped in this kind of situation and know that if you don't make a change, nothing will be different. Decided, you straighten your spine, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare her down.

Enough is enough. 

You’re not the same awkward, scared kid she pushed around in high school. “No,” you say, your voice firm. “You’re not using my toothbrush. Ever.”  

Her eyes narrow even further, her smirk faltering for the first time. “What’s your fucking problem, dude?”  

“My problem?” You laugh. “My problem is that you think it’s normal to walk into someone’s room and ask to scrape your nasty teeth with their toothbrush.”  

Her jaw drops, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Nasty?! Excuse me, but my teeth are perfectly clean!”  

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. If you count all the lying and cheating you’ve done with that mouth...”  

Her lips part, and for a moment, she looks genuinely offended. Then her expression hardens, her voice dripping with anger. “You’re such a little bitch, you know that? Sitting here in your sad little room, watching Disney movies like a five-year-old.”  

“And you’re a dumb bitch,” you snap back, your temper flaring. “You only made it out of high school because you stole my homework and cheated on every test. I bet you don't know how to solve even a first degree equation!” 

The second the word leaves your mouth, you know you’ve fucked up.  

Yujin goes very still, her smirk vanishing. Her dark eyes fix on you, cold and unblinking, and for the first time, you feel a genuine spike of fear.  

“What did you just call me?” she says, her voice dangerously low.  

You open your mouth, trying to backpedal, but nothing comes out. She steps closer, her presence suddenly towering.

“I said,” she repeats, each word deliberate, “what did you just call me?”  

“I… I—I didn’t mean—”  

She cuts you off with a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve got some balls, stepbrother. Calling a woman a bitch like that. You think you’re tough now, huh? Big college guy? Watching The Lion King and talking shit?”  

You hold up your hands, trying to de-escalate. “Yujin, come on, I didn’t mean it like—”  

“I’ll teach you,” she interrupts, her voice dropping into a dangerous purr. “I’ll teach you to never call a woman a bitch again.”  

Before you can react, she moves. It happens so fast, your brain barely processes it—her hands on your arm, a twist, a pull, and suddenly your back hits the floor with a dull thud.  

"Jesus Christ!” you yelp, gasping for air.  

She’s on you in an instant, her knees pressing into your shoulders as she straddles you. “What’s the matter, nerd?” she taunts, leaning down so her face is inches from yours. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”  

“Get off me!” you sputter, squirming beneath her, but she’s stronger than she looks.  

“Oh, no,” she says, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. “You’re not getting off that easy.”  

Her thighs shift, and before you know it, they’re wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you panic. You grab at her legs, trying to push her off, but it’s like grappling with steel.  

“Holy shit, Yujin! What the hell are you doing?”  

“Teaching you a lesson,” she says, her voice mockingly sweet. “Say it. Say you’ll never call me a bitch again.”  

“Fine, fine!” you choke out, your hands clawing at her thighs. “I won’t! Just let go!”  

But she doesn’t let go. If anything, she squeezes harder, a triumphant laugh spilling from her lips. “Oh, no. Not until you say it properly. Beg me, stepbrother. Let’s hear it.”  

“Yujin, come on!” Your voice is muffled, your vision starting to blur. “You’re insane!”  

“And you’re pathetic,” she counters, her smirk widening. “Now say it. Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch.”  

You groan, your pride warring with your desperation for oxygen. But as her thighs tighten again, cutting off what little air you have left, you know you don’t have a choice.  

“Fine!” you gasp, your voice ragged. “Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch!”  

She laughs, a rich, mocking sound that vibrates through her thighs where they clamp loosely around your neck. Her long, toned legs feel impossibly strong, even though she isn’t really applying pressure. The mere implication that she could is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat.

“Sorry?” she repeats, tilting her head like she’s genuinely considering your words. “Hmm, doesn’t sound very convincing. Say it again, but this time really mean it. Oh, and call me ma’am.”  

Your face flushes hot, humiliation creeping up your neck. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” you stammer, hating how meek you sound. “Please, I swear I won’t say anything like that again.”  

She smirks, her thighs shifting slightly, the soft warmth of her skin pressing against the sides of your head. “That’s better,” she purrs, “but we’re not quite done, are we? Will you lend me your toothbrush now, or do I have to keep teaching you some respect?”  

You grit your teeth, anger flaring despite your position. “I’m not lending you my toothbrush, Yujin! That’s disgusting.”  

Her expression darkens, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “Wrong answer,” she says sweetly, leaning forward so her weight presses just a bit more against your throat.  

“Wait, wait!” you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at her thighs. “Fine! Take it, okay? Just let me go!”  

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She loosens her hold, but she doesn’t get up. Instead, her gaze drops, and her grin grows wider. “Oh my god,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery. “Are you seriously hard right now?”  

Your heart stops. You glance down in horror and realize that, yes, the bulge in your pants is painfully obvious.  

“It’s not—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off, shifting her thighs back into position.  

“Don’t even try to deny it,” she coos, leaning in closer. “Look at you, blushing like a little schoolboy. Are you actually enjoying this? Do you like being choked by my thighs?”  

“N-no!” you stammer, though your voice falters as her thighs press just a fraction tighter, the plushness of her skin enveloping your cheeks.  

“Liar,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Come on, admit it. I can feel you squirming, and I can see that pathetic little boner of yours. Just say it—you like it, don’t you?”  

You try to shake your head, but her legs hold you in place. “I don’t—”  

“Say it,” she interrupts, her tone firm but still playful. “Or I’ll keep you here all night. Admit that you like how warm and soft my thighs are. Tell me you’re a submissive little perv.”  

Your resistance crumbles under her relentless teasing. Your face burns as you mumble, “Okay… fine. It’s kind of… nice.”  

Her laughter is bright and triumphant. “That’s what I thought. You’re a submissive little slut, aren’t you?”  

You close your eyes, wishing the floor would swallow you up, but she’s relentless. Her thighs move between your face, forcing you to look up at her.  

“So,” she drawls, “are you a virgin?”  

“No!” you blurt out immediately, your face heating up.  

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “No? Really? I don’t buy it.” Her grin widens as she watches you squirm. “Come on, don’t bullshit me. Who the hell would fuck you?”  

Your mouth opens, then closes. “I’m not lying,” you manage. “I’ve had sex before! In college.”  

Yujin bursts into laughter, loud and mocking, her head tilting back in genuine amusement. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious. You? Getting laid? Please.” She leans in closer. “What was her name, huh? Bet she doesn’t exist. Face it—no girl, not even the most desperate, would fuck a loser like you.”  

Her words hit harder than you expect, and the shame wells up in your chest. But she turns your chin with her thighs, forcing you to face her again.

“Aww,” she coos, feigning sympathy. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Well, maybe I’m feeling generous tonight. Must be the Christmas spirit or something.” She lets out a low chuckle, her thighs rubbing your neck slowly, almost like a massage. “Tell you what. Since you’re clearly a pathetic little virgin, how about I take that burden off your hands?”  

Your eyes widen, your body betraying you as your erection presses harder against your pants. She notices immediately, her smirk turning wicked. “Oh, you like that idea, huh?”  

“W-wait,” you stammer, but her voice cuts through yours.  

“Not so fast,” she says, her thighs flexing against your neck just enough to make your pulse spike. “Before I even consider it, you need to admit something to me.”  

“Admit what?” you ask nervously.  

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “That I’m beautiful.”  

You laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, no chance.”  

Her thighs squeeze tighter, making you gasp. “What was that?” she taunts. “You sure about that answer?”  

Your heart races as you struggle against the pressure. “Okay, okay! You’re beautiful, alright?”  

Her smile grows triumphant. “See? That wasn’t so hard. But just beautiful?”  

You hesitate, her expectant gaze burning into you. “You’re hot too,” you mutter.

She feigns surprise, pressing a hand to her chest. “Hot? Oh, you’re making me blush. What else?”  

You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “Your thighs… they’re, uh, juicy. And thick.”  

Her laughter is rich and sultry. “Juicy and thick, huh? You like being smothered by them?”  

“Yes,” you admit, your voice small.  

She grins. “What about my smile?”  

“It’s beautiful,” you say reluctantly.  

Her grin widens. “Oh, really? Didn’t you say earlier that my teeth were nasty?”  

You groan, the heat in your face unbearable. “I lied. Your teeth are… perfect.”  

She leans back slightly, studying you with an amused glint in her eye. “You’re not just saying all this so I’ll fuck you, right?”  

“No,” you insist. “It’s all true.”  

Her smirk softens into something almost curious. “Alright then. What did you think of me back in high school?”  

You try to avoid her gaze, but she won’t let you look away. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”  

“Talk,” she demands, her thighs pressing just slightly again. “Or I’ll keep you here all night.”  

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. I had a crush on you, okay? I just… I wished you’d been nicer to me.”  

She snorts, shaking her head. “A crush? On me? That’s adorable. Why didn’t you do anything about it?”  

“Because I knew you’d never notice me,” you mumble. “I was just the guy you bullied.”  

She grins wickedly. “That’s not true. You were also good at doing my homework.” Her laugh is loud and unrepentant, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of humiliation all over again.  

Her fingers tug at the hem of her shorts. “What do you think of my pajamas?”  

You glance up at her reluctantly. The short shorts hug her hips in all the right ways, and her tank top perfectly shapes her breasts. “You look… hot,” you admit quietly.  

She smirks, clearly satisfied. “Good, because I picked them out just to tease you. But I think you’ve humiliated yourself enough for one night.” She stands, finally freeing you from her hold, and stretches languidly. “Go get on your bed. It’s going to be the best night of your life.”

Without much choice, you agree. Yujin goes to the door and locks it, then joins you. Now the bed feels smaller now with her on it, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight as Yujin stretches out, making herself comfortable like she owns the place. The Lion King is still paused on your laptop, Simba frozen trying to wake up his already lifeless father, a stark reminder of how normal your night had been before this. Your stomach flips as she looks at you with that amused smirk, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and authority.  

“So,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “if you want me to fuck you, you’ve got to prove it.”  

“Prove it?” you echo nervously, fiddling with the edge of your blanket.  

“Yeah,” she says, sitting cross-legged now, her bare thighs on full display. “Show me you love me. Show me you’re capable of doing anything for me.”  

Your throat feels tight as you stammer, “But… isn’t this… wrong? I mean, because of our parents?”  

Yujin’s smirk deepens, and she leans forward, her face close enough that you can feel the warmth of her breath. “Who says they have to know? This can be our little secret,” she purrs, her tone dripping with mockery.  

You hesitate, your thoughts racing. She notices, of course. Yujin notices everything. “Look,” she says, her voice firm now, “I don’t fuck guys who don’t value me. If you’re not willing to worship me, I'm getting the hell out of your little room so you can jerk off to some disgusting hentai alone.

Her words sting, and before you can even formulate a response, she stretches out one long, toned leg, her foot pointed like a ballerina’s. “Here’s how this works,” she says, wiggling her toes. “If you want to cum tonight, you’re going to worship me. Like a goddess.”  

Your face burns as you stare at her foot, delicate and perfectly pedicured, her nails painted a glossy red. “I don’t… I don’t have a foot fetish,” you stammer weakly.  

Yujin rolls her eyes, laughing softly. “I don’t give a fuck if you do or not. I told you to suck my toes. So, do it.”  

You hesitate, but her expression shifts, her gaze narrowing. “Are you really going to make me repeat myself? Suck. My. Toes.”  

There’s something commanding in her tone that makes your heart race. You swallow hard, your gaze flickering to her foot. It’s undeniably… beautiful. Soft skin, high arch, perfectly shaped. Before you can overthink it, you lean forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the top of her foot.  

She laughs, low and pleased. “Good boy. But I said suck, not kiss. Start with my toes.”  

Your hands tremble slightly as you lift her foot, her skin warm against your palms. You bring it closer, your lips brushing against her big toe. “Take it slow,” she says, leaning back on her elbows, her voice a purr. “I want to enjoy this.”  

You start tentatively, pressing kisses along her toes, your lips lingering longer each time. The scent of her lotion is faint but sweet, and you find yourself losing the initial awkwardness. Her skin is soft, smoother than you expected, and the warmth of her body feels oddly intimate.  

“Now lick,” she commands, her tone playful but firm.  

Your tongue darts out, tracing the curve of her big toe. The taste is neutral, nothing unpleasant, and as you swirl your tongue around the pad of her toe, you catch a glimpse of her face. She’s watching you intently, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.  

“See?” she says, her voice a little breathier now. “Not so bad, is it?”  

You don’t respond, too focused on the task. Your lips wrap around her toe, sucking gently, and she lets out a soft hum of approval. “That’s it,” she murmurs. “Use your tongue more. I want to feel it everywhere.”  

You move to her other toes, sucking and licking each one, the wet sounds almost obscene in the quiet room. Her foot flexes slightly in your grip, and you realize you’re gripping her ankle like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.  

“Good boy,” she says again, her tone dripping with condescension. “I think you’re actually starting to enjoy this.”  

You hate how right she is. 

There’s something strangely intimate about the act, the way her soft skin feels against your lips, the way her low murmurs of approval send a thrill through you. You glance up at her, your cheeks burning, and she smirks.  

“Don’t stop now,” she teases. “You’re just getting started. Show me how much you appreciate me.”  

Your tongue trails along the arch of her foot, your kisses growing bolder. Her laughter fills the room, light and mocking, but there’s a genuine note of pleasure there too.  

“Damn,” she says, wiggling her toes against your lips. “You’re a natural. Maybe you do have a foot fetish after all.”  

You shake your head, her toes still in your mouth, and she laughs harder. “Whatever you say, loser,” she purrs. “Just keep going. You’re doing great.”

Your lips drag slowly along the arch of her foot, tongue gliding up the curve, and every second feels surreal. You’re too deep into it now to stop. Yujin lounges back, one hand resting lazily on her stomach while the other dips beneath the waistband of her tiny shorts.  

Her movement catches your attention, and you pause for a fraction of a second before her voice cuts through the air. “Did I say you could stop?”  

“N-no,” you stammer, your breath warm against her skin.  

“Then don’t,” she snaps, but her tone is lighter now, almost teasing. Her fingers shift under her shorts, her hips shifting slightly. Her smirk widens when she sees your gaze flicker to the way her hand moves. “Eyes on my foot,” she orders. “You’re not done worshipping me.”  

You swallow hard and lean back in, your tongue running along the side of her foot now, your lips brushing her toes again, sucking gently. You hear her soft, satisfied sigh, and the sound sends heat pooling in your gut.  

“God, you’re really into this, huh?” she purrs, her fingers clearly working beneath the fabric of her shorts. “Look at you, completely devoted. It’s actually kind of cute… in a pathetic, loser-way.”  

Her words should sting, but instead, they just make you want to keep going, to prove yourself. You press firmer kisses along her foot, your tongue tracing every curve and ridge. Your hands tremble as they grip her ankle, and your own arousal throbs insistently, impossible to ignore.  

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurt out suddenly, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.  

Yujin giggles, a sound that’s both mocking and genuinely pleased. “I know,” she says smugly, her hips rolling subtly as her fingers continue their work. “But it’s cute of you to say it out loud. Keep going, loser. You’re doing great.”  

Your mouth moves faster now, kissing and licking with more fervor, as if her approval is the only thing that matters. Your hand drifts down to your own pants, palming yourself through the fabric as you watch her.  

She notices, of course. “Oh, look at you,” she teases, her voice low and syrupy. “Touching yourself already? You’re so fucking easy. What are you even thinking about right now?”  

“You,” you admit breathlessly, the words spilling out in a rush. “You’re so hot, Yujin. You’re making me—”  

“Making you what?” she interrupts, her smirk growing.  

“Making me so fucking hard,” you say, your voice cracking slightly.  

Her laughter is soft, sultry, and her hand moves faster under her shorts. “Yeah? And you’re making my pussy so wet,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you, on your knees, sucking my toes like a good little boy. How could I not get turned on?”  

Your breath hitches at her words, and you press your palm harder against yourself, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “You look so fucking good,” you mutter.  

She grins lazily, her fingers disappearing deeper beneath her shorts. “Keep going,” she says, her tone commanding. “Make me even wetter. Prove you’re worth fucking.”  

You obey, diving back into your task with renewed determination. Her soft moans fill the room now, and every sound she makes sends shivers down your spine. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how easily she has you wrapped around her finger.  

“God, you’re pathetic,” she murmurs, but there’s a heat in her voice that makes it sound like a compliment. “And you fucking love it, don’t you?”  

You nod against her foot, her skin warm and soft against your lips. “I do,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “I love it. I love… you.”  

She freezes for a moment, her fingers pausing their movements. 

Then her smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Of course you do,” she says simply, her voice like velvet. “Now keep going, bitch.”

Your tongue glides across her toes, your saliva leaving them shiny and glistening. Yujin watches with a smirk that grows wider each time she flexes her foot and you eagerly follow, sucking and licking every inch. Her toes are damp, her skin slick and wet, and by now the faint taste of her lotion feels familiar on your tongue.  

“Wow,” she says mockingly, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re really committed to this, aren’t you? My foot’s fucking drooling, and you look like you’re ready to propose to it.”  

You look up, her smug expression only making your cock twitch harder against the confines of your pants. Your lips hover over her big toe for a moment as you catch your breath, her words hitting something deep inside you.  

“You want to keep going?” she asks, tilting her head as her fingers lazily tap against her thigh. “Or are you finally gonna admit how much you’re loving this?”  

You don’t answer, at least not verbally. Instead, you lean down again, kissing the top of her foot, sucking on her toes, letting your lips linger longer this time. It’s humiliating, sure, but there’s something addictive about the way she looks at you, the way she controls every second of this.  

After a while, she pulls her foot away suddenly, smirking when she sees the disappointment flash across your face. “Alright, enough foreplay,” she says, her voice playful but firm. ��Take off your pants.”  

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”  

“You heard me,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Pants. Underwear. Off. Now.”  

Your hands hesitate at the waistband of your pants, but her sharp gaze cuts through any lingering doubts. You nod, fumbling as you undo the button and slide them down, your boxers following soon after.  

The moment your cock springs free, Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, and for the first time, her cocky smirk falters. “Holy shit,” she says, her tone caught somewhere between surprise and appreciation. “For a loser virgin nerd, you’ve got a pretty big, thick cock. What a waste.”  

You don’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed, so you just stand there awkwardly, your hands twitching at your sides as she leans forward slightly, inspecting you like she’s trying to decide what to do next.  

“Alright,” she says, waving you back toward the bed. “Lie down. I wanna play with you a little first.”  

You obey, climbing onto the bed, your heart racing as she stretches out on the opposite side of the bed. Her foot, still slick with your saliva, presses gently against the base of your cock. The sudden contact makes you gasp, and she giggles, clearly enjoying your reaction.  

“Damn,” she teases, slowly sliding her foot up along your length. “Look at you. You’re already leaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”  

You bite your lip, your breath hitching as she presses her other foot against you, sandwiching your cock between both of them. The wetness from your earlier efforts makes every movement smooth and almost unbearably good.  

“How’s that feel?” she asks, her tone mockingly sweet as her feet start to move, stroking you with slow, deliberate motions.  

“F-fucking amazing,” you admit, your voice shaking.  

She laughs, her toes curling slightly as she drags them up the shaft. “Of course it does. I mean, look at you—getting jerked off by my feet. Bet you never imagined this happening in your wildest nerdy dreams.”  

You groan, your hips bucking slightly as her pace picks up. The wet glide of her skin against yours is intoxicating, every stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.  

“Stay still,” she orders, pressing her heel against your tip just enough to make you gasp. “You move, and I stop. Got it?”  

You nod frantically, your hands gripping the sheets as you fight to keep yourself in place. “Y-yeah, I got it,” you stammer.  

“Good boy,” she purrs, her voice dripping with condescension as her feet resume their slow, teasing movements.  

The room fills with the obscene sound of her slick feet stroking you, the wetness amplifying every glide. She watches you intently, her lips curling into a smirk every time you let out a ragged moan or bite your lip to hold back a louder one.  

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her feet pressing tighter around your cock as she moves faster. “All that attitude earlier, and now you’re just a whimpering little mess. Bet you’d do anything I told you to right now, huh?”  

“Y-yes,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.  

She grins triumphantly, her toes brushing against your tip in a way that makes your entire body shudder. “That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “You’re such a good little loser when you’re like this. Makes me almost want to keep you around.”  

You groan, your hips jerking slightly despite her earlier warning. Her smirk widens as she presses her feet down harder, the added pressure making you gasp.  

“Getting close already?” she asks, her tone dripping with amusement. “Wow, you really are pathetic. Guess I’d better slow down, huh?”  

“Please don’t,” you beg, your voice breaking.  

Her laugh is low and wicked as she leans back slightly, her feet never stopping their relentless motion. “I dunno,” she says playfully. “Maybe I’ll let you cum… if you beg me properly.”  

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan. “Please, Yujin. Please let me cum. I’ll do anything you want.”  

Her smirk softens into something almost approving. “That’s better,” she says, her feet stroking you faster now. “Now, let’s see just how much of a mess you can make for me.” 

Yujin’s feet slide up and down your cock with maddening precision, the slick warmth of your spit coating every inch of her smooth skin. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, and her smug smirk only makes it worse. She knows exactly what she’s doing—driving you insane with a combination of physical control and that sharp tongue of hers.  

“Look at you,” she says, her voice low and dripping with mockery. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart. You’re such a fucking mess.”  

Your hands grip the sheets tightly, your breath coming in short gasps. “Y-Yujin…” you stammer, but she doesn’t let you finish.  

“Don’t talk,” she snaps, pressing her toes against the sensitive tip of your cock. The pressure makes you moan loudly, your hips jerking against her feet. “Just moan for me like the desperate little virgin you are.”  

The words even hit you with a certain impact, but the pleasure is too overwhelming for you to even protest. “I’m not—”  

“Shut up,” she interrupts, her feet sliding faster now, the wet sounds filling the room. “Do you really think I believe that? You’re pathetic. A loser. But you’re my loser tonight, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely audible.  

She smirks, clearly pleased with your response. Her hand disappears under her shorts again, and this time, she doesn’t bother to hide what she’s doing. Her fingers move rhythmically, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips rocking slightly.  

“You like this, don’t you?” she says, her voice breathy but still full of authority. “Being under me. Being humiliated by me. You missed it, didn’t you?”  

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t speak. She doesn’t let up, her feet sliding faster, her toes curling around you just right. “Answer me,” she demands.  

“Yes,” you finally admit, your voice cracking as the confession spills out. “Yes, I missed it.”  

Her grin widens, her movements growing more deliberate. “Missed what, exactly? Be specific.”  

You groan, your head pressing back against the pillow. “I missed… I missed you,” you manage between ragged breaths.  

“Missed me?” she repeats, her laughter soft and condescending. “That’s cute. But what about me, huh? Did you miss being humiliated? Miss the attention I gave you? Did you miss the way I used to push you around?”  

Your chest tightens, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Yes! Fuck, yes, I missed it. I missed you. I missed… how aggressive you were.”  

She lets out a low, triumphant hum, her hand moving faster under her shorts as she leans forward slightly. “You missed me putting you in your place, didn’t you?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice desperate now.  

“And now you’re here,” she purrs, her toes pressing down against the head of your cock, drawing a strangled gasp from you. “Completely under my control. Look at you, squirming under my feet like a little bitch. I bet you’re loving every second of it.”  

“I am,” you admit.

“God, you’re such a loser,” she says, her feet sliding faster, the wet sounds growing louder. “But at least you’re my loser. Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you love me.”  

“I love it,” you gasp, your body trembling as you edge closer and closer to release. “I love you, Yujin. Fuck, I love you.”  

Her smirk softens slightly, just enough to make you wonder if she’s taking this all in stride or actually enjoying it as much as you are. Her toes curl around you again, and the friction pushes you right to the edge.  

“Go on, then,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “Paint my feet with your virgin load. Show me what a good little foot bitch you can be."

She speeds up her movements again, her feet working your shaft with practiced skill. The pressure builds and builds until you can't take it anymore. With a strangled cry, your orgasm explodes making you roll your eyes. 

Your cock pulses violently as thick ropes of cum shoot out, coating her soles and toes in your hot seed. She doesn't stop moving her feet, milking every last drop from your twitching member as you shake and moan helplessly.

"Holy fuck, look how much you came," Yujin laughs, spreading her toes to watch the cum drip between them. "Guess you really did need this release badly. Been saving up all this spunk just for my feet, haven't you?"  

You nod weakly, your body still trembling as the last waves of pleasure roll through you. She pulls her feet away, inspecting them with an amused grin before wiping them on the sheets.  

“Hope you’re ready,” she says, her voice light but wicked. “We’re just getting started.”  

The room feels heavy with the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of cum and sweat. You’re sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Before you can fully recover, she leans in.  

Her face is so close that you can feel her breath on your lips, warm and teasing. Her eyes lock onto yours, a spark of mischief and something darker flickering there. Her lips brush against yours, just barely, a ghost of a touch that sends shivers down your spine.  

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she whispers, her voice low and sultry, dripping with temptation.  

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.  

She smirks, leaning back just a fraction. “Say it,” she demands, her tone sharp. “Say you belong to me.”  

Your heart pounds in your chest as her eyes bore into yours. “I… I belong to you,” you stammer, the words feeling both foreign and natural in your mouth.  

“Good boy,” she purrs, and then her lips crash against yours.  

It’s electrifying. Her mouth moves against yours with a mix of dominance and hunger, her lips soft but demanding. The taste of her consumes you, your head spinning as her hand cups your jaw, holding you exactly where she wants you.  

When she finally pulls back, your lips are tingling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. She studies your face with a satisfied smirk. “Was that your first kiss?”  

Your face burns, and you nod, too embarrassed to speak.  

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, her voice filled with disbelief and delight. “Your first fucking kiss. God, you’re such a loser.” Her smirk deepens, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “But you’re my loser...”  

Her words make you shiver, and she leans in again, her lips hovering over yours. “Open your mouth,” she orders softly.  

You obey, your lips parting instinctively, and she spits directly into your mouth. The warm, salty taste coats your tongue, and before you can even process it, her mouth is on yours again.  

This time, the kiss is messier, wetter. Her tongue invades your mouth, exploring and claiming, and you can’t help but respond, your own tongue meeting hers in a clumsy but eager dance. Spit mixes and drips down your chin, but you don’t care. All that matters is her, the way she tastes, the way she’s completely consuming you.  

When she finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking down at you with that same infuriatingly smug grin.  

“Are you going to take everything I give you?” she asks, her voice low and demanding.  

“Yes,” you reply immediately, your voice shaky but certain.  

“Promise me,” she says, her tone softer but no less commanding.  

“I promise,” you say, your eyes locking onto hers.  

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head with a playful smirk. “God, it’s so fucking annoying how wet you make me. You’re such a pathetic little virgin, but you’re driving me insane.”  

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through your body, and she sits up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She slides them down slowly, revealing her soaked panties, the fabric clinging to her skin.  

“Your turn to please me now,” she says, pushing her panties to the side to reveal her glistening folds. The sight is mesmerizing, and your throat tightens as you take her in.  

“If you eat my pussy well,” she continues, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself over you, “I might just reward you. But if you suck at it…” She smirks, her thighs flexing slightly. “Let’s just say I’ll be very disappointed.”  

She shifts closer, her knees on either side of your head, her thighs framing your face. Her scent is intoxicating, heady and warm, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core.  

“Are you ready to be squeezed by my thighs again?” she asks, her voice teasing but firm.  

“Yes,” you reply, your voice trembling with anticipation.  

“Good,” she says. “Now don’t disappoint me, loser.”

Yujin lowers herself onto your face slowly, deliberately, the wet heat of her pussy pressing against your lips for the first time. You’re instantly overwhelmed—her scent, her warmth, the slickness of her folds—it’s all so new, so intense.  

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Your tongue flicks out hesitantly, just barely brushing her, and you hear her scoff from above.  

“Don’t just sit there, nerd,” she says, her voice sharp but tinged with amusement. “Start licking. God, do I have to teach you everything?”  

You nod against her, your hands awkwardly resting on her thighs as you try to figure it out. “Yes,” you mumble, your voice muffled by her.  

She lets out a frustrated sigh, reaching down to grab your hair and yank your head back slightly. “Fine. Listen up,” she commands. “Start with my clit. It’s the little nub at the top. Just lick it softly—don’t get all sloppy yet. Got it?”  

“Got it,” you mutter, and tentatively, your tongue moves to where she’s directed. You find the sensitive bundle of nerves and give it a slow, deliberate lick.  

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her voice softening slightly. “But don’t be afraid to use your whole tongue. Make it feel good for me.”  

You nod again, more confident now, and start swirling your tongue around her clit, alternating between soft licks and gentle flicks. The reaction is immediate—her thighs twitch slightly against your head, and she lets out a low, pleased hum.  

“Not bad,” she says, her voice teasing. “For a first-timer, anyway. Keep going. Use your lips too—suck on it a little.”  

You obey without hesitation, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Her soft moan above you sends a rush of adrenaline through your system, and you grip her thighs tighter, wanting to hear more.  

“Fuck,” she mutters, her hand still tangled in your hair as she starts to grind against your face. “You’re learning fast, aren’t you? Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”  

Her words spur you on, and you press your tongue flat against her, licking her in long, slow strokes before returning to her clit. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, and you find yourself savoring the taste—warm, slightly salty, and completely intoxicating.  

Her moans grow louder, but her tone remains dominant, even now. “Don’t get cocky,” she warns, her hips rolling against your mouth. “You’re doing okay, but I want more. Stick your tongue inside me.”  

Your heart pounds as you comply, your tongue darting into her entrance. Her slick walls clench around you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You push deeper, your nose brushing against her clit as you try to keep up with her grinding.  

“Fuck, that’s it,” she breathes, her dominant tone cracking just slightly as her pleasure builds. “You’re finally starting to get it. Keep going, don’t you dare stop.”  

Her taste is addictive, her heat pulling you in, and you lose yourself in the act. Your hands slide up her thighs, holding her hips steady as you thrust your tongue in and out of her, your lips dragging against her folds with every movement.  

“God, you’re such a little slut for me,” she says, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Getting addicted to my pussy, huh? I can feel it—you don’t want to stop, do you?”  

You shake your head against her, your tongue never faltering.  

Her laughter is breathy, almost ragged now. “Of course you don’t. You’re fucking addicted already. Good. That’s exactly where I want you.”  

Her thighs tighten around your head, squeezing just enough to make you feel completely trapped beneath her. Her grinding grows more frantic, her slickness dripping down your chin, and you can feel her body trembling as she approaches her climax.  

“Don’t stop,” she commands, her voice breaking into a moan. “Fuck, don’t you fucking stop.”

Yujin’s moans fill the room, soft and breathy at first but quickly growing louder, more desperate. Each sound she makes sends a surge of adrenaline through you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling against her clit, dipping into her soaked folds. Her taste is addictive, her slickness coating your lips and chin, and you’re completely lost in the moment.  

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hand gripping your hair tighter, her hips rolling against your face. “You’re actually good at this. Keep going, loser. Don’t stop.”  

Her praise—if you can even call it that—makes your heart pound harder. You grip her thighs, your hands trembling slightly as you pull her closer, burying your face even deeper between her legs. Your tongue moves faster now, swirling around her clit before sliding down to tease her entrance.  

“Goddamn,” she moans, her voice muffled as she bites her lip, clearly struggling to keep quiet. Her head tilts back, and her free hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Shit… I can’t—my mom—fuck, don’t stop, loser, just… don't go all out like that.”  

You’re too focused to respond, your tongue pressing firmly against her clit as you suck gently, your lips dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her thighs clamp tighter around your head, and you can feel her whole body trembling, her hips grinding harder against your face.  

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mutters under her breath, her hand still covering her mouth as her muffled moans escape. “If they hear—fuck, it’s so good—I swear I’ll kill you if you stop now.”  

You have no intention of stopping. 

Her moans are your fuel, and you redouble your efforts, your tongue working furiously to push her closer to the edge. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking softly between strokes, and her reaction is immediate.  

“Fuck!” she whispers harshly, her hips bucking against your face. “Right there—yeah, your tongue is perfect!"

Yujin’s thighs tighten around your head, the wet heat of her pussy pressing harder against your lips as her moans grow louder, more urgent. Every breathy whimper, every shaky sigh she lets out fuels you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling with renewed determination.  

“Shit,” she gasps, her voice cracking. Her hand flies to her mouth again, muffling her next moan. “God, you’re gonna get us caught, you idiot—” Her words cut off into a muffled moan as her hips grind harder against your face.  

You don’t stop. If anything, her desperation spurs you on. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking gently before dipping down to explore her folds, her slick juices coating your lips and chin. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you can’t get enough.  

“Fuck, fuck,” she mutters behind her hand, her thighs trembling against your head. “You’re actually—oh my god—you’re actually good at this.”  

Her hips start moving erratically, grinding against your face with an urgency that makes your heart race. She’s close, you can feel it in the way her body tenses, in the way her moans pitch higher despite her efforts to muffle them.  

“Don’t stop,” she whispers harshly, her voice barely audible over the wet sounds of your tongue against her. “Fuck, don’t you dare stop—”  

You tighten your grip on her thighs, holding her steady as you give it your all, your tongue focusing on her clit, flicking and circling as her grinding grows frantic. Her juices drip down your chin, warm and slick, and you don’t care about the mess—you’re too consumed by the need to push her over the edge.  

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice muffled but trembling. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”  

Her body stiffens suddenly, her thighs clamping tightly around your head as a muffled cry escapes her lips. Her hips jerk against your face, and you feel a rush of warmth as she cums, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin.  

You keep going, your tongue moving gently now, lapping up every drop as she rides out her orgasm. Her hand falls from her mouth, and she lets out a shaky sigh, her body trembling above you.  

“Holy shit,” she mutters, her voice raw and breathless. She shifts slightly, her thighs relaxing their grip on your head, and you pull back just enough to meet her gaze. Her face is flushed, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath.  

“You actually… you actually made me cum,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief and a hint of amusement. “I didn’t think you had it in you, loser.”  

You manage a weak smile, your lips and chin still glistening with her juices.  

She smirks, leaning down to wipe your chin with her thumb before sucking it clean with a satisfied hum. “Guess you’re good for something after all,” she says, her voice soft but teasing. “Now, lick me clean. Every last drop.”  

Yujin slides off your face, leaving you breathless, her thighs glistening with her slick juices. She collapses onto the bed, spreading her legs lazily, her pussy still flushed and dripping. “Come on, you’ve got work to do,” she says, tilting her head toward her wet thighs. “Clean me up.”  

You nod wordlessly, leaning in and pressing your tongue to the inside of her thigh. Her skin is soft and warm, her taste still fresh on your lips. You drag your tongue up slowly, savoring every drop, alternating between long licks and soft kisses.  

Her fingers thread through your hair as she watches you work. “What do you think of my taste?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.  

You glance up at her, your lips brushing against the curve of her thigh. “It’s perfect,” you say, your voice full of reverence.  

A satisfied smile spreads across her face, and she props herself up on one elbow. “Good boy,” she purrs. “You’ve earned a reward.”  

Before you can ask what she means, she pulls her tank top over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Her bare breasts are revealed—average-sized, perky, with small, pink nipples that practically beg for attention. She lies on her side next to you, her body relaxed but her eyes sharp as she studies your reaction.  

“First time seeing tits in real life?” she asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and mockery.  

You nod, your face flushing. “Y-yeah.”  

She smirks, leaning closer. “You wanna touch them?”  

Your throat feels dry as you nod again, unable to tear your eyes away from her chest.  

“Ask nicely,” she demands, her voice taking on that commanding edge again.  

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you say, “Yujin, can I… can I touch them, please?”  

She grins, clearly enjoying your nervousness. “Go ahead,” she says, arching her back slightly to push her chest closer to you.  

Your hands tremble as you reach out, your fingers brushing against her soft skin for the first time. The sensation is incredible—warm, supple, and completely new. You cup her breasts gently, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she lets out a soft hum of approval.  

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost tender.  

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“Don’t be shy,” she says, her smirk returning. “You can squeeze them. Play with them.”  

You obey, your hands moving more confidently now. You massage her breasts, your fingers exploring every curve and dip, your thumbs circling her nipples until they harden under your touch. She arches her back slightly, pressing into your hands, her breath hitching.  

“Good,” she murmurs. “Now suck them.”  

You don’t hesitate. You lean down, your lips wrapping around one of her nipples as your tongue flicks against it. She lets out a soft sigh, her hand resting on the back of your head to keep you in place.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice thick with pleasure. “You’re eager, huh? Like a starving puppy.”  

Her words make your cock twitch, already rock-hard again. You switch to her other breast, sucking and licking with the same enthusiasm, your hands kneading her soft flesh.  

She notices your arousal, of course, her hand trailing down your body until it wraps around your shaft. “You’re so fucking hard again,” she murmurs, stroking you slowly. “It’s almost pathetic how much you want this.”  

You let out a muffled groan against her breast, your hips jerking into her hand as she strokes you with practiced ease. Her thumb glides over your tip, spreading the pre-cum leaking from you.  

“God, you’re such a mess,” she teases, her voice full of mockery and heat. “But you’re my mess.”  

Yujin’s fingers work your cock with a steady, teasing rhythm, her hand warm and slick from your pre-cum. Meanwhile, your mouth is still on her breasts, sucking and licking her hardened nipples with devotion. You feel intoxicated—her scent, her taste, the way she completely controls every second of this—it’s all too much, yet not enough.  

You get carried away, your teeth grazing her nipple just a bit too hard. She gasps, her back arching, and suddenly her hand tightens around your cock, squeezing just enough to make you freeze.  

“Hey!” she snaps, her tone sharp as her eyes narrow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t just bite a woman’s nipples like that.”  

You pull back immediately, your face heating up. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking up at her.  

She huffs, her fingers loosening but still holding you firmly. “God, you’ve got so much to learn,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What are you, a fucking caveman? Be gentle.”  

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you say again, swallowing hard.  

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “At least you’re eager. I’ll give you that. But don’t fuck up again, or I might just leave you here with blue balls.”  

You nod quickly, your lips returning to her breast, this time much more careful. She relaxes again, her smirk returning as her hand resumes stroking you. “That’s better,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “Good boy. Keep sucking.”  

You lose yourself in the moment, your lips wrapping around her nipple, your tongue flicking and swirling while her hand works you faster. The combination of sensations is almost too much to handle, and you let out a muffled moan against her skin.  

“God, you’re so fucking loud,” she mutters, her fingers sliding up to rub your sensitive tip. “If you keep making noises like that, they’re gonna hear us.”  

She pulls back suddenly, her breasts leaving your mouth as she sits up, looking down at you with a wicked grin. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”  

“Time for what?” you ask, breathless and dazed.  

“For me to fuck you,” she says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”  

She chuckles, leaning in close. “You sure?” she asks, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I’m not stopping until I cum, so you’d better keep up.”  

“I’m sure,” you say, your voice trembling.  

Her grin widens as she pulls away, finally standing up beside the bed. “Maybe it won’t be too hard,” she says, eyeing your cock. “With a dick that big, you might actually make me feel something.”  

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down slowly, teasingly, until they fall to the floor. Her pussy is glistening, flushed and ready, and you can’t take your eyes off her.  

“Open your mouth,” she commands suddenly.  

You blink, confused. “What?”  

She picks up her soaked panties and dangles them in front of your face. “You heard me. Open your mouth.”  

“Shouldn’t you be the one gagged with them?” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.  

She lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re adorable,” she says mockingly. “But no, loser. You don’t get to make the rules here. Now open up, or I’ll reconsider this whole thing.”  

You hesitate for only a second before obeying, parting your lips.  

“Good boy,” she says, smirking as she presses the damp fabric into your mouth. The taste of her is overwhelming—warm, musky, and undeniably intoxicating. “See? You love the way I taste anyway, don’t you?”  

You nod, your cheeks burning as she climbs back onto the bed, positioning herself above you.  

“Keep those in,” she orders, her hands planting on your chest as she straddles your hips. “I don’t want to hear a fucking peep out of you.”  

Her wet folds brush against the tip of your cock, and the sensation is electric, making your whole body tense. She grins down at you, her eyes locking onto yours as she teases you, grinding against you without letting you inside.  

“Ready, loser?” she asks, her voice dripping with mockery and heat.  

You nod frantically, muffled sounds escaping around the panties in your mouth.  

“Good,” she murmurs, positioning herself before sinking down onto you in one slow, deliberate motion.  

The heat and tightness of her envelop you completely, and the sensation is almost too much to handle. Your head falls back against the pillow, muffled groans spilling out as she bottoms out, her hips resting flush against yours.  

“Fuck,” she mutters, biting her lip as she adjusts to your size. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”  

She starts to move, her hips rolling slowly at first, her wetness making every movement smooth and maddening. Her hands slide up your chest, her nails digging in slightly as she picks up the pace, riding you with a confidence that leaves you breathless.  

“God, you feel so fucking good,” she moans.

Yujin's hips roll against you with an almost punishing rhythm, her wetness making every thrust slick and smooth. Her moans escape her lips in breathy, desperate bursts, and she bites her lip, trying and failing to keep them low. The whole scene feels unreal—Yujin, the girl who made your life hell in high school, is now on top of you, her pussy gripping you so tight it feels like she was made for this.  

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she rides you harder. “You’re actually doing it for me. Who knew this pathetic little loser would have such a good cock?”  

You can’t reply, not with her soaked panties stuffed in your mouth, so you nod instead, your muffled groans mixing with the obscene sounds of her riding you.  

Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her pace quickens. Her nipples, hard and pink, peek between her fingers as she teases herself, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside her.  

“You like watching me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice sultry but still laced with that teasing edge. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? Your big bad bully fucking the shit out of you.”  

You nod frantically, your eyes glued to her chest as her hands work her breasts.  

“Thought so,” she purrs, smirking down at you. “Am I hot? Tell me I’m fucking hot.”  

You nod again, your muffled voice straining around the fabric in your mouth.  

She laughs breathlessly, her hips slamming down harder now. “God, you’re so easy. Just a big, dumb dick for me to use. And fuck, you feel so fucking good.”  

Her moans grow louder, and she presses one hand against her mouth, her other hand still massaging her breast. “Shit, I can’t be too loud,” she mutters, grinding harder. “Your dad and my mom would fucking kill us if they knew what we were doing.”  

The thought of being caught only seems to turn her on more, her movements becoming more frantic as she chases her own pleasure. You’re completely at her mercy, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm, her thighs flexing as she rides you like she owns you.  

But then she slows, her hands sliding down to your chest as she leans over you, her breath hot against your ear. “Let’s change it up,” she whispers, her voice dripping with authority.  

She pulls off you with a slick, wet sound, leaving you throbbing and desperate. Grabbing your wrists, she maneuvers you onto your back, your legs spreading awkwardly as she positions herself between them.  

“This is called the Amazon position,” she says, her tone mocking as she smirks down at you. “You’re about to get fucked properly.”  

She straddles your waist, your cock pressing against her soaked folds again as she grips your thighs for leverage. With one hand, she lines you up, her other hand pressing against your chest to keep you in place.  

“Ready?” she asks, her smirk widening as she looks down at you.  

You nod, your muffled groan turning into a desperate whimper as she sinks down onto you again, her pussy taking you in inch by inch.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her head tilting back as she adjusts to the new angle. “You’re so fucking deep like this. God, I might actually let you cum if you keep feeling this good.”  

Her hands grip your thighs tighter as she starts moving, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. The position gives her complete control, and she takes full advantage, slamming down onto you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath you.  

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Lying there like a good little toy, letting me use you. Bet you’ve never had a girl take charge like this, huh?”  

You shake your head, your hands gripping the sheets as she rides you relentlessly, her moans filling the room despite her earlier efforts to keep quiet.  

“God, you’re so fucking easy,” she pants, her movements becoming faster, more erratic. “I could do this all night. Fuck, I might have to—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this dick.”  

Yujin’s hips roll and slam against you with abandon now, the room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of her pussy taking you over and over. Her breathing is heavy, her moans louder, no longer restrained. It’s as if she’s forgotten where you are—or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore. The way her nails dig into your chest, her thighs flexing with each thrust, tells you she’s chasing her high, and nothing else matters.  

Your body arches beneath her, the sensation overwhelming, her wet heat gripping you so tightly it feels like she’s molding herself to your cock. You can’t help it anymore—the panties in your mouth feel suffocating. With trembling hands, you yank them out and gasp, your voice cracking as you moan, “Fuck, Yujin… this feels so good. I’m—I’m loving this.”  

Her head snaps down, her eyes locking onto yours, a mix of dominance and amusement lighting up her face. “Oh yeah?” she pants, her pace not faltering for a second. “You love being fucked by me? You love being under me like this?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice shaky but full of conviction. “I fucking love it.”  

She laughs, low and breathless, her lips curling into that wicked smirk that’s burned into your mind. “Of course you do,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still slamming into you with precision. “You’re my little whore, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets as her words send another wave of heat through you.  

“Say it,” she commands, her voice sharp despite the tremor of pleasure in it. “Say you’re my little whore.”  

“I’m your little whore,” you cry out, your voice cracking as her movements grow more frantic.  

She bites her lip, her head falling back for a moment before she looks down at you again, her eyes burning with intensity. “Do I own you?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost intimate, but the demand in her tone is unmistakable.  

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling. “You own me. I belong to you, Yujin.”  

Yujin’s movements become erratic, her hips grinding down onto you with a desperate rhythm, her thighs trembling as she takes you deeper with every thrust. The Amazon position lets her dominate you completely, her hands pressing firmly against your chest for leverage.

The wet, obscene sounds of her pussy swallowing your cock echo in the room, mingling with her moans, which are growing louder and less controlled. She’s past caring about being overheard, her voice shaky and raw as her pleasure builds to a fever pitch.  

“Fuck,” she gasps, her head tilting back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she loses herself in the sensation. “You feel so fucking good… I’m so close.”  

Her thighs flex around your waist, her entire body trembling with the effort to ride you faster, harder. She leans forward, her face hovering inches above yours, her breath hot and ragged as she looks into your eyes. “You’re such a fucking loser,” she pants, her lips curling into a smirk even as her voice shakes. “But this cock… god, this cock is fucking perfect.”  

You groan beneath her, your hands gripping the sheets as her pussy clenches tighter around you. The heat, the pressure, the way she moves—it’s all too much, and you can barely hold on as she takes you closer to the edge.  

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her pace grows frantic. Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing her own nipples as she rides you like her life depends on it. “Don’t you fucking dare come now,” she orders, her tone desperate now. “Just… fuck, just stay right there.”  

Her hips slam down onto you one last time, her body stiffening as she throws her head back with a loud, guttural moan. Her pussy clamps down around your cock, squeezing and pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs tremble violently, and her nails dig into your chest hard enough to leave marks as she grinds down onto you, riding out every last wave of pleasure.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants, her voice raw and breathless as her body jerks against yours. Her slickness floods around you, the heat of her orgasm soaking your thighs and dripping down onto the bed.  

When she finally collapses forward, her chest pressing against yours, her breath comes in ragged gasps, her hair sticking to her damp skin. She’s still trembling slightly, her pussy fluttering around your cock as the last aftershocks of her climax ripple through her.  

“Holy shit,” she mutters against your neck, her voice low and hoarse. “That was fucking insane.”  

You stay still beneath her, your cock still hard inside her as her slick heat surrounds you. She lifts her head after a moment, her smirk returning as she looks down at you, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your chest.  

“You didn’t cum yet, did you?” she asks, her tone smug.  

You shake your head, your breath still uneven.  

“Good,” she says, biting her lip as her hips shift slightly, her pussy still gripping you tightly. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Your cock is amazing.”

You smile weakly, your hands resting on her back as you catch your breath. “You’re… pretty amazing yourself,” you manage, your voice still shaky.  

She chuckles softly, her breath warm against your skin. “Damn right I am.”  

For a while, you just lie there together, your bodies tangled, the post-orgasm haze making everything feel surreal. Especially Yujin, who is kissing you with a tenderness you would never expect from her.  

Then, a sharp knock on the door shatters the quiet.  

“Everything okay in there?” your dad’s voice calls out, muffled through the wood.  

Your heart stops, and Yujin’s eyes snap open, wide with panic. She looks at you, mouthing, do something!

“Y-yeah!” you call back, trying to sound casual.  

Your dad pauses for a moment. “I thought I heard a scream,” he says.  

“Oh, uh, I'm watching a movie!” you blurt out, your voice cracking slightly. “That must’ve been it.”  

“A movie?” he repeats, sounding skeptical.  

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’ll, uh, turn it down. Sorry about that.”  

There’s another pause before your dad finally says, “Alright. Just keep it down, okay? Yujin must be asleep already.”  

“Okay, no problem!” you reply, relief washing over you as you hear his footsteps retreating.  

You and Yujin stay frozen for a moment, then look at each other, wide-eyed. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face, and she starts laughing softly. You can’t help but join her, the tension melting away as you both dissolve into quiet, breathless giggles.  

“You’re fucking insane,” you whisper, shaking your head.  

She smirks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun,” she says smugly.  

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “What does it feel like?” she asks suddenly, her voice softer now.  

“What?”  

“Being fucked by a woman,” she says, her smirk returning. “What’s it like?”  

You pause, your face flushing as you search for the right words. “It’s… the best feeling ever,” you admit. “Your pussy is so tight, it feels so fucking good.”  

Her smirk widens, and she sits up slightly, her hands resting on your chest. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing. “Wanna see how my pussy grips your cock?”  

Your breath catches, and you nod quickly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling.  

She grins wickedly, sliding off you and turning around. “Alright then,” she says, positioning herself on your thighs in a perfect reverse cowgirl. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s see how much you can handle.”  

With that, she lowers herself onto you again, her wet heat enveloping you completely. The sight of her ass bouncing as she starts to ride you is almost too much to handle, and you grip her hips, your fingers sinking into her soft skin as she takes control once more.

Yujin’s hips move in slow, deliberate circles, her wet heat gripping your cock like a vice. From your vantage point, you have a perfect view of her pussy taking you in with every motion, clinging to you tightly as she lifts herself up and sinks back down. It’s mesmerizing—the way she moves is hypnotic, every roll of her hips precise and calculated.  

Her head tilts back slightly, her hands braced on your thighs for balance, her breathing steady but filled with quiet moans. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s driving you crazy.  

“Fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding up to her waist and then lower to her ass. You can’t help yourself—you squeeze her buttocks, soft and fleshy, feeling the way they move under your hands as she rides you.  

She chuckles breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at you. “Like what you see?”  

“Yeah,” you gasp, your fingers digging into her skin as her pace remains maddeningly slow. “You’re fucking perfect.”  

“I know,” she purrs, arching her back slightly to give you an even better view. “Keep talking, loser. I like hearing how much you love this.”  

“You’re amazing,” you admit, your voice trembling. “The way you move, the way you feel… it’s fucking incredible.”  

Her smirk widens as she lets out a low moan, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm. “Of course it is,” she teases. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and now you finally know it.”  

Your fingers tighten on her ass, your hips twitching involuntarily as she grinds down harder. The pleasure is almost unbearable, and then she slows again, her movements languid and torturous.  

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice strained.  

She glances back at you, her smirk turning wicked. “What?”  

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your hands gripping her tighter.  

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just enjoying myself.”  

Her pace remains steady for a moment before she shifts her weight slightly, taking you deeper. Her wetness makes every movement smooth and slick, and the sound of it fills the room, mixing with your ragged breathing.  

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you want to cum inside me?”  

The question jolts you, and your heart skips a beat. “W-what?” you stammer, staring at her in shock.  

She giggles, rolling her hips in a way that makes your whole body shudder. “You heard me,” she says, her tone playful but teasing. “Do you want to cum inside me?”  

“I… I can’t,” you say quickly, panic creeping into your voice. “You could get pregnant.”  

Her laughter is wicked, and she glances back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, so you’re saying you’d like to get me pregnant, huh?”  

“What? No!” you protest, your face burning.  

“Think about it,” she continues, clearly enjoying your reaction. “The big, bad bully who made your life hell, walking around with your baby. Everyone would know it was you. Hell, I’d make sure they knew.”  

“Yujin!” you groan, equal parts embarrassed and aroused.  

“You’d love it, wouldn’t you?” she teases, her pussy tightening around you as she moves. “The thought of me, pregnant because of you. God, you’re such a perv.”  

“It’s exciting, yeah,” you admit reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… no. I don’t want that.”  

She laughs again, the sound rich and sultry. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “I’m on the pill, dumbass. I’ve been on it for a while.”  

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “Why?”  

“Maybe,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still moving, “I was waiting for this moment.”  

The idea sends a jolt of arousal through you, and your cock twitches inside her. “Fuck,” you mutter, your voice shaky. “If that’s true… then yes. I want to cum inside you. I really fucking want to.”  

Her grin widens, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Of course you do,” she says smugly, her hands gripping your thighs as she picks up the pace.  

Her hips slam down harder now, the rhythm more erratic as she chases both of your highs. The sight of her pussy taking you in, the sound of her moans mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin—it’s almost too much, but you manage to hold on, even as the pressure builds inside you.  

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet,” she warns, her voice breathy but firm. “Not until I say so.”  

Yujin’s movements grow frantic, her hips slamming down on your cock with an obscene rhythm. The sound of her ass smacking against your pelvis fills the room, wet and loud, accompanied by her uncontrollable moans. Her head tilts back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and you’re completely transfixed by the sight of her ass bouncing on your cock, jiggling with every violent thrust.  

“Fuck, Yujin,” you gasp, your voice strained. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to hold out.”  

She glances back at you, her face flushed and glistening with sweat, her lips curling into a devilish grin. “Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “You hold on. I need to cum again!”  

You grip the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white as the pleasure builds to unbearable levels. She’s going wild now, her pace relentless, her moans louder and more desperate. Every thrust sends waves of heat coursing through your body, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge.  

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice barely audible. “I’m gonna cum. I can’t hold it.”  

She lets out a sharp cry, her nails digging into your thighs as she rides you harder. “No,” she barks, her tone commanding even as her moans turn ragged. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’ll wait. You’ll cum when I say you can.”  

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to nod, your breath hitching as she continues to take you to your limits.  

“That’s it,” she pants, her voice softening slightly. “You’re my good boy. You’ll wait for me. Just a little longer, okay? We’re gonna cum together.”  

Her encouragement is intoxicating, and you fight to hold back, even as her pace grows more erratic. The wet sound of her pussy taking your cock mixes with the obscene slap of her ass against you, and you can feel her walls tightening around you, clenching rhythmically.  

“I’m so close,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Hold on for me. Just a little more.”  

Your body trembles beneath her, your cock throbbing inside her as she leans forward slightly, her nails dragging down your thighs. Her dirty talk spills from her lips in breathless gasps, driving you both closer to the edge.  

“God, you’re so deep,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I can feel every inch of you, stretching me so good. You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, your voice desperate.  

Her smirk returns, her hips slamming down harder. “You’re gonna fill me up,” she murmurs, her tone filthy. “Mix your cum with my juices. God, I want it so bad. I want your thick, hot cum in my pussy. Are you gonna give it to me?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice breaking as your grip on the sheets tightens.  

She lets out a loud, shaky cry, her movements growing wild and uncontrolled. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, her head tilting back. “I’m cumming! Cum with me, baby, cum inside me!”  

Her words are your undoing. Your body jerks beneath her as your orgasm crashes over you, and you let out a loud, guttural moan as you release deep inside her. Her pussy clamps down on you, pulsing and milking you for everything you have as she cries out, her body trembling with the force of her climax.  

The two of you ride out the waves together, your bodies locked in rhythm as her walls squeeze you tightly, your cum flooding her. Her hips slow, her movements becoming more erratic as the last tremors of her orgasm roll through her. Finally, she collapses forward, her chest heaving as she rests against your thighs, her body still twitching from the intensity.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was… holy shit.”  

You’re too spent to reply, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to catch your breath. She stays there for a moment before slowly sitting up, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face.  

“Let’s see the damage,” she says, her tone playful but tired.  

She lifts herself off you slowly, and you watch as your cock slips out of her with a wet, lewd sound. Thick streams of cum drip from her swollen pussy, trailing down her thighs and pooling on the sheets beneath her.  

“Damn,” she murmurs, reaching down to swipe her fingers through the mess before holding them up to show you. “You really filled me up, huh?”  

You nod weakly, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of her pussy still leaking your cum.  

She grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Not bad for a loser,” she teases softly. “Not bad at all.”  

The room is still, the air thick with the lingering heat of your bodies and the unmistakable scent of sex. Yujin sits beside you, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. You watch her, unable to tear your gaze away from the way her flushed skin glows under the soft light, her hair messy, her lips slightly swollen. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and kiss her.  

It’s not a tentative kiss this time. It’s intense, filled with every ounce of passion you didn’t know you had left in you. Yujin freezes for a second, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness, but she recovers quickly. Her lips move against yours, just as hungry as before, her hands cupping your face as if she’s trying to figure out what just got into you.  

When you finally pull back, her eyes are wide, searching yours. “Wow,” she says, letting out a small laugh. “Where the hell did that come from?”  

“I couldn’t help it,” you admit. “That was… the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”  

Yujin chuckles, a low, lazy sound that warms the environment. “Not gonna lie,” she says, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I think I might agree with you on that.”  

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t stop the words that come tumbling out next. “You look really beautiful right now,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.  

Her smirk returns, but there’s something softer behind it this time. “Careful,” she teases, tilting her head. “Are you falling in love with me or something?”  

Your face burns instantly, and you fumble for a response. “No! I mean… I—uh, that’s not what I meant—”  

She cuts you off with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, loser. I’m just messing with you.” Her voice drops slightly, and she looks at you, almost shy. “But… maybe I like you too. Just a little.”  

“Do you mean you like me now,” you ask after a moment, your voice hesitant, “or… did you like me in high school?”  

She hesitates, chewing her lip as if deciding whether to answer honestly. “Yeah, since high school,” she admits finally, avoiding your gaze.  

“But… then why were you so mean to me?”  

She rolls her eyes, but her smirk doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “You only ever see the bad side of things,” she says, her tone playful but tinged with something serious. “Do you not remember how many times I kept other people from fucking with you?”  

You blink, the memory surfacing almost instantly. A group of older guys had cornered you once by the lockers, shoving you around, but before things got worse, Yujin had shown up like a goddamn storm cloud. She’d sent them scattering with nothing more than a sharp glare and a few choice words.  

“That was you,” you mutter, the realization sinking in.  

She shrugs, her expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, that was me. Look, I’m not good at showing feelings, alright? My love language is… teasing. Irritating people. Making their lives hell. It's my defense mechanism. It's complicated to explain."

“So, what you’re saying is… the more you teased me, the more you liked me?”  

Her face flushes, and she scowls, swatting your arm. “Don't feel special just because I told you this, dumbass.” She pauses, then mutters, “But… maybe.”  

You grin, the bittersweet humor of it all settling over you. “That means you must have liked me a lot, then.”  

“Shut up,” she grumbles, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as she leans in and kisses you again, softer this time.  

When she pulls back, she stretches out on the bed, looking far too comfortable. “Let’s watch your stupid Lion King movie,” she says.

You blink at her. “Didn’t you just make fun of it earlier?”  

She rolls her eyes. “I was teasing you, silly. Everyone loves Disney movies.”  

You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your laptop on the desk, but something nags at you. “Shouldn’t you go back to your room?” you ask, glancing toward the door. “What if your mom or my dad heard us?”  

She smirks, unfazed. “First of all, your room is the last one in the hall, if they barely heard my screams before, they won't hear us now. Second, they both sleep like rocks. We’re fine.”  

Her confidence is oddly reassuring, and you relax a little as she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder.  

“What if they wake up early?” you ask, still not entirely convinced.  

She snorts. “I’ll sneak back before they do. Relax, loser. I’m not leaving yet.”  

The idea of her staying here, curled up next to you, makes your chest tighten in a way you don’t entirely understand. You glance down at her, and she catches your gaze, raising an eyebrow.  

“What?” she asks, her voice softer now.  

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but the small smile that tugs at your lips says otherwise.  

“Okay, let's change these sheets before we watch the movie,” says Yujin clapping her hands and getting up from the bed. “You need to wash them in secret tomorrow, don't forget.”

— 

After changing the sheets and Yujin brushing her teeth (and yes, she used your toothbrush), the two of you are in bed again, still naked, at Yujin's insistence. According to her, she loves the feeling of the soft blanket fabric against her bare skin.

You adjust the laptop on the bed, propping it up on a pillow so you both can see. "Alright, but if you start singing 'Hakuna Matata,' I swear..." you tease, giving her a playful nudge.

Yujin grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'll sing it alright. You'll be joining in by the end, just watch."

As the movie starts, you can't shake the surreal feeling of the whole situation. Here you are, watching The Lion King with Yujin, your new stepsister, both of you naked and sticky from what just went down. 

It's fucking weird, but also... kind of nice.

You glance down at her, her head resting on your shoulder. Her eyes are glued to the screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looks so different like this—relaxed, almost innocent. It's a far cry from the smirking, foul-mouthed girl who was jerking you off with her foot just minutes ago.

About halfway through the movie, you feel her hand creep onto your thigh, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. It's distracting, but you don't want her to stop. You cover her hand with yours, giving it a squeeze. She looks up at you, her smile softening even more.

"This is nice," she murmurs.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. "Yeah, it is."

As the movie continues, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is fucked up, no doubt about it. But it also feels... right. Like this is exactly where you're both meant to be, at least for tonight.

You push aside the nagging thoughts about what this means, about what happens next. For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this strange, perfect little bubble you've found yourselves in.

As the credits roll, Yujin looks up at you, her eyes searching. "So, what the hell are we going to do with this?" she asks, her voice soft.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I don't know. But I'm glad you're here."

She smiles back, her hand squeezing yours. "Me too, loser. Me too.”

[pipthepiper]

You could make a Yandere Virgin Viktor, what he would be like if he were in love with his new assistant, but he hasn't declared himself yet..

( I don't know if you make yandere characters, if you can't do that I understand and I'm sorry for this request )

yandere!virgin!viktor who knows — just knows — you’ll be the one to take his virginity the instant he lays eyes on you.

he’s been waiting. waiting so long for that special someone to show up — the someone who he could give himself to wholly and completely, with absolutely no regrets.

and you are that person. viktor just knows it.

it’s in the soft way you speak to him, the way your gaze lingers on him from time to time, the occasions when you subtly slide against his front to allow your plump rear to graze his cock — you want to take it, it’s so obvious; you want him to completely lose his mind as he buries himself inside your pussy over and over, as he loses every bit of his innocence with each drag and slide. as you take it from him.

you want to be the one to fuck him up entirely. and anyone could see it, right? it’s not just viktor.

he’s sure sky can see it, more than positive that jayce can too — doesn’t miss the way jayce sometimes bristles with jealousy when you snuggle yourself into viktor’s personal space and talk so low it’s like you’re whispering to him (and only him); and viktor doesn’t even try to shake off the satisfaction it makes him feel.

you’re his as much as he’s yours.

and that’s why you don’t pull away when his hand “accidentally” grazes your soft chest as he reaches past you to grab something. it’s why you don’t bring any focus to the way his eyes practically undress you, despite the fact that you’re very aware of it. it’s why you lean into his touch, why you hug him for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else at the end of the day, why you smile and giggle so much when he talks to you.

viktor knows it, but something is holding him back; maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s doubt, maybe it’s his complete lack of experience — maybe it’s all three rolled into one. even the irrefutable fact that it’s destined by the stars fails to give him the courage to act upon it.

but one day, he will. one day he will bury himself deep inside that hot cunt of yours and lose every bit of sanity and innocence within your walls; he’ll fuck you so good that all the waiting will be worth it. he’ll give you his everything until you cry from how painfully deep his love is embedded into your bones.

he’ll make you see the truth.

but for now, viktor will simply fuck his own fist while he fantasizes about you; eagerly biting into his lip and craving the day he can merge your realities together to create one entirely new, entirely unique to just you two.

because that’s how it’s meant to be. viktor knows it.

actually my first time ever writing yandere pls be gentle </3 i actually really enjoyed writing this so thank you so much for requesting! gotta get back to the other drafts i have so many jfc thank you all for reading and i love you so much!

[nerdygirlramblings]

baby trapping(?) the 141

inspired by this post from @beloveds-embrace

It was an open secret on base that the 141 were together together. You'd occasionally see one of them - usually Gaz, sometimes Price, often Soap, never Ghost - taking someone to their barracks after a night out. You'd watch them pick up men and women, soldiers and civvies, fit and plush, but never the same person twice.

Whoever was lucky enough to join one of the 141 for a night always looked well-fucked the next day. And every one of them was tight-lipped about what happened. They'd never even confirm if sex was had, despite how obvious it was.

You're out at the pub when the 141 come crashing through the door. You heard they'd gotten in this afternoon, back from a semi-succesful mission: no one injured, intel collected, bad guys still at large. You didn't expect them to be out tonight, had figured they'd be tired or stuck in debriefs for a while.

It's clear right away they're on the hunt. Soap sidles up to two women at the bar sipping something pink in a martini glass, arms draping quickly over their shoulders. Gaz laughs as he joins a few guys playing darts, smile a little too calculated.

You're surprised when Price and Ghost are sat on either side of you.

Price nods to the bartender, who puts down a pint of something dark in front of him and Ghost, gestures to you, and says, "Amaretto sour for her." You have no idea how he knows your favorite drink. You didn't think he even knew who you were. He glances at you from the corner of his eye and asks, "'avin a good time, doll?"

You really have no idea how to respond to that. You try, and fail, to make small talk without making a fool of yourself, but it's hard when Ghost keeps chuckling - at you, not with you. He's slipped his mask up only enough to sip his stout and you try not to stare at the small glimpses you get of his face.

A few drinks later, Price puts his large hand on your knee, and you feel the warmth penetrate your slacks. "Seen you on base, doll. Glad to find you here tonight." To say you're shocked is an understatement. "What say we head out, yeah?" He drops a few notes on the bar and gently steers you up and off your barstool. You feel Ghost stand up on your other side.

As Price herds you to the door, you notice Soap and Gaz have abandoned the people they were with and have fallen into step with your little group. They get you into their vehicle, snug in the backseat between Soap and Kyle while Price drives.

Soap leans his shoulder against yours and puts his mouth to your ear. "Lass, 'm sure glad we saw you. Been hopin' fur it fur weeks." You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. Gaz drapes his arm across the seatback, heat radiating across your neck, but he doesn't touch you. Instead, you see him run his fingers through Soap's mohawk, and you squeeze your thighs together a little. You never thought something like, well, whatever this looks like, would be something you would be part of.

You're back at their barracks faster than you thought possible. Getting past the door and through the common areas is a blur. Instead your brain stutters on the feel of Price's mouth on yours, his beard scraping against your cheek and neck as he kisses down your throat.

There are hands at your waist, unbuttoning your trousers and sliding them and your underwear down your legs. Another set of hands is tugging your shirt up over your head. Once you're naked you feel multiple sets of lips kiss and nip: teeth tug on your ear, a tongue laves against a nipple, stubble rubs along your inner thigh. Big hands, fingers rough with callouses and bluntly bitten nails, roam your body. And through it all the praises whispered "good girl" and "so sweet" and "made fer us" carry you into oblivion.

It never occurred to you the 141 were the Three Musketeers: anyone they brought back was one for all and all for one. You understand why those before you believed in "don't kiss and tell." You leave their barracks feeling shell-shocked. It carries you home and into work the next day, where you fully expect things to go back to normal.

And they do. Mostly. Until a vase shows up on your desk two days later with nothing but a bar of soap on the card. The blooms are your birth month flower. Two more days pass before you hear Price's voice in the hallway. You peek your head out as he turns your way, and his smile beams. "There you are, doll. Brought your favorite," he says, holding take away. And not only is it your favorite dish from your favorite cuisine, its from the little shop you like best in town.

You really know something's different when Friday rolls around. Gaz corners you as you leave medical, and before you realize what you've agreed to, you're following him into the 141's barracks.

This is unheard of. They never bring the same person back twice. You don't plan to question it, though, just ride it out as long as they're interested. Six weeks of wooing - you couldn't think of another word for the presents and flowers and meals and conversations and the sex, god the sex - fly past before Price breaks the news of their impending deployment.

They ask you to wait for them, to be part of them, when they get back. It's on the tip of your tongue to say yes. You want this, you want them, but you hesitate. They've always been the 141, and you're an outsider. You leave your response vague and hope they hear the desire in your tone.

A month into their deployment and you're struggling to sleep. You can't keep food down. You regret how open you left things. But it's more than that. An itch in the back of your brain drives you to ask a nurse friend on base to discretely check your hCG levels. The response is what you hoped feared.

You don't know how you'll face them if they ever return. You were worried about getting between them before, but this is ten times worse. You can't imagine how this will change how they are with each other. You're carrying someone's baby. It never occurs to you to do anything other than raise it yourself.

You make it on base another two months, and there's no word about the 141. But as you begin to show, rumors start dogging your steps. People knew you'd been involved with various members of the 141 before they'd deployed. Now they're whispering about whether you even know who the father is.

As a civilian employee, you're a contractor on base, so you simply ask your employer to find you a job in town. You want to leave entirely, but your heart won't let you take their baby far, at least not until you can determine whose it is and at least let them know.

You don't expect them to be part of the baby's life, but it isn't fair to disappear when you know word will make it around base and they have the means to find you anyway. You figure this will allow for a clean break before any fallout.

Months go by, and you hear from friends still on base that the 141 came back but haunted. They'd had a few close calls on this last mission: injuries that could have been prevented, stealth ops where they were the ones being ambushed. Things that shouldn't have happened. Things that made them think long and hard about what the future held for them.

Now that they're back, you expect someone to track you down, find your location in town, but no one comes. You vaguely notice the large home on the edge of town, the run-down one with a massive garden, slowly starts looking better.

Two weeks after your little girl is born, the knock you never thought would come finally does. You carry your bundle to the door and clutch her tighter when you see the 141 through the peep hole. You open the door and wordlessly let them in.

The expressions on their faces range from awe to fear. You're sure your face displays the same. Finally, it's Price who speaks. "We should-a been 'ere, doll. Can ya forgive us?"

You know you're gaping and can barely bring yourself to nod.

"We meant it," Ghost tells you. "We want you. And now we want you both." It's more words than you've heard him speak at once, and without prompting.

Soap looks at you with such unbridled longing, reaching out his hands not for you but for your - their - baby that you don't even think before passing her over. As he cradles her carefully, Price chimes back in. "We bought a place, big, on the edge 'o town. We're not retiring, but we want to do more than look one day ahead. And in all those days, there's you, you and this miracle."

Finally, Gaz pins you with a look. "Come be ours, dove. You've been what we were missin' before we even knew we were missin' anything."

This time your answer is anything but vague.

[bunnis-monsters]

begging .. pleadign for a krampus drabble 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

You’ve been so damn bratty this year, a naughty, bad girl.

Or, that’s what Krampus puts on his list so he’s justified in what he’s got planned. He had been craving you, keeping a close eye on his favorite person throughout the year.

Every year you’ve been a good girl, helping out your family, excelling at your work, and even giving your time to help those in need when you could… so why were you standing face to face with the furry beast as he climbed through your window?

“W-who are you? I’ll call the-“

Before you could continue, you were picked up easily, carried to your bedroom. Krampus threw you on the bed and unbuckled his belt, pulling out his cock and pumping it a few times as he pulled your hips towards him.

“You ain’t calling anyone, princess. You’ve been a bad girl, and if you want a present you’ll take your punishment.”

You yelped as he pulled your panties to the side, giving your pussy a slap before sinking his fingers into your cunt. “Gonna have to stretch this out, princess. Too damn tight, you’re sucking my fingers in.”

You could feel him curl his fingers inside of you, his long tongue latching onto your clit. “Such a naughty girl, getting this wet during your punishment. You’re liking this too much…”

But you could hear the purr in his voice, he was enjoying this far more than you were. Krampus rubbed the tip of his cock against your tight hole, laughing when you squirmed.

“It’s t-too big, y-“

He speared you on his cock, groaning as you cried out in shock. You struggled, whimpering as he began to move.

You let out another yelp as he smacked your ass, leaving a red handprint on your ass cheek. It was embarrassing how wet his spanking was making you, each slap making you moan and drool like a whore.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so well, princess. Just be my good little whore and you’ll get your present.”

You clenched around him, and he leaned over to groan into your ear. “That’s it, here’s your present, baby.”

You felt him swell up inside of you, cum shooting into your womb and filling your belly. It felt warm and sticky as it flowed down your thighs, making a mess on the bed.

As you recovered, he turned you over, groping at your breast.

“Mmph… maybe you deserve another present, princess.”

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop

[3liza]

FAQ:

actually i dont know if these questions are frequently asked because i do not read the notes on posts that blow up as a matter of policy. but if i was coming into this blind, these are the questions that i personally would have about this.

Q: what's the alternative to Honey? i need my treats and deals

A: there are no "alternatives". the Karma extension is the same scam. the Pie extension is the same scam but pretending to be a man-in-the-middle adblocker and also started by the same people who made Honey. just google "[retailer] coupon', you aren't going to do better than the coupons you find that way. do not install coupon extensions or shopping extensions, the ENTIRE BUSINESS MODEL IS A SCAM. any app or browser extension claiming to do what honey does is a scam by design

Q: I don't care about "influencers", they are all evil

A: thats valid. in the context of this case the word "influencer" is applying to a lot of people you would not group with Mr. Beast. honey is stealing referral credits from literally everyone, including you if you just give your friend a DoorDash signup code. if your friend has Honey on their browser, Honey will attempt to hijack the sale/signup during checkout, and you will not get the bonus DoorDash promised you for giving out the signup code. it doesn't matter if youre a professional youtuber or not. also, let's be clear here, your favorite 1000-sub microniche artist cannot make a living any other way anymore. youtube does not pay minimum wage, much less a living wage, unless you get into the upper thirds of viewership by sheer luck. the vast majority of the people acting happy to be there on your screen while you eat cereal are not making ends meet without participating in affiliate marketing

Q: is this actually illegal? are they going to get into trouble?

A: answers to both questions are going to depend on whether anyone goes after them successfully. but if i were a betting man no i would not bet on PayPal Corporation facing any blowback about this whatsoever. im guessing all of this behavior is prominently covered in their TOS which no one reads but everyone agrees to. whether TOSes that no one reads are legally binding or not is a complicated legal question that has only just started to be litigated

Q: what else is going on?

A: the link above will take you to MegaLag's youtube video on this issue, which was released as part 1 of 3. the other videos arent out yet but it also appears Honey has also been running a variation of Yelp Extortion on anyone selling anything (basically a protection racket, Yelp waits for small businesses to get bad reviews [or plants them, its unclear] and then starts calling the business dozens of times a day to "offer" the small business a "membership" which will "allow them to control what appears on their Yelp page". ive worked at two places that were targeted by this one), and also monitoring all shopping carts in every browser where it's installed and stealing employee discount codes and internal-only vendor discount codes and then giving them out to random customers. this has been hinted at but will likely not be addressed until video 2 or 3

Q: why should i care about this when i hate everyone who runs a business of any size, is an influencer, sells stuff online, etc

A: watch the actual video for the explanation but honey is also just hiding coupons from you. i mean it just doesnt work. this is why i never used it. i installed it once, it didnt bring up any coupons i found easily by googling or a newsletter or whatever, and i went "oh this is a scam" and ditched it. it probably worked when it was new, the wedge end of the scams always have to work for a while to get in the door.

and i mean there's "small business owners" and then theres small business owners. i'm a subsistence artist, for a while now i've been studying the youtube economy and cultural shift for artists like myself and concluded i'm going to have to start doing this kind of video stuff to survive. don't make me flash my badge about this, you wont read it anyway, the short version is this referral-hijacking is a way for Actual Evil Megacorporation PayPal to steal money BACK from creators of any size and use everyone who uses Honey as a human battery farm to harvest ad money that you tried to hand to someone else. i dont like that the majority of the subsistence you can even make online is anchored to influencing, referrals, affiliate programs and ads. everyone hates it. no one actually likes Raid Shadow Legends. but you either get paid from advertising or you dont get paid. thats why it matters that PayPal is hijacking affiliate links. it is no different than PayPal walking up and taking the dollar bill you put in the guitar case in front of a busker

Q: how did everyone miss this for so long? A: LinusTechTips apparently knew but didn't bother publicizing it, which is yet another bad look for them. it was apparently "known" iwithin some small online business circles but never blew up for some reason, probably because once you learn anything about how affiliate marketing and ads and clicks and so on actually work, it wouldnt occur to you at all that this was weird, because it's technically not, the entire ad economy works this way basically

if you have the Honey browser extension installed, uninstall it immediately. big big story broke on youtube today strongly indicating that Honey has been massively defrauding basically everyone who does any business with them at every level, including influencers, customers, and actual retailers.

the short version of ONE of the alleged crimes is that they've been hijacking referral links and codes. if you have honey installed on your browser at all, and you use any referral code from anyone, there is a high probability honey will swap out the referral link identifier for their own even if they don't provide a coupon at checkout.

they also are just lying to you, and hiding coupons that very much exist. they're completely fraudulent

paypal bought honey in 2019 for 4 billion, so paypal has been strip mining the influencer economy for 5 years now. the amount of money that's been essentially stolen is unfathomable

[imtryingbuck]

My Saviour

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Buckys just received some news from the love of his life.

Word count: 6,269

Warnings: angst. fluff. suicidal thoughts. Bucky’s past mentioned. insecurities. scars mentioned. Bucky being madly in love. reader being an angel. past cheating and domestic abuse. pregnancy (it’s me im sorry) me not knowing anything about courts/sentencing.

Translation: ты мой спаситель - you’re my saviour (if wrong take it up with google translation)

Masterlist

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there to see the progress he was slowly making. Wished to know if his best friend was proud of him.

But most importantly he wished Steve chose to stay with him and Sam so he could have met the person who brought him back to life, who brought his long existence actual meaning other than jumping from fight to fight. He knew Steve would have loved her and probably would have thanked her for everything.

But sadly Steve went to live a different life without him so he had to deal with Sam all alone.

For a year after Steve left Bucky struggled to go out, he struggled to find his path in a world that he wasn’t suppose to be apart of. He should have died that day when he fell from the train.

His therapist tried to get him to go out into the world and meet people, Bucky would say ‘next time’ until Dr Raynor eventually gave up on trying.

For a whole year Bucky moved with the motion, just existing, alive and breathing but just barely holding on to that invisible thread.

That was until six years ago. Six years ago everything changed.

** six years ago **

“Buck please-“

“Don’t call me that! How many times do I have to tell you”

“Oh I’m sorry Sir Bucky! But like I said please just come with me? It would do you some good to get out of your apartment, wait Bucky are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m listening. I do get out-“

“To see your therapist and that’s it”

“I’m still going out aren’t I?” Bucky responds snappily, rolling his eyes as Sam groans through the speaker.

“Please Bucky, it’s just coffee!”

“God sake, okay. I’ll be there. Bye” He really didn’t want to go out and get a coffee with Sam but he ended agreeing knowing that he would not have stopped, probably even going as far as coming to his apartment just to drag him out of there. Since Steve left, poor Bucky had been left all alone on with Sam, okay it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be but still he had been left with a man that annoyed him more than anything.

Groaning inwardly he slides his phone into his jeans front pocket before shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, as he walked down the street he kept his head down so he didn’t make eye contact with anyone walking by. It was safer that way. For him and those around him.

“James Barnes” he spoke roughly to the receptionist who made a habit of always pushing her chest out so he could get an eye full of her cleavage.

“Take a seat” she responds batting her eyelashes with her chest pushed out. He thought after the tenth time of him rolling his eyes at her not so subtle attempt at flirting she would get the hint.

He was not interested.

“S-sorry is this seat taken?” A soft timid voice from a woman pulled Bucky out of his staring competition he was having with the fake plant by the water dispenser.

“Huh?”

“Is-is anyone sitting here?”

“No. No you can sit”

“T-thank you” Bucky smiled and nodded softly instantly curious as to why she was also seeing a therapist. Bucky found himself getting lost in the smell of her perfume, the sweet smell creeping up his nostrils and into his senses. His eyes focused on the slow motion of her leg closest to his bouncing in time with the ticking of the clock.

“S-sir?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you um are you J-James Barnes?”

Great just great. She knows who he is and from the way she stutters his name she clearly knows what he’s done and is scared of him. “Yes that’s me” he finally answers.

“Y-your names b-been called sir” she points over to where the receptionist is and sees her waiting for him to follow her down the hallway to Dr Raynors office.

Oh. Oh okay he got it wrong. “Oh, thank you”

“Y-your welcome sir”

Bucky offers her a small smile that she responds with the same and follows Lila down the corridor. He has no idea that the small smile he gave her meant a great deal to her. Nor does he know that she talks about him to her therapist that was two doors down from his.

Neither one realises that one small smile would make such a massive impact on their lives.

Over the course of four months, twice a week Bucky would see the woman whose name he had yet to know, every time they sat patiently in the waiting room they would find themselves sitting next to each other. Always quietly asking if the seat next to them was taken. Even if there were other available seats.

Dr Raynor had quite enjoyed hearing about the woman who seemed to have taken residence in Bucky’s mind. And Dr Harlow was proud of hearing that her patient was seeing someone new. She laughed when her patient blushed and began stumbling over her words that she was not seeing this man in that sense.

Bucky walked in to the waiting room expecting to find the woman whose presence he had become content being around only to frown at seeing the two seats that became unofficially theirs empty. The whole time he waited for her but she never showed. His name was called, as he followed Lila he kept turning his head back to the double doors in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of her. Walking into the room he frowned at seeing Dr Raynor and another woman sitting down. This was new.

“James, this is Dr Harlow.”

“Hi?”

“Hello James”

“What’s wrong? I didn’t do-“

“No, no James it’s… well you know the woman you’ve been telling me about?” Raynor cuts him off and waits for him to nod “well Dr Harlow is her therapist, Y/n was rushed in to the hospital early hours this morning-“

“Y/n? That’s her name? Wait… what happened to her? Is she okay? Where is-“

“James, she’s okay. We can’t disclose anything about what happened but-well you see Y/n has been talking about you in her sessions, nothing bad don’t worry, and you’ve been talking about her so we agreed that we should let you know”

Bucky sat there staring at his doctor as his mind raced with questions. She was in the hospital? Her name suited her perfectly. Why was she in the hospital? Who hurt her? She talked about him? ‘Nothing bad’ the good doctor stressed. Is she okay? “James?”

“Yeah erm, are you sure she’s okay?”

“Yes. We, well we talked to each other” Raynor points at between herself and Dr Harlow “and we think it would be a great opportunity for you to talk to her, maybe offer her some support-“

“Why me? Aren’t you two the therapists?”

“Yes we are but James I don’t think you realise how much those smiles and a few quiet words mean to Y/n. Nor she with you, now in my opinion I think it would be nice if the pair of you had someone to lean on when you don’t have a session.”

Thinking it over for a few minutes he nodded and agreed. Dr Harlow said Y/n had mentioned that she felt safe with him which made his heart race faster than usual at hearing that a complete stranger felt safe around him when he was so use to it being different. No one felt safe around him, hell he didn’t even feel safe with himself but yet she did. Not even ten seconds after the door closed behind Dr Harlow did Bucky start questioning his doctor about what had happened or where she was so he could go and see her, he just wanted to make sure she was fine but Raynor held strong and didn’t back down from the harsh glare he was sending towards her. She never did though to be honest.

Ten minutes later Dr Raynor thought it was best to cut their session short, though promised him that she would make out that they did the full hour.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks it had been since he was told that she was in the hospital and he hadn’t seen her. That day he thought it wouldn’t be any different to the other days where he expected to see her, until he turned his back on Lila who thankfully now took the hint that he wasn’t interested in her. His eyes squinted at seeing someone sitting in their seats.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked quietly, hoping that the woman in front of him would raise her head and smile as she said ‘no you can sit’. And when she did. Well… let’s just say that what he wanted to do to whoever had caused such pain and suffering to his Y/n he wouldn’t have pinned it on the Winter Soldier. No because Bucky Barnes would have happily admitted to shedding blood that wasn’t his own. Happily and proudly.

“N-no you can sit” she responds with that smile he sees when he closes his eyes at night.

“Doll-“ Lila cuts him off by calling his name signalling that it was his time, he nods at her then faces Y/n. “After your session I’m going to be waiting right here okay, and I want to take you for a coffee.”

“O-okay” Y/n says with a shy smile. Bucky smiles back before going up to Lila, eyebrows burrowing when she doesn’t lead him down the corridor. And that’s when it finally hits him. He had never seen her doing that to any of the other patients.

He tells Dr Raynor that Y/n was back, told her the bruises that littered her beautiful face, told her what he had said to her and her response. “Go easy on her James, don’t try and rush her into telling you all of her secrets okay” but in the same breath suggests a nice place for him to take her.

Forty five minutes after his appointment had ended he was now sat a cross the table from Y/n with a black coffee in front of him and a hot chocolate in front of her.

“You know what I’m going to ask you don’t you?” He says with a gentle smile, she nods. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-fine now sir”

“Bucky, call me Bucky. How long was you in the hospital for?”

“A few d-days, Dr Harlow told me that she told you what happened”

“Not exactly they just said that you was in the hospital, wanted me to know since you talk about me all the time” winking at her when she blushed.

“I-I d-don’t”

“All the time they said, said that your obsessed with me”

“Well y-you talk a-about me too!”

“Me? Never!” Bucky was ninety nine point nine percent sure that he had died right there and then and went to heaven when she laughed. He was sure of it. Her laugh could only described as angelic. God he wanted to hear it again and again until he dying breath.

“I-it was my ex” she whispered. She wasn’t stupid she knew what he wanted to ask.

“Where is he now?”

“Jail still, h-have to go court in-in two weeks. My lawyer said h-he’ll be going to prison for a long time, he broke the protection order an-and well this” she said gesturing to her face.

“You had a protection order against him?”

“Yes, throughout our relationship he was abusive the o-only way I managed to get out was because he had been cheating on me with a friend of mine, he left me a-and I was so happy because it meant that I didn’t have to suffer no more but the friend didn’t want him anymore because the fun of sneaking around had gone”. Taking a deep breath before sipping on her hot chocolate she continued. “He broke into my apartment and attacked me because I said no to taking him back, police was called by my neighbour and I got the restraining order against him because I could do that then, he went to prison and h-he got out three weeks ago, he broke into my apartment again and did this b-but the police arrived quickly as I already rang them”

“Doll… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now”

“It’s not okay Y/n”

“It is what it is, he’ll be going to prison for a long time and I’ll be able to live my life again.” She smiled.

“W-when is it that you have to go to court?”

“In two weeks, why?”

“Can I come with you? To offer my support” With her lack of response he knew he overstepped. Of course she isn’t going to want the former Winter Soldier to come with her to face another monster in her life. He’s about to apologise until she smiles once more and nods.

“I would really like that. Thank you Bucky” Bucky smiled and nodded.

Their second cup of hot drinks had slowly grown cold as the conversation flowed effortlessly between the pair. Bucky loved the way she no longer stuttered or stumbled over her words the longer they spoke. She was about to say something when a bang from the window startled the pair of them.

“Great.” He muttered.

“D-do you know him?”

“Who the crazy guy with his face squashed up against the window? Unfortunately” Y/n giggled at his words then looked at the man who did in fact have his face squashed up against the window, his eyes moving back and forth between herself and Bucky. Waving shyly at the man who waved excitedly back Bucky rolled his eyes. “You do realise you’ve just basically invited him in, don’t you? Oh see now he’s entering.”

“Stop being mean”

“Didn’t expect to see you here Barnes. Hi I’m Sam, Bucky’s best friend in the whole world”

“Hi Sam, I’m Y/n” she shakes his hand and smiles at Bucky who sits there rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Scoot over then Bucky. So how did you two meet?”

Bucky looked at Y/n to see if she was comfortable with letting him know, she just smiled. “We met in therapy”

“Oh, are you a therapist?”

“No, no I’m a patient”

“Does it help?”

“Sam!”

“What? I’m just asking”

Giggling at the two men “it’s fine Bucky, it has been helping. My therapist is really nice and understanding”

“That’s great. So did you two meet from group therapy or?”

“No we actually sat next to each other in the waiting room”

“Aw that’s so cute!” Sam winks at her whilst Bucky grumbled under his breath.

Sam ends up convincing Bucky and Y/n in getting something to eat not that he puts up to much of a fight as both of them were hungry themselves. Once again conversation flows effortlessly, even Bucky joined in with the laughter.

After food was eaten and an argument between the three about who was going to pay - Y/n winning when the two men were still arguing over the bill - they walked her all the way to her apartment. Bucky’s heart clenched painfully seeing her front door with dried blood on it. Sam noticed too and smiled sadly at his friend.

Two whole weeks passed, in those two weeks Sam kept “bumping” into the pair, the three of them would walk around talking about their lives, both of the men noticing that she was very vague about her life but neither one pushed her into saying more.

Today was the day where Y/n was going to court, as she stood outside she checked her watch worrying that Bucky wasn’t going to show up, not like he needed to he didn’t owe her anything anyway. She turned around to head up the many steps when her names called, turning she sees Bucky running over towards her. Sam following closely behind.

“Hey, hi, sorry we’re late I tried to shake this one off but he’s persist-“

“No it’s okay, I-I really appreciate the pair of you coming today. It means so much”

“You’re welcome sunshine, you’ve got our support” Sam smiles wrapping his arms around her squeezing slightly.

“Y/n? We need to go in” her lawyer says from the large brown double doors.

Sam nods to the pair and heads up the steps, Bucky smiled “me and Sam are here for you, it’s going to be okay”

“I’m scared about seeing him again b-but I-I can do it” Bucky’s hand reached out to hers that shook.

“I’ve got you, I promise”

“T-th-thank you Bucky”

Hand in hand they head up to where Sam was waiting patiently and followed the lawyers lead into the courtroom. Bucky’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing from anger as Y/n bravely stood in the witness stand and gave her statement, hearing all the things that the bastard did to her made him want to attack him. Sam knew what was going through his friends head, honestly? He wasn’t going to be far behind him.

Three hours later her ex received a ten year sentence. Bucky watched as her body relaxes by hearing the judges words. He and Sam smiles at her when she turns around, her eyes moving along the rows to find where they sat, smiling as soon as she lands on them.

After leaving the courthouse Bucky took her hand in his again and the three of them went to the restaurant that Sam had suggested, in a way to celebrate Y/n’s new found freedom. Neither one of the men mentioned about what they heard or the photos they saw in the courtroom, other than telling her that they were proud of her bravery.

Six months had passed before any of them had realised, both of the therapists were proud of seeing completely different people sitting in front of them in their sessions. Bucky opened up more and so did Y/n, not only to their therapists but to each other.

The knock on the door pulled Bucky away from his bickering with Sam as his friend argued that pineapple on pizza was nice. “I’ll ask Y/n and see what she says! Hey doll”

“Hey, sorry I’m late”

“You’re not, don’t worry. Hey does pineapple belong on pizza?” He asked taking her coat and hanging it up on the hook.

“I’ve tried it and I like it” she waves to Sam.

“See! Sam I told you it was nice”

“But you said-“

“Shut up. Sam said that it was wrong but I said it was nice”

“No yo-“

“So how was your day?” Sam looked at Y/n mouthing ‘he’s lying’ making her giggle, she goes on to tell them all about her day which had Bucky hanging on to every word she spoke.

Halfway through the film Sam had picked Y/n went to the bathroom, Bucky eyed Sam curiously as the latter was sitting there grinning at him. “What?”

“Whens the wedding?”

“What wedding?”

“Yours and Y/ns”

“We’re not getting married? Why are you smiling like that?”

“If you say so, hey when are you going to tell her you love her?”

Choking on his beer Bucky shook his head “I don’t love her Sam”

“Okay, how about you telling her that you’re in love with her?”

“Sam shut up.”

“Nope. So when are you going to tell her?”

“I’m not going too alright. It’s just-it doesn’t matter alright just drop it”

“Drop what?” Y/n asked walking back into the living room.

“Pineapple being on pizza” Bucky says quickly his eyes going wide looking at Sam.

Laughing she shakes her head sitting back down next to Bucky “we’re not having this argument anymore boys”

“Try telling him that Y/n/n” now it’s Bucky’s turn to have a grin on his lips as Sam’s eyes squint at the pair.

“Sunshine has Bucky told you yet?”

“Told me what?”

“That he loves y-“

“Yogurts.”

“You… love yogurts?” She asked him with her eyebrow raised, Sam struggles to contain his laughter seeing Bucky become a stuttering mess.

“Yes… I love yogurts, problem?”

“Nope no problem here” If Y/n wasn’t snuggling into his left side Bucky would have throttled Sam.

The knock on her door startled her from the tv screen in front of her - it didn’t help that she was watching a horror and that a jump scare was about to happen when the knock came.

“Bucky? Hey, are you okay?”

“I-I was just in the neigh-neighbourhood a-and I thought that I’d st-stop by”

“Yeah come in, James is everything alright?”

“Yeah, w-why?”

“It’s just that you’re stuttering… and I’m just worried that’s all”

“S-someone said something about me, it-it wasn’t good” he admitted twisting the bottle cap from the water bottle she had gave him.

“What did they say?”

“It doesn’t matter, I-I just wanted to see you-you know because I was in the neighbourhood”

The truth was he wasn’t, he had finally listened to Dr Raynors advice and go out. His plan was to go down the corner store to get some essentials in. Get in, get out that was easy and simple. He could do it. Until he heard two men who were talking clearly and loudly about him their conversation attracting the attention of others passing by them. And that’s when he realised his second mistake that day, the first mistake being to agree to go out, the second being that he forgot his gloves. The comments were harsh and unkind.

His first response was to put his head down shoving his hands into his pockets and walk all the way to Y/n’s apartment. Even if it was a forty minute walk.

Bucky needed to see her, he didn’t care if they sat in silence just as long as he was with her, he didn’t care if she forced him to watch that terrible tv show.

“Come on let’s watch something and have cuddles”

He was safe with her. Calmer. Happier. More comfortable and relaxed.

“Have you asked her?”

“No Samuel I haven’t”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her today”

“Why?”

“Because she had her session with Dr Harlow”

“Why?”

“Sam, I’m going to punch you in the face”

“Wh-“

Bucky rolled his eyes and put the phone call down. He couldn’t bear to hear why one more time. He was too busy going over what he was going to ask Y/n, so many things could go wrong she could say no, it would be weird as they’ve only known each other for a year now. She’s going to say no. Of course she is. He can’t ask, he just ca-

“Buck? Open up my arms hurt”

Buck. Buck, the name Sam was not happy about hearing slipping out of her mouth. He had tried years to call him that but always got shot down. It wasn’t fair.

“Buck? Shit are you not in?”

“No! No I’m in doll, hi, hello, hi”

“Hi, hello, hi to you too” Bucky laughs taking the bags off her arms carefully, then takes them into the kitchen. A month ago Y/n moved in to his apartment with him after the landlord put up the rent making her struggle to keep paying the higher rent, Bucky caught her looking for a new place to live when he suggested her living with him, she first denied but Bucky swore and promised that he was more than happy to let her stay with him, she ended up agreeing, Bucky could have cried with happiness all night but managed to contain himself.

“Did you get everything?”

“Nope, forgot absolutely everything you asked for” sticking her tongue out at him, he laughed.

God he loves her weirdness.

“So I- god sake Sam, hold on pretty girl. What now Sam? No I haven’t. Because she’s just walked in. You’re so needy do you know that? Okay I’ll ask now. Yes I’ll do it whilst you’re on the phone. Y/n, do you want to come to Louisiana with Sam and I?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we’re going for a week to see his sister and nephews and we want you to come too”

“Will his sister mind me being there?”

“No. So?”

“Are you guys really sure?”

“Absolutely”

“O-okay, that would be nice”

His smile doesn’t just take up his face but Sam’s as well “good, good. Did you hear Sam? Okay see you later” chucking his phone on to the counter he turns back to Y/n. “We leave tomorrow”

“Tomorrow? Oh god okay, I’ll go and pack now”

Two days later they arrive in Louisiana after both men took it in turns to drive, it was long and tiring for them but Y/n loved it. She had never been out of New York before so she was taking in the sights. When Bucky wasn’t driving he would watch her from his seat, seeing her face lit up made his heart tingle.

“Are you sure she won’t mind me being here?”

“I promise, she’s excited to meet you” Sam reassures her as he pulls up the gravelled driveway.

Greeting his sister and nephews, Bucky doing the same Sarah turned her attention to Y/n instantly engulfing her in a warm embrace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you”

“You too” she smiled softly.

Later that night after putting their things away they all sat outside watching as the sun started to set, Sam was manning the grill and Bucky were chasing the two boys around making them squeal with laughter and excitement. Sarah and Y/n were talking when Sarah asked the woman sitting in front of her something that made her choke and splutter on her drink.

“W-we aren’t to-together”

“Are you sure? The way he looks at you makes me think differently”

“No, no we’re just friends. Plus he wouldn’t like me so”

“Do you like him?”

“I-yes. But I would rather have him as my friend than not have him in my life”

“Tell him how you feel”

“No I can’t do that!”

“You can”

“No I can’t”

“Can’t what?” Bucky’s voice comes from behind her. Sarah has to stifle her laughter as Y/ns eyes went as wide as saucers.

“I-erm nothing.”

“Okay? Hey there’s a crab down on the beach that the boys have found, want to come and see it?”

“O-okay” Bucky smiles and holds out his hand for her to take, helping her stand he keeps his hand in hers as they walk towards the two boys.

“Is she in love with him?”

“I think so, hopefully they’ll admit their feelings because they’re so cute together” Sarah says with her eyes trained on the two fading figures, Sam smirks before flipping the burgers.

Later that night Y/n got startled when she went into the bathroom seeing Bucky standing motionless in front of the mirror. “Shit! Bucky you scared- hey are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-I’m not okay Y/n/n” Y/n moved so quickly wrapping her arms around him, both falling on the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” the sobs wracked through his body making her body shake. She kept repeating those words like a mantra.

“M-my hair”

“Your hair? What about it?”

“I-I want it gone, please, please help me g-get rid of it”

Her heart broke at hearing him sounding so small, in the whole year of knowing him he had always sounded so strong, and confident. Also she loved his hair and they both knew it, on nights where they cuddled up together on the couch watching movies her fingers would always end up playing with the soft strands of hair.

“A-are you sure?” feeling him nodding against her chest “okay, let me find some scissors and a clipper and I’ll do it for you okay?” Trying to stand was difficult especially since having a super soldier clinging to her. “Buck, I need to stand”

Finding the scissors was easy, it was just finding the clippers she had a difficult time coming up on. Cheering silently in triumph when she discovered them in the fourth draw. “Should we go outside so we don’t wake everyone up?”

“O-okay. Leave the light on Cass is scared of the dark, Sarah leaves the bathroom light on for him” Bucky whispered wrapping both of his hands around her free one.

Outside with only the porch light illuminating them, Y/n started cutting his hair the shorter it got the more Bucky started to relax. When it came to trimming his hair Bucky’s left arm reached around to tug on her waist, bringing her around to stand in between his legs, he smiled shyly up at her. Without thinking she leaned down as she placed her lips to his forehead. His arms snaked around the back of her legs squeezing lightly.

“I-it’s done, maybe Sam can fix it up later if it’s bad?”

“I bet y-you did a good job”

“Would you be mad if I said you had a massive bald spot right on the top of your head?”

He laughed and shook his head “no I won’t be mad”

“It’s a good job that there isn’t one isn’t there?”

“Y/n, thank you, i-it means a lot to me. Thank you”

“You don’t need to thank me. D-do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It was a nightmare. Just about my past” leading her over to the hammock on that swayed ever so lightly from the night breeze. “T-they did bad things to me, made me do worse”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it” she says squeezing his hand.

“They made me kill people, even when I completed the mission to their satisfaction they would still punish me and I never knew why. The chair was the worst, I-I did what I was told to do and I was still punished.”

Looking at the water he breathed deeply, he was about to tell her something to no one else knew, not even his therapist. “I-I’ve wanted to end my life since coming back from Wakanda b-b-but not since I met you I swear!”

“Oh Buck”

“It was easier to end it you know? But I couldn’t do it, I needed to try and make up for all the damage I caused.”

“Bucky it was-“

“It was though, wasn’t it? It was me the whole time”

“It wasn’t. Bucky you wasn’t in control of your own mind, your a good man, an incredible man - don’t scoff at me mister - you are, if you don’t believe me think about Sarah, even though I don’t know her all that well she seems to have a good sense of judgement, do you really think that she would let you be around her babies if she thought you was a bad person?”

Thinking her words over he had to agree with her words about Sarah even Sam wouldn’t let him anywhere near his sister and his nephews. Hell Tony wouldn’t have allowed him near his wife or daughter if they believed he was the monster that he still believed he was. “Y-you’re right”

Now it was her turn to think over the words from Sarah earlier that night. It was most likely going to blow up in her face and she was going to lose him as a friend forever but maybe just maybe Sarah could be right. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you were a bad person Buck”

The silence that followed was killing her. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

He however couldn’t believe his ears. Surely she was playing a trick on him. There was no way this perfect angel as he always described her would ever feel the same way as him. Surely.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I-I’ll go n-“

He cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, timid at first before they both gained their confidence their tongues dancing a slow dance together. Pulling away reluctantly Bucky leans his forehead against hers, both smiling widely at each other.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered.

Nothing else was said. Nothing else was needed to be said.

Sam walks on to the porch with his hot cup of coffee that morning, his feet faltering when he sees Bucky and Y/n curled up together on the hammock fast asleep. Pulling his phone out he took a photo of the pair before running back into the house showing Sarah the photo.

As soon as they were back in New York Bucky asked Y/n out on a date, then another and another until he asked her to be his girlfriend. And soon enough she had moved into his room with him.

The first time she saw him topless was when he came out of the bathroom wearing grey joggers, he thought she was still in the living room. He heard the quiet gasp, he looked up to see her standing there and his stomach dropped.

“Y/n-“

“Your body… did the gods sculpt you? I-is that, two, four, six yep that’s an eight pack, how do you get an eight pack?”

Hearing her words he blushed with a little chuckle. “T-the scars-“

“Beautiful”

“Don’t lie to me”

“I would never lie to you Buck, everything about you is beautiful”

That night they made love for the first time, each of them taking their time in admiring the scars that littered their bodies. The second she pressed her lips delicately against the rough, raised patch where skin meets metal he honestly thought his heart was going to stop beating.

“ты мой спаситель, did you know that?” he whispered one night placing kisses on her bare shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

“ты мой спаситель?”

“Yeah”

“It means… your smelly”

“No it doesn’t” she laughs.

“No your right, it means you’re my saviour”

“Buck-“

“You are Y/n/n, you’ve saved me you’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been before a-and I know I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for you”

“I’ll be with you until you want me to leave”

“So never” he laughed, pulling her body even closer to his. “I love you Y/n/n”

“I love you too Buck”

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there so he could tell the blond about how nervous he was. He imagined Steve’s reaction as he fixed his tie for the ninth time within five minutes.

A year had passed, on their year anniversary Bucky got down on one knee and proposed, three months later he was standing in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house in his suit as Sarah helped Y/n with her dress.

He really wished Steve was there to see him marrying his love.

A month before marrying both Sam and Bucky retired, both men tired of the bloodshed and nightmares. Sam told Bucky that he was going to move down to Louisiana, he even brought up a business proposal, Bucky had to admit it did sound tempting he promised Sam that he would run it by Y/n.

“Sam’s moving closer to Sarah, you know now that we’ve retired.”

“Oh, right”

“He erm he brought up a proposal to go into business together-“

“Did you say yes? Please tell me you said yes!”

“Why? Do you want to move to Louisiana?”

“Yes! I mean I knew Sam was going to move back there so I may or may not have been looking at houses down there…”

Sam cheered loudly down the phone when Bucky rang him to tell him that they were coming too.

“You ready Bucky?” Sam asked popping his head around the door.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ready”

Bucky faltered walking out of the house only expecting to see AJ, Cass and Roy - the man who was going to be marrying them - but yet all the people Y/n and himself had befriended over the two years they had been going to Louisiana, had showed up to watch them become one.

Being announced as husband and wife had their hearts doing a double take. They were married and neither one could believe it. And neither one could wipe the smile off their faces.

“ты мой спаситель… wait did I pronounce any of that right?” She panicked as they slow danced to the live music from a local band.

“Di-did you learn that just for me?”

“Yes” she giggled “so did I say it correctly?”

“Yes you did мой спаситель”

The celebration went on well into the night.

** present time **

“Buck?”

“Huh?”

“Did you just hear what I said?” Y/n looks up at him lightly nibbling on her bottom lip looking nervously.

Of course he had heard the words that came out of her mouth but those exact words made him think about how they met, and how far they both had come from being complete strangers who met in the waiting room of their therapist building to now being a happily married couple whose love continued to grow as the days passed.

“I did, but tell me again, please”

Oh how he can’t wait to tell his best friend Sam the news he had just received.

Taking his hands in hers she placed them on her still flat stomach and smiled.

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[genderqueerdykes]

can the online lesbian community please stop treating butches like we're walking strap ons.

for years now i've had to avoid the butch lesbian tag on here because 80% of the posts are people yearning about a butch's strap on, or something else about a butch fucking them. it's fine and normal and healthy to express lesbian sexuality. being attracted to butches is good and fine, and yea of course its hot when a butch wears a strap. like duh

but when all i see people talk about is our straps (never our penises, only strap), or fantasizing about how big and strong we are, or all the things we could physically do to them, how we would be their Big Strong Butch and provide for them and take care of them and make it so that they don't have to go to work... it makes me wonder if people see us as. people. or if we're just walking workhorses and sex toys.

like, are you gonna be there for your butch in a way that doesn't involve sex when they're having a bad day? are you gonna be there to listen when they discuss butchphobia? are you gonna help them bring in their groceries because they're physically disabled and can't be strong for you? are you going to defend them when they lock up in an anxiety attack while they're being misgendered? are you going to be there to reassure them that they're still butch no matter what anyone else says? are you going to be accepting when they come out as trans, genderqueer, non binary, or another gender? are you going to treat intersex butches with dignity and respect and not immediately default to misgendering us?

are you going to be there to help them domestically? are you going to be there to help drive them to work, class or shopping because they're too disabled to drive? are you going to care about them as a person if they become too disabled to have sex anymore, experience reproductive health issues, or lose interest in sex? are you going to be normal about them telling you they're asexual? are you going to focus solely on their appearance? are you going to be normal about them being fat? are you going to listen to them when they talk about their interests? are you going to be the one that cuddles them when they wake up from a PTSD nightmare drenched in sweat and addled with fear?

or are we just walking sex toys? it's bad enough that none of the online lesbian community acknowledges that some lesbians have their own penis. god forbid a biopenis shows up. rubber dicks? a-okay. flesh and blood penis? THREAT! if folks are fiending so hard for dick, why's it gotta be a dildo? you really can't accept a butch that has a penis, whether they were born with it or got bottom surgery? you want a penis on the butch soooooooooooo bad but it has to be silicone? really? you're really gonna throw all the lesbians with dicks out despite how horny you are? what's the double standard here about? is it really that hard to treat butches like people? are we really just play things that don't have feelings to the uninitiated?

this shit's a joke. treat butches better. don't be like this. we're people. we're not walking (fake) dicks.

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyandere monster harem

pairings. various m! yandere monsters x gn! reader

warnings. yandere themes, toxic obsession, 18+ dark themes

a/n. i love my sillies!!

wc. 6.1k

imagine a dark, mystical forest where you're the lone human, fated to cross paths with a group of terrifying yet obsessively devoted monsters.

each of them is unique in their appearance and abilities, but they all share one thing: an unrelenting desire to make you theirs, no matter the cost.

the werewolf

a hulking figure with sharp claws, wild amber eyes, and a low growl that vibrates through your very bones. he encountered you when you wandered too close to his den during a full moon. despite his primal instincts, he resisted harming you, instead captivated by your bravery—or foolishness.

he tracks your scent everywhere you go. if you so much as step outside, he’s already following from the shadows, ensuring your safety (and warding off anyone who dares to come near).

he marks your belongings with his scent and doesn’t hesitate to bare his teeth at anyone he deems a threat. you’re his mate, and he’ll challenge anyone who thinks otherwise.

though rough and wild, he becomes uncharacteristically gentle when he sees you hurt or scared, licking your wounds and curling protectively around you.

the werewolf is a wild, untamed force of nature, his obsession with you rooted in instincts so primal he can't suppress them even if he tried.

he watches you from the shadows, always nearby but rarely letting himself be seen at first. your scent drives him to madness—earthy, warm, uniquely you. it's comforting and addictive, and he can't get enough. he's stolen pieces of your life to keep close: a scarf left behind, a mug you drank from, anything that holds your essence.

his possessiveness is terrifying. he won't let anyone else near you if he can help it. if someone gets too close, he intervenes, his voice low and threatening, his golden eyes burning with barely concealed rage. no one dares challenge him; there's something in the way he moves, the way he looms, that screams danger.

he doesn't understand human boundaries. if you're speaking to someone too long, he'll step in, claiming he needs to talk to you or finding some excuse to drag you away. if you protest, he'll growl—not at you, never at you—but in frustration. you're his; why can't everyone else see that?

but with you, he's soft. gentle. when he's sure you're not afraid of him, he'll let you closer, let you see the man beneath the beast. his touch is careful, almost reverent, as if he's afraid he'll break you. when you're upset, he wraps himself around you, his warmth and presence enough to shield you from the world.

his affection shows in small ways. he brings you gifts from the forest: flowers, feathers, shiny rocks he thought you'd like. he watches your reaction closely, his heart swelling with pride when you smile. if you ever thank him, he becomes almost shy, looking away with a faint blush creeping up his neck.

jealousy is his constant battle. if he sees someone making you laugh or smile, his claws dig into his palms. he won't confront you about it, but the person who caused his jealousy might find themselves on the receiving end of his wrath later.

at night, he lingers near your home. the thought of you alone, unprotected, drives him crazy. he paces, his instincts screaming at him to stay close. sometimes, he leaves small signs that he's there—a paw print in the dirt, a tuft of fur snagged on a branch—as if he wants you to know he's watching over you.

his biggest fear is your rejection. he knows he's more beast than man, and the thought of you being afraid of him keeps him awake at night. if you ever flinch or pull away, it shatters him, and he'll retreat, his golden eyes filled with pain. but he always comes back, unable to stay away, his obsession too strong to overcome.

you are his anchor, his reason for fighting the beast within. he doesn't care what it takes; he'll keep you safe, even if it means keeping you all to himself. his love is overwhelming, suffocating, but he doesn't see it that way. to him, it's devotion—pure, unbreakable, eternal.

his growl rumbled low as kael draegon stepped from the shadows, his golden eyes fixed on you with that same wild, desperate intensity.

"don't be afraid," kael draegon whispered, his voice rough but steady as he offered you his hand. the cold breeze tugged at his hair as he stood beside you, his voice soft as he murmured, "you're safe now, with me."

kael draegon always seemed to appear just when you needed him, his presence both calming and terrifying. his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment before kael draegon pulled back, his voice almost apologetic. "old instincts, i'm sorry."

the vampire

elegant and poised, with glowing crimson eyes and a voice like silk, the vampire first saw you in the dead of night. he was drawn to the purity of your blood but became enthralled by the purity of your soul instead.

his pale, marble-like skin seems to glow faintly in the moonlight, untouched by time or imperfection. his crimson eyes burn with a smouldering intensity, framed by thick lashes that only add to his magnetic gaze.

his raven-black hair falls in soft, silky waves around his sharp cheekbones, perfectly complementing his aristocratic features. his tall, slender frame moves with a predatory grace, and his voice—smooth as velvet—wraps around you like a dark lullaby.

he loves to watch you sleep, marvelling at your vulnerability. He’ll slip into your room at night, not to harm you, but to leave gifts—a rose, a letter, or even a piece of jewellery from an unknown era.

the vampire despises anyone who captures your attention. Friends, family, or even strangers—they’re nothing but distractions. He may use his hypnotic gaze to erase their presence from your life.

he gets flustered when you show him kindness, like bandaging a wound he sustained in your defence. he tries to hide his blush, but his pale complexion betrays him.

the vampire is as elegant as he is dangerous, his presence suffocating yet alluring, like the pull of a siren's song on a lonely traveler at sea. his crimson eyes gleam in the dark, reflecting centuries of wisdom and hunger, but when he looks at you, they’re soft, desperate, and entirely devoted. you’re his obsession, his muse, his reason to exist in a world that has grown cold and lonely with age.

he first saw you during one of his midnight wanderings, his attention drawn by your scent, a sweet, intoxicating mix of vulnerability and warmth. you were an easy target at first—a stranger out on a walk, unassuming, untouched by the weight of the supernatural world. but then he watched you, from the shadows, and the hunger in him shifted. you weren’t just food, not in the way he expected. you were you.

his obsession grew quickly, a slow, crawling thing that nestled in his bones. he has a habit of appearing when you least expect it: slipping through your window as you sleep, standing at the end of a dark alley when you’re walking home, always close but never intrusive enough to harm you. he studies you with endless fascination, watching how you move, how you smile, how you react to the smallest moments of life. you are his everything.

he is a master manipulator, charming and patient, with a voice like silk and words that dance between honeyed promises and half-truths. he always knows just what to say, always seems to be exactly where you are, making sure you feel safe.

but beneath the charm is something ancient, something sharp—a predator who has learned how to play the long game to get what he wants. you are his, and he has all the time in the world to make sure you know it.

his jealousy is sharp and swift. the moment another person shows even the slightest interest in you, his eyes narrow, his smile turns colder. it doesn’t take much for him to make his presence known, weaving himself into your life, into your conversations, until the other person is left with nothing but fear or confusion. you are his, and he’ll ensure that no one else tries to stake their claim.

he doesn’t simply show his obsession through manipulation. he is far more intimate, far more human in the moments where he can let his guard down. he’ll leave you gifts—roses with petals as red as blood, antique trinkets from his many years of wandering, or old letters written in his perfect, flowing script.

he tries to convey his feelings subtly, his words wrapped in metaphors and promises, but they always come from the deepest part of his heart.

he’s possessive in the way only a centuries-old predator can be. he touches you often, with a hand to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or lightly grazing your hand as if you might slip away at any moment.

he isn’t violent, not by nature, but his love is all-encompassing, wrapping itself around you like a snake squeezing its prey. you belong to him in every way, and he has no intention of letting you slip out of his grasp.

his dark powers allow him to watch you from afar, slipping into your dreams, invading the quiet moments of your subconscious. you’ll wake with his voice lingering in your mind, his whispers promises of eternity, of a life spent with him, of safety, beauty, and endless nights. he wants you to rely on him, to lean into his presence, to crave his touch, until you can’t imagine your life without him.

when you show kindness or affection toward him, his calm, elegant mask slips. his eyes soften, his voice trembles slightly, and he finds himself speechless.

he’s terrified of showing too much, of letting you see the raw hunger that lies beneath his smooth exterior, but he can’t stop himself. your smile, your laughter, it means everything to him, more than centuries of darkness and isolation ever could.

he would give you everything. his life, his immortality, his heart. but he struggles with the weight of his own nature—the bloodlust that lies just beneath his perfect, pale skin. he’s not just obsessed with you out of a need to control or dominate; he truly cares. he wants you safe, protected, happy. but his fear of losing you makes him cruel, calculating, and relentless.

you are his forever, and he has no intention of sharing you with anyone else, not with the world, not with time, not with destiny itself. his love is suffocating, but it is eternal, and as much as it terrifies him, he knows you’ll never escape his grasp. he’ll make sure of it.

his voice was like silk as dorian vale leaned against the window frame, his crimson eyes glinting in the moonlight

"you shouldn't be out here alone," dorian vale said smoothly, stepping closer, his voice as soft as a whisper. dorian vale’s gaze was piercing, unyielding, and you could feel every moment of his attention as he looked at you

he handed you a single red rose, his pale fingers delicate as he said, "for you, my dear.

his presence lingered, and you could feel dorian vale’s words in your bones as he whispered, "you were always meant to be mine."

the ghost

a shadowy figure with hollow eyes that glow faintly in the dark, the ghost is a tragic soul who found solace in your warmth. his attachment to you began when you unknowingly lingered in the house he haunts, speaking softly to the empty air as if sensing his presence.

alaric’s form is translucent, a faint, glowing silhouette that shifts and flickers like mist. his features are soft and hauntingly beautiful, with a melancholy that clings to him like a shadow.

his once-vivid eyes are now pale, like the reflection of a full moon in still water, and his long hair drifts around him as if caught in a gentle breeze. though incorporeal, he retains the faint shape of his elegant hands and tall, lean frame, an echo of the man he once was.

his presence feels like a cool touch on your skin, a constant, bittersweet reminder of his undying devotion.

he manipulates the environment to keep you close—doors creak shut when you try to leave, and objects mysteriously disappear, only to reappear where he wants you to stay.

if anyone hurts you, the ghost unleashes his wrath. lights flicker, temperatures drop, and your assailants are haunted until they’re too terrified to approach you again.

he’s deeply moved when you acknowledge him, even if it’s just a whisper to the air. your willingness to accept him, despite his incorporeal nature, solidifies his eternal devotion.

the ghost is a tragic, ethereal figure, bound to you by a love that death itself couldn’t sever. his form is translucent, shimmering faintly in the moonlight, and though he may no longer have a heartbeat, his emotions are as raw and overwhelming as they were in life. he exists in the liminal space between the living and the dead, obsessed with you in a way that is both haunting and heartbreakingly tender.

he doesn’t remember how or when it started—only that one day, he found himself drawn to you, unable to leave your side. whether it was your voice, your laughter, or the way you brought life to even the smallest, most mundane moments, you became his light in the suffocating darkness of his afterlife. he watches you from the corners of rooms, a faint chill in the air marking his presence, his spectral form always lingering just out of reach.

his love is quiet, but all-consuming. he whispers your name into the night when you sleep, his voice carried on the softest breeze. he rearranges small things in your home to make his presence known: a book left open to a meaningful passage, a flower you swore wasn’t there before resting on your windowsill. at first, it’s subtle—gentle signs that you’re never truly alone—but as his obsession deepens, the signs become harder to ignore.

jealousy eats away at him when others capture your attention. he can’t bear the thought of you being close to anyone else, of you laughing or smiling with someone who isn’t him. when you’re out, he follows you like a shadow, unseen but ever-present, and if someone gets too close, the air turns cold, the lights flicker, and an unshakable unease settles over them until they leave.

he craves your touch, but his incorporeal form makes it impossible. this frustrates him endlessly, and he spends nights lingering near you, reaching out as if he could somehow feel the warmth of your skin, the beat of your heart. his desperation leads him to try anything to bridge the gap between life and death, no matter the cost.

despite his possessiveness, he’s deeply protective. he uses his abilities to shield you from harm, warding off danger with an almost primal ferocity. if someone threatens you, they’ll find themselves plagued by unexplainable misfortunes—objects falling, shadows moving, and an unrelenting sense of being watched. he doesn’t harm them directly, but his presence is enough to terrify even the boldest.

when he speaks to you, it’s with a voice like the echo of a forgotten melody, soft and tinged with sorrow. he tells you things you shouldn’t know—secrets from your past, glimpses of your future, things only someone who’s been watching you so intimately could know. he wants you to feel his devotion, his undying love, even if it frightens you.

there’s a tragic loneliness to him. he knows he can never truly be with you, not in the way he desires, and this realization drives him to the edge of despair. his love is obsessive, yes, but it’s also painfully pure—an eternal yearning for a connection he can never fully have.

if you acknowledge him, his devotion only deepens. the smallest smile, a whispered “thank you” into the empty room, is enough to make his entire existence worthwhile. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are his only solace in an eternity of longing.

he follows you everywhere, unseen but ever-present, his translucent form flickering in the corner of your eye or casting a fleeting shadow against the wall. at first, his presence is subtle, almost unnoticeable: the faint creak of floorboards when no one else is home, a cold breeze brushing against your skin, the lingering feeling that someone is watching you. but as his obsession deepens, his presence grows stronger, more impossible to ignore.

he learns everything about you. the way you hum absentmindedly when you’re focused, the scent of your favorite tea, the books you read late into the night. he listens to the sound of your heartbeat as you sleep, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a state of peace he hasn’t felt since he was alive. he treasures these moments, hoarding every detail about you like precious relics of a life he can never fully be part of.

his jealousy is a storm that rages within him. when others come into your life, his calm demeanor shatters. he can’t bear the thought of you sharing your smiles, your laughter, or your attention with anyone else. the air around you grows colder when someone he deems a threat is near, and they often find themselves inexplicably uneasy in your presence. lights flicker, objects fall, and whispers echo in the corners of the room, driving them away with a fear they can’t explain.

but with you, he is soft, almost fragile. he speaks to you in whispers, his voice carrying the faint echo of a forgotten melody, full of longing and sorrow. "don’t be afraid," he murmurs into the quiet of the night. "i’ll always protect you." his words are laced with an aching devotion, a promise to guard you from harm, even if you don’t fully understand where the comfort is coming from.

he leaves you gifts, though he has no tangible hands to place them. a single white flower on your windowsill that wasn’t there the night before, an old, weathered book that appeared on your desk, or a faint message written in the condensation on your mirror. they’re tokens of his affection, his way of reminding you that you’re not alone, even when he can’t be seen.

despite his protectiveness, he’s painfully aware of his limitations. his incorporeal form frustrates him to no end—he longs to touch you, to hold you, to feel the warmth of your hand in his, but the barrier between life and death is unyielding. he spends countless hours watching you, reaching out with ghostly fingers that pass through you, yearning for a connection he can never truly have.

he’s haunted by the memory of what it felt like to be alive, to love and be loved in return. his obsession with you is his only solace in a world of emptiness, but it also drives him to desperation. he begins searching for ways to bridge the gap between your worlds, delving into the supernatural, seeking answers, rituals, or bargains that might bring him closer to you.

when you acknowledge him, even in the smallest ways, it’s everything to him. a whispered “thank you” when you notice the flower he left, a hesitant glance toward the flickering light he caused—it fills him with a joy so profound it nearly breaks him. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are the only proof that he still exists to you.

his love is all-consuming, a desperate and eternal yearning that leaves no room for anything else. he doesn’t just want to protect you; he wants to be with you, to share in your life, to have a place in your heart. he knows his love is overwhelming, even suffocating, but he can’t stop. you’re his reason for lingering in this world, the one thing that makes his cursed existence bearable.

in his more vulnerable moments, he confesses his feelings, his voice trembling with a sorrow that spans lifetimes. "i’m sorry," he whispers, his spectral form flickering like a dying flame. "i didn’t mean for this to happen. but i can’t let go. i won’t." his words are both a plea and a promise, a declaration of a love that will haunt you forever.

his devotion is eternal, unyielding, and consuming. he doesn’t see his obsession as wrong; to him, it’s the purest form of love, a connection that transcends life and death. and though his presence may sometimes frighten you, you can’t deny the strange comfort it brings, the knowledge that someone—something—is always watching over you. he is yours, now and forever, and nothing, not even death, will change that.

you are his reason for lingering in this world, his obsession, his eternity.

alaric drifts soundlessly through the walls, his form a faint shimmer of light that barely disturbs the air

"you called for me," he whispers, his voice like the rustle of leaves on a quiet night. he hovers just out of reach, his longing evident in the way he watches you with those hollow, mournful eyes

every creak of the floorboards, every cool breeze brushing your skin—it’s alaric, a constant, invisible guardian, desperate for you to feel his presence.

the demon

with horns curling from his head, molten eyes, and a smirk that could tempt even the purest soul, the demon is as charming as he is dangerous. he first appeared to you when you were at your lowest, offering power and protection—but only if you stayed by his side.

azrael is striking in his infernal elegance, his beauty sharp and dangerous like a blade. his obsidian horns curl menacingly from his head, gleaming faintly in the firelight, and his jet-black hair is cropped just enough to frame his angular face.

his glowing amber eyes burn with an intensity that’s both mesmerizing and terrifying, framed by dark lashes that soften their predatory edge. his physique is perfectly sculpted, with broad shoulders and sinewy muscle wrapped in dark tattoos that pulse faintly with infernal energy.

a long, spaded tail flicks behind him, a subtle testament to his demonic nature, while his sharp, claw-like fingers could destroy—or cradle.

he infiltrates your dreams, filling them with his voice and his image so that you can never forget him. no matter how far you try to run, he’s always there, whispering promises of eternal love.

the demon doesn’t share. he’ll make deals or threats to ensure no one else dares approach you. his flames flare dangerously when he senses competition.

when you challenge his overbearing nature, he’s secretly thrilled. Your fiery defiance makes him want you even more. but when you show fear or sadness, he’s quick to reassure you with surprising tenderness.

the demon is a dangerous enigma, a being forged in fire and darkness who is utterly captivated by you. his obsession burns hotter than the flames of his infernal home, an all-consuming desire that transcends mortal understanding.

he’s not a creature of softness or restraint—his love is raw, primal, and possessive, and he would raze the world to ash if it meant keeping you by his side.

he first noticed you in a moment of vulnerability, a flicker of something pure and radiant that pierced through his otherwise unrelenting darkness. maybe it was your kindness, your resilience, or even your imperfections—whatever it was, it stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in centuries.

for a demon who thrives on power and domination, this feeling was alien, unsettling, and exhilarating.

at first, he tried to ignore it. love, after all, is a weakness—a chain that binds. but the more he watched you, the deeper he sank. you consumed his thoughts, invaded his dreams, and stirred emotions he didn’t even know he was capable of. the line between fascination and obsession blurred, and before long, you became the center of his world, his greatest desire and his ultimate possession.

his presence is overwhelming, even when he isn’t visible. the air grows heavy when he’s near, crackling with an unnatural energy that makes your skin tingle. shadows twist and writhe in the corners of your vision, and faint whispers echo in your mind, promises of devotion spoken in a voice as smooth as velvet.

he’s not above manipulating your emotions to keep you close. he knows exactly how to twist words, how to play on your fears and insecurities, all while making it seem like he’s your only sanctuary. "no one will love you the way i do," he purrs, his voice a blend of seduction and menace. "no one will protect you like i can."

jealousy consumes him with a ferocity that borders on madness. he doesn’t tolerate anyone vying for your attention or affection. if someone dares to come too close, they often meet with mysterious misfortunes—car accidents, sudden illnesses, or even inexplicable disappearances. he doesn’t see these acts as cruel; in his mind, he’s simply ensuring that no one can take you from him.

despite his darkness, his love for you is genuine in its own twisted way. he’s incapable of expressing it in soft or traditional ways, but his devotion is absolute.

he treasures every interaction with you, every fleeting smile, every word you speak to him. he hoards these moments like a dragon hoards gold, replaying them endlessly in his mind.

he’s endlessly fascinated by your humanity—the way your emotions shift like the tides, the fragility of your body, the warmth of your skin. he often marvels at how delicate you are compared to him, a creature of immense power and near-immortality. this contrast only deepens his obsession; you’re a treasure, a rare and precious thing in a world of chaos and darkness.

when he does reveal himself to you, it’s always dramatic and intentional. he thrives on your reactions, whether it’s fear, awe, or even anger. he’ll step out from the shadows, his horns catching the dim light, his dark eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "you belong to me," he’ll say, his voice leaving no room for argument. it’s not a question, not a plea—it’s a declaration, an unshakable truth in his mind.

he uses his demonic powers to bind himself to you in ways both subtle and overt. you might find strange symbols etched into the corners of your room, or feel an inexplicable pull toward him that you can’t resist. he’s always there, in your dreams, in your thoughts, in the very fabric of your reality.

but for all his power and confidence, there’s a vulnerability beneath his fiery exterior. he’s terrified of losing you, of you rejecting him or finding someone else.

it’s a fear he doesn’t understand, one that gnaws at him and drives him to even greater extremes. he’ll do anything to keep you, even if it means breaking every rule, defying the laws of heaven and hell, and binding your soul to his for eternity.

in his own way, he tries to be gentle with you. he knows his nature frightens you, that his obsession can be overwhelming, so he tempers his intensity—at least, as much as a demon is capable of. he’ll appear to you in dreams, his voice soft, his touch feather-light, weaving fantasies of a life where you’re his and his alone.

but make no mistake—his love is as dangerous as it is consuming. he doesn’t see you as a partner, but as something to be claimed, protected, and possessed. you’re his light in the darkness, his one weakness, and he would destroy anyone—or anything—that threatens to take you from him.

"i’ll burn this world to the ground for you," he tells you, his voice a low growl, his eyes glowing with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and mesmerizing. "just say the word."

to him, you’re not just his obsession—you’re his salvation, the one thing that makes his existence bearable. his love is eternal, fierce, and utterly inescapable, binding you to him in ways you might never fully understand. you are his everything, and he will stop at nothing to make sure you remain his. forever.

azrael appears in a flicker of shadows and embers, his smirk sharp enough to cut

"did you miss me?" he purrs, his voice dripping with sinful charm. his burning gaze never leaves yours, an intensity that feels like it could consume your very soul

when he steps closer, the scent of smoke and spice fills the air, and the room grows impossibly warm

"you can’t escape me, little one," he murmurs, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

the sea monster

a towering creature with scales that shimmer in the moonlight and eyes as deep as the ocean, the sea monster saved you from drowning during a storm. since then, he’s watched you from the water’s edge, longing to pull you into his world.

his body a perfect blend of human and sea creature. his skin shimmers with an iridescent sheen, scales glinting faintly with hues of green, blue, and silver that shift like sunlight on water. his long, flowing hair resembles seaweed, dark and sleek, cascading down his back in waves.

his eyes glow faintly, like bioluminescent creatures of the deep, their piercing intensity revealing his ancient power. his hands are webbed and tipped with sharp, claw-like nails, and his muscular frame is marked with jagged scars from battles in the ocean’s depths. his lower half bears fins that ripple with movement, giving him a grace that belies his massive size.

he collects things you’ve touched—seashells, pieces of cloth, even footprints in the sand. his underwater lair is filled with these treasures, each arranged like a shrine.

he hates when you leave the shore. If you venture too far inland, he’ll create storms or tidal waves to draw you back to him.

he becomes surprisingly bashful when you willingly approach the water to speak to him. your trust in him, despite his monstrous appearance, makes his heart swell.

the sea monster is an ancient being, born of the ocean’s depths, where sunlight never reaches. his obsession with you is as vast and unfathomable as the waters he calls home—a love born of isolation, mystery, and an insatiable hunger for connection. to him, you are his beacon, a rare and precious light in the endless darkness of his world, and he is utterly captivated by you.

his first encounter with you was serendipitous—a chance meeting by the shore, or perhaps a daring moment when you ventured too close to the water’s edge. he saw you, a fragile creature of the land, and was instantly enthralled.

your movements, your laughter, even the way the sunlight caught in your hair—all of it was alien and beautiful to him. from that moment, you became his fixation, his reason to rise from the depths.

he watches you from the water, his massive form concealed beneath the waves, his glowing eyes ever watchful. at first, his presence is subtle—the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, the inexplicable pull of the tide whenever you’re near.

but as his obsession deepens, his signs become harder to ignore. strange treasures wash ashore: seashells, polished stones, and other trinkets that seem too deliberately placed to be coincidences.

he is a creature of contradictions. his love for you is as tender as it is overwhelming, and while he longs to be near you, he’s painfully aware of his monstrous appearance. his body is a fusion of scales, fins, and sinewy muscle, a form designed to survive in the crushing pressure of the deep sea. he fears your rejection, that you will see him as a monster rather than the devoted being he has become.

despite this, he can’t help but draw closer. when you venture into the water, he’s there, just beneath the surface, his presence a dark shadow that follows you. he revels in these moments, the closeness, the illusion that he’s part of your world. the saltwater clings to your skin, and it drives him mad with desire—it’s as though the ocean itself is marking you as his.

his jealousy is as fierce as a storm at sea. anyone who dares to draw too near to you risks his wrath. fishermen speak of sudden squalls that rise from nowhere, boats overturned by unseen forces, and sailors vanishing into the depths. he doesn’t see it as cruelty; to him, it’s protection. the ocean is his domain, and no one else has the right to take what belongs to him.

he dreams of pulling you into his world, of making you his in every way. the thought of you joining him beneath the waves consumes him, and he begins to weave fantasies of a life together in the depths—a palace of coral and bioluminescent light, where you would be his queen, his eternal companion.

but he knows it’s impossible, and this knowledge torments him. he can’t survive on land for long, and you can’t live beneath the water. this barrier between your worlds drives him to desperation. he begins seeking forbidden rituals and ancient magic, anything that might allow him to bridge the gap and bring you into his realm—or transform himself into something that can walk beside you on the shore.

when he speaks, his voice is a low, resonant rumble, like the distant crash of waves on a rocky shore. his words are filled with longing and reverence, a declaration of a love that spans the vastness of the ocean. "you are my light," he murmurs, his glowing eyes fixed on you. "without you, i am nothing but the endless dark."

his love is consuming, a tidal wave that sweeps away everything in its path. he doesn’t understand restraint or boundaries; to him, love is absolute, and his devotion to you is all-encompassing. he sees your hesitations, your fears, but he can’t stop himself. you are the first thing in centuries to stir his cold, ancient heart, and he will not let you go.

when you acknowledge his presence, even in the smallest ways—a whispered word to the sea, a touch to one of the treasures he’s left for you—his heart swells with a joy so profound it’s almost painful. he clings to these moments, replaying them in his mind during the long hours when he’s alone in the depths, waiting for the chance to see you again.

his protectiveness is as fierce as his love. the ocean itself seems to bend to his will, rising to shield you from harm. storms part in your wake, currents carry you safely to shore, and even the most fearsome predators of the deep seem to bow before you. you are his everything, and he will guard you with a ferocity that defies nature itself.

but there’s a darkness to his love, a possessiveness that borders on madness. he doesn’t just want you to love him; he wants you to need him, to see him as the only one who can protect and cherish you. "the land will never understand you as i do," he tells you, his voice a low growl, the waves crashing behind him. "they will never love you as i do."

his obsession is eternal, as deep and unyielding as the ocean itself. you are his heart, his treasure, his reason for rising to the surface. and though his love may be overwhelming, even frightening, there’s a strange beauty in it—a devotion so pure and unshakable that it defies the boundaries of worlds. you are his, now and always, and he will never let the tide carry you away.

mio watches from the waves, his body a dark silhouette against the moonlit water. when you finally meet his gaze, he speaks your name like it’s a prayer, his voice low and reverent

"you don’t belong to the land," he says, his tone both pleading and possessive. "the ocean calls to you. i call to you.

his fingers trail through the water, creating ripples that mirror the emotions surging in his chest—desire, devotion, and an unshakable determination to make you his.

while each monster is fiercely possessive, they begrudgingly tolerate each other’s presence because they all agree on one thing: your happiness comes first.

you’re not just a human to them—you’re their everything. whether you accept their twisted love or try to escape, one thing is certain: they’ll never let you go. you’ve awakened something primal and eternal in their hearts, and no force on earth or beyond could sever the bonds they’ve forged with you.

[goqmir]

cis people reading this post, you should understand two things:

1) if you think you are being kind and have a good relationship with a trans person, and you misgender them or deadname them once or more every time you see them, you are not being kind, and you probably don't have as good of a relationship as you think.

why? because misgendering and deadnaming fucking hurts. it actually hurts more than you can comprehend. it hurts like hell. it hurts like you just got stabbed for real and i'm not joking and it never ever feels better.

so answer me this: if you wanted to hang out with someone you love, and every time you did so they stabbed you once or twice with a big sharp knife and it hurt like fucking hell and left a lasting wound on you, would you still go hang out with that person regularly? if not, why do you feel entitled that the trans person you have this relationship should come visit you, knowing that possibly more than once you'll deadname or misgender them? why are you putting a knife to their throat?

2) you actually, inherently, need to put in more effort about the little parts of speech, such as pronouns, names, and gendering words and phrases, when talking to a transgender person rather than a cisgender person. it's actually more effort. you need to take the time when talking to make sure you phrase things correctly so you aren't misgendering them or deadnaming them. because, as we've established, and even though it might be a simple mistake to you, it hurts like hell to them, like a knife entering their body.

cisgender people do not have this problem, so it's somewhat harder to hurt them in casual conversation by mixing up a pronoun (which is a common mistake when talking without thinking too much for anyone!). when talking to a trans person, you need to think about your words. every cis person i've ever met not only doesn't understand this, but feels entitled to not having to pay any more attention to gendering me correctly than any cis person. and that doesn't work, because cis people don't get stabbed by simple words that are easy to mix up. you gotta talk slower and more thoughtfully until gendering this person right is second nature and if you don't you will hurt them and they'll bleed and it will be entirely your fault.

trans people are not weak because they can be hurt by your carelessness-- rather, you are cruel for hurting them for it. and the only way to not hurt them is to stop and take a second to think about what you'll say before you say it to them. but no cis person i've ever met understands this. maybe you could be the first?

sometimes i see cis people say "trans people will understand if you misgender them at first. i call my nephew 'her' all the time and he knows i don't mean it" no he doesnt. he probably never hangs out with you for more than ten minutes because that's how long you can last in a conversation before making him feel like shit. also he thinks you're, best case scenario, stupid for not being able to figure it out, or worst case scenario, uncaring about him and his needs. he doesn't like spending time with you. you're deluding yourself into thinking you're far kinder than you are. you're weird man.

[sidekick-hero]

A Leash, a Van, and a Christmas Plan

steddie | rated teen | 3.7k | tags: Christmas fluff, Nurse Steve, meet-cute, Bear the dog | Read on AO3

Steve had always wanted a dog—ever since he could remember. As a kid, he would beg his parents endlessly, swearing up and down that he’d take care of it. He’d walk it, feed it, clean up after it.

Despite all his promises, a dog remained one of the few things he didn’t get as a child, right alongside the attention and affection he truly craved.

So, the moment he could afford his own flat, he knew exactly what to do. Together with his best friend Robin, he made his way to the local shelter in search of a furry companion. Robin, a self-proclaimed cat person, indulged him in this quest to fulfill his childhood dream.

They wandered the shelter for what felt like hours. Even Robin started to joke that they should just take all the dogs home. Steve, however, found the decision nearly impossible. How could he pick just one? They all deserved to feel safe and loved.

Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Anyway, just as they were about to give up, they passed what looked like an empty kennel. A faint growl stopped Steve in his tracks. Curious, he stepped closer and found a small black bundle cowering in the far corner. The dog was young, terrified, and yet somehow still looked like it was ready to take on the entire world.

“Robin!” Steve called over his shoulder. His friend was busy fussing over a golden retriever a few kennels ahead. “Can you get someone from the staff?”

A week later, after passing all the background checks and paperwork, Steve brought Cerberus home.

The name wasn’t his idea. That credit went to Dustin, one of the kids who worked at the shelter. Dustin had taken one look at the little dog and declared that it would grow into a huge, black monster, making “Cerberus” the perfect name. Steve hated it—but he liked the kid enough to keep it.

Besides, they ended up calling him Bear anyway.

That had been three years ago. Since then, Bear had grown into the huge, black monster Dustin had predicted—well, minus the monster part. Unless, of course, you counted being a total cuddle monster.

Still, Bear was a big guy, and his size alone was enough to make most people wary. It didn’t help that he was fiercely protective of Steve, growling at anyone who dared to come too close. He always needed time to warm up to new people, but once you were accepted as part of his pack, you had a loyal friend for life.

Steve didn’t mind Bear’s intimidating presence, though. If anything, it made him feel safer. As a nurse at the local hospital, his unpredictable shifts meant late-night walks were a regular part of their routine. Bear’s size and low, rumbling growl made it easy for Steve to wander through quiet streets at night without a second thought.

It was on one of those walks—a bitterly cold December night, just two days before Christmas—that everything changed.

Months of working with Chrissy, his dog trainer, had paid off in more ways than one. Steve ended up with a kind-of-well-behaved-but-stubborn dog willing to (mostly) cooperate, and Robin got herself a girlfriend who was every bit as amazing as she deserved. Even if it meant that Steve would have to spend Christmas alone this year, while Robin took Chrissy home to her parents for the first time.

Usually, walking Bear was uneventful—a blessing, considering Steve, despite being fit and regularly working out at the hospital gym, was no match for 145 pounds of determined dog. Bear stayed close to Steve’s side, happy to keep watch, growling menacingly at any perceived threats but always trusting Steve to handle things.

That’s why Steve wasn’t gripping the leash as tightly as he should have been. His thoughts were far away, preoccupied with a little boy he’d been tending to—a boy stuck in the hospital over Christmas and heartbreakingly sad about it. Steve was busy planning ways to make the holiday festive for the kids in his ward when it happened: a sudden, sharp tug on the leash.

The leash slipped from his fingers before he could react.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking with shock and just a little more panic than he’d like. “Come!”

Bear, however, had other ideas. He bolted, disappearing into the dense trees at the edge of the park.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Steve swore as he took off after him, already regretting not listening to Robin when she suggested a cat. A cat, after all, wouldn’t have him tripping through brambles and stumbling over undergrowth, with only his runner’s light bouncing wildly to guide him.

Finding a black dog in the pitch-dark night was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Impossible.

“Bear!” Steve called again, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice further. “Come here, buddy!”

He stopped, straining to hear anything—a rustle, a bark, a clue—but all he got in return was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the distant hoot of an owl. The silence felt louder somehow, now that one of his senses was compromised.

The realization crept in slowly, chilling him even more than the night air: he was alone, in the dark, with his dog gone and no one else around.

His breath came in visible puffs, clouds of mist dissipating into the cold. A shiver ran through him, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was from the cold or the unsettling weight of his surroundings. The trees loomed, their shadows stretching longer than they should, and everything felt just a little off.

He was on the verge of giving up—tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, frustration mixing with fear—when a loud snap echoed through the stillness.

Steve flinched, his heart leaping into his throat.

Then, a deep, rumbling growl broke through the stillness, followed by a sharp bark.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, bolting toward the sound. More barks followed, their tone higher and lighter—not aggressive, but curious.

“Good boy,” a voice called out, shaky but trying for calm. “Or—uh—good girl? I don’t want to assume, man. Or… woman. Shit. Please don’t eat me?”

The voice sounded young, male and unmistakably terrified. Steve couldn’t blame him. Anyone would panic if they were cornered by 145 pounds of black fur and sharp teeth.

Forcing his legs to move faster and silently praying he wouldn’t trip over a stray root or branch, Steve barreled toward the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest. Bear was obviously holding someone hostage, and Steve had no idea what he was about to find.

He burst through the trees and stumbled into a clearing. There, parked at the edge, was an old van—and standing on top of it was a man.

The guy had his hands raised in a desperate, placating gesture, his voice trembling as he pleaded with Steve’s dog.

“Easy, big guy. Good boy. Or girl. Seriously, no need for violence here—”

Steve couldn’t tell you why, but the whole thing was so absurd, so completely surreal. Bear, massive and proud, sitting at the base of the van like some four-legged guardian, and the poor guy perched on the roof like he’d been treed by a bear. The adrenaline coursing through Steve’s veins, paired with the overwhelming relief that Bear was safe—and that no one appeared to be bleeding—hit him all at once.

Steve doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing in near hysteria.

Both Bear and the guy turned toward Steve’s laughter. Bear let out a low whuff, the canine equivalent of “Look what I found!” Meanwhile, the guy, clearly panicked, shouted at him.

“Run! There’s a wild beast—it’ll tear you apart if you don’t move! Hurry! I can try to distract it, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

Another wave of laughter threatened to bubble up, but Steve managed to swallow it down. The poor guy was terrified, and yet he was still trying to save Steve. It was kind of adorable, in a completely ridiculous way.

Instead of laughing more, Steve decided to end the guy’s suffering. He walked toward them, shaking his head.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” the guy yelled, eyes wide. “Don’t come closer! I—I don’t think I can stop it!”

Steve smiled up at him, though in the dim light—provided by the van’s headlights and his bouncing runner’s light—he doubted the guy could see it. He kept walking until he was right beside Bear, the dog’s massive head level with his waist.

Calmly, he reached down to scratch behind Bear’s ears and said, loud enough for the guy to hear, “What do you think you’re doing, huh? We talked about this. No running away, and definitely no hunting down poor, innocent people.”

Bear responded with another satisfied whuff, his tail wagging furiously despite the fact that he was still sitting.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” The voice from above sounded incredulous. “Are you some kind of dog whisperer or that your beast?”

Steve looked up at Bear’s hostage, and upon realizing that his runner’s light was blinding him, turned it off. He could still see well enough with the headlights casting a warm light close by after his eyes had adjusted. The first thing he noticed were the guy’s eyes. They were huge and almost black in the low light, sitting atop full lips on a pale face framed by dark curls. He was adorable and hot.

“Sorry,” Steve began, running a hand through his hair. “Not a dog whisperer, or this big guy wouldn’t have bolted the second I got distracted and loosened my grip on the leash. In my defense, though, he’s never done that before. You must smell pretty incredible for him to chase you all the way down here.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Steve wanted to slap himself. Once upon a time, he had game. Real game. But apparently, those days were long gone, and now he was reduced to this—word vomiting as soon as he came face-to-face with a hot guy.

The guy—whom Steve had silently dubbed Bambi because of those wide, enchanting doe eyes—blinked at him, utterly speechless. Steve dared to hope he was overwhelmed by Steve’s suave charm, but that hope was dashed by the guy’s next words.

“Are you for real? You’re telling me it’s my fault for smelling like dog food that your… your beast chased me down?”

Something about the incredulous tone, coupled with the faint tremor in his voice that betrayed more lingering embarrassment than true anger, lit a spark of mischief in Steve. He wanted to make the guy laugh, to banish the last traces of fear, and—let’s be honest—to see how those full lips would look wrapped around a smile.

“Not dog food, no,” Steve said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Bear here is a professionally trained drug detection dog. So he must’ve picked up something really interesting to go off the rails like that.”

It was meant as a joke—obviously, Bear was no such thing as a professionally trained anything. But at Steve’s words, Bambi’s eyes widened to cartoonish proportions. Before Steve could assure him he was kidding, the guy scrambled to climb down the other side of the van, his movements jerky with panic.

“Whoa, hey—wait!” Steve called out, stepping forward, but it was too late.

There was a sharp slip, followed by a dull thud and a pained groan.

Steve hurried toward the spot where Bambi had hit the ground with an alarming thud, but Bear was faster.

“Please make it quick, big guy. Haven’t I suffered enough already?” came a slightly wheezing voice, followed by another soft whuff.

When Steve rounded the corner of the van, he stopped dead in his tracks, the scene before him equal parts surreal and hilarious.

Bambi was sprawled on the ground, spread-eagled, his head tilted to one side. Bear sat beside him, their faces mere inches apart. Bear’s loose fur and skin hung comically, his head tilted in a way that screamed curiosity, as if he were silently asking, “What are you doing down there?”

Steve considered taking a picture. Robin and Chrissy would never believe this otherwise. But a low groan from Bambi snapped him out of it.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Steve asked, quickly crossing the remaining distance. He dropped to his knees on Bambi’s other side, mirroring Bear’s concerned expression as he leaned over him.

“This is hell,” Bambi muttered, his voice heavy with dramatic despair. “The hellhound Cerberus has chased me to my demise, and now Charon’s coming to ferry my soul to Tartarus.”

Steve blinked. Was this guy serious? A concussion seemed likely at this point. But it was hard to ignore the weird coincidence that Bambi knew Bear’s namesake.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Steve said, raking a hand through his hair. “It was just a joke—I didn’t think you’d believe me. Robin’s right. I’m hopeless.” He let out a frustrated groan. “I mean, who almost gets someone killed trying to make them laugh?”

To Steve’s surprise, a hand reached out and found his, squeezing it once.

“You wanted to make me laugh?” Bambi asked, his voice soft.

“That’s what you’re focusing on? Not the ‘almost got you killed’ part?” Steve sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. You looked so scared and embarrassed. I just wanted to see you smile. So I made a dumb joke… and ended up getting you hurt instead.”

Bambi—he needed to find out the guy’s name, Steve reminded himself—hummed softly, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “So, just to be clear: You’re not a cop, and he—” he gestured toward Bear, still sitting like this was all a casual hangout in the park—“is not a drug detection dog?”

Steve let out a rueful laugh, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as warmth crept up his cheeks. “Nope. Not a cop. Not a drug detection dog. Just a pediatric nurse with a terrible sense of humor and a dog who’s usually better behaved.”

Eddie’s tentative smile grew into something full and radiant, so dazzling that Steve momentarily lost track of everything else. It was the kind of smile that made you think cheesy things, like comparing it to the sunrise—hopeful and brilliant, warming something deep in Steve’s chest.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked, shaking himself back to reality. “I keep calling you Bambi in my head, and I’m pretty sure that’s not it.”

That did it. Eddie burst into surprised laughter, his head tipping back as his eyes crinkled at the corners, the sound bright and unrestrained. It sent a wave of smug satisfaction through Steve, though it didn’t last long. The laughter soon faded into a low groan, Eddie wincing as the movement jostled whatever injury he’d sustained.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve blurted, words tumbling out as his concern surged. “Are you okay? God, I didn’t mean—”

Eddie’s hand found Steve’s again, squeezing it firmly. “Shhh,” he soothed, his voice low and warm. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. I mean, your sense of humor might be the death of me, but what a way to go, huh?”

Steve barked a startled laugh at that, though it quickly gave way to a more serious tone. “I’d really prefer you don’t die on me,” he said, pausing deliberately for the guy to fill in the gap.

“Eddie,” came the soft reply.

Steve smiled, relief and something else he couldn’t quite name washing over him. “I’d rather you don’t die on me, Eddie.”

They were both smiling at each other, the night cold and silent around them, as if the world had paused just for this moment. And then, as if the universe wanted to underscore how surreal and cinematic everything felt, it started to snow.

Big, soft flakes drifted down, landing on Eddie’s long eyelashes and melting on his nose and cheeks. Eddie’s smile widened, his expression pure delight as he laughed softly, tilting his face up to the sky. Without hesitation, he stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes, his laughter bubbling up again at the absurdity of it.

In that instant, Steve felt very much like one of those snowflakes—falling, utterly and irrevocably.

“So, Nurse—” Eddie’s voice broke through the quiet, pulling Steve from his rose-tinted thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

Eddie grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his face. “I was being sneaky, trying to find out your name,” he explained, “while also asking for a little help here. As much as I’m enjoying the view, it’s getting kind of cold down here.” He shifted slightly, wincing before adding with a smirk, “I thought I’d be clever and ask Nurse Prince Charming—that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head since we cleared up the Charon situation—to help his patient off the ground.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. He couldn’t help but feel charmed by Eddie’s offbeat but endearing mannerisms. In all his life, he couldn’t remember meeting anyone quite like him—and they’d only known each other for a few minutes.

“It’s Steve,” he said finally, his smile lingering. “And I’d prefer to check you out real quick—” he paused, realizing how that sounded, and tried to recover, “—to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too badly before helping you up. That okay?”

Eddie’s grin turned sly. “Oh, darling, you can check me out as much as you want,” he replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Heat flooded Steve’s cheeks at the innuendo, even as he tried to stay professional. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, though he couldn’t deny that having an excuse to touch Eddie wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s nothing life-threatening if you can joke around like that,” Steve said, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Eddie snorted—a sound that shouldn’t have been cute but somehow was—while Steve carefully began to palpate his ribs.

“My uncle always said my last words would be a joke,” Eddie mused, wincing slightly as Steve pressed on a tender spot. “Probably after my big mouth got me into trouble.”

Steve chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light as he continued his examination. “Well, I’m not letting you test that theory tonight, so sit tight.”

Eddie’s ribs were bruised, and he’d probably be sore for a few days, but thankfully, there was no serious injury. Steve helped him up carefully, Bear trailing close, unusually subdued but steadfast. The dog stuck by their sides as Steve walked Eddie around the van to its rear. Following Eddie’s quiet instructions, Steve opened the door and helped him settle inside.

The interior was cramped but functional. A mattress with a thick sleeping bag was tucked in the back, surrounded by scattered clothes, empty bottles, a bong, a pizza box, and an acoustic guitar propped against the passenger seat. The van had the unmistakable feel of a makeshift home, and Steve’s heart sank.

Eddie caught him staring, and a nervous laugh bubbled out as he rushed to explain. “It’s not what it looks like... God, I can’t believe I just said that. Jeez—” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, grimacing from the strain. After a moment, he added, quieter, “I know it looks bad, okay? But it’s just for a few days. Until I get back on my feet. It’s fine. Just a hiccup.”

The words were defensive, but the shame lurking beneath them hit Steve like a punch to the gut. Eddie was trying to downplay it, but the tightness in his voice gave him away. Steve wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Bear whined softly, breaking the silence. The big dog nudged Eddie’s thigh with his muzzle, his soulful brown eyes a perfect mirror of Eddie’s own.

Eddie, who’d been so terrified of Bear earlier, now reached out instinctively, stroking the thick fur of his head and neck. His fingers found the sweet spot behind Bear’s ears, and the dog leaned into the touch, letting out a contented huff.

“You were planning to sleep here tonight?” Steve asked softly, the question heavy with concern.

Eddie didn’t look up. He just nodded, his hand still moving absently through Bear’s fur.

Steve cursed silently. The thought of Eddie spending the night in this van, in freezing temperatures, sent a chill down his spine. Even if he kept the engine running, the risks—carbon monoxide poisoning, frostbite, worse—were too high. Steve couldn’t stomach the idea.

“Come home with us,” he said, the words tumbling out before the thought had fully formed. He just knew he couldn’t leave Eddie here.

“What?” Eddie blinked, his hand pausing mid-stroke. Bear, displeased by the interruption, let out a soft, insistent whuff and nudged Eddie’s hand again.

Steve forced a smile, trying to sound casual. “Bear and I both want you to come home with us. I can bandage your ribs properly, and you can keep petting Bear. Clearly, he’s touch-starved and desperately needs some affection.”

Once again, Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Eddie raised an eyebrow, scanning his face carefully. "Oh, so Bear needs some affection, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating. “Look, are you coming or not? Because I’m not leaving until you agree, and I’ll have you know Bear can be very persuasive.”

At that, Bear whuffed again, his tail thumping lightly against the van floor, as if to second Steve’s statement.

Eddie’s lips twitched, and for a moment, Steve thought he might actually laugh. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really,” Steve admitted, his tone softening. “But seriously, Eddie. Let us take care of you. Just for tonight.”

Eddie hesitated, his gaze dropping to Bear, who was still gazing up at him with unrelenting devotion. Finally, he sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. But only because your dog’s giving me the eyes.”

Steve grinned, relief flooding through him. “Smart choice. Bear’s impossible to say no to.”

Bear, as if understanding, let out a low, approving bark.

As Eddie took the hand Steve offered, his fingers cold but steady, Steve felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the touch itself. It was the kind of warmth that came with hope—the quiet, surprising hope that maybe neither of them would have to spend Christmas alone this year.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

My jewish community, friends, rabbi, and educators: We are very invested in helping you be jewish. Do you want to help read the haftarah? Here's a chanukiah! You can have it!! Borrow these books! Here's some books! You need more books... Come to pesach! Come to the chanukah party! When are your classes done? We need a minyan for once!

Me and my 50000 IQ: What if I am Secretly Appropriating judaism? What if I am doing a Cultural Appropriation........

[muniimyg]

⋆꙳•❅ myg: true love ❆•꙳

in which you bring your boyfriend home to meet the entire family for the first time; aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews—everyone. only for them to fall in love with him almost as much as you have. in their excitement, they take all of yoonig's attention—leaving you all sulky and annoyed like the grinch

series m.list // taglist

note: lol ... idk (again)

warning: exhibition kink (they get caught... kinda)/corruption kink, kitchen sex, food play (yoongi licks/sucks cookie dough off her titties), standing/carrying position, doggy, dirty talk, ass slapping, yoongi cums on her face

//

you didn’t see this coming. 

yet, it’s not like you expected this to be a disaster.

the laughter in the living room feels like a distant hum, the chatter of your family’s voices weaving together like a fanbase at their favourite artist's concert. yoongi is at the center of it all, effortlessly charming your relatives, cracking jokes, and sharing stories. his confidence has your aunties cackling, and even your dad—who rarely laughs at anyone’s jokes—has a grin tugging at his lips.

it’s like they’ve known him for years, and you watch, your heart swelling with pride but tightening all at once.

as the day drifts on, yoongi’s laughter fills the house, a constant undercurrent to the flow of conversation. but with every minute that passes, you feel further and further away from him.

he’s a crowd pleaser—so naturally, everyone’s drawn to him. 

your mom asks him about his music, your cousin insists on showing him her latest dance moves, your brother talks to him about his gaming setup, and your nieces and nephews hang off his every word like he’s the coolest person in the world.

it should feel good, watching him shine. 

but it doesn’t.

it feels awful. it feels dark and annoying. it feels… not very merry.

not when he’s not looking your way.

not when he hasn’t even noticed how your heart sinks a little more whenever someone else steals his attention.

it should be yours.

by the time the house quiets, everyone finally settling into their rooms to sleep, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows on the countertops.

you should feel relieved. 

you should be happy he’s fitting in so well with your family. but instead, you’re pulling flour and sugar from the pantry, your fingers moving mechanically as you mix the ingredients for cookies.

it’s a way to pass the time, a way to keep your hands busy so they don’t shake from all the fucking jealousy. 

you sigh, glancing at the clock. 

it’s late, and he’s still not back.

the truth is, he’s probably helping your brother with the kids. but why can’t you stop yourself from thinking about it so bitterly? he rather help your brother put his kids down than to be  scraping dough into perfect little balls and placing them on the tray with you? you try to push the feeling of abandonment away, but it keeps pressing in, an ache in your chest that only grows with each passing second.

“i’m gonna break up with him,” you murmur under your breath, your heart tightening when you realize how badly you want him beside you. “next christmas.”

you hear the soft thud of footsteps behind you, and for a second, you think it’s just your tired mind playing tricks. but then you feel it—his presence.

he leans against the doorframe, his eyes dark in the low light, a frown pulling at his lips when he notices you.

“you’re still up?” he asks, his voice rough like he’s just woken up from a deep sleep.

“yeah,” you reply, your voice a little too sharp. “baking.”

he steps into the kitchen, his gaze never leaving you. his movements are slow, deliberate, and when he finally reaches you, he doesn’t say anything else. he just wraps his arms around your waist from behind, his chin settling gently on your shoulder.

his breath is warm against your neck, and you almost want to pull away, the tension in the air thickening the closer he gets.

“what are you making?” he asks, his voice quiet now, almost teasing.

“cookies,” you mutter, trying to focus on the tray in front of you. you move the cookies to the cooling rack, but you’re aware of his every move behind you. “for santa.”

“not for me?”

“ask literally anyone else in my family to make you cookies. i’m sure they’d love to feed one to you too.”

his fingers brush lightly against your arms, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“hey,” he says, his voice softer now, like he’s sensing something isn’t right. his lips press gently to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “what’s wrong?”

you swallow, your throat tight as you try to keep your voice steady. 

“nothing.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face, his expression concerned but unreadable. 

“did i do something?”

your chest tightens. 

the tears sting the back of your eyes, and you feel that lump form in your throat again. you try to force the words out, but they catch in your chest.

“it’s nothing. sorry, i know i have an attitude right now. go to bed. i’m gonna finish up here—”

“no,” he states. “tell me what’s going on, baby.”

you hesitate. 

then, you give in.

why should you hide it anyway? you know him. he won’t let you go until he knows what’s going on in your head and until it’s resolved enough for him to feel some sense of peace. yoongi can’t go to bed if you’re upset. 

“it’s just… everyone was… you were with them all day, and i just—” you break off, feeling the words slipping from you now. “i just felt like you forgot about me. like you were… everywhere but here. and i don’t know why it feels like this, yoongi. i don’t know why it annoys me so much. i’m so glad everyone loves you—but hello? i love you too. why’d you have to ditch me all day? it’s christmas in 20 minutes and this is the longest we’ve talked all day.”

you’re near tears, your voice cracking with the weight of it.

his arms tighten around you, pulling you back against him, his chest warm against your back. you close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of his touch, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your neck. “i didn’t mean to make you feel that way. i got caught up. i didn’t realize i was leaving you out.”

his voice is low and thick with something you can’t place, and when he tilts your head to face him, the look in his eyes makes your breath hitch.

“you’re all i want, okay?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away the first tear that escapes. “just you. i was getting along and getting to know them for you. you know that, right?”

“i do,” you sigh. “i’m mad at myself too. i don’t know why i’m so greedy when it comes to you… but i can’t help it.”

he leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours, gentle at first, before deepening the kiss, pulling you closer, if that was even possible.

the world outside the kitchen melts away, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat, his breath, and the weight of the moment.

“that’s okay,” yoongi comforts you. “i’d feel the same if our positions were switched.”

“really?”

“absolutely,” he chuckles. “i don’t think i ever told you this… but that day you met all my friends and kept laughing at jin’s jokes? i went boxing with jungkook the next day to get all the anger out of my system.”

your eyes widen. 

“you went boxing?” 

“yeah.”

“that’s really hot,” you deadpan. “show me proof.”

he smirks. “why? does it turn you on?”

you scoff at him. 

“duh.”

yoongi’s smirk lingers, like he knows exactly what’s happening to your heart rate right now, but he doesn’t give you a chance to protest. 

in one smooth motion, he pulls you into him, lifting you effortlessly and placing you onto the kitchen counter. the cold surface of the counter sends a shiver through your body, but the heat radiating from him—his hands on your waist, his body pressed against yours—quickly warms you.

he leans in, his lips brushing over your ear as he teases, “you’re like the grinch when you're jealous, you know.”

you pull back slightly, glaring at him. “the grinch?”

“yeah,” he chuckles softly, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a slow, teasing kiss that leaves your lips tingling. then, he places his hand on top of your left breast. he squeezes it and chuckles; “hey… your heart’s about to grow three sizes... i can feel it.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. 

“you’re unbelievable.”

“oh, i know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jawline before dipping down to place soft, lingering kisses along your neck. “but don’t worry. i think i like my grinchy little girlfriend.”

his breath is warm on your skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to feel the smoothness of your skin. you shiver again, not from the cold this time.

“you’re annoying,” you mutter, but it’s hard to keep the edge in your voice when his touch has your mind scrambled. “and i’m still irritated.”

“i know,” he says, a low chuckle vibrating against your skin. “but if it’s any consolation, i think you’re pretty damn cute when you’re all possessive.”

“i’m not possessive,” you argue, even as your heart beats faster, as you shift a little on the counter.

“uh-huh,” he smirks, his lips brushing over yours in a quick kiss. “that’s not what it looks like.”

you glare at him, half annoyed, half amused. 

“you’re the one teasing me about it.”

“true,” he says, his gaze turning playful, his thumb running over the curve of your waist. “but i think i’d let you get away with anything, even if you did steal my presents or throw snowballs at my friends.”

“you’re pushing it,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your words, not when he’s looking at you like that—like he knows exactly how to push your buttons and make you melt all at once.

he leans in, his lips brushing yours again, this time slower, the kiss deepening in a way that makes everything else in the world seem irrelevant. you press into him, hands sliding up to his neck, your fingers threading into his hair.

“maybe i should keep pushing,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and husky. “i’ll make it worth your while.”

you pull back, breathless, meeting his eyes with a mix of amusement and desire. 

“you’re insufferable.”

“and completely yours.”

you huff at him. “shut up.”

he just grins, his hands resting on your thighs, pulling you closer until your lips are just an inch away. “you know you love it,” he teases, kissing you again, slow and teasing.

“i might,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper against his lips, “but i’m still the grinch.”

“yeah, you are,” he agrees with a smile, his lips brushing your cheek. “but you’re my grinch.”

you sigh, shaking your head. 

“you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” he says, his tone smug, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pulls you even closer. “i’m very lucky.”

yoongi knows how to handle you. 

you and your attitude. 

he knows just how to kiss you and how to fuck the grinch in you away. 

but, like he said; he doesn’t mind it. he loves it when you get possessive. he loves it when you sulk. he loves it when you react the way you do because it reminds him that you have real and big feelings for him. 

“miss my cock, huh?” he hums in your ear, as he spreads your legs. 

you’re still sitting on the kitchen countertop. yoongi stands in between your legs and he’s pushing your panties to the side. before you can answer, he spits on his cock and shoves it inside your tight pussy. 

“m-mhmm,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

he moves closer to you, biting your shoulder. 

yoongi begins to thrust in and out of you. he fucks you, panting in your ear as he goes. 

“f-fuck,” he grunts. “so tight. is that why you’re being such a bitch, baby? needed to cum all day? should’ve just pulled me aside.”

you moan. 

“f-fuck me where? in my childhood bedroom? you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you mutter. “you and your corruption kink. w-what now? you’re fucking me in my family kitchen… what if they come downstairs? all your hard work of trying to impress them will go to waste when they see you fucking me like this.”

he hisses. “like what? like you’re a dirty slut? aren’t you, though? took you like 5 seconds to get wet the minute i fingered you.” 

you huff at him. 

“so w-what? nnghh, you’re fucking me and acting l-like—oh my g-god—like you don’t love this.” 

he bites your shoulder. 

“i do love this,” he admits. “i love you.”

"love you too."

as yoongi fucks you, you begin to moan a little too loud. before you know it, he covers your mouth with his hand and scolds you to shut the fuck up. 

then, when you quiet, he turns to the side and eyes your cookie dough. he scoops a bit with his fingers before spreading it over your tits. he leaves a plop of it on your nipple. you giggle from the texture and because you know what’s to come. 

yoongi dips his head low and begins to lick the cookie dough off. 

he sucks your nipple, taking his time. as he swallows, he moans from the sweetness. your fingers get lost in his hair. you throw your head back from the sensation—the warmth of his tongue against your nipples, the way he tightens his lips and tugs at them… everything. he’s so good at this.

he’s so good with your body. 

“delicious, baby…”

“yeah?”

he kisses you. 

as he kisses you, he lifts you up. keeping his cock inside you, you wrap your legs and arms around him, helping him carry your weight. yoongi is strong, has always been… he loves this shit. 

yoongi thrusts and you help by meeting him halfway. you pull yourself up and down. you bounce and he grunts from how hard your bodies slam into each other. as he rides the high, he places you back on the countertop. he lifts your leg and puts one over his shoulder. 

with a clear view of your pussy, he uses his other hand to play with your clit. 

“ohh..” you whimper. “y-yoongi…”

you feel every curve of his cock inside you. as it throbs, your walls tighten and he feels it. it excites him. 

“you like doing this to me?” you moan. “you like fucking me like this, baby? you like fucking me while my entire family is asleep upstairs? are you sick in the fucking head? you want them to find us like this, don’t you?”

“shut up,” yoongi grunts. “fucking naughty girl… you deserve this.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly. “i guess that’s true… but you’ve been mean to me all day. i think i deserve you like this. deep and on the verge of being caught. maybe they should find us. that way they can hate you a little. maybe they’ll think you’re disgusting for fucking their precious ___ in the kitchen—”

“shut. up.”

yoongi then pulls himself out and grabs you by the waist. he puts you down, roughly turning you over. he then shoves his dick back inside you, hitting you from behind. 

he slaps your ass and you let out a whimper. 

“they’re gonna wake up,” you tease him. “slap my ass again, baby. i’ll scream and they’ll come running down—”

“___, i swear to god—”

“fuck me harder, daddy.”

yoongi loses his mind. 

he slaps your add and grabs your neck. he tightens his grip around it as he fucks you. he fucks you sloppy and fast. he’s lost in his own world of pleasure, not giving a fuck if it’s too much for you. 

it’s not. 

you love it.

he fucks you hard, rough, and fast. 

as he reaches his climax, he pulls out and pushes you down. you follow and get on your knees. 

yoongi cums on your face. 

he lets out a shaky moan as he pumps himself. you stick your tongue out, waiting for the very last drop. just as you’re about to swallow—

“yoongi?”

yoongi’s head snaps towards the bottom of the staircase. his eyes widen at the sight of your brother. he’s rubbing his eyes.

“s-shit… hey. what are you doing up?” yoongi clears his voice, trying to play it cool. he shifts his body, hiding you. it’s a good thing the kitchen lighting is dim enough to help hide you and that he has a robe on.

“just came downstairs to turn up the heat,” then, he peers over. “are you baking?”

yoongi chuckles. 

“___ is… she went to the washroom.”

your brother laughs. “did you guys get into a fight? she only bakes at this hour if she’s upset.”

yoongi laughs awkwardly. 

“think we’re all made up now.”

finally, after what feels like an eternity, your brother laughs one final time before bidding yoongi goodnight and merry christmas. still, yoongi holds his breath for a second, waiting for the sound of footsteps retreating. then, when he’s sure he’s alone, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“holy fuck. that was too close,” he mutters under his breath, turning just enough to give you a look. his eyes meet yours and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—maybe a little amusement, maybe a little guilt. 

yoongi’s hands hover for a moment before he helps you up, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that surprises even him.

you stare at him, your eyes wide with amusement, and for a split second, it almost feels like time slows down.

he feels his chest tighten, his breath catching in his throat. his throat feels dry, like he’s trying to swallow down the guilt that’s suddenly creeping in.

then, out of nowhere, you burst into laughter. 

the sound is bright, full of life, and it hits him harder than he expected. his stomach twists, and for a moment, it’s like his heart stops. his face stiffens, eyes narrowing slightly, the feeling of almost being caught hanging heavy between you.

arms crossing over his chest in a defensive motion, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture too—a little hunched, shoulders tight, like he’s trying to hide the nerves still buzzing under his skin. he presses his lips together. 

“it’s not funny,” he says quietly. “i could've been kicked out. your family would have had very valid reasons to hate me.”

“relax,” you say, your voice soft, teasing, and then your lips are on his. "my brother is blind without his glasses."

the kiss is light, a quick peck that softens him, like a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. he freezes for just a second, feeling the warmth of your lips, the way you fit against him. you pull back, your eyes meeting his, and there’s a softness there that he wasn’t expecting—something that makes him feel like maybe he doesn’t have to carry the weight of this on his own.

"still..." yoongi murmurs.

“they love you… and i’m grown.”

but still, he’s not entirely convinced. 

yoongi looks at you again, his expression softening, just the slightest hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

“never letting you convince me to fuck you in a shared space ever again,” he mutters, voice still rough but softer, the playful tone slipping back into place. 

he doesn’t want to dwell on the mess.

he never does.

instead, he takes a step closer, letting his hand rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer as if to remind himself that no matter how much chaos there is, this—you—are his calm.

you're his one true love.

“it was easy, though,” you tease him. “you and your exhibition kink.”

he sighs. “i know, but—”

“they love you. i love you.”

yoongi’s gaze softens. 

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you say, as he kisses the top of your head. you look up at him and smile. “merry christmas, baby. let’s get to bed. i brought a santa hat for you to wear cos i want you to cum in my chimney.”

[1d1195]

The Lottery III

Read The Lottery here | ~4k words

From me: takes place during her second year in town. It's Christmas time 🎄

Warnings: fluffy

Summary: It's truly embarrassing how smitten Harry is with her.

“Please, please, please!”

“No,” his voice was solid, flat, devoid of emotion. Impervious to her pleading it seemed.

She frowned and looked at him with a look that Harry assumed was supposed to be menacing. But it looked about as menacing as a baby bunny could be. “Harry Styles, people will think you’re The Grinch.”

“They already think that, Peach,” he rolled his eyes and moved to the next table check that the ketchup wasn’t completely depleted.

“Then I’ll think you’re The Grinch.”

That seemed to do something to his brain because he paused running around the diner. He looked at her with the same irritation that he always directed at her. The kind that made him annoyed because she wanted two different pancakes. Or that she didn’t wear the proper coat in the snow. Or that her tires needed to be replaced on her car, but she didn’t mind (refused to replace them) because she wasn’t driving very far these days and really, it wasn’t that big of a deal because it probably wasn’t going to snow in the remainder of that March.

Harry shook his head, remembering he was supposed to answer her. “Peach,” he sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll look ridiculous.” There was no one else in the diner. It was nearly five in the morning. Much too early to have this conversation and even earlier to be having an argument.

But Harry thought she looked so cute. Cold but bright-eyed. “Well, that’s why I came now to ask. No one will know it’s you. We’ll park your car at my house, and you’ll tell everyone you have an appointment in the city. You’ll look unrecognizable.”

He stared at her for another moment before he turned to the coffee pot that he was brewing to make it cold for her. She was hours too early so it wouldn’t be cold. Her last pitcher was used up yesterday. Which only made him grumpier that he didn’t have what she liked. On top of being asked to do her ridiculous task. The silence was deafening. She smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll order regular pancakes for a week,” she offered.

He rolled his eyes. Maybe because he knew that he would still make her stupid pancakes and two omelets if she asked. “If anyone finds out s’me, I’ll tell them y’drugged me, Peach.”

“That’s very reasonable. While I’m asking for things, is it possible, I could borrow your oven for cookies and your coffee burners for hot chocolate?” She batted those pretty eyelashes at him, and he wondered just how obvious it was to her that he would do anything she asked of him.

“Y’know... I don’t do the whole town celebration thing,” he reminded her turning back to the coffee pot because if he looked at her any longer, he was going to tell her everything and this was not the time nor the place. She also wasn’t someone he wanted to know all his dark secrets. She was the one person that didn’t look at him with pity and he wanted that to remain true for as long as he could manage.

She frowned. “Well, I do,” which made next to no sense because at the time of asking she had only lived through one town Christmas—kind of. She wasn’t part of the traditions at all but somehow inserted herself into helping as much as she could. “No one will know it’s you,” she reminded him. “And I know you want to help,” she shrugged casually. “Can our pancake deal start tomorrow I’m desperate for peaches and white chocolate chips,” she dropped into her seat.

He didn’t answer, but he assumed she knew he was putty in her hands. “Coffee’s not cold yet,” he grumbled pouring her a hot cup.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to make me cold coffee anyway,” she shrugged and reached over the counter for the sugar and cream only for Harry to smack it away as was their own little tradition. “Oh!” She squealed and hopped out of her seat rushing out the front door as if she saw a ghost.

Harry blinked and hurried after her in case there was some kind of issue or if she saw something troublesome that would get her killed or kidnapped. Not that anything of the sort ever happened in their little town. But leave it to her to find something dangerous. “What—”

Her head was tilted nearly at a sharp forty-five-degree angle looking at the moon, dipping lower in the sky. Some of the stars were still out, and the sky was just starting to turn the slightest light blue. “Isn’t she pretty?” She sighed dreamily. Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest. The same kind that did any time she had him look at the moon. The awe, the fascination, the unadulterated innocence on her face made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, Peach, s’lovely,” he agreed and waited twenty seconds to let her stare. “S’cold out,” he reminded her because she of course didn’t put her coat back on for this expedition. Gently, he placed his hand on her lower back. “C’mon,” he encouraged. “I gotta make y’some pancakes.”

Harry swore she continued looking over her shoulder as he ushered her inside which just made him fall a little harder for her.

*

The day of the town’s Christmas festival Harry did what she said. He talked about his appointment in the city (that he didn’t have) all morning. When nearly everyone he ever knew was in town, he drove his car to her house where no one would notice it was there. He dressed in a red suit, and she drove him over in her own car dressed in an elf ensemble. Had Harry known she had a part to play he may have agreed a little faster. She was adorable, the shoes curled into a swirl at the toes, she was decked in red and green from head to toe and sure Santa was a symbol of Christmas but she was the near embodiment of it as well.

The second she stepped out of the car after all the little ones shouted excitedly for Santa, she pulled up the rear carrying a bag of candy canes over her shoulder.

“Miss Peach! You’re an elf too!?” Someone called when they realized the bookstore owner was in tow with Santa himself.

“You know Santa?!”

She giggled as Harry threw his voice and laughed at the little ones in awe over the pretty girl. They were right to be in awe. She was lovely. Making this happen. Picking someone certifiably Grinch-like. Yet he did it anyway.

“Santa’s sleigh is being fixed a couple towns over, so I picked him up and he was so grateful he agreed to come say hi to everyone! One of the elves gave me a costume to borrow for the day,” she explained. “Santa is going to see if he can get everything you all want, if you’ve been good.”

So, Harry took his seat on a chair that was much too poofy and frilly. It was set among a huge sack of mini presents, a mailbox for letters, and she dumped her bag of candy canes into a bucket. There were cookies and hot chocolate at the table beside the setup, run by her employees, curtesy of Harry’s oven and coffee maker. She stood beside Harry the whole afternoon as so many little ones came to tell Santa what they wanted.

What was worse was it was fun. Harry actually enjoyed being Santa. The little ones were so funny, and she was adorable dressed in her little get up. “Miss Peach,” one little boy whispered toward the end of their little event. He waved her over several yards away from Santa’s chair.

Naturally, she hurried over, leaving Harry with a pair of nine-year-old girls who wanted a lot of makeup and dolls. She greeted his parents who smiled knowingly at the cute bookstore owner with a little baby in a stroller beside the boy who waved her over.

“Is that the real Santa?” He asked gulping.

She smiled. “I got him off the sleigh and everything.”

He looked down nervously. She knew him from her story hours and going to the bookstore to do crafts related to the book of the week. “I’m kind of scared of Santa, Miss Peach,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she pouted. “There’s nothing to be scared of,” she whispered. “He’s very nice and just wants to know what you want for Christmas.”

“Will you go with me?” He asked.

She nodded and held his hand. “Hey Santa, Caden here is a little nervous,” she told Harry. Behind the hat, wig, glasses, a white beard and a firm pillow tucked into his shirt, it was next to impossible to know it was Harry.

How anyone couldn’t tell those pretty green eyes belonged to someone other than Harry was ridiculous to her, but whatever. She was eternally grateful he was doing this for her. Honestly, she couldn’t fathom why he would do it for her, but she wasn’t going to question it long enough for him to back out.

There was a kind smile beneath the white beard and mustache. One that she had only seen a handful of times. When it appeared on his face in the diner it was nearly always hidden from view—but every once in a while, she would see his pink lips turn up in a genuine smile. Happy over a joke someone made. Or how a little one told Miss Peach they had a crush on her.

She wondered if Caden knew how lucky they were to witness such a soft, beautiful sight. “S’that so?” He chuckled.

Caden tucked himself behind her leg and she bent to scoop the six-year-old into her arms. “Santa is a good friend of mine, he just wants to make sure you get what you want,” she assured him. “Do you want me to tell him?” She asked stepping closer toward Harry. He hid his face against her shoulder. Gently, she stroked the back of his head. “I used to be scared of Santa too,” she whispered. “But we’re friends now, right Santa?” She asked glancing over. Harry nodded, waiting patiently. Letting her do her thing. “Here,” she walked to Harry, wedged herself between Harry’s legs and perched on his thigh, stretching her own legs out so she wasn’t putting her full weight on his body. She sat Caden on her lap facing her and Harry.

Poor Caden looked like he was about to have a breakdown.

Harry knew what Caden was feeling almost at the exact same time. Other than a touch on her back or smacking her hand away, Harry hardly ever touched her. Now, her whole pretty butt was on his thigh. Had he known this would have happened, he wouldn’t have argued with her at all. She was so casual about it, as if she sat herself in his lap all the time. How was this not a moment in time that caused for absolute shock for her? Was he breathing? It felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, encouragingly. “I’m right here, tell us about what you want Santa to bring,” she ran a hand across his cheek. “Do you want... a Lego set?” She asked. He glanced up shyly at Santa and nodded. Harry smiled behind his beard reassuringly. “And a skateboard?” She continued guessing what a little boy his age would want. He nodded again. “And... a unicorn stuffie?” She smirked.

He frowned and shook his head. Which made the two of them laugh. “My sister likes unicorns, not me,” he told them. Harry nodded.

“So, a skateboard for you and a unicorn for—” Without missing a beat, Harry watched her mouth the name of the younger sibling. “Lily.”

“You know Lily?” He asked, pure wonder in his eyes. Staring up at Harry like he was the most amazing person in the world. Harry did think he was the Grinch because his heart truly melted and it was all thanks to the pretty, peachie girl.

“Santa knows everything,” she whispered. “Can you say thank you?”

“Thank you... Santa?” Caden asked, hopping down from her lap and turning bravely toward him. She stepped away from his legs which made him feel cold and grumpy again. But he remembered to stay focused on Caden.

“Yes, lad?” Caden ushered him closer waving his hand toward him. Harry leaned down further so Caden could whisper in his ear.

“Can you help me get a present for Miss Peach?”

Harry looked at her as she gathered a candy cane, a cookie, a present, and a cup of hot chocolate for Caden to take. “Absolutely.”

*

When Santa left, Harry magically returned with his car and headed to the diner to check on things. “You missed all the fun Harry,” she sighed stepping behind the counter and heading for the coffee pots filled with hot water for her hot chocolate stand. “I brought Santa in and everything.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and stuck his arm out to stop her. “Did he tell you he was bring y’coal?” he rolled his eyes and turned her physically by her shoulders before she reached the coffee pots. “Get out,” he said.

“Miss Peach getting coal?” Edith laughed. “Harry, don’t be ridiculous.”

She smiled, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Can I please have more hot water for hot chocolate?” She asked.

He sighed, like it was a big to do. But he did it anyway. She was getting really good at reading his eyes. She could see the slight amusement. Or what she hoped was amusement. Maybe it was just more annoyance, but the light shining a little differently in his irises. “I’ll keep it coming,” he shrugged and handed her two of the coffee pots.

“You are like Santa himself,” she grinned and carefully walked out with the hot liquid. Someone held the door for her and Harry headed to the kitchen, smirking once he was behind the cover of the wall away from the rest of the diner.

*

Christmas morning in a small town was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was literally a Hallmark movie. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground. Against the lights it was the stuff of dreams. She walked through the quiet town, her second one in town but the first one she had ever spent away from her family.

“Peach?” Harry called. He was taking a bag out behind the diner to the trash. The door to the back was open to what she imagined was his apartment. She heard it was attached to the diner, but she had never seen beyond it.

She gave a wave and walked toward him. “Merry Christmas, Harry!” She chirped and dove in for a hug. Harry awkwardly wrapped his arms around her and despite his awkwardness, it felt like the best Christmas present he had ever received.

“Merry Christmas,” he hummed. “I thought y’were heading t’your family’s place for the holiday?”

“I did last year, but I thought I would try and start my own traditions. They’re going to be down this weekend actually.”

“Make sure y’bring them by,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “How about you? Any traditions?”

Traditions hadn’t been part of Harry’s vocabulary in ages. But Gemma was coming and that made him immensely happy. Well, as happy as someone as grumpy as he could be. “M’sister is coming around lunch time. I do a Christmas brunch, and a lot of people stop by.”

“Oh, that’s really lovely,” she grinned. “I’m sure you’re busy then and I don’t want to keep you. Have a happy—”

“You’re invited,” he practically blurted. She blinked, surprise coloring her pretty face.

But she recovered quickly and the smile on her mouth returned and made Harry think that even if he never touched her again, he could settle for a smile directed at her. “Really?” She asked. “I don’t want to mess with tradition.”

But that was far from the truth because she had already inserted herself into so many town projects and made the town so much better just by existing. Not to mention she got him to dress as Santa. Tradition flew out the window the moment she stepped foot in the diner.

“S’a whole town thing.”

“Well then, I really have to run because I cannot show up empty handed. Muffins or cupcakes?”

“Y’don’t have to—”

“I’ll make both unless you tell me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and her stubbornness. “Muffins, Peach. Thank you.”

“Christmas looks good on you, Santa,” she nodded. “You’ve got the best smile, Harry,” she waved and headed back the way she came.

*

Her mom always hosted parties and if she didn’t then it was a neighbor, Grandma, or aunt. She became a makeshift hostess and always tried to make herself useful. The second she walked into the diner she was greeted with cheers and Merry Christmases. Honestly, other than it being a holiday and the garland draped around the place, it was no different than walking into the diner any other day. She scurried to the counter where all the food was lining it, the warmers keeping the food hot, just waiting to be devoured. She could hear noise from the kitchen. Without thinking much longer, she stepped behind the counter, set her muffins toward the end of the line of food, and began gathering the plates and silverware to put at the beginning of the line.

The moment he heard clinking, he stepped from the kitchen. “What the he—”

“Oh hi,” she chirped over her shoulder. “Just making myself useful.”

“You’re not supposed to be behind the counter.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas and I’m helping.”

“I like her,” a woman stepped from behind the kitchen wall as well and smiled with a wave. “I’m Gemma,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Harry’s sister?”

“The one and only,” she had the same pretty smile that Harry did. She wondered who they inherited from. But the smile seemed much more natural on Gemma’s face than Harry’s.

“Peach,” he rubbed a hand over his face. “If y’get hurt, m’insurance doesn’t cover annoying pains in the butt.”

“What a nice thing to say on Christmas,” Gemma rolled her eyes. “How many times did you come back here when Mum told us not to?” Harry turned to the kitchen before he could answer.

She frowned. “I just wanted to help.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry is just a grump,” she shrugged. “Thank you for the help,” she grinned sweetly. “I’m going to bring Mr. Sour out again but please make yourself at home,” she assured.

People chatted with Gemma for most of the time they ate. She helped Harry carry food out from the kitchen even though he grunted at her in annoyance each time she picked something up. She ignored him making a plate for both herself, and Harry. “Harry come eat,” she held the plates of food in her hands. “Everyone is good for the moment, and you deserve it,” she told him.

He sighed as he always did. Like talking to her was getting a splinter taken out of his hand. He grabbed the plates from her and walked toward the side of the diner where there were two seats open. “Miss Peach, these muffins are delicious!”

She grinned. “Thank you, an old family recipe,” she said sweetly and plucked a piece of bacon from her plate. Harry headed back to the kitchen and she pouted but he returned quickly holding a cup of coffee for her, cooled and iced as always. “Thank you.” Harry sat across from her eating silently, but it was comfortable. Peaceful even. The chatter around them was comforting. “You do this every year?” She asked. He nodded. “It’s nice, Harry, thank you for inviting me,” she grinned. He didn’t look up from his food, but he nodded again, and she was certain the corners of his mouth twitched in an upwards direction.

Harry was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a dark green button down. It brought out the gold specks in his eyes and enhanced how green they were in general. It was her favorite look on him. Given he only seemed to have about six or so shirts in total. His hair was styled just so, so it wouldn’t fall in his face. “Let me get a picture of you and Gemma.”

“No,” he shook his head sipping his orange juice.

“Oh, come on, Harry. She’s your sister.”

He shook his head. “I don’t do pictures.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gemma, would you like a picture with Harry?” She called across the room.

“God, would I!” She hurried over and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. She kissed the side of his face and he rolled his eyes but the smile was a little harder to hide that time around. She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it out to get a picture of the siblings.

“Say Merry Christmas!”

Harry smiled, genuinely. Which made her utterly happy. Gemma kissed his cheek again. “I love you, little brother.”

He shook his head as she hurried back to her conversation across the room. Harry cleared his throat and reached into his pocket pulling out a small box, wrapped perfectly, and slid it across the table toward her.

Of course, her gifts for everyone in town that had made her feel so welcomed were at her house. She planned on giving them out at the diner the following morning. Let the day be about family. So she was unprepared and felt terrible that she had nothing for Harry.

But she was also so shocked she simply gaped. “Harry,” she managed. “I don’t—”

“S’not a big deal,” he shrugged. “Caden... he wanted t’make sure y’got a gift. I asked him t’help me pick it out. Told him Santa left a note here since he knows y’here a lot,” he explained. “S’really from Caden.” But it wasn’t. Not really. It was from Harry. The grumpy diner owner who made her pancakes, gave her a hard time because she was a nuisance. “Go on,” he encouraged. She pulled the paper off, revealing a small brown box.

“Your gift is at home,” she told him.

“Y’didn’t need t’get me anything,” he rolled his eyes.

“Of course I did, Harry—”

“Will y’jus’ open it, Peach? Y’making it a huge deal and honestly, s’hardly anything.”

She opened the lid and inside was a square piece of cardboard. A delicate chain draped along the middle of it, holding the small crescent moon charm at the center of a pair of matching earrings. “Harry,” she brushed her finger on the charm. “This is too much,” she frowned knowing that he probably spent way too much on someone who was a pain in his ass.

“Y’do a lot for this town,” he shrugged. “S’the least Caden could do.”

She tilted her head at him. “Thank you,” she plucked the necklace off the cardboard and quickly secured it around her neck. Her ears already had Christmas presents jingling and dangling from the lobes, but the necklace looked delicate and pretty against the top of her shirt. “I’ll bring your gift tomorrow.”

“Whatever helps y’sleep at night, Peach. Y’want more food?” He asked standing and grabbing her plate at the same time.

She played with the charm at the base of her throat and nodded. “Please," she wondered if Harry was aware of how much she truly liked him. How sweet he really was despite the front he put up in front of everyone else. But she supposed for today, since it was Christmas, she would let him play his grumpy self and enjoy the thoughtful gift he bought for her and the yummy food he made.

She hoped this tradition would stick around every year.

--

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[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 8: The Trapeze Artist's Fall

It was his second week of school for him. In no way was he excited. Gotham was a fresh start for the young boy, private school was meant to be a fun experience - many would kill to be able to get premium education - but he finds he misses the countryside hills that he'd watch pass by as his mamă taught him how to spell and read. He misses his tată teaching him math and cool sciencey things.

He misses his family.

The school wasn't the problem, though he found he was falling behind in learning due to his homeschooled life beforehand. The problem was his classmates, the ridicule he'd get for simple slip-ups. It wasn't his fault English is his second language, it isn't his fault he slips-up.

Last Friday one boy in the class, Mac Doust, had put gum in his hair. Dick ended up crying in the bathroom until Alfred came to pick him up - not Bruce, no, Bruce was as unavailable as Dick's dead parents honestly.

Gripping the straps of his backpack Dick mutters under his breath, trying to assure himself he'd be okay. The whole weekend he had practiced hiding his accent so kids would think he was normal.

Upon walking into the school he held his head high and didn't mess around, he headed straight to class.

...

That's strange, why was the door only opened partly? Ms Xavier keeps the door wide open, always greeting Dick with a wide smile and some Romanian she had put in the effort of learning for him.

Dick opens the door hesitantly, peeking inside.

He only gets to see Mac's stupid grin before water is dumped on him, the metal bucket clanging on his head harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, he stands there, the bucket on his head as the sounds of giggles and cackles fill his ears. Warm tears contrast with the cold water soaking his face.

Dick went home early that day. The incident struck a chord in him. If he wanted to stop the bullying he had to become better than them, put in the work and effort.

He will be popular, he will be better.

He will never do that cruel prank to anyone. Never

Looking down at his phone as he walks he feels nothing but a cringing sort of pain. He stooped to a level he never thought he'd get to. It was disgusting really.

Dick feels like he's no better than Mac. That he's no hero. The video plays on loop as the man takes in the pained look on your face, he can't bring himself to look at the messages in the group chat.

They're most likely supporting it, congratulating him for doing what they all wished to do.

Hell, if he was in their place he'd probably be celebrating it too. But to be there, to be the reason you reacted that way, is sickening for the young male.

Even now all he can think about is himself, how he feels. God, how self-centered could he be? It's not like he was the victim in this.. But still, surely he can't be the true bad guy in this, right?

Dick had decided against getting driven home, he felt that if he walked to the manor in the rain it'd be enough to be even with you - look, we both ended up soaked! Everything's better now!

He chuckles under his breath at his thoughts - what would Aranea even think of him?

She'd probably be angry at him for his actions but comfort him, telling him the things he needed to hear. That it wasn't his fault, that Y/N was a bad person who deserved it.

Whatever words needed so he could sleep at night really..

Dick finally decides to exit the looping video, the image of you burnt into his mind forever.

He goes into his messages and pulls up Aranea's comm number - he had put it into his phone so they could talk off shift, something she was hesitant about but ultimately caved in.

He types out a simple message. Then another. Then another.

"Heyyyy!!! Are you busy rn??"

"It'd be cool to hang out and patrol together!!"

"Bruce doesn't have to know"

He stares at the messages, waiting for them to be marked as read. 1 minute turned into 5, then 5 turned into 10. Dick sighs and exits out of the message log, clearly Aranea is busy.

He gazes on the chat log "Y/N. 🤮"

Maybe he should message her? Say sorry and try to make it up to her.. Yeah, that's what Aranea would say to do! She was always about communication.

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm super sorry for what I did|

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm|

"I know you're|

"What I did wasn't right. I'm sorry that I did that because you had a different opinion than me. I never meant to make you cry, only angry, I promise!"

Finally happy with the message he sends it off.

Only to remember the wonderful fact that your phone is fried due to the water.

Lucky him. He sighs, fed up with this bad luck streak he's been having.

Suddenly he remembers that he has money! More than you can even imagine!

He can buy a new, amazing phone to make things even. Yes, it's perfect. Surely you'll forgive him now!

He changes course and heads to the nearest electronic store, determined to make things right in his head. The purchase was swift and quick, the best phone he could find in the place.

Now, all he had to do was go to your apartment and give it to you!

Lucky him Tim leaked your address to everyone in the family as soon as he entered your apartment. So, with a high head he makes the slightly anxiety-inducing journey to you.

Knocking on the door of the apartment Dick stands straight as a board. The door opens and on the other side is a woman, she has severe eye bags and (H/C) hair. She seemed to have just gotten back from work. Her grey, lifeless eyes peer at him with suspicion before realizing who he was and smiling brightly.

"Mr Grayson! What a pleasure, is there anything you need?" She asks, Dick internally cringes, there was something about her voice that just grated against his ears.

There was just something so... Off... About her.

Still, he does what he usually does. He smiles and remains patient.

"Hello ma'am, is your daughter available? Something had happened and well.." Dick trails off, he doesn't want to get on Y/N's mother's bad side.

Her mother's eyes seem to cloud over at the mention of an incident, yet her smile remains in tact, if not strained. It's possible you told her already..

"Oh. An incident? What has she done, Mr Grayson?" Her mother asks, dark undertones coat her otherwise curious words. Dick furrows his brows slightly at the sudden change in the woman's mood. "Ah, well, it was my fault. I had played a nasty prank on her and her phone was ruined, I bought a new one to make it up to her!" He shows the brand new phone in it's box.

The woman doesn't look impressed, still, she smiles and hums. "Hm. Well that's lovely! Would you like to come inside? She isn't home currently but I'm sure she'll be home soon."

Something in Dick tells him not to go inside. Something was wrong. Yet, he reminds himself that he is a hero, if anything happens he will be prepared.

So, he heads inside, trailing behind the woman as he takes in the dungeon-like interior. "It's a... Lovely place, ma'am" Dick says, hoping to seem polite. The woman scoffs.

"M/N, my name is M/N. No need for such formalities!" The woman hurriedly states before flicking her hand dismissively "Y/N's room is the second door. You can wait there, or, if you want, you can hang around me!" She smiles sweetly, too sweetly, disgustingly sweetly. It reminds him of eating giant spoons of brown sugar.

He smiles politely, trying not to show his discomfort. "I'll just wait in her room for her..!" He hurries to Y/N's room, shutting the door once he's in. That woman gave him the creeps.

He looks around the small room, holy shit, no wonder you're always so pissy! He'd be pissy too if his room was just a bit bigger than a school storage closet!

The man knows he shouldn't snoop, he's done enough damage. But, maybe, if the guilt doesn't settle he can use information gathered here to help!

Dick makes his way to the chest and looks around, picking up an engineering bit, he isn't too into the whole mechanical side of things so there was no name he could pin it to.

Placing it back he moves to sit on the bed and wait. As he sits on the bed his eyes are drawn to a floorboard that seems to stand out from the rest. He kneels on the floor and digs his nails into the floorboard.

He starts to lift it up when..

RINGGGG

RINGGGG

RINGGGG

His phone goes off, he scrambles to answer the call, not checking who the caller was.

"Dick? Dick, okay, you're the only one that has answered!"

It was Duke, he sounds frantic. What happened..?

"Duke? What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No, no, something bad's happened! Steph, Cass and I were at a cafe and Y/N and her friends were there as well but some waitress had messed up the orders and Y/N had an allergic reaction - or something like that!" Duke rambles, his words slurring together in a rush.

Dick's eyes widen and he feels the air leave his lungs, forgetting about the floorboard and quickly leaving the room. He'll put the new phone on your bed for when you return.

He brushes past M/N and leaves the apartment. Holy shit your luck was bad, he couldn't help but think.

"Okay, stay calm, are you guys at Gotham City Private Hospital or Gotham City Public Hospital?"

"Private."

"I'll be there in half an hour, it'll be okay."

With that he hangs up and runs out of the apartment complex.

Like hell was he about to let anything bad happen to you before he could make things right!

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