#but this is something i Think a lot about when it comes to writing i guess

[luveline]

hi jade! I remember a while back you wrote a drabble about hotchner!reader having a really bad panic attack and Spencer and Aaron helping her at the hospital, and it gave me a lot of comfort to read it. would you be interested in writing something about Spencer and Aaron taking care of hotchner!reader as she adjusts to her new meds?

—Spencer and your brother, Aaron, take care of you when your new prescription gives unexpected side effects. fem (adopted) 2k

When things got quiet at home, you’d get tense. 

Your apartment is silent. No whir of the heating, no washing machine clatter, no voices. You sit on the couch with your legs pulled up, turned to the armrest with your cheek pressed to the seat's backing. Your phone is in your hand at a low percentage. You’ll get up to charge just as soon as you can remember what you’d wanted to be doing in the first place. 

Spencer was going to call you. He’s sweet, really. You didn’t expect for love to feel easy; you never thought someone could like you without allowances. You’re quiet sometimes, your nerves are shot. You ask for reassurance too much, too often, and you don’t believe them when they’re given. 

You aren’t smart, or funny, or particularly hard-working. 

But Spencer loves you, you’re almost certain. Or maybe he’s just content to be half happy. It wouldn’t surprise you if he called you to break up with you —what use have you been to him lately? You’re tired everyday. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you never want to go out. You can barely make it through the working day. 

Your phone beeps in your hand. 

Outside, it says. If Spencer’s there, please make sure he’s fully dressed.

You manage to smile weakly. Aaron saw Spencer once getting out of the shower, and he was dressed, thank you very much. You hadn’t done anything salacious as he might’ve assumed from the situation, just showered together, but Aaron always lets you know before visiting now. 

Doesn’t ask, by the way, but you don’t actually want him to. He’s like, the only good thing in your life beside Spencer. 

Aaron lets himself in and finds you immediately. “Hey, honey,” he says. 

He slipped into the affectionate older brother role not long after meeting you, and he’s been worse since you were in the hospital. Which is to say, gentler with you. 

He slips a bag of groceries onto the counter. He pans around the room. It’s cleaner than usual here, but none of the lights are on, nor the TV. You can see him notice it. 

“You okay?” he asks, pulling groceries from the bag. He’s brought milk, bread, eggs, and fresh soups from the nice store nearby. “It’s quiet in here.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Yeah? Any wobbles?” 

He’s asking if you’ve had a panic attack or anything like it, but for the last few days you’ve felt veritably numb. “I’m okay,” you say. 

You should bring up your symptoms. Clearly, lexapro either isn’t right for you or the dosage is too much; you’re a zombie these last couple of days. Medications don’t always work straight away, so for a time you’d felt like your script was useless, serving only to make you nauseous, but the sickness has finally gone away. 

He opens the fridge to put away the groceries. He’s sliding the bread into your bread box when he says, “Honey, aren’t you gonna answer that? Your phone?”

You blink down at your phone. Spencer’s contact glows in front of a green background. 

You click answer and pull it to your ear. “Hello?” you ask softly. 

“Hey, angel. How are you feeling today?” 

You clear your throat. “Fine.” 

“I was thinking I’d come over?” 

“You’re outside?” you ask. 

“How’d you know that?” 

“Must be something in the water.”

“I’ll come up now. I brought some things for dinner.” 

You manage your first laugh that dreary day. It’s nearly normal. “Okay. I might not have room.” 

Spencer promises to be up quickly and disconnects the call. You lift your chin to find Aaron already looking at you. “Do I look okay?” you ask. 

“Beautiful, don’t worry.”

“Is this an ambush?” you ask. 

“Not an intentional one. Can I make you something to drink?” 

He’ll make you something you like, you trust. You try to sit properly on the couch before Spencer gets here, rubbing under your eyes, checking there’s nothing on your t-shirt and sweatpants. It might not matter if there were, you know Spencer thinks you’re pretty without makeup or fancy clothes, but he doesn’t necessarily have to be truthful about it. 

“Aaron,” you say, before you can forget, “did… was Jack’s soccer okay?”

He passes you a mug, squeezing your shoulder lovingly. “It was great. I’ll show you the photos.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t go.” 

You were supposed to. Spencer even drove to pick you up, but he got here and your meds weren’t working and your heart was beating wrong, so you stayed home. 

“It’s okay.” Aaron looks like he wants to hug you, but he doesn’t. “Nobody’s mad at you for that.” 

“For other things?” 

“Nothing.” 

Your door opens again. Spencer bursts in with two things, a brown paper bag of groceries and a bouquet of flowers. It’s a pretty huge bouquet, as they go, white and pink flowers, cornflower blue chrysanthemums spotted throughout, the end of his scarf stuck in the flowers and his coat unbuttoned in the struggle. “Hey. Hi, Hotch.” 

“Spencer,” Aaron says, which is strangely warm. 

Spencer shoves the bouquet aside to see you. “Hi, you okay?” 

You force yourself to stand. It’s obvious you’re not feeling right, your head whirring, but you have to make sure he still wants you. “Spencer.” 

He puts the bouquet down. The groceries next. “Angel,” he says, meeting Aaron’s eyes quickly, then back to you, where he smiles sympathetically, “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You’ve only taken a few steps toward him when he catches you for a hug. It’s nice and polite, but not without tenderness. He doesn’t pull your weight in like he would if you were alone, but he holds your back and sits a quick kiss against your cheek as he pulls away. 

“I don’t really know, a few days?” you suggest. 

“You could’ve told me. Or Hotch, you know?” 

“I know, I was going to, just–” You press your hand to your eyes. “Didn’t really notice it was happening.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Aaron says, coming to join you both in the kitchen. “It’s alright. Spencer isn’t scolding you, he just wants you to know we’re here for you no matter what happens.” 

“I don’t feel like myself,” you say.

“That’s okay,” Aaron furthers, holding you by the shoulder, his hand settling behind the nape of your neck, “we can talk to your doctor again, this isn’t permanent. We’ll talk to them today, if it’s what you need.” 

“I’m sorry. Not many people have such an adverse effect to lexapro, I was hoping you wouldn’t be an exception,” Spencer says. 

To your surprise, Aaron answers for you, “You couldn’t have known. This is just something we’ll have to keep doing together.” 

Someone sits you down. Aaron warms his fancy soups and toasts the bread he brought, making a plate and bowl for each of you without asking. Spencer barely balks. You manage another laugh, for which you’re rewarded with two smiles. 

Aaron can’t stay much longer, having to pick up Jack from Jess’, but he offers to come back. You decline, not wanting Jack to see you feeling as depressed as you are. He promises to call the doctor tonight and leaves in a rush. He must’ve stayed longer than he should’ve. 

Spencer is more forthcoming with soft touches once he’s gone. He didn’t eat much but neither did you, pushing the plates across the coffee table. He’s still wearing his coat. 

Fond, you reach for his chest and begin slipping buttons from the eyelets. “You’re staying, right?” you murmur. 

“If you’ll have me.” 

You open his coat and push it away from his shoulders. He dressed fancy even when he’s not going anywhere, it’s so strange, the button up and the tie and the sweater vest, all of it, but you love it. You run your hand down his vest. He lets his head dip forward. Not for kissing, just to be near. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Just feel wrong.” 

“It’s not really a good idea to stop taking the lexapro now. It’s technically an antidepressant, and your body won’t adjust well.” He holds your waist as you hold his. “But this is weird, huh?” 

“Feels weird.” 

“Short term, uh, I think we should just try and make sure you feel alright today. Is there anything you need?” he’s murmuring, rubbing his thumb into the soft of your stomach. “I can get anything. Or we can do anything.” 

“You don’t have to… worry about me.” 

“Are you kidding?” he asks softly.

“We haven’t been…” You trail your hand to his stomach, where it stays. “I just don’t expect you to deal with this, you didn’t sign up for this.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. I had no idea what I’d find out about you or what you might go through when we first met, but I wanted to find out. I wanted to take care of you then, and I do now,” he says simply.

“It’s not good timing for me to be like this.” 

“Stuff happens all the time. I wouldn’t want to wait for you to be perfect before we met.” He smiles genuinely. “Not that you’re not perfect.” 

“I really feel like I’m not even me.” 

“You’re you,” he says, dipping so close to you that you can’t see his face anymore, just his skin.

You slouch into his chest, coaxed by long, lithe arms cradling you, as kind as anyone’s ever touched you. He smells clean, your nose finding its way to his stiff collar. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You don’t have to be. Nobody wants you to be sorry, okay?” 

It’s a new feeling. Spencer spends the night with you on the couch and doesn’t for a moment seem like it’s something he doesn’t wanna do. You end up laying on his chest, his fingers drawing lines like a meandering figure skater up your back. Twirls and loops, long laps around your spine. When your phone rings, he’s nice enough to click answer and hold it to your ear. 

“Aaron?” you ask sleepily. 

“Hey, honey. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you back to Dr. Chester’s office, alright? If you don’t want to keep taking your lexapro, don’t. But if you can manage it, take another tonight, and we’ll figure out the new plan after your appointment.” 

“Okay,” you say, feeling very small. “Thank you for doing that for me.” 

“I’d do anything. Jack says he loves you, he’s making you a painting of yourself. He’s very good at the colours.” 

“I bet he is,” you say loudly. In the background, you can hear Jack’s pleased little thank you. 

“Do you want to talk a while?” he asks.

“That’s okay, Aaron, I’m half asleep on Spencer right now.” 

“Good, that’s good. Tell him to take good care of you, okay? Or I won’t be happy.” 

Spencer laughs above your head. “When is he ever happy?” he jokes in a whisper. 

“Shh,” you say, giving Spencer a light shove. “He says he will.” You swallow a lump, as you’ve had to do all day, but it isn’t rawness that colours your voice now. “I love you. Thank you for, uh, calling the doctor. Thanks.” 

“I love you too. I’ll leave you to sleep now. I’ll come at eleven, alright?” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow,” you say. 

Your voice is weak. Spencer pulls the phone away and hangs it up, tossing it without force onto the coffee table, before wrapping his arm around you snugly. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Spencer says. “You’ll see, things aren’t going to be like this forever. It’s statistically impossible.” 

“Ooh,” you croon, pressing your tired face back into his chest, “I love when you talk statistics to me. Tell me more.”

He draws shapes into your back, his voice a murmur as he starts to talk. 

[definitelynot-aleokin]

I both write and read fanfic. I read more than I write because writing while in university is hard. I also started on fanfic.net, though I am of the younger generation. I also spent time on wattpad before moving to ao3. I tend not to comment unless a certain part really gets me. A side comment on a subject here, that I know a lot about and want to share knowledge about how cool it is and you could add this if the fic goes that way! And I comment if I fic has me by the throat, but I only do on the last chapter, not every one. Part of this is while I was still younger, I made many mistakes. I embarrassed myself by commenting. So now, I wait, I think, and then I comment.

When it comes to my own fics, I could be projecting into the void and still write. For me, it's not about how many hits, kudos, or reviews. I write for me. I found, and make, my own happiness as a writer. Still, I LOVE when people comment! I get a lot of squees and "oh this one part is good!" But none are a conversation. I crave the conversation, really. I want to go feral with someone else who is just as feral about the subject (gimme the discords!). I love counting my kudos and hits. I see what stories I have that get a lot of people, and I see the ones that dont. But that doesnt make me write the more popular ones more. I write what I want. I have so many ideas that I dont think anyone is going to read, im still gonna write them (when I have time). Because, if I want it, statistically, there is one other who wants it just as bad. Even if they dont comment or kudo. I dont care. I want to be a writer that I would have wanted, either now, or growing up.

I'm pretty sure people dont like it when I post something original instead of only reblog on Tumblr. It doesnt stop me. And it shouldnt stop you. Its easier said than done, but, create your own validation and happiness.

"should we tell authors on ao3 when we have discord conversations about their fics" i don't speak for everyone here but if y'all ever find a group chat discussing my fics you can should must and WILL send me screenshots of the whole damn thing. inflate my ego. gimme

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

 Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh.  “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too.  “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @karencaribou @princesstarble @dirtylittlefairytales @hbwrelic @mosscrissfemmefatale @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3 @lokidovahkiin

[astral-lucy]

your next partner (PAC)

hello beautiful creatures! i'm excited to be back with another pick-a-card reading. i've been feeling romantic lately, so here goes a reading regarding your next partner. hope you enjoy it!

as usual, pick the picture that you feel most connected or drawn towards (pile 1 - up and left / pile 2 - up and right / pile 3 - down and left / pile 4 - down and right)

happy reading!

#pile 1

wheel of fortune - eight of wands - knight of cups - six of swords - seven of coins

when i started to shuffle for this pile’s reading, “so high school” by taylor swift started playing, so maybe that means something to you. although this is a person i think you’ve known for a while, the wheel of fortune here shows a new stage of this relationship, and paired with the eight of wands this shows a period of excitement, passion - the typical honeymoon phase we all go through once we start a relationship. maybe you have been through a rough period emotionally, things haven’t been great for either one of you, and here comes a calmer time, you’ll have someone to rely on that’ll help you with all the love in the world. this relationship seems ideal, but there are a few cards here that advice making an effort to communicate correctly with each other. 

when i asked about the appearance of this person i got freckles! i also see that this person has a baby face or is a pretty childish person, someone with a lot of energy. i feel like they have lighter hair as well.  you can also expect this to happen literally at any moment now! this is something that is already happening and in the works. 

#pile 2

the hanged man - queen of cups - knight of cups - six of coins - nine of cups

“only love” by ben howard started playing when i started writing, and i feel like that’s how this connection feels like! this is someone new in your life, and your day to day will start to feel like this song. with the hanged man opening this reading i feel like this is someone who came in to change your perspective and opinions about love, and even about self love - but this card also tells you to be patient and advises not to rush into new relationships without being sure first, as not everyone will fit you. love is definitely on the horizon, just wait for it to come to you, as someone who is willing to listen to you and that will offer you all the attention you need is on the way. the six of pentacles here is asking you to give without expecting anything back, it advises you to be generous with yourself and the universe will be generous to you as well! a strong connection is coming 

when i asked about this person i got the five of coins, so this is probably someone who has gone through hard times and knows that feeling cared for is important. this is someone who has dark eyes, probably darker skinned as well. 

when i asked for timing, i saw that the winter time may be of significance, but this still may take a while to come to you. 

#pile 3

two of swords - ace of cups - six of coins - queen of swords - five of swords

wow, you may be indecisive regarding a relationship or taking a new step into a relationship, and you may be looking for advice. i think that this relationship has a great potential of being a safe space, somewhere you’ll feel loved and supported. you may be indecisive because you don’t want to lose your independence - but your partner understands how that is important to you and will respect it. there’s an emphasis on the important of communication, as you may have problems due to a lack of it, and what i see here is that you’re struggling to make things official because you’re afraid - talk to them! have the scary conversation. they understand. 

when i asked about appearance i got the emperor, which makes me think this is a person who has a lot of authority. i also think they’re someone with dark eyes but lighter hair. 

timing wise, regarding having a conversation or taking a new step, i’d say something will shift within the next ten days or the next two weeks. 

#pile 4

three of coins - three of wands - six of cups - king of coins - page of wands

i think someone you’ve had a crush on has looked your way! someone you’ve liked for a while is now noticing you in a romantic light, or maybe someone you tried to have a relationship with in the past is back. whoever this person is, they’re not 100% committed to you, they want to be your one and only. you may feel sparks, have a lot of passion and fun with this person, but you need to avoid being clingy or too jealous of this person, reminding you both how everyone needs space. the three of wands is an amazing card here, as it shows you good luck on your romantic choices. 

i think this person takes a great care of their appearance, especially their hair. 

i think this is going to become official in a few month, maybe around pisces season.

hope you enjoyed reading!

[mlyscha]

↳ DO YOU FEEL... BONITA? ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. in which you replace their chap-stick for a red lipstick. the question is: do they feel bonita? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader. 𝓰enre. fluff, crack, kind of suggestive at jay's part, trendy. 𝔀arnings. curse words, mention of having a period, mentions of food, riki's kind of mean? , not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 2k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: this scenario ended up being super basic, i feel bad for you guys (๑-﹏-๑) i haven't been really active, so i wanted to post something decent, but... i don't know, you guys tell me if this one wasn't the greatest lol also, i wanted to share a new word i learned a few days ago: therefore! now you might even see this word being casually used on my writings ><

― 𝓱eeseung: suspects... a lot.

"babe, are you leaving already?" you pouted, watching him picking up his wallet and checking his phone; expecting a text from enha's group-chat. "yeah, i'm actually running late," he chuckled. "they arrived?! 'kay, a kiss for you miss, before i'm gone." he kisses your lips and heeseung notices your nose scrunched. "what?" seeing him frown, you decide it was the perfect chance for you to hand him your special chap-stick. "your lips are kind of crusty, here," you notice an even more confused face expression coming from him. "what do you mean... crusty?" "just apply it! it'll surely make it better!" you explain, making him sigh and finally apply the red lipstick all over his lips - making him look like a clown. "okay, can i go now, princess?" you nod and he smiles, giving you a small peck before finally leaving.

an hour later you heard the door being snapped open, and that's when you knew: heeseung learned about the lipstick. "y/n! why would you do this?!" a sudden shout echoed through the walls of your shared home. "heeseung? baby?" you appeared, coming out of the kitchen with a mischievous grin. "what happened?" you asked, holding a innocent voice. "what have you done to my lips, y/n?!" his face expression was a mix of embarrassment and worry. "what do you mean? you look-" you let out a stifled laugh. "fine! you look fine!" "baby, no way this" he points to his red stained lips. "looks fine! the boys started to laugh at me and i didn't know why! even riki made fun of me!" your boyfriend whined with embarrassment. "now i know why the waiter started to look at me with a funny face..." "i still think you look handsome with your red lips." "IT'S RED LIPSTICK?!"

long story short: heeseung couldn't trust when you gave him a chap-stick EVER. he always makes sure to check the colour of it and even learned a trick to double check it: by pulling you for a kiss. and what can i say... you may have been caught a few many times.

― 𝓳ongseong: couldn't care less.

you were brave enough to make your boyfriend apply chap-stick while going out on a date night with him. in the car you told him his lips were looking kind of dry, and knowing where and how this night could turn out, he immediately took the chap-stick you handed him, applying all over his lips ― with abundance, highlighting even more the red lipstick you purposely replaced. arriving at the front, jongseong handed the valet parking his car keys, entering the restaurant with you. when both of you walked into the place, the waitress who works at the front door couldn't stop staring at your boyfriend; and you swear that if he wasn't wearing such an scandalous colour of lipstick you would assume she was flirting with jongseong.

anyway, after some good wine and a delicious meal course, you were sat beside jongseong, half of your back was falling to his side ― close to his chest. meanwhile, his arm was hugging your shoulder while holding your right hand, a romantic and intimate position to stay. your boyfriend would place kisses onto your forehead. during this whole intimate moment, you decided to make him apply more lipstick since it was fading. however, after a few minutes, you realised he won't notice it, so you took matters to your own hands, pulling your phone from your purse and asking for a picture. agreeing, you opened the camera app, revealing his subtle red lips.

"what is this on my lips?" he gently touched his lips. "what do you mean?" you turned your head to look at him, pretending to be curious. "sweetheart, what have you done?" jongseong asks you with a small grin, dropping his head to the side, shooting you heart eyes. you chuckle, amused. "i didn't do anything," you shrug. "you may have kissed the waitress, she is wearing red lipstick." he laughs out loud, leading to a few confused sights laying on both of you. "this red lipstick might stain your lips soon..." he whispers against your lips. "i can't take you seriously right now!" you giggle and he smirks, amused.

― 𝓳aeyun: "your daddy feels bonita, layla"

jaeyun enjoys going out for a walk with his daughter: layla. and usually, both of you go out together, and this time couldn't be different. however, the only difference this time was your boyfriend's red stained lips. you told him, while walking, that you've been using this new chap-stick and commenting on how much your lips have looked and felt more hydrated ― even jaeyun agreed. therefore, you pulled the famous chap-stick out of your jean's pocket and handed him, making him a bit startle from the way you casually pulled it out of your pocket right after finishing talking about it. you noticed he pondered a bit before applying it all over his lips. you smiled while he was doing so, finding this situation amusingly cute. he smacked his lips together, commenting after a surprised hum: "it's actually good, i can already feel my lips hydrated!"

layla began to feel tired, so did you and jaeyun, so, spotting a bench nearby, you sat beside your boyfriend while layla sat on the floor. and if this couldn't get better, your little family stopped at a crowded park, so as people passed by, jaeyun couldn't be ignored. "babe, why's there so many people staring at me? even girls! don't they see i am taken?!" he complained while pouting, hugging your arm. "right baby?- why are you laughing?" he frowned, even more confused when he saw you taking a sneaky picture of him. suddenly, a kid shouts: "look, mum! a clown!" the mum stares at you, at your daughter and then at your boyfriend, and she were clearly holding herself and not burst out of laughter. layla begins to woof at the kid, and you say: "calm down, baby, your daddy feels bonita, layla." "what does this even means-"

minutes later he discovered what that meant. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

― 𝓼unghoon: he has a convenience store phobia now.

you were craving something sweet in the middle of the night since your period has started, so you asked you gently asked your boyfriend to go to the convenience store for you and buy you a sweet treat. sunghoon, feeling a bit upset, agreed, since he felt afraid you wouldn't be able to feel better soon. with that, he covered himself with warm coats as you told him so. however, before he left you told your boyfriend to apply some chap-stick ― telling him the cold weather could break his lips. he simply nodded, asking you to apply it for him and you did it perfectly ― since he were sweet for going to the convenience store for you under the cold weather and at night. you stole a kiss from him before he was gone, trying your best to quickly turn your face away from him because your lips might have been stained by the colour of his.

"i am never coming back to that convenience store ever again." "oh, hey, baby," "y/n, why does my lips look red?!" sunghoon questioned with terror. "what do you mean?" you dropped your head to the side, faking a confused feeling. "y/n, the cashier was looking at me funny and even an old lady was staring at me like i was crazy!" your boyfriend explained, holding two plastic bags full of your sweet treats. "and then, i could not notice them staring at me, so the moment i stepped out of that place i pulled my phone and checked myself and i saw this... i mean, there were many reasons why they could be staring at me, and usually is because i am handsome, not this!" he points to his face entirely. you giggled as you felt his desperation. "you are so cute, i love you, even with your red lipstick." you kiss him on the cheek. "i am killing myself." he says with the most serious face ever, plopping on the sofa. "well... more chocolates for me." you shrug.

― 𝓼unoo: silly lovers hehe.

you watched this trend of replacing chap-stick for lipstick go viral everywhere, so you decided to try it out with your boyfriend. so, when both of you were sat on the sofa, you asked him for a kiss, and when he gave you one, you scrunched your nose and commented: "your lips are dry, let me get you a chap-stick!" he frowned, knowing that his lip care routine is amazing. but anyway, he couldn't reply it to you since you were already gone picking up that chap-stick. you came back holding it in your hand and sitting back on the sofa. "okay, mind if i apply it?" you asked him that because the lipstick's stick is bright red and it was way too obvious. also! you knew about sunoo's lip care routine and knew he was already suspecting something. "okay, go ahead..."

after you applied it, you quickly closed the chap-stick's cap, however, sunoo saw the bright red colour peaking out for a few seconds, frowning before bursting out of laughter. "what was that?!" he asked between cute giggles and a big cheeky grin. "what?" you tried to hold a smile from spreading across your face, but a small giggle came out of you. "why was the chap-stick red?" "i-it's because it is cherry flavoured, dummy!" you explained, but sunoo side eyed you, not believing in it. therefore, he rubs his index finger over his bottom lip and confirms: it was indeed red lipstick. "y/n!" he amusingly screams your name, making you run across the whole living room, before he caught you and forces you to apply it too. sunoo might even take a picture of both of you just sharing his funny moment >_<.

― 𝓳ungwon: finds out alone because his qi is 200+

it was saturday and usually, when jungwon has some free time, he enjoys going out with you and spoil you ― since he could spend time with you, gifting you things and making you happy. however, you wanted to play with your boyfriend before leaving, so, you handed him your special chap-stick and told him that it was a brand you really liked ― and he made sure to note that. jungwon applied it innocently, not waiting for anything special. smacking his lips together, he held your hand and took his car keys, driving you to the mall. entering the air-conditioned surroundings, you told your boyfriend you wanted to go get some ice cream before visiting the stores ― just to see how the cashier would react; and their reaction couldn't be more accurate: discreet giggles and a smirk were noticeable.

"babe, why was that guy laughing at us? do i have something on my face?" poor baby, you wanted to tell him YES! straight ahead, but you knew this was way too good to give up. so you just shook your head, leaving the kitten with a question mark sat on his head. while walking past the mall stores, you remembered you were running out of skin care products. therefore, you went to sephora to buy them. but, during your search, jungwon was looking around the store when he came across an isle with lipsticks displayed. he frowned when the same chap-stick packaging he saw earlier was saying it was a red lipstick. suddenly, he felt someone nudging him, so he turned to see he was it. "looking at our red lipstick collections?" a lady who looked like she worked there asked, and jungwon's frown just deepened. "um... red?" "yes! looks like you are wearing it on your lips at the moment, isn't it great?"

"babe, do you think i should get this vanilla one or this- ... oh, you found out... heh..." "y/n!"

― 𝓻iki: when they go low, i go lower.

since riki was messing up with you regularly, you decided to have your sweet revenge by making him wear a beautiful red lipstick! so you replaced the chap-stick for a lipstick and before he went to practice, you told him it was cold outside and his lips might dry a little bit faster. even though you were the one applying it, riki was insisting it was fine before giving in and letting you do whatever. you made sure to make it pretty much uneven and smudged to mess up with him even more. you gave his cheek a little kiss before waving him goodbye. the last thing you know was that your boyfriend arrived home pissed off, saying that the boys were making fun of him during practice. and you might wonder: how he didn't notice since a practice room has a literal mirror wall?! because, you know how much riki likes his hoodies? so, his hoodie's hood was covering his face almost completely! however, he noticed a few minutes into practice after one of the members point out and he finally realises.

after that day, riki's mind have been trying to come out with a worse prank for weeks. he knew that you were going to hang out with your friends the next day, so he decided to, after you were fast asleep, he would sneakily draw and write ridiculous things on your face and somehow try to convince you that he could do your make-up. surprisingly, you woke up the next day in a good mood and already forgetting about that prank you did with your boyfriend, you accepted it ― and of course he pretended to do it. when you left to hang out with your friends, not even five minutes passed by and you were already texting riki, saying that you were going to kill him ― and even sending a picture of your face, texting a hundred question marks.

riki were only forgiven because he got your favourite food that day, otherwise... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[hard-core-super-star]

brought you together so nice [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader x switch!wanda maximoff

summary: natasha takes care of you until wanda comes back. needless to say, the witch is more than happy about the arrangement you both came up with in her absence.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but even more feelings; mommy + daddy kink; slightly more established dom/dub dynamics; a dash of pet play (as usual); bondage; gagging; soft domme nat + bratty wanda!!!!; vibrator use [R receiving]; praise + degradation + a dash of humiliation; hair pulling; spanking; aftercare

wordcount: 4.1k

a/n: well, well, well...guess who got too attached to another series? yup, me 😅 these two have taken up more of my mind than i originally thought so here is part three of this little series. i don't have a plan to make another full part, but i might mess around and write a few blurbs here and there. we'll see what happens. anyway, thank you for all your support, especially regarding this little series. i'm thinking of opening my requests back up until the start of the new year so keep an eye out for that ;) [commissions are still more than welcome, though!] okay, i'll stop rambling for now, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Natasha could be sweet when she wanted to.

That was the first thing you learned after agreeing to become her and Wanda's submissive. 

The rules and details weren't too clear yet, the redhead promising to answer all your questions as soon as the Sokovian came back from her mission. Still, she did what she could to fill in the gaps of your knowledge, allowing you to ask her as many questions as you pleased before showing you, in great detail, what she meant.

Despite the cold exterior you'd learned to love, she was much softer with you than you'd ever imagined. Sure, she was still a mean domme at heart, but she wanted to show you heights of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

And she went to great lengths to guarantee it.

It quickly became clear to you how much she loved impact play. Even outside of play sessions, she would always come up behind you, landing a hard smack to your ass before pulling you into her arms. You didn't mind, even when she did it in front of the others.

(Although Tony did whistle at you guys once and promptly earned himself a punch to the stomach. He laughed it off but made sure to never tease the Widow about her behavior with you again.)

You knew there were a lot of things you didn't know or fully understand, but Natasha always seemed to find a way to make you feel more excited than nervous about it. It was almost funny how quickly her personality changed once she allowed you to see past her walls.

Sure, she was still a little mean and more than a little snarky (which is exactly how you liked her, if you were being honest) yet there was a softer, affectionate, side that started coming out more and more.

She told you it was simply because Wanda wasn't around and she wasn't allowed to "break you in" without her around. Maybe it was a silly excuse perfectly crafted to keep you on your toes, but you didn't really mind.

Well, except because you really missed Wanda.

Being without the witch was harder than you thought it would be, but the Widow kept you busy enough to forget the empty spot beside you in their bed.

Your bed.

That was the second thing Natasha made you learn. 

Yes, you were technically an addition to their relationship, but you weren't an outsider. You never were.

That was the third thing you learned.

Both Natasha and Wanda had their eyes on you from the very beginning. They loved each other, and their relationship made them happier than they could put into words, and yet they always felt something was missing. A third energy to keep them in check. To stop them from getting too rough, too mean with each other. To help remember how to be soft after spending so much time fighting with the world.

It was...strange, but you couldn't deny what they meant to you. The attraction you felt toward them had always been there and after Wanda opened that door...well, let's just say there was no going back.

You didn't understand how real that was until now.

Because somehow, someway, after carrying guilt you didn't even need to have in the first place, you were here.

You were theirs.

You were waking up in their bed with Natasha's arms wrapped tight around your waist.

A shudder ran down your body as the redhead's lips met your bare shoulder, peppering kisses across the skin. "Morning, detka. Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you reply as a smile forms on your face. "You're a fantastic cuddler."

"Shut up," she mumbles. There's a clear lack of annoyance in her words despite her attempts at sounding tough. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your grip on me begs to differ."

At your response, her hands move to grip your waist, her nails digging into your soft skin. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching almost instantly. You can feel the redhead smiling against your skin. It hasn't been that long and she already knows your body better than you do.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" She says, taking advantage of your reactions to grind against your ass. "You seem a little distracted."

 It's a bit of a cruel game but it's one she loves to play with you. Truth be told, she loves playing with you, period. You're so different from Wanda, so much more responsive, more honest about your constant neediness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, not so subtly grinding back against her.

Just because you were slowly learning the rules regarding your place didn't mean you didn't love pushing Natasha's buttons whenever you could. Which really only happened in the mornings and during aftercare. Those were the only two moments when the older woman allowed herself to be soft with you, to let you see behind the walls she'd expertly put up to keep everyone out. Everyone except you and Wanda, it seems.

Her voice remains low, straddling the border between a tease and a warning. "Is my good girl trying to be a brat?"

Your heart skips a beat at her words. At the mention of being her good girl. Of being hers.

After the rough beginning your relationship had, you never thought you'd be let into her heart in any way. And yet here you are. You're her good girl, her kitten, her darling submissive.

"No..." You trail off, trying to decide whether to behave or push her buttons a little more. Ultimately, your desire to be a little shit wins out. "...Daddy."

Natasha chuckles behind you, her hands moving from your hips and toward your breasts. She gives them a soft squeeze as her thumbs tease your hardening nipples. "Oh, kotenok, you woke up cheeky this morning, huh? You know what mouthing off like that will earn you, right?"

You do know. She's told you many, many times before, usually while she's praising you for being so good for her and drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated body.

However, she's never actually acted out any of her warnings. It's a good thing, you know that, and yet you can't stop yourself from wanting to see what it will feel like. To explore what that kind of submission will do to you.

"Yes, Daddy. I know."

She hums before going right back to kissing across your shoulders, nipping at your skin just to get you to arch into her teasing hands. "I see...you want to be punished, don't you? Want Daddy to remind you of your place until there's nothing else inside your mind?"

You're about to reply when you're interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff has asked me to notify you of her return."

Your cheeks flush, even though the disembodied voice can't see what exactly you're up to this morning. At the very least, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a lot less nosy than Jarvis ever was. Although, if you're being honest, you liked him better before he turned into a robot.

"I'm assuming she'll be at the Medbay for a while?" The Widow replies, her mind no doubt full of the things she'll do to you to pass the time.

"Yes, it seems she'll be there for the next half hour."

"Good. Thank you, Friday."

The AI doesn't reply and you can practically imagine her making a swift exit out of the room, leaving you to face whatever it is that the redhead has come up with.

"y/n..." Natasha purrs, her breath hot against your ear. "I have an idea. Why don't we give Mommy a nice surprise, hmm? Don't you want to be her pretty welcome back gift?"

You're not sure what being Wanda's "welcome back gift" will entail, but you can't deny your curiosity about it. Especially since the witch has no idea what you and her girlfriend have been up to. You have no doubt she has her suspicions, she is a mind reader after all, but it'll still be nice to surprise her.

You agree before you even know what you're doing, and Natasha wastes no time in springing into action.

In a matter of minutes, you go from lying comfortably under the covers to being spread out on your back, your limbs tied to each corner of the bed. You're exposed, vulnerable, and you love every second of it.

Of course, Natasha isn't satisfied with that. No, to top off the pretty sight you make, she places a deep, dark red ball gag between your lips. You shouldn't be surprised since, after all, you did ask for it.

"There we go," the redhead hums appreciatively, her eyes taking in the beautiful sight. "Now, just sit tight, okay, detka? I'll be right back."

You whine instantly, but she pays no mind to you, quickly making her way out of the bedroom and going to look for Wanda. You're not exactly happy about being left alone yet, there's nothing you can do. All you can do is throw your head back in frustration and wait for your lovers to return.

You're not sure how much time goes by, although there's no doubt in your mind that Natasha does her best to draw out their return just to mess with you, but eventually, they make their way back to you.

The sound of the door opening makes you practically vibrate with excitement, your hips wiggling from side to side without thinking.

"Well, would you look at that," Wanda says as she steps further into the room. "Looks like someone was having fun without me."

Natasha follows her in, standing behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. There's something so domestic about the action that makes your heart clench.

"I had to get her ready for you, darling," the redhead replies as her chin finds the other woman's shoulder. "She looks good, doesn't she?"

"She sure does. I take it you worked out your issues?"

"We came to an...agreement, yes. I couldn't let you have all the fun."

Wanda chuckles, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a fond smile. There's no mistaking the fire in her eyes, though, the desire simmering below the surface. "And you said I was crazy for wanting her to join us."

The Widow grumbles, clearly not quite ready to admit her girlfriend was right. "You're still not off the hook, you let her believe you cheated on me."

"When are you going to let that go?"

"I'm not sure, maybe you should make it up to me."

Natasha's eyes remain on you but Wanda turns around, silencing her girlfriend's complaints with a fiery kiss. All you can do is watch, feeling left out and far too involved at the same time. You're slowly getting used to their competitive antics.

Their kisses turn desperate in nothing short of a few seconds, leaving you far too desperate and needy while you squirm around on the bed. They take their sweet time getting back to you, though, instead letting their hands wander over each other's bodies.

You'd love to complain but you're still gagged so talking is pretty much impossible. More than that...you can't say you're not loving the view. It makes you feel a little dirty, like you're watching an intimate scene you shouldn't be, and it brings a rush unlike anything you've ever felt before.

They know, because of course they know, and your obvious arousal only motivates them to tease you.

Natasha moves first, expert hands reaching for the hem of Wanda's shirt and lifting it over her head in an instant. "I missed you."

"Are you talking to me or my boobs?" The witch replies with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"I'm talking to all of you."

"Nice save, 'Tasha."

"Shut up."

There's something comforting about the scene in front of you, even as your frustration builds. You've been with them before, but it's different this time. You can feel the change in energy, the easy chemistry that flows between all of you now that Natasha isn't trying to push you away.

"Come on, I think we've teased our good girl long enough," Wanda says, taking the redhead's hand and leading her toward the bed. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're feeling a little frustrated, hmm?"

You nod desperately in response, tugging at the rope that holds you down. Your actions only make both of your lovers chuckle.

"Look at her, she's drenched and we haven't gotten started yet," Natasha comments, her eyes trailing up and down your body like a predator assessing its prey.

"I'm guessing this means training's going well."

"She's a quick learner. A bit bratty sometimes, though."

The way they talk about you as if you're not a part of the conversation has you clenching around pure air. It doesn't help that the Widow is so accurate in her assessment of you. You love being submissive, being under their control, but you can't deny how much fun it is to disobey. To push against the boundaries she's set for you, not to defy her but to tease her. Maybe even test her a little.

It's far too fun.

"Is that right, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, even though your body language makes it clear how correct Natasha is. "I thought you liked being our good girl. Because if you don't, well...you know what happens to naughty girls, don't you?"

Of course you know. It was one of the first things the redhead taught you. Sure, the rules and terms weren't too fleshed out yet since Natasha had wanted her girlfriend to be a part of the whole exchange, but she'd gone over most things with you. Rewards, punishments, hard limits, all that stuff.

You're unable to tell the witch that, though, thanks to the gag in your mouth. Your incoherent mumbles seem to entertain her for a few seconds while Natasha sneaks off toward their closet.

Wanda's chuckle cuts through the air. Your attempts at convincing her you've been good clearly amuse her. "I know, baby, I know you like being good. Otherwise, Nat wouldn't be so attached to you."

"I'm not attached," the redhead grumbles.

A month ago, her words would have made your heart drop into your stomach. Now, though, you know she's only playing a part. She has no problem telling you how she feels outside of a scene, but when you're playing, when you're being their pet, she's right back to being mean. Right back to degrading you and humiliating you until you're riding the edge of pleasure and pain.

"Keep telling yourself that, darling."

"Oh, I will."

Their banter is borderline comforting. You've loved spending time with Natasha, but this, being with them and seeing their personalities come together, this is where you thrive.

Well, it's not like you're doing much. Then again, they like you most when you're like this. Vulnerable, at their mercy, and so obviously loving every second of it.

Wanda climbs onto bed with you, crawling over your body until she's hovering over you with a gentle smile that steals all your worries away. "'Tasha's such a liar, isn't she, sweetheart? It's okay, let her act like she's the big bad."

You want to laugh, but it's a little hard when she's leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face. The action is far softer than what you were expecting and it makes your heart soar.

You were ready for a rougher training session, for a trial run meant to show you what you had been missing in the witch's absence. But this? This is really good too.

Wanda continues her loving assault on your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw and toward your neck. You tilt your head back in response, earning a soft giggle muffled against your skin, as she kisses and nibbles all up and down your throat. There's no doubt in your mind that she's littering your skin with hickies and noticeable marks, but you find you really don't mind it.

The witch steals your attention long enough for Natasha to gather a few supplies before making her way over to you. You feel her set a few things down next to you, but you don't get to see what they are. Not that you really mind considering how busy your mind is.

"Stop hogging her attention, that's not very fair."

"It's not my fault you left her so fuzzy-headed. Poor girl didn't even stand a chance, huh?"

You shake your head, a few muffled whines making their way out of you.

Natasha chuckles as she shifts onto her knees next to you. Her hands find their way between you and Wanda's bodies, teasing your skin as she explores the territory she's spent the past few days claiming.

"Oh, please. This is nothing. You should've seen the state she was in last night."

The reminder makes you squirm in your restraints, trying to get closer to them to no avail. You know how desperate you look, how absolutely needy you are, but you can't find it in yourself to care. This is what you had been waiting for. To be completely theirs. To surrender to them and accept everything they were willing to give you. Sure, it was intimidating and yet it felt incredibly right.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Wanda responds, working her way down your body, expertly avoiding the areas where her girlfriend is touching you.

"You deserve it. Wasn't this your fantasy?"

"Maybe. It was hers first, though. Isn't that right, detka?"

The change in topic makes you blush. It shouldn't be surprising to hear that the witch had already known about your feelings for her but it's still a little embarrassing. At least she seems to enjoy it.

You nod, your movements slightly frantic and no doubt fueled by the feeling of her lips on your flushed skin. She takes her time dragging her lips up and down your inner thighs as Natasha teases your hardening nipples.

"Such a good little slut. I bet you're already so fuzzy. Just want your cunt played with and nothing else." The redhead distracts you with her words, leaving you completely unprepared for Wanda's continued assault.

You don't hear the thrumming sound of the vibrator coming to life, but you sure feel it against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders in response as your hips buck in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation.

Your reaction makes the witch laugh and she leans down to press a few more kisses to your thighs. "There you go, that's what I like to see."

Her words feel more like humiliation than praise and yet you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when it feels so good that it borders on painful.

"Excuse you, we were having a little chat." Natasha's tease is coupled with a firm grip in your hair as she tilts your head toward her. "I'll have to train you if you don't fix that attention span, pet."

"Be nice, Nat, it's not her fault she likes me more."

"God, you're such a brat, Maximoff." Her free hand leaves your body to land a sharp smack against Wanda's ass. "I'll put you in your place too, if I have to."

The witch hums in response, very clearly pushing herself back against the redhead's hand. "You know I'd enjoy it."

Natasha spanks her again and the sight has you bucking your hips faster as you search for more pleasure. You let out a string of whines, already feeling yourself on the edge of an orgasm. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're reaching your limit but in your defense, you've been worked up ever since you woke up. You were bound to lose from the beginning.

"Don't tell me you want to cum already, sweetheart? We've barely gotten started."

You want to defend yourself, but your attempts are instant failures. Natasha seems to get off on how pathetic you sound, though.

"It's alright, kitten, why don't you go ahead and cum for me? Mommy hasn't earned her reward just yet."

Wanda opens her mouth to object but she doesn't get very far since the redhead goes right back to spanking her.

You're not used to seeing the witch in a slightly more submissive position. She always seem to straddle the border between being fully in control and immersed below Natasha's dominance. This change of pace is more than welcome, though.

The vibrator gets pushed harder against your sensitive clit and the pressure sends you over the edge almost instantly. You don't get a chance to warn them, all you can do is give in to the sudden pleasure as your body trembles beneath them.

They're both distracted by the sight of your orgasm crashing into you so suddenly. So beautifully.

"What a good girl," Natasha murmurs appreciatively. "You could learn a thing or two from her, Wands."

"Whatever." You miss the way the witch rolls her eyes since your eyes are more than a little blurry and there's a soft ringing in your ears. "It won't be my fault when she forgets her place, Daddy."

That earns her another spank, but she's too busy moving the vibrator away from your drenched cunt to care. You whine softly at the loss of contact even though you feel far too sensitive to take much more.

Apparently, you look as out of it as you feel because the older women take a few moments to let you catch your breath.

Wanda's hands gently stroke up and down your legs to keep you grounded while Natasha shifts closer, her hands reaching out to undo the ballgag. "How are you feeling, kotenok? Do you want to keep going?"

Your throat's a little dry, but you manage to form a reply. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath."

The Widow nods before reaching over to grab the bottled water on the nightstand. She helps you take a few sips of water while Wanda continues to caress your skin, both giving you as much time as you need to recover. It's such a small thing and yet it's a reminder of why you're so attached to them. Why you need them more and more with every day that goes by.

Your relationship with them might have had a bit of a rough start, but you couldn't imagine a better outcome. Couldn't imagine two better people to surrender your heart to.

"Someone's in a romantic mood," Wanda pipes up with a soft smile.

Her words cause an instant response in you and you feel your face grow warmer by the second. "Why are you in my mind right now?"

"Because your thoughts about me are so loud," she replies almost instantly. "Don't look so embarrassed, detka, I think it's cute."

"Shut up," you mumble, momentarily forgetting where you are and what you're in the middle of doing.

Wanda's smile turns slightly dark and her hand comes down against your thigh before you can even think about what you did wrong. "Where'd your manners go, huh?"

The sensation makes you shiver, but Natasha reaches a hand out to stop the witch from smacking your thigh again. "Time out, darling. I don't think we're quite ready to keep going."

You want to argue with her and yet you make no real effort to. As much as you might want to keep going, you can't deny how overwhelming it all was...and how desperate you are for some cuddles.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Wanda instantly shushes you as she uses her magic to undo the restraints keeping you tied down. "Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for."

The second your limbs are free, Natasha's hands are on you again. This time, though, she merely maneuvers you onto your side so she's able to slide in behind you. The second her arms wrap around your waist, your shoulders let go of the tension they've been holding. 

Wanda wastes no time in joining the two of you, laying down in front of you and reaching up to play with your hair. "Just relax, we have all day to pick up where we left off."

"Don't rush her, little witch."

Natasha's words make you chuckle and you lean forward until you're practically buried in the witch's chest. "I'm okay, guys. I don't break easily."

A beat of silence goes by as they allow you to soak in the afterglow, in the feeling of their embrace.

But the Widow really can't help herself.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should test that out."

Her words are a tease, but none of you can deny your curiosity...or your arousal.

Needless to say, you spend most of the day tangled up in their bed.

Your bed.

With the two women who mean the absolute world to you.

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Part 3: Surprise Guests

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: an unexpected gift from poison ivy leads to a very fun evening tags: teasing, sexual tension, groping, biting, semi-sentient plant based sex toy, size kink rated explicit (mdni)| wc: 2.8k a/n: uhhh probably the closest i've ever gotten to writing tentacle porn. if harley and ivy feel a bit ooc, that's because it's my first time writing them so please be nice.

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Jay’s heart is in her throat. She doesn’t think she’s been this scared since Ethiopia, since Joker. But it’s not for herself this time, no this time her nerves are shredded for you.

Harley and Ivy had broken out of Arkham again. Usually Jay wouldn’t care; they’re usually pretty targeted in their rage these days, Joker and massive conglomerates exclusively, and they’re occasionally down for a team up. No, its where they were sighted that has icy fear clawing up her spine and bile churning in her stomach.

Breaking every traffic law – and a few laws of physics – she races over to your apartment, barely does the minimum of parking her bike before she’s tearing up to your doorstep. The door bangs open and there’s not the carnage she was expecting. Instead you look up at her from your cozy seat on the couch, hands wrapped around a mug, eyes wide with surprise. There’s no screaming or blood on the walls, just the sudden silence of a conversation interrupted. Ivy regards Jay cooly while Harley practically thrums with excitement.

“Shoes, Jay” you remind her, and then she’s toeing off her boots to join the strangest tea party she’s ever been to.

Wary, she sits down next to you, curls a protective arm around your shoulders that you lean into. Steals your cup to sip from it. Never lets her eyes wander from the two most unpredictable elements in the room.

“We’re sorry for dropping by unannounced,” Ivy starts, not sounding very sorry at all. “But–”

“ – but we heard all about Hood’s new puddin’ and just had to come say hello!” interrupts Harley, all sweet giggles and wide smiles.

“Uhuh,” Jay smiles tightly. “Heard from who?”

“Here and there,” Ivy evades. “A guard that’s doing much more good as fertilizer in the gardens.”

You shudder under Jay’s arm, but the welcoming smile on your face never slips.

“Well,” you say, trying to cover up the social faux pas of bringing up murder, “that sounds like a very kind gesture Dr. Isley.”

“Oh Pamela, please,” she insists, primly setting down her empty coffee cup. “It was no trouble at all, some of my darlings were starting to look a little peaky.” Harley giggles.

“So what’s Hoodsy like in bed?” she interjects. “Bet she’s a real firecracker under all that leather!”

Grabbing Jay’s hand in warning before she can do anything rash – like oh, try and bodily haul Harley out the door – you demure.

“Oh she treats me just fine, but I don’t like to kiss and tell.” Gratefully Jay presses a kiss to the top of your head, glaring at Harley all the while.

“Fine? Fine!” She shrieks. “Sugar she should be treatin’ you a lot better than fine! Why if Red didn’t have me screami–”

“Harleen,” Ivy warns her, hand landing heavy on her shoulder.

“I’m happy! Honest, no one’s treated me so good,” you backpedal, suddenly terrified to have put a target on Jay’s back for the perceived crime of not fucking you well enough. Jay bares her teeth and snarls at the insult.

“Really?” Harley perks up. “Well you come let your Auntie Harls know if that ever changes sugar.” Grinning she slurps down the rest of her drink. You squeeze Jay’s thigh in relief. “C’mon Red, present time! Wanna see their faces when they open it,” she says, rubbing her hands together with glee.

With a heavy sigh, Ivy uncrosses her legs and pulls a box out from under the couch. Jay twitches at the detail she didn’t notice.

“A small gift, a congratulations to you both,” she says.

With trepidation, you open the lid of the box, terrified something is going to snap at your fingers. Inside you find another box, this one a clear plastic half-filled with water. What looks like a fat green vine, curved gently like a c-shape, bobs in the water. Confused, you look back up at Dr. Isley – no Pamela – and force a smile.

“It’s– um it’s a lovely gift,” you tell her. “What is it exactly?”

“A cutting from one of my darlings,” she says easily and Jay’s back goes ramrod straight. “Nothing deadly, just– curious. It likes dark, wet places the best, will do anything to ensure optimal conditions.” 

“You shove it up your cunt and it fucks you by itself,” Harley interjects at your blank looks, still smiling sunnily.

Wide eyed you choke on your own spit. Jay closes the lid of the box and places it on the coffee table.

“Really? You break out of Arkham to deliver a sex toy that I have to water and take care of?” she grumbles.

“Awww honey, we just wanted you to be happy,” Harley coos, and it might be the most genuine thing she’s said all evening.

“Besides, it’s only a cutting and it doesn’t do well in overly acidic environments,” Ivy adds. “It should die off after being doused in a significant amount of vaginal secretions.”

“Okay, yep, that’s not helping.” Jay says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We really do have to get going, the Bats can be so annoyingly dogged in their pursuit,” Ivy says, getting up to leave and herding Harley to the door.

“Be seein’ you Hoodsy!” Harley calls just as the door closes.

Shell-shocked by the unexpected visitors and their horribly personal gift, the two of you just stare at each other in silence.

“D’you think we should–” you start to ask.

“Nope,” Jay interjects, immediately fleeing the room.

Jay doesn’t see the two Rogues again for weeks, their little gift hidden at the back of the closet. Sometimes in the dark of the night Jay swears she can hear faint splashing sounds but the weird plant is always still when she checks on it. Obviously it’s not just a fun little toy because it’s been specifically designed to make her question her sanity.

When she does run into them next, Ivy’s in the middle of using her plants to destroy the company that had just won the city’s latest infrastructure bid, Harley squealing and swinging her hammer with a joyful fury. Rolling her eyes, Jay dodges another one of Harley’s blows as she cackles.

“Hiya Hoodsy! Long time no see,” Harley quips. Jay groans and rolls away just as the hammer smashes the pavement where she had been standing.

“Harley. Not satisfied with just tearing up the streets, you had to stop them from getting repaired too?” Jay yells back.

“Sorry sugar, this one’s all Red’s.” Harley shrugs, then dodges Jay’s fist. “Hey! Speakin’ of sugar, did yours like the present?”

Dick finally has the good sense to show up and electrocutes her with one of his escrima sticks.

“Dunno,” Jay says as Dick starts to handcuff her. “Hasn’t been high on my list of my priorities.”

“Aww,” Harley pouts, seemingly unbothered by her incarceration. “Red’s gonna be so sad.”

“Fine! Fine!” Jay shouts, realizing that having a pissed-off Ivy gunning for her over a sex toy is not how she wants to go out a second time. “We’ll give you guys a yelp review or something. Happy?”

Harley nods happily as Dick drags her away and oh Jay’s not gonna like having to explain to everyone what ‘gift’ she’d been babbling about.

Bruce approaches Jay as soon as they get back to the batcave and Jay can’t even look him in the eyes as she spits out, “Yes, Ivy gave me a gift. No, I’m not telling you what it is but it’s not malicious and can’t be used in the commission of a crime. That’s all I’m saying and for both of our sanities, do not go digging.”

He grunts, and Jay chooses to interpret it as agreement. For her own sanity. Because the thought of her pseudo father finding out that a couple of his sworn enemies had gifted her a semi-sentient sex toy and that Jay had just agreed to use it on her girlfriend to prevent a grudge with said enemies? Yeah, Jay’d prefer to be dead and buried before entertaining that thought and its ramifications.

Jay’s weirdly nervous when she gets home. It’s not that she thinks you’d be against trying something new, more that she’d agreed without talking to you first. And while she’d be happy to try it out solo and lie through her teeth to Ivy and Harley, she’s also kind of shocked to find out just how much she wants to watch you get fucked. Intimately.

So it’s with a dry mouth that she climbs into bed with you and slips an arm around your middle. Covers the back of your neck and the hinge of your jaw in kisses to rouse you from your slumber. You blink sleep thick eyes back at her, press the lines of your body back into her solid warmth.

“Hey baby girl,” she whispers in between kisses. “You up for me?” You nod and take her fingers into your mouth. Suckle at them and get her knuckles all wet. Jay groans and rests her head against your spine. “Ran into Harley today,” she tells you and you stiffen. “Wanted to know how Ivy’s present was.” Your mouth parts and Jay lets her fingers fall from it.

“Does that– does that mean we can try it out now?” you ask in a small voice, still not looking her in the eye.

“Do you want to?” Jay asks, arm tightening around your waist. You nod, body curling into her. “I’ll go find the box then.”

She said it like she hasn’t known exactly where it’s been hiding with laser precision. Like she hasn’t woken up to half melted dreams of your coming around it as she holds your hand and soothes you. Carefully, she sets the box on the bedside table, turns to see you on top of the covers and already undressed, nervous in your excitement.

She leans down and kisses you, licks into your mouth until you’re panting and whining under her. Nips at your lip and withdraws with a grin. Makes you wait as she sheds her own clothes before climbing into bed with you. Smoothes a hand down your bare side as she kisses at your throat, has you grabbing at her hair to bring her mouth down lower. Jay bites a bruise into the soft swell of your breast as you whine, sneaks a hand down between your legs and finds you already dripping. Laves at a nipple with broad flat of her tongue as she starts teasing you with her fingers. It’s only when you’re clenching down around her, hips chasing after her hand does she stop. Reaches with a blind hand for the box and grasps the wet vine in her fist. Kisses your bitten lips before resting her forehead against yours to watch.

Asks, “You ready?” while you babble your agreement. Notches the wet, slimy head of it to your entrance and pushes. Swallows your gasps and moans as your cunt devours it, hard knots and clipped off shoots scraping at your tender walls. You shudder as she slides more in, stopping just before the turning curve of the c. You clench down and the vine protruding out of your hole jerks at the movement. Jay grins and grabs the curve of it, uses it as a handle to pull it out of you and ram it back in, has you slumping over her shoulder and whining weakly as she fucks you with it. Every single bump and bit of texture scrapes you raw, pushes up against those hidden spots inside you that light your nerves on fire. Gasping you come as Jay cruelly hooks the vine into your guts and pulls.

“How was that baby? D’you have fun?” She asks, still fucking into you.

“Feels– feels weird,” you stutter out between heaving breaths, pleasure still thrumming through you. Something’s changed. The vine feels bigger, somehow. It’s not unpleasant, the solid weight of it heavy in your gut. Just...strange.

“Yeah baby? How about I make you feel better then,” she says.

Jay gives your breast an affectionate squeeze before rising up on her knees and settling the other end of the vine at her slick entrance. She grins at you before plummeting down, spearing herself open in a practiced motion. You moan as her movement jostles the fake cock inside of you. Wrap your arms around her waist and hold on for dear life as she starts to fuck herself.

Jay’s a goddamn picture as she rides, neck arched back, eyes screwed up tight. Her tits jiggle as she bounces and you can’t help but give in to the urge to mark them up as they do. Breathily, she moans at the first touch of your mouth. Her back arches with a flexibility you envy, hips swivelling as she grinds down meanly. The long lines of her body shadowed and golden. Every time she bears down, the vine jolts inside of you and you moan, clit pinned beneath the hard surface of it. She groans as she comes, mean and messy in the pursuit of her pleasure. Slowly you limp along behind her in an orgasm of your own as you clench down weakly around the vine.

She’s soft in the aftermath, miles of warm skin holding you close as her breathing starts to even out. Slides a large, calloused hand down your sweaty flank in a soothing gesture. Jay goes to kiss you but her lips never find her target as you jerk back and moan at the sudden sensation of the vine moving on its own inside you.

“Hey– hey what’s wrong,” she asks as she cups your face, fear streaking through her voice. 

“It’s– oooh!” you squeal as it starts to fucking writhe inside of you, gut churning in time with the stretching fullness of it in your cunt. “You don’t– you don’t feel that?” Your hands go vice-like around Jay’s arms. 

“What are you– oh.” You can tell by the way her voice goes thin and breathy that it’s fucking her too now. She bites at the plush of her bottom lip and suddenly you’re jealous of her teeth for getting to dig in there. Surging forward, you clumsily slot your mouth over hers, swallow her little gasping sighs as the vine starts thrusting in you both. The stretch is so unbearably thick now, wider than anything you’d taken before. You can feel your cunt struggling to take it all, the way the vine curls in and around on itself as it tries to get deeper and fails, your wet walls straining and clenching uselessly around it. 

Jay licks and bites at your throat and you know there’ll be a fresh necklace waiting for you tomorrow. Her questing hands find your breasts and you whimper as a callous catches on your nipple. With a hand that no longer feels attached to your body with how clumsy it is, you try to reach between you for your clit. Your hand brushes against the jut of your lower belly and you freeze up before scrambling to pull Jay’s hand to feel too. She groans into your ear at the sensation and you can feel yourself getting wetter around the intruder as she cups your belly. Her hands grope you as the skin under her palms warps, the soft swell of your belly distorted by the vine as it writhes and thrusts, so large you struggle to accommodate it.

She presses your hand to her own belly and you can feel the swell of it too. Smaller than yours, but moving faster, fucking in deeper. Jay’s jaw goes slack and she starts to let out throaty little whines that have you clenching down. Her body is shaking from the force of the vine thrusting in her gut, thighs trembling and eyes bright. She pushes down on your bulging womb just as the vine writhes against your cervix, and that’s all it takes to grab your by your hair and drag you screaming through another orgasm, pleasure blinding and burning bright. You can’t feel your legs when you start to come down, vision spotty and skin so sensitive even the lightest touch feels like being flayed alive. Moaning out garbled sentences, you almost miss Jay as she comes, abs clenching and body lean and long. You do feel her hands scrabbling at your waist as she goes over the edge, anchoring herself to you.

The two of you collapse onto the pillows, chests still heaving. Blindly you reach for her, desperate for the burning heat of her skin on yours. Jay lets you snuggle into her, sticky with sweat and other fluids, as she reaches between you and slowly starts to pull the vine out of you both. It feels smaller than you expected as it slides out wetly, coated in the evidence of your pleasure. You bury your face in her shoulder as she grins down at you, hand sodden around the now brown vine, dead and starting to rot.

“Somebody enjoyed themselves,” she teases you and you swat at her hand in embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t say that like you didn’t have a good time too,” you grumble.

[mooshkat]

i haven't watched the episode. don't really care to. but apparently eddie is looking at houses in el paso?? and i've always related way too much to buck and the way people in his life leave so much so.

listening to 'please don't go' by abbey glover while writing this is devastating btw. highly recommend to add to the hurt.

tw for suicide attempt.

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and then just...doesn't go home. He doesn't think as he drives, taking turns and just alert enough to be safe on the road, but honestly? He has no fucking idea how he ends up in the mountains, parking in the small dirt lot at the end of the hiking trail.

Everything feels numb. Static fills his brain and spreads down his neck, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He turns off the Jeep and takes out the keys. Drops them carelessly into the cup holder.

He should've seen this coming, right? People leave; they always have, and always will. Everyone from his own sister to his ex-girlfriends, and his ex-boyfriend. Now his best friend.

There's just something buried deep into his very being, something built into the coding for Evan Buckley, that makes people leave him. No matter how much he clings and wants to fight for it, they'll walk away from him and his love.

It's him, it has to be.

Buck leaves behind his wallet, his keys, his work bag. Everything is left in the Jeep except for his phone, because no matter how much people leave him with barely a goodbye, it goes against everything that makes Buck, well, Buck to do it himself.

He knows this trail. Tommy and he have been on it before, once or twice after Buck dragged him along with him. They'd stopped at the top, where a small cliff overlooks the beautiful scenery with LA off in the far distance.

He remembers the way Tommy pushed him against a tree and sank to his knees, looking up at Buck with an adorable, bright grin with scrunches up his nose. Buck misses that grin fiercely.

The sun is just beginning to rise as Buck starts his walk. He doesn't go up the mountain with a specific plan in mind, didn't wake up to take Eddie to the airport at four in the morning, and think I'm going to kill myself today, but the higher he gets on the trail, the more he knows.

It's early enough that he has the trail to himself. That's good. It's not, he needs to turn around and go back to the Jeep, go home but his feet keep moving him up, up, up. There's nobody around who will have to see what he's about to do and be traumatized by it.

He's seen more than his share of deaths through work, he knows how badly it can fuck you up. He doesn't want to do that to someone else.

When he gets to the top, Buck stops and just breathes. The air is fresher up here, cleaner. It makes some of the buzzing in his head quiet down. He can feel his fingers again, feel the way his heart pounds from the cardio workout of climbing, and make his hands throb.

He walks to the edge of the cliff and sits down, his feet dangling over the edge. There's a boulder a few feet away from the edge that holds memories of him leaning back against it as Tommy kisses him, holding Buck's hips with hands hot enough to brand him.

His very soul feels branded by Tommy. His chest aches every day, making his stomach sink with a homesick feeling he hasn't had since before he moved to LA. His apartment is still full of the baked goods that he creates every time he has to try to not call or text him.

He doesn't stop himself from calling him today.

Buck almost thinks it's going to go to voicemail before it's picked up at the last second.

"...Go for Kinard?" Tommy answers, clearing his throat. His voice is sleep-rough and deep, and Buck hasn't heard it in so long that it's like applying balm to very shattered, torn edges of a wound. "Hello? Who is–Ev—Buck?"

"Did I ever tell you," Buck starts, and he sounds just as rough, but he's more awake than he ever has been, despite the bone deep tiredness that fills him, "about the fact that I was made to be a savior baby for a brother I never met? My parents made me in a science tube so that they could use my bone marrow to heal my brother, Daniel, but it didn't work. I thought for a little while after I found out that it was because I was defective, but I get it now."

Sheets rustle on the other line before Tommy sits up again. "What are you talking about, Evan? What's wrong?"

Buck continues talking, bowling over Tommy's questions like he didn't hear them. "I think there's something inside of me that's toxic. Toxins drive people away, it makes them sick, it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense for why everybody I love gets sick of me and leaves. It has to be me, right? Nobody stays, not forever. There's something wrong with me and I've finally figured it out."

"No, Evan," Tommy says, voice soft. He can hear the concern, though, the urgency hidden under his tone. There's the sound of jingling keys and a door opening and closing. Tommy's too far away to stop him.

"Sometimes, people leave. It's just what they do, it is nothing about you or what you've done. It's them. Their problems. My problems, that we should–we should sit down and talk about. Evan, where are you? I'm worried."

He almost doesn't want to tell him, but maybe it'd be better for someone to come out and collect his body so he doesn't ruin the trail. Leave it as you found it, or whatever. He gives Tommy his location and ignores the way it starts a mental countdown in the back of his mind. He doesn't have long now.

"It is me, Tommy. I want to believe you, but I can't. Not when hard evidence for almost my entire fucking life says otherwise. My parents emotionally left before I was even born. Maddie. Abby. Other girlfriends. I even lost the 118 at one point–thanks to that stupid mistake with the lawyer. Everybody leaves. And–and now with you, and Eddie. I'm tired, Tommy. I'm so goddamn tired."

Tears drip down Buck's cheeks. It's exhausting, viewing every relationship as a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, waiting for them to exit left out of his life. He thought things might be different with Tommy, it was one of his longest relationships, but he was wrong.

"You know, when you broke up with me that night, you said you'd be my first, but not my last. You were wrong. I-I love you so much, Tommy, even though you broke my heart. I hate you for leaving just like everyone else, but I also love you. You'll always be my first and last now. It's my turn to leave."

"Evan!" Tommy shouts into the phone and Buck cringes. "Evan, please, don't do anything. I'm on my way, okay, baby? Please just sit still and wait for me and we can talk–about everything. Please."

It'd be so easy to lean forward and let gravity do the work to drag him off the edge. The side of the cliff digs into the bottom of his thighs and he kicks his feet, knocking against some of the dirt and watching it tumble down.

His phone starts buzzing insistently in his hand with texts. Tommy must have sent out a message. He doesn't look at any of them as he pulls his phone to set it on Do Not Disturb before putting it to his ear again.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants the hurt to stop, he just wants it all to stop, but he's afraid. What if he's too weak to commit? Just like he's too weak to not let people back into his life, even if he knows they'll just leave again.

Weak and toxic.

He drops his phone onto his lap and hunches down, elbows pressing into his knees as he covers his face. He can hear sirens in the distance getting closer.

A strangled sob rips its way from his throat and he makes his decision.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

There's an audible sigh of relief from Tommy. "Thank you, Evan. I'll be right there, okay? Keep talking to me, baby."

He doesn't know what to say anymore and tells Tommy as much.

"That's okay, Evan. I-I heard from Howie that you were baking lately? What have you been baking?"

Buck knows what's Tommy's doing. He's stalling so that Buck doesn't kill himself before Tommy and the first responders can get to him. He's done it dozens of times before to people on the edge while he's rescuing them.

"A lot of bread, really. Pumpkin bread, banana bread, butternut squash. I even, uh, have a sourdough starter that I've been feeding for a couple of weeks now. I named it Billy because it looks sometimes just like the, uh, boils I got from the curse when it expands."

Tommy lets out a watery laugh. "Of course, you'd name your sourdough starter." He clears his throat and the sirens are suddenly much louder in Buck's ears before they cut off abruptly. Quiet, rushed talking that Buck doesn't understand before Tommy starts running. "What else?"

"I made baked Alaska pretty soon after we broke up. It took me hours to make, and the entire time it was setting in the freezer, I had to bake other things to stop myself from calling you. I-I don't know if Chim told you that's why I started baking, but it is."

When Tommy responds, it's not through the phone. He comes to a stop beside him. "It sounds like your coping mechanism was more productive than mine, at least. Want to get away from the edge for me, Evan?"

He holds out his hand and Buck takes it with a shaky laugh. "Oh, yeah? What was yours?" The knowledge that Tommy was moping just as bad as Buck makes him feel...something.

"Eating entire pints of ice cream by myself on the couch while watching rom-coms." Tommy pulls Buck to his feet and wraps his arms tight around him. Buck can feel how badly Tommy is shaking. "Thank god you're okay. Thank you so much for calling me, Evan. Fuck."

Buck hugs him back and ignores the paramedics lingering behind him. He knows he's going to be taken away in the ambulance and put under a 72-hour hold because of this. He doesn't think about that, or what it means for his job when he's let out.

He focuses on Tommy and the way he clings to him. He came back. Sure, maybe he'll leave again when the initial scare of everything fades away, but it's more than most people have done in the past.

Tommy pulls away first and holds Buck's face gently in his hands. There are tear tracks on his cheeks and more spill over as he looks Buck over. "I love you too. I didn't say it earlier and didn't say it then, but I am now. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.

It doesn't fix everything, doesn't even scratch the surface, but it raises something dangerous in Buck's chest.

Hope.

[cailinsblog]

Could you write a fic where Jack is dating someone who knows nothing about Hockey? He likes teaches her the rules and is just sweet about it?

Omg I love this idea thank you 💕💕😻

A Journey of Love, Hockey, and Skating | jack hughes

Jack hughes x reader

Masterlist

It was a crisp autumn day when Jack Hughes, star forward for the New Jersey Devils, found himself in a dilemma. It wasn’t about hockey, contract talks, or media scrutiny — it was something far more personal. His girlfriend, Y/N, had never been to a game of his. She didn’t know the first thing about hockey, and Jack was starting to realize that he had never really taught her the ins and outs of the sport that had shaped his entire life.

Y/N and Jack had been together for a little over six months now, and though they had spent a lot of time together, their worlds never really collided when it came to hockey. She had met him through mutual friends, and while she loved him for his personality, his kindness, and his easy smile, hockey was a world she knew little about.

One evening, as they sat on the couch in his apartment, Y/N casually mentioned, “I’ve been meaning to ask… what’s the deal with icing? Like, what does that even mean?”

Jack chuckled, surprised. “You’ve been with me for months, and you’ve never asked about icing?” He raised an eyebrow, teasing her playfully.

“I don’t want to look dumb,” she admitted with a shy smile.

“Y/N, you could never look dumb,” he reassured her. “Come on, let me teach you. I’ll explain everything. Hockey 101.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll need a lot of lessons, I think.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack said, his voice soft and patient. “We’ll take it slow. I’ll even show you how to skate. I want you to feel like you get it, like you’re part of it.”

The thought of skating, especially in the context of Jack’s world, made Y/N nervous. She hadn’t skated since she was a kid, and back then, she had barely been able to stay upright. Still, she loved Jack and wanted to share this part of his life with him. “Okay, I’m in,” she agreed, smiling.

### The First Lesson: Hockey 101

The next day, Jack decided to take her to a quiet rink in the city. It wasn’t a professional arena, just a simple outdoor rink where locals came to skate during the winter months. Jack wanted it to be a low-pressure environment where Y/N could relax and focus without the distraction of a crowd.

They arrived, and Jack pulled on his gear — the jersey, the skates — and Y/N stood by the bench, watching him in awe. He made it all look so effortless.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Jack started, his hands on his hips. “In hockey, the objective is simple: score more goals than the other team. You have three periods, and each period is 20 minutes long. There’s a goalie whose job is to stop the puck, and there are five players on the ice at a time — including the goalie.”

He pointed to a few different areas on the rink. “The blue lines are where the players try to control the game, and the red line? That’s the center line. Icing happens when the puck is shot across both blue lines without anyone touching it, and it crosses the goal line. It’s a violation, and the game stops. But we’ll get into all the details later.”

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to follow along. She didn’t get all of it, but Jack had such a calm, patient way of explaining it. She didn’t feel dumb for not knowing — instead, it felt like they were creating their own little world, a space where she could learn and Jack could teach.

Jack smiled. “You’re doing great. Now, time for the fun part. Let’s get you on the ice.”

### The Skating Lesson

Y/N put on her skates, a little wobbly, and stood up. The moment her blades touched the ice, she immediately felt the unease of being unsteady. Her knees trembled, and she almost lost her balance.

“Whoa, careful!” Jack said, reaching out to steady her. He grinned. “You gotta bend your knees a little. Think of it like a squat.”

She followed his instructions, trying to stay as low as she could without falling. “Like this?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, exactly. Now, just glide a little bit.”

Y/N pushed off tentatively, and for a second, it felt like she was floating. But then her legs went out from under her, and she collapsed onto the ice with a soft thud.

“Hey, you okay?” Jack skated over to her immediately, offering a hand. His expression was a mix of concern and amusement.

“I’m fine,” she laughed, brushing herself off. “I think I need more practice.”

Jack grinned. “No worries. I’ll take it slow. Just focus on shifting your weight and pushing off with your outside edges. That’s the trick.”

Over the next hour, Jack patiently taught her the basics of skating. He held her hands as she made tentative strides around the rink, supporting her whenever she lost her balance. It wasn’t graceful — her movements were jerky and uncertain — but Jack’s presence gave her the confidence to keep trying.

“Good job, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “You’re getting it. I’m really proud of you.”

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling. “Thanks, Jack. I don’t think I would’ve gotten this far without you.”

Jack skated backward in front of her, keeping her steady with one hand on her shoulder. “This is fun. I like being here with you. Maybe next time we can practice more advanced stuff, like crossovers, but for today, you’re doing great.”

She let out a little laugh, looking at him affectionately. “I can’t believe I’m skating with Jack Hughes. This is so weird, but also amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he said, squeezing her hand. “And you’re doing way better than you think.”

### A Quiet Moment

After a couple of hours of skating, they took a break by the rink-side, sipping hot cocoa from a small cart nearby. Y/N was still a little shaky on the ice, but she could feel herself improving, and the adrenaline from skating was starting to wear off. They sat on the wooden bench, Jack wrapping an arm around her as they watched other skaters glide by.

Jack, who usually exuded confidence on the ice, looked at her with a softness in his eyes. “You know, this is my favorite part of the game — the quiet moments. The ones when you’re with someone you love, and everything else just fades away.”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, her heart full. “I feel the same way. I may not know everything about hockey yet, but I love being here with you. I’m really glad you’re teaching me.”

He kissed the top of her head, his voice tender. “I’m happy you’re learning, but what makes me happiest is that you’re here. You’re not just learning the game — you’re learning a part of me.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, the cold air around them only adding to the warmth they felt in each other’s presence. The rink began to clear out as the sun set behind the city skyline, casting a soft golden glow over everything.

Jack stood up and pulled her gently to her feet. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough for today. You ready to hit the ice again?”

Y/N laughed, her nerves forgotten. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They skated hand-in-hand, slowly at first, then picking up speed, laughing as they went. Jack helped her through each little challenge, showing her how to lean into the curves and glide across the ice with more ease. As the evening wore on, she felt herself getting more confident.

By the end of the night, Y/N couldn’t believe how much she had learned. The ice no longer felt like a slippery obstacle — it was something she could share with Jack, something that had brought them closer together.

As they left the rink, Jack turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “You did amazing today, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “I’m proud of me too. And I’m really glad I have you to teach me.”

Jack grinned. “I’ll teach you anything. Hockey, skating, life... whatever you want. We’re in this together.”

And as they walked off into the chilly night, hand in hand, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just the rules of hockey she had learned that day — it was something far more important: how to trust, how to share, and how to love.

And with Jack by her side, she knew there was no challenge she couldn’t face, no lesson she couldn’t learn.

Please send in request

[maddie-grove]

What do you think are some legitimate things (trends, author problems, etc) to criticize about in romance novels?

So, romance novels can be offensive in all the ways that fiction in general can be offensive, but, if I had to pick one thing that's pervasive yet fairly specific to the genre, it's the rigidity of gender roles in m/f romance. The hero is more often than not physically bigger, older, richer, and (especially in historical romance) higher-class than the heroine, and, when he doesn't have the advantage in every category, the narrative frequently (a) makes him even more powerful in the areas where he does have the advantage (i.e., she may be more aristocratic but he's very, very rich and he's friends with aristocrats now and he's big and strong and blah blah blah) or (b) is super-self-conscious about the dude being less powerful in some ways (i.e., over-explaining why he's still worthy as a partner and/or isn't put off by the heroine being taller or older or richer). I think this is sometimes a trend that comes from the top (I remember Courtney Milan saying something about getting flak for not making a hero a duke back in the early 2010s, even though he was still a confident, good-looking gentleman with money) and sometimes one that comes from readers (there was a romance review blog that I lost patience with because the reviewer couldn't relate to tall heroines). Plus, when the heroine does have more power in some way, it's usually not by a lot; like, it would be totally unremarkable if the genders were reversed. I remember reading a romance novella anthology specifically about older women/younger men, and I think only one novella had an age gap of ten or more years. (In one novella he was literally a day younger.) Meanwhile, how many historical romance novels have a twenty-year-old heroine and a thirty-year-old hero and it's treated like nothing?

On the more meta side: I think it's generally bad when authors have to spend a lot of time doing self-promotion on social media. That means less time to actually write and sometimes more self-consciousness because the book is kind of being written for people the author knows online. That's not exclusive to romance, but it is a genre largely written and read by women, and I think that results in a lot of pressure to be Nice (which includes not giving a negative opinion about a book).

I'm not a fan of the move towards "rom-com" contemporary romance, but that's largely because that's not my thing inherently. However, I do feel like many authors simultaneously want the hijinks of a romantic comedy and a romance that would be Healthy in Real Life. Which isn't impossible, but it takes more finesse than they usually have.

[gay-dorito-dust]

lmao this is my first time giving a request. Could you maybe do dick Grayson head cannons?

Most of these hdc come from my little brain that I thought fit Dick in general, it’s not based on stuff (some of them are but not all) if ppl agree or don’t agree, I couldn’t care less honestly. Also thanks for the request anon, hope you like it! 🫶

I know I write him as a little goofy goober but he tends to play up this character so that he doesn’t have to open up about anything. Is it foolproof? Not entirely and it solely depends on the person and their relationship to him,those of whom that pick up what he’s putting down, and those (you) who can easily see through this facade and know something is up.

He’s more often than not the type who will become more affectionate in private where it’s just you, him and Hayley. Dick doesn’t need anybody else other then you two, his confidants as he so playfully called you both one day, and he’s more then content then he’s ever been.

Older sibling syndrome is strong in this boy.

Foot wars are a common occurrence in your shared apartment as you push against the others foot with your own to see who’s going to be victorious, only for you to accidentally smack him in the face with your foot and the foot war becomes ten times worse, seeing as how as Dick often wins them more then you did.

He will never stop feeling guilty about Jason’s death. Never. That boy who was filled with love and life and claimed that being robin was magic was still within Jason somewhere, dick just knows this to be true, even if Jason loves to claims that that little kid was gone.

And while he’s glad that Jason is back in his life, dick couldn’t help but feel as though he could’ve done better by him at times, holding onto that guilt and shame for not being their for his brother that still killed him inside to this day whenever he saw Jason laugh and or smile at something. It hurts but Dick will never stop being in Jason’s corner, not once. If Gotham was against Jason then Dick will gladly be by Jason’s side, to show that his allegiance to his brother would outweigh a lot of things.

(I’m so normal about dick and Jason being brothers can’t you tell 🥲 leave me here and be delusional)

The same applies to Damian also, which is why your mostly acquainted with both Jason and Damian in comparison to the rest of his family because they often come over by pure coincidence, or because dick dragged them by their ears with a smile on his face.

Insists that you cling onto his legs while he does pull ups and or sit on his back while he does push ups as he lets you count.

Complains to you when he looses the nightwing look alike contest, and to Jason no less, which no one that knows him personally allows him to live down.

They (Tim and Stephanie) even make memes out of it.

Has Hayley as his Lock Screen, you as his Home Screen. Both wearing cute matching pyjamas. So when he’s on his phone people think he’s smiling at his picture of Hayley -which is true- but he’s also smiling at the picture of you also.

His family pester him about you a lot, even Bruce asks when he’s going to meet you, claiming he’s not going to get any younger should Dick hold back on introducing you to him.

Even Alfred gets in on this as well but Dick always has an excuse locked and loaded when these questions are asked, but even he knows that Bruce knows that it’s all bullshit, however he doesn’t say anything outright incase Dick didn’t feel comfortable introducing you to them yet.

Wears only boxers to sleep or boxers and a light blue shirt, it depends on what he’s feeling really.

Loves living in the moment with you as you enjoy the others company without feeling the need to fill the air with chatter, you could just both exist and still love each other regardless because Dick didn’t feel the need to talk all the time, so moments like these were what he longed for most.

Ungracefully fell on his ass in fuzzy soaks once and hurt his tailbone in the process. It was funny until he asked to you put a bag of ice on the afflicted area.

Loved narrating what you and or Hayley do in a goofy voice that never fails to make you smile.

Doesn’t open up immediately but once he does it’s a sign of trust. He admits to his flaws in past relationships and how he wasn’t the most faithful and often saw commitment as a challenge. He understands if you see that as a sign to leave the relationship, he doesn’t expect anything from you, but if you did stay then he’s more then happy to not repeat those mistakes in your relationship.

Knows that people see Bruce when they look at him, he expects it because after being with him as long as he has it was only logical that he picked up some habits along the way whether he liked it or not.

Has a big heart but claims that Jason’s heart was twice as big because he’s so full of love and believed in love.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 3 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 4.0k (i know)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), much cussing, some adult themes (again, no smut y'all), bkg and reader go through one stage of grief: bargaining, the plot thickens!

a/n. wrote all this in one day—i couldn't put the doc down until i finished it. this chapter is jam-packed and has lots going on, but we're only at the beginning. i hope you have as much fun reading it as i did writing it!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

“…Though I trust you’ll understand if we set some—” he pauses, and you’re 99% sure it’s for dramatic effect, “—precautionary measures in place?”

“Waddya have in mind?” asks Bakugou, his rough tone laced with unmistakable skepticism.

“Well, for starters…”

Their leader glances back at the bionic woman. “Sayaka, are they ready?”

Sayaka nods. “Ready for installation, Masaki-san.”

You scramble to take a mental note of their names—as well as try to ignore the fact that the robotic girl sounds like a robot, too—as you watch Masaki gesture to the escort from earlier who’s standing at the sides and in the shadows.

He emerges into the dim lights with a wide stride, but to your surprise, another leg steps forward right beside him. Your eyes trail up until they land on the other person, widening in confusion because they look just like a carbon copy of the intimidating escort—tall, ginger head, pale skin—only it’s a girl.

There’s no mistaking it.

They’re twins.

Twin bodyguards. In a quirk supremacist group.

You fight the urge to let out a dry laugh.

But apparently, neither of the two finds the situation funny, because they’re nothing but serious as they approach Masaki and bow politely, before heading to Sayaka and taking what looks like tiny…metal pieces?

You don’t get the opportunity to wonder about what those were, though, because, in the blink of an eye, the twins are already stalking straight toward you and Bakugou, glaring daggers.

“Those are bugs,” Masaki explains just as the twins arrive right in front of you, with the guy from earlier towering over Bakugou and the female staring you down a few inches away from your face, decidedly a little too close for comfort. You barely manage to stop yourself from gulping and looking away.

“They’ll be tracking your speech and movements 24/7. And don’t worry, they’re waterproof.”

You sense Bakugou’s about to spit some smart-ass comment, judging by the way he puffs up like he tends to do when he’s about to drop a curse-riddled quip, but he doesn’t get the chance to deliver the blow because the twins are on you in an instant.

You accidentally let out a yelp as the woman grabs the hem of your tank top so roughly you think it’s gonna tear, before she stuffs her right hand up. Mortified, you struggle against her hold, but her left has a death grip on you.

“Relax,” she seethes, obviously very much already done with you. “I’m just installing it.”

At her words, you manually will yourself to calm down, and it quickly dawns on you that she’s not touching you violently or inappropriately. You tamp down a shiver as her cold fingers come into contact with the center of your chest, right at the dip of your bra and between your breasts, feeling the surface before sticking something that you promptly identify as the tracker.

And as she retracts her hand and steps away from you, right at the same time as her twin like they’re wired for synchrony, you reflect on how it’s so light that you barely feel an added weight to your body. It’s circular, too, and you debate for a second whether or not to peer down at your chest to see what it really looks like, before ultimately deciding against it.

You can do that later, in the privacy of the (hopefully not downstairs) bathroom.

If such a concept even exists.

“Thanks, you two,” comes Masaki’s gentle voice, before shifting to regard you and Bakugou. “You can get to know your designated guards later on, but for now, let’s continue.”

As if on cue, the twins take a further step back before eventually returning to their dark corner.

“What we just affixed on your chests are special devices, again, designed to monitor any sound you make as well as your specific locations. They’re not your ordinarily engineered trackers—they’re Sayaka’s thanks to her quirk—which also allows her to directly receive the feedback and project it for others to see and hear.”

Ah.

You don’t know how that works exactly, but you bet the expensive ass perfume that you got for your birthday last year—the very one you wear for special occasions like now—that it’s got something to do with her robotic parts.

“Does everyone in your group get one, too?” questions Bakugou, who’s now looking a bit miffed. You’re sure he didn’t enjoy getting felt up by a stranger who he just called someone’s little lackey.

“Only the new members,” Sayaka answers succinctly, her voice sounding like it’s filtered with autotune.

But especially you two, you finish for her in your head. And really, you can’t blame them. Taking in a pro-hero, let alone Japan’s #2, is a huge gamble, and Bakugou quite literally can make or break their whole plan to attack. This level of precaution is not at all uncalled for. You’d even go so far as to say it’s not enough.

Bakugou must be thinking the same thing, too, because he doesn’t offer a follow-up question.

Masaki takes your silence as a sign for him to go on.

“Of course, that’s only the first layer of protection.”

Shit.

You hope you didn’t just think that into existence.

The plain-looking leader puts on that prudent smile of his, before turning to look at the old man. “Kouki-san here has a very handy quirk. Teleportation,” he glances at Bakugou, “A sought-after power in the hero world, isn’t it?”

Bakugou shrugs, although you’re guessing the answer is yes and that he’s just too stubborn to admit it.

Figures.

“Well, he’s gone and mastered his quirk, and has since been indispensable to our organization. Essentially—” Masaki huffs, like he’s preparing for the bomb he’s about to drop, “—the very moment you even hint at betraying us, we’re gone,” he snaps his fingers, “Just like that. And you won’t be able to trace us.”

“Really?” drawls Bakugou. “You’ll abandon this cushy, not at all seedy ass headquarters of yours?”

“This is only one of many, Dynamight,” Masaki responds, seemingly unbothered by Bakugou’s taunt. “And this is actually not our headquarters.”

He picks up his glass of alcohol and lightly twirls it around in his hand. “I also trust that you’re aware of what a distinguished group such as ours entails? Naturally, we need to have somewhere safe where we can conduct all our activities under the radar.”

“As you can imagine, it’s not just us five. We have many, many members who share the same principles, and this club can’t possibly be large enough to host all of us.”

“Where are you going with this?” Bakugou demands.

“What I’m saying is that we have a separate place as our headquarters, a place much bigger than this. And—” he cocks his head toward Kouki, “—we get there via teleportation.”

“Obviously,” sneers Bakugou, “Otherwise that’d be a huge waste of the old man’s quirk, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s only one of the reasons. You see, it’s also so that you won’t know where it is located,” Masaki pauses once again, which you decide in a split second is warranted because of what he’s going to say next.

“And for that to work, we’re also going to have to lock you inside.”

Your breath hitches. Bakugou bristles.

“The fu—”

“We’re going to have to make you stay with us—” the plain-looking man interjects with a slightly louder voice, “—at least until the day of the attack, as we cannot risk you two being seen constantly going in and out of this club every night.”

You’re about to contribute to the conversation for the very first time but Bakugou beats you to it. “Fucking stay in? Isn’t that gonna cause even more suspicion?”

“It wouldn’t if you both come up with a good excuse to disappear,” Kouki retorts with a smidge of attitude. He eyes Bakugou with a raised brow, “Wouldn’t now be a great time to have a top-secret ‘mission’ overseas? And I’m sure your friend here can whip something up.”

You brush off the annoyance that shoots through you at the dismissive mention. Instead, you finally bring yourself to speak up. “I thought you just said we’ll be stuffed in a secret hideout?”

“Ah,” Masaki sounds out, “You are, but this is our gateway, so to speak. You go here to get teleported to the headquarters, and from there, get teleported back here to return to the outside world. We won’t hesitate to teleport away from both places the second we have to, but that doesn’t mean our HQ is easily disposable to us, hence all these measures.”

“All this to say,” he furthers, his timid tone juxtaposing the threatening words you’re sure he’s about to utter, “You two better think twice about betraying us.”

There it is.

He smiles again. “Do either of you have any questions?”

Beside you, Bakugou mutters to himself for a second, before clearing his throat. “You’re yapping on and on about what you’ll do if we betray you and shit. Ain’t that such a warm welcome for your new members?”

—A rhetorical question, because he doesn’t let anyone get a word in. Instead, he presses on.

“But what if we don’t? What’s in it for us?”

“You get to live out your ideals, boy,” comes the old geezer’s snappy reply.

Bakugou snorts, and you’re sure it’s not because he found the guy hilarious.

“That’s a shitty deal on our end, don’t ya think so?” the pro-hero shifts his weight on his other foot. “How ‘bout this, you guarantee protection for my…friend here, and we’re even.”

You hold your breath.

Looking past the way he just so awkwardly referred to you as his friend, that segue just now wasn’t exactly the smoothest.

Still, you have no choice but to roll with it. So, with much conviction, you morph your face into that of shyness—one that you hope is charming enough to win their graces.

“Just her?” asks Masaki, placid as ever.

“I can get by,” comes Bakugou’s confident response.

Once again ignoring the mildly degrading remark, you ready yourself to use your quirk. You closely examine the leader’s features as they transform into an expression of contemplation, even as he turns to the other two and engages them in quiet conversation.

You and Bakugou stand there for a few moments, waiting, before Masaki finally turns again.

And all that preparing to utilize your quirk goes out of the dilapidated windows once you catch a glimpse of his face.

“I guess that’s settled, then.”

Called it.

Masaki then raises an eyebrow at the two of you. “Any more concerns?” he smiles to himself, “Heartwarming requests?”

Neither of you says anything.

“None?” he asks again, before patting his thighs in a gesture of finality. “Well, then, I believe it’s time for you to see your new home! Kouki-san?”

At the mention, the old man slowly gets up from where he made himself very comfortable on the couch, and walks leisurely towards you, planting himself in front of and between you and Bakugou.

“Hang tight,” Kouki smirks, reaching out for both of your hands, and you’re just about registering how eerily cool his are when the ground that was perfectly carpeted and steady just a second ago suddenly collapses from beneath you.

A violent wave of nausea instantly hits you as the room completely vanishes before you, replaced by pitch-black darkness in a second. You scramble for purchase—tightening your grip on the person responsible for whatever the fuck this is—as the noise instantaneously gets sucked in a vacuum, leaving you in full silence. Your legs are jelly as you stumble on your feet, and you’re convinced you’re going to fall to your death down to the abyss below you when—just as fast as the lounge disappeared—a warmly lit hallway materializes in front of you.

But it’s too late, you’re already out of balance and lurching forward—inch by excruciating inch—right until you feel a hand grab your forearm and you’re unceremoniously yanked back into an upright position.

You whip to look at Bakugou as you wobble on your feet, and he’s staring at you with such alarm that makes you feel so…vulnerable. He retracts his left hand a beat later when you eventually steady yourself, his serious and unrelenting gaze fixated on you before shifting to study the place you just got teleported to.

You follow suit, eyeing the hallway as you place the hand Kouki was holding into your pocket to warm it up.

Similar to the club and the room you were just in, the area is barely illuminated, but it’s bright enough for you to make out the dark wooden doors that line both sides. You’re right in the middle of the hallway, and at one of the ends you think are staircases leading both to a lower and an upper level, while at the other end is another door.

If these lead to what you think they lead…

Then, damn.

They weren’t kidding about lodging.

From the corner of your eye, you see the old man look at you and follow your line of vision, shifting to study the aforementioned door at the end of this hallway.

“That’s your room,” he offers curtly, like this job of chaperoning you to your place of residence for who knows how many days is beneath him.

Room, you parrot in your head.

Room singular.

“Well?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his impatience when neither you nor Bakugou makes a move. “Aren’t you going to check it out?”

You hesitate, glancing at Bakugou to find him frowning at Kouki, before turning to look at you.

“We don’t have all day, you two,” Kouki adds on with a sigh at the same time you raise your eyebrows ever so minutely at the pro-hero, as if asking for confirmation. “Go on, I’ll wait here.”

It only takes a small nod from Bakugou to pull you out of the paralysis, and the minute that he does, you’re already moving to the spot beside him, matching his pace as you trudge towards the door.

As inconspicuously as you can, you check the corners of the room along the wall facing you for cameras, only to find none.

And so you do it.

With your backs turned against the Teleportation master, you finally let your emotions show on your face.

You also chance a peek at Bakugou, only to find him already eyeing you with the very same expression you’re sure is written all over your features.

The one that says you’re fucked.

You don’t get to dwell or comment on the shared sentiment, though, mainly because they’ll hear every word you say, but also because you arrive in front of the door. Bakugou looks at the knob and then at you warily, and you can only nod in encouragement.

That seems to be enough of a push for him, because he reaches for and turns the handle, pushing past the entryway so you can walk in from behind him.

Now, the first thing that registers after you startle at the door closing is the fact that the room is small. Tiny, even. There’s another door at the back, which you think leads to the comfort room.

But that’s pretty much it.

That, and there’s only one bed.

To your credit, though, you’re able to refrain from gasping in horror at the sight of it, which you can chalk up to the next thing that you see—a couch.

It doesn’t seem like it’s foldable or can be converted into a larger bunk, but it’ll have to do. It’s brown and hopefully real leather this time, and is crammed right next to the bed. You remind yourself that they were only expecting Bakugou, and so you can’t really complain and that you’ll have to make do with sleeping on the couch for the next n days.

Aside from all those, though, the room is relatively bare.

Well, apart from the cameras with the blinking red light at the upper, four corners of it.

But you don’t get to wordlessly warn him about it, let alone come to terms with the fact that they’re deadass going to be watching your every single move, because something seizes your wrist, spinning you around, leaving you face to face with Bakugou.

You’re too preoccupied with the sudden motion and the fact that you’re just a breadth’s width away from each other to notice the darkened look in his eyes.

Which, in hindsight, you should’ve noticed.

If you wanted any chance at bracing yourself for what he’s going to do next.

“Wha—”

You yelp—cutting yourself off—when Bakugou, the Bakugou Katsuki—Japan’s #2 Pro-hero, Vogue Japan’s Hottest Bachelor of the Year, and the dickhead who used to be your biggest, fattest crush—grabs at your neck and smashes his lips against yours.

You involuntarily jerk away from him, but his free hand shoots up to roughly clutch your hip just as his grip on your neck tightens, pinning you in place and right against him.

And you don’t know how the fuck it happens, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t know at this point, and frankly, you don’t want to know, because coupled with his scalding hold on your body, it causes you to do the unthinkable.

You moan.

And again, you don’t even get the opportunity to feel the utter humiliation, because just as quickly as he pounced on you, Bakugou pulls away, but not before scowling at the cameras as if he just noticed them—which you doubt—then taking your hand, dragging you out of the door and into the hallway.

The old man glances at you. “Are you don—”

“Take us the fuck back now,” Bakugou spits as he pulls you right beside him.

At that, Kouki’s eyebrows furrow. “You ought to know better than to speak to an elderly like that.”

But the man who just fucking kissed you apparently can’t give a single flying fuck, because he retorts without missing a beat. “Take us back now.”

That must’ve been the final straw, because Kouki’s face finally morphs into the scowl that you think he’s been trying to suppress this entire time, but to your surprise, he moves closer to the two of you and once again, reaches for your hands.

You don’t know what the fuck is going on, but what you do know is that Bakugou’s onto something here, because he wouldn’t have pulled that stunt just now without any reason, which means the last thing you should do is resist.

And so you take Kouki’s hand, just as Bakugou snags the other, and when you do, the floor gives out from underneath you.

You’re still overcome with a sense of dizziness as your surroundings shift and the noise dissipates around you, but as you find the lounge slowly appearing before your eyes, you find that it’s not as bad the second time.

Bakugou’s still holding your hand when you arrive at the second floor of the club, right back where you stood from a while ago.

Sayaka is the first one to notice you, most likely thanks to her quirk and the goddamn device stuck to your chest, but it’s Masaki who speaks up when he catches wind of your arrival.

He puts down the deck of cards you think he’s just been shuffling before shifting to look at you. “Back so soon?”

Kouki turns around to face him, “Bakugou demanded to—”

“Why the fuck are there cameras in our room?”

Offended, the old man whips around again to glower at Bakugou, seemingly ready to unleash the sermon of the century. “Young man—”

“Turn them the fuck off,” the pro-hero interjects, “And the mics, too.”

Bakugou hesitates, as if unsure of how to properly say the next few words. He glances at you, expression inexplicable, before turning back to face them. “…At least at night.”

Silence.

“Oooh, I see where this is going,” comes Masaki’s reaction a moment later, a knowing smile creeping on his face. You feel yourself flame. “You weren’t being clear with us earlier, Bakugou. You didn’t say you brought your girlfriend.”

“Didn’t think it was necessary to point out,” comes Bakugou’s terse reply.

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid it doesn’t matter either way. The surveillance is for our safety, which comes above everything else, even the privacy of our esteemed members.”

“You promised you’d protect her at all costs,” Bakugou counters. “Protecting her modesty from the perverts you call your surveillance people is part of that.”

Now, you’re not a hundred percent certain, but you’re pretty sure he just shot the cyborg a look at the latter half of the sentence, which you think would’ve been a noble gesture—if it weren’t for the fact that it’s not just her, judging by the sheer number of cameras in this room alone.

Your attention drifts back to Masaki, however, when he heaves a sigh, leaning against the couch with a tired expression on his face. “Tell me, then, Dynamight. How do you propose we make sure you don’t brew something behind our backs off surveillance?”

“I can turn off the bugs,” Sayaka pipes up before Bakugou can answer, her mechanical voice drifting across the room. “They emit a blue light at their circumference that shuts down when I turn the device off.”

“As for the cameras…” she drones on, “The blinking red light should be gone when they’re offline.”

“That shit won’t do,” Bakugou declares decisively, not even letting the suggestion simmer. “There’s no knowing for sure that they’re actually off and aren’t just hacked to seem like they are.”

“The cameras should also face down. And—” he huffs, “—We get to remove the tracker.”

A chorus of protests erupts from the group—particularly from Sayaka and Kouki—but even the twins who are still stationed at the sides. Masaki, in contrast, only sits in silence as he studies the pro-hero, but there’s no missing the uneasiness decorating his features.

“It’s only at night,” Bakugou reasons, voice now a bit louder to be heard amidst the sea of complaints. “You can set up guards around the perimeters of our room. We’ll surrender them at the door before entering, and we can’t go out beyond the doorway until they’re attached again.”

And when no one says anything, Bakugou pushes. “How does that sound?”

You chance a glance at Masaki, who does not seem to be getting anywhere near convinced.

Bakugou must be noticing it, too, because he squeezes your hand so imperceptibly that you almost miss it.

But you don’t, and quite honestly, you could have and be okay with having done so, because you were on it, anyway.

You quickly scan the room.

One, two, three, four, five.

Five.

You can do five.

And so with the most innocent tone you can muster, you speak up.

“That sounds reasonable to me.”

All five whip to look at you, and the second that they do, you pull—swiftly and in succession—eyes jumping from Sayaka to Kouki to Masaki to the male twin and then to the girl.

Your gaze darts back to the leader right after to make sure you got him, but his remarkably serene countenance is enough to tell you that you’ve successfully done it.

You did it.

You just won Bakugou and you the window of time to discuss the mission in the privacy of your own room.

And Bakugou must be seeing the palpable shift in their demeanors because he squeezes your hand once more, only this time you think it’s in gratitude.

You feel a surge of pride swell in your chest.

Let the games begin.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day

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[indornaga]

The Animality of Humanity

i finally got a chance to sit down and listen to the new Nightwish album, and it hits the animal part of me just as hard as their other albums.

what is it about nightwish that makes me feral?

if you listen closely to their lyrics (especially these last three albums, but it applies to all of their albums) they talk a lot about the Human Experience(tm). but its not the human experience that we usually think of when we think of humans today--it's a lot of primal humanity, historic, from a simpler time and simpler way of life, from when humans struggled daily against the fickle whims of nature, against our fellow animals also trying to survive, and against their own instincts.

it took me a while to really listen to Human :|i: Nature because it sounds *so* human focused. every song is about human nature, as the title suggests, which put me off of it because it didnt feel like i could relate at all. but upon listening deeper, it tells the story of how humans are just as animal as any other. their music emphasizes the animality OF human nature, the capability of reverting to baser instincts in each human, of the human place in nature.

it took a few listens to really recognize it, but as a human with extra animal instincts, i was able to finally catch it: is it not animal nature to enjoy a good meal? for a social species to gather for a good cuddle and grooming? to come to the aid of a group member when in trouble? to scuffle with a threat, even if that threat is one's own species? to want progeny that carry on one's genes? it's certainly human nature to crave being in a natural environment, to see the trees and ground coverings, to see flowing water, the sky overhead. humans have a few extra instincts that dont seem it, but i also attribute to being animal; the love of music and song, and being storytellers. music and song is nearly universally loved. it awakens some sort of primal instinct in humans to move, clap, or sing along. storytelling has been used as a passtime for time immemorial, and again is nearly universally enjoyed. both of these are done with sounds; nonhuman animals use sound to communicate, and have been recorded to do sounds for fun as well. is that not what song and story telling are? communication?

early therian writings talk of doing totally human things to connect with their animality: taking hikes in nature, communing at gatherings, and most importantly, recognizing the animality in their human instincts.

we're lucky enough to be closer to the animal spectrum than most humans. but i think it gets forgotten about that humans are animals, and we tread a very fine line between the "sophistication" of humanity, and the ferality of animality. but that's the beauty of it; we're uniquely animal. we're something that our ancestors revered: how much of folklore is being in awe of or fearing nonhuman animals for their unique abilities?

i feel like that's what Nightwish's music really touches on, and why it's so good at awakening the ferality in me. also just the heavy guitar, drums, and the cadance of the songs hype up my primal predator brain lol i highly suggest giving them a listen. if only because the music is very feral.

[margoshamangolord]

A BIG POST WHY TFA SENTINEL IS A GOOD CHARACTER WHILE STILL BEING A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

lots of thoughts under cut

I hated him like any tfa viewer is expected to, and i still do, because he's wrong oftenly and very fucking immature about his own actions, but it's just that fandom treats him like a simple flat cardboard designed for nagging the main characters, while he's not. Even people usually fond of discussing character depth just go "ew" at him, but i want to prove that he's not worse than even ratchet or bumblebee in terms of writing. His actions have depths, reasons and explanations. I do not want to excuse him in points where he actually fucked up, but i do want to remind that he's a character with a history and insecurities like others in tfa

I want to start off with the fact that while the hate he has inside the fandom is not really interesting, it is easily expected. He acts like a piece of shit and has a lot of negative traits (for example you have his attitude towards organics, and while you could kinda write it into being a reaction to Elita's 'death', it wouldn't be really valid, since Optimus was there too, he saw the same things as him, but he has no disgust towards humans)

The first thing i want to show would be this screenshot from the allspark almanac. It actually broke me when i saw it and prompted to write this because it brilliantly explains his whole character drama.

He feels guilty. He actually knows and admits he made a mistake and he is weighed down by it. He is fully and painfully aware of his stupidity in the situation.

But is he going to admit it? Is he going to apologise? Of course he's not. He cannot carry the weight of his guilt, but he cannot apologise and let himself be weak. So he made a vow.

He presses Optimus down and puts that weight on him because it's easier for him to stand straight reassuring himself that he's not at fault at all here. He feels that if he says sorry, then he'll be guilty forever and will never let go if he acknowledges it. He is guilty and he knows it, but he's immature and he does not want to think about it at all. He distracts himself with the rules and regulations.

"I did it, i fucked up trying to be something greater than i should, breaking rules. I'm never gonna wash it off, I'm guilty, but i must be better. If I don't make any more attempts at throwing over the rules, if I hold down others from doing so, i will be better, right?"

Rules are safety and comfort for him. Breaking rules and trying to be special is something he associates with Elita's death, and his thought process basically is "no rule breaking=no tragic accidents to be responsible for". He's confident that if he does everything by protocol, how he's told, then there will be no situation he would have to be blamed in. Of course he takes it to an extent. You oftenly see him obsessing over rules and regulations more oftenly than others — and now that makes sense.

The second thing would be his profile and Optimus's words about him. This text doesn't really serve us much important information, just a simple outside opinion on how he acts, except the first phrase.

"Sentinel means well, he really does."

As bizzare as it sounds, even Optimus, who he has a very sour relationship with, understands this. Sentinel actually means well — but it's just his experience and perception that really distort what comes out in the end. His "well" is very different from others' "well", but he definitely does not actually mean intentional harm in most occasions.

An unconcious goal that he most likely has is "do not let the elita incident happen again". It actually explains why he's trying to press down Optimus's ambitions and yells at young autobots about the importance of listening to the code. He may see himself in others.

Last is miscellaneous details. He actually covered Optimus and Elita when they were retreating — wouldn't do this if he was as selfish as creators want us to believe. He says he made a mistake in the almanac (when he was kinda being interviewed, he told the truth). Wouldn't really do that too. Most times he's been a dick to Optimus and his crew were him simply not believing immediate information without proof like he believes is the right way, like he's supposed to, and from his perspective he was genuinely sure he's doing the right thing

Conclusion

I would still slap him if i met him. But it doesn't mean that he should be rushed and avoided during discussion of character flaws and I'm tired of him just getting flatted down by the fandom as "mean and stupid do not touch". I want him to be taken seriously, and tbh finding out that he actually feels bad about archa seven is all it takes to be suddenly enlightened about the inner workings of his brain, because it connects all the dots.

And i would give all my money to see him canonically get a better development and more focus in the show. I would love if he accepted his wrongs, and if he had a genuinely honest conversation with Optimus. I really would.

[sapphiresaphics]

Here’s the thing. Arcane season 2 was finished being written back in 2020. It was completed before the first season of Arcane even aired on Netflix in the first place. Before they even knew if it was going to be a hit or not. Before any of the fans had hot takes about the characters.

Which means that all of these “new subplots” (such as the black rose) weren’t just added in on a whim. They have an intentional purpose in the story they’re trying to tell.

It also means that the pacing was always going to increase and become faster as the two seasons went on.

I think a lot of fans are coming at this show from the perspective of a lot of live action shows where the writers see how fans respond to certain things so they add them into the story or focus on fan favorites to grab your attention and keep you engaged. And live action shows can do this because they’re filmed relatively close to when the series airs and so they’re aware of what the reactions are on social media (for good or ill).

But this is animation. Very TIME CONSUMING animation at that. It took 4 years to finish animating the 9 episodes of Season 2. If you include the 6 years of development and production of Season 1, that’s almost a full DECADE of working on this show.

My point is that they literally (and logistically) can’t respond to fan input and make changes in the show based on the way it was received on social media. Like it or not, these specific characters beats and storylines were always the plan from the start.

This is a long winded way of trying to say… if you have problems with the way certain characters are behaving, or certain plot points feeling rushed, or feel overwhelmed by the number of added subplots that need to get resolved before the end of the show… I strongly suggest rather than saying the writing is “bad” or that the writers “don’t know what they’re doing” or just complain about anything really… I suggest you take a step back and ask yourself “why are these the stories and actions they chose for this 2 season arc?”

I think that’s a far more productive thing to do than to go online and whine about things you didn’t like. I find it’s better to try and understand WHY they chose to do these things rather than write them off. More often than not when you look into the why, or try to come up with reasons why the writers would take certain characters down the paths they do, you end up coming out appreciating the media more. Even if you still don’t were with their narrative choices, learning and understanding the WHY is far more rewarding I think.

I’ll give you an example of something I don’t like, but that I understand why. Isha. I don’t like that Isha was introduced and then killed off in the latest episode. If I were to look at it just from a surface level reading, it seems pointless to add this cute mute kid character only to take her away a few episodes later. But NARRATIVELY she’s extraordinarily important. She is what Jinx needed to become more empathetic to her sister and reach out to fix their family. She helps push Jinx into the role of Vander for season 2. And her heroically framed sacrifice is probably going to be the push Jinx needs to stop trying to commit suicide.

Would I have liked to see more of her and Jinx’s relationship? Yes. Would I liked to have learned more about where she came from and why she’s mute? Yes. But at the end of the day, this is not a show about Isha. Isha is a narrative device to help forward the character development of Jinx. And so, while I do not like that she sacrificed herself… I understand it. And that understanding helps me appreciate the writing and the level of depth the writers are willing to go to push their characters around where they need to be by the end of the series.

At the end of the day, Arcane is just another show on Netflix. It is not beyond criticism. There are a lot of legitimate criticisms you can have against the show. But I’ve found that recently the number of bad takes and people refusing to engage with the narrative has resulted in a bit of a backlash against the show and I do not think that’s ultimately very productive. Please… if you’re going to criticize the show, please try to do better than just write off anything you don’t like as “the writers just suck” or “they changed X character for no reason!”

Because I guarantee you, there IS a reason for everything in this show. No matter how small and trivial it might be, this show was put together with love and an extraordinary attention to detail. There are reasons for why characters do and say the things they say. The writers often make these into intentional parallels, foreshadowing, and callbacks.

Please… take the time to actually stop and dissect what you see. Even something upsets you. I implore you… try to understand why. Try to understand what the writers are saying. Try to understand how certain plot points and events could have a bearing on different characters.

Please just…. Try?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

[Referencing this post and this news!]

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!