#at least then i could put my fucking laundry away for once

[corvidexoskeleton]

Honestly i should probably just slowly start moving my stuff from my bedroom into the spare room ive been staying in for over a year now. Like i know damn well theyre not gonna fix the fucking wall, and i just have my desk and computer in the spare room. Not even a dresser or closet space or a shelf. Or any of my hobby supplies

[cathnospam]

Continuing from This Drabble about you and your BF Katsuki answering sex questions about each other<3

Black Female Reader x Katsuki Bakugo , mentions of panty stealer bakugo, slight smut???

“Okay uh, how do you rate your partners kisses 1-10.”

“9”

“9?! Muthafucka I taught you how to kiss—-“

“You always push back first like you can’t handle it, it pisses me off.”

“I like breathing.”

“So.”

Rolling your eyes, “I was ganna say 12/10, but since you’re being a bitch—“

“So, 12/10 got it. Next.”

“Does your partner have any dirty secrets?…oooh.—-”

“M’going to bed.” Bakugo immediately gets up to take off his tank top seeing as he was going to sleep in your dorm tonight, but as the shirt clung to his semi flexing biceps you grab him, “No, y/n.”

“Oh c’mon boy are the secrets THAT bad?! I’ll tell you mine at least—-fuck.” He considers for a moment. Curiosity weighing heavier than his will to sleep at the moment, “You ass.”

“What did you call me—“

“I think…” You place two fingers on his soft lips, “One secret is that……….one time, when you were out on work study you left your black tank top in my room….and….i missed you….and i was ovulating so i….put on your tank top and ….played…with myself.”

The air was thick, it’s as if Bakugo took it as he grew closer to you while speaking, there wasn’t much to make him speechless but dammit that’s a new one.

Fuck. That’s actually more sexier than he wants to admit right now. He crossed his legs, hoping a tent won’t form in his grey sweats and noticed your eyes wandering at every part of your room but his eyes.

“I…moaned your name too.”

“You…you damn….pervert fuck—-“ His voice almost broke into a groan, looking away also embarrassed you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way from how he looked back at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, “Stop acting fucking weird. You did it. Who cares. As long as it was MY name you moaned.”

“Of course dumbass. I only want you…”

Bakugo felt his ears burning, already annoyed he was flustered once he groaned, “I took your panties once.”

“What?”

“Why the hell would you wear that lacy frilly shit during class in that short ass skirt? It’s like you want those idiots to see you.”

“That CANNOT be the reason—“

“IT IS. If you’re ganna wear ‘em wear them IN OUR dorms you dumbass.”

“…well.”

“Well what.” He pouts.”

“Well where the fuck are they I like wearing them after I get waxed.”

Bakugo hesitates, not wanting to actually answer mainly because he doesn’t just have ONE pair of panties. But a few. “I’ll show you later.”

“Tch.” You mock his sounds, “Ever use ‘em to masturbate?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, you can only imagine what his perverted ass has done with them. And the last time you seen them was in your hamper so you assumed they got lost somewhere in the laundry. Honestly it’s kinda….interesting he’s telling you this.

“Does your partner have any no’s during?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch.”

“Aw.” You sarcastically sigh, “Why.”

“Why the hell would I call you out your name—“

“You called me your slut yesterday.”

“…Slip of the tongue.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize it was hot.” You say adjusting yourself closer to him, you could actually feel the heat from his body rise as you kept speaking, “It’s fine. Degrading isn’t something I’d need from you anyway.”

“I don’t get that kink, who the hell likes to be disrespected by someone they…are y’know with.”

You shrug, you understand why certain people have kinks, but it’s hard to put in words for someone like Katsuki. He’s a very simple man when it comes to relationships. Almost traditional and old fashion which is what charmed you the most about him. He never even called you a bitch before in any sense nor has he ever told you anything that would genuinely hurt your feelings, “Some people are just into that.” You concluded, your boyfriend looks at you with an unresolved look, but accepts it anyway. Weirdos.

“I wouldn’t hit you either. Like in the face or anything. Only on the ass”

“Good because my face is too pretty for that.” Katsuki smirks at you, you’re absolutely right you’re too pretty for him to hit.

“Nobody else.”

“Hm?”

“…Nobody else is allowed to join us.”

Squinting for a moment his statement clicks , “OH! No threesomes and stuff. Oh yeah of course not. If I see you with any other girl I’ll kill you and her.”

Katsuki swallowed his laughter, masking it with a clearing of his throat, your eyes not tearing from his making sure he knew you were serious. You don’t scare him typically, but he knew the moments when you genuinely had an aura about you that screamed “Fucking try to play with me.” And this was one of those moments. “You look at me like I didn’t just fucking say —“

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little trying to cover up the jealous tone you were about to spew out. Just the thought of Katsuki touching another girl had you upset.

Little did you know it was the same for him with you.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t do race or age play.”

“What the hell…?—-“

“Well I am black so obviously no and then you have age play which is just a cute way of saying you like children—-“

“WHAT?”

You pause to cover up his loud mouth with your small hands, “SSSHH! Before we get in trouble again!…anyway moving on!”

Not wanting to argue, he takes your laptop and smacks your hand away, “What is something you DONT like that your partner does during sex.”

“Take my laptop away from me.”

He strikes you and look, he doesn’t say anything verbally but he says “quit fucking around” with his eyes, admitting defeat that he won’t give you back your laptop you sit back and think for a moment.

“Eh…Oh! I don’t like that you won’t let me ride you.”

Damn it.

He had a feeling you’d say that too. Bakugo scratches the back of his neck roughly while letting out a groan. Throwing his head back a little he side eyes you, “Why do you wanna be on top so bad. I’m the man I should—“

“It’s not even about dominating you or anything you can still fuck me from below, ‘Suki. You’ll still have all the power.”

Bakugo has seen porn videos where the guy fucks up into the girl. Even some where the man is straight up holding the girl up and pumps her full. It’s so erotic he couldn’t even finish the video, but even though he enjoys vanilla sex, he is quite certain riding him isn’t too far off from what he likes.

Besides he loves having your tits bounce in his face and feeling your nipples practically bounce into his mouth makes up of great reason.

“…Fine. But when I’M ready.”

“Yaaaayy mkay….now what is something YOU don’t like about me.”

“You’re ganna be pissed.”

Your smiles immediately transforms into a straighten line, “Uh oh.”

“I don’t …like when you cum too fast.”

It was a bit embarrassing yet confusing to hear. Clearly that means he’s doing a good job so why —

“Because I want to keep fucking you.” Bakugo speaks up as if he read your inner thoughts, all you could do was blink a few times at him, and he continued more, “Even though I don’t cum until after you do which isn’t that long, sometimes I wanna keep going. I’ve timed it, the moment I start fucking you sex only last about 6-8 minutes.”

“That’s average. Some people are 2-3 minutes.” You spoke with an unimpressed and deadpanned voice mostly because this sounded ludicrous to you and Bakugo seen it in your expression causing him to sigh in annoyance. “Shouldn’t your ego be filled knowing you make me cum fast?”

“Yeah, but —-fuck sue me for wanting more. And don’t say some shit like I’m a nympho or some shit because that’s fucking disgusting and those freaks are usually only in a relationship to fuck—-“

“OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN, BOY!” His voice kept getting louder and louder and you refused to have another write up because you have him in your dorm past curfew…again. “I get it though.”

“You want to be overstimulated.”

What? Bakugo scrunched yo his eyebrows. He never heard that term before used when talking about sex.

“Overstimulated means …well… showing you is actually better than telling you.”

In an instant Bakugo’s furrowed eyebrows soften, his gaze transitioned from confused to darker and subtly lustful. You felt the vibe of the room change so quickly you practically had to clear your throat to make him focus again.

“So the next question…”

“Nah, show me.” He firmly shuts your computer and places it on your nightstand. Arms still crossed, “Show me what that word means or should I look up a video and figure it out myself.”

“….y’can.”

It wasn’t ideal for your evening to end like this with him, but it’s just you and your slightly horny boyfriend watching porn videos.

What’s the worse that can happen?

[wtfsteveharrington]

love love love your writing, could you do something with luca? maybe reader gets hurt in the kitchen and he has to help her

a/n: thank you so much :’) i went a different kitchen than you meant probably but i hope u like <33

warning!! contains non-graphic mentions of accidental cuts, blood, and a physical injury.

The apartment is peaceful. Candles lit, soft music playing from a playlist you both curate, and it was pretty enough outside to leave the windows cracked open for a breeze.

You’re turning around with a stack of t-shirt’s in your arms, only half paying attention when you feel yourself bump into something that promptly shatters to the ground and disrupts the peaceful environment.

“Shit!” You both echo at the same time from being startled.

Luca’s wrapping a towel around his hand, leaving everything in the kitchen behind as he hunts you down. “Darling? What happened? Are you alright?” He took just enough time to realize that the knife had gotten him when he jumped, acknowledged he was alright, and quickly went to check on you. You’d always come on the top of his priority list.

You’re standing in a pile of glass, a deep set frown on your lips as you look around at mess made by a broken vase. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I was trying to put away our laundry and forgot I moved the vase to the edge of the dresser earlier when we were cleaning. Just caught the corner and it fell.”

Looking up at him with a little pout, “I’m sor-“

You’ve honed in on his towel wrapped hand, the hint of blood soaking through the thin material.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely fucked my hand.” He gives you some sort of ‘What can you do’ look while shrugging his shoulders. Luca has had his fair share of kitchen incidents and was much more accustom to injuries. It was deep enough to need stitches, just needed to be rinsed and bandaged.

You, however? Very much not used to seeing your boyfriend like this.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to grab his wrist, taking a peek under the towel and wincing. “Luca!” He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re dragging him back into the kitchen to get him taken care of.

You’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink, trying to fight the urge to panic at the sight of him injured due to a mistake you made. He can see the way your face is all twisted up with concern and he hates it.

“M’alright… Done much worse to myself before. Won’t even leave a scar.” A scar? You frown more as you make sure the cut is clean and step back to go fish out the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“Stay put, please.”

Luca, a man, stands there as he’s told but does admire the sway of your ass as you barrel away. He then gets to admire the swell of your cleavage under your top and - “Shit!” He hissed out as you’re grabbing his hand again to apply a bit of ointment.

“Shoulda paid less attention to my boobs and you would have seen this coming.” You tease while trying so hard to keep the mood as light as you can muster. There was still a course of guilt running through your veins as you continue patching him up.

“I truly am fine, you know? Comes with the job territory. Won’t be the last time I get cut.” He leans in to press a tender kiss to your head and you gravitate towards the touch. You know it’s not a life or death situation but between being embarrassed over both breaking the vase and indirectly injuring Luca you were a little solemn to say the least.

“I know, just hate I caused this.” The bandaid is smoothed over his skin and you give it another once over before bringing it to your lips, kissing over the bandaid. Luca allows you to continue fretting over the injury for a moment until he’s moving his hand to cup your jaw and make look up at him.

“It was an accident, no?” You both nod. “Exactly… I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine. Don’t want you beating yourself up over this.”

You take a deep breath and allow his words to sink in for a moment before nodding once again. Eyes flickering up to his before you lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. “M’sorry you got hurt…” Another kiss. “Was kinda hot how well you handled it though.”

Luca laughs against your mouth, a wide grin on his features as he feels your anxiety finally start to settle. He steals one more kiss before stepping back to acknowledge the state of the kitchen, giving your waist a squeeze before he goes.

He glances over the cutting board that was the culprit of injury and the food that started to burn while he was tended to. Shrugging his shoulders, turning to smirk at you with pure love and devotion in his eyes.

“Fuck it, let’s go have a date night out instead.”

A hand claps against the flesh of your ass as he passes you to go get changed.

[archangeldyke-all]

can you write something about sevika getting chubbier by skipping the gym because she's focusing on you and other priorities in her life. and finding out she's pleasantly surprised by the extra weight

YES I FUCKING CAN!!!!!!!

men and minors dni

since you've moved in together six months ago, sevika's put on some weight.

she's a tall woman, and she's ripped with muscle, so it's hard to tell at first. but... over time you begin to notice a bit of a change.

her hips are a little plusher beneath your grip, her ribs aren't visible anymore, her sharp jawline gets a little softer.

it makes you so fucking happy.

when you first met her, the woman barely ate. besides whiskey and bar nuts, her appetite mostly consisted of eating whatever scraps jinx leaves behind on her plate after lunch.

you made it a habit to shove snacks in her hands at any chance you got. trail mix, granola bars, sliced fruit: just whatever you had near you that you could give her. she always digs in without hesitation, never tries to deny the food, so you start shoving snacks in her pockets when you do her laundry, and her beg when she's not looking.

as you guys grew closer, sevika started blowing off her nightly visits to the gym to visit with you instead. you asked her once over dinner if she missed her hobby, and she'd just shrugged, smiling at you. "i'll still get a pretty good workout in with you once we get home, babe." she teased. you snorted and elbowed her, shoveling another bite of cake in her mouth, and she smirked as she spoke around a glob of chocolate frosting. "gym's not as fun as you, anyways."

she's still just as strong as she was before; if anything, the extra fat on her body just gives her more fuel to last longer during her fights-- more padding to block and diffuse her opponent's blows.

as much as you love the visual confirmation that you're feeding your girl properly, and she's treating herself a little softer these days; most of the time you don't even notice the weight gain. it's still sevika: the love of your fucking life. she's never brought it up to you, and you've never brought it up to her.

but now, she's standing in front of the mirror, pouting down at her pants.

you blink up from you book and watch her for a second, her hand groping the little pouch of fat she's put on her lower stomach. her lips twitch up at the side just a bit, just for a second, but it still makes your heart flop over to see.

"sev?" you ask.

she turns around to look at you. "my pants don't button anymore." she pouts. you chuckle, making grabby hands for your girlfriend from your shared bed. sevika launches herself in your arms without hesitation. she huffs against your tits, nuzzling your chest.

"i'll alter 'em for you. i know how attached you are to those dusty things."

sevika chuckles, pinches your side before she glares at you. "you like these dusty things too-- they show off my ass."

"mmhmm, real well." you say, nodding and smacking her ass on top of you. sevika giggles and collapses against you again.

she's quiet, drawing a pattern on your skin with her finger. you know she's got something on her mind, you just wait patiently for her to find the words.

"y'know i've gained, like, forty five pounds since we met?" she asks.

you raise an eyebrow at her.

"yeah?" you ask, trying to read her mood. sevika smiles.

"yeah." she says. "i've always been skinny-- at least, since i started puberty. i was a chunky kid, though." she chuckles. you grin at the image of a chubby baby sevika toddling around.

"are you... upset?" you ask quietly.

sevika chuckles. "fuck no." she says. "it's... nice?" she asks. you grin down at her.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i dunno. it's just... i don't feel like i have to train everyday anymore. i don't feel like a fuckin' failure if i skip a day at the gym. i don't get migraines or hangovers as bad anymore, and..." she trails off, looking away from you. you nudge her, recognizing the flustered look on her face and dying to know what's got her blushing. "i dunno." she whispers, chancing a glance up at you. "when i look down and see my stomach's soft... it just makes me think of all the nice meals i got to eat with you to get this way." she says with a sweet smile.

you choke a bit on your breath, then flip the pair of you over, groaning as you bury your face against sevika's giggling throat. "sev!" you whine.

"what?" she asks, laughing.

"you can't just say sweet shit like that baby, you'll make me cry." you whimper against her.

sevika kisses you head and smacks your ass, her free hand drawing patterns into your back. "you can cry babe. i'll hold you."

this does nothing to stop your tears. you groan and pinch sevika's soft side, relishing in the squeal it pulls from her, and the way her rock-hard abs are covered in a nice layer now-- all 'cause of you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[kittykattropicanna]

it's 2 am and i should sleep but i just read your prison penpal!ghost now it's rotting my brain!!!! ><

reader would so try to send him gifts if they're allowed. special holidays aren't miserable for him anymore as he would be accompanied by reader's sweet little presents!!!

Sleeps for the weak baby, sleep when you’re dead ;)

Of course you're going to look after your man, he does so much for you, the least you can do is send him some money to treat himself!!! maybe a gift or two you dirty girl :3

I know I promised to upload this last night after work but I was sleepy. IM SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME

TW: edging, Si fucks himself with your dirty panties, smut, masterbation (Reader and Simon) its just fucking disgusting and dirty, but also kinda sweet <3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Absolutely, holy shit. After your first phone call, you’re his, he makes that so unbelievably clear through his next letters. :)))

Telling you how much he craves you, how you’re the only thing on his mind, describing in intimate detail how his gonna touch you, kiss you, fuck you :((((

His so fucking desperate for you, to the point he actually gets enraged knowing he can’t touch you. Just the thought of you being on the other side of the wall makes his skin crawl, you’re right there, only thick cement dividing him from you :(( 

Its even worse knowing that he can’t do anything about it >:(

Si’s a problem solver, he prides himself on being able to weasel his way out of practically any situation without a problem, if that’s  reducing his sentence down to basically nothing or getting away with his little late night phone calls with you. He always finds a way to make it work, but for the first time ever, he can’t fix this, his stuck here. No exceptions, no sweet talking to get what he wants, no amount of calculated manipulation could get him out of this situation, and it makes him go absolutely mad. 

At this point he has a year left of his sentence, his so fucking close to being let back into society, so close to finally being with you :(((

Letting his emotions (and dick) cloud his judgment, driving him to think about making stupid decisions such as an attempted jail break would be absolutely the worst idea of his entire life.

Ohhhhh, but its so tempting :(

But it would just put more time between you and him, as much as he wanted you now, he knew it was only going to rip him away from you again in the long run :/

And that’s if his even successful, one night with you would mean the world to him, but it wasn't worth being thrown back in jail, only separating the two of you for longer :(

He just needed to sit tight, let the days roll on and try not to think about your soft moans through the shitty speaker of the prison phone. :(((

He absolutely asked you to be official after speaking to you for the first time. It drives him crazy knowing when guys try and hit on you at the bar, you smile brightly and tell them that you're his, his to keep. 

One of the guards asked him what’s the first thing his going to do when he gets out, with a dopey smile he chuckles a little

“See ma’ missus mate” his so fucking cute, his actually so obsessed with you, so proud that you’re his ;))))

Of course the other inmates wouldn’t know, and technically he most definitely shouldn’t of told a guard, news spreads, but he couldn’t help it, it slipped out, and you know what, he was fucking proud of it :)))

You 100% would send him money and gifts, Si makes a little money, about £35 a week either cleaning, laundry duties, basic maintenance, basically anything the job program can offer him. 

The only issue being when he first signed up, he made sure that all his money was payed into Price’s bank account. He didn’t want to risk using it, the whole reason he started the work program was because he wanted to try and set himself up once he got out, at least have some type of savings waiting for him on the other side. Every now and then he regrets it, but he knows its for the best :/

Learning that Si was so strict with his money that he didn’t treat himself to anything didn’t sit well with you….and its not like you’re struggling financially, you work a good job and your daddy is always willing to send money if you ever needed it!!!!

A hundred odd pounds a month isn’t going to leave any sort of dint in your bank account, so of course your going to send Si some money to treat himself!!! You’re such a sweet, sweet girl :(((, his sweet, sweet girl. 

You start sending the maximum amount each month which comes out to about £150, its the least you can do!! His your boyfriend! he might be a felon, a little perverted and rough around the edges, but to you, his perfect :)))

His so grateful as well :(( treating himself to snacks :((( chocolate bars, skittles and gummy’s, buying himself a book or two, replacing his flat, stained pillow and ratted blankets, getting himself some actually nice soap and a new toothbrush, buying clothes that actually fit him!! 

His muscles have grown so much since being locked up :3 there’s nothing else to do besides lift weights, work and sit around :((((

“Sweetheart, I want ya’ to know, the second I get out of here, imma treat you real nice, give ya’ everything I can, look after ya’, protect ya’”

and

“The minute I get ya’ home, its all about you, yeah? Imma lay ya’ down and eat ya’ like a starved man, overstimulate that little cunt till ya’ beggin’ me to stop, fuck ya’ so deep and hard that you’ll forget ya’ fuckin’ name, whatever ya’ want darlin’ its all yours, been lookin’ after me so well….. imma show ya’ how much I appreciate it, as ya’ can probably tell, i’m more a man of action, poetry an’t ma style baby ;)”

Definitely learns origami from other inmates, makes little paper swans and hearts for you, the paper always being a little stained from his dirty fingers, obvious crease marks showing his folded it the wrong way and had to reattempt :))))

God he knows how to treat a women :33333

But what I really want to get into are the gifts you send him…..;)

As I established in my last fics about you sending things to Si, you absolutely send him innocent gifts. 

Photos, one of your favourite gold necklaces, an oversized tee that smells like your perfume…. Cute little personal things so he can have a piece of you, nothing crazy :3

I feel like you were reading a spicy romance book. It mentioned the main character stealing his lovers used panties out of her dirty laundry basket, very quickly and idea clicked in your brain :((((

You wanted it to be a surprise for him :(((( you didn’t mention it to him in your letters, only telling him your working on a little something that’s crafted just for him ;))

Waking up in the morning you make sure to fuck yourself with your fingers :(( 

Covering your panties with your juices, making sure their absolutely soaked in your cum :((

Rubbing your thighs together while you’re at work, soaking through your panties with your arousal :((( thinking about Si eating your pussy just like he promised while in important meetings, loosing focus…. your boss pulling you aside and asking if you’re okay :(( 

Scrambling to find an answer to explain your distracted behaviour and flushed cheeks >:(

He ends up sending you home because you’re distracting everyone with your aloofness :(( putting the rest of your team behind because you're a selfish girl with a dirty mind >:( can’t even focus in your workplace because Si’s dirty words have taken over every aspect of your thoughts >:(

At the end of the day your panties are ruined with your slick, soaked  all the way through and smelling of your orgasm just like you planned ;))

And when Si received your thong obviously used??? :000000 he let out a low grunt....

Just the idea that you did this for him, fully confirming in his mind that you wanted him, craved him just as much as he craved you made something animalistic set off in his mind….

Because he received your package in the middle of the day, he couldn’t hide and tend to himself like normal >:((((((

He needed you now, he needed to fuck his cock NOW, not wait till his cell mates were asleep, his heavy balls ached and he knew if he didn’t relieve himself soon, his blue balls would become unbearable >:(((( aching and hurting with each step, uncomfortable and frustrated :(

Purposely being a dick and coursing havoc with his inmates so he can be locked up for his disruptive and disrespectful behaviour ;)))))

A shit eating grin when his in handcuffs being walked to his cell, knowing your panties are tucked into his boxers ;))))) his won yet again ;)

Like I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again, he ALWAYS gets what he wants :)))

The second his cell locks his ripping his hard, leaky cock out and wrapping your used panties around himself :((((

Pumping his fat dick, the friction of the fabric making it that much more satisfying :((((

Closing his eyes and imagining you walking around all day, turned on and flustered for him >:((((( the idea of you restricting yourself from fucking other men because you're his, knowing all you want is to be filled with dick, have the feeling of a real cock fucking you, not your cold, rubber dildo >:(

His precum mixing with your juices only turns him on more, knowing that this is the closest he’ll get to fucking your cunt for now :(( 

As his big hands slowly pump his dick, wanting to savour the moment, he lets out animalistic grunts, slowly speeding up and then slowing his pace, he edges himself almost whimpering when he refrains from his release yet again :(((

Something about holding back satisfies him, his training himself for you, getting ready for when he fucks you for the first time, wanting to hold out long enough that he can rip orgasm after orgasm out of you, forming a white rim of your cum around the base of his cock :(((

Grunted whispers of your name falling from his lips as he tries to hold back yet again, legs twitching and face getting hot as uncontrollable ropes of cum finally release from his vainy cock :(((

His never cum that much in his life, your panties damp with his semen, dick so sensitive that even the feeling of the fabric from his boxes makes him flinch >:(((

You’re such a good girl, always knowing how to please him, feels like you know him inside and out already ;)

You just wait until he gets his hands on you sweet girl ;))) 

Y'all are so fucking obsessed with each other I CAN'T

PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

[binsito]

Kitty, what're your thots on pervy stepbro!skz? Cause just thinking about it has me going woozi (hehe)

AHHHHHHHHH (those are my thots)

cw: stepcest!!!!!!! dni if uncomfortable, i warned you. proceed with caution,

slight voyeurism/exhibitionism (or mentions of it), mentions of drinking, masturbation, dirty fantasies involving the reader, sex and oral sex (or suggestive scenarios involving it), slightttt noncon situations due to pervertedness, mentions of assplay, cum, all characters are adults who's parents got married later on in their lives (thought i'd clarify just in case). i think i hit the major ones, pls lmk if i missed anything super important

okay bye

bangchan: he is soo sweet. he's incredibly helpful around the house, always offering to clean the dishes after dinner. your mom absolutely loves him. he's perfect, minus his one dirty little habit of asking you to help with the chores. it's not like he needs the help, he just gets a little excited when he sees you bend down to pick something up or go through the laundry because he gets a peek of your pretty thong.

'two of us get things done quicker' he usually says, and of course you don't mind helping him, he's fun to talk to and you also have to carry some of your own weight if you're going to keep living with your mom while attending college.

'i'll treat you for helpin' out' but what he really wants to say is he'll fuck you up against the laundry room's door. couldn't you get the hint? his cock was always rock hard around you, it was painfully obvious. couldn't you hear him through the walls fisting himself while you were both home alone? he didn't care to be quiet at all and he knew you were just choosing to be oblivious.

he was so good! why couldn't you just reward him? he mows the lawn, cooks if he has to, throws out the trash. the least you could do was give your sweet stepbrother your mouth to use around his cock after a long day of hardwork around the house!

and he hates the way you're licking the ice cream he got you for helping. hates the way you look at him and giggle because he knows you know what you're doing to him.

minho: he was bored out of his mind at the wedding reception for your parents. at least his dad was happy for once.

he glanced over and watched you order a drink from the bar, sipping it as you looked towards him. he quickly looked away and chuckled to himself, hoping you didn't notice how his eyes trailed down as he checked you out in your pretty dress. would it be disrespectful to put moves on his new stepsister?

he could ask you to dance, right?

he made his way over to you and leaned against the bar, smiling towards you.

"could i have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

you giggled at him and waved him off, explaining to him that you were to shy to dance.

"well then let's go somewhere private where no one can see us?"

the implications of his words made you flustered. this was your step brother now. did he mean his words in that sense or were you reading into it too much?

(he definitely meant his words suggestively.)

his eyes basically undressing you as you swallowed thickly. he could take you to the family restroom and no one would even know the two of you were missing.

he could easily slip past the huge blend of both families and fuck you outside behind all the cars.

he could make you hold his cum the whole night until your parents went their separate way to their honeymoon together. you could have the whole house to yourselves, fuck on every surface imaginable and no one would ever have a clue.

changbin: he's normally shy, very respectful. very gym oriented - going as far as setting up all his equipment in the garage with your dad's permission. you were interested in his work out routine, asking him if you could join him one day.

he didn't know why that made him so flustered, sputtering while he talked to you and letting you know it was perfectly fine that you used his stuff and joined him. you were surprised how disciplined he was, how heavy he could lift. he was trying hard to keep his composure, trying hard to push down the thoughts he was having of you spotting him.

the idea of you basically straddling his head while he benched was making him see stars. or what if he had you bench press? what if he was the one straddling your head, having you look up at him and see how his cock protruded from his gym shorts, the obvious outline giving away how hard he was.

what if he had you do russian deadlifts, coming up behind you to help with your form, cock brushing up against your ass while he tried explaining how to position yourself properly.

all changbin wanted to do was hold you open over him while he laid on the bench, licking at your cunt eagerly. all he wanted was to take you from behind while you tried to finish doing cable tricep pushdowns.

keyword on tried because he wanted to make sure he'd leave you dumb enough to even forget what number set you were even on.

hyunjin: hyunjin started to catch feelings well after your parents got married, you two just clicked, friendship quickly burning into something so much more.

but he knew you probably wouldn't feel the same, would probably be grossed out by him if he told you he loved you. he didn't want to ruin the family dynamic so he kept his feelings harbored deep within himself.

but his heart absolutely shattered when you brought another boy home, begging him to not tell your mom because you weren't sure if she'd approve of him.

all his hope of maybe one day confessing to you was thrown out the window. did he read you wrong? he could've sworn that maybe there was something there..

and he couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning as he heard you through the walls, giggling with that other guy and hushing him. warning him that although your parents weren't home - hyunjin was.

but the hushes and scolding did nothing because hyunjin could still hear everything clearly. how you kissed him sloppily, how the bed shifted when he climbed on top of you, how you gasped out when he pressed his cock inside of you.

hyunjin closed his eyes tightly and to save himself from his misery, he pretended it was him between your legs, his hand reaching down to touch himself as he listened in on the both of you. he pretended it was his name that you were chanting. he took note of the pitches of your moans, how they got higher when you were about to cum, how breathy and incoherent you became.

he would do anything to see how your face twisted with pleasure.

at least he could pretend to be the one to bring you to your peak whenever he heard you through the walls.

jisung: living with jisung was definitely something to get used to. unfortunately with the sudden growth of your new family, there was not enough space for both of you to get your own room. you'd be sharing a space until your parents found an adequate place.

jisung didn't mind but you clearly did. having to share the en suite bathroom in the mornings was a challenge.

why did he have to take so long in the damn bathroom?

"jisung! c'mon i'm gonna be late, can't you please hurry up!?"

he always managed to beat you to the bathroon, always waking up early to start his day.

what you didn't know is he was taking care of his aching cock in the shower, fisting himself to the image of you sleeping soundly. he had gotten bold lately, picking the sheets carefully off your body to get a peek at your body, tugging your sleeping shorts to the side to reveal your panties, moving them aside to finally be met with your cunt.

how was it so wet?

could he give it a lick?

he didn't want to be caught.

rubbing himself through his shorts until he couldn't take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to chase his release.

felix: he knew he shouldn't but he just couldn't help it.

watching you from his bedroom window inconspicuously as you tanned by the pool in your backyard. you looked so pretty, so unaware that he was jerking himself to the sight of you in a skimpy bathing suit. that dumb bikini top leaving little to the imagination, it wasn't your fault you didn't want annoying tan lines. he watched intently as you turned face down in the lounge chair, reaching behind you to untie the straps of your bikini top so they wouldn't leave a pesky mark. you were basically naked, your tits were basically on display for him, couldn't you just sit up and show him? flash him really quickly so he could finish in his hand?

it was torture - having to watch you from afar when he wanted to be down there with you. would you quickly cover up if he were to go join you? or would you barely acknowledge him and continue to enjoy the sun? would you ask him to reapply sunscreen on you? would you let his hands wander, trailing down to your ass to massage them? would you protest if he pulled your thong down or would you let him play with your ass a little?

he wanted you bad.

spurting cum all over himself and making a mess as he let out a loud groan, it must've been loud enough for you to hear and look up from your spot, making eye contact with him through his blinds.

goddammit.

seungmin: your mom wouldn't let you go out to that dumb frat party unless seungmin tagged along and drove you there.

you agreed because you didn't want to lose the opportunity to go talk to that football player you had the hots for.

seungmin thought it was funny, watching you fix your makeup one last time in his car's mirror. there was nothing to fix, you looked perfect in his humble opinion.

he knew you wanted to go to this party because of that guy, he wasn't fond of him at all. you were too good for him and in all honesty, seungmin wanted you for himself.

he wanted you to be his but it was complicated given the fact that your mom was married to his dad.

his advances didn't go unnoticed when he laid his hand on your inner thigh as he drove. impulse thoughts racing through his mind - what if he just turned around right now and took you in his backseat? he wanted to make you forget about that stupid jock.

"minnie?" snapping him out of his thoughts at a red light.

"you're quiet." you choose to say instead of bringing attention to the obvious hand on your thigh

"sorry, just thinking about the one hundred ways i could fuck you and how it would be so much better than that guy you're pining after." he speaks up, driving towards a turn lane to make a u-turn.

jeongin: he always thought you were pretty.

he had seen you around campus but was always too shy to approach you. how would he even start a conversation with you. when his mom told him she had found someone new, he was excited for her but the last thing he ever expected was for the 'someone' to be your father.

you, the girl he so helplessly daydreamed of was soon to be part of his family.

he didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse.

could he push down all the thoughts he's had of you or would he fail miserably. how was he ever supposed to tell you he liked you now?

when your families decided to spend the holidays together, he knew he was going to struggle. cock hard in his slacks as he watched you reapply some lip gloss that had gotten wiped as you drank wine and talked to people.

he felt hopeless.

he decided that socializing would be too much for him in this state of mind so he snuck upstairs, finding his way into your room.

there was a picture of you on your vanity, a pretty bow adorning your hair as you smiled widely. jeongin wanted to make you smile like that, wanted to tell you how gorgeous he thought you were but soon his thoughts became dirty, imagining how he wanted you to smear your lip gloss all over his shaft, peppering his cock with delicate kisses.

he shoved a hand into his pants and pulled his cock out, stroking it gently as he grabbed the photo with his free hand.

fuck, you were perfect to him.. the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

his brain became foggy, only thinking about you and you only as he pumped himself-

"jeongin?" you stood at your door, he nearly jumps out of skin, pathetically cumming all over your photo, face burning hot as he looks over at you.

oh fuck, how was he ever going to live this down? how would he even explain this predicament?

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[brossession-collection]

Dad's Pits (Male Possession)

"Charlie! Get your fucking ass down here!"

Charlie's eyes shot open as he heard the muffled yells of his dad's piercing through his bedroom door. He flinched, pulling his hands out of his musky briefs and hitting his head on the bedframe.

"Fuck that hurt."

Charlie is a 23 year old washed out jock who just barely graduated from college. Exhausted from the years of studying and the lack of any job leads, he came back home tired and defeated. It didn't help that he was a kinky fucker, masturbating his days away to the smell of his ripe sweaty pits.

In fact, Charlie's main reason for playing club lacrosse in college was so that he could rummage through the open lockers and dirty laundry hampers, claiming any soiled jerseys to take a dirty sniff. He got caught once, with the strength coach's yellowed jockstrap over his face.

Dude got put on probation and his single dad found out immediately.

Charlie's dad, Jeff, although stern and strict, is a pretty loving dad through and through. He's a construction manager at one of the biggest firms in the city, leading huge projects and coming home day after day fatigued, pissy, and, most importantly, musky.

And today wasn't any different.

"You hear me!? You better not be whacking your d*ck!"

Charlie groaned as he got up, not bothering to slip anything on. He opened the door and yelled back, slightly embarrassed.

"I'm not dad! What do you need!?"

"How about you get your ass down here like I said and get some dinner on the table. Least you can do to help out around here"

Charlie tucked his boner into his briefs, put on some shorts and a loose tank top jersey, and trotted down the stairs regrettably. He made eye contact with Jeff, who was taking off his plaid button down, leaving behind a tight white tank top and belted wrangler jeans.

"There you are" Jeff said more softly than just a second ago. "Listen Charlie I don't wanna be yelling at ya. You're a grown ass adult and you're still living here. Could be proactive and help out around here more."

Charlie rubbed his eyes, yawned, then nodded, his bushy pits wafting out a dry musk that made his dad wince.

"Jesus christ boy. Go take a fucking shower. Don't know how you can handle yourself smelling like that. I can barely deal with my own stink right after work."

Charlie muttered a "well I can" under his breath as he rummaged through the fridge. He glanced at his dad who seemed to not notice.

"Speaking of, I'm gonna take a shower. Gotta get this fucking stench off me. Have dinner on the table when I get back alright?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. Will do daddio."

Charlie looked back as his dad jogged up the stairs, his tatted built arms swinging side to side with every step. While Charlie had more of an athletic lanky build, Jeff was a bit more bulky, carrying a muscular dad bod. They were the same height, and had similar characteristics, but his dad looked more mature with his bushy beard and uncontrollable chest hair. Charlie was jealous of those features. "I could be waaay more musky if I had dad's hairiness" he constantly thought.

Charlie felt an air of dizziness as he dropped some produce on the kitchen counter. He tried to steady himself, but for some reason couldn't keep his heavy eyelids open. "Shit... Must be the blue balls..." he slurred as he drunkenly stumbled to the dinner table. He slumped onto a chair and zonked out.

...

When Charlie came to, he felt strange. More airy, like he was floating. He felt cold, but for some reason couldn't feel his skin when he tried to grab it. He yelled when he looked down.

"The fuck is happening?"

"Why's my skin all green?"

Charlie poked and prodded at his translucent abs, which responded with a gooey jello-ey jiggle. "No fucking way man what the hell is this shit!?" he yelled.

Suddenly musky green gas started to emit from his armpits and ass, as if he was a walking stink cloud. Charlie curiously raised one of his arms up to take a sniff, only to smell one of the most rancid, ripe, and gloriously delicious stenches he's ever inhaled.

"Wheeeeewwww. Fuck... I smell so fucking BAD! I mean... GOOD". Charlie couldn't stop whiffing his own pits, hypnotized by the incredible musk that his ghostly form was now exuding.

Charlie looked around. He could see musky stink lines coming from objects all over the house, as if he had stink-o-vision. He strutted over to his dad's hung-up button down, which was apparently excessively musky.

"Damn... smells so goooood" he moaned as he brought his nose and hand up to the fabric. Suddenly, his fingers, then hand, then forearms got sucked into the fabric. With every finger twitch he tried to do, he watched as the shirt jostled around, as if he had partial control over it.

Charlie was chuckling, experimenting with his new powers for atleast 2 minutes straight before he heard a familiar voice call from up stairs.

"I'll be out in 15!" his dad yelled. Charlie heard the shower turn as his dad stomped around on the floor above, waiting for the water to heat up.

Charlie, looking down at his green ghostly body, grinned and thought of something mischievous to try. He got up and started tip-toeing up the stairs, the green stench still floating off his body.

He opened his dad's bedroom door and saw him turned around, taking off his socks. Jeff only cocked his head back, not yet noticing the new form his son had taken.

"You need something bud?" he said, before turning his head further and seeing the green apparition that his Charlie had become.

"Wh-what the hell? Y-you okay son?" Jeff's mouth was agape, unsure of how to react. He felt his nose crinkle as a more intense version of Charlie's ripe musk wafted into his nostrils unwelcomed.

"Don't know what happened daddio. Dozed off and woke up like this."

"Ch-Charlie! The fuck happened!? Go take a fucking shower son this ain't normal!"

Charlie flinched at that idea. "Why dad? I smell fucking great. And you do too..." He noticed the green stink lines emanating from his dad's pits, feet and below his waistband.

"The fuck are you talking about Charlie?" Jeff said, taking a step back as his jock son inched forward.

"Mind if I try something dad?" In a split second, Charlie pounced at Jeff, completely covering him in his green gas and slimey body.

Jeff struggled to breathe as he felt his nose and mouth getting caked in his son's ripe musk, forcibly pushing itself down his throat and up his nostrils. He lifted his arms up beyond his control as Charlie's gaseous slimey form started to ooze into his armpits.

Charlie could only laugh as he felt his ghostly body enter and take control of his dad through every single entrance he could find. Jeff didn't even notice his son slipping down his pants and pumping into his c*ck and sweaty asshole.

"CH-CHAR-guhhh" Jeff managed to moan out as the ectoplasmic form of his son's head gurgled down into his throat. At this point, Jeff could only see green in his vision.

"Gonna have so much fun stinking up your body dad!" Charlie yelled from inside Jeff's head.

The father and son, now sharing a body, stumbled to the ground, wet and slimey. Jeff let out a moan as he felt the last of the goo sink into his dirty asshole with a "POP". The man slumped over for a second before...

...

Jeff opened his eyes and cracked his neck with a smirk. He lifted up his arm and took a deep whiff of his day-old pit scent, unnatural green gas wafting out and musking the entire room.

"Mmmmmm smells even better with his nose" he cooed. He scratches at his pits then took a curious sniff before letting out an uncharacteristic moan of pleasure. "Fuck yeah that's the stuff."

Jeff got up and stuck a hand into his wranglers, rummaging around his fabric-covered balls and taint before rubbing the same hand all over his beard.

"Shiiit daaaad. You smell better than me!" Charlie chuckled with his dad's voice.

He walked up to the shower in his dad's en suite bathroom, reaching inside and turning off the water.

Once again, Charlie lifted up his dad's beefy arms and spoke:

Fin

[fyodior]

.˳⁺⁎˚ LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND CONFESS YOUR LUST

✧ pairing: brother!bachira x little sister!reader

✧ warnings: dark content, (i)ncest, minors DNI. exhibitionism, risky places, dubcon, vaginal sex, creampie. characters aged up, both reader and bachira are in their 20's

✧ notes: my entry for the lovely @killsaki's family ties collab!! also my first time writing for blue lock!! much more to come hehe likes and rbs very much appreciated :)

✧ word count: 1.7k

dark content disclaimer: this is entirely fiction with absolutely no reflection of reality! i do not condone this nor any other dc i write, pls just block or unfollow if you don't like it, and do NOT report or leave hate comments please!

“Meguru, this is not a good id-” your hushed words were cut off as Bachira pressed his hungry lips against yours, forcing your back against the unfamiliar mattress.

As much as you tried to protest, you couldn’t help but melt into your brother’s touch, shoulders relaxing as you threw your arms around his neck and finally reciprocated his kiss. Bachira wastes no time, using his knee to spread your legs open, and rub his toned thigh against your core. You got lost in the pleasure briefly, letting out the tiniest of moans before you heard a thump downstairs, gasping as you pushed Bachira away from you.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered again, leaning your head against your brother’s chest, still searching for his comfort even in moments like this where you wanted to wring his neck.

Bachira refused to quit, pushing you back against the pillows so he could mouth at your neck, freeing one of his hands to massage you over your panties.

“You act like you hate it, but you still get so wet from me,” Bachira taunted, the signature singsong nature of his voice matching the stupid grin on his face.

All you could do is groan – he was right. It didn’t matter that he had manhandled you all the way up the stairs of your house to throw you into your parent’s bed in hopes of humiliating you, your panties were still soaked from the thought of your brother’s hands on you.

This was all because you had asked him to chill out, at least a little bit. Bachira had always had a thing for exhibitionism and risky places, absolutely loved the high he got from almost getting caught balls deep into his little sister. But he had started to get a little too risky.

Your and Bachira’s relationship had started out pretty innocently – at least as innocent as sexually pursuing your brother could be, anyway. It all began a few months ago when you had let yourself into Meguru’s room to give him his laundry, only to find him shooting white spurts into his fist as he moaned your name. Your name. He invited you in, amber eyes full of mirth, to come help him clean up the mess with your mouth.

First, it was just blowjobs and fingering in the darkness of your bedrooms with the door locked. You were a virgin, so it was okay for your big brother to be three fingers deep into your cunt as he mouthed at your clit, he was just showing you how your future lovers ought to treat you!

But you never thought you’d go further than that, never thought you’d have real sex. Until you did. Shitfaced after a party thrown for a big win for Bachira’s soccer team, he quietly led you to an empty bedroom and laid you down, jumping at the opportunity to slide right into your unresisting pussy. And even though you were drunk and more easily influenced than normal, you didn’t put up a fight – you even found yourself moaning for more, more, more.

Once that line was crossed there was no going back. You fucked whenever Bachira pleased, and wherever Bachira pleased. On a bench in the locker room, in between stacks of books at your university library, behind trees in public parks. But his favorite places were anywhere in your house, specifically when your parents were home. Bachira liked bending you over the kitchen counter in the middle of the night as your parents slept soundly upstairs, shoving his cock down your throat while the two of you were “washing up” for dinner, and fingering you under the blankets as you all watched TV together in the living room. There was no surface in that house the two of you hadn’t fucked on.

The thrill of not just anyone, but your parents finding out the two of you were fucking excited Bachira so much he could almost cum untouched. He was getting too reckless, though. There were only so many excuses as to why grown siblings constantly slept in each other’s beds and shared blankets, and it didn’t help that he was always hanging all over you. Brothers don’t spoon their sisters from the back and kiss their necks as they cook breakfast.

So you gently approached Bachira, and put it in the most gentle words possible to ask him if he could tone it down just a little bit. You weren’t proposing an end to your activities, just to slow down – and keep it in more private areas. Bachira didn’t take it well.

And that’s how you found yourself in the sheets of your parents’ bed right after they had left for work, mattress still warm from where their forms had been resting not too long prior. You knew it was futile to try and resist Bachira when he got like this, when his eyes went wide and his pupils blew as he narrowed his eyebrows, setting his sights on you – his prey.

He wouldn’t listen as you tried to tell him how bad of an idea it was.

“You know Mom always forgets shit and has to come back,” you whined as he grabbed your wrists and kissed your neck. “And I’m almost positive that’s her house key on the dresser, ‘Guru.” You shuddered at the thought of your innocent mother walking into her own bedroom just to grab her key only to find her son rutting desperately into her daughter.

“That’s what makes this fun,” Bachira giggled, biting your throat.

His face was partially obscured by his morning-mussed fringe as he leaned back to yank your sleep shorts off, but you could still see his smirk that had yet to melt away.

“God, you’re so fucking wet, love,” he groaned, running his fingers up and down your slit. “About to make such a mess all over Mom and Dad’s sheets.” You just hid your face in your hands.

You almost lost all your inhibitions as Bachira spread your legs with his rough palms to spit on your pussy and run the flat of his tongue from your clit to your hole, the lewd sounds of his saliva and your slick almost drowning out the anxious thoughts that rang in your ear. The bedroom door was open.

His tongue swirled around and flicked at your throbbing clit as he slid two fingers knuckle deep into your hole, curling and pumping in the exact ways he knew would make you come undone. Bachira had you and your body memorized by heart, and he weaponized that knowledge.

But everything was forgotten as he sunk his thick cock inside you, crying out as he stretched you open, both hands fisting the sheets. You almost drooled at the sight of his toned, muscly athlete body flexing as he thrusted into you quick but methodically.

The yellow tufts of hair at the base of his neck curled up at the ends as they were drenched in his sweat, chest heaving as he fucked into you with primal hunger and desire. You could tell the excitement of fucking in your parents’ bed was driving Bachira absolutely wild, his cock throbbing inside you.

“A-ahh, Meguru, feels so fucking g-good,” you whined, unable to deny the pleasure overwhelming your body as his cock rubbed against your sweet spot and kissed your cervix with every thrust.

Bachira only grinned at the praise. “Want more, baby?” Your frantic nod was all he needed.

Suddenly he was flipping you over, pressing your face into the pillow as he pushed back into your sopping wet cunt, marveling at the thick layer of cream that coated his cock. His hand intertwined with yours, squeezing your fingers as he fucked you deep into the mattress. With this position, presenting your ass for him like this, he can see the exact way your hole struggled to stretch around his length, the ring pulsing as it tugged with every thrust in and out. It was nicer for you too, being unable to see the bedroom door wide open, a disgusting reminder of what could be found out.

“Can’t last much longer like this, darlin’,” Bachira groaned into your ear, biting the lobe. “Not when you’re taking me so good like this.” You could only whine in response, your fingers tightening around his own. “Can I come inside you? You’ve never let me before, would love to see what it’s like.” You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the devilish smirk in his voice. Yet again, words had failed you, nodding into the pillow.

Bachira’s pace impossibly quickened as he chased the tightening feeling in his gut, leaving you gasping for air as his bony hips slammed into your ass over and over. His body stuttered and he gasped as he came, coating your walls with cum as he groaned into your ear. The second he pulled out you could feel it gushing out of your hole, dripping down your thighs and pooling onto the sheets. You hoped your parents either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t question why you had decided to strip their bed and wash their sheets for them.

You leaned into your brother’s grasp as he gathered you into his arms, pressing your head against his warm chest. His fingertips danced up and down your back, pressing a kiss into your mussed hair.

“Love you so, so much, Meguru,” you sighed, kissing his chest.

“Love you too, darling. This is what happens though when you try to push me away,” he cooed, a slight edge to his voice.

“I know. I won’t do it again, I promise. I love you.” Your words were garbled as fatigue consumed you. Surely your parents wouldn’t mind the two of you napping in their bed together?

Bachira only smirked as he eyed the forgotten house key on your mother’s dresser, knowing the two of you didn’t have much longer to get decent and get the hell out of there. But that’s just the way he liked it.

[ceasarslegion]

Please tell me about the guy in your college dorm who got scurvy, I love a good modern day scurvy story. Like bro, have a delightful lemon-parm chicken

So in uni I lived in a co-ed dorm building where we had single-person rooms and shared a common room, washrooms/showers, laundry, and a kitchen. We also had a dining hall that we could purchase meal plans from (which i also had all 4 years, because i juggled full time school and 2 jobs at the same time. I did NOT have the time to cook for myself and I would not have done so in that kitchen to be frank). The building was split up into a bunch of different houses which we took personality quizzes to get assigned to in order to limit the amount of conflicts that would happen in this living situation. I was put in the smallest house (there were only 20 of us) and it was full of real chill like-minded people who liked to watch movies with me. This guy was the next door away from me, but wasn't my immediate next door neighbour because the stairwell broke up our house down the middle.

He was the house shut-in. He didn't really join any of the hang outs in the common room, or go out clubbing with us, he just kinda shut himself in his dorm room and never came out. Eventually we stopped slipping invitations to things under his door like we did with everyone else because there was no point. But I saw him in the dining hall and I saw him swiping a meal card a few times so I knew he was on the meal plan, meaning i KNEW he had access to fruit and veggies and even just like, juice. The food wasn't good but you had all the opportunities in the world to make it good FOR you, if that makes sense.

One of my jobs at this point was as an overnight security guard for an apartment building. I would come back around 4am and then crash out until 11 or 12 and then go to my afternoon and night classes. This is relevant because I was coming back into the building after a shift once in full uniform while he was sitting on the front steps and looking like he was hungover to the point of near-unconsciousness. I ask if he's feeling okay, if he needs anything, he waves me off and says he just needs some air. I'm like okay well, you know which doors mine if you change your mind bud.

He was an enigma who never spoke to us so I waved the situation off as too much college partying or something.

Over the next few days this becomes a common sight among everyone, who says they would also come back from their part time jobs or outings to him nearly passed out on a courtyard bench or something, a few people said they heard someone throwing up in our floor's shared bathroom.

About a week later I come back from my shift as usual and crash in bed until noon, expecting to wake up and go to my classes as usual. I grab my school bag and throw my regular coat and boots on and walk to class. I liked to sit in the back of that lecture hall because that prof had a rule that you were allowed to eat in his class as long as you sat in the last 3 rows, so I'd bring my breakfast and coffee in one of the dining hall to go boxes. I did not end up eating my breakfast or drinking my coffee.

In fact I did not make any notes on my laptop.

In fact, the house discord server blew up while I was asleep.

This guy, this fucking guy, had gone to our don (RA, basically) and told her he needed to go to the ER and then passed out on her couch. She doesn't have a car because none of us did, so everyone who was there and awake ended up dragging him to the closest hospital that was a few blocks away from campus on foot. Why they did not call an ambulance or at least an Uber is beyond me, but panic does weird things to people.

Reading through this in the corner of my eye before class starts, I have forgotten about class entirely. I have forgotten about my breakfast and my coffee. A few people were asking if they should ask for the don's master key and wake me up, thinking that i might have training in these things from what my job was (i did), and then others shut them down saying "no, let him sleep. He gets home at 4:30 in the morning" (WHY DIDNT YOU WAKE ME UP I WOULDNT HAVE CARED IF YOU SAID SOMEONE WAS HAVING A MEDICAL EMERGENCY. I COULDVE AT LEAST KEPT YOU ALL CALM AND DELEGATED TASKS)

I send a message in just saying "guys I'm up now what is going on" with an @everyone attached.

Instantly get "several people are typing." That's never a good sign.

So this guy was in the ER for hours getting IV-fed. Because he had scurvy. And they had to vitamin C infuse him. Because he hadn't eaten a single fruit or vegetable or anything derived from a plant the entire school year. He got SCURVY. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2019.

Bro eat a fruit. EVER?? But he just didn't. He just never did. He had fucking scurvy. He passed out and had bleeding gums and his teeth almost fell out. Because he had scurvy.

He did not come back the next school year because his parents pulled him out of the dorms on the basis that he couldn't be trusted to take care of himself after that incident. And I do not blame them at all. Ma'am your kid can't be trusted to eat one (1) orange all year.

[littleadaline]

Once Upon A Time [P.G6]

Warnings: NOOOOONE [just fluff] Uncle!Gavi

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Took me 3 miserable days to figure out the ending but here she is! Enjoy 😽

———————————————————-

The house was awfully quiet. Putting your bag down in the entryway, you made your way to the living room. To your surprise, the tv was on, an unfinished game of FIFA left on pause. Your boyfriend’s slippers were next to the couch, a sign that he wasn’t far away.

“Gavi? I’m home!”, you called out but no response. Your heartbeat quickened, fearing the worst. Unsure, you made your way upstairs as silently as possibly. If Gavi felt like fooling around, you wanted to catch him in the act and save yourself the lame excuses. Entering your shared bedroom, you took notice of the mess that had replaced the neat room you had left in the morning. “What the fuck is going on?”, you said to yourself as an expression of confusion replace that of fury on your face. Perplexed by the events, but exhausted from your day, you began to undress, peeling off your work attire for a pair of Gavi’s sweater and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. A shuffle coming from the hallways made you stop halfway. 

“Gavi? Is that you?”. No sound was heard, aside from the buzzing of the AC, working overtime to keep up with the Barcelona weather. 

Having had enough of the mess, you grabbed your clothes and headed down to the laundry room, simply wanting to put away the eyesores that were the scattered clothes. Turning on the light in the laundry room, a small giggle came out of the hamper. Concerned, you grabbed the first item you could get your hands on, fearfully approaching the laundry basket. Peeling away the layers of clothes, your hand came in a contact with something soft… hair? 

“Joder! What the fuck!”, you yelled out in shock. As quickly as your hand retracted, the small figure of a child jumped out. The brunette-haired child stared at you; a grin as wide as the world highlighting her missing front tooth. “Beatriz! ¿Qué haces aquí?”, you asked the toddler, your heartbeat slowly getting back to normal. 

“Tia Y/N! You’re home! Uncle Gavi and I are playing hide and seek…. Shhh.”, she said, placing her chubby finger on your lips in an attempt to shut you up. 

“¿Beatriz? Where are you?” a man’s worried voice rang through the house. Soon enough, Gavi was running down the stairs to the laundry room, where he found the toddler in your arms. 

“Playing hide and seek, huh?”, you teased your boyfriend. 

“I… I euh, can explain!” He said, embarrassingly rubbing his head. 

“It’s because tío Gavi kept beating me at FIFA. He’s a bully.” Beatriz ratted out your boyfriend. 

“Alright missy, enough mischief for today. How about a quick nap before supper?” Gavi didn’t wait for Beatriz to answer, swiftly whisking her away upstairs for her afternoon nap. After untying her pigtails for maximum comfort while she slept, he quickly kissed her on the forehead before closing the door of your shared bedroom. Jogging back downstairs, he found you cleaning the remnants of their afternoon. 

“How was work?” He said kissing your temple. 

“Not bad! We met our new project leader today. She seems very… energetic, to say the least,” you said, sighing. “She’s invited the team for an introductory supper, next week or so. Please be my plus one! You know how I feel about work dinners.” You whined into his arms. Gavi chuckled. 

“Vale princesa, I will be your plus one. By the way, sorry I didn’t tell you that Beatriz was staying over. Aurora and Javi had a work emergency out of town, and Bee was already at daycare. I picked her up and brought her here.” Gavi said, snaking his arms around your waist and planting a kiss on your neck. 

With Beatriz napping, you and Gavi got started on supper. Pulling the final touches of the dish, you heard Gavi’s footsteps followed by the tiny patters of Beatriz. 

“Look who’s up! How did you sleep, princess?” You asked the toddler while placing her in her highchair. 

“Muy bien!” Her face still bared pillow marks, an indication of excellent sleep. Her hair, while still short, was fusing in any and all directions, making it resemble the mane of a lion. Pushing away the brown locks, you handed her her plate. 

“Blow on the food, Bee. Like this.” You showed the toddler before handing her the spoon. 

Supper went down smoothly, with the light chatter of Beatriz filling the room. Chuckling, you got off your chair to pick up the leftover dishes. 

“Let me.” Gavi stopped you, taking away the plates from you. “Bee needs help brushing her teeth. Can you please help her out? Aurora and Javi won’t make it for tonight. Traffic is too intense, so she’s sleeping here. “I’ll make you a cup of tea once you’re done.” He said, quickly kissing your lips. 

“Come on Beatriz, let’s go brush our teeth!” You grabbed your niece by her hand, slowly leading her upstairs. Kneeling down in front of the bathroom cabinet, you pulled out the basked you kept in the case Beatriz slept over. Shampoo, hairbrush, hair ties, toothbrush-. Content, you grabbed her Spider Man toothbrush before handing it to her. 

Downstairs, Gavi had finished cleaning up the dinner table, slowly putting away the now clean dishes. The cup of tea he had promised you was cooling off on the coffee table. 

Back in the bathroom, Beatriz engaged in chatter, something the entire family was used to. After she was done, you led her to the guest bedroom, where you handed her some pj’s you had kept from her last visit. Admiring Olaf on her robe, Beatriz rubbed her eyes, defeated by her need to sleep. 

“Come on Bee, we have time for a bedtime story. Why one would you like me to read?” You said shuffling through her books. 

“How did you and tío Gavi meet?” 

Taken aback, you put down the books on the nightstand and snuggled in. 

“Well, my oh my, let’s see if I remember correctly….” You giggled. “Vale, it was 5 years ago, we were both 19.” 

“This many?” Beatriz interrupted, showing you the numbers with her fingers. 

“Correct, Bee! Where was I? So, 5 years ago, I met your uncle through your mamá. We had a similar class during university, and one day, my bus was late. We had a presentation that morning, and your mom was so so stressed. Obviously, she didn’t take it well when told her I was gonna be late. So, she sent your tío to pick me up-“ 

“And it was love at first sight,” a man’s voice interrupted your tale. Gavi joined you on the bed, his arms around your shoulders. 

“No, it wasn’t,” you giggled. “We didn’t like each other at first, your uncle was a bit cold.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say cold, per say… more like, intimidated.” He reiterated. 

“Anyways, I forgot my phone in his car and Aurora gave him my address. He knocked while I was making dinner, and I ended up inviting him in. During dinner, a thunderstorm came over the city, and he spent the night at my place. We watched movies, had a mini party with music and my mini projector. Long story short, he asked me out a few weeks later after hanging out together during all our possible free time.” 

“Been in love with my nena since day one”, Gavi said, kissing you tenderly. 

“Ewwww” 

“Vale princesa, you’ve got daycare tomorrow and I’m driving you on my way to practice. So, it’s lights out and away we go.” Gavi said, kissing his niece’s head, followed by you. “Buenas noches princesa”. 

“Buenas noches.” Beatriz answered sleepily. 

[panda-writes-kpop]

What does a demon and a function have in common? (You can test both of their limits!) - l. yb.

a/n: happy dami day! i know the timeline of this fic is messy, but just pretend that it's all okay and I will too :) also I wrote this because I was trying to understand my feelings as an aroace person towards love and I'm still really confused... but at least we got a good fic out of it! ❤️

tw: demons, undefined magic, lots of mentions of death, implied aroace! reader, a bit of religious trauma

word count: 2.6k

summary: you're in distress over your math homework and the pretty demon that helps you with it, and you're reluctant to let your heart do the talking since it ended pretty badly for your friend and her demon companion.

related fics: Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

♡ Masterlist ♡

You shouldn't do this.

You glare at the leather-bound book in front of you as you furiously erase another answer from your sheet of scratch paper. The book was a gift from a friend, one that had struggled with a demonic relationship before.

You hadn't heard from them in a year and a half, and from what you heard from mutual friends, they weren't doing too well. Although you weren't positive that the book was bad news, you had never seen your friend so desperate to remove an object from their grasp.

After doing a bit of research, you realized that it was a cursed tome. There were seven different markings on the cover, which meant that seven different demons were tied to the book. Luckily, only one had been released when your friend had opened the book.

Now, you had to be the one to safeguard it. To make sure that no one would ever be hurt by the book again.

But, as you stare at your Calculus homework, you realize that you have no idea what you're fucking doing. And at 10 p.m. the night before an exam, the tutoring center is closed and the professor is probably counting sheep while their students are stressing out.

You're well aware that it's a stupid, very dumb, unintelligent idea to open a cursed book in order to understand Calculus, but what other choice do you have? Do you fail this exam then fail the class, which would put you a year behind?

What would your peers say?

What would your family say?

A shiver down your back, from the looming threat of parental disappointment, causes you to drop your pencil and reach for the book. Your hand gently traces the seven etchings on the cover, and you notice that one isn't filled in with color. 

The demon that took my friend away.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

You think about the laundry list of concepts that you have to master by 10 a.m. tomorrow, and your decision has never been easier.

I'd rather stick my hand in an open flame than do another problem with no help.

When you open the book, you realize that you're blissfully unaware of how to summon a demon. Do you say a bunch of random words in Latin? Do you do a little hand motion? Do you need an offering?

You decide that your best option at summoning a demon that won't smite you immediately is to plead with the book.

Because desperate never goes out of style.

“Listen, I don't know who I'm talking to, if I'm even talking to anyone in the first place. I'm having a problem. …Well, it's not a ‘the fate of the world rests in your hands’ type of problem, but I still could use some help.”

An orange trail of smoke leaves the book in your hands and swirls like a tornado in an empty spot in your living room. Objects start flying around because of the tailwind, and you have to duck before you take a pencil to the eyeball. 

“Who knew Calculus homework could be deadly?” You joke as you try to not think about the magnitude of the situation that you're in. You haven't even met the demon yet, and the smoke that it creates(?) it is trying to kill you.

Not a good sign.

Once your apartment is messy enough for your demon of choice, the book in your hands shuts itself as the orange smoke starts to dissipate. 

You set the book aside as you gawk at the woman- no, demon that stands in your living room. 

She's dressed in all black, ready to go to a funeral.

You just have to hope that it's not yours.

“How can I assist you?” She softly asks in a semi-uninterested voice.

“I need help with Calculus.” You blurt out as she clocks her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

~

This demon was exceptionally smart, which was good for your tired, mortal mind. She also didn't kill you on the spot - a good thing, you assume, unless the murder is waiting for you on the other side of the Calculus homework.

She was taken aback by your request, staring at you in utter surprise until she joined your side and helped you with your homework.

Her voice was gentle and smooth, and you would've fallen asleep if you weren't thinking about being killed in your sleep.

“Thanks.” You rub your eyes as you set the pencil down as you check your phone for the time.

You're proud of yourself for putting your phone on dark mode (you've flash-banged yourself in the past, it's a one time mistake) as you realize that it's only one in the morning. With a few hours of sleep and a large container of your favorite caffeinated drink, you'd be fine for your exam.

“Is that all you needed? …A bit of guidance with math?” The woman sitting beside you is in disbelief as you nod your head.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You joke, momentarily forgetting that she's a demon.

“Forgive me, but the people who usually hold the tome are more demanding… and a lot less cute.”

“Okay, back into the book you go.” You toss the book her way before trying to hide her embarrassment. 

She chuckles softly before running her fingers over the spine.

“You have no idea how any of this works, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod your head before starting to put your school stuff away.

“Right, right.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. “Dami.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, but she snaps her fingers and disappears with the book in an instance.

Well, that damn book is out of my sight and I now have a chance to pass my Calc exam. I'll take that as a win-win.

~

You don't remember climbing into bed last night (this morning? The days are blending together at this point).

Before leaving your apartment, you say a small prayer before grabbing your pick-me-up of choice from the fridge. You might have this exam on lock.

As you walk to class, you recite Calculus formulas in your head. Partial derivatives swirl around your mind along with the thought of the mysterious woman.

Dami?

She's not a directional derivative, so you should focus on something else. 

You, at least, had the demon situation under control.

 ~

This semester, you officially renounced your academic weapon status; instead, you were an academic victim. Although you most definitely messed up the first problem (why do all of the problems have the same wording yet completely different solutions?), you had the rest of it down.

Your confidence evaporated when the two classmates behind you started discussing their answers and got completely different answers to you. 

Maybe another semester here wouldn't be so bad?

“You did fine.” 

You jump as your eyes lock with the demon from the night before.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize to the two people behind you as you step to the side to speak with Dami. “I like your confidence in me, and I wish I had a fraction of it for myself.”

“There's nothing wrong with having a little pride.” She shrugs as the doors to the lecture hall open.

“Well, at least there's another exam a few weeks after spring break.” Ryujin shrugs before closing the door and walking towards you. “How'd the exam go for you?”

“It was okay.” You softly shrug as you glance between Dami and Ryujin.

“You're too humble for how smart you are.” Ryujin scoffs before turning to Dami. “You new here?”

“I'm just visiting someone.” Dami winks at you, and your eyes avert her gaze afterwards.

Ryujin sighs before adjusting her backpack and clearing her throat.

“They're not interested in guys or girls…. or anyone, for that matter.”

You playfully smack Ryujjn's shoulder before she pretends to be in extreme pain from the hit.

“It's not an absolute thing. I'll know if there's someone I'm interested in.” You nonchalantly say as Ryujin checks her smart watch.

“Oh shit, I've got class in fifteen minutes halfway across campus. See ya!” Ryujin waves to you both before offering a nod to Dami. “Nice to meet you.”

She runs off in another direction as your attention turns to Dami.

“Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I haven't been out of that book for centuries. I just wanted to see how humans lived.” Dami folds her arms before walking to you. “The world is so much different… better, if you ask me.”

“You're not like any demon I've heard of.” You blurt out before biting your tongue. “Sorry, that's probably really mean to say-”

“It's okay, and to be honest, I'd be surprised if I was like any other demon that you met. Not all demons fall from the sky, you know.”

~

It's been three hours, and you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that Dami’s a fallen angel. Who says that to someone after only two interactions with them?

Dami, apparently, because she's been watching you like a hawk as you sit across from her in the campus library.

“You think of me differently, don't you?” 

You don't look up from your computer as you tap your pencil against the desk three times.

Click. Click. Click.

“I don't.” You calmly say before writing an equation in your notebook. “I should be honest with you, though, since you were honest with me. It's only fair.”

You pause for a moment as Dami folds her arms and leans against the chair. She's trying to remain cool, but a small twitch in her left eye tells you that she's more interested than she appears to be.

It's cute.

“I had a friend who summoned a demon from that book… I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She ruined my friend’s life, Dami.” You explain your friend’s story, going through agonizing detail as told through their family and other friends.

You have to pause once to wipe your tears, and Dami offers a comforting hand as the other drops to her side. You, albeit hesitantly, take it. 

She should be cold like ice- undead, unfeeling. But there's some sort of warmth in her touch that can't be explained by the hellfire that she resides in.

Perhaps she's already gotten attached to you. You feel it too, you want to trust her. Can you, though?

She hasn't torn your arm off yet, so you're starting off on the right foot.

Trauma dumping counts as bonding, right?

You bite your lip before shaking your head, feeling the uncertainty of everything crash against you. What are you doing, trusting a demon that hurt someone that you care deeply about?

I can't do this.

“I should go.” You pull your hand out of her grasp as you quickly try to pack your things up. “I'm sorry, I'm probably shit-talking one of your friends that you've known for centuries.”

As you reach for your pencil, Dami grabs your wrist.

“I can't promise that I'm a ‘good’ demon or person,” She softly exhales before looking in your eyes, “but I won't betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

Something pounds, but it's not your head, swimming from the thoughts of your friends and the demon in front of you.

It comes from deep inside you, a feeling that you thought would be forever foreign to you. A magical feeling that “normal” people got to feel. The thing that makes them human, after all.

Your heart pounds.

This isn't you. You need to leave. Now.

Without exchanging another word, you run off into the afternoon light. You know she might follow you, but you hope she'll give you some space. 

I hope she doesn't hate me.

You need to get a grip, and fast, before you rock the boat that's been steadily keeping you afloat for years.

~

Five hours. That's the longest you can last in a little internet cafe before you put your tail between your legs and head home. You know Dami will be there, and you don't want to sleep on a park bench, so home it is.

Will she be mad at me?

Who cares? You're not in love with her, you just like her. 

As a friend. 

As someone you can hang out with. 

Someone to share secrets with.

Friends can kiss, right?

You've known her for less than twenty-four hours. You need to find where your sense of reality has gone and reclaim it before you head into your apartment.

But the key is already in your hand.

Your feet walk up the stairs without your brain telling them to.

You unlock your apartment door to see someone quietly sitting on your couch - the same spot where she helped you with your math homework.

Your stomach and heart fill with dread as you slowly take off your shoes.

She's been kind to you, and you ran off because you were upset about your own feelings.

You felt like a petulant child.

“I'm sorry for running off. I got upset thinking about my friend, and I should have talked through my feelings like a fucking adult. You're not like the other demon, just as I'm not like my friend. Feeling trapped by someone else’s opinions of you is rough,” You toss the keys on the counter before shedding your coat, “trust me, I know.”

Dami looks back to you, and the moonlight casts her in an angelic glow - she was ethereal and you didn't doubt that she was once an angel. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't one of God’s favorites.

Why was she here, instead of in the sky? 

You don't want to pry, but Dami’s the first one to walk towards you.

“I was worried about you,” She softly admits, “a demon, a former angel, a creature much older than you could comprehend, was worried about the safety of a mortal.”

When she is close enough for you to reach out for her, she reaches out her hand.

“I'm not an evil demon or a perfect angel. But I can promise you-”

“I think I like you.” The words spill out of your lips before you can truly think about what you're saying. “I mean, of course I like you, but it's not how I've liked anyone before. I like Ryujin as a friend, she's nice to me and we get lunch sometimes. But you… you're different. And being different scares me. It's not just because you're a demon, it's who you are. It wouldn't matter if you were a demon, angel, or human because I'd still feel the same way.”

You pause to take a breath.

“I'm not normal, and I'm probably not like any human you've met. I don't want a traditional romance with a wedding or kids. I don't want physical intimacy with someone who won't appreciate me. Hell, I don't even know if I want a partner half of the time. The only thing I know,” You take her hand before pulling Dami closer, “is that I want you to be by my side. As a friend or as something more. Whatever we will be, I know we'll figure it out together.”

“I want you by my side as well.” She softly mutters as you place your forehead against hers.

You're both quiet as you envelope yourselves in the serene environment that you've created.

“So, do I meet your devilish friends now, or do I have to take you to dinner first?”

Dami laughs warmly before pulling you close to her.

“Whatever you want.”

You're in deep. She has in her talons sunk deep under your skin, in less than a day. 

She could betray you.

You had to learn how to trust her.

And in time, you will.

[everybodyshusband]

@crimsonclergy's headcanon post got me thinking and i just had to try my hand at writing it out as a little ficlet !! go read his post first, it's awesome <3

1.7k words of aurora gender fuckery, a little dysphoria and a lot of euphoria under the cut >:)

The piece of fabric she's pulled out of her laundry basket is unfamiliar. It's an unassuming little garment, a tight, white, cropped tank top of some kind that she thinks must belong to Cirrus. She stares at it for a while before deciding fuck it. She could do with a new shirt, and if it suits her well enough, there's a possibility Cirrus won't even care that it's gone missing if she gets to see Aurora wearing it every so often.

She tosses it onto her bed in preparation and struggles to unclasp the clip of her bralette—a lacy thing picked out for her that morning by Cumulus, the air ghoulette purring in her ear that the colouring suits her complexion and the laced edges frame her little chest so perfectly—groaning in annoyance when, as usual, she can't quite figure out how to get it undone and has to resort to pulling it over her head. She throws it on and ground and glares at it in frustration before turning her attention back to the top on the bed.

She picks it up and starts to slip it on like it's a normal top but it's tight; tight enough that it has her wondering if it even belongs to Cirrus after all. She gets her arms and head through the openings, but beyond that, she had to twist and contort her body awkwardly just to get the top down past her chest. It makes her weirdly self-conscious about it all. At least, she thinks she's feeling self-conscious. The exact feeling welling up inside of her as she struggles to get the shirt on, and again as she has to adjust herself inside of it so her chest isn't sitting uncomfortably inside the fabric is a foreign one; a tightness deep inside her chest that's different from the tightness the top is providing—this feeling is one that makes her skin all itchy and legs wobbly and she decides right there in that moment that if this is how the shirt makes her feel then she never wants to put it on ever again. But, she reconciles, it's worth taking a look in the mirror before she takes it off and returns it to whoever it's supposed to belong to. After all the effort it took her to wriggle into the garment, it'd be pointless not to take a look.

The first glance of her reflection has her mouth dropping open in surprise and that funny, gross feeling dissipating within seconds. She lifts her hands and smooths them down the plane of her chest. It's... flat? She turns to the side and cranes her neck to catch her reflection.

It's flat.

She can't stop the delighted giggle that bursts from deep in her chest, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in excitement. This is cool. This is different. So different from how she normally looks. So different from how she looked mere minutes ago in her silk sleep shorts and matching lace-y bralette. Her eyes drift to the reflexion of the laundry basket sitting on the bed behind her and she can't help but wonder what she might look like with something over the top of this new garment.

She turns away from the mirror and grabs the first thing on the pile, one of Dew's oversized shirts advertising some band that Aurora hasn't heard of yet; it reminds her that she really should ask him about it sometime, he seems to like it a lot. Underneath the shirt is a pair of boxers and some careful digging through the rest of the basket reveals that, oh. This is Dew's laundry. Oops. After some deliberation, she decides that what Dew doesn't know won't hurt him and once again decides fuck it, she should try the shirt on anyway. For some reason she can't quite pinpoint at the moment, none of the shirts in her wardrobe feel right to wear over the top on her chest anyway.

She slips the t-shirt on and turns to look in the mirror and–

Oh.

Oh.

She looks like Dew. Like Mountain.

The flat angle of her chest even reminds her of Aeon or Rain, and the way Cirrus explained in the simplest of terms that to two of them are shaped more like the boys than the girls, even though they don't fit into either of those categories. The same way Dew is shaped in almost the same way as the girls, even though he's not one of them. And Aurora, she... Well, she's coming to some kind of realisation about all of this and what that might mean for her. She knows that part of her thought process right now is probably quite significant, but she can't quite get a solid grasp on the abstract thought that's floating tauntingly through her head.

She runs her hand over her chest again, marvelling at the way she doesn't encounter any bumps all the way from her collarbone to her belly button. That funny, good, happy feeling in her chest is back and once again, she can't help the disbelieving giggle that bubbles up out of her mouth as she continues feeling the flat, angular plane of her chest unburdened by her anatomy for the first time.

She fishes Dew's boxers out of the basket and quickly swaps out her pyjama shorts for them, throwing the silk garment on the floor alongside her lace bralette and in her head promising to Dew that she'll rewash all his clothes she's worn later, but right now she just needs to experience this.

The way the feeling in her chest expands when she turns back to the mirror and almost mistakes herself for Dew. The way the boxers sit high on her waist but still reach her thighs comfortably and cling to her skin in a way that makes her want to shout out in happiness. The way she can imagine tying her hair up in the same messy updo that Dew prefers in the morning and walking down to breakfast in this exact outfit and starting her days off feeling good instead of just fine. The way her chest sits flat in the shirt and the more she takes in her reflexion the more the elated feeling grows and grows until it's buzzing through her limbs and she can hear her heartbeat loudly in her ears. The way that the closest comparison she can think of is that this is how she feels when she performs; a rush of excitement and adrenaline mixed with doing things that make her feel free.

She spends the best part of the next hour digging through Dew's laundry, trying on his clothes and staring at her reflexion in the mirror. She tried a few of her own clothes too, but although most days she doesn't mind them, today they made her skin crawl enough that she shoved them all back in her cupboard without even folding or hanging them up again—she'll deal with the mess later, but right now she needs to focus on that incredible feeling of happiness that's pulsing through her entire body and keeping her face from displaying anything but a wide grin.

All too soon, there's a knock on her door that makes her jump and rush to wrap a blanket around herself, just in case someone comes in—it's not that what she's doing is wrong, everyone swaps clothes all the time, but something about how she's feeling right now in Dew's clothes feels almost private and for now, she'd like to keep it that way. Cumulus doesn't come in though, instead talking to Aurora through the door and calling her down to lunch, explaining that Rain's put the ingredients out for make-your-own salad sandwiches, so if Aurora wants any of the good stuff in hers, she'd better be quick before Dew and Sunshine take them all.

She calls out a hasty "Thanks, Lus!" and pointedly ignores the way her voice feels slightly wrong in her own ears—she just hasn't been speaking for a while, that's all it is, right? She pulls the shirt, pants and boxers off, pulling her regular underwear and sleep shorts back on, but she can't for the life of her get the tight top off. After a long while of wriggling and struggling that results in her having to wipe sweat off of her forehead with a towel, she yanks the top off and is immediately overly aware of the way her chest moves freely now it's unrestrained by the tight garment. She's never particularly minded the feeling before—she hasn't known anything different—but now that she knows the way the tight top makes her feel, she doesn't think she likes the regular feeling very much at all.

She pulls the bralette back on and grabs Dew's shirt, reasoning that she can give an excuse of the feel of soft fabric or the smell of freshly washed clothes if anyone asks why she's not wearing any of her own shirts, and makes her way to the kitchen.

Lunch passes without much fanfare, and thankfully, one asks why she's wearing Dew's shirt of a band she doesn't even know. As she's rinsing her plate off afterwards though, Dew sidles up beside her and strikes up a conversation, small talk about her vocals and his guitar in one of the new songs that Papa is working on. As she finishes rinsing the plate and moves to leave though, he stops her.

She draws a breath in, waiting for the inevitable—because she doesn't know how, but he must know about the tight top and the clothes and that's what he's going to ask about—and ends up wholly surprised when he asks, genuinely, if she knows where his basket of laundry is.

She tells him she thinks it made its way to her room, but she's not sure. "I'll check," she tells him, as if she can't recall every item of Dew's clothing that's currently sitting in the basket.

He smiles his thanks and turns away from her to rinse his own plate, which Aurora takes as her signal to return to her room, refold some of Dew's clothes and put them in his basket of clean stuff, put the rest back in the dirty laundry basket and return to clean clothes to him later that day.

When she finally does knock on Dew's door with his basket of laundry under one arm, there's a hesitance in her eyes that he's never seen before. She asks if she can come in and when he nods and moves aside to let her in, she sits on the bed, chewing bottom lip nervously.

"Um, Dew?" She starts, hands twisting over one another in her lap. "Can we– Can we talk?"

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

hey baby, I would like to request something? if that’s okay💗

angst with rick grimes, if you can? can do a happy ending, don’t have to.

love you💗

.⋆｡I Forgot To Say Goodbye｡⋆.

Rick Grimes x plus size reader

Arguments were not uncommon for you and your husband but they were always resolved by sunset. This time is different

Warnings: ANGST, death, canon typical violence, arguments, canon mc death, brief mention of Carl’s death, pregnant reader

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

A/N: I hope you enjoy my love 😘

Follow and turn on notifications for my library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“It’s too dangerous! There’s so much that could go wrong!” Your voice was strained and nearing its breaking point. It felt like you had been fighting for days at this point, neither of you willing to back down and admit that you were wrong.

Rick ran a hand through his silvery hair and breathed out a heavy sigh of frustration. “It’s the best plan we have but you’re right, it is too dangerous. So tell me, what great idea do you have that will save us all?” He asked sarcastically. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. You know that this is a bad idea too. You’re gonna get all of us killed!” Your eyes burned with tears but you wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t let him think that he got to you.

“At least I’m actually doing something to try and keep us safe.” He spat. Your entire body seized and Rick’s eyes widened. “Darlin-“

You held up your hand, stopping him in his tracks. “I have followed you for years Rick. We’ve survived so much together. I trust you with my whole being but this, this is something that I can’t stand behind. What if the explosives don’t go off in time? What if the bridge doesn’t fall? You’re running into this whole thing blindly and it’s gonna backfire!” You were begging him to listen for once, you needed him and he was ready to kill himself over a plan that you knew would fail.

“What happens if you die? What am I going to do without you? Judith needs you, I need you. Please Rick, we've already lost too much.” You looked at Rick’s old sheriff hat which sat proudly on the mantle in your home. Your husband deliberately looked away, taking a step back.

“Don’t try to tell me what’s at stake. I’m doing this for you! I’m keeping you and Judith safe. I couldn’t-“ He choked on his words for just a moment before he swallowed thickly. “-I couldn’t save Carl but I can do something to save you now. I’ll be back by nightfall.” And before you knew it, his gun was gone from the side table and the door slammed shut behind him.

——————

Judith had been fussy all day- refusing to go down for a nap, throwing her food, even hitting you when you attempted to sooth her. It drove you both to tears and made you feel physically sick. You knew she wanted her dad but she was just too little to understand why he wasn’t there. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out and she fell asleep in the bed both you and your husband shared, her little blonde eyebrows scrunched in anger. You tucked a small blanket around her and laid a soft kiss to her forehead. “He’ll be home soon baby, I promise.”

As the sun began to get lower in the sky, your anxiety grew. You busied yourself with chores that had been long put-off, trying desperately not to think of your husband and the horde of walkers he would be facing. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind was fixated on one thing.

No matter the circumstances or how long you two would be apart, Rick always kissed you goodbye. He would always tell you that he loved you like it was the last time he would ever say it. But today, he just left and you didn’t stop him.

The roar of the motorbike drew you from your thoughts. It was well past midnight now but you sighed in relief. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, you just wanted Rick home. Abandoning the laundry you had folded more than three times, you approached the front door just as it swung open.

Daryl stood alone in the doorway, unable to meet your gaze. “Where’s-“ You couldn’t even get the question out before he shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of his face. “Daryl.” Your voice cracked, just the same as your heart.

“He said ta tell ya tha’ he loved ya.” Your ears rung as you collapsed to your knees, shock making your body numb. Vaguely, you could feel Daryl’s hands on your shoulders, attempting to shake you out of it, but you were lost. 

He was gone. The love of your life was gone and the last thing you ever did was fight with him. When was the last time you told him that you loved him? He would never know how much you regretted fighting with him. He would never see Judith grow. He would never know-

You were fighting for air, barely able to fill your lungs as your mind spiralled. You could see the way that your friend’s lips moved as he desperately tried to speak to you, but you could hear nothing. Black dots littered your vision, quickly getting larger until the blackness consumed you.

——————

“Mama.” A tiny voice cooed as a little hand pushed against your face. You groaned and tried to roll over but the overzealous toddler followed you.

“Rick, could you get Judith?” The floorboards creaked and then her weight was lifted off of you as Judith squealed. “Thank you.” You stretched out on the mattress, savouring the early morning sunlight on your skin.

“Derl! Derl!” She excitedly yelled. Confused, you forced your eyes open. You were briefly blinded by the brightness of the room before your vision adjusted and you were met with the sight of your dearest friend, holding his niece close to his chest, his blue eyes firmly fixed on you.

Your mind was blank for a moment before last night’s events came rushing back to you. Tears rolled down your cheeks and Daryl panicked. “He’s really gone?” He nodded solemnly, his arms squeezing Judith even tighter.

“‘M sorry. I tried ta stop ‘im.” You waved him off, instead sitting up in the now painfully empty bed.

“I need Judith, please.” Immediately, she was thrust against your chest, Daryl stepped away like you were a wild animal ready to pounce. Your daughter settled easily, her chubby hands curling into your shirt as she laid her head on your collarbone. She breathed out a contented sigh, going limp in your hold.

You wiped away the tears from your face before they could fall into her hair. “You can go. I need to be alone for a while.” His jaw clenched tightly.

“Let me get ya some food. Ya need it for the little one.” But he wasn’t looking at Judith. He left the room quietly but not without dropping his bandana in your open hand, and walked mournfully to the kitchen.

You kissed Judith on her temple and leaned against the headboard, letting the tears fall silently. Rick would never know the child growing steadily in your womb.

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ep 6. people | myj, jjk

sugar, spice, and everything nice ep 6. people.

pairing(s): yoonji x reader x jungkook

summary: Somehow, Min Yoonji found herself in a threesome with Jeon Jungkook and his girlfriend. Somehow. And of course it's not over, because how could Yoonji stop once she's started? And what the fuck is she supposed to do the morning after? Uh oh.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; note: a discussion of depression, previous childhood abuse, touching on suicidal thoughts; pan!f!reader; pan!Yoonji; internalized homophobia; gay panic; f/f/m love triangle; threesome smut (heavy wlw focus, excessive kissing, scratching, voyeurism, m and f-receiving oral, f-masturbation, slight face-sitting); non-idol!AU - Yoonji's POV

--

Well, this was awkward.

In a book or movie, this would have been scene end. Case closed. In real life, Yoonji had to stand awkwardly in her own bedroom as Jungkook and his partner-in-crime cleaned themselves up in the bathroom. It had been a… messy situations, to say the least. She managed to throw her underwear and jeans into her laundry hamper and yanked on a pair of black sweatpants, going commando. Whether that was a good decision or not remained to be seen. She also couldn’t stand her bra dangling about under her sweater so she took it off. And put her sweater back on.

Yoonji didn’t know why she felt weird about being naked, but she did.

There was no rational reason to feel weird about it after what just transpired. Then again, what just transpired wasn’t rational. So. Yeah. Yoonji almost jumped when Jungkook walked into her bedroom.

Naked.

Uh, well, his clothes were all over the floor.

He saw her – obviously – and stopped moving for a moment, big eyes wide. Yoonji wasn’t sure what he expected. She looked away quickly, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable with her staring, as if she hadn’t ogled him balls deep in another woman less than five minutes before.

“S-Sorry,” he blurted.

“It’s okay,” she replied much too quickly. She cleared her throat and spoke more calmly. “It’s cool.”

It, no, she wasn’t cool, but Yoonji had to say something.

“I… I’ll just, uh, find my pants…”

She made an unimpressed tut. “Why? I’ve seen everything.” And turned back.

Jungkook shot up, clutching his balled-up pants in front of his crotch.

“Uh… well…” He blinked quickly. “Dunno if you, uh, wanna… continue. ‘Cause you don’t have to. Or anything.”

Her cheeks heated up. It then occurred to Yoonji that, actually, she hadn’t seen much of Jungkook’s backside. The lower half, precisely. Since obviously he had taken his shirt off before for things like swimming. And such. She winced, not enjoying her own mental gymnastics. He continued giving her an uneasy, apprehensive look.

“Yoonji-noona?”

She was startled back into reality. Her eyes darted about.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He tilted his head at her, puzzled. “Uh?”

“I’m sorry if you… um. Feel left out.”

He scratched his head. “I don’t? Or, you mean…”

They stood there. Him naked and her not. Yoonji sighed. This wasn’t like her. Aren’t we friends? She couldn’t take this strangeness after all. Perhaps it was understandable, but she didn’t like it. “I’m not trying to be weird on purpose.” Even though it was weird. Definitely. “I don’t know. Eh, I do know. I’m still a little afraid of you and I, but at the same time I’m not since we’ve been through a lot in our friendship. And I’m… I’m wrapped up in her, I think,” she confessed. She forced herself to stop looking at the floor and at him.

Turned out, he was mindlessly staring at the floor too.

Jungkook looked back up. He smiled sheepishly.

“Me too.” His face contorted. “Uh, about you and me. And her. If that makes sense.”

She pursed her lips. “I certainly saw a side of you today.”

He grimaced. “Noona, please… Understand that it’s, uh, the moment… I get excited…” His hands shifted and kept the bunched pants in front of his crotch. “Don’t tell anyone…”

Yoonji scoffed. “Who the fuck am I gonna tell that I had a threesome with you and your girlfriend?”

“Dunno, but at least tell ’em I have a nice ass.”

He jerked and there she was standing in the doorway. Running a hand through her hair, amused smile, confidently naked. She did have a nice ass, Yoonji concluded. Unlike Jungkook, she had to also wash her face. Because of Yoonji, mostly. And Jungkook’s, er, enthusiasm. His girlfriend looked from one to the other. Her hair curled over her shoulder in that recently-had-sex kind of way.

She asked the obvious.

“Are we getting dressed?”

Very direct.

“Um.” Yoonji fidgeted with the waistband of her sweatpants. “I… I feel weird with no clothes on.”

The answer came from two months at the same time.

“Why?”

Why? Good question. She almost defended herself and then she saw Jungkook’s expression. Why. Her eyes drifted to behind him. Why, indeed. “I think… Maybe.” A thought occurred to her that she never previously said out loud but was probably true. “I think I’m scared to appear weak. Being naked makes me see myself as weak, somehow.”

Her admission was met with agreement.

“Of course. You are vulnerable.”

Yoonji raised her head to scorched eyes. The other woman ticked her head and walked around Jungkook, but not before shooting him a look and making his ears turn red. Then she focused back onto Yoonji.

“My guess is that you’re probably had a few sexual experiences that sucked in the emotions department?”

She hated how accurate she was. But all Yoonji could do was let out an annoyed puff.

“A few? Probably all.”

Instead of laughing or teasing her though, the other woman nodded. Yoonji rubbed her temples and pushed her hair back, out of her face. When Yoonji was younger, her hair had been straight cut bangs and a blunt bob, but as she got older, she kept it at longer length and opted for curtain bangs. Timeless. Classic. Borderline boring so no one would look twice at her. That was how she wanted it to be. She spied her grey-and-black sleeve at the edge of her vision. Until someone interfered, that is. She raised her gaze to hers.

“I used them,” Yoonji admitted. “All men. Even if I knew the truth…” She trailed off, but the implication was clear enough. “I’m still attracted to men, so… I became one of the guys. Can’t stray if you don’t have the option, right? It’ll be easier, I told myself. But, deep down, I knew.” She looked at Jungkook guiltily. Then back to the other woman.

And she said it.

“I’m scared to like a woman.”

She didn’t know why she said it. But, also, she knew. Woman was the first thought she had when she had met her that day in the park. She had felt the pull too, even if she hadn’t wanted to. Woman. For a long time, Yoonji thought she knew what that word meant. For a long time, she fought against what that word meant, not wanting to be confined to the cage that woman seemed to hold over her. Not because she was at odds with her gender, but because if she balked to it, then it meant that she needed to face herself more honestly. She didn’t want to think of herself as a liar, which probably explained why Yoonji jumped at the chance so impulsively once it was offered.

Shit.

It must have been a short second, but the other woman regarded her with indefinite understanding. She knew, somehow. As if she too went through this thought process at some point, although probably a long time ago, and could recognize it in Yoonji. And, for the first time in her life, Yoonji felt as if someone understood her on a deeper level than anyone else.

The corner of those tempting lips tugged upward.

“Hate to break it to you, but I think you already like a woman.” Light shrug. “At least enough to fuck.”

A muscle in Yoonji’s eyelid twitched.

“You’re so freaking annoy–”

She didn’t get to finish because she was kissed. She willed her body to resist, to fight back. It was a hollow, ingenuine wish. Her body was honest, melting into those soft, memorable lips. Into her. Her luxurious scent, close again. Her insistent presence. Her body within touching distance, and Yoonji raised her hands, wanting yet reluctant.

The kiss broke into a whisper.

“You brought this because of me, right?” that silken voice purred.

Yoonji viewed those burning eyes through lashes.

“Yeah.”

Her taste lingering on her lips.

“I want you to take it off because of me too.”

Part of her wanted to say fuck off or that would never work on me or anything that deferred to common sense. The other part of her wanted to have a cleverer comeback than that. But the part of Yoonji that mattered detected the lens that being held up to her with those words. This was bait. The longer she stared into those glowing coals, the clearer their intention became. Someone who had been burned before. Someone who expected to be disappointed. Someone who expected dishonesty.

She hated to disappoint, but.

Yoonji just couldn’t bring herself to be scared anymore.

The horny had finally won out over the fear.

Her fingers grasped the bottom of the sweater that she had bought because of the woman in front of her. She pulled it up and over her head. Cool air rushed over her hot skin, making her shiver. Yoonji caught a glimpse of her stunned expression. She didn’t hide, but unease and embarrassment were creeping in, even with the sweatpants still on, since now they had seen everything now in some form or another. Yoonji would be lying if she said she was wholly confident. She had always been on the slender side. Pale, willowy. It didn’t matter. This nervousness had less to do with her actual appearance and more to do with the racing thud-thud-thud of her heart, so she reached up, took the other woman’s face in her hands, and kissed her again.

The taste of her lips erased all doubts.

It was as if time stopped. Like the world shifted. Like nothing else mattered except those lips, that tongue, those hands skimming over her elbows, and Yoonji brought them chest to chest, gasping at the supple softness. The sensation of her hard nipples against skin, but also her curves on hers. Gentle sensitive pressure tingled throughout her nerves, blissful, and she felt hands slide over her back, fingernails dancing down her spine, and before Yoonji could question herself, she murmured, “Scratch me.”

She did.

Pain blended with paradise. Yoonji gasped, her hands on the other woman’s shoulders, harder, shuddering, closing her eyes to imagine the imagery of those glistening red nails sinking into her skin, dragging down, leaving lines of flaring pink behind. Over. And over. Crisscrossing. Aching. It hurt in the best way possible. It made the moment real. The sensation of stinging pain solidified the intensity of her desire. Her want was worthy and responded to in kind, and so Yoonji leaned in and caught that talented tongue, sucking on it, mixing saliva with saliva.

The hands clawed down, sliding into her sweatpants.

A deep moan vibrated in her throat, letting go as she felt the waistband being pushed down, nails scraping over her ass, squeezing it, spreading it.

“Look at me.”

The only thing making her hesitate just a little was the constant jolt in her chest every time they locked eyes. The world fell into place. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly even though Yoonji wasn’t sure what the completed image was supposed to be yet. It was illogical. Irrational. Past the physical. Past the mind games that weren’t really mind games at all. She could die in these arms right now and be happy with that.

A wry smile.

The temptress shifted her gaze, and Yoonji’s head turned too, confused, forgetting she wasn’t alone, and there was Jungkook. Seated on the edge of the bed, looking back at them with big eyes and an open mouth.

At least he had the decency to still hold onto his balled-up pants.

It didn’t hide his massive erection, but it was the thought that counted.

“Uh…”

“Having fun?”

Yoonji frowned, nestling deeper into the embrace. “Don’t objectify us.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “Well, you are objectively hot, noona.”

“Y… You…” Hot blood rushed to her ears.

“He’s not wrong, you know.”

Now Yoonji wanted to look at neither of them. “Fuck you.”

That husky voice chuckled darkly.

“The sooner, the better. Please.”

-

“Do you want to touch him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I want to touch you right now. Call it obsession.”

She tried to come off calm and collected. The other woman could see the forest beyond the trees. Yoonji thought that she would be called out. Instead, the response was, good, I wasn’t ready to give him up to you yet, and she was removed from the scrutiny of those dark, knowing eyes. Between kisses, Jungkook was saying something, but Yoonji was preoccupied with the graceful back presented to her, letting the other two be entangled with each other for the moment.

Her fingertips touched that smooth skin.

Traced the shoulder blades of the other woman. Remembered her touch, soft and insistent. Yoonji had calluses from her fingers, both from working on and playing guitars. She wondered how that felt for someone unaccustomed to such roughness. Then again, her partner-in-crime was workout junkie Jungkook. Maybe she has a preference for roughness. Her fingertips drifted down her spine, bending down to trail kisses after, listening to the feminine body under her. The tremble. The soft gasps. The vibration of pleasure under her lips heavenly, delicious, pressing her tongue flat against skin and licking upwards.

Her head turned as Yoonji rose, and lips met lips, traces of Jungkook still lingering to her tongue.

“Damn, that’s fucking hot.”

Yoonji cracked open an eye to glare at him, who simply gave her an am-I-wrong shrug.

No, he wasn’t.

Watching her give him head was fascinating.

Even without Jungkook’s yelp and subsequent whining, she could tell she was witnessing a master at oral. No hands, only tongue, and a flexible one at that, licking around his balls with his cock fully buried into her throat. Yoonji was pretty damn confident of her own tongue technology, but sadly she was out of practice. She doubted she could do swallow that fast and that deep without warming up at the very least.

She didn’t mean to stare.

Then again, this was happening above her head so she basically had a front-row seat.

Jungkook was kneeling on the bed, one hand clutching the headboard, his hard cock lost in the depths of an impossible mouth. Fuck, she even made it look sexy. It wasn’t sloppy or uncontrolled. Swift, constant, and the same depth every time. Yoonji heard Jungkook ask if her needed to be lower and she wondered how his lover was supposed to respond with a mouthful of dick.

One of the woman’s hands on the bed moved and tapped the inside of his knee, making him spread them further apart.

Well, evidently, they had their own language for that.

Yoonji slid down a little more, staring from more set of lips to the other.

Wet, sweet-smelling, divine.

An inkling of self-loathing nagged at her that she should have learned to hate it. She did not. She reached up, tracing, admiring the shape and shiver of another woman’s pussy. Clean-shaven. Not necessary, yet she appreciated the unconcealed beauty. She ran her fingertip over the slightly puffy lips, probably due to arousal. Impossibly supple, silky skin. Foreign but familiar. Yoonji realized she had never seen another woman from this angle. Not in real life, anyway. Excitement bubbled in her chest. She slipped a finger inside, enveloping herself in the quiver of those silky walls, feeling them tighten around her. The scent was heavier now, stronger, and Yoonji realized it wasn’t really what she was looking at that was turning her on so much.

It was who.

She placed her hand on the other woman’s thigh. Nudged her hips down, angling them toward her mouth, and drank.

Damn, she was thirsty.

The viscous juices stuck to her lips, her tongue, the heady taste flooding her mouth, and for a moment she only licked, shoving her tongue inside the wet heat, fuck, so good, how does she taste so good, heavy and rich and addictive, suffocating herself with the soft thighs around her head. Yoonji had tasted herself before, experimentally, and she hadn’t thought much of it. Her own taste was rather mild, she had thought. This was different. There was a sweetness, yes. Musk, perhaps, but more than that. Her arousal covered her tongue like syrup, and Yoonji had the compulsive urge to smother herself, paint herself with it, drown in her.

Yoonji heard Jungkook groan and she wanted to say, same.

She tilted her head and ran her tongue upwards, circling.

She did not expect to find what she was looking for in her first try. She didn’t. That was okay though; they shared the same anatomy thankfully, and Yoonji did know that she herself enjoyed exploring tongue. She listened for the hitch in breath and, with slight coaxing, she was rewarded with tense thighs under her fingers and a vibrating hum above her head. She felt the dip and pressure on her tongue, concentrating at that precise spot and closing her lips around it.

And she pleasured her.

Admittedly, this was probably affecting her more than her partner. Yoonji hoped that she could forgive and realize that she had no idea what the hell she was doing. What she knew was from her own experience only – constant pressure, not too aggressive, and no straying from the pace. Still, it was impossible to ignore the decadent slick on her chin, the weight of another on top, the forceful thrust as those hips bucked and pressed her head into the mattress, mounting her face a bit more firmly, and Yoonji couldn’t help but moan in her throat, feeling messy and dominated and wanting more, more, digging her fingers of one hand into the soft curve of that perfect ass.

Her other hand snaked down her stomach.

She couldn’t stop.

Diving between her legs, stroking herself, leaking wetness and collecting it on two fingers to stimulate herself more as she ate another pussy out, rubbing her tongue against that pulsing clit, straining her jaw to keep the suction. It was hard to breathe but she didn’t care. Tightness blossomed over her chest, her upper thighs, her neck, straining, closer, adrenaline overtaking, so close to the end, so close. If Yoonji had more of her senses, she would have relished in Jungkook moaning loudly in astonishment and begging for mercy. All she could hear was the roar of her own heartbeat in her ears and the delicate but inevitable cracking of her resolve getting thinner and thinner, harshly rubbing her swollen, throbbing clit as her tongue worked on another.

“Ah, fuck!”

This she did hear shattering through her reverie and then she felt a hand grip the crown of her head, those hips freezing in place, and then hot, gushing spasms under her lips, onto her chin, shaking and spilling, heaving flinches of pleasure radiating through her. Cutting off her air. Her eyes rolled back in her head and Yoonji came, her lower body locked, clamping a hand over her trembling pussy, her juices seeping through her fingers, containing the excruciating heat and aching pleasure with pressure, sending the turbulent waves up her torso and into her head in low, expansive shudders.

The orgasm made her feel like she was floating on electrified, sensual air.

It has never felt like this.

Not the high.

The attraction.

Fuck.

-

Yoonji woke up to shirtless Jeon Jungkook face down in her bed.

Snoring away his problems. Absolutely rawdogging it without a pillow. Someone who didn’t know him would be appalled at his complete disregard for neck support. Or maybe scream at his naked presence altogether. Occasionally she had shared a bed with Hoseok and once with Seokjin; both enjoyed the habitual ritual of matching pajamas. Yoonji had never shared a bed with Jungkook before, but she had heard enough from Jimin and Taehyung about his sleeping habits so she wasn’t surprised at his current state. His head was a mop of black hair. His muscular back rose and fell. Well, he was alive. Somehow the covers had migrated around his waist, which explained why Yoonji was freezing her tits off.

She just sighed and begrudgingly sat up.

Then realized she, too, was naked.

Oh, yeah.

For a brief moment she wished she had been drunk enough to forget everything that happened last night. Not even close. The memories played back in jarring flashes and splashes of sensation. She didn’t deny them, but if she didn’t get out of bed right now there would probably be (wet) consequences. As if her sheets hadn’t seen enough. She needed to do laundry.

But, first.

There was someone missing.

Yoonji tried not to feel disappointed. It was pretty damn difficult. She looked down, seeing clothes scattered all over the floor. She noted right away that the dark red slip dress and black bomber jacket were still here. That relieved her a bit, although Yoonji did not think for long why that was so. Instead, she went to her dresser and yanked out an oversized beige sweatshirt, pulling it over her head to warm up a bit.

She heard the sound of running water from her bathroom.

To say hope leapt to her throat was an understatement.

I don’t care, I swear.

She filed that thought away in the mental compartment of and-other-lies-I-tell-myself and quietly made her way to the bathroom, stepping over the clothes absentmindedly. Jungkook was not going to wake up unless he wanted to or if a bomb went off. Even then, hard to say. She felt a little bad leaving him behind, yet the idea of being alone with her, if only for a few moments, if only…

The bathroom door was slightly ajar.

She saw a sliver of someone in the mirror, bending down. The splash of water sang in her ears. Yoonji lightly touched the door with her fingertips and softly called out her name.

A shiver went up her spine as she did so.

“Hm?”

She heard the unceremonious sound of spitting and the door opened wider to a sleepy face and throaty mumble.

“Ah, Yoonji. I had to rinse out my mouth to save you from trauma.”

She couldn’t reply for a moment. Is it to fair for someone to look so beautiful in the morning? She didn’t look that different from last night – obviously, Yoonji, she hadn’t been wearing any makeup, stop being an idiot – but her lips were now deep mauvy-pink. Glossy. A single water droplet clung to her full lower lip. She was wearing Jungkook’s black hoodie, swamped in the fabric, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It still smelled like him, that clean laundry scent persisting amidst sultry, feminine perfume. Her hair was messy from sleep. She frowned and ran a hand through it, using the dampness of her palm to straighten it out a bit.

“Trauma?” Yoonji echoed, not listening.

The devil’s smile reappeared. “Dental hygiene is important.”

She felt her cheeks flush, realizing she should keep her mouth pointed away. “I have spares. Here, let me get a toothbrush for you,” she mumbled, embarrassment rising as she noticed her voice was croaky from sleep.

The other woman stepped aside to move out of the way, calling after her back. “It’s fine. I can just go home.”

But Yoonji was already kneeling, rifling through the bottom cabinet. She found a white toothbrush, still sealed in the plastic case over the bristles, and shot up quickly, holding it out to a stunned face. Those eyes darted from the outstretched offering to Yoonji’s expression.

That gaze softened to a kindling burn.

“Ah… You don’t need to.”

Yoonji poked the air with the toothbrush, glaring stubbornly.

They stared either other down. Proximity close, and yet Yoonji could sense the distance in those scorched eyes. Lashes lowering. Expression undefined. It was only an item, and they both knew what it meant if she accepted it.

She gave Yoonji a gentle final warning.

“A toothbrush is for a repeat offender, you know,” that husky voice reminded her.

For a moment, silence.

Then Yoonji narrowed her eyes and grabbed the woman’s hand with her free one, shoving the white toothbrush into her open palm. Closing those long fingers around it while her heart thudded like a relentless bass beat, so hard it threatened to swallow her chest, and then she immediately het go and turned around, grabbing her own black toothbrush.

“Just brush your fuckin’ teeth.”

Yoonji did not look up to see the reaction.

She couldn’t, busying herself with her routine, running the bristles under the water before jamming toothpaste onto them. Right into her mouth it went, furiously brushing without even once looking at the mirror. It was several, heart wrenching seconds of panic.

And then.

She felt a presence lean in beside her.

“I can borrow this, right?”

A hand with red-and-orange glistening fingernails gestured to the toothpaste. Yoonji nodded gruffly and handed it over, backing away to give access to the sink. For several minutes, they stood there in silence, not looking at each other, brushing away. That was only mildly a lie, because Yoonji did look over to see the other woman staring at the wall, or her white towels, or probably nothing at all. She seemed deep in thought. Yoonji had to bend over to rinse out her mouth first.

She made sure to wipe the lip of the plastic cup she used before handing it over.

A surprised eyebrow raised.

Yoonji cocked one back. “Your face was literally between my legs. We can share a damn cup.”

She saw her stifle a laugh and concede.

It was a little awkward, standing there as another finished her routine, but Yoonji didn’t want to leave yet. She wanted to feel that warmth of her presence a little longer. She saw that the hem of the hoodie skimmed her upper thighs and raised slightly when she bent over the sink. Not that Yoonji was looking at that magnificent ass. Oops. Yet she felt a faint twinge of envy seeing those curves. She was proud of her slender legs, yet sometimes she was jealous of women with more shapely thighs and calves. Curves were an unmistakable, prominent sexiness. Her own slim body type sometimes made Yoonji feel more like a pretty girl rather than a commanding feminine presence. She took the moment to appreciate and admire though. I got to touch her. Hold her. Be with her, if only for one night. It was a good chance to turn comparison into a silver lining.

The sound of water was no longer present.

She felt that prickling sensation when she knew someone is looking at her.

Yoonji looked up.

Jungkook’s girlfriend was watching at her with amusement.

Oh, shit, I’m as bad as he is.

And then the distance was gone and her air was replaced with minty breath. Soft lips, pressing to hers.

And, like Jungkook, Yoonji melted with one kiss.

It’s only a kiss, silly.

The heat drew away and she drew a breath, trying not to shudder. Had to open her eyes, bewildered that she had closed them. They glanced at each other. Then didn’t. The morning-after air felt a little different. More delicate. Strangers that knew how the other tasted. Yoonji looked back to her. She was absentmindedly flicking water off the toothbrush head.

“What?”

Those scorched eyes returned to her. A pause.

Then a faraway smile.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” Yoonji insisted.

Something in that expression. Familiar but unknown. She couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu and jamais vu all at once. It was subtle. She watched a mental battle play out in the silence, then a not-so smile appeared. One that Yoonji knew well.

She had formed it herself numerous times.

“I think my younger self would be shocked to know what psycho shit I’m doing right now,” her maybe-please-let-it-be lover mused. “Shocked that I’m even still alive.”

Yoonji stared at her and understood.

She had mentioned it to the others before when they had been going through hard times, but never delved into it. It was a depressing topic of conversation, after all. The only person who really knew how dark her thoughts had become at one point was her best friend, Jung Hoseok. He truly listened to anything she said without judgement. Hoseok had convinced her to go and speak to a professional about it. She hadn’t wanted to, said she was over it, said she didn’t think like that anymore, even thought that such discussions couldn’t help, but once again Hoseok was right. She hadn’t processed those internal demons as well as she thought. Now, she was able to speak more calmly about it.

“Mine, too,” Yoonji admitted quietly.

A half-smile, but this time directed at her.

“I didn’t want us to have that in common.”

Yoonji shrugged. “Despite my best efforts, I’m a sensitive bitch.”

A small laugh that came from her chest. Yoonji found she very much enjoyed hearing it. Get a grip. The source of her stomach flutters tilted her head.

“Was it them or was it you?”

She thought back to those therapy sessions years ago. “Me. Me feeling unworthy, never enough. Me feeling like I was falling into the abyss. Me thinking I needed to be someone to somebody,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I hated being around people. I hated being alone more. It didn’t matter, because I was always alone when surrounded by people. It got so bad that I couldn’t be around others without feeling like I was suffocating. I never wanted anyone to see the real me. She is not nice, not ladylike, and she could not fit nicely into the boxes society placed down for her. I thought she… No, I thought I was a burden. I thought I didn’t need to be here.” She glanced up, expecting pity.

The other woman simply nodded, listening.

Truthfully, Yoonji appreciated that. She continued. “I had a friend in university who was really into music. He needed someone to help him play piano. Someone in the music department gave him my name. I didn’t think too much about it. I was still determined to stay closed off. But, somehow, through him…” I met them all through Namjoon. First Hoseok. Then Jimin. Seokjin. Taehyung. Jungkook. “I don’t think I considered them friends back then, but that was who they were. And then I realized that, even if I think I’m not that great, maybe I should try to be for people who care about me, even if I think it’s misguided. They chose to stand by me. I should at least do the same. Life is too short to not try.”

“Hmmmm.” This little miscreant had the audacity to smirk. “You are a sensitive bitch.”

Yoonji scowled and redirected the question. “What about you?”

That gaze darkened.

“Them.”

A light scoff and then a sigh.

“Being a successful daughter was the purpose of my birth. I wasn’t a son, after all. Had to make up for that. I think I was told that over a million times. If not, I was told I could be replaced,” she added with a morbid chuckle. “My worth depended on what achievements I could obtain. At the expense of others, of myself, it didn’t matter. There were consequences if I couldn’t claw my way to the top, so I did. Top of my class. Pretty meant thin until I was skin and bones. Dead on the inside so everyone could fill me with their expectations. I wanted to end it. Just so I could have something, anything, that could only be my own.” She straightened, cracking her neck with an exhale. “Got so close and then…” Shrugged, shaking her head. “I was just a teenager. I figured, well, at the very least I should become an adult. Then I could legally drink soju. Can you believe I still cared that much about rules?” She really laughed then, placing a hand over her mouth. “Turns out soju is disgusting. I chose sex as my drug of choice. You can at least force people to take a shower.”

“You probably haven’t had good soju,” Yoonji pointed out.

“True. Even so, I didn’t like how I felt. Buzzed and out of control.”

Made sense. Yoonji peered into the depths of that gaze but didn’t find any embarrassment. I am not gonna die boring. She wondered when it changed. She didn’t have to ask. Like a mind reader, that sly smile caught on.

“I picked a year in the future. Reevaluate then, if you will,” she said, implying the worst. “And I lived that year. It was awful. Went broke, got myself into a love triangle that collapsed on all sides, slept surrounded by cockroaches. Fat ones, too. Was this close,” she snickered, nearly tapping her fingertips together. “To being homeless on top of it. But, I didn’t do it.”

“Why?”

She paused as if to contemplate. “Why…? Because I put myself in those situations. Because I made those poor decisions, and I saw those consequences as a gift. Because they are.” Those burning eyes considered her for a moment. “We all live for control that we will never have. Some people don’t think about it. Some people choose to give up. Some people choose to feel in control by manipulating others. And some people, like me, choose to be utter batshit crazy to save my own sanity.”

This time Yoonji laughed herself. “Gotta go insane to stay sane.”

The other woman joined in, ticking her chin in her direction.

“Put that on a t-shirt so I can wear it.”

The mirth died down. Her lack of fear and calculated impulsivity became clear now. Shit, that’s what hooked Jungkook, huh? But Yoonji could understand. Hot, wise, great sense of style. Wicked good at sex with a killer smirk. This was someone that didn’t want to be anyone else. He loved that shit. And I guess that means me too. Fuck.

“When did you know that you weren’t part of the heteronormative cult?”

The question broke Yoonji out of her thoughts. “Uh…” She was honest. “I think I always knew. I never thought I was off until high school, when relationships started getting dramatic. When others were judged for who they liked. When we were asked to judge others for who they liked. I realized I was different. I had never accepted gender being two vastly different groups of people. Everyone is just…”

“People.”

“Yeah.” That and she had felt that she was equally curious about all bodies. “I also think there’s lots of arbitrary traits that can be used to define male or female. None of them are as important to me as integrity. Anyone can live with integrity no matter who they are or how they define themselves.”

“Ooooh. Clever little cat you are.”

Yoonji felt a muscle in her temple twitch. “And you?”

The deviant leaned against the doorframe and playfully shrugged. “I always knew. A body is just a body.”

Well, that was chilling.

Those scorched eyes returned.

Yoonji frowned, then asked, “Why Jungkook?”

Those full lips parted and her expression softened. She smiled to her frown.

“Because he proved to me that a body is more than just a body.”

Silence.

God, Jungkook is a dumbass.

“Noona?”

They both turned to face the hallway at the same time.

A sleepy, yawning form was making his way down the hallway, thankfully wearing his pants. Barely, though. The waistband rested on the v-line of his hips. Jungkook scratched his head, blinking hard, still shirtless and red-cheeked from passing out on his face. He stretched, making all of the muscles in his chest become defined with his effort.

���Oh, you have my hoodie. No wonder I couldn’t find it.”

“You don’t need it,” was the cheerful response.

Jungkook pouted and spotted her. “Oh, hey, Yoonji-noona. Do you still have my toothbrush from last time?”

She clicked her tongue. “Mhm, stinky breath.”

“Argh, I’m trying to fix that,” he protested, barging into the already crowded bathroom.

Yoonji was already opening the medicine cabinet and taking down the purple toothbrush from the top shelf, pushing away all the other four brushes lying beside it. Blue, pink, green, yellow. There used to be five, but she didn’t expect Hoseok to stay over anytime soon. Keeping one for over a year and a half was just gross. His usual color was red. Since Yoonji’s apartment was close to a main train station, various members of the group often stayed over to sleep before heading over to wherever they needed to go. She had been asked too many times if she had a spare, thus her current system.

Men were forgetful, sigh.

“Here, dummy.”

He took the purple toothbrush out of the plastic case and ruffled her hair annoyingly. “Thanks, Yoonji-ah.”

She smacked his hand and then froze.

Jungkook froze too, realizing what he had done.

He used to do vexing things like that all the time, but not lately. And then he did it now, without thinking. He actually dropped the honorifics a long time ago, often speaking to her informally before, and Yoonji had noticed how they had reappeared again. She hadn’t cared about the lack of formality, nor grasped the distance the return of it had created. With the appearance of his new female companion, she had concluded that it made sense, of course, for him to distance himself from his female friend.

And.

Yoonji now realized how sad she had been without his constant minor annoyances.

She smacked his hand again and frowned.

Jungkook looked offended. Their girlfriend laughed.

“Brush your teeth, you delinquent. I’m going to order breakfast.”

And Yoonji squeezed herself out of there, running off to find her phone.

-

ep 7. let's be happy together. sugar, spice, and everything nice

--

min yoonji masterpost | masterpost

[castillon02]

On the sidewalk outside his apartment, a brown-eyed youth accosted him, saying he looked like the kind of enterprising man who would gladly pay someone to do his laundry. 

In one of those intuitive moments that made him so good at his job, Wade flashed back to Spidey, six months prior, casually asking him what kind of manual labor he’d ever pay someone to do, and Wade confessing that laundry would definitely be it except he’d never trust anyone else to do it. 

Oh-ho-ho. 

(Had Wade silently implied that his laundry suspicions were for Mercenary Reasons and not because he had a specific brand of hypoallergenic detergent that worked for his skin? Yes, yes he had.)

Wade lured the guy in for a “test run” in his “natural habitat” and was 99.9% sure that this was Spidey when he followed Wade into his lair without seeming worried and failed to do a double-take at Wade’s Armchair Throne of Death. 

He was 100% sure when he asked for the guy’s name and the guy said, “Peter Parker.” 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Wade spun and pointed at him. “I told you those camera trajectories were Spidey POV all the fucking way! ‘He just takes the stairs, Deadpool,’” he mimicked. “‘He has a drone, Deadpool.’ You know I spear every drone out of the sky because my body gets temporarily inhabited by the millenia-old spirit of CavePool!”  

Spider-Parker (Sparker? Spiker? Parder?) sighed. “I do know,” he admitted. “And I appreciate it. Times were easier before any Tom, Dick, and Harry could get a bird’s-eye view. Although you making me go fetch your knife kinda makes us even.”

Wade tilted his head. “What are you talking about? You just do the—you know, ‘thwip, thwip, motherfucker,’” he said, gesturing with imaginary web shooters. “It takes like two seconds.” 

“Yeah, now.” 

There was a moment of silence during which Wade, and presumably also Spark-ike-ner, recalled the first time that Wade had thrown a knife at an invasive drone hovering at rooftop level. He had panicked about losing his favorite knife, dived to retrieve it, splatted himself, and woken up to find Spidey autographing the broken drone for a pale-faced twenty-something. Wade had added some bloodstained cash into the bargain, complete with Instagram selfie, just in case the jerk tried to sue later.  

…Cash! Right. Spidey was here for a reason. “So…you’re actually low on dough?” Wade asked. “This wasn’t a weird plot to—” 

“It was a weird plot to earn ramen bucks,” Spidey said with a wry twist of his lips that Wade could actually see because it wasn’t behind a mask, which was. Fantastic, to be honest. That mouth made him wish he could think the word ‘spiffing’ with a straight face. 

“Hang on,” Wade said. “You get money photographing your encounters with villains. You can’t tell me that none of them would side hustle with you. Why haven’t you just, you know, been a little slow to catch one once in a while instead of putting yourself out of a job?” 

“Because that would be morally bankrupt,” Peter said. Then he got a strange look on his face and said, “Shit, sorry, I have to make a call.” 

The lunatic turned away from him, like putting his back to Wade would do literally anything to give him privacy, and pulled his phone out. 

It rang twice before someone picked up. 

“Pete! You know I’m always glad to hear from you, but—” 

“Harry,” Spidey said, his voice dangerously pleasant. “Why does the Green Goblin suddenly ‘break free from his mind prison’ whenever I complain about my bills?”   

“Shit!” someone on the other end of the line said, followed by a clatter of suspiciously metal-sounding objects being dropped onto cement. One of them, clearly round, which was SUSPICIOUSLY THE SAME SHAPE AS A GOBLIN BOMB, rolled audibly and awkwardly across the floor. 

“Harry,” Spidey sighed. “You can’t just—just—I mean, you have gotten pretty non-lethal, at least. What did you even do, last time? That kid’s ice cream? He was six, man.” 

“I mailed him a coupon for a free one after,” Harry said. “Or ten free ones. You know, enough to make up for being mildly traumatized.”  

“God, that was a good photo: I got the dropped ice cream in the foreground since you’d just knocked me on my ass, and you did a great job cackling menacingly in the background. Even the color composition was gold. Strawberry is a strong contrast with your suit.” 

Wade winced at the flattering tone: DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. 

But apparently Harry didn’t get the same signals, because he said, “Yeah, I thought if I went for someone with rum raisin, it wouldn’t—” 

“YOU JERK! You can’t terrorize a six-year-old just because I need to sell photos! Or terrorize a city. No terrorizing!”  

“Peter. Pete. Look. I’m not going to terrorize the city! I’m just going to cause some minor property damage in a way that happens to be photogenic. I had this idea for a thing with some roses���” 

“Cliche,” Peter said immediately. 

“Orchids?” 

“Too sexual. Maybe daisies?” Peter said. “They’d kind of fit your ‘I hate children’ vibe and you could dye them different colors. Uh—IF you did this. Which you won’t. Because that would be bad and wrong.” 

Wade grinned. Spoken like a true artist: starving and with conflicting creative and moral convictions. 

On the other end of the phone, Harry seemed to rally. “Okay, picture this: What if I hired you and a bunch of child actors to do a Green Goblin charity calendar for the benefit of organizations trying to cure genetic diseases?”  

Wade was hit with the sudden realization that he, Deadpool, was like if Peter’s morally dubious and crazypants best Goblin friend fucked his charismatic, award-winning actor best friend and they had Wade as a baby but then left him to be raised by a nanny who was secretly an AK-47. 

That is to say, that Spidey wasn't in this friendship-whatever just because he had a saving-morally-dubious people thing, or a rebellion-against-Iron-Man thing, or even a lookin'-for-some-strange thing. He came by his attraction to Wade honestly. He was just really into semi-competent nutjobs.     

“If it’s for charity, shouldn’t my labor be free?” Peter asked Harry while Wade had his revelation. “I don’t have time to do a free Green Goblin charity calendar for the benefit of organizations trying to cure genetic disease!” 

Harry sighed. “I keep telling you that’s not how nonprofits work,” he said. “All right, wait, let me hit you with this—” 

“Oh my god, Harry, we’re gonna synergize about this never. Bye, talk to you LATER, by which I mean I’m going to need a cool-down of at least three weeks.” Peter ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Anyway!” he said, springing around with a hopeful, too-big smile on his face. “You were about to pay me for doing your laundry and also promise to keep my identity a secret forever.” 

Wade raised his eyebrows beneath his mask. “Oh, was I?” 

Spidey’s shoulders slumped halfway down his body. “Waaaaaaaaade.”  

“Yeah, I guess I was. But you’ll regret it after I show you Mount Sniff-Test.” 

“You mean Mount Job Security?” 

Wade shook his head. “Always the optimist.” At least Spidey had wall-climbing powers so he could reach the top.

In fact, the odds of Wade's laundry pile reaching zero were astronomically low. Especially because Wade had no problem buying more clothes. And if Spidey stuck around long enough, well...maybe Wade could arrange for two semi-competent nutjobs to enjoy two semi-competent handjobs. Blowjobs. Heartjobs. Something like that.

Wade threw open the door of the room that he had previously told Spidey was full of full-frontal pornography and guns.

"Oh shit," Spidey said, his eyes wide as he tilted his head up to capture the magnificent heights reached in Wade's laundry mausoleum. He swallowed and then clapped his hands together. "Okay," he said. "Okay. We can do this if we work together."

Wade smiled. "The fact that you haven't run away screaming from this abomination of sanitation tells me all I need to know."

[slashthrashandcrash]

Okay, I had to go see what JedMEg was for myself and now I'm hooked. Can you talk more about them? Like does Meg ever find out the truth and how she reacts, for example?

I had to go digging for the last ask (here) about them just to remember where I left off in my insane ramblings lmao

So my original idea for this AU was that there is no fog, meaning once the Jed Olsen cover is purposely blown as per the lore, then it's totally game over, there's no Entity to whisk Danny away from the fall out. But that's part of the problem, isn't it? He's gone and gotten himself a little too attached to what was supposed to be a fake girlfriend, a girlfriend who's in love with a man that doesn't exist rather than the actor playing him.

Normally when he would snag himself a partner to accompany whatever persona he was putting on, Danny would kill them just before he skipped down. That satisfying moment of betrayal in their eyes, the soul crushing realization that everything was a facade, a convenience, that he never even liked them enough to give them a quick death no matter how many sweet "I love you"s he told them prior. As well as just another "fuck you" to the cops and community for how close under their noses he had been all along.

But he can't do that with Meg. He has no idea why, it was never this difficult before, but he's also never felt this way about any partner in general either. Fucking hell, he's really gone and gotten a crush on a pretty little redhead, huh? It doesn't matter, Jed Olsen was never someone who was meant to be around long term, and it's about high time he moves on since eyes are starting to shift towards him a bit. As much as it weirdly twists his heart to abandon Meg and leave her behind with the awful truth of who he really is to come out to the public afterwards, he knows it's for the best. Well...best for himself, anyways. And maybe for her, too, so that she's not entirely caught up in the shitstorm (of course, being the very public girlfriend of the now most wanted suspect in an ongoing murder case isn't going to be an easy ride...)

And Meg is beyond horrified to say the least. She still can't comprehend the entirety of the betrayal, that not only would her boyfriend leave her without a word, but that he would leave her because he was the very same murderer who had been harassing her for weeks! The one he was closely reporting on, the one whose ass Meg would try to kick every time he broke into her home, the one who used to threaten her "boyfriend" when they were in fact the same person. Everything she ever knew about him was a lie while she unfairly shared her whole heart to him. Not only that, but it's near impossible for her to try and imagine sweet, dorky, shy Jed being anything remotely close to a coldhearted killer. He couldn't even open a sauce jar half the time!! And you're telling her he can easily overpower multiple victims and haul their bodies around for sick poses???

Now Jed (?) is still out there, still on the loose, and Meg has no idea what to do. Reporters are hounding her for a statement. Police want to wring her dry for any clues or information that might help. People stare and spread rumors about just how "involved" she might have been from the start. And what if he decides to come back in the end, to tie up the loose end he left behind for whatever reason, is she even safe here anymore? Well, not for long, because that stupid ache in Danny's chest still hasn't subsided...it almost feels like it's gotten worse. It's not remorse or guilt, it's longing. He wants his bunny back, he liked how she felt sleeping in his bed and holding his hand and smiling so perfectly for a candid shot when she wasn't looking.

The dirty laundry has already been aired. They could start fresh, in theory. Whether she wanted to or not.

Although again, this was only the original idea I had when I first started making brainrot. There are so so so many new paths I've ended up concocting for them...if Meg found out Jed was a killer right before he left by catching him in the act or fitting in too many pieces herself...if Meg refused to believe Jed was the killer and was instead framed by Ghostface who she now has to hunt down for answers about Jed's real whereabouts...if they got taken into the fog shortly after that anyways per canon with Meg either not knowing or not believing that Jed is Danny/Ghostface while he keeps up the ruse to avoid her truly hating him (plus the outcome for when Meg does find out the truth while they're stuck in this hellhole)...if they were taken into the fog while he was still Jed and then him having to painfully confess why he was put into the killer camp and having to live with the heartbreak he's trapped her with...