#but i still can't find any of the *feelings* about it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

paxtito · 3 days ago

Text

fire and the thud.

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 7683

warnings: smut, 18+. knives, grave digging, swearing, wednesday almost kills someone, fingering, kissing, lesbian sex (all characters are 18+)

summary: your mother, larissa, was good friends with morticia back in their days at nevermore. when you and wednesday were born, you were practically attached to the hip. but, your father wanted you to live with him for a while, leaving you and wednesday without contact until now. you’d come back from visiting your father in england to find that wednesday had been enrolled at nevermore.

a/n: this fanfic has really been through some shit, changed the title and outcome so many times but i’ve finally settled on this. apologies in advance for any errors and also the length

MASTERLIST

The heavy oak doors of Nevermore creak as you push them open, the familiar scent of old wood and faint lavender filling your senses. The school looks almost exactly the same as when you left it—high arches, dark stone corridors, the peculiar, warm-yet-foreboding atmosphere that clings to every corner. You never expected to be back so soon, certainly not so suddenly, but here you are. And it feels strange, like returning to some half-forgotten dream.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, peering around the entrance hall. Somewhere above, the great clock ticks in its steady, methodical rhythm, echoing faintly down the halls. You’re looking for your mom, the Headmistress herself, but she’s nowhere in sight just yet. You smirk a little, wondering if she’s busy welcoming another batch of outcasts to her beloved school, as she likes to call them.

Then you hear footsteps, a soft, deliberate sound against the stone floor, and look up—freezing for just a second as your gaze lands on her.

Wednesday stands there, her face as pale and expressionless as ever, eyes watching you with an intensity you remember all too well. She hasn’t changed one bit, from the dark braids draped over her shoulders to the sharp, calculating gaze that seems to see right through you. She’s grown older, of course, taller maybe, but she’s exactly as you remember.

And you’d know her anywhere. After all, you practically grew up together—your mother, Larissa, and Morticia Addams were ‘best friends’ back in their Nevermore days. Some might say the two were as different as night and day, yet there was always a bond there, something that brought them back to each other despite the odds. And that bond, somehow, extended to you and Wednesday, two kids who had little choice but to spend time together while their mothers reconnected over tea and half-whispered memories of the past.

You take a hesitant step forward, feeling a strange swirl of nostalgia and nerves rise in your chest. “Wednesday?”

She tilts her head, her dark eyes assessing you coolly. “Back from England already?” Her voice is calm, as if no time has passed at all, like she’s still the same stoic, blunt child you remember.

“Surprise,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is pounding.

There’s a moment of silence, charged with the weight of all the years you’ve been apart, and yet, something about it feels natural, like slipping back into an old habit.

“You look… different,” she says finally, her gaze sharp as ever as she sizes you up. “Taller.”

“So do you,” you reply, then add with a faint grin, “Except the taller part.”

She narrows her eyes at you in a way that only Wednesday could, but it’s almost… fond. “If I remember correctly, I was always the smarter one. Height is irrelevant.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t improved,” you shoot back, grinning. It’s strange how quickly the old rhythm returns between you both, the teasing, the barbs exchanged without any real bite. It’s as if no time has passed at all.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Your sense of humor has certainly deteriorated during your time abroad."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe I just needed to be back among the living dead to rediscover it."

She snorts softly, the sound oddly endearing coming from her usually stoic demeanor. "I suppose being back at Nevermore will do that to a person."

As you stand there trading barbs, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her. She's still as pale as ever, her dark hair braided tightly against her skull. But there's a new edge to her, a sharpness that wasn't there before. It's in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself with a quiet confidence that demands attention without saying a word.

"So," you say, breaking the silence that has fallen between you. "What have you been up to since I left? Still perfecting your taxidermy skills?"

A ghost of a smile flits across her lips. "Among other things. But some secrets are best kept buried."

You can't help but laugh at that. "Fair enough. I suppose I've got a few of my own to keep under wraps."

She tilts her head, studying you with those dark, penetrating eyes. "I'm sure you do. Though I must admit, I'm curious to hear about your adventures in the land of the living."

You shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Not much to tell, really. Just your standard boring English school life.”

She arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Somehow, I doubt that."

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, you got me. It wasn't all bad. Made some friends, learned a few things. But nothing compared to the excitement of Nevermore."

A genuine smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be a shame if you'd gone soft during your time away."

—

A few days have passed since your sudden return to Nevermore, and you're still adjusting to the odd juxtaposition of the familiar and the foreign. The school itself hasn't changed much, but you're older now, seeing it through different eyes. And then there's Wednesday, who seems to be everywhere you turn, her dark eyes following you like a specter.

It's late afternoon, and you're wandering through the grounds, trying to clear your head after a particularly dull history lecture. The air is crisp, the leaves crunching under your feet as you make your way towards an old oak tree.

As you approach, you see a figure already seated against the trunk, long legs stretched out, head bent over a book. Even from a distance, you recognize the shock of dark hair, the pale skin. Wednesday looks up as you draw near, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your approach.

"I thought I might find you here," you say, settling yourself onto the ground beside her.

She doesn't move, just continues to stare at you, her gaze unreadable. "Did you?"

You shrug, plucking a leaf from the ground and twirling it between your fingers. "Call it intuition."

She watches the leaf spin for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about that day. The day you left."

You freeze, the leaf falling forgotten to the ground. You've tried not to think about that day too much, the way it felt to leave Wednesday behind, to step into a world that didn't understand you the way she did.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your voice carefully neutral.

She nods, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I remember standing at the window of my room, watching your car disappear into the distance. I remember thinking that I wouldn't see you again."

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. "And now here I am."

She turns to look at you then, her gaze intense. "Yes, here you are. But you're different. Older. Changed."

She falls silent then, her eyes drifting back to the distant horizon. You can see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clench around the book in her lap. It's clear that whatever she's thinking, it's weighing on her.

Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady. "I know we haven't spoken much since you returned. But I want you to know that... I'm glad you're back, Y/N."

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process them. Wednesday isn't exactly known for her emotional outpourings, and hearing her say those words feels... significant. Important.

Wednesday's words hang in the air between you, weighty and profound. You can feel the sincerity behind them, the depth of emotion that she usually keeps tightly locked away. It's a side of her that few people get to see, and you feel a rush of warmth in your chest at the thought that she trusts you enough to share it with you.

"I'm glad too," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "Gladder than I ever thought I'd be."

She looks away then, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. It's a rare sight, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it.

“Cute.”

Wednesday's blush deepens at your comment, and she shoots you a sharp glare. "I am not cute," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't ever call me that again."

You hold up your hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the grin off your face. "Sorry, sorry. I meant 'formidable' or 'intimidating'. Those are much better descriptions of you, I'm sure."

She narrows her eyes at you, but there's a hint of something else in her gaze - a glimmer of amusement, perhaps, or maybe just a touch of affection. "You'd better believe it," she mutters, but there's no real bite to her words.

You settle back against the trunk of the tree, stretching your legs out in front of you. "So, what's new with you? Any exciting murder mysteries or occult rituals I should know about?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know? I'm afraid my secrets are safe with me."

"Damn," you sigh, feigning disappointment. "And here I thought we were friends."

She snorts softly, nudging you with her elbow. "We are friends, Y/N. But even friends have limits."

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the casual familiarity of the gesture. "Fair enough. I suppose I can respect that."

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, watching the play of light through the leaves overhead. It's peaceful, in a way - just the two of you, lost in your own thoughts, content in each other's presence.

Wednesday's eyes drift shut for a moment, her face tilted towards the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. There's a softness to her features that you rarely see, a vulnerability that she only shows when she thinks no one is looking.

She's always been like that - guarded, cautious, quick to put up walls to keep people out. But with you, she lets her guard down just a little. It's a privilege, really, to be trusted with this side of her.

You watch her, committing every detail to memory. The way her dark lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes in the crisp autumn air.

A breeze rustles the leaves above, and Wednesday's eyes flutter open, fixing you with a questioning gaze. "What are you looking at?" she asks, her voice low and suspicious.

You shake your head, grinning. "Nothing. Just enjoying the scenery."

She narrows her eyes, but there's no real anger behind it. "You're strange, Y/N. You always have been."

"And you love it," you tease, nudging her back with your shoulder.

She doesn't deny it, just shrugs and turns her attention back to the book in her lap. But you can see the hint of a smile on her lips, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction.

It's in moments like these that you realize just how much you've missed her, how much a part of your life she's always been. And as you sit there, side by side beneath the old oak tree, you can't help but feel a sense of rightness, of belonging.

Whatever the future holds, whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that you'll face them together. You and Wednesday, the odd couple, the misfits, the outcasts. Together, you can weather any storm.

“Remember our little grave digging rendezvous? There’s an abandoned graveyard in the woods… Could pay it a visit tonight.”

Wednesday's head snaps up at your suggestion, her dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purrs, her voice low and conspiratorial.

You can't help but grin at her enthusiastic response. "Thought you might be too busy with your taxidermy collection to spare a night for some good old-fashioned grave robbing."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a glint of amusement in her gaze. "Please. Taxidermy is a hobby, grave robbing is a lifestyle."

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Of course it is. I don't know why I even asked."

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Meet me at midnight by the old stone wall. Don't be late."

—

The sun has long since set by the time you make your way to the rendezvous point, the old stone wall looming ominously in the darkness. You can feel the chill in the air, the way it seeps into your bones and makes your breath mist in the night. It's the perfect weather for a little grave robbing, you muse to yourself, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

As you approach the wall, you see a familiar figure waiting for you in the shadows. Wednesday is leaning against the stone, her dark hair a stark contrast against the gray of the wall. She's wearing all black, as usual, her pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Right on time," she says as you draw near, her voice low and teasing. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Please. Like that would ever happen."

She pushes off the wall, falling into step beside you as you make your way towards the woods.

The forest looms ahead, an impenetrable wall of darkness that seems to swallow the moonlight whole. Wednesday leads the way, her steps sure and confident even in the pitch black. You follow close behind, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As you venture deeper into the woods, the air grows colder, damper. The trees seem to press in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. You can feel the weight of the forest, the way it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

After what feels like an eternity, you break through the treeline and into a small clearing. Before you lies the graveyard, a jumble of crumbling headstones and weathered crypts. The place has an eerie stillness to it, as if the very air is holding its breath.

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes glinting with a manic light. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise," she says, gesturing grandly at the graveyard.

You stare at the graveyard, your heart racing. The crumbling headstones and weathered crypts seem to loom menacingly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the overgrown grass. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your unease, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveys the graveyard. "Isn't it beautiful?" she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "All this history, all these stories, just waiting to be uncovered."

You swallow hard, trying to muster up some of her enthusiasm. "Sure," you manage, your voice coming out a little higher pitched than you intended. "Beautiful."

Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, Y/N. Where's your sense of adventure? This is what we've always dreamed of, isn't it? A chance to get our hands dirty, to delve into the unknown?"

You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "You speak like a poet."

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Poetry is for the weak. I prefer the prose of the macabre."

She strides forward, her boots crunching on the dead leaves littering the ground. You hurry to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as you weave between the headstones. Some are little more than crumbled ruins, the names and dates long since eroded away. Others stand tall and proud, their epitaphs still legible in the moonlight.

As you make your way deeper into the graveyard, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you whirl around, half expecting to see some ghostly figure lurking in the shadows. But there's nothing there, just the endless rows of graves stretching out before you.

Wednesday, meanwhile, seems completely at ease. She moves through the graveyard like a cat, her steps silent and sure. Every so often, she pauses to examine a particularly interesting headstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters as if trying to read the secrets of the dead.

"Look at this one," she says, gesturing to a large, ornate tomb. "Elias Crane, died 1847. Apparently, he was a wealthy businessman. But rumor has it, he made his fortune through less than savory means."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Such as?"

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Grave robbing. Body snatching. All the things respectable society frowns upon."

You can't help but grin at that. "Sounds like our kind of guy."

Wednesday nods, a wicked glint in her eye. "Exactly. I bet he's got some fascinating stories buried with him."

You put your backpack down, pulling out a plastic spade, one that is obviously meant for kids at the beach.

Wednesday's eyes widen as you pull out the child's spade, a mix of amusement and disappointment crossing her face. "Really, Y/N? A plastic shovel? I was expecting something a bit more... professional."

She reaches into her own bag, pulling out a sleek, black shovel that looks like it could double as a weapon. "This is how you do grave robbing.”

She strides over to the nearest grave, kneeling down beside the headstone. You hurry to follow, your plastic spade feeling woefully inadequate in comparison.

"Alright, let's see what secrets Mr. Crane is hiding," Wednesday murmurs, plunging her shovel into the soft earth.

You do the same, your spade making a hollow 'thunk' as it hits the ground. Wednesday shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“My shovel is cuter.”

Wednesday snorts, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Cuter? Really? We're going for aesthetics over functionality here?"

She shakes her head, but there's no real annoyance in her voice. If anything, she seems even more excited by the challenge.

"Alright then, Y/N. Let's see what you can do with that adorable little spade of yours."

With that, she plunges her own shovel into the ground, the blade slicing through the earth with a satisfying thud. You follow suit, your plastic spade making a far less impressive noise as it scrapes against the dirt.

For a while, the only sound is the steady rhythm of shoveling, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. Wednesday moves with a practiced ease, her movements efficient and precise. You, on the other hand, quickly find yourself winded, your arms burning with the unfamiliar exertion.

"Come on, Y/N," Wednesday calls over her shoulder, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Put some muscle into it. We're not here to dig a hole for a potted plant."

You grit your teeth, redoubling your efforts. Slowly, painfully, the hole begins to take shape, the walls of the grave yawning open like a hungry mouth.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Wednesday, marveling at the way she seems so completely in her element. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight, and there's a fierce determination in her eyes that takes your breath away.

"Watch it!" Wednesday yells suddenly, and you jerk back just in time to avoid smacking your shovel against hers. You stare down into the hole, which is now deep enough for you to stand in. The wooden coffin lies below, its surface covered in a layer of dirt and debris.

Wednesday tosses her shovel aside, dropping to her knees beside the grave. She runs her hands over the coffin, tracing the intricate carvings that adorn its surface.

Wednesday's eyes shine with excitement as she runs her hands over the ancient wood, tracing the intricate carvings etched into its surface. The coffin is clearly old, the once-polished finish now dulled by centuries of exposure to the elements.

"Look at this craftsmanship," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "They just don't make them like this anymore."

You peer into the grave, your heart hammering in your chest. The idea of what lies inside the coffin is both thrilling and terrifying, a reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your apprehension, her attention focused solely on the task at hand. She pulls a small crowbar from her bag, wedging it between the lid of the coffin and its frame. With a grunt of effort, she pries the lid open, the ancient wood groaning in protest.

The smell that wafts up from the coffin is overwhelming - the cloying scent of decay, of earth and rot. You gag, stepping back from the edge of the grave. But Wednesday seems unaffected, leaning forward to peer inside.

"Well, well," she breathes, a note of excitement in her voice. "Looks like our friend Elias is still with us."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look into the coffin. The body inside is little more than a skeleton, clad in the tattered remains of a funeral suit. The flesh has long since rotted away, leaving only bones and a few scraps of leathery skin.

Wednesday reaches into the coffin, her slender fingers brushing against the yellowed bones. She lifts out a human femur, examining it with a critical eye.

"Fascinating," she murmurs, turning the bone over in her hands. "Look at the way the marrow cavity has collapsed. That suggests a prolonged period of exposure to the elements."

She carefully places the bone back inside the coffin, her expression thoughtful.

You just blink, unsure of what to do now. “Well, that was exhilarating.” You mutter, sarcasm etched in your tone.

The moonlight filters through the trees, casting an eerie glow over the graveyard. Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "What's the matter, Y/N? Not quite the thrill you were hoping for?"

You can't help but smirk back at her, despite the unsettling nature of your surroundings. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for the macabre after all."

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who suggested this little adventure in the first place."

You shrug, trying to project a nonchalance you don't quite feel. "I may have gotten carried away. But hey, at least we found something interesting, right?"

Wednesday's gaze lingers on you, her expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. Though I'm not sure what we're going to do with Elias now."

You glance back at the open coffin, a shiver running down your spine. "Maybe we should put him back? Seems only right, considering we disturbed his rest."

Wednesday nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of a vengeful spirit."

Together, you carefully lower the coffin lid, sealing Elias back in his eternal slumber. As you brush the dirt back over the grave, you can't help but feel a sense of relief, a sudden desire to leave this place behind.

But as you turn to go, you find yourself face to face with Wednesday, her eyes wide and searching in the moonlight. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you crackling with tension.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I've been wanting to say..."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You know what's coming, have known for a long time, but hearing her say it out loud is still a shock.

Before you can utter a response, Wednesday closes the distance between you, her cool fingers curling around the back of your neck. She pulls you closer, her eyes locked on yours, a swirling vortex of emotions - longing, desire, and a hint of vulnerability.

Her lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence and passion. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her waist, pulling her flush against you. The world falls away, the graveyard and the dead forgotten as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her.

Wednesday's lips are cool and sweet against yours, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of your mouth. You part your lips, granting her access, and she takes full advantage, deepening the kiss with a low moan. Your tongues dance and twine, a sensual battle for dominance that leaves you both breathless.

When she finally pulls back, you're both panting, your hearts racing in sync. Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She rests her forehead against yours, her voice husky and low.

"I've wanted to do that for so long, Y/N. I hope I didn't misread the signs."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tangling in her silky hair. "Not at all. I've been waiting for this too."

You and Wednesday are still caught up in the afterglow of your first kiss, your bodies pressed close, when a sudden noise shatters the silence of the graveyard. It's a rustling sound, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot, and it's coming from the direction of the woods.

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. "Did you hear that?" she whispers, her voice tense with suspicion.

You nod, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. "It sounded like it came from over there."

Wednesday reaches into her bag, pulling out a small, wicked-looking knife. She hands it to you, her grip tight and urgent. "Just in case."

You take the knife, your fingers closing around the smooth handle. The blade gleams in the moonlight, its edge honed to a razor's sharpness.

Together, you creep towards the source of the noise, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of dead leaves. As you draw closer to the woods, you can hear the sound more clearly now - a low, guttural moan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.

Wednesday holds up a hand, signaling for you to stop. She points to a shadowy figure, hunched over just beyond the edge of the trees. The figure is swaying slightly, as if drunk or disoriented, and you can see the glint of a bottle in its hand.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a drunk," Wednesday murmurs, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Probably some vagrant who thought he'd find shelter in the woods."

You're about to suggest leaving the man be when he suddenly staggers forward, his eyes wide and wild as they lock onto yours. He lets out a low, animalistic growl, raising the bottle like a weapon.

"Hey, man, some of us are trying to sleep here!" he slurs, taking a stumbling step towards you. "Why don't you and your little girlfriend fuck off?"

Before you can react, Wednesday lurches forward, her hand outstretched. She aims the knife at the man's throat, her eyes narrowed.

The drunk man's eyes widen in fear as he sees the knife, his bravado evaporating like mist in the moonlight. He stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

You move forward, your hand gripping over Wednesday’s, stopping her from going too far. “No.”

Wednesday hesitates, her grip on the knife faltering. She looks at you, confusion and frustration warring in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she hisses, her voice low and urgent. "We can't just let him get away. Who knows what he might do?"

The drunk man stumbles further back, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday. "Hey, look, I don't want any trouble, alright?" he says, his voice shaking. "I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, that's all. I didn't mean no harm."

Wednesday scoffs, her grip tightening on the knife once more. "Oh, and I suppose disturbing our private moment is no harm done? I don't think so."

The man's eyes widen in panic as he realizes the precariousness of his situation. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, the bottle still clutched in one trembling fist.

"Please, I'm sorry, I'll go, I won't bother you again, just please don't hurt me," he babbles, his words slurring together in his haste.

Wednesday's jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing to slits. She takes a step forward, the knife glinting in the moonlight.

"You should have thought of that before you interrupted us," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom.

The man's eyes dart to you, pleading for help, for mercy. You can see the terror in his gaze, the knowledge that he is completely at the mercy of these two strange girls.

“Goddamn it, Wednesday. Stop it.”

Wednesday's grip on the knife loosens slightly at your command, but she doesn't lower it. Her eyes are still fixed on the drunk man, her expression a mix of anger and contempt.

"Why should we stop?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "He's just some pathetic vagrant. No one will miss him."

The man's eyes widen in fear, his body trembling as he backs away from you both. "Please," he whimpers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want any trouble. I'll leave, I swear."

You step forward, gently placing a hand on Wednesday's arm. The touch is light, but the gesture is clear - a plea for her to stand down, to show mercy.

Wednesday's eyes flick to you, surprise and confusion written across her face. She's so focused on the drunk man that she hadn't expected your intervention.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "This man needs to be taught a lesson."

The drunk man takes another stumbling step backwards, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday in terror. He's clearly aware of the precariousness of his situation, the thin line between life and death that he's currently balancing on.

For a moment, Wednesday seems torn, her gaze flickering between you and the drunk man. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her darker impulses and the bond she shares with you.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Wednesday lowers the knife. She lets out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," she says, her voice tight. "But if he steps out of line again, he's fair game."

The drunk man lets out a shaky sigh of relief, his body sagging with the realization that he's been spared. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll go, I promise. Just please, no more trouble."

He turns and staggers off into the woods, his footsteps crunching on the dead leaves. You watch him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

You can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, a nervous energy buzzing through your veins. "Where did you even get that knife, Wednesday? I didn't realize you were packing heat on our little graveyard rendezvous."

Wednesday's lips quirk into a wry smile, her eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight. "Always be prepared, Y/N. You never know when you might need a little... protection." She tucks the knife back into her bag with practiced ease, her movements fluid and graceful.

You shake your head, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your voice. "I swear, sometimes I think you're just looking for an excuse to use that thing. What would your parents say if they knew?"

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Please. They'd probably be proud. 'Our little girl, all grown up and ready to defend herself.' Besides, it's not like we actually used it."

You can't argue with that logic, even as a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what might have happened if you hadn't intervened. "True enough. But maybe next time, let's stick to less... lethal forms of self-defense, hmm?"

Wednesday shrugs, her expression unrepentant. "Can't make any promises. But I'll try to keep my bloodlust in check, for your sake."

Despite the morbid humor of the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for Wednesday. Her dark sense of humor, her fierce protectiveness, her willingness to embrace the macabre - it's all part of what draws you to her.

You step closer to her, your hand finding hers in the darkness. "Come on," you murmur, tugging her gently towards the edge of the graveyard. "Let's get out of here before anyone else decides to crash our party."

—

The heavy door of the dorm room creaks open, revealing the dimly lit space within. Wednesday stumbles inside, pulling you along with her. Her lips never leave yours as she kicks the door shut behind you, her hands roaming eagerly over your body.

You're lost in the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth on yours, the press of her body against yours. It's only when you feel the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees that you break the kiss, gasping for air.

Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from your passionate embrace. She tugs at your shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons in her haste to get it off.

"Wednesday, wait," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "Are you sure about this?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours in the dim light. There's a flicker of uncertainty in their depths, a moment of hesitation. But then she's pressing against you again, her mouth finding yours once more.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she murmurs against your lips. "I want you, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

You surrender to the moment, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. Clothes are shed in a flurry of fabric, landing haphazardly on the floor as you tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated skin.

A soft groan, followed by the rustle of sheets, startles you both out of your passionate haze.

"W-Wednesday?" a sleepy voice mumbles. "Is that you?"

Wednesday's eyes widen in horror, her face flushing crimson as she realizes the mistake she's made, scrambling to cover herself with the nearest piece of clothing.

“Oh, hey, Enid.” You smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Enid sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She blinks a few times, her gaze adjusting to the dim light. When she focuses on you and Wednesday, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, um, hi," she stammers, her cheeks flushing pink. "I didn't realize you two were... I mean, I thought..."

There's an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Wednesday's heavy breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

Enid clears her throat, pulling the blanket up higher around her shoulders. "So, uh, are you two going to...?" She trails off, her eyes widening as she realizes the implications of her question.

Wednesday's face is beet red, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "No!" she blurts out, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. "We weren't going to... I mean, we weren't..."

Enid's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in shock. "Wednesday, are you... are you blushing?"

Wednesday scowls, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I am not blushing," she snaps, her voice tight with embarrassment. "I just... I didn't expect you to be awake at this hour."

Enid blinks, her expression softening. "It's okay, Wednesday. I'm not judging. I'm happy for you, really." She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I always knew you had a thing for Y/N."

—

Since that night in the dorm room, things had been undeniably awkward between you and Wednesday. The air was thick with unresolved tension, the memory of passionate kisses and wandering hands lingering like a ghost in the room. You couldn't look at her without feeling a flush creep up your neck, your heart racing at the slightest brush of her fingers against yours.

Even Enid seemed to notice the change in your dynamic, her knowing smiles and raised eyebrows a constant reminder of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. You tried to focus on your classes, to push aside the distracting thoughts of Wednesday's lips on yours, but it was a losing battle.

As you walked down the hallway towards your next class, your mind was miles away, replaying the events of that fateful night. Wednesday's touch, her breathless moans, the way her body had felt pressed against yours...

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your wrist, yanking you roughly into a nearby janitor's closet. The door slammed shut behind you, plunging you into darkness. You stumbled, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggled to make out the silhouette of your attacker.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me to focus on anything since that night?" a familiar voice growled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing Wednesday's face, etched with a mixture of frustration and desire. She stepped closer, her body mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your cheek.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is your face, feel your touch..."

Her hands slid up your arms, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer. "Tell me you feel it too," she breathed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

You feel Wednesday's breath on your ear, her words sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The suddenness of her actions catches you off guard, but the desire in her voice is undeniable.

"I... I do," you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you too, Wednesday. Nonstop."

Wednesday's hands slide down your sides, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She presses you back against the wall, her body molding to yours in a way that makes your head spin.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she demands, her voice a low growl. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I wasn't... I mean, I didn't think..."

Wednesday cuts you off with a searing kiss, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. You melt into her, your hands tangling in her hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard, your chests heaving against each other. "I can't wait anymore," Wednesday pants, her eyes wild with need. "I need you, Y/N. Right here, right now."

Your mind races, the implications of her words sinking in. You're not in your dorm room, where you can take your time, explore each other at a leisurely pace. You're in a janitor's closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies and the faint scent of bleach.

But the desire in Wednesday's eyes, the way her body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight. Your hands slide down to her waist, your fingers digging into her hips as you pull her closer.

"We shouldn't..." you start, even as your body betrays you, arching into her touch.

Wednesday silences you with another kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth as her hands roam over your body with a desperate urgency. "Don't think," she breathes against your lips. "Just feel."

Wednesday's hands slide under your shirt, her fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You gasp, your back arching off the wall as she trails her touch higher, brushing against the soft swell of your breasts.

"Wednesday," you moan, your voice breathy with need. "We can't... not here..."

But even as the words leave your lips, you're arching into her touch, your body betraying your true desires. Wednesday's mouth finds your neck, her teeth grazing against your pulse point as she sucks and nips at the sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation. Wednesday's hands are everywhere, sliding under your clothes, mapping the curves of your body with a desperate hunger.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. With a sudden burst of strength, you reverse your positions, pinning Wednesday against the wall with your body. She lets out a surprised gasp, her eyes widening as she looks up at you with a mix of shock and desire.

"My turn," you murmur, your voice low and commanding. Your hands slide under her shirt, your fingers skimming over the smooth expanse of her stomach. Wednesday shivers, her skin breaking out in goosebumps under your touch.

You lean in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Wednesday moans into your mouth, her hands fisting in your hair as she pulls you closer. Your tongues tangle together, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

Your hands continue their exploration, sliding up to cup Wednesday's breasts through her bra. She arches into your touch, her nipples hardening under your palms. You break the kiss, trailing your lips down her neck, your teeth grazing against her pulse point.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with need. "Please," she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Touch me, Y/N. I need you."

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra, undoing it with a deft flick. The garment falls away, exposing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You lower your head, your tongue swirling around one hardened peak.

Wednesday cries out, her back arching off the wall as you lavish attention on her breasts. Your hands slide down her body, tugging at the waistband of her skirt.

With a swift movement, you yank the garment down, leaving Wednesday in nothing but her panties. She steps out of the pool of fabric, her legs trembling with anticipation.

Your hands slide up her thighs, your fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tug them down, revealing her most intimate parts to your eager gaze.

Wednesday is bare before you, her body laid out like a feast for the taking. You take a moment to admire her, your eyes drinking in every feature.

Wednesday's breath hitches as you drink in the sight of her, her body quivering under your appraising gaze. The air between you is electric, charged with a heady mix of desire and anticipation.

You step closer, your body pressing against hers in a delicious friction that sends sparks racing through your veins. Wednesday's hands come up to rest on your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin as she anchors herself to you.

"Please," she breathes, her voice a desperate whimper. "I need you, Y/N. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long."

Your hand slides between her legs, your fingers brushing against the slick heat of her core. Wednesday gasps, her hips bucking forward, seeking more of your touch. You tease her, your fingers dipping just barely inside before retreating, driving her wild with need.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your fingers tease her most sensitive spots. Her hips grind against your hand, seeking more of your touch, more of the delicious friction that's building inside her.

You can feel the heat of her, the slickness coating your fingers as you work her higher and higher. Wednesday's head thrashes from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut as she loses herself in the pleasure.

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Y/N, don't stop."

Your fingers plunge deeper, curling inside her in a way that makes her see stars. Wednesday's back arches off the wall, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides the wave of sensation.

You can feel her tightening around your fingers, her body tensing as she nears the edge. You double your efforts, your thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Wednesday's cry echoes off the walls of the small closet, her body shaking as the orgasm crashes over her. She clings to you, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin as she rides out the waves of pleasure.

You hold her through it, your hand gentle as you help her down from the high. When she finally stills, you pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. You lick them clean, savoring the taste of her on your tongue.

The taste of Wednesday on your fingers is exquisite, a heady mix of sweet and salty that makes your head spin. You savor it for a long moment, your eyes locked with hers as you lick them clean.

Wednesday's body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm when you pull your fingers from her slick heat. The taste of her essence lingers on your tongue, a tantalizing reminder of what you've just shared.

You meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. "I should get going," you murmur, regret tinging your voice. "I don't want to be late for class."

Wednesday nods, her breath still coming in short, sharp gasps. She reaches out, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you in for one last, searing kiss.

"Until next time," she whispers against your lips, her voice a promise of things to come.

—

#wednesday addams #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader smut #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #fanfiction #jenna ortega #x reader #enid sinclair #wednesday addams x fem!reader

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strwberri-milk · 3 days ago

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Hello! Can I request an angst Sylus x reader ff where the princess reader and Prince Sylus are in an arranged marriage and he really hates her also because of the rumors her fake friend made. The reader is cold on the outside but a very loving and sweet inside. During their 1 ½ year as a married couple, Sylus didn't acknowledged her as his wife but she does as her husband. One day, tables turned....Sorry for my English 😭

urgh i think you're wanting a fic from this which if i were to do this it would hoenstly end up being 5k</a long fic for which i aim 40k words for minimum and i mean this with all the kindness of my heart - i do not have the energy to do that for free so i hope youre okay w the typical hc style im doing!! also i changed some of it bc i dont see sylus making judgements of people based off what hes told

Sylus had long given up on the idea of doing things for himself wholly. He didn't have the ability to do things for just himself, selfishness the last thing on his mind with the status he owns. That's why he didn't object too much to being married - even if it was to someone he doesn't know.

Your first meeting was all business. He didn't mind at all but everybody in the room could feel the temperature drop by a few degrees. The two of you set out the terms of the marriage cleanly, coming to an agreement in very little time. To him it seemed that the two of you are on the same page, making things that much easier.

To respect your boundaries the two of you sleep in separate rooms. He's always busy, going off to meetings or sitting in his office reviewing the immense stacks of paperwork he has. Despite that, you try your best to find ways to include yourself in his schedule.

The servants always make room for you when you pass by, allowing you to go as you please while whispering about what might happen if they didn't. You pay it no mind, knowing that you've always been seen as intimidating. All it did was secure you a perfect match in Sylus, so you couldn't really mind. You learned quickly what his daily schedule looked like, finding the smallest gaps to insert yourself simply by delivering refreshments or news that other staff begged you not to do as it was below your station.

Sylus was a little surprised at first but he took it well, greeting you politely and thanking you whenever you came in. He understood it as you trying to keep appearances with your marriage, despite it being very clear to everybody involved everything was just for politics. He allows you your vice, sometimes even making small conversations with you. He didn't think you had any ulterior motive with how brief and impersonal the visits were.

He learned later that you began baking the pastries for him through the grapevine. You didn't tell him yourself, worried that he'd think you were trying to buy his affection while all you really wanted was just a way to be closer to him without intruding. He thanks you by buying a new set of clothes for you, a short, yet sweet note of him thanking you for thinking of him.

He doesn't seek you out still, not until he hears you've come down with a terrible illness that the physicians can't quite place. Thankfully it doesn't seem to be fatal, just incapacitating. By now the staff have begun to warm up around you, quietly speaking amongst themselves about how much you miss being able to see Sylus . You've admitted that you know Sylus doesn't see you as his spouse but you think of him as your dear husband, even if your relationship is slightly more than that of acquaintances.

He comes to visit you, sitting by your bed and just. Talking. He doesn't address the fact that you're sick - you've heard it too many times at this point - and just tells you about his day. Asks you about yours, what you want to do next week and if you'd be wanting to spend some time with him. The way your eyes light up makes him regret not reaching out to you sooner but he has a feeling he's got more than enough time to make it up to you.

#love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #lads sylus x reader #lnds sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus x reader

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theminecraftbee · 2 days ago

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because it amused my friends but is also a useful metaphor, i'm going to tell a story now: so there was this one time i punched my dentist.

i have never done something like that before or since. i was getting a filling, see, very routine. (side note: i quite liked that dentist; he has since retired but he's always been not exactly "nice" but not mean about things like this. had a specific manner that worked well with my anxiety.) the dentist numbed the nerve that went to that part of my jaw and got stuff to start on the work.

what neither he nor i knew was this: i was actually in the small percentage of people that actually needed a SECOND nerve numbed to fully numb that part of my face. so when he started trying to do the "drill the cavity and give the filling" part, i started to feel pain. now, he'd warned me ahead of time this was a possibility! there was a thing i was supposed to do if that happened!

what actually happened is that my brain went: "I NEED TO MAKE THIS STOP I'M GONNA PUNCH THIS GUY".

i then immediately burst into tears.

luckily my dentist is a dentist and has had people fight-or-flight far more spectacularly and also far more effectively given that i don't know how to hit people. i managed to do exactly jack shit and he was bemused afterwards.

the thing is: this was not a sensible response to the situation! the dentist still had both a drill and a needle! i was way more likely to hurt myself than the dentist! my brain did not care. i was experiencing an adrenaline response, my brain felt helpless in the face of the pain to flight, so fight it was.

anyway, that's the emotion i am currently experiencing. i do not have the capacity to flight. so goddamn is my brain trying to find a good way to punch the problem.

this isn't a BAD impulse--hitting the dentist DID make him remove the drill from my mouth--but it's an impulse more likely to hurt me than help me unless i take a moment to go "maybe i SHOULDN'T punch the guy holding sharp objects right at my face", because it's not a rational brain response, it's a pure instinctive response. and it's an indicator i'm in fight-or-flight and should do everything in my power to avoid making any decisions that can't be undone, be those decisions "impulsively buy a bunch of tea" or far more severe.

my brain is currently trying to punch the dentist, and by the dentist i mean the election. i am not trustworthy.

but what i CAN do is this: i am going to volunteer at my local homeless shelters. this is an action i can channel my desire to punch the problem into that will help someone. look up your local volunteer organizations. organize into action. and do something that's more like "inform the dentist in the way you planned ahead of time that you're hurting" than "punch him and nearly get your eye poked out", you know?

and we will continue.

#uspol #thought this might help people other than my friends in discord and is also a bit lighter-hearted so here

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kitzenvoncatzen · 23 hours ago

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It was very obviously not meant to be a shrine. It just happened to be mostly symmetrical and with an offering of one Chicken Strip Combo Meal from the chicken place.

I should describe the actual requirements for the shrine that I made.

It needs 2 crystals, one on either side of the offering, and a collection of glass pillars behind the offering, and a bunch of other tiny less important things that I happened to have a bunch of. Like bottle caps and wrappers that just happened to fit the requirements.

I was sitting down at my computer with a good meal I just bought with my own money and I was about to watch the newest episode of the stupid game show.

The rest of my floor isn't actually better than the table that only had room for the "offering".

The "crystals" were literally just rocks that I thought looked cool and stole them because I like having rocks for some reason. They apparently have crystals inside of them. Both of them. The glass pillars are empty soda bottles. (I like glass bottled soda a lot more.)

There are other gods that might answer to their own offering rituals, but this one was the only one that would actually answer to a Chicken Strip Combo Meal. The rest want much more to actually be contacted.

I'm a full 5 minutes into the show before I actually reach for my food. Which is gone.

I look around and immediately find some guy in full bright face paint and cool jagged symbols in my room, standing behind me, watching the show with me.

My first instinct is to punch him in the face. (I definitely would have recognized any of the other gods.)

It feels like hitting a rock wall.

"So I assume this wasn't intentional. About what I expected, actually." He speaks, the voice doesn't really match the figure standing before me.

"WHAT??" I shout. I look at my hand. Punching was actually a horrible idea because of the small scrape on my finger that got slightly more scraped.

"I can explain more later but right now I need your help. There are some things only mortals can do." He grabs my arm, and light surrounds us. A similar thing happens when other gods return to wherever they come from, but I was experiencing it from inside, in person, and it was slightly different. I couldn't tell if that's just how it is when you're inside it, or if the shade of the light was actually slightly different to the videos I've seen, but it seemed a bit weird compared to them.

"WHAT? WHERE ARE WE?" I shout again. He immediately covers my mouth with his equally cold, stony hands. (Which isn't actually as good at muffling speech as flesh is. I think. I can't bite through it like flesh though.)

"Gods fight all the time, but only mortals can actually kill gods." He whispers. The trees around us are completely still, and even the strong wind does not move a single leaf on them. They all appear to be made of some kind of stone, like he was.

"What does this have to do with me?" I whisper, still muffled by the hand. I had already accepted my most likely fate, death, which is usually the fate of people who get this involved with the gods without any good preparation. "No, wait, you're not saying..."

"I need you to kill a god."

[ Yeah

I did another one.

It's been a while. ]

{Check out my other things at this site please I need feedback.}

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing

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felixknow · 2 days ago

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Hannie's Fixation pt. 5: Finale

Hannie's 🍒 fixation | Hannie's 🦪 fixation | Hannie's fixation pt. 3 | Hannie's fixation pt. 4

general: friends to lovers, more desperate hannie, happy ending, f!reader, curvy reader implied

nsfw: boob play/fixation, oral and fingering (f!receiving), condom use, hannie doesn't last long (he's just so obsessed he can't help it)

He opens the door so quickly that you’re sure he was standing just on the other side waiting for you to knock.

“Hi,” he says on a breath, sounding relieved, almost as if he didn’t think you’d actually show up. One of his arms finds your waist as you step inside; with the other he closes and locks the door behind you.

“Hi Hanji.”

He hugs you tightly, laying his head on your shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back, unsure if this sweet moment will stay sweet or if he’ll start trying to fuck you the second your arms wrap around him.

He doesn’t, though. He just holds you for a long moment in silence, his arms locked around your body. This is more like the Hanji you’re used to. Your best friend, your Hanji, who had never shown any interest in your body until last week and lately has seemed to only like you for it. Now he’s his soft self again, wanting a cuddle and a quiet evening. For now, at least.

“I love you,” he mumbles pitifully, and you sigh softly.

“I’m not mad at you, Hanji, it just feels weird.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We should have talked about it first.” He lets go of you and stands back, his hands falling down to find yours as you release your hug on him in turn. “Do you want to talk about it now? Or after?”

“You’re such a horndog,” you scoff, rolling your eyes unseriously. “Here I thought you were about to have a serious moment with me and you’re still just set on getting in my pants.”

“You said I could! You said you’d come over and we’d fuck and then we’d talk!”

“Yeah, and you’re the one who just acknowledged that we very well should have had a conversation before we started doing anything sexual with each other.” While you talk, Han starts pulling you toward his room, and you willingly go with him, though you do make him put effort into dragging you along.

“Well a promise is a promise, y/nnie,” he insists. “And you promised I could hit at least once.”

“You say promise very liberally, Han Jisung. I don’t think I promised my pussy to you.”

His head whips around to look at you, his eyes wide and excited, his lips parted and open so you can see a peek of his teeth. You don’t even have to look down all the way to see the tent in his pants.

“That’s so fucking hot. You did, though. You promised I get your pussy. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he says excitedly, drawing you in again by your hips. He tries to lean in to kiss you, but the feeling of his boner against your crotch makes you laugh nervously and lean away from his face.

“You’re ridiculous. Not a serious bone in your body, I swear.”

“Oh, I’m serious. I’m reeeeeally serious, and this serious bone is going to get into your body.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you insist again, still trying to push against his chest to make him let go of you.

“Please, y/nnie, pleeeease.” Han makes kissy noises, still leaning in, still holding the small of your back to keep you close.

“You don’t have to beg me, you know,” you mumble, finally giving in to him and letting him kiss all across your cheek and your soft jawline.

“But I don’t know what else to say,” he says back in an equally low voice. “And I want you to know how bad I want it. I’m not just asking you ‘cause I’m horny, I’m asking you ‘cause it’s you.”

You take a second to silently process his words, and his shiny brown eyes watch you carefully. You don’t say anything, though, electing instead to lean in and kiss him properly on the lips for what you think may be the actual first time your lips have touched his.

Han’s quick to pull you backwards the rest of the way into his room. You stumble together to his bed, and he falls ungracefully backwards when the back of his knees hit the bed, and he pulls you down on top of him, letting out a very dramatic whine of protest when you try to avoid straddling him.

“Sit,” he mutters against your lips, still trying to kiss you while he talks even though it’s a little awkward and creates a weird ratio of lips to teeth to tongue.

“Thought you wanted to fuck me?” you pant into his mouth. One arm wraps around his shoulders and the other hand tangles in his hair. “Wouldn’t you rather me lying down?”

“You’re so right,” he groans, shifting you both to the side until you’re tumbling off his lap and into his soft bed. The scent of his shampoo and cologne instantly surrounds you and eases the last bit of nerves you had about this. This is your Hanji.

Han’s shaky hands make quick work of your clothes and his in a back to back pattern. His shirt, then yours, then his pants, then your bra. He can’t help himself from playing once he sees your boobs right in front of him again.

He moans as soon as his mouth closes around your nipple. Your skin is so warm and soft, and the scent of your skin fills his nose to the brim, and his eyes flutter closed and he’s never been so happy to have someone in his bed. He sucks and pinches opposite nipples, playing and indulging more for his own pleasure than for yours just like the first time he’d gotten to touch you.

When you moan and whisper his name, you break his trance and he sits back up, lips shiny with spit where his mouth hangs open like it’s still searching for your breast.

“Does that feel good for you?” he asks, almost in a daze. “I should have asked.”

“It does,” you nod, reaching up to fluff up his already messy hair. “I think ‘cause you like it so much so you’re really good at it. It feels good.”

A smile breaks his open-mouthed expression, and he gives you another quick yet searing kiss before kicking off his underwear and dragging your leggings and panties from your body in one quick motion. Once he’s gotten them off your ankle, then the other, he grips your leg firmly to hold it in place while he kisses it from the inside of your ankle all the way up to the top of your thigh. You assume that he’s going for your cunt, maybe looking for the taste of you before he fucks you, but instead he continues up, peppering kisses and spit up your soft stomach, your chestbone, and up your neck.

“Can we do it?” he whispers in your ear. “You’re sure I can?”

“Yes, Hanji,” you chuckle. “Fuck me. Let me feel you inside me.”

He moans in your ear in response, humping against your thigh like a horny dog for a second before peeling himself off of you to scurry away into his ensuite bathroom. You watch through the doorway as he opens the top drawer, pulls a whole box of condoms out, and comes running back to the bed, unattended cock bobbing as he does.

“Did you already have those or did you buy those just for this?” you ask without considering if you really want to know the answer. Once he looks up at you with his cheeks flushing red, you decide, “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Han just nods apathetically and opens the box, pulling the roll of foil packets out. He tears one off carefully, tosses the box down onto the nightstand, then hands the single condom to you.

“Will you…?”

You look up at him with wide eyes, but then nod and sit up, understanding what he wants.

“Yeah, of course. Come here.”

Hanji crawls onto the bed and kneels between your spread legs, and as your fingers tear the corner of the packet open, he tilts your chin up and kisses you again. When you try to pull away, his shaky, whiny breath asks you to stay.

“I need to see the condom to get it on you,” you mumble against his lips, and he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. You both look down, then, watching your fingers carefully remove the condom from its packet. You make sure it’s facing the right way before pinching the tip and settling it against the head of Han’s blushing pink prick.

“Ahh,” he moans softly, biting his lip to try to stifle himself as more sounds beg to be released. He’d been so good about not touching himself under the guise that it would make him last longer when he got to finally get inside, but now he realizes the flaw in his plan as you slowly roll the condom down his length. He feels like he’s so pent up he could bust right now.

“Maybe I should finger you first,” he says unsurely, sitting back to look at your whole face and gage your expression.

“Why? I’m wet enough, I can assure you.” Your hand dips between your thighs and expertly dips into your heat, slipping against your labia both on the way in and back out. “See?” You hold up your two sticky, shiny wet fingers to Han, and his cock noticeably twitches.

“Oh my god.” His hand darts out to grab your wrist, and in the blink of an eye your fingers are in his mouth. His tongue swirls around and between your fingers, sucking every bit of taste from them as he can.

“Okay, actually,” he says when he releases your fingers. “I need a taste first.” He gently pushes you back, and you comply, butterflying your legs out to the side as Hanji lays between them.

Just like when he couldn’t resist sucking your tits as soon as he saw them, he goes at your pussy like a man starved, not for your pleasure but for his own.

He laps at your cunt, licking bottom to top multiple times until he can’t tell what’s your wetness and what’s his spit. Then he parts your labia with his fingers and flicks his tongue over your clit incessantly, taking your breath away.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, hands digging into his hair. “Hanji, you’re not going easy on me.”

He hums in half-ass acknowledgement, suckling, trying to give a little extra stimulation to your clit before his fingers prod at your vagina. Once again he makes you moan when two slide in, and once again he doesn't go easy on you as his fingers immediately begin to curl upward, looking for that perfect spot that will make you pull his hair and forget how to talk.

“Han-- Oh fuck-- Hanji, I thought-- I thought you were gonna fuck me. If you don't stop I’m gonna cum.”

Han’s rhythm falters, his tongue slowing and his fingers stilling. His previously closed eyes open and he peers up at you.

“Would you beg for it?” he asks, dipping his head back down to suckle at your clit again. “How many times have you heard me beg for it?” His fingers slowly begin to move again, teasing as they drag against the bumpy flesh inside your vagina. “Would you? If I kept eating you out instead, would you beg for my dick?”

“Mmm,” you whine, squirming, almost too embarrassed to admit that you would. But then his expert tongue comes back into play, circling around and around and you whine loudly and blurt it out.

“Please, Hanji. Please fuck me. I want your cock so bad. I want it inside me, please.”

You swear you hear him gasp as his head flies up, his eyes open wide, his drenched mouth hanging open yet still smiling. His fingers are out of you and quickly planted into the sheets beside your body as he almost literally leaps upward to align himself with you.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, hips already bucking as he tries to line his tip up with your pussy. “That was so fucking hot. God, I need you so fucking bad.” He ends up bumping your clit several times, whether on purpose or not, before he finally catches on the opening of your vagina and jerks forward an inch or two. His whole body jerks and his head hangs low and you sweeeear for a second he just came, but then he sinks fully into you with the longest, most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard in your bedroom life, and you know your dramatic best friend is just taking his time enjoying you.

“Oh my god,” he whines, kneeling between your legs with your hips fully touching. He lays his torso on yours, his head and soft hair landing on your chest. He pants like he’s trying to catch his breath and he keeps blessing your ears with these tiny, whiny moans. “You feel so good,” he mutters.

His hands roam your arms trying to your find your hands, and when he makes purchase and intertwines your fingers, he’s pinning them to the side of your head and raising himself back up above you. The feeling of him shifting inside you makes you clench around him, and you both moan when his cock twitches.

There’s one thing you can’t say about this encounter, and that’s that it lasts very long. He begins apologizing as soon as his hips start their work, his practiced dance rhythm keeping him perfectly in time as he fucks you.

“I’m so sorry y/nnie,” he huffs, “I’m gonna cum so fast.” He brushes his thumbs against the sides of your hands. “I want you so bad. I want you so bad.”

“Hanji,” you moan, squirming your hips up to meet his. “Feels so good. Ahh, fuck. Fuck, you can cum whenever you want. Just don’t leave me hanging.”

“Would never,” he swears, furrowing his brow. “Nng, fuck. I’m gonna make you cum so good. Gonna make you feel so good, y/nnie.”

“Please, Hanji. Make me cum.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice keening upward an octave. “Yeah, y/nnie. ‘M gonna make you cum. ‘M gonna-- ahh!”

He doesn’t have the resolve to stop himself when it feels so good. Instead he buries himself as far as possible when he cums, imagining the way his hot spurts look filling up your pretty pussy, even though he knows the condom catches it all. It doesn’t stop him from picturing you leaking pearly white for him to slurp up and spit back into your mouth.

Another time, maybe. Another time.

“Y/n,” he sighs, letting go of your hands finally as he gives you a few more weak thrusts to milk the last good feelings from his orgasm before it gets too sensitive. “I love you.”

“I know, Hanji,” you say, softly smiling at him. “Love you too.”

The corners of his mouth twitch in a way you can’t read as he pulls out of you with a final sigh. He carefully rolls the condom off and ties it off before running it to the bathroom to drop in the trash.

As soon as he’s back in the room, he’s nestling between your legs again, wasting no time in sliding two fingers into you and circling your clit with his tongue.

“Fuck me with your fingers,” you tell him, guiding him to your orgasm. He does what you tell him, speeding up when you want, going harder, staying “just like that” until you’re cumming around him, leaking a good bit of watery cum that he excitedly notes in the back of his head for future exploration.

He licks you clean, teasing with the tip of his tongue around your swollen clit and sensitive hole a few times before finally relenting to your pleas of “enough, enough.”

When he finally lays down beside you, hugging you tightly despite your whining that it’s too warm, you’re both too sweat-sticky to be cuddling right now-- he tells you he loves you again.

“This is the third time you’ve said that in the last half-hour.”

“Yeah and you only said it back once.”

“I love you, Hanji,” you say in a teasing tone.

“Love me how?”

“Huh?”

“Love me how?” he repeats, flicking a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. “Because I love you like I’m trying to date you.”

“What?!”

“Ahh, I’m so lame,” he says, visibly cringing at your shocked reaction. “Post nut clarity is stupid. I’m being so blunt! And boring! I just feel so good and I love you so much and you’re so beautiful and I want you so bad.” He hugs you tighter, sighing and pouting at you. “Do you feel the same, y/nnie? Do you love me?”

“I-- Yes, Hanji, I do. I love you. I wouldn’t have ever let you touch me if I didn’t want you as more than a friend.”

“Say you’ll be mine,” he spits out quickly, nearly stumbling over his words in excitement. He hooks a leg over yours and forces both of you to squirm and writhe as he exclaims, “I love youuuu! Say you’ll be mine! Say it!”

You laugh, trying to fight against the wriggling, but his grip is too firm around you.

“Okay, okay! I love you, Hanji! Let’s do it! Let’s be a couple.”

His movements stop immediately and he beams a breathtaking smile at you.

“That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Oh, stop.” you say bashfully, playfully shoving him back, but this time he actually does let go of you and flop onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, still smiling.

“We should wash up,” you tell him softly, turning to get up.

“We?” he asks excitedly, and you barely bite back a giggle.

“I said what I said, didn’t I?”

#han x reader #han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han smut #han jisung smut #han x reader smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut

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daenysx · 3 days ago

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3:23am sirius? With reader waking up from a nightmare? Mayhaps mayhaps ...

3.23 AM I SIRIUS BLACK

you can almost feel the hand on your shoulder that connects you to reality.

it's like slipping from unconsciousness, you're being pulled back, you're desperate to lift your body from bed. there's something wrong but you can't focus on it, trapped in your sleep.

"it's okay." someone says. you feel too warm. "you're okay, baby, wake up."

the slightly scratchy voice tickles your ears deliciously, you open your eyes. it's not like you flinch or anything, but the first thing you see is sirius's worried eyes. his thumb draws circles on your shoulder, does he even know he's been doing that?

"what-" you try to lift yourself on your elbows. the words get stuck.

"i think you were having a nightmare, lovely girl." sirius murmurs with a kiss on your head. "you looked so uncomfortable, i was worried."

"i don't remember." you tell him, and it's true. the feeling of discomfort is remaining, but you don't know what you dreamed of. your face aches from frowning.

"that's okay, and we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." he says. "do you need me to turn on the lights?"

it's the middle of the night, and he's losing sleep because of you. you know sirius doesn't care about that, but still you want to take your time with processing the negative emotions you felt unconsciously, you don't even know what you saw.

"no, thank you." you say softly, and settle down in bed again. "um- did i make any sound?"

sirius fixes his hair briefly before bringing his hand to your cheek. "only a few of them. you didn't say anything, but you were feeling nervous, i think."

"maybe i'll remember later." you say.

it's mostly okay, sirius hugs you the way he was doing before he woke up. you put your head on his shoulder, safe in his embrace.

"will you be able to fall asleep again?" he asks silently. he'd stay awake with you until the morning if you can't.

"i feel exhausted." you confess. "i want to sleep, i hope i can."

sleep doesn't come easy. sirius spends the next thirty minutes by rubbing your back with slow circles, kissing your head many times, and speaking in soft encouragements to your ear. you feel like a mush in his arms, desperate for some good rest and unable to find it.

he doesn't let this become insufferable, though. you know he's there with you, you won't sit alone in bed in the middle of the night if you can't find sleep.

sirius pushes his luck a bit harder by adjusting your positions under the covers. he helps you put your head on his heart, you don't protest. it beats steadily, and so beautiful in a way that makes you want to listen to it forever. a nice rhythm in the dark, you follow it. you don't even know when your mind gives up, but at some point it does, leaves you into sleep again.

sirius is proud of himself, and happy with the way you take easier breaths. the night turns into a peaceful one, now that he knows you're feeling better and getting some sleep. you squeeze his fingers. a pretty smile forms on your lips, he can see it this close. he hopes you're having a nice dream this time. he hopes you dream of him.

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tossawary · 2 days ago

Text

General info: as far as I'm concerned, all of my fic ideas posted here are up for grabs.

Most of them, I'm never going to get around to writing, unfortunately, because I don't have the time, and even if I do write some out, I'm not going to object to someone else giving their own take. I very much subscribe to the "HOLY SHIT, TWO CAKES!" philosophy for fandom: more treats in more flavors is good.

Guidelines (as far as I can set conditions when I can't actually stop anyone): 1) If you get around to posting anything for this fic idea, I would appreciate being informed when you do. I may lose the notification because my brain is soup when I'm tired, so you can always message me again asking for a signal boost or something. I won't promise to read any fanfiction, because I may still be working on my own thing, but I still like being told.

2) I would also appreciate a shout-out, like an acknowledgement in the author's notes, for the inspiration, especially for very specific ideas with many details that get used. If you're going as far as to use dialogue that I wrote, then I would prefer a link to the original post / fic as well as a shout-out.

3) If I do decide to write out the fic idea someday, you have to be cool with there being two takes on it. We're not competing. No two people are going to have the same interpretation of a premise, which is great, when different fans are looking for different things. I'll probably be happy to link our works together. And if I am inspired by your work directly, if I do read it, then I will credit you for it, of course.

I am also fine with it if people write fanfiction of my fanfiction. If you write fanfiction of my fanfiction and say, "This fic sucked, I made it better," then it will hurt my feelings and I will probably block you, but I'm still not going to, like, ever try to set my followers on anyone. If you write out my fic ideas and you make any characterization or plot choices that are not to my taste, then I am going to go, "Oh, well, I hope they're having fun," and then get on with my day. If I somehow find out that you wrote my fic idea or fanfic for my fanfic and never told me about it, then I'm probably going to go, "Fair enough, I also generally prefer that authors do not acknowledge my existence," and it will not be a big deal.

So, go for it! Someone might as well try writing it and have fun with it, if I'm not going to, and also even if I do. ❤️

#tossawary updates #fic ideas #tossawary fandom

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starstrucklucky · 2 days ago

Text

The post text in case the link ever breaks.

The great Stop Fucking Him post

Mar. 4th, 2005 at 9:30 AM

Demure or something

This post won't be for everyone. If you're uncomfortable with hearty leftist political opinions, you might want to skip it. I've gone ahead and lj-cut it out of consideration for (a). people who'd rather pass on it and (b). people who are at work, and might prefer to skip repeated derivations of the word "fuck" in bold face type. That having been said, feel free to keep reading or move right along. I promise not to take it personally.

Edit: Yes, yes yes -- feel free to link

this wherever you like. I don't mind.

This is not about abortion.

If you read the article in its entirety, I think that much is obvious -- this is not about abortion. If this were about abortion -- specifically, about fewer abortions being performed -- then those interested in reducing that number would hop all over this bill. So I'll say it again, this is not about abortion.

This is about women having sex, and who gets to be in charge of that sex.

Well, really -- that's what it all comes down to, isn't it? At present, there is a movement in place to make sure that (to lift a phrase from Dan Savage) men have orgasms, and women have babies.

There are people in this world who very firmly believe that this is the natural order of things: men have orgasms, and women have babies. This is a sacred balance, whereby a man is made happy for two minutes and a woman spends the next nine months serving as host to a life-threatening parasite, then the next eighteen years held legally, morally, and fiscally responsible for the health and well-being of that parasite ... while the man is free to wander off or stick around at his leisure.

This is a balance that many, many people -- many of them in positions of power -- are willing to go to great lengths to enforce. Never mind that many (but not all) of these people are men, and are therefore unlikely to be held accountable for any parasite more complex than a tapeworm ... for some strange reason or reasons, these people want to make sure that it is very, very difficult for your average American woman to manage her reproductive system.

Most of the people who object to the wide, easy availability of birth control are men. These men have the luxury of assuming this position because they have no reason to believe that they, personally, have anything at stake. I find this baffling.

The solution is so obvious that it can be boiled down to three words: stop fucking them.

That's right. Stop fucking them.

If your man doesn't understand that if he's entitled to an orgasm, you're entitled to an unoccupied uterus -- stop fucking him. If he can't get it through his thick skull that his fleeting pleasure poses a mortal threat to you -- stop fucking him. No handjobs, no blowjobs, no orgasms for him whatsoever except by his own hand, until you can be completely assured of a baby-free future, at your discretion.

These men do not deserve access to your pants. Stop fucking them.

I don't know what you think you owe them, and I don't care how badly they whine or beg. I don't care if they're wonderful boyfriends otherwise. I don't care if you're married to them. Stop fucking them. It is still your body. It is still your call. Clearly, they do not understand this. So stop fucking them.

They will not die if you do not fuck them. Stop fucking them.

Remember: You can hold out longer than they can. I promise. Your sex toys are better,* your self-control is superior, and your stakes are higher. Stop fucking them. You deserve better. You deserve someone who is aware that your body is your domain, and who respects that. If he doesn't respect that, stop fucking him.

Just stop. Stop it. You deserve better, and he deserves a cold shower if he thinks he is entitled to control over your vagina and how you manage its daily operation. Stop fucking him if he thinks that someone other than you should determine what hangs around inside you. Stop fucking him, because he would sooner masturbate with a corkscrew than let you dictate how he receives his prostate exams.

Stop fucking him if he refers to birth control as your problem, then helps vote in legislation that makes it your really big fucking problem. Stop fucking him if he thinks that your inability to prevent conception should in no way prevent him from having sex with you.

It's not that complicated.

Stop fucking him.

Stop it. Seriously.

Christ.

* And illegal in some states. Coincidence? I think not.

Attn: conservative men

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xiakato · 19 hours ago

Text

WENDY - Fatal Attraction (M)

“Would you still think of me the same?”

“Give it a moment of silence and maybe I will,” Her eyes always had you in a trance leaving you breathless. Her eyes felt like they knew everything about you at a glance.

“You want me then you don’t Y/n what kind of love is that?” She asks you as she stands up walking towards you, her heels click against the floor.

“It’s my kind of love,” You tell her as she straddles you, her slender fingers running through your hair.

“Everytime we touch, it feels like you can take everything from me,” Her voice low and sultry, “I get lost in your eyes and then your touch,” Your hands subconsciously run up her thighs. Her breath tickles your neck, feeling her lips graze against your neck. She crackles a small smile as she feels your hands travel higher, “I know you will miss the love I give,” Her tongue licking up your neck, “You won’t forget my name.”

Your hands grab what that can grab of her, leaving her to laugh at your desperation. She spins around pressing her ass against your hardening bulge. Your hands gravitate to her waist, moving one to her neck, pushing her back against you. Your lips find their target, kissing her navel, “You can’t blame me Wendy,” her hands grip onto yours.

“You know that I can't be yours,” She moans as your hand tightens ever so slightly more around her neck, “But you don’t care do you?”

“I’ll make you mine, and mine alone,” You tell her as she starts to move her hips, “You know better than I do that nobody can compare to me,”

“I’m addicted to the way you move across that line,” She bites her lip, she always loved the feeling of being in your arms, “To your danger,” She can’t help but to laugh, “ You’re like a fucking drug to me.”

“I’m only playing with you Wendy,” Your voice softer than you thought it would be as the music plays in the background. She slowly grinds on you, ignoring your words.

“I like the games that you play, I’m in too deep Daddy,” She smiles, “I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to,” her nails digging into your forearms, something that she always loved to do on body, the scars on your back is evidence of that. Pushing her down to her knees, a smile still etched across her face. She kisses your bulge through your pants, “So big,” She bites her lip as her small delicate fingers dance across your shaft. Making short work of your pants, your cock springs out hitting her face, as she smiles more taking in a deep breath as your cock rests on her face, “So thick,” Her lips wrapping around your shaft, Her eyes are fixated with your cock. Her kisses are the best no matter where they are placed. Your hand gravitates to the back of her head, your fingers intertwining with her hair. The silky strands falling perfectly between your fingers, her mouth does what it does best just behind singing. She works up and down on your shaft with her mouth, her tongue gliding underneath. Getting impatient, you push yourself down her throat sliding down with ease. Her gag reflex is long gone through the practice she has had with you. Her eyes close as you fuck her throat, her nails digging into your thighs. Pulling out of her mouth watching the spit fall onto the floor, you throw her back to the couch pulling up her skirt.

“Please daddy,” She looks back at her, a slight wiggle of her ass, “Hurry and fuck me, make me yours,” Spreading her ass for you, she’s dripping making a mess of your couch. Who are you to make her wait? Your cock slides into her without any resistance. Her walls tighten around you, “F-f-fuck,” Her breathy moans fill the room, “Fuck me hard please Daddy,” She begs and begs pushing her hips back against you. Your hands grip on to her hips giving her what she wants.

“Is this what you wanted?” She takes your cock so well, just like you trained her to. She nods desperately, “Take this cock little slut.”

“Give it to me daddy,” Her moans fill the room, skin against skin. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her hands loosen their grip on the couch. You love the way she's putty under you. Her juices squirt covering the couch and the floor. Her body shakes as you keep up your pace. She takes it, doesn’t tell you to stop. She knows that you wouldn’t listen anyways. You pull her hair, making her look into the mirror above the couch, “P-please,” She begs again but for what? You don't know, “Ruin me daddy.”

You take her words to heart and set out to do just that, her body reacts to you in its trained way. You own her and you are going to show her that you do. Her hair pulled, red hand prints on her ass. “Such a slut,” You mutter as she squirts again with your hand around her pretty little neck. Pulling out, you watch her collapse sliding off the couch to the floor, laying in the puddle of her own creation. “Come on and crawl to the bedroom,” You watch as she struggles to her knees and slowly crawls, you leave heavy slaps on her ass as she does. Her whimpers are music to your ears, finally she makes it to the room. You pull her to the bed by her hair, tying her hands to the headboard. Her abs are what drew you to her in the first place then and now you still love them. Pulling out an ice cube you gently place onto her midriff causing her hips to buckle. The ice cube starts to melt onto her hot skin, your fingers make their way between her folds. Her eyes locked onto your hands as your fingers found their way inside.

“R-ruin me,” She begs again, “Not with your fingers Daddy, b-but with that big fat cock,” She begs more and more, making you chuckle. You watch her as becomes more undone as your fingers make short work of her orgasm, The ice cube fully melted, the remaining water sits in the curves of her midriff. Her body reacts to the littlest of any touch by you. Untying her hands from the ropes, her arms go limp. The rope dug into her skin leaving marks, you pulled her towards you, pushing her legs to her head. Slamming your cock into her without much warning. You take her for everything she’s worth. Her stomach bulges as you pound away. Her moans are hoarse and nearly inaudible. Her arms wrap around your neck, max she could muster. You fill her up, not even bothering to tell her about the incoming orgasm from you. You keep going, she wanted you to ruin her and that’s what you were going to do. She takes load after load, no complainants, this is what she wanted. You pull out for the last time, your cum dripping out of her, her legs go limp and fall to the bed. You catch your breath, “Why don’t you quit idol work and come be my everyday cumdump?”

“I-is that your way of proposing?” She asks between her breaths, you chuckle nodding, “I thought you’d never ask Daddy.”

#kpop smut #kpop #malereader #red velvet #son seungwan

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for-those-who-wait · 11 hours ago

Note

Hey I think I asked you about your Detroit become human au before a bit ago but I love the idea so much! I know you’re super busy but if you can I would love to see more about it!

Sorry for asking about it again I’m just really interested in it. 😭🙏

No please don't be sorry I love to talk about it whenever I'm not creatively bankrupt!! I'm just sorry it took so long for me to actually think of new stuff to add

I had some of these doodles already prepared but never really finished them up until I came up with a cute little idea

I didn't think of where to put in Flapjack until I remembered that android animals existed, and then I had a brain blast moment where I realized that Hunter can still talk to Flapjack! They are little android buddies, they can interface and talk and be friends!! I think it would also help to make him feel a bit more comfortable with his identity as an android to be able to have his little buddy to have fun private conversations with. Camila introduces them (maybe he had gotten hurt by a previous owner and she found him and let Gus fix him up) and Hunter is a bit tentative about it at first, but Flapjack is adorable and sweet and quickly wins him over

I just now had the idea that Gus, since he's super into android stuff, would probably be a big resource for software and hardware difficulties. Oh, you fell and your arm is working kinda wonky? Call up Gus, he'll crack you open and take a look. The dude doesn't mind in the least, he freaking LOVES going down mechanical and coding rabbit holes to better understand how androids work. I like to think that if Hunter ever got hurt and chose not to accept help because of body/species dysphoria, Gus would be a really good resource for him to try and feel as normal as possible while he's getting fixed. Gus is his brother and he loves him and they're just good to each other okay? Gus would probably crack some jokes or something to get Hunter's mind off it, or infodump about android organs or something (and Hunter would be begrudgingly interested because they are nerds, and Hunter is interested in androids too underneath all the problems he has with deviancy. Like dude they're robots, what's not to love?)

Also some Gus being so over Hunter's "androids can't feel love" phase featuring Vee and Masha being very adorable and very obviously in love :) Hunter is a very silly stupid man. He will find any way to make literally everyone exempt from the terrible rules Philip fed him, except for himself

I'm trying to think of a potential situation that would parallel Hunter's possession, and I think it would probably be basically the same thing that happens in Connor's deviant path (when he deviates and joins the revolution as an ally) where Amanda (a separate AI in his programming that's basically how CyberLife keeps him in check) takes over Connor's programming last minute to try and put a stop to the revolution.

So my current thought is that Philip is basically using Hunter as a trojan horse. His main programming is to act and believe like he's a normal human but similar to Connor, he's basically a sleeper agent without knowing. I imagine that once Hunter gains access to his software (thanks to Vee and Gus), he starts finding programs and files that are labeled as pretty scary things. He shouldn't have to know the most efficient way to shut an android down or incapacitate a human.

If and when Philip finally goes looking for Hunter and sees the first android he's seen in Gravesfield besides Hunter (aka Vee), he's not going to take that well.

I haven't drawn anything for it but so far I'm thinking that he takes control of Hunter's programming, maybe through some taking advantage of his interfacing system, and locks him in his own head a la Connor and Amanda to sic him after Vee and Flapjack (assuming that Philip's main goal, similar to both canons, is to eradicate deviants). It's likely that his friends will try to apprehend him, Vee or Gus will try (and maybe fail a couple times) to delete the programming while Camila deals with Philip. The guy is old and decrepit and Camila would absolutely whoop his ass with the ease of swatting a fly.

Things will be fine; Vee is all good and they manage to delete whatever programming screwed with Hunter's control, but that kid is going to be HELLA anxious about interfacing again from then on since he's afraid of 1) losing his own control and 2) potentially passing the virus onto someone else. It could go two ways at that point: Hunter could either kill Flapjack since Flapjack is technically a deviant android and therefore a target, or we can be nice and let Flapjack live to help him heal from this brand-new trauma.

So yeah hopefully that sates some curiosity! I'm glad you're interested in it because I honestly really love to think of new stuff whenever my brain decides to work hahaha

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error-dream-was-found · 20 hours ago

Note

I just saw your idea about Quackity sucking at torture and I am SO intrigued 👀 Please do tell

(Also I absolutely love love love your writing <3)

Hiii, thank you for asking :)

And I'm happy to hear that you enjoy my writing <3

It's been a while since I came up with that idea and I can't seem to find my notes on it (I found like 15 other half forgotten AUs instead oops) but I'm pretty sure it came from some discussion with Flora.

The basic idea is that everything happens just as it does in canon and Quackity goes to torture Dream. This is where things get sketchy because as I said, this is a 100 % crack idea so ... what if Quackity just somehow managed to fuck up every single torture attempt?

I really wish I could find my notes on this because I know I had some specific ideas written down but let's go with what I remember. During the first visit I think he might've just underestimated Dream who in spite of being in the prison for a while now was still able to dodge Quackity and maybe even disarm him or something just it ends up with Sam having to interfere.

But it's okay! Quackity's got it! It was just a ... a minor inconvenience, nothing more. But ... things are just not working out during his second visit either, nor during the third one or the fourth one.

Dream is totally not giving fuck about what Quackity wants and for the sake of crack Quackity just miserably fails in all his attempts to torture Dream in the most ridiculous ways possible.

Like, he will get his axe stuck in the obsidian and can't pull it out, he drops a harming potion and hits himself instead of Dream, he sets himself on fire on accident (that lava wall had no business being over there!), he fails to realize that Dream is actually good in strategic games and his plan to hurt Dream for losing a game fails when the game drags on for way too long (bonus points if he loses somehow). Just some very weird (and hopefully somewhat funny) stuff happens.

Some time he doesn't even get to try his hand at torture because he gets carried away with wedding preparation and all (just imagine him forcing Dream help with choosing the decorations or something lol)

After his fight with Karl Dream is forced to be the therapist (he has no escape while Quackity cries about the state of his relationship), least to say Dream is very confused why Quackity thought he is the right person to ask about the relationship problems (srsly Q have you seen the state of his relationships???)

At this point Dream himself might try to give him tips, look he is not a fan of getting tortured but this is just sad, okay?

Perhaps he will manage to actually hurt Dream at some point but by then I think he would be too used to failing that it actually freaks him out more than it freaks out Dream himself. Least to say the rest of the "session" was spend fretting over Dream because god man you're bleeding! Dream is just there like ... isn't this what you wanted? And well yeah but also no! (Q has some very mixed feelings)

Overall though I think Q would maim himself in that cell more than he ever did to Dream. On accident of course. I never figured out the logistics of this one but it'd be hella funny if Q somehow managed to idk cut of his own finger or something of the sort which would just end up with him freaking out and Dream having to try to calm him down while also calling for Sam to bring a healing potion

I know that it's supper cannon inaccurate but it's really just a crack idea without any real plot behind it 😅

#thanks for asking I love talking about my silly ideas :)#please ignore the grammar errors my autocorrect loves to screw me over 🤦‍♀️#c!dream #c!quackity #c!dream and c!quackity #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp au #can i tell you a story?

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quantomeno · 8 hours ago

Text

I have been trying to find the article or opinion piece or whatever I read that discussed this, but this appears to be a significant issue with all left-leaning governments. If you'll forgive the gendered language:

Political analysts have long considered these three fields – managing the finances, managing the economy, and defence – to represent the “daddy” aspects of national political persona, traditionally dominated by centre-right parties the world over. The centre-left parties have been seen to excel in the more “caring” fields of health and education: the “mummy” aspect.

(from here, an opinion piece in the Sydney Morning Herald, which I don't think was exactly the thing I was looking for, but it's the same idea more or less)

People in the tags have noted this occurs with the Tories/Labour in the UK, and it definitely occurs in Australia with the Liberals/Labor (the Liberals are conservatives by the way, it's confusing, we know).

The problem is that people often don't 'feel' the effects of economic improvement, or they fixate on things that are still bad and think when the government is talking about improvements they're lying or think the improvements are happening to other people, probably 'coastal elites' or what we in Australia might call 'inner city latte sippers'.

Then the right can capitalise on this resentment, and even if they don't achieve their claims of making life better, people have such short memories they don't realise things have worsened. Another issue is the fact left-wing policies tend to involved bigger government involvement or significant changes to the status quo, and the right can then run scare campaigns which the left can't combat because having nuanced debates over complicated policies doesn't make snappy headlines. And you also get, as @what-even-is-this said above, the left inheriting failing economies and the right inheriting improving economies. So things often get blurred about who was responsible for what benefit, and if things are good under one government, the other will claim it was because of their actions before it etc etc.

Celinda Lake (Biden's pollster in 2020) was interviewed on the Australian TV show Planet America this week and said something very similar (it starts at 28:23), that the Democrats need a better economic message, a better 'conversation' with the voters the Democrats traditionally worked to support but who now believe the Republicans will help them more.

It is quite sad to admit, but it seems people often care more about their economic wellbeing than any other consideration. Part of it is a sort of survivalism though, where they go, yes, I would like to help xyz, but I'm struggling too.

From my position, well at a distance, I got the vibe this election was just people annoyed at the current administration and going to literally the only viable alternative, as opposed to a population shifting dramatically in their political views. I expect a lot of people don't like the guy who'll be president and don't really even want him to be president, but still voted for him because of his party. It's an electorate who has long been made to believe left bad at economy, right good at economy. Plus you guys don't have a third parties that presents itself as a viable alternative.

Elections are often decided by the political issues that the right is seen to be better at, but a lot of it is just bluff and posturing. The right can talk tough and it makes people think they're getting things done. It's not until it all unravels that people will consider the left. I've got a long discussion about Aus politics below if you want to read about it, which provides some more concrete examples of these things.

Also there are obviously other issues at play, the electorate isn't one monolith, people have individual reasons for voting etc etc etc. This is just one thing that I think was a big factor generally. Harris seemed to be too much a part of an administration they were unhappy with and people weren't convinced she would bring anything new to fix things.

Australia has two major parties, the left-wing Australian Labor Party (yes, Australian English spells it labour, but the party is US-style, it's a long story) and the right-wing Liberal Party (they are conservatives but they're called Liberals. The reason is they believe in libertarian sort of values like the free market and small government). The Liberals govern in coalition with the National Party (ostensibly the party of the farmers and rural Australians, they're more right wing than the Liberals), and so we often call them the Coalition.

(Also, Labor is red and the Liberals are blue, so our colours are opposite of US but the same as the UK. This isn't important right now but I enjoy reminding americans that their colour-coding of politics is actually not the norm)

After 11 years of Coalition government under John Howard, we elected Kevin Rudd and the Labor Party in 2007. Then the GFC happened. Labor got us through very well, relatively speaking. But K-Rudd was losing popularity so members of the Labor party decided to vote for a new leader (this wasn't an election: for any Americans out there, the prime ministership isn't an elected position, it's just the leader of the party in power and they can choose that amongst themselves). And so we got Julia Gillard, our first female PM. She narrowly won the next election, and suffered through a number of things that lowered her standing in the polls (including misogyny, but also a few broken election promises the opposition pounced on) and so before the next election they backstabbed her and reinstated Kevin, hoping the change would improve their odds. It didn't work: Labor lost to (shudder) Tony Abbott and the Coalition. I really dislike Abbott. Raw-onion-with-the-skin-on-eating Abbott. 'Suppository of all wisdom' Abbott. 'Shit happens' Abbott. Wanting-to-knight Prince-Phillip Abbott. I mean, these are just his gaffes. The less said of his politics and personality the better.

The Liberals governed for a simultaneously stagnant and tumultuous nine years. Nine years with three prime ministers being overthrown by their own party and never actually getting all that much done. Abbott, rapidly losing favourability, was replaced with Malcolm Turnbull, an erudite, moderate Liberal who was under constant attack from his government's right wing and got murdered by them at the slightest whiff of a policy that might have the vaguest of emission reduction targets (these years are known as the climate wars and they're still not really over). Turnbull gave way to Scott Morrison. Scomo went to the election with really only one major economic policy which was some tax cuts. He won. Then the pandemic happened and yeah. We went massively into debt due to the huge spending required to keep everyone afloat. I am glad the Libs did that, but it points out their hypocrisy since they had banged on and on about Labor's 'debts and deficits' (I think particularly to do with spending during the GFC) and yet had not given a single budget surplus (i.e. they had been spending more than they gained in taxes etc) in that entire 9 years. And then, when it's their turn to spend big to save the economy, they're happy to ignore debts.

Labor was led during this time by Bill Shorten, a good guy but no one really liked him, nor his 'zingers', and his policies involved a lot of reforms and changes, leaving him open to scare campaigns from the right. Labor eventually decided to shed Bill and put in Anthony Albanese. Albo ran a very small target campaign to try to neutralise the differences between him and Scomo. It was... moderately successful. Labor got into government but really, it was the Liberals who lost because we all just disliked Scotty from Marketing (he mishandled the pandemic on a number of fronts, among other crises including, but not limited to, going to Hawaii during the 2019-20 bushfires and sexual misconduct allegations involving members of his party). The 2022 federal election is a story of its own though. The point is, Labor got into power.

They have given us our first budget surplus in 15 years. A budget surplus had been hyped up by successive Liberal governments who consistently failed to deliver one. Sure, Labor is still dealing with a housing crisis, but prices had been rising under the Coalition who just twiddled their thumbs and eventually suggested the policy of allowing people spend their superannuation (it's a bit like the US 401(k): here it's compulsory for money to go into a fund which you can't access until retirement) on a house (they're still suggesting this last I heard). And inflation has been high, but it seems to be going down, and the inflation was the result of (guess what) high levels of government spending during the pandemic (combined with supply issues caused by wars and the pandemic). Labor has done a decent job of bringing the economy back on track. They've been fiscally responsible. They even rejigged Scott's tax cuts to make them better for lower-income earners. Labor is clearly on par, if not better, at handling the economy and have shown this twice in my lifetime.

But do they get any credit for this? As if!

Labor has been absolute rubbish at explaining how they're helping people. Rubbish! It's why the Voice to Parliament referendum failed, because no one explained it clearly and succinctly. I don't think it failed because people were really racist, I think they just didn't get the point of it. I mean, some of it was underlying racism and a sense of 'why do they deserve this? don't they have enough?' but that stems again from a communication issue since people don't understand how big the gap still is. (for confused non-Australians, I'm talking about the referendum to enshrine in the constitution an advisory group of Indigenous Australians who would give advice to the government about matters pertaining to First Nations issues. The referendum failed abysmally)

Labor is currently heading towards a minority government (they will be the biggest party, but won't have a proper majority in parliament and will need to deal with a crossbench of minor parties and independents). They're expected to win partly because the Liberals are becoming increasingly right-wing (they lost a lot of their moderates at the last election to independents) and the current leader of the Libs looks like Mr Potato Head and has all the warmth of Darth Vader, so they might not win the centre very easily (we have compulsory voting, so you need to be at least relatively moderate to win big). But Labor will struggle (and could still lose) because Albanese is just terrible at getting any cut-through. It's pitiful. Personally, I'd kinda like Penny Wong as PM but she'd need to resign as a senator and be elected to the house of reps, so it's highly unlikely (plus I do like her in the Foreign Affairs portfolio). I think Jim Chalmers, our current treasurer, would be a good fit. He's got twice the charm of Albo and ten times that of Peter Dutton (Darth Potatohead, the current leader of the Liberals). He's also an effective communicator and can take a lot of credit for the economy since he's the guy making the budgets. I don't necessarily think he's an amazing treasurer (he's no Paul Keating), but he's done a good job. The thing is, Labor is highly unlikely to have another leadership spill for fear of appearing unstable (they made it much harder to have a spill after the Rudd-Gillard-Rudd debacle).

And sadly, Dutton has quite a bite, and loves to rip into Labor right where it hurts: the economy and immigration.

Don't get me started on immigration... I totally skipped over it but it's been a big issue here just like in the US.

Also I am not the biggest fan of Labor after they started to shift rightwards (the whole 'neutralise issues' thing). They're a bit like the Democrats in that sense, but the situation is a little different.

It seems like there’s this cycle of republicans making the economy bad and then people get tired of the republicans and elect a democrat and the democrat inherits a bad economy and then they sort of fix it somewhat and then people are like hey the economy is bad it was better during the Republican administration and then they elect a Republican who inherits a better economy from the democrat while he’s trashing it and then people are like hey he’s trashing the economy and then they elect a democrat who inherits a bad economy and fixes it somewhat and then people are like hey the economy was better when there was a Republican and then they elect a Republican who trashes the sort of better economy he inherited from the democrat and so on and so forth like forever I guess

#I don't typically talk politics because this is a blog for stuff I like and find fun #but actually I really enjoy talking about Australian politics and so I'm posting this #I don't want to be drawn too deeply into debates on politics of foreign countries because I don't live there #but (recent) Australian political history I'm pretty well-versed in #But I'll refrain from talking too much about it #just because this isn't that sort of blog #us election #australian politics

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