#but he can still be scary if its done right

[pineconepie]

bratty reader and the dads? I can already imagine Vincent feeding into it as a joke and then being annoyed when it bites him in the ass lol

I got a few similar asks to this one haha. Oh, and you're 100% correct about Vincent LOL

.

Octavian would find it amusing and cute, but not enough to indulge your behaviors, at least not most of the time. You should expect the "calm dad voice" laced with poison, like "I'm sorry?" "Are you sure you wanted to say that?" etc. etc.

He'd give you many chances before he either tells you to go to your room or sit in the corner to think about what you've done.

Worst case scenario, he'll make you write a formal letter of apology.

.

Vincent thinks its cute and will humor it at first, even egging you on by teasing you, but it does wear thin after a certain point and he'll give you a warning.

If you still continue acting out, he'll drag you to your room and make you stay there for an hour or so to think about what you did.

Worst case scenario he'll wash your mouth out with soap and ask for an apology after. Then he'd be cooing and babying you once again, especially if you're crying.

.

Indigo is confused. Merfolk don't typically have such attitudes, but even more strange to him, he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Do you hate Papa now?? What did I do wrong??" "Don't look at me like that, please... you're breaking my heart, little one, just tell me what I did wrong..."

He'd start crying if it continues, but he'd try to appease you by bringing you extra gifts and cuddles, even if you push him away. He hates the idea of punishing you, so at most he'll just drag you to the nest for snuggles, thinking its the only way to make you calm down. Personal space is not his strong suit.

.

Magnus won't tolerate any sort of disobedience from his hatchling. You will behave, that is simply the law. He will scold you in a very stern voice, and if that doesn't work, worse case scenario is he'll pick you up by the hem of your shirt and place you somewhere scary, like a high branch or close to a wolves den.

He'd be watching to make sure you don't actually get hurt, but he hopes the fear will make you realize you need him because he is your father.

What do you mean this is a bad parenting tactic?? All dragonkind used it on their little ones!

.

Seradiel adores a bratty reader <3 he wants you to act up, because he wants you to act like the baby he remembers and throw tantrums. That means you've fully embraced him as your parent, right??

And obviously throwing a tantrum means you need his guidance.

He would do a good job hiding the adoration he feels from you acting bratty, and he'll scold you accordingly, putting you in time out or taking away your electronics so you have to spend more time with Papa.

[aihoshiino]

ok i'm cooking now. hear me out.

choice-based romance visual novel with a long ass title i will work out another time that abbreviates down to 愛喰らい (Aigurai), meaning the act of or the creature that partakes in devouring love (or you know. Ai.) It's an AU where the KamiAi relationship & breakup still happened but rather than getting pregnant, Ai just had a pregnancy scare. Thus, by the time we join her at age 20, she's much more desperately alone and thus vulnerable to these sort of toxic dynamics.

Each route focuses on a different side of the entertainment industry - Fox Route is about the idol scene as experienced by the talents, the ease of media manipulation when you can sell a good story and the way talents are incentivized to compete with each other when they should be in solidarity. Snake Route is about taking the idea of 'talent management' to its logical extreme and exploring the mindset of fans who prefer idols as nonthreatening and infantalized. Hawk Route would be about the absurd levels of control and dehumanization within the entertainment industry and just how quickly a person can become a product to be sold. And then the final route - Wolf - would combine all these elements into a single, cohesive takedown of idol/oshi culture and parasocialism as a whole.

The intensity of content escalates from Fox to Snake to Hawk to Wolf, with Fox being the least bad of the four but still uh. Not exactly great.

The LI for Fox Route is a fellow idol who admires Ai and wants to ensure her success - she's not just a fellow idol, but his oshi. So he's sort of a Nino type, I guess. The main tension of his route is the gradual realization of just how conveniently Ai’s fellow idols and potential rivals start vanishing from public view, how often scandals and other shit happens at just the right time to keep her on top. He never hurts Ai, just the people who might stand in her way.

In the good end, Ai comes to accept that she’s safer when he’s by her side, even if she doesn’t fully understand what he’s done for her and sort of resigns herself to turning a blind eye to his misdeeds, since they're being done on her behalf and nobody's ever cared about her enough to get their hands dirty for her. In the bad end, she discovers the full scope of his actions and rejects him, only for her career and reputation to be destroyed in the process. He offers her the only safe place left at his side and at her wits' end, Ai takes it.

The LI for Snake Route is an employee at Strawberry Productions... some kind of talent health manager, ig? Who's brought in and tasked with looking after her when she has a strange health scare out of nowhere. Predictably, her health starts to deteriorate and put her in his care more and more often to the point that it starts negatively impacting her career, since she's no longer able to work consistently... there's probably like a scene where she's returning to work and has some sort of scary/embarrassing and very public health emergency (vomiting on set or something) and it causes a scandal.

In the good end, her career is basically finished and Ai thinks it's basically her own fault for being in such poor health. She feels abandoned by the world at large but finds comfort in the LI's arms. In the bad end, she discovers that he's the one who's been making her sick, but before she can act on it, an "accident" ends her career. She survives, but now she's fully dependent on him just like he wanted.

The LI for Hawk Route is some high-ranking executive in the entertainment industry - like a producer or an agency president... or idk, maybe even a guy with yakuza ties. He's really captivated by Ai and wants to help her career flourish with his connections, but he 'loves' Ai in the sense of loving a pretty decoration - she's something to be owned, cultivated and kept in line by any means necessary.

The good end has Ai surrender entirely to him, beguiled by the idea of someone who accepts her to the point of wanting to possess all of her in her entirety. In the bad end, she fights back and he basically crushes her career like a bug overnight and she disappears from the public eye, never to be seen again - because now she belongs exclusively to him.

Hikaru would be the final route, though I don't have as clear an image of how his would play out. I have the themes in mind pretty strongly, though - it would be a sort of culmination of all the prior routes combined into one character. Fox Route is about protection, but Hikaru makes sure she doesn't NEED protecting, because there's no one left to threaten her but him. Snake Route is about dependency and Hikaru doesn’t just make Ai depend on him, he makes her believe she was always his to begin with. Hawk Route is about control and Hikaru takes this a step further by manipulating Ai to such an extreme that she believes she's acting of her own will even when she's playing into his exact wishes. Other than that, I only have a few ideas. He'd show up in all routes via flashbacks and occasionally a cameo and in his own route - Wolf - he appears partway into the common route when Ai's already had a few interactions with the other LIs. He very much represents an oasis/safe space away from the other LIs, at least up until you realize he's the worst one of the bunch <3

Hoshino Ai was born to be the heroine of an otome game populated entirely by yandere guys who would put her in a dog cage

[the-blathermouth]

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[notjustjavierpena]

Applied Physics

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Long awaited smutty piece with a planned sequel. I hope you enjoy, ya filthy animal 💅🎀💖

Summary: It’s the 60s, you’re three weeks behind on a deadline, and your professor, Doctor Reed Richards, makes you face the consequences. 

Pairing: Reed Richards x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: College student/teacher relationship, science talk, Reed has powers, dub con, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, implied dacryphilia, dirty talking, sub drop, aftercare, stern Reed 🥵

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62948440/chapters/161199763

Applied Physics

Dr. Reed N. Richards always wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches that show off his broad shoulders and give him an irresistible swagger. He teaches physics at your college part-time - when he is not out saving the world - and he is equally terrifying as he is warm, a combination of traits that you have learned can actually coexist but only after meeting him. 

You have been wanting him since he walked into the classroom that morning many months ago, carrying a black leather binder seemingly filled with little to nothing since everything appears to be stored in his brain. 

He has standards, you find, and traditional ways of doing things that somehow emphasize his love for the delicacy of science. For instance, he only grades papers with a fountain pen and therefore expects every assignment to be handwritten instead of done on a typewriter which is tedious and difficult for those who don’t possess a steady hand. The scary part of him comes out when he says he simply won’t grade the papers that aren’t turned in as he wants them to be. The warm part shows itself when he later makes a self-deprecating joke about knocking over whiskey during his grading. 

The idea of the paper smelling like his cologne or even, if you are lucky, has a stain of his favorite liquor, makes you hand in each assignment whilst the ink is still drying on the paper. Perhaps you will be the first one to receive notes and feedback from him if you turn in your work before its deadline.

You imagine him hunched over a desk, pen barely able to fit in his rough hand. He wears something casual, maybe even has taken off that jacket, scratching his beard and sipping his drink whilst smiling to himself as he reads words that come from your mind. Your mind makes him smile to himself, makes him single you out from the rest of your class because you are special and he knows this. It’s the image you imagine the first time you come whilst thinking about him, shower head between your thighs and legs against the tiled wall in the shared bathroom at the boarding house you reside in. 

When you do finally get your first essay back from him, you read all the comments in the margins during your lunch. You lick a drop of juice from an apple away from your lower lip as your eyes skim over a scribbled good or well done, trying to find an excuse to read more into the way he looks at you when you talk during class. You made him laugh once, that must mean something, right? He clearly has your sense of humor, the same ways of applying theory and reasoning. 

You know that it is hardly rational what you are doing, projecting all these things onto him when, in reality, you only know of him what you have seen during his lectures and office hours. Yet you have found yourself noticing the way he smiles faintly when you correct one of your fellow students during group work, and it has spurred you on to become even more insufferable to your classmates only to get his attention. His approval too, if you are lucky. 

Yet despite all this, here you are with an assignment running three weeks late, your procrastination having reached its limits and your excuses to your professor wearing thin. It’s a challenging state to be in when you’re so used to ranking your popularity with Dr. Richards higher than everyone else on this course. Sure, his attention is nice when it is rooted in praise but you don’t know if the kind that will follow this lecture, the deadline you’d agreed upon for your paper being yesterday, is the kind that will satisfy something in you like the small smiles have. 

You keep bouncing your leg beneath your desk as you wait for Dr. Richards to enter the lecture hall with that cool aura about him and let the fast-paced lecture begin. If anyone sees you, they will recognize it as an itching to suck up to him once more but in reality, it is the first time you’ve been in the room with a nervous tic. 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he greets as he finally arrives and you find yourself jolting with nerves at the fact that he is finally here and inevitable doom is just around the corner. It doesn’t make it better that his brown eyes sweep over the crowd in a hurry until he spots you, his gaze full of concentration until he gains eye contact with you for less than a second. You sit up straighter at the way he measures you and the subconscious movement of your leg stills completely. Frustratingly, the man keeps talking as if nothing happened. 

After several attempts to regain your composure, you realize that you have completely missed his introduction to today’s lecture and while trying to ignore the thrill that is simmering beneath your anxiety, you scramble to start taking notes. It’s not to show him that you can go back to being his favorite student but rather a necessity to keep yourself from being three weeks further behind.

You power through the lecture even with your fuzzy mind, scribbling things down and making sure to appreciate the privilege it is to be taught by one of the greatest minds to ever live. This is even if he, multiple times, falls into the usual pattern of diving headfirst into multi-layered explanations of different phenomena and concepts, droning on as if none of you and the rest of your classmates exist to him anymore. 

You pretend to keep up when he does this but even you must admit that he loses you. However, you know for a fact that it is not out of disinterest that you stop listening but rather your mind focusing on something else when his words become too difficult to follow. Instead, you end up mapping out the length of his gorgeous neck, the beauty spot where his collar ends. It is enough to leave your mouth dry, but not enough to drag your mind off the scolding you’ll get soon.

When the lecture comes to an end, you have psyched yourself enough to stupidly get up and try to follow the rest of the students out. They trickle out hurriedly though and you find yourself at the back of the school of people heading for the door. 

“Hold it right there,” Reed’s voice travels through the room and hits you right in the back, making you falter in your step. Your last name rolls off his tongue with the same kind of confidence and composure that you’d tried to conjure up just an hour ago. 

“Sir, I was just—“ you rest your hand on the doorknob to signal that you are leaving but you know already that you have lost the fight to exit the room. 

You hear it before you see it; the faint and strange rustling of fabric as something wooshes closer. Suddenly, your teacher’s stretched-out arm moves past you like you have seen it do on television and then his hand attached to said arm splays flat on the door. He closes it with a soft click while you hold your breath. 

Slowly, it retracts back to normal and you follow it with your eyes by glancing over your shoulder. Time stands still for a moment at the sight because while Reed Richards has stretched his body multiple times in the past, without much thought behind it and much to his students' shock, he never puts anyone in the position to experience it firsthand. 

“Sir, I—“

“Come here,” he says quietly. 

You grab the strap of your bag tightly and make your way to the desk where he sits. You decide to beat him to his reprimand, talking even if your voice shakes at his disapproving stare, “I’m sorry I missed this week’s deadline.”

“This week? Try the last three,” he calmly corrects you, “You have done your research on force, impact, and energy transfer in non-elastic collisions, have you not?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you’ve still not turned anything in? Why?”

“I've been overwhelmed with coursework and–” You trail off when he raises a brow. He is still sitting down but even so, you feel like you are shrinking underneath his authority. You find it hard to believe that anything out your mouth right now will be taken seriously when you have let him down three times already but you try to reassure him anyway, “It won’t happen again, I promise,”

“No, it won’t,” he agrees as he pushes himself to stand. He drags the chair away from the table as if he thinks it is in his way, “You’re brighter than most, so I don’t believe I need to remind you what happens if you keep slacking.”

“No, sir, I’m aware.”

“I mean, we’ve already moved way past force dynamics and energy exchange on this year’s curriculum, so you’re wasting my time,” he goes on with an annoyed sigh that tells you he has better things to do, “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I don’t know, sir,” you stare at the flooring.

“Come closer,” he orders calmly. He lets his gaze flick down to your hand clutching your bag of books, “Take out your book on core concepts.”

You follow his eyes and pull out the right book before gently letting the strap of your bag slide off your shoulder until the bag hits the floor with a soft thud. Something tells you that you’re not leaving anytime soon.

“Place it on the desk and find the pages on Newton’s Laws,” he continues and your heart slams against your ribs at the thought of an impromptu pop quiz instead of a handed-in paper. Yes, you know these pages but in the presence of him, you’re not so sure. 

Behind you, Reed has shrugged off his jacket while you were flipping through the book. He folds it neatly and hangs it over the back of the chair he was displeased with a moment ago, making sure not to crease the fabric. Then he reaches for the sleeves of the white shirt that he is wearing and rolls them up to his elbows, revealing the slightly visible veins of his forearms. Your head swims and you subtly press your thighs together, images of what you’d like him to do to you flooding your mind.

“Bend over,” he says suddenly, murmuring it almost as if he knows he shouldn’t have said it. 

Your eyes widen and you glance in the door’s direction. There are so many people on the outside of this room right now but the chances of someone walking in are slim since lectures are rarely started at this hour of the afternoon, “I don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to understand anything. I want you to put your palms on either side of the book and bend over,” he elaborates and clearly notices your hesitation, the direction of your eyes. His arm stretches out in front of you again, snaking its way past the rows of chairs until it reaches the door once more. He locks it, the soft click of it mixing with your unsteady breathing, and then he pulls down the curtain in the window at the top. 

When the arm smoothly retracts once more, you naturally think it will stop at his side but instead, you feel his palm on the back of your neck. His other hand joins to lay on the small of your back and then he pushes down gently to maneuver you into the position that he wants. 

You exhale shakily as you place your hands on the desk, feeling the smooth wood underneath your fingertips as a way to ground yourself in a moment so electric. Your body is way ahead of you, reacting to the anticipation of his next move by making a dull ache settle right between your legs. Your clit throbs, your walls flutter. 

“Your paper was supposed to use Newton’s Laws as a foundation, let me make sure you know them properly,” Reed says simply while removing his hand from your lower back. His other hand, the one on the back of your neck, slips down your spine to take the previous one’s spot, leaving fire in its wake, “Recite them.”

You swallow thickly, “Newton’s First Law states that a body at rest—”

Smack. 

A loud gasp leaves you at the surprise of Reed’s free hand coming down on your backside, heat spreading out underneath the fabric of your skirt where it has struck you. Your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief at what he has just done, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Eyes on the book,” he commands sternly, curling his fingers slightly into the hem of your shirt, “Go on. Newton’s First Law.”

You count three whole breaths before you will yourself to face forward again, looking down at the text in front of you and trying to regain your ability to read. You swallow the lump in your throat, the letters jumbled on the page, “Uhh…”

“Concentrate,” he adds and gives you another blow, one that makes you jolt forward on the desk and send the book almost over the edge. You frantically reach for it, noticing the way your heart leaps into your throat when you consider what would have happened if it had fallen off. 

You drag the book back down and try to act cool but your voice tells on you as you start to read out loud, “A-a body at rest stays at rest, and a body in motion stays in motion—”

He spanks you again and elicits another gasp but you seem to have expected it since you don’t go flying forward. This is even if his palm leaves behind a much more painful sting this time and makes your toes curl in your shoes. 

“Until…” He sounds impatient. 

You act immediately like a dog who is learning about action and consequences, “Until acted upon by an external force.”

“Good girl,” he praises and you don’t know why the softness of his voice makes you tear up. His broad palm traces over the spot that is warming up already and you make a show out of sighing with content. 

However, the soothing touch is short-lived and you start struggling just slightly as Reed’s hand descends until he can grab the hem of your pencil skirt and roughly tug it up. He settles it just above the plumpness of your ass, swatting you to make you focus and stop squirming. 

“I’m not going to fuck you so stop moving around,” he scolds and surprises you with yet another smack. It feels different now that each slap is skin-on-skin contact, sounds different too as the noise echoes through the empty lecture hall. You whine in slight disappointment, even if you have inappropriately imagined his cock in you during circumstances so different so many times. 

“Second Law,” he murmurs, occupied briefly by the bruise forming on your cheek and scraping his nails across it. 

“W-what?” You let out a whimper, your thighs pressing together to soothe your pulsing clit. In theory, you know what he has said but it just isn’t registering since your mind is occupied by you knowing exactly what you will be doing back home if he won’t touch you. In fact, a thrill goes through you at the thought of another blow to recall in your bed with your hand stuffed into your underwear.

“Newton’s Second Law,” he repeats with a smaller swat following. You suck in a breath to calm yourself. 

“Newton’s Second Law states that the net force on an object is equal to its mass times its acceleration,” you say somewhat confidently, a sense of calm settling over you as you finally feel like you are getting a handle on the situation. 

“Apply it to the situation you’re in right now,” he tests you. You feel your face grow hot and hesitation seizes you for a second. It takes a moment too long for him and a much sharper smack lands right on the jiggliest part of your ass, the sharpness of the pain making you moan for the first time and the noise of the blow bouncing off the walls. You almost even swear in your professor’s presence, and you would have if it weren’t for the way tears in your eyes take off the edge.

“You’ll get one more if you don’t open your mouth soon,” he adds. You’re just about to speak, about to follow orders, when he takes a step closer and presses his cock into your hip. You freeze at the size of him, a sound that can only be described as pathetic leaving you. Reed huffs out a chuckle and smacks you once more albeit slightly less maliciously.

“Y–you’re applying a force to me. Your hand is the mass and the acceleration is essentially the swing of your arm. The shorter the time and the greater the velocity of the impact, the bigger the force I feel,” you try not to hiccup through the whole explanation but the words take a longer time to come to you and your backside is hypersensitive, warm, and sore. Your pulse rings in your ears too, and you swear you can almost taste the adrenaline in your mouth from how it is coursing through your body. It might just be salt from your tears though which you realize will simply give you an excuse as to why you stayed behind after class. If you really try, you might be able to conjure up an act of a student who got some terrible feedback.

“Still with me?” You hear him ask, feel him soothe your burning flesh. You wonder if his palm is imprinted on your cheek.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble with a sniffle, your palms sticking to the desk from how clammy they have become. 

“Speak up,” he corrects you and his palm leaves you long enough for you to start anticipating another strike. No hands on your body makes it harder to abstain from feeling his hard cock resting against your hip, the heaviness of it making you even wetter and oh God, aching to be filled.

“Yes, sir,” you enunciate without coming off as bratty. The next strike doesn’t come and relief washes over you, allowing you to relish in the cool air brushing your tingling and bruised skin.

“Last but not least. Newton’s Third Law?” 

“F-for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” you say and rest your forehead on the book that has absorbed a few teardrops, He doesn't give you praise or a soothing touch. It bewilders you, makes you question if your scatterbrained state has accidentally made you say something that is wrong. You go quiet except for your rapid breathing as you go over your answer in your head but nothing comes to mi–

The sudden smack instantly makes you realize where you went wrong, landing across the exact spot that’s already stinging and causing you to hiss and whine through your teeth. Quickly, you scramble to relate Newton to what Reed is doing to you, “If… if you strike me, my body exerts a force back on your hand.”

“Mhm, good,” he hums while your head swims, “And I bet you’re feeling that force right now.”

“It hurts,�� you whimper feebly and turn your head to the side. Yes, it’s the truth but your body can’t tell if it’s supposed to register this as pain or pleasure, the sensations overlapping intensely.

“That’s part of the lesson,” Reed’s hand returns in a gentle touch, his large palm settling carefully over the same spot he has just mercilessly spanked, “Why does it hurt?”

You wish he’d move his hand down between your legs and make you come when he realizes how soaked-through your panties are, “B-because when you spank me your hand transfers kinetic energy into my skin. The force and the friction cause heat to build. The tissues and blood vessels react, and it—”

“Gives you that glow. Precisely,” he finishes your sentence and curls his hand around your hip firmly. He sounds enthralled by his work, “And I respond with arousal, meaning it makes me so goddamn hard. Now, hold still. These last three are for the three missed deadlines.”

You know he means business when his finger slips underneath the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down just enough to settle them underneath the globes of your ass without exposing your needy cunt, the elastic of them digging slightly into sore skin. His other hand lifts and you brace yourself even if you know that any human can suffer through even uncontrollable pain if they know there’s an end to it. 

The first of three strikes lands right on the curve of your backside, harder than any of the several ones before it and making your entire body seize up. He isn’t playing around this time, your skin immediately blooming with newfound heat and fiery pain. It makes you moan out loud and squeeze your eyes shut until fireworks go off behind your eyelids.

“Count,” he says calmly. 

“O-one,” you manage to say in a voice that makes it sound like an apology instead. 

The second one makes it feel like there’s a clap of thunder going through your bones. You jolt forward on the desk enough to finally send the damn book flying off the edge to the floor. Reed tightens his grip on your hip to steady you, dragging you back to him again as if to remind you that despite everything he’s got you. 

“Two,” you say shakily, “I’m sorry, Professor Richards.”

He rubs the spot to soothe your burning flesh and by now, a part of you wants to crawl into his lap and be held. He coos softly at you and gently squeezes the roundness of your ass, making you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale a needy whine through your nose. 

“No need to bring me apologies,” he tells you, “We’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson. Last one.”

He lets you wait for the final smack, but when his hand lands on your skin, a sharp cry rips from your throat. Tears start flowing freely from your eyes now - even if you’re still not fully crying as emotions have not caught up with you yet - but it’s not solely from the pain, but also from the swirl of adrenaline and arousal that tightens below your belly button. You wonder if you should reach up to wipe your eyes but you can’t make yourself let go of the desk underneath you, clutching it in an iron grip because of how wobbly your legs are.

“Three,” you hiccup as Reed loosens his grip on you. You feel the ache of your behind with every heartbeat and want to sob now that it is over. You’re hyper-aware of what is happening in your body which is the adrenaline starting to crash, and the emotions, coming in like a wave, are just about to overwhelm you when—

“Sit up on the desk for me,” Reed says gently. 

“But the book,” you glance toward the textbook that you sent flying not long ago. It is a silly thing to cling onto but there’s an emotional wavering in your voice as you say it which Reed seems to catch onto. 

“Leave it,” he murmurs, an order but not like the previous ones, “Sit. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

The task seems impossible. You barely manage to push yourself fully upright, your shaking legs nearly not able to hold you up, and when you turn around to lift yourself onto the desk, you feel the edge dig into your sore behind in a way that forces a hiss out of you. A tear that you have no control over rolls slowly down your cheek.

“Easy,” Reed is beside you, catching onto your motive when you get ready to jump up onto the surface in a hurry due to his earlier lack of patience. He has previously had a hovering hand nearby but now, he grabs a hold of you to still you, “Do it carefully.”

When you’re finally perched on the desk, you’re not sure if the calming cool sensation of the wood beneath your thighs outweighs the pressure against your smarting skin. What you are sure of though is the storm of emotions inside your chest, a raging one made up of an overwhelming mix of new pain, embarrassment, and vulnerability, all of which makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage. 

“I’m okay,” you lie but you hear yourself and know it isn’t very convincing. He gives you a raised eyebrow. 

“Seems like you’re experiencing what is known as a drop. Come on, deep breaths,” he guides you gently when he spots the way your bottom lip wobbles, “If you have to cry, let it out. No one’s going to see you.”

From his words, you realize that your breathing has become unsteady and hitched in very little time. Your shoulders shake and your chest has a ball of unleashed feelings in it that nearly makes you feel sick. It unravels when the tears that you hoped would subside resurface at the permission to let them flow. You feel them brimming at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing,” you say shakily when they finally spill over even if the tension in your torso slowly ebbs away as you let go. 

“You’re alright. Just breathe for me,” he says softly. He brings his hands to your thighs and rubs them in an attempt to soothe and ground you, “Slow and steady in through the nose and out the mouth. Right now, you don’t have to do anything but calm down, and then I can take a look at you.”

The room around you seems distant as you try to breathe more steadily but you’re lightheaded, feeling almost as if you’re wrapped in a woolen, fuzzy blanket that blocks everything out besides him. You aren’t sure if it is the adrenaline crash anymore or the way that your whole body is so tightly wound for pleasure that won’t come but you crave his touch, crave him taking care of you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over, drowning out the static in your ears, “No more crying, sweet angel. I’d rather not see you leave here like this.”

The nickname makes you snap out of it. Angel? Did he just call you an angel? Your tears go on hold when you continuously blink up at him from your seat on the desk, pawing at his chest without knowing what to do with all your longing. He makes you feel all the things you have felt since you met him all at once now, a dizzying flurry of thoughts and feelings. 

“That’s better,” he smiles genuinely for the first time and you melt right then and there. He looks so damn handsome when he does it that you go ridiculously doe-eyed at the sight. 

“Thank you,” you mumble while playing with the buttons on his white shirt. The butterflies in your belly have nearly made the pulsing ache of your backside disappear. 

“Stand up,” he says and removes your hands from his chest which you probably make a much bigger deal out of than him, “I need to take a look at you.” 

You stand on wobbly legs. Slowly and carefully, he skims his fingers over the inflamed skin and notes out loud that it is warm. It’s not a soothing caress for the sake of tenderness, but rather a deliberate check-in to take note of how much damage he’s done. He works methodically, like a man who daily works with scientific research and experiments, going over each part of you while humming at his discoveries. 

“Right. Cool compress when you get home for the swelling, ten-fifteen minutes on and off. Frozen peas will do,” he instructs in the exact same tone as when he gives out science homework, “The skin is still intact but you’ll be sore if you don’t treat yourself with a little kindness. Lotion if it is too much to bear and loose clothing. Not a pencil skirt like this one, we clear?” 

You nod with the hint of a pout.

“And,” he adds and grabs lightly at your chin, his tone suddenly playful, “Try not to miss any more deadlines.”

It’s a joke, you realize, something to lighten the atmosphere in the lecture hall and you barely register it from the way his fingers hold your head in place. Despite your watery eyes and racing heartbeat, you huff out a little laugh.

“There we go,” he coos at the sound of your chuckle, “Not so gloomy anymore.”

With gentle hands, he reaches just below your hips to pull your underwear up over the curve of your ass again, careful not to let the waistband tug at the sensitive skin. He does the same with your skirt, tugging the hem down over your thighs until you look decent once more. 

Your lips part slightly as your eyes slide up to look at his face, feeling dumbstruck by his brown intelligent eyes and his aquiline nose straight out of the statues from Ancient Rome. You admire the column of his neck, the mentioned beauty mark just above his collar, and the dip that you want to kiss. 

After a moment, you realize that you have gone quiet and when you look back at his eyes, you are dizzyingly meeting his suddenly intense gaze. It is as if he has calculated that you are back with him, lingering with desire albeit still a little shaken by your tears. His eyes are burning into yours and you can feel the restraint behind them. It is as if you can sense the electricity in the air, the warmth that prickles in your cheeks, and the heat that radiates from him. 

Without a word, he reaches to tuck your shirt into your skirt until it hugs your figure tightly, a fashion choice different from how you had arrived in his classroom earlier. The dominance of styling your clothes as he prefers it makes you press your thighs together, the dull ache returning between your legs. 

“I’ve noticed, seen it all. That’s why I did it,” he says cryptically as he stuffs your shirt down at the back, fingertips brushing the dip of your spine until heat racks up it. 

“Noticed what?” You ask foolishly but had you stopped to think, you would have figured it out already. 

“All the energy you’ve put into getting me to notice you and getting my undivided attention. Congratulations, you’ve finally got it,” he clarifies and lets both his hands rest on the small of your back for the briefest of moments. When he lets go of you, you follow his touch by leaning in to close the distance with a kiss. 

He places a hand on your chest, holding you back just when you are pressing the ghost of a kiss to his lips. He has given you so much by now. Why not this? A ball of frustration settles in your chest and comes out as a little whine of impatience, “Why can’t we?”

He doesn’t pull away, simply speaks less than an inch from your face so you can feel his breath on your mouth, “Because you need to learn restraint, sweet angel. I can’t have you missing your deadlines three weeks in a row - or at all really - due to some little crush.”

You want to defend yourself, say that it has nothing to do with him but deep down, you know it would be a lie straight to his face. So instead, you swallow thickly, “I want you. I’ve wanted you since I saw you.”

“And you will have me,” he kisses you so softly that you want to sink to your knees, “Just not until I say so, and certainly not before you’ve been a good girl and turned in that paper.”

“Sir,” you try one last time.

“I’ll teach you to be patient, to have restraint,” he tells you and makes you realize your attempt was to no avail, “Whether you like it or not.”

You give in, buzzing with the need for more, “I can turn my paper in on Monday. Would that suffice?” 

“I’ll hold you to that, but no late nights and last-minute scrambling. If I find you’ve rushed through it…” he lets the sentence drift off, letting your imagination figure out the consequence, “And it best be your best work yet.”

“Yes, sir,” you reluctantly pull back when nothing seems to work, “Whatever you want.”

“Hand it to me during office hours before class,” he instructs to which you nod.

“But what now?” You ask with a tiny impatient noise, letting him know just how much you’ve got against his reluctance to touch you. 

His hand flexes by his side, “Now you go home. You lock your door and you touch that pretty thing between your thighs just how you like it most. I want you to come for me until you’re hoarse. Three times for three weeks but no more than that, not until we see each other again.”

It is Wednesday and you won’t see him until Monday. How on Earth are you going to survive on only three orgasms after this? Your mind races with protests but you don’t get to voice your concern about the limit he has set because he has already stepped back to pick up his jacket from his desk chair. 

You decide to circle the table to pick up your book and stuff it into your bag. Behind you, Reed’s eyes are definitely on you as you lean forward with a hand on the desk. He is fixing the cuffs of his sleeves and putting on his tweed jacket, trying to come off as if letting you have a private moment to compose yourself.

“Monday,” he reminds you when you stand upright again. His arm stretches out between the rows of chairs and tables once more so he can unlock the door for you. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer obediently. 

You swing your bag over your shoulder and then you leave.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[copilot-crashout]

Anyway, I wanted to ask how the tulpar crew would react to reader style. Is gyaru that includes heavy makeup, long nails , a short skirt, etc? In which, they always think she’s a bitch for her style but is the most sweetest person ever? Please and thank you if you have the time!!

Pairing: Tulpar crew x fem!reader

Content Warning: Jimmy's part has brief mentions of misogynistic ideology and language. ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; )

[A/N]: This was a really fun ask. Thank you! o(≧▽≦)o I like your pfp also, I love ALNST!! Happy New Year to everyone reading!

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> As a kid, the first lesson he was taught was to never judge a book by its cover. No matter how extravagant it was. The same applies to you, and he's so thankful for it.

-> If you ever want to take pictures of your outfits, he'll be the best cameraman ever. He'll tell you where to stand and take multiple pictures before returning your phone. He'll take them from different angles, asking you to move slightly to get better lighting. Back home, he'll steal your phone, sending himself all the photos he had taken as keepsakes, grinning like a fool. Yeah, he really is lucky to have you.

-> Definitely buys you clothing to match your style! He wants to support your hobbies as much as he can, noting what he sees you wearing the most often! Takes you out on dates to try and find different pieces for both of you. He has you sitting outside his dressing room before stepping out in a simple low-cut shirt and khaki pants you swore he had at home. He does a little spin, walking slightly to test the fit of his trousers before he faces you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"What do you think, honey? You're the fashionista out of the two of us."

-> Bless his heart, the man really is clueless. He'd be happy to learn from you, though! Ask to dress him up in a similar style and he's hesitant. He's comfortable with what he knows. He'd much rather spend it on you, to see you smile in those gorgeous outfits.

DAISUKE:

-> He thinks it's so cool! He's not one to judge right off the bat, especially as to someone's style. However, his mood dampers once he's aware not everyone thinks like that. He hears the curt answers people give you, the whispers behind your back and the harsh stares he quickly returns when you're not looking. You're not scary at all! How come he's the only one to see that?

-> He'll take you outfit shopping but it's more for him! He rocks with the cardigans you wear so hard. He starts looking around for different styles that he might like. Daisuke loves the way you're dressed and wants to seem as cool as you did when you first met. He leans to more colourful outfits, saving different fit inspirations that he scrolls past on Instagram. He's inspired by those accounts that post couple fits, wanting to do the same with your style.

"This is cute but it looks waaayyy better on you!"

-> He's swapping accessories with you! Daisuke steals some of your hairclips and you snatch his jewellery to wear with your fits. His heart wells up with pride when he sees you wearing something of his. He must've done a good job picking it out. Daisuke kicks his feet and giggles whenever you compliment him on his outfits. You? Of all people!? Like his outfit!?! He's hit the jackpot!

ANYA:

-> Initially, Anya is intimidated. However, it easily melts away at how kind you are! Instead, she's quickly charmed by your confidence to wear gyaru fashion when it's not very conventional.

-> Supports it fully! She does extensive research into the subculture. Dedicates her time to learning about the different types of Gyaru styles and its history - the whole nine yards!

-> She likely won't dress up in that style, but you have inspired her to focus more on fashion. Those socks and sandals may be good for work, but not the best for streetwear style. She doesn't wear extremely alternative outfits but is drawn to simpler and neutral outfits that still scream fashionable.

-> Anya holds onto one of your hairpins when she works! It's a sweet reminder of you and her patients compliment her for it. It's a win-win!

-> While you're preparing for a date with her, she'll walk into the bathroom, observing how you do your make-up and taking note of your routine. Eventually, she builds up the courage to ask if she could do it for you, promising with a grin that it'll look great.

-> You're sitting in the bedroom, nimble hands cupping your face as Anya draws your eyeliner on, tongue sticking out in concentration as she works on keeping it even on both sides. All you can focus on is the proximity between you both, the gentle warmth radiating from her hands. She gently tilts your face as she applies your blush before leaning down and pressing a swift kiss to your glossed lips.

"There. You look gorgeous, starlight. Ready to head off?"

JIMMY:

-> Hates it at first. It's obnoxious, loud, and only makes you look intimidating. Pretty girls like you should be dolled up but only in the way he deems appropriate.

-> He's... Weirdly envious. Not at the clothes you wear (although being able to afford a style like that seems like an unneeded expense) but more so at what it means. You don't care for others' opinions, wearing what you like because it makes you happy. No matter how much he wants to deny it, Jimmy thrives off the opinions of others. He looks like an everyman. The most average man you could conceive of. Not like anyone important. How could you stand out next to him? You look like someone worth remembering and it pisses him off.

-> If you're in a relationship, I could see him warming up to it. He'd still prefer it if you didn't wear it but if it makes you happy... Plus, having a cute girl like you on his arm is certainly an ego booster. He buys you a skirt or two, smirking when you notice its shortness compared to your usual ones.

"What? Don't like it? I thought this sorta thing was up your alleyway? You'd look sexy in it anyway, doll."

SWANSEA:

"This isn't one of those fads, is it?"

-> Swansea can only sigh. This isn't his first rodeo with self-expression. His kids have done it all, including driving him up the wall as they explore their identity through their fashion. It doesn't make him any less confused, unfortunately.

-> It's more... out there than he was expecting. It's not one he's seen before. Rather than researching in his own time, he'd much prefer to get a first-hand account of it all. He asks questions in that fatherly way. It seems like he's judging but he is genuinely curious.

-> He doesn't think he could ever wrap his head around it but that doesn't mean he won't support you. Instead of buying you clothes, he'll pay for your nail appointments, muttering how "you kids are always runnin' me dry."

-> For all his grumbles, seeing you happy is his #1 priority, and the grin on your face when you show him your outfit is enough to make it all worth it.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in sickness and in health

words: 1k

warnings: doctors office, physical appointment, needle warning!, fear of needles/medical stuff, established relationship, husband!rafe, soft!rafe pregnancy cw

“you ready to go?” rafe asks, swinging his car keys around his finger.

“uh, yeah…” you look down to your own hand, keys clenched in your first.

“you wanna drive?” rafe asks, frowning. you never drive your own car when he's available.

“um… i just figured you wouldn't wanna go.” you shrug. “its just a physical.”

“it's still the doctors, and the doctors make you nervous.” 

rafe isn't wrong, you're not a fan of anything medical, but it's just your family doctors office, not the hospital or anything too scary.

“don't you have golf with top?” you scheduled your appointment for the same time he usually meets up with topper at the country club, thinking it would be a good time to pop in real quick.

“i canceled when you put your appointment on the calendar. do you not want me to come?” rafe frowns.

“no, i do! i just figured-” you shrug. “i don't know, you wouldn't want to.”

“what did our vows say baby?” rafe asks.

“huh?” 

“in sickness and in health. im coming.” rafe takes the car keys out of your hand, tossing them back into the bowl on your entrance table. “and im driving, of course.”

--

“thanks for coming with me rafey.” you squeeze his hand, eyes on the clock as the minutes tick by. you arrived early for your appointment, only to be told the doctor was running behind. “even though im not really sick.” you giggle at how seriously he takes his vows.

“i would never expect you to go alone, honey.” rafe simply says. “now, do you want me to go in the room with you or should i wait out here? i don't mind either way.”

“um… actually can you come in with me?” you ask shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “i need to get my flu shot and you know how much i hate needles.”

“shit, a shot?” rafe leans forward to pick his water bottle up off the table, thrusting it into your hands. “here, hydrate. don't want you passing out.”

“thanks.” you take a sip of the water. rafe came with you once long before you were married to get blood drawn, and you think you traumatized him by passing out right after the needle left your arm.

“do you want me to get a snack from the vending machine, love?” rafe questions, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“no, but do you think we could go out to lunch after?” you pout out your bottom lip, although there really is no reason to as rafe quickly agrees.

--

“and you're alright with your husband being in here?” the doctor asks.

you nod enthusiastically. “yup! i asked him, since im gonna be getting the flu shot.”

your doctor nods, remembering from last year how much you hated the needle. “alright, i will just have you sit in here mr. cameron for a moment while we get a urine sample.”

you feel extra thankful for accepting the water from rafe in the waiting room as you're easily able to fill up the sample cup before placing it in the cupboard.

“alright, the labs will get to work on it right away.” your doctor nods. “will probably be done by the end of your appointment, if not soon after.” 

“awesome.” you nod, heading back into the exam room, smiling when you realize rafe was patiently waiting for you to return.

the doctor goes through your normal exam, asking you questions and checking your vitals, making notes to add to the system later.

“alright, it all looks good. why don't you hop up on the table and we can do your flu shot?”

“okay.” you swallow heavily, looking to rafe who stands with you, gripping your hand and allowing you to press your face into his chest.

“don't tell me when.” you say, muffled by rafes shirt. “just do it.”

you feel the poke and stiffen out, letting out a small sound that hurts rafes chest to hear, holding you tighter as the doctor withdrawals the needle and covers your arm with a bandage.

“all done! you did great. just lay down.” 

you lay back on the bed, eyes closing as you breath, thankfully not feeling the urge to pass out.

“im going to have a nurse bring you in some crackers and apple juice while i get your results back from the urine test.”

“thank you.” you manage to mumble as your doctor leaves.

you blink your eyes open to look up at rafe. “that sucked, but thanks for being here.” you smile, rafe bending down to press a quick kiss to your lips as the nurse comes in.

“i got ‘em.” rafe holds the two cups, allowing you to pick out a cracker and eat it before realizing how dry your mouth is. you manage to sit up, head still slightly dizzy, to take a sip of juice, the sugary drink instantly making you feel better.

you keep snacking until your doctor returns, a stack of papers in her hands.

“feeling good?” she questions, to which you quickly nod.

“yes, thank you.”

“so, just to quickly go over your results…” she frowns when she looks at the paper. 

“what's wrong?” rafe asks.

“i need to ask you to step out of the room, mr. cameron.” she says.

“no!” you squeal, before quickly composing yourself. “no, i want him here. especially if something is wrong.”

“your results look good except for an elevated hormone called hcg. it's a sign of pregnancy.”

“im… im pregnant?”

“yes. the results indicate more than three weeks pregnant.”

you look up to rafe, watching him process the information as tears well in his eyes. he finally looks down at you as tears fall.

“baby… we are gonna be parents.”

you let out a sob, not even realizing that you were already crying as well as rafe pulls you into a tight hug.

“ill give you guys a moment.” the doctor quickly steps out of the room.

“oh my god.” you press your hands against your stomach. “oh my god!”

“im… im so happy.” rafe laughs, pressing a kiss against your lips.

“oh rafe, you're gonna be the best daddy ever.” you cup his cheek, pulling him back in for a more intense kiss.

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[yanderefarm]

Hihiii

Nephite when an other follower/ omega tryed to get with us?

yandere omega cultist nephite

cw;; religion, cults, omegaverse, violence

nephite is the least physically violent of the ocs ive posted so far but that doesn't take away from how scary he can be. he's so loyal to the church he has a lot of power for an omega.

y/n: do you know what happened to him?

nephite: he received divine punishment ^.^

y/n: right. i forgot you're crazy again.

nephite can't even breathe when he sees one of the slightly younger omegas flirting with you at a potluck. you're completely unreceptive to the advances of course. but he can't help but hear these words in his ears.

"alphas always prefer young omegas"

right now you were ignoring this harlot but for how long? how long before he became old and undesirable? nephite chewed his thumb nail until he broke the skin, only actually stopping because his mother pulled his hand away. she scolded him gently as she cleaned up his booboo but he couldn't look at her, he couldn't hear her. his sister noticed and teased him a little for getting so worked up over a random omega.

they were right. it was silly. he stuffed it down but he still spent the whole night attached to your hip.

it was fine.

but that omega didn't stop. if you left the house that omega would come find you and immediately start talking to you. his hands would press against your chest, his arms would wrap around one of your own, he would lean his body into you every chance he got. nephite's usually bright eyes would go dead the moment he saw the younger omega. what was he supposed to say? that filth never did it when he was right next to you, always waiting for you to be alone. and its not like it got more suggestive than just flirting. but it was driving nephite insane.

one day nephite was holding a sacred texts study group for omegas at your home. he had been so excited to be the host for this meeting, he spent the whole day making snacks for it! only to find, to his horror, that omega also arrived. you had decided to stay out of the living room while his group was going on but that just meant that horrible harlot could really get you alone! nephite had tried so hard to watch him like a hawk but he'd also gotten too into the discussion with the others. he never even realized when that omega disappeared from the group.

after everyone left he headed to your shared bedroom, excited to tell you about how it went. his hands pressed the door and his eyes immediately went dead. you were sitting on the bed with that omega, just talking. you had been showing him a book you'd been reading recently. his hand was on your knee. his shirt was unbuttoned. nephite felt dizzy, delirious with all the dark emotions bubbling in his stomach. he thought about killing that harlot right here, cutting off the filthy hands that dared to touch you.

you snapped him out of it, asking if group was over and then saying that harlot should leave. you escorted him to the door like a real gentleman. you asked him what was bothering him, if his group had gone poorly. nephite had practically tackled you into the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your chest. he cried well into the night about all his insecurities and worries about you leaving him. and with every tear there was your reassuring hand in his hair, soothing him gently.

but that wasn't enough. the next day he went to confession with a pair of his frilly underwear stuffed in his pocket. he told the pastor the truth. mostly. he exaggerated the amount of adultery that harlot had really done so far. the pastor seemed to know he was being lied to but he trusted that nephite would only be bringing someone to his attention if they were a filthy sinner. the frilly underwear were icing on the cake. he told the pastor that he found them in the sinner's home along with a plan to seduce you.

they made a big show of dragging that sinner through the compound. wherever he was going he would never be coming back from. he caught nephite's eyes as he was dragged crying and screaming through the street. nephite held your arm tighter a wicked smile on his face just long enough for that foolish sinner to catch.

[cxffecoupx]

close contact

xu minghao + lifting one up so that they can place the decorations up on the wall wc: 721 warnings: none ig; it becomes a little sensual towards the end author's notes: ya girl is finally done with her exams!! somehow survived semester 1; dunno how i'm gonna repeat it 3 more times(T_T)... posting this a little late, but i hope you enjoy!! winter wonderland masterlist

"move that a little to the right..." minghao instructs from behind as you hold a string of fairy lights to the wall, adjusting it as he says.

"sweetheart, that's left," he deadpans albeit with a smile on his lips. you chuckle at your stupidity and do as he says, sellotaping it down once he confirms that it's perfect.

you let out a tired sigh as hao hugs you from the back, head on your shoulder.

"don't you think we should take a break? we've been doing this for almost an hour now," he says with muffled voice.

you turn around in his arms to hold his face and say, "don't ever say you need a break until the work's done." you peck his lips.

hao shudders. "honey, you looked a little too scary, saying that with a smile on your face..."

"if you don't want me to look scary, then don't ask for a break. it's very simple."

you get back to work, and once you're done with the walls, you get to decorating the tree, hanging bubbles, little candy canes and snowmen on the branches. once most of the work was done, minghao excused himself to make some tea for the two of you, as you finished setting up the tree.

only the star remained now.

since you were too short to reach the top of the tree by yourself, you wandered around, searching for a stool to stand on in order to reach it. you scurry back when you find one, only to get even more disappointed when you still couldn't reach the top of the tree.

maybe hao was right to keep calling you 'peanut'.

still, you refused to give up; mama raised a winner, not a quitter. so as you struggled to place the pretty star on the treetop, you failed to acknowledge the fact that if you lean once more you'd practically fall to the ground, face down, along with the tree.

wouldn't be the first time though.

just as you were about to finally give up (mama in fact raised a weak bitch), you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up higher than that useless stool ever did. you look down in surprise and see minghao's strong, bulging biceps (you almost drooled) around your waist, his palms pressing into your tummy, and his chin resting right below your chest as he looked up at you. the sweetest smile on his face while your brain whispered to you the most nasty thoughts about this whole situation.

clearing your throat to bring your focus back, you attended to the task at hand (which was NOT drooling over your own boyfriend's biceps), and placed the star on the tree.

somehow it still ended up lopsided.

stupid star, you thought.

minghao started to slowly lower you down, but you were starting to become hyperaware of his closeness to you, his breath hitting every inch of skin that was exposed as your shirt slightly lifted. goosebumps appeared in its wake. he gently placed you on the stool you were standing on, still making you a little taller than him. his head now rested against your chest, and at this point, you're very sure he can feel your fast breathing and hear your heart racing in your chest.

maybe that's the reason why he smugly slotted his chin right in between your boobs.

he starts placing the softest of kisses along your skin, beginning from the cleavage to your breasts and moving up your neck and reaching your lips. sloppy kisses as he tried to cover every inch of your skin. you shut your eyes at the sensation, mind too fuzzy from all the sensations overwhelming you. he nips and licks at the pulse point on your neck, eliciting a moan from you that sounded like a melody to him.

just as he was about to kiss your lips though, the long-forgotten kettle in the kitchen whistles to announce that the water had been boiled. your eyes opened in a snap and hao almost curses at the lost moment, but quickly pecks your lips anyways.

"stupid tea," he mutters, "lemme go check on it real quick."

he brushes your lips with his thumb as he asks, "you wouldn't mind taking a break now, would you?"

prompt by @novelbear divider by @adornedwithlight

[revelboo]

thank you for sharing your writings!! reading ur fics after work has helped w my stress levels so much lol <3333 have a good day!!

I’m glad you enjoy them!

It Had To Be You pt 3

Megatron x Reader

• There’s something oddly fascinating with the slow rise and fall of its chest with its breathing. With the unconscious flex of little fingers. It’s weak. Contemptible, really. Soft, too, as he runs a servo along its spine where it sprawls on its side on the berth he’s sitting on. That light contact sparking through him in that eerie sense of familiarity that makes the servos of his other hand clench on the edge of the birth, metal groaning and warping under his grip. The human sucks in a sharp breath at the sound, head coming up. “So, you live,” he growls, tone carefully indifferent. As if he hasn’t been keeping watch over it and hating himself for it.

• It’s not over. You’re supposed to wake up and this particular nightmare be done with, but no. You have no idea where you are, but your personal red-eyed, metal demon is right there, leaning over you with a look of mild curiosity. And as your heart goes racing, adrenaline jolts through you and your lunging to escape without thought. Right over the edge of what you immediately realize is a very high surface. Your scream cuts off when something smacks into you hard enough it knocks the breath out of you. The monster caught you and as you look up, it’s livid. Furious with your poorly thought out escape attempt.

• Denta bared, he stares at the tiny human in his grip. You’d rather jump from a height sure to break those little bones than be a prisoner? He can understand that, but isn’t about to allow it. Not until he overcomes this awful fascination. “Little fool.” He cages the human between his palms, feeling it struggling to get free and trying to calm the lash of fear that its stupidity struck through him. “Try that again and I’ll break those little bones for you so you can’t try a third time.”

• Breath shuddering out of you at that snarled threat, you curl into a ball. Big and scary thought you’d tried a death before dishonor apparently, not realizing that your flight had been pure, mad terror. You have no interest in finding out how serious that threat is, because you can believe this monster would do it. One of the huge hands caging you shifts and you stare up at that angry face. What does it even want with you? Why take you to begin with? Those huge fingers shift against you, one tapping almost idly against your shoulder as it mutters something unintelligible in its own language. Somehow those soft, little taps are careful. Almost gentle when you’re sure it could bruise just as easily. That at least sinks through the fear paralyzing you. Despite its threats, it hasn’t hurt you, yet. It’s been… surprisingly careful in handling you so far. Like it doesn’t want to hurt you.

• It’s staring up at him through the tangle of its hair now. There’s intelligence in that stare. Calculation, too. Plotting your next pitiful escape attempt? He runs a servo along its tiny arm, then back up and over to tip its chin up. Little hands immediately grab at his servo, trying to push it away. The effort is pitiful, but it still lifts through him in a satisfying rush, because there is some spirit there in that fragile form. Some fight. And he wants that, he realizes. Wants to watch you struggle against him, try to resist him. “More like it,” he laughs, the tip of his servo running up to muss that soft hair as the human tries to squirm away from the attention.

Previous Next

[maidenvault]

A really underrated part of how the inhibitor chips are handled in canon is the fact that they can't be removed without an invasive procedure that has some risk. Whenever a character has his taken out it’s never necessarily an easy choice, a symbolic reminder that it takes bravery to choose not to be controlled by a system, and it gives these moments a lot more emotionality and impact because it’s not just a convenient plot device to restore or preserve their agency.

The most heroic moment Fives has is when learns he has this thing in him and he doesn't even hesitate to tell AZI to get it out, even if trying might kill him, because it so brazenly defies the way all clones have been positioned as powerless pawns whose individuality and choices ultimately won't matter in the big plan. When Rex has been activated and manages to get out just enough words to tell Ahsoka what to do to help him, it's a pretty powerful way of showing how much he trusts her at the end of their journey together throughout the war. Wrecker is the most hesitant to have his removed because he's scared of surgery but sees it's what is safest for everyone.

And thinking about it this way makes me appreciate why Rex's resistance has generally only been acting to help clones that have already willingly turned on the Empire, even though they always try not to hurt the others who may still on some level not be in control of themselves and, some could say, also need help. It makes me understand why the Batch couldn't just try to capture Crosshair at some point in season 1 and make him get his chip removed, something he'd never agree to while still under its influence.

It's implied that the Kaminoans subjected the Batch and Omega to a lot of scary and probably painful tests and procedures as they grew up - so much that Omega understands Echo being triggered by waking up hooked up to monitors and she dreads going back to being used in a lab. Fandom plays this up for angst in fanworks and rightfully calls the Kaminoans horrible for denying them agency over their own bodies in this and many other ways. Even if for a much better reason, the clone troopers who've left the Empire don't really have the right to treat their brothers that way and risk their safety when they're not in a state of being able to consent to it.

Just as none of the clones can reasonably hold themselves accountable for things they've done because of the inhibitor chips, they also can't be considered responsible for saving each other from being controlled by them. It's the Emperor and the Kaminoans that did this to all of them.

[kayhi808]

Please feel free to ignore this if you have done this already but your recent post made my day that it’s got ideas HAHA. Thank you for sharing us this Bucky and his family!

Anw, what if it’s the reverse? Abby doesn’t really understand much of her mama and bucky’s dynamics but she knows, Bucky is her’s and mama’s. AND her mama is HER mama and bucky’s Doll. They belong with eachother. What would happen if there are scenarios where men or even young adults find her very attractive (she’s a milf like that) and/or talk abt her and flirt with her? Will she confront them like what she did with Megan’s mom? Or call help from Bucky? Or Both?

Thank you for this Ask! Abby doesn't like other men giving you attention either. In her brain, the 3 of you need to be together. No one is going to bust that up. Haha! Bucky may have to step in.😉

You and Abby are at a coffee shop waiting for Bucky. His meeting is running long and The Tower is just around the corner. You order yourself an iced tea and a juice for Abby. The young barista included a lemon cake when you picked up your order. "Oh, I didn't order this."

He winks at you and smiles, "It's on the house."

Blushing, you thank him and walk Abby to the benches outside. You catch Abby frowning at you. "What's wrong?"

"Who dat man?"

"A worker at the coffee shop "

"Why he winks at you like dis?" She blinks.

"I don't know, maybe because he was being sneaky and gave us a lemon cake."

With raised eyebrows "Did he steals it?"

Probably. "No, I'm sure he bought it for us. If you don't want it, I can eat it myself."

"No! I wants." Abby laughs and does a happy wiggle.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" You look up and a man is asking to sit on the the other side of the bench. You look around and you and notice most of the seats are taken. "Sure." You gather Abby closer to you.

He looks down at Abby, mouth sprinkled with crumbs. She just stares at him."That looks really good." Abby nods and wipes her mouth off on her arm. Looking back at you, "She's adorable."

"Thank you," you smile down at Abby.

"Like mother, like daughter." Abby frowns at that. "I'm Mike." He hold his hand out to you.

"Stranger danger, Mama!"

You bite your lip, holding back a smile. "You're right, baby."

Mike laughs, "Sorry. Smart girl. We can still talk and get to know each other so we aren't strangers."

"Bucky not liking that."

"Who's Bucky?"

"He's my Papa & he's big and strong and angry."

You laugh, "Baby! I'm sorry, I am seeing someone." To Abby, "Finish your cake."

Mike produces a business card, "If you change your mind."

"Mama not changing mind!" Abby mumbles around a mouthful of cake.

In the blink of an eye, the card is snatched out of Mike's hand. "Change her mind about what?"

Abby's face lights up with a smile, "Papa!" She launches herself off the bench before you can stop her. Bucky effortlessly snagging her mid air. The Winter Soldier glare never leaving poor Mike.

"He talk to Mama & she said she seeing someone so he try give her card. If she change her mind."

"is that so," looking at the card, "Michael?" Bucky flicks the card back at Mike and he flinches.

"S...sorry. It was a mistake." He quickly gets up to leave.

Abby cackles at his retreating back.

"Was that really necessary?"

Bucky leans down to kiss you, "Evidently it was." Turning to Abby, "Did you just call me Papa?" The Winter Soldier glare is no where to be found, but in its place is a look of joy and wonder.

"Yous my Papa Bear. Growly and scary," squeezing his face between her palms, "but I no needs be scared cos you my Papa. You scared them nots me."

"That's right, my girl. You never have to fear me." Bucky hold her close and presses a kiss to her forehead.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood

[rivereverie]

What I like about the Dryad Test scene (Astarion romance spoilers)

So I haven't done any other character's romance yet, but I want to talk about the brilliance of Astarion's version of the “romance test” scene in the circus. While I do think it was a missed opportunity to show a little more vulnerable reaction when you first call him forward to do the test (calling him the "one you love"), before he covers it up with his usual mask, I think this is a beautifully subtle scene overall. Which is impressive given how indulgent it is. The whole premise is that you full well know the true answers to the questions, but if you want to make him happy and comfortable, you wont give them. He’s clearly uncomfortable with you bringing up personal information in front of an audience, even if it’s to correctly answer the question. He obviously isn’t taking the test seriously at all, and is doing it more to just have fun and mess around. As much as I adore sincerity, this scene is just so in-character for Astarion I can't be mad at it. You’re showing him how well you know him *by* answering incorrectly, because you know *that’s* what he wants. You're showing that you know him, and you don't need to prove it. While it would have been fun and cute to just have a little moment here that plays right into the dryad's game without any twists, this execution of the scene suits Astarion's current emotional state so much better, and makes it more engaging. The story doesn't just pander to the player, no matter how indulgent Astarion seems as a character. He’s imperfect and struggling a lot, and the player needs genuine patience to see the real him in those rare moments when he lets the mask fall.

He’s been making some very slow changes throughout the game up to this point, and he’s still grappling with that. It’s obvious that even he doesn't really understand or want to face his feelings and how he’s changed, as he’s unwilling to even put a label on his relationship with the player character at this point. He’s all about using his mask as a shield, and so the times we’ve seen behind it have been insanely vulnerable by his standards; private moments meant to stay between the two of you. So of course he wouldn't like it if you just bring up his deepest feelings in a public setting all for some silly carnival activity. He’s also very much the type to say: “like I need a dryad to tell me how I feel”, when prompted with the game in the first place. He probably only agreed because the player wanted to, and he wanted to just have a bit of a laugh. It’s not that he doesn't have genuine feelings for the character, but rather that he has no clue how to handle them. He’s probably holding back a lot at this point in the story, and it probably scares him that he’s getting so attached to someone. Someone that could be taken from him. He probably sees that as a weakness that Cazdor could exploit to hurt him even more, and so his  natural instinct would be to keep everything close to his chest. Orin’s line about Gortash using our connection as a noose by which to hang us probably illustrates his fears perfectly. It’s scary when you have feelings beyond your control, and given that he probably hasn't felt this way about someone in as long as he can remember, if ever, he’s probably even more unnerved. This subtle internal struggle is perfectly illustrated in this scene. At this point in the story overall, he’s confused, on edge, afraid, angry, but also maybe the slightest bit hopeful for the first time in a long time, because of the player. 

The best part is that his instincts about not wanting his personal information shared with a stranger is justified, as Orin shows up to ruin the fun. Apparently in early versions of the game, its at this point that she would kidnap the player’s romanced companion, but apparently play testers hated that (this is just what I've heard). It would be so neat, even though I'd panic and drop everything to hunt her down. That sinking feeling when Orin reveals herself is only magnified if you answer the “true” options during the love test, because now one of our greatest enemies has critical information that could be used to hurt our loved one. 

Anyway I just love how subversive this scene is because of who Astarion is as a person, and how it illustrates the unique bond he has with the player character. His reactions are so cute when you give answers that he likes (like saying what he wants most is revenge, or that most things fear *him*, actually). This is a rare moment when it seems like he's actually having fun. It's just two idiots in love messing around, and that's important.

(This is all just my interpretation. Feel free to disagree)

[anneapocalypse]

I'll be interested to see what further developments happen in the patches with Alexandria, but so far I think Wuk Lamat is handling the situation very delicately, and very smartly.

Alexandria is, undeniably, an invading force in Xak Tural. It's a foreign nation that has moved onto Turali land and claimed that land and its people under its own sovereignty, with the intent to harvest a resource from it at the direct expense of its people. This is, obviously, wrong, and needs an answer.

Wuk Lamat as the Vow of Resolve has, with the help of her allies, already achieved something pretty significant and challenging here: she has defeated the invading government (Sphene and Zoraal Ja) without directly declaring war on Alexandria's people (most of whom probably had little to no say in the invasion). Her diplomacy during her initial introduction to Alexandria has probably gone a long way here; she has not given the people any more reason than absolutely necessary to believe she is a threat to them.

Declaring the very young Gulool Ja Alexandria's new king feels undeniably weird in more ways than one, but I think that politically it's probably the smartest thing Wuk Lamat could have done.

Her goal, as it's always been, is to maintain peace for her people. A good number of her people are now directly entangled with Alexandria. A rebellion against Tuliyollal rule by the Alexandrians is a direct threat to her people, particularly the ones living in Heritage Found. Even with Sphene gone, Alexandria is still possessed of substantial military power and weapons technology that could conceivably be commandeered either by existing military personnel (because even an army of robots requires some level of manpower to maintain) or by a civilian militia were one to arise. Bottom line: even with the head cut off, Alexandria still poses a threat to the safety and sovereignty of Tuliyollal. And even if the Dawnservants could be reasonably certain their own forces could overpower the Alexandrians--which they conceivably could based on sheer numbers--there would still be a bunch of their own people caught in the crossfire.

Furthermore, the defeat of Sphene and the shutting down of Living Memory means that the end of regulators and spare souls is coming. (The new raid series suggests too that the Warrior of Light may have a hand in ending the use of souls.) This is going to be highly disruptive to the Alexandrian way of life, and probably really fucking scary to a people who have become reliant on this technology. There are bound to be objections. While it's unclear to me at this time how many people knew what Sphene was actually doing, it's not inconceivable that more could find out, and that someone might seek to put her plans in motion once again in order to preserve the soul economy.

This is, in short, a pretty precarious situation politically, and a lesser Dawnservant would already be looking at a city teetering on the edge of revolt.

So, how do we convince the Alexandrians we aren't a threat to them in the short term, while we figure out how we're going to handle this in the long term?

Well, a good first step is probably to give them their king. Alexandria is, at least in name, a monarchy. By the rules of that system, Gulool Ja is a rightful heir to the throne. By allowing him to claim that birthright, you make a show of respecting Alexandrian "sovereignty." You also declare him family--he's your nephew, after all. Now you have a familial connection, the stuff of which royal alliances are made. And of course, the new king is just a child. He's going to need advisors, a regent, and a lot of guidance. You can have a hand in that.

Sure, the Alexandrians are going to notice your influence over their ruler and might still have feelings about that. It's not a perfect solution. But by the same token, snatching their one living heir away from them and openly declaring them under your rule now is probably going to go over a lot worse.

Like I think the game kind of downplays this being a calculated choice, especially since Wuk Lamat doesn't come across as a calculating person. But if we were to observe this scenario in any other fantasy setting... that's how you install a puppet king. I don't especially like to use that term in this case, because I think Wuk Lamat genuinely cares about her nephew and isn't simply using him to maintain power. Nonetheless, it is an undeniably political move, and one that benefits Tuliyollal.

It's likely the Alexandrian people are here to stay--thanks to the dimensional compression, they're in the unique situation where the land they live on is both theirs and not theirs, and that is a problem, but forced relocation also isn't a great solution.

Judging by Wuk Lamat's goals, ethos and the example of her father, I think her hope is probably to bring Alexandria under the banner of Tuliyollal without having to shed blood for it, not least the blood of her own people who would be caught in the crossfire. She understands now that sometimes there's no more room for diplomacy and you have to fight your enemies head on, but if there's a chance she can do this peacefully, through diplomacy, then she's going to try, because that's who she is. She also probably understands that most Alexandrians had no choice in this, and a show of good faith might go a long way toward earning their trust as they adapt to the loss of their queen and the changes that will inevitably follow.

It's a bad situation without a doubt, and one that's already been very destructive to the people of Xak Tural. Gulool Ja Ja sought to unite rather than to conquer. I think Wuk Lamat's hope is to do the same, for the practical purpose of limiting further damage as much as possible.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hi! If you’re taking requests I’ve been thinking about reader who was arrested and sent to Stillwater and she looks weak and soft so other inmates start picking on her, and Vi offers her protection if reader becomes her prison bitch

Sorry for the wait I've been busy recently and with requests overall but here's something short for you!! I've gotten actually a lot of hype on reader being Vi's prison wife so after I finish my big projects in a month or so I want to try to plan an actual fic for that

Content: No content warnings on this, it's mainly just sweetness because the request isn't specifically nsfw

If Stillwater wasn’t scary from the outside, the inside was sure to leave its prisoners with nothing but fear. Fear of having enforcers visit you for “talks”, fear of the prisoners itself. All of it was a hellhole of problems. 

You weren’t even given a trial, just thrown into the building like it was nothing. Placed in a cell to rot for the rest of your life for only trying to survive. The thing Piltover’s elites won’t tell their citizens is that when they notice a few valuables missing, probably in the hands of a Zaunite, it’s because they refuse to acknowledge their poverty-stricken side. The council buries the bodies on the streets, the shimmer being sold like it’s water, and the corruption in their own justice system. 

Here you were to be tormented for the rest of your life behind bars, your cell not even half the size of a bedroom. 

You weren’t cut out for prison. You truly weren’t like most people in Zaun in the first place, at least not the ones who end up in Stillwater. You only stole to pay bills and have dinner on your table, though it could be argued many Zaunites do for the same reason. You were teased in the undercity for being a push-over, but you had some form of protection in the real world. In here, it seems you have none. At least for now, that is.

Vi noticed you in the cafeteria when you sat only a few tables away from her. You looked shaken, but also scared. That was unusual in a place like this, where most people were so easily able to hide their fears behind their own actions and silence. You looked terrified. Your eyes were wide, still somewhat pure. She almost felt sorry for you. You didn’t belong in a place like this. She quickly looked away and focused on finishing up her tray of bland food, but a sudden slam brought her out of her zone.

You were on the floor with a large man standing over you, trembling with dilated pupils, almost as if you were a fawn being hunted down. The man was yelling at you. Vi didn’t know what exactly you could’ve done to illicit being pushed to the ground and screamed at, but the little empathy buried deep within her that had no place for Stillwater came out. 

She didn’t know what she was doing, but suddenly Vi was on her heel and decking out the asshole who had the audacity to hurt you. He stumbled back and collapsed onto the floor, but all she could focus on was you. 

Your eyes were watery with tears and you were trembling like a leaf. You looked up at Vi and took her in. You’d seen her around the floor your cell was on, she was notorious for beating up even the strongest men in Stillwater. She had tattoos littering her skin and a nose piercing that had a glint to it when the stale prison lights hit it at the right angle. Vi, however, wasn’t famous for being so callous and cold. Sure, she was at times, but you’d overhear her cracking some idiot joke from time to time. She was able to be whoever she wanted to be, act however she wanted because she had fists to back it. In contrast, if you ever wanted to act so carelessly like she did, you’d have to be able to throw the punches she can offer. Obviously, you can’t.

When Vi offered you a bandaged hand that day, things changed for you. It was like an unspoken agreement that you belonged to her and only her. Nobody touched you from that point forward, and if they tried, they’d end up in some Piltie prison hospital. However, you weren’t getting free protection for nothing. You had to act like Vi’s bitch, and that was quite easy because you did like Vi.

In the mornings, you always rushed to finish breakfast so that you could meet with Vi in her cell, feeling her soft kisses burn into your skin. You sat with her at lunch and followed her around like a loyal puppy. If she requested something, it was hers. In return, you were hers. Hers to love on when she was lonely, to protect from everyone, to save. 

Vi wasn’t the guard’s favorite prisoner in Stillwater, she had power over them because of the fact that the other prisoners were so easily controlled by her. They could use that in their favor. Vi never wanted you to stay behind bars, as much as she’d miss you. She wanted better for you. So, she struck a deal with guards. She would have to do anything they asked of her and you were free to go. 

When you found out, you immediately rushed to Vi’s cell and cried into her arms. She only held you, trying to memorize every single piece of you she could in case she didn’t get to ever see you again. She promised you that she’d look for you when she got out. She made you promise that you wouldn’t end up in Stillwater again. She convinced the guards that night to let you sleep in her cell for the night and she held you one last time before you got your much deserved second chance.

[gallivantingheart]

big scary girlfriend privileges

who?: jeonghan x (f)reader

word count: 925

genre/s: fluff, humour, idol!au

warnings: none!

synopsis: your darling boyfriend has just finished another late dance practice and has a found a leech attached to him

When you catch a young woman fawning all over your boyfriend on the way out of practice, you swear you could see red. The hands clutching snacks and a few odds and ends fisted tightly and you ground your teeth together. He looked a little perturbed from the uncomfortable twist to his pretty lips as he gently untangled her from his side. Her hair is long, dark and silky, seeming to dance with a life of its own. She reminded you of a siren, the thought making your stomach churn. Chan happens to walk out next, fringe plastered to his forehead from sweat. His young face lights up at the sight of you, even more so at the bags you carry. Moving around the initial pair he dashes over.

“Y/n! Did you bring snacks?” He embraces you tightly, kissing your cheek politely.

You can still see his eyes darting through the bags you twist behind you. As much as you smile, you’re looking mostly over his shoulder as the girl rolls her eyes and swats the passive rejection off, entwining herself even tighter around him. Her laugh is airy and dismissive as she chatters. He still hasn’t seen you yet somehow, even with Chan’s announcement.

“Yes, but wait for the others. It’s for everyone.” You chose the younger member, nudging him with your shoulder. “Actually, who is that?”

He turns back, still hugging you. The motion tugs you along with him and you see it all even clearer. Chan scowls, a rare expression on his well-humoured face.

“Soojung. She’s one of the marketing department’s nieces. Her uncle is head of the department, so she pretty much gets to do as she pleases. Darling of the board, so to say. She won’t leave Jeonghan-hyung alone.”

“Channie, introduce me, won’t you?” You say, oddly sweet, even for you.

He hums with worry, but by now some more members have trickled out, including Joshua, Jeonghan’s partner in crime - and therefore, yours as well. He reads the room well, passing sight between yourself and the little push and pull a ways away. Passing the bags to Chan, he tucks you under his arm, against his radiating heat.

“Y/n!” He says with a feline beam, kissing your other cheek. “Come on, let’s go see your Hannie.”

You grin up at Joshua knowingly. “Okay!”

“Hyung, look who came to surprise us! It’s Y/n!” He says the moment you end up at their side.

Jeonghan turns, the furrow to his brow softening on sight. His free hand hovers from his hip towards you and you watch Soojung’s delicate features scrunch in displeasure.

“Hey, baby.” You chirp. “Did practice just finish, guys? Or…”

“All done for the day. It’s so nice to see you.” He seems to catch the glint in your eyes, because Hannie turns to bring Soojung in on the plot. “Oh, Soojung. This is Y/n, my girlfriend. Y/n, this is Soojung - her uncle is one of the heads of department here at the company.”

Your syrup sweet smile stays as you hold your hand out to shake hers. “Soojung! So nice to meet you. The boys are just the sweetest, aren’t they? So polite - even when they shouldn’t have to be.”

Joshua’s arm stills around your shoulders at the drop in your tone. Soojung slithers always from Han to shake your hand in reply.

“I - yeah. Super nice.” She mumbles, eyes dancing between all of you. “I-I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Jeong.”

He frowns at her, ready to refute the claim. You jump the mark though, still gripping her hand awkwardly.

“Oh, the company likes to keep it all under wraps. Very private you see. But we make it work. And we’re very loyal to one another.”

She finally manages to pull her hand away so you slink your arms around Jeonghan’s waist, resting your hip against his in a very tacky show of dominance. You were often open with skinship, but not so possessively. Soojung sweeps her long hair over her shoulder and checks the time.

“Right. Well I, uh gotta go - I’ve just remembered that I’ve got that dinner with some uni friends. Bye-bye!”

She hastily weaves through the congregation in the hallway with a vague wave.

“Lovely to meet you Soojung! See you later!” You sing back, sickly saccharine.

Jeonghan’s hand resting at your waist pinches you and you yelp in shock. He soothes quickly afterwards but the point has been made.

“That’s enough, baby. You’ve made your point. Very scary by the way.” Jeonghan says, empty of venom - if anything, it’s soft and teasing.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? I can be scary.” You mock pout.

He rolls his eyes while in the background most of the other members are swarming the goodies you’d brought - and by extension poor Chan.

“Oh very. You know she’s got nothing on you, right?” He murmurs warmly.

You roll your eyes. “Of course I do. Still, sometimes lines need to be drawn. Babe, it’s called boundaries. And if you can’t make them, I can do it for you - don’t be afraid to ask for help. Big Scary Girlfriend Privileges!”

He throws his head back to laugh that sweet squeaky rasp of his that sets your heart a flutter, grinning from ear to ear and squeezing you tight in a half spin.

“Of course. C’mon big scary girlfriend, let’s go scare the members into saving the best for us.”

“It’s called a Courtesy Snack Tax, Hannie. See, I have a name for everything!”