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nouearth · 1 year ago

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a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter…

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it.

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more.

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end.

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was.

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

“oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy.

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen.

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you.

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change.

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face.

you. that was all he wanted.

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look.

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then. not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now.

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,”

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur.

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise.

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you.

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it.

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment.

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress.

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch.

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

“i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster.

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it.

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor.

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed.

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more.

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off.

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean.

nothing was wasted.

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #nou.fics

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loveanddeepthroat · 2 months ago

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Unlucky Thirteen

Summary - Sylus liked the quiet girl with the poorly heart. She was the only kid in the laboratory who hadn’t come and gone before he could even remember what she looked like. When he doesn’t see her for a whole day, he knows that there’s only one place she could be—the Medical Bay. He’d been through it all before she’d even arrived at the lab over a year prior, and felt a duty to keep her company whilst her heart healed.

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - Child!Sylus and Child!MC as experimental lab rats. Mentions of child experimentation and non-consensual medical treatments. This theory of them being lab rats is not canon, so keep in mind that I have made this all up!

Sylus couldn’t find the girl with the poorly heart.

It was the third and final free hour of the day in the laboratory’s Playroom, and she was nowhere to be seen among the children.

Again.

The girl had been missing a few times before now—usually for further experimentation. But for all three of their free time breaks from observations and alterations meant only one thing.

She had to be in the Medical Bay.

He didn’t know much about the quiet girl, other than the fact that she had problems with her heart. There was always a big, white bandage over her chest that just peaked out over the neckline of her plain white gown, but he would never ask her questions about it. They only got to see each other during mealtime and free time, so discussing the things they were put through in between was something neither of them wanted to commit any time to. She didn’t want to talk about her heart as much as he didn’t want to talk about his eye.

In fact, they didn’t talk much at all. They just had a common denominator that seemed to draw them to each other.

Sylus had watched kids come and go from this place for a few years, hoping that one day it would be his turn to leave. That futile hope had been short lived, and it became clear that he wasn’t going anywhere when all the other kids around him dropped off like flies.

When she came in with a new group of kids around a year ago, he thought nothing of it. She was just a face he’d forget after she would undoubtedly be released. But as those weeks turned to months—the few children she had arrived with long gone—her face had remained a constant for Sylus.

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that she’d finally been freed today. The people in the lab coats were far too interested in her as of late, and she was starting to look more withdrawn each time he saw her. Much like he had when he woke from an operation he didn’t know he was having.

The more he thought about her condition, the more he hoped that she was in the Medical Bay—rather than somewhere more sinister.

He’d grown a bit of an attachment to the girl. She was the only friendly face that hadn’t left him. Even in their lack of conversation, he enjoyed her company. Felt comforted by her. They often read in silence side by side, always in whichever back corner of the Playroom was free of other kids. The less significant test subjects always delved straight into the toys and games, but the two of them had no interest in joining in.

Sometimes, if the lab coats had prodded around in his eye too much, the girl would quietly read aloud to him. He liked it when she read to him. So much so that he sometimes played on his eye problems just to hear her read for an hour.

He was used to her being absent for one or two of the three free hours they get, but this was too much for him.

He had to get into the Medical Bay.

His head had purposely been rested against the electric heater beside the bookshelf for a few minutes as he made himself appear as clammy and feverish as possible. His cheeks burned as he pinched them repeatedly, and he put on his best nasally voice once he approached the Playroom supervisor with a little book tucked under his white t-shirt, rubbing his good eye for added effect.

“I feel sick,” he whined to the stone-faced woman in all-black clothing.

She barely threw down a glance at him, raising a lazy eyebrow. “You were fine during dinner.”

Damn.

Plan B came into quick effect. He rolled his eyes back a little, swaying where he stood. The hot skin of his forehead bumped against her hipbone as he stumbled forward dramatically, and she quickly bent down to his level, steadying him with her firm hands.

“Oh for goodness sake,” she mumbled, her frown deepening when she pressed the backs of her cold fingers against his head. She pulled out a little radio device that was tucked in the chest pocket of her shirt, speaking into it frankly with a push of its button. “Patient S013 is feeling unwell. Feverish. Permission to move from Room 11 to the Medical Bay?”

Sylus held his breath, willing whoever was on the other end of the radio call to grant the cold woman the permission he didn’t know she would need. He’d only ever been to the Medical Bay once before, and hadn’t ever wanted to return. Being examined and tested by strange scientists everyday was bad enough. He had no interest in spending time with the nurses who tended to him after his surprise surgery.

“Permission granted,” a male voice affirmed through the radio.

The stern lady grabbed suddenly at his shoulder, pushing him lightly out of the noisy room and down the silent halls. He liked when they were silent. He’d heard enough screams from children to haunt him for life.

The walk to the Medical Bay was short, and Sylus remembered to throw a few sniffles and pathetic coughs into the silent trek to keep up his charade. He must’ve still looked red faced and sickly, the nurse on duty handing him a gown to change into straight away upon his arrival.

He changed as quickly as he could behind a curtain that gave him only a sliver of privacy, tucking the book he’d smuggled from the Playroom into the inner fabric. The nurse checked his vital signs In the small triage room with nothing but a blank look on her face for comfort. Nobody around here tended to smile or show any true emotion towards the children.

It didn’t affect Sylus at all. He didn’t know any different. Didn’t remember a time when someone smiled at him. Or when he had smiled at someone else.

He wasn’t sure if he ever had.

The small, sterile Medical Bay was empty as he followed the nurse inside—save for the tuft of the girl's hair he could see peeking out above her blanket. He almost audibly sighed with relief to see her, but the fact that something was wrong enough for her to even be in the Medical Bay struck alarm bells in his head.

“Patient S113 isn’t feeling good, so try to be quiet,” the nurse told him. She pulled back the covers of the bed next to the girl, hurriedly ushering him to get in before giving him a syringe of medicine to take. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

He nodded, waiting for her to turn around before he took a look at the sickly girl a few feet away. The skin on her face was shiny and damp in the stark light of the strip lights above them. She didn’t look well at all, and had the thin, white blanket pulled right the way up to her chin.

The nurse administered a dose of something fluorescent yellow to her in another syringe, pressing her hand to the girl’s damp forehead with a tut. Sylus could’ve sworn that the nurse sighed a little in concern.

“That medicine should make you feel a bit better soon. Try to sleep,” she murmured to the girl quietly, moving the strands of hair that were stuck to her skin before leaving the room.

He didn’t know what to do once the nurse closed the door behind her. The quiet girl looked so…deathly. Her colouring was a good few shades lighter than it usually was, and there was a greyish tinge to it too. Whatever was going on with her, it didn’t look good.

“What happened?” he blurted quietly.

She slowly turned her head towards him, blinking a few times to focus her eyes. They widened a little when she realised it was him.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice small and croaky.

The sound hurt something in Sylus’s chest. “What happened?” he repeated again, sitting up a little further in the bed to get a good look at her.

The girl lifted a shaky hand, pointing straight to where her heart was. “I think it’s broken,” she replied.

Sylus frowned a little. He didn’t know that hearts could break. Bones could break, he knew that much. He’d seen broken bones quite often in this place. Her heart wasn’t like most people’s—he knew that too.

But it couldn’t break. Right?

“Are they going to make it better?”

She blinked at him a few times, and he really studied her. This was the most they’d ever said to each other in conversation, but it didn’t feel strange or wrong like he thought it might. It felt natural. Almost like they were both still here in the wake of so many other young patients’ departures for a specific reason.

He found himself wanting to know more. He wanted to know everything about her heart—including how to fix it.

Her weary eyes glanced around the room for any listening ears, and she shifted the blanket down from her chin so she could see over it. She eventually whispered back to him, “I’m not sure that they’re even trying to fix it.” She took a shuddering breath in, wincing a little bit. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

That’s when he noticed it.

In the absence of the blanket, he saw the gnarly tail end of a stitched up incision where he would usually see a bit of the bandage she always donned on her chest. He may have been young, but he knew without having to ask what the lab coats had done to her. They’d done the same thing to him once before. Put him to sleep without warning to poke and prod into the innards of his most interesting body part—his right eye. He had no idea why they were so interested in it, or why they were equally as interested in her heart. But whatever the reason, it was mutually exclusive to the two of them.

“They’ve done that to me, too,” he reassured her quietly, trying to shift that anxious look from her tired face. She didn’t know what was going on, so he felt a duty to soothe any worries on her mind. “I woke up in here with a big bandage over my eye before you came to live here. Couldn’t see properly for a few weeks, but it got better. Like your heart will.”

The girl looked apprehensive, but seemed a little bit more settled to know that he’d been in the same situation previously. They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before she spoke. “You’ve been here for a long time.”

It didn’t sound like a question, but he answered like it was. He didn’t want to stop talking with her, hoping it was bringing her some semblance of peace. “I have,” he confirmed with a nod. “Me and twelve other kids were the first here. That’s why I’m patient S013.”

“Thirteen is supposed to be an unlucky number,” she whispered.

Sylus cocked his head to the side, wondering if she was kidding. He’d never heard of that before, but if she was right, it would make perfect sense. Patients S013 and S113 being the two most focused on subjects in the lab coats’ top secret experiments did seem a bit too coincidental in his mind.

He sure did have a lot of time on his hands to think about things like that, too. She was the one hundredth kid after him to arrive, and ended up stuck here with him for the foreseeable. Maybe whichever newcomer unlucky enough to be patient S213 would end up in their same predicament.

“We’ll find our luck one day,” he finally responded, exuding all of his confidence into that one sentence. He was determined that he’d fight his way out of here one day, and that he’d be able to bring her with him. He wasn’t strong enough—not yet. But whatever they were doing to him here, he’d use it to his own advantage once he got a good understanding of it. “Maybe we’ll both get out of here, and we can see what the world is like.”

The girl smiled. Smiled at him, even in her state. It wouldn’t have been possible to not smile back, no matter how unnatural it felt for the corners of his lips to curl.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Her blinks were slowing down, and she looked sleepy. “That would be nice. I’d like to see the ocean one day, like I’ve read about in books.”

Sylus suddenly remembered the book he’d smuggled in, still resting coldly against his stomach beneath his gown. He quickly reached down into the neckline, grabbing it out and waving it up for her to see it.

“I could read to you, if you want? While you fall asleep.” He wasn’t sure if it would help her in any way, but the familiarity of a book seemed like the best form of comfort he could think of for her.

Her tired eyes lit up a little, and her smile widened. It struck something in Sylus’s heart, and for a moment, he wondered if he had a heart problem. He’d never felt such a feeling, but he liked it. It felt like a real feeling. Not just the horrible physical feelings of aches and pains.

It was a mental feeling. A caring feeling.

He settled himself back against the plump pillow behind him, opening up the book. It was a children’s fable that they’d read many times before, and the one book he enjoyed hearing her read. He checked on her once more, making sure she was still awake and eager to hear him read.

The idea of a book seemed to wake her up a bit from her fatigue, but even so, Sylus would read the book over and over until it lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

He quietly cleared his throat reading the title aloud the way she always does.

“The Kitten Who Met The Crow…”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little story! I think the lab rats theory is so interesting and couldn’t resist this sweet little idea! I’ve been a bit slow on the content recently and I do apologise, but I’m in the midst of moving into a new apartment and the stress of that on top of the way my neurodivergent son is struggling to cope with it has turned my brain to mush. Things should settle soon and I’ll be back on the requests 🤍

#love and deepspace #sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace mc #child!reader #child!sylus #lab rats #love and deepspace fanfiction #sylus fanfiction #sylus fanfic #sylus fluff #love and deepspace fluff #lads mc #sylus l&ds #sylus lads #love and deepspace fic

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atimeofyourlife · 1 year ago

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Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.

Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.

Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.

But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.

It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.

When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.

And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.

A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.

A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.

Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.

He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.

After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.

The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.

After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.

It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.

Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.

When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.

He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.

Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.

It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.

(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)

¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time. ²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)

This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #platonic stobin #steddie #pre steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #atimeofyourwrites

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roseykat · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 14

TITLE: Some things are better left unknown

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x Felix x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: a threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

TAGS: explicit language, threesome, oral sex (f!reader receiving), porn with plot, use of the name 'baby girl' and 'angel', swearing, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex but protected anal sex, double penetration, big dick!Chan agenda, praise, slight body worship if you squint, kissing/making out.

A/N: Aussie line fucks hard, bye. (If there are mistakes, I will fix them. Currently running on v low sleep)

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @luneskies @queenmea604 @kibs-and-bits @kbitties @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung

Milk, nori, rice, raw tuna, coffee, yoghurt, bread, and eggs.

This was all Chan sent you to the supermarket for. All of which could have been easily picked up from the convenience store down the road. Maybe minus the raw tuna which has to be high grade since Chan wanted to make an attempt at onigiri for the first time. However, you would’ve saved an entire trip to the busy supermarket.

Not to mention, grocery shopping sucks in general. At least that is when you’re on your own. In your apartment that you share with your good friends Chan and Felix, two people are responsible for the shopping per week which rotates each time.

If you’re with Felix, sometimes you both tend to muck around. Not to mention forgetting almost a quarter of things on the shopping list which ends in a stern lecture from Chan. On that matter, if you’re with Chan, it’s an in-and-out task at the store in less than ten minutes.

Efficient and practically timeless.

Even though it’s no trivial matter, you manage to get through the pointless shopping before heading home to the apartment. These could’ve been picked up at the convenience store, you think to yourself again. A sigh leaves your lips as you unlock the door, bumping it open further with your hip as you slide your shoes off.

“I’m back. Remind me to buy an umbrella next time-”

Your body freezes on the spot. The bag of items falls from your possession, collapsing onto the floor. Something inside it broke but it’s nowhere near enough a distraction for what is in front of your eyes.

Maybe you need your vision checked because if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then you wouldn’t have just seen Chan and a topless Felix who are both making out. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, still lip-locked until they caught onto your presence.

For the few seconds you stood there, rooted to the ground, felt the absolute longest.

Neither of them was as internally panicked as you when they noticed you standing there. Nor did they have hundreds of questions zapping around their brains in the span of a few seconds. It was like your entire vocabulary had turned to dust and were blown away because there were no words to describe what the hell was happening.

Maybe it was a dream.

“T-That was quick,” Chan stammers with an awkward chuckle, breaking away from Felix, almost pretending like nothing just happened.

Felix looked like a complete mess. Dark brown hair mangled - clearly from Chan either running his fingers through it or tugging it - the air gets stuck in your throat with those two theories in mind, painting very interesting visuals and an odd sensation in your stomach.

Chan looked equally dishevelled. There’s a dark red splotch peeking above his collarbone that you had no trouble guessing how it got there. On top of that, his pants were already half undone, and his lips were bitten red and wet, and they both looked so…so…

“What…the fuck…” you manage to speak once your mind has cleared the only one per cent of its capacity to grasp the circumstances.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Felix quickly says as he stands up from Chan’s lap and walks over to you.

It was useless for him to try to take advantage of your shell-shocked state because once your surprise had completely thawed out, your words started coming back to you.

“Oh my god, what am I even doing?” You ask, clamping your hands over your eyes, ready to head right back out of the apartment. “I’m heading out.”

“Wait!” Chan calls out, arm outstretched towards your direction. “You don’t…you don’t have to go. If you want, you can maybe join us. If…if you like.”

Join them? Blindsided by those words, there was no trouble for the difficulty you had in trying to figure out if you heard right or just imagined what Chan said. Why would he ask you that question? But more importantly, why were they hooking up in the first place? It was evident that there had been something going on between Felix and Chan - unless this was just a new one-time thing.

However, even if it wasn’t, you had been left out of the secret. Nonetheless, you quickly came to your senses. Whether they hook up or not is none of your business.

“J-Join you?” You stammer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chan emphasises. “It’d be rude to not let you in on the fun.”

You definitely weren’t hearing things, and this wasn’t a dream.

At first, you can’t understand why you’re even considering their request, but there is one piece of information that sprung to mind and that’s your sex life. It hasn’t been entirely sex-filled as you’d like it to be, not to mention your slight lack of experience with threesomes wasn’t vast - but it also wasn’t limited either, especially after that encounter you once had with two of their friends Changbin and Hyunjin on a separate occasion. Although, they didn’t need to know that at all.

That being said, this takes the cake. You can’t even comprehend what Chan or Felix are like in bed but, the opportunity seemed too ridiculously hot to pass up.

“You...you want me to-“

“Like Channie said, if you want,” Lix assures you, interrupting your babbling.

You aren’t somewhat surprised that Felix would ever want a threesome. He’s had sexual partners here and there in the past, multiple ones at a time. However, Chan never struck you as the type to have sex with more than one person. Even after a year of living with him and getting to know him, he’s still pretty private and exclusive.

With the matter at hand and the more you think about the prospect in front of you, you aren’t opposed to the idea. So with your brain taking full control of your body, you hesitantly step over the discarded groceries lying on the ground. This is happening. Felix picks up on the right cue and extends his hand out to you as you take it gently.

He guides you over to the edge of the bed where Chan is still sitting, but as you’re led over, he rises to his feet. There were a few seconds where you’re a little bit bewildered by what’s going on, but when you look into Chan’s dark eyes and as he takes your free hand, you become more centred.

Before you know it, he leans down to kiss you and kisses you good. You’ve never felt anything like it and as Felix releases your hand and sneaks behind your body, your mind starts turning into jelly. He gently swipes your hair to the other side of your shoulder while his other hand freely roams around your waist, underneath your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. His mouth places chaste kisses from your shoulder up to your neck.

It feels so heavenly to be sandwiched between them; Felix kissing, biting softly over your skin while Chan continues to explore your mouth. It was impossible to think that just a few minutes ago, you were at the grocery store and now a complete world shift just seems to be occurring within that time frame.

Chan breaks away from you for a second, kissing you tenderly one last time before sitting back down on the bed and moving up to the headboard. God this is really happening. You’re too deep in it now to not follow him like a lost, yet obedient puppy. You can see that he’s hard and want to touch him so badly but-

“Sit between me and face towards Felix,” he instructs before you can even reach for him.

Your cheeks burn. While you have no idea what’s entirely in store, your body is getting excited and very obviously, so is Felix. He crawls over to you once you’re snug in between Chan’s legs before he tugs your shirt up from the hem and tosses it aside. Then, he finds your lips and kisses you until you have to silently beg and chase him for it.

Squirming in place, you feel hot and subjugated by Chan sitting behind you - snaking and trailing his hands around your now half-bare body, and Felix in front of him, who’s now gone on to give his supposed man some attention too.

He’s up on his knees with his body so close to you that you can feel the heat from him. Chan tilts his head up from resting on your shoulder and lets Felix take what he wants. The slick wet sounds of them both kissing along with the tiny moans you can feel in your ear, makes you shiver all over. You’re only still comprehending this all, that this is still actually happening.

“So needy,” Chan says as he breaks away from him, inches away from his face when Felix hears and feels you unbuckling his belt. He straightens back up and consumes how flustered you are, observing the way you blink up at him pleadingly, displaying how badly you want it now.

Felix smirks, gently grabbing your face with one hand and lowering down just enough to kiss you senseless again. But he cannot stray away from his other plans so frees himself from your lips to help slide your pants off down and discards them to the side.

Immediately, you can see where this is going.

“Aw, look how bad you want it,” Felix comments, swiping his thumb over the damp spot of your underwear with enough pressure for you to muffle a whine by biting down on your lip. You do want it bad and already seem to be losing a fight to the pleasure Felix is barely giving you.

“Don’t tease her too much,” Chan cautions.

Felix doesn’t seem to hear the warning for him as he helps you shimmy your underwear down. From there, Chan takes over. He hooks both of his legs over yours and separates them to not just expose you for Felix but to hold you down for what’s about to unfold.

Heat accelerates through your cheeks as you feel embarrassed. At this point, your brain hasn’t caught up with the fact that you never show this much skin, let alone any skin in front of either of them. But that was going to be an afterthought for you when Felix distracts your mind by gently prying your legs open from your bent knees.

Pathetic whimpers slip past your lips as Felix lies down on his stomach, his face inches away from your pussy while he pets and glides his two fingers in between your folds.

Your head shoots back onto Chan’s shoulder, very narrowly missing his face, “f-fuck…oh my god.”

Without warning, you feel the tip of Felix’s tongue lap a few times over your clit. If it weren’t for Chan acting as a human restraint to hold you down, there would’ve been a solid chance of you lurching forward. His arms are still wrapped around your abdomen, preventing you from moving forward so that you can take what Felix is giving you.

It’s cruel, but Chan thinks it’s necessary for you to feel everything. Which you do when your hands grip each of Chan’s thighs, nearly squashing him backwards between you and the wall.

“How does it feel?” he asks you.

“F-Felix, mmm-” you breathe out his name, unable to answer properly and feel some vibrations from Chan’s chest to suggest that he was chuckling. Mainly at the fact that you weren’t able to directly answer his question.

But it’s not long until the room quickly fills with your whimpers and moans mingled with the beautiful wet sounds as Felix keeps eating out your pussy. Tingly sensations spread like wildfire throughout every cell in your body from his mouth. It’s gradually becoming impracticable to keep up with his tongue. Not that you’ve ever imagined it before, but he does give good oral, good enough to put your breathing pace out of whack when he sucks on your clit.

He’s not afraid of enjoying himself either. You can hear and feel his moans reverberate throughout your lower half. It even adds to the sensation of bliss that’s forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. So even though you don’t know, this is as good for Felix as it is for you. To him, it’s like going to heaven.

What you also didn’t seem to know was when Chan unclasped your bra from behind your back and placed it to the side. His hands went from just holding you to now groping and playing with your tits as your body continued to melt into Felix’s mouth.

“You’re loud aren’t you?” Chan whispers in your ear, rolling both of your nipples in between his thumbs and fingers to make you mewl and squirm. The different methods of pleasure send interesting messages to your brain that only make that crest of ecstasy build higher.

You can only mewl until coherent words appear in his brain and out through his mouth, “s-sorry.”

Felix’s head game is so ridiculously mind-blowing that it makes you forget what language you speak.

Chan chuckles, purring into your ear, “don’t be sorry. You just can’t help it can you?”

His hand circles up to your jaw, tilting it towards his face. He confirms in his mind how much of a mess you are. Cheeks stained pink with a fucked up expression that reads ‘I need more’, to which Chan reaches down and kisses you, sloppy and lazy.

The velvety feel of your mouth when you open up more is slick with warmth. It’s starting to become more obvious how close you are when you start moaning repeatedly into Chan’s mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you after this,” he breaks away, just inches from his lips again.

You never would’ve guessed that Chan was even capable of forming such a dirty sentence. Then again, you never would’ve guessed that you would ever be in the position that you’re in now - having a threesome with your two housemates.

“I’m…you’re gonna make me cum,” you sob, turning your head towards Chan on his shoulder, almost as if you were trying to escape the expansion of euphoria. He couldn’t help but kiss your forehead, waiting for you to brace for that wave.

“Yeah?” Chan rouses. “Want to cum for us baby girl?”

You nod, too helpless to form an answer when you’re on the cusp of a forceful orgasm. He underestimated the strength he needed to hold you down, especially when you’re about to cum. So just when he needed to add more force, your body stiffens. Your legs so desperately crave to clamp around Felix’s head to help triage the pleasure, but it’s no use when Chan has you completely locked in.

Your eyelids flutter, head pressing back further into Chan’s shoulder, “yes! I’m cumming!”

With ragged, heavy breathing, the all-consuming pleasure takes you by the throat as the pleasure surges without control. Even though you’re being held down, it doesn’t stop your body from quivering. It lasts for what feels like an entire minute – one of the best orgasms you think you’ve ever experienced.

Felix’s tongue slows down to a snail's pace, licking a few final stripes before kissing his way up your body, from your clit, abdomen, and then up to the base of your throat. His chin glistens as he adorns a smug smile.

“Fuck…” you sigh out defeatedly, the aftermath of experiencing a volume of pleasure was starting to take its toll. “Oh my god.”

Chan kisses the side of your head, “sound so beautiful when you cum. Lix, switch with me so I can fuck her, yeah?”

“Wait-“ you pause, trying to reorient yourself as you hold onto Chan’s forearm for support. “I wanna ride you.”

Felix looks down at you, “you sure angel? Channie isn’t exactly small.”

From that statement alone, it was obvious to you that Felix was speaking from experience, a strong indication that they had in fact mucked around at least once in the past if not multiple times. But it didn’t matter if Chan or Felix for that matter was packing twelve inches, you needed to have something inside you to tame that need of feeling full.

“I want to ride you-“ you nod to Chan – “but I want you to fuck me at the same time-“ you indicate towards Felix.

Neither of them expected you to be into that. Then again, they didn’t necessarily expect you to join them in bed either so anything was a surprise to them at this point. Chan and Felix can’t deny how insanely hot it is to hear you not only ask for them to do something but specifically ask you to do that.

“Are you sure baby?” Chan has to ask you for assurance.

“I can…I can take both of you.”

Still stunned at your answer, Felix ushers to Chan, “you heard her.”

He cannot lie and say that he’s not excited, because he is – they both are. So while Felix goes into the bedside table for a condom and lube, you move yourself off of Chan, turn around and start unbuckling his belt and helping him take his jeans off, almost like you’re in a rush. The imprint of his hard dick is enough to make your mouth water, and as Felix said, Chan definitely isn’t small.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, reorienting himself on the bed so that his head is on the pillow.

Felix returns with the items he needs to help prep you, taking it as a sign to straddle over Chan’s legs and slowly tug his black boxers down. His cock springs onto his abdomen, the dark pink tip reaching just under his belly button. He had to be at least eight inches. Maybe just under, just.

“Ready angel?” Felix asks, kneeling behind you as you straddle Chan. The position would allow you to not only ride Chan but to take Felix from behind too, a dream so delicious that you can’t help but wonder how it was still all possible.

“Yes,” you mutter.

“Okay then,” he replies.

Chan then holds the base of his cock steady for you, watching you slowly take those eight inches. The tip of his dick gently slots into your pussy, taking your time with sinking down. The warm heat engulfs his length, already sending shockwaves throughout his lower half.

“That’s it, baby,” Chan says encouragingly, his fingertips delicately massaging over the skin of your things. “Good girl.”

You bite down on your bottom lip at the extraordinary stretch. In the meantime, Felix squirts a dollop of the lube onto his fingers to warm it up a bit before applying it to your hole.

He thumbs over it, sending shivers up your spine. It’s vital to him to make sure that you’re prepped well for him to fuck your ass. So he starts small by slowly inserting the tip of his finger, before gradually using slow yet long strokes, enough to make your head loll back.

Felix has to express in awe when he sees the result of your efforts to fully envelope Chan’s length, “look at that. You took all of him, angel.”

You know very well that you have because you can feel him in places that other men in your past haven’t reached. The stretch still sings a bit but it could easily be confused with the gorgeous satisfaction of Chan filling you right out.

“So…big,” you strain out, scratching your nails down Chan’s abdomen, almost like a cat, just not as painful.

Meanwhile, as Felix has slowly been stretching your hole out with his fingers, he uses his teeth and his free hand to peel the foil back of the condom packet. He had already freed himself from his jeans when he went to reach for the lube beside the bed so was hard and ready to roll the condom down his cock.

“M’ready Lix,” you say to him, unable to see the smile you brought to his face from how eager you are.

“I know baby, just one second,” he replies before aligning his cock with your hole.

Very carefully and slowly, he starts pushing his tip in. Your eyes flutter shut, steadying your breathing in the process in preparation to take all of him as well. Chan rubs up and down your arm, distracting you from the temporary sting. With the lube doing its job, Felix can continue to push in at a leisurely pace right until he has the majority of his cock wrapped up by you.

“Doing so well Y/N,” Chan says reassuringly. “Just stay like this for a bit until you’re ready to move yeah?”

You nod, allowing your body and muscles to relax and ease into the pleasure that’s starting to fade out the burn. It’s difficult to comprehend a fuller feeling than this; to have two cocks stuffed in you to the hilt, and after a few moments of getting used to it, you slowly start to move.

“Mmm, yes fuck,” you sigh with satisfaction, using your hands on Chan’s abdomen to steady your body as you being to move your hips. “You both…feel so fucking good inside me.”

Your words were difficult for Felix to not listen to who was trying to ward off from thrusting for a little bit until you were comfortable with him starting to fuck you. It wasn’t until your movements became a bit quicker that he began to catch up to your pace. Very quickly did the room turn into a space brimming with moans, wet sounds, and the sound of skin slapping. It was plenty to add to the intense sensation you were hurtling towards.

Chan’s eyes are fixated on watching your pussy swallow his cock with every long stroke you take on him, “oh my god.”

With his tank top still on, Chan lifts it by the hem and holds onto it with his teeth. It wasn’t just to make sure that your hands weren’t going to be slipping on him as you use his abdomen to support yourself when you rock down, but it was also to restrict a whole bunch of moans that were about to rip through his chest. But even that couldn’t put a lid on the groans and growls rumbling from him.

“Taking us both so well angel,” Felix says exasperatedly in your ear.

His deep yet velvety voice has you leaning back slightly so that half of your back is pressed against his chest. With the help of you turning your head towards his face, Felix’s mouth crashes onto yours, almost tasting the remnants of yourself from before. He kisses you passionately, moaning into your mouth like he’s going to die if he doesn’t.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls, diverging from your mouth to dive into your neck to suck a few hickies in and groping your tits from behind. “Can’t get enough of you dammit.”

You sob out as he pinches your nipples, but also when Chan reaches down to your pussy, finds your clit and begins to rub in perfect motions, “god – fuck, I can’t…s’too much!”

Their cocks hit spots so phenomenally that each time they stroke over them, your holes involuntarily clench around them. Not to mention the total stimulation they were feeding you.

Felix’s hips haven’t faltered since they started pumping forward into your ass. The upward curvature of his cock seemed to be scratching the part of your brain that is responsible for making your eyes roll back. Chan’s dick on the other hand had you shaking. The length and girth were sickeningly satisfying.

“Not gonna last,” you whine, still keeping up the same pace when you rock down on Chan and feel Felix continue to thrust in and out. “So close…”

The hem of Chan’s shirt is long gone from his mouth, already given up on trying to suppress whatever was going to come out, “gonna cum for us again, huh? Such a good girl, taking us both at the same time.”

Chan couldn’t lie either, but he was close a long time ago, probably the second you decided that you wanted to ride him. Felix happened to be on the same page. He couldn’t get over this entire situation, finding it so fucking hot that even just a dream of it would be a blessing.

Words start to slip away from your brain once more. Aside from your orgasm swimming towards an astronomical high, you try to cling to that amazing feeling before it eventually disappears. But all good things come to an end. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs while Felix has one arm barred just under your chest as the other hand doesn’t let up on your nipple. It throws your pace off balance and staggers your breathing when you start reaching that very pinnacle of euphoria.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m cumming!” You scream out.

Your thighs clamp around the frame of Chan’s lower half, shaking and shivering in place as the pleasure reaches its apex. Felix didn’t let up on his pace, fucking you all through your orgasm as Chan replaces your motions by fucking upwards and into you. Both of your holes spasm and contract around their dicks, enough to actually make them cum by the time you’ve reached the height of your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, holy fuck, s’too good,” Felix’s head rests on your back, watching his cock disappear in and out of you before he starts to bust inside of the condom. His fingernails brutally dig into your hips when he cums.

Your moans easily fill up the room once more now that you have no choice but to succumb to the euphoria when your orgasm hits its hardest. Chan’s head tips back further into the pillow, eyes screwed tight shut as he’s hit with a tsunami of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaims loudly, his chest heaving up and down as he spills inside of you. He’s lucky that he did because as the pleasure reached a point where it was too much for you to bear, you slowly lean forward towards Chan, their cocks sliding out of you in the process.

On each exhale your body shudders, like the surges of aftershocks while the pleasure slowly plateaus. From this angle, Felix can still see you contracting, watching Chan’s cum leak from your pussy. If he wasn’t so fucked out, he would’ve had the energy to eat you out again.

In saying that, he is the first to recover and come to his senses a bit faster than either you or Chan. He takes the condom off, ties it, and discards it in the rubbish bin in the corner of the room before putting his boxers back on. Meanwhile, you’re still panting trying to catch your breath, resting on top of Chan’s body, you feel his hand run soothingly up and down your spine.

“Such a good girl for us,” he says caringly. “Felt so good.”

Felix sits beside you both at the top of the bed. He cards a gentle hand through your hair, observing your distant expression, “you there baby?”

You blink up at him and nod, your brain still trying to process that sort of orgasm.

“When you’re ready, we’ll get you cleaned up yeah?” He smiles softly down at you.

As the minutes ticked by, Felix lent you a helping hand to stand up when you were ready. Even though you were wobbly on your feet, he still guided you to the bathroom and ran a nice hot shower. Both Felix and Chan joined you in a bid to make sure you knew that they were there, dousing you with as much praise as an individual could get – and they meant every word.

When you were ready to hop out, Chan fetched you one of his warm jerseys and placed it straight over your body before telling you to hop in his bed while he went to gather up the towels and clothes from the bathroom. Just as he was picking up the last items, Felix caught him right as he was about to walk out.

“She okay?” Chan asks him.

Felix nods reassuringly, “out like a light.”

“Alright then,” he sighs contently. “She’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, staring at a space just to the side of Chan who picks up on the subtle behaviour.

“Is there something wrong?” Chan asks as a slight concern balloons in his chest.

“When are you going to tell her?” Felix asks.

Chan stares at him, trying to figure out what he means, “tell her what?”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “that you like her, idiot. That we like her.”

That had been a distant thought for Chan for some time. The possibility of that ever working out between the three of you seemed like a long shot. You only all slept together. There was no depth to it other than that even though deep down, Chan would’ve liked it to be for the sole purpose that he likes you. But it’s not just him.

It’s also the one standing at the doorframe, staring right back at Chan; Felix.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #chanlix #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #chanlix x reader

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cafeleningrad · 6 months ago

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Real talk, Wakaba is such a wild card. She constantly messes up Akio's plans.

So, in the new circle of duelists between the Student council, Utena wasn't actually planned to participate in the duels. In fact, it's questionable if either Akio or Anthy knew that Utena was on Ohtori campus in the first place. They've all three forgotten about each other. Everyone is surprised that Utena wears a duelist ring. Also, Anthy is genuinely surprised at Utena winning against Saionji. Her shock is genuine as this was the only duel she didn't rig. Saionji entirely underestimated Utena.

But who was responsible for Utena wanting to duel? It was Wakaba. Wakaba was so hurt by Saionji's ridicule, Utena wanted to fight for her friend's honour.

Then Touga beats Utena in their duel, and Utena is deeply distraught. She can't get out of her crisis. Finally Akio's game is going according to plan. The guy playacting the most accurately the role of Princehood got the rosebride. But then Wakaba gives the most insightful real talk ever needed, and pulls Utena out of the darkest place. Once again Akio's plans need reconsideration, so he needs to set up the Black Rose duels to indoctrinate Utena into beating other people down (unknowingly). But yeah, Wakaba interrupts Akio's plans again.

Then there is the Black Rose arc. Unlike with the other Black Rose duelists, Wakaba gets a two-parter episode in which her conflict has a long set-up. Saionji ending up at Wakaba's is sheer coincidence because he has nowhere to go. And suddenly Wakaba steps out of her role as unconditional best friend. In fact she becomes somewhat of a shoujo-protagonist: Regular girl, but then shines in school, with three potential love interests. So Akio has to totally bullshit his "exceptional individual" theory because genki gal Wakaba with regular, unnoticable brown hair is bathing in the spotlight.

Hence, it becomes scary when in the Akio arc, even Wakaba doesn't notice the impending dangers exuding from Akio.

#Revolutionary Girl Utena #Shinohara Wakaba #I love my girl Wakaba

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threeacttragedy · 15 days ago

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Entry 3 – The One About That Guy, That Girl, and the Dragon

I’m just going to jump right on my magical pixie pony for this one – because why the fuck not? But, I promise this speculation has a foundation of fact. So, there’s that.

On Sunday, November 10, 2024 – seemingly out of nowhere – Zoe McConnell posted to her IG stories a picture of Nicola from a photoshoot from November 2022. Yes, you read that right – 2022. Zoe reposted this to her stories exactly two years from the day she first posted it to her grid.

Why?

Uh, happy anniversary to the picture? [feel free to scratch your head in confusion because I sure as shit did – but only for a second]

Who cares about a photoshoot from 2022?

And, don’t even get me started on the weird ass suggestion this was a push for Nicola to win – what bullshit award show is up next? – People’s Choice Awards. Actually, do get me started on that because that theory just makes my eyes roll. The only connection I see here is that the dress Nicola is wearing was from her 2022 Glamour Awards appearance. What exactly does that have to do with People’s Choice? Nothing.

Now, forget all about that shit and keep reading.

What IS interesting about this post from Zoe is that, if you’re a certain creator or anyone who has ever read this certain creator’s timeline, you’d know that this picture is referenced in said timeline (P.S. My disclaimer today is that I am not a fan of said creator but that doesn’t negate the information she has distributed to the masses).

Here’s what happened two years ago:

On November 9, 2022, Nicola posted one of Zoe’s images to her own grid, thanking Glamour for her award. Luke liked this post.

On that same day, Nicola posted a second set of pictures from that same photoshoot. Luke did not like that post.

The following day, November 10, 2022, Zoe posted one of those additional pictures to her own grid. Luke liked that post from Zoe’s grid. But, he did not go back and like Nicola’s second grid post from the day before. Why? Why go to Zoe's grid instead of Nicola's to like the pictures? I could speculate on this for the next eight minutes but I’ll let you come to your own conclusion.

So, this past Sunday, Zoe posts to her stories a link to that November 10, 2022 grid post that Luke liked. Nicola reposted Zoe’s story to her own IG stories. If you’re a Nicola fan, I can probably guess what you're going to do next. You’re going to click on Nicola’s story – which takes you to Zoe’s page – and when you click on Zoe’s stories – it takes you to the original November 10, 2022 post, which Luke liked at that time.

Odd, that.

And, by “odd,” I mean odd in the fact that no one cares about a two-year-old picture. I mean, really, who fucking cares? Except Lukolas who see Luke’s like on the original post.

Let’s keep moving.

On November 11, 2024, Zoe was right back at it. She posted to her IG stories another picture of Nicola from the same photoshoot. This time it was the one Zoe originally posted back on November 11, 2022. Yay, another anniversary. Zoe put a cutesy little caption that read: “Princess Peach.” Nicola did not reshare this story. I mean, at this point, we’re all watching Zoe, right? No need to reshare because our Lukola interest has been peaked, in my opinion.

Then, a few hours after Zoe’s post, Rachell Smith, also a photographer, posted an old picture of Luke to her grid. This picture isn’t as old as Zoe’s but it does go back to May 2024. Rachell follows it up with an IG story of the same image with the song, “Lifting You” by Jungle. Take a moment and go look up the lyrics and meaning of that song. Fine, fine, fine. I’ll just tell you. The song is about being deeply committed and doing whatever is needed to make a relationship work (this, per Mr. Google). Rachell’s caption? “[O]ur knight and shining [Luke].”

Well, fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

We have a princess and we have a knight.

Interesting.

I mean, we grew up with this idea that the knight in shining armor saved the princess, right?

To be honest, yesterday, I had no clue what that was all about (and I really didn't care -- the seas have been rough for the USS Lukola lately) so I went about my day like normal.

But, this morning, the wheels and cogs in my head started working together.

I wondered how that ever came about – the idea that a knight saved a princess.

So, I asked Mr. Google: “Where did the story about a knight rescuing a princess originate?”

Okay, yeah, I see Perseus and Andromeda…and in Western culture….Saint George and the Dragon…

Wait --

What?

Saint George and the Dragon?

Nope. Not possible.

But, I was certain it was.

I scurried over to Tiktok to find the post I’d seen a few months earlier about the medallion Luke wore for a long time – the one Nicola allegedly gave him. The TT creator believed that the necklace depicted none other than Saint George and the Dragon! Now, I must add that this has never been confirmed but the TT creator did make a fairly convincing argument for it. This is also the necklace Luke was allegedly wearing in the “Polin” picture that was released simultaneously by Nicola and Luke on October 21, 2024 (based on the chain of the necklace he was wearing).

Delulu?

Yeah, maybe.

But, we also can’t make this shit up.

Edit (11/14/2024): Today, Luke's People Magazine photoshoot came out. Guess who his photographer was? Zoe McConnell.

Again, we can't make this shit up.

#lukola #nicola coughlan #luke newton #speculation only #my opinion #my thoughts #we can't make this shit up

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elodieunderglass · 1 month ago

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I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.

No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.

Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?

Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.

Some things I would explore with this include:

what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?

I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!

- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?

- why are hobbits teeny tiny?

A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”

I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”

If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.

It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.

…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends

In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.

And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads

#I can’t possibly be the 1st to feel there is a huge land justice element to how hobbits are framed #i’m sure somewhere in the thousands of papers of Tolkien academia #and meta fandom #some other clever person has written about this right #right

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weebsinstash · 10 months ago

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There's an unconfirmed theory that the love potion Velvette and Valentino sells is his spit, and literally just the spit in his mouth is a doping aphrodisiac

Like ok here's something I've considered. Say you're a new Sinner in Hell. You meet him night ONE down there. You've got nowhere to stay. You're watching people be stabbed and robbed outside, but here in the studio, you're sitting with this Mr Valentino who you just met. It's obvious that he's fucking trouble but he's a much more welcoming option to the unhinged chaos outside (especially if you're a woman, being without shelter is WOOOF dangerous)

It really depends on the person, but technically, isn't "sleep with me and I'll give you a place to sleep for the night" like actually an incredibly lucky almost one sided deal in this context?

So Reader agrees. It's- It's just sex right? It isn't... THAT bad? But little do you know, even just kissing him can turn your mind to mush. He's got his tongue in your mouth and, he suddenly starts asking all these really intimate, personal questions. You've already been drinking, and now with his red hot aphrodisiac delivered straight into your mouth, you're basically hopped up on ecstasy. One minute you're talking with Angel, not sure where you're going to go, the next, you're in Valentino's lap, willingly letting him shove his tongue down your throat, drinking after him, taking shotguns of smoke from his cigarette while he asks you how many times you've had sex, what your favorite positions are, just... he'd have you in the palm of his hand.

There's an Angel Dust fanart comic about Val luring AD into the room where he has aphrodisiac burning like an incense and Angel is being drugged just standing in the room and I can totally see Valentino doing shit like this. He's just chilling with some of his girls and they're all sitting around basically making out and being horny and drinking and doing drugs, and Valentino is still making you fetch him drinks. At some point you're standing there and he sees you wobble a bit and he realizes you're getting the secondhand smoke and suddenly he's intimately curious how you look and sound when you're embarrassed and starts teasing you and becomes addicted to it

Valentino is a sadist. You want me to believe he'd see Reader there hot in the face and starting to sweat and suddenly nervously giggling at all of his flirtatious comments and filthy questions and he WOULDN'T start groping you up just to hear you squeal for him to stop? Please. And then once you're all loopy and easily manipulated, then he'll start laying on the charms, the compliments, the promises. He could treat you so well, baby, and all you have to do is just have a nice little... cuddle session with him once or twice or dozens of times :3c and he always gets you so fucked up first that, really, his offers just sound like the most fun in the world...

#yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #yandere x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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Miguel’s Reaction to You Taking Him to Watch The Barbie Movie

Warnings: Mainly Just Miguel Being Defensive, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miguel Secretly Being a Barbie Girl, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel loves you. So, so much. And he would move Heaven and Earth to ensure even an ounce of your happiness.

However, he is 100% convinced that this excursion, this ‘girls’ day out’, will be anything more than a mind-numbing jaunt to the cinema.

At first.

He can’t deny that his heart sank and all enthusiasm he held for your date drained from his body the second you said the words ‘Barbie’ and ‘Movie’ in the same sentence.

But alas, he swallowed his dismay and took you out, plastering on a thin smile while he thought of a million and one things you could both be doing besides watching this masterclass in colour theory.

Sat beside you, packed in on either side by yourself and the many other attendees, waiting for the film to begin, Miguel can feel his patience trying to escape, trying to convince him to run, to get out while you still can!

Because of his heightened senses, he can hear every single word passing between the crowd. And with every mention of “Pink”, “Ryan Gosling,” and “Margot Robbie!” he can feel his mind numb.

The film starts. And for you, sending a watery smile your way, while your eyes sparkle with nostalgic wonder, he endures.

Five minutes in, Miguel is assaulted by pink. The very essence of the colour and all its vibrancy sends hot pink pain through his skull, his senses raw.

Quietly, he slips his sunglasses on.

This is going to be a long movie.

And, for the first quarter of the film, Miguel held that notion. Near and dear as if it were the antidote to the current situation.

Then, halfway in, the story started to intrigue him.

The colour scheme is…tolerable now. Even pleasing to the eye in some scenes.

And, dare he say, Miguel found the music to be catchy.

Two thirds in and he’s sat forward in his seat, hands clasped and his lips resting atop them. Not that you can see, but his eyes are blown wide, his mind arace with possible outcomes.

By the end of the film, Miguel’s holding your hand, forehead pressed to your shoulder, a single, silent tear illustrating his cheek.

“Miggy?” you say, leaning over to try and see his face. You recognised the singular jutting of his shoulders immediately. And, with a smile teetering on the edges of your lips, you try to console him.

“Mig–”

“S’nothing. M’fine,” His cut-off is blunt and non-negotiable. You drop the subject and escort him from the screening by his arm, the music bright as the credits roll. The dimness of the room gives way to light, gradually, slowly. The streak of Miguel’s tear glistens.

Miguel’s visceral reaction to Barbie’s movie doesn’t stop when you get home, by the way.

It actually gets worse.

If you’re lucky, you can catch Miguel reading articles on his phone, an unmistakably pink banner and the title of ‘Top 10 Things You Missed in The Barbie Movie!’ leaving little to the imagination.

Confronting him about it will lead you nowhere. Miguel will sooner shove his phone up his ass and pretend it never existed than admit that he is indeed curious as to what happened to that one background character who fell off a cliff in that one scene. Is she okay? Does anybody know where she is? Does her family know?

The fact that you find his curiosity (empathy) endearing, ‘Aww’ing at him and pinching his cheeks, makes him ever the more secretive.

Just about secretive enough to keep his volume to a minimum when he’s singing; tunes which you know are from the soundtrack.

“I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world~”

“Babe, what was th–”

“Nothing.” He’s blunt, but there is haste to his tone. Shame, even.

Occasionally, you’ll see him eyeing up Barbie-themed merch when you’re out shopping. But he never makes a move to purchase any. Not for himself, anyway.

He’ll buy you said merch – anything that catches your eye, your fancy. Even if it is a shirt ten sizes too big.

“Babe,” you say, pinching the shirt up at your shoulders, the fabric in enough excess to cause the neck to expose most of your chest. “I may be wrong here, but I’m fairly certain only you would be able to fit in this shirt.”

“Oh, well, guess I’ll just have to take it off your hands, then,” he says, his elation barely concealed behind his faux-disappointment. As if him doing so is a chore – that he’s doing you the favour by taking the garment whose shoulders could only fit his insane proportions.

Please just buy him the merch. Any shame he may feel upon initially receiving it will fade when he realises – when you reinforce – how his liking of Barbie is “Adorable, yes. But uplifting; it’s so relieving to see that you’ve found something you actually like that isn’t to do with the Spiderverse!”

“It’s actually called the–”

“Yeah, I don’t care, Babe.”

His favourite present you ever got him was a brightly-coloured exercise suit Barbie and Ken wore in the movie. He had to turn away, the fabric neon in his periphery, tears filling his eyes and balling in his throat when he saw that you’d bought a matching one.

“So we can fight crime in style!”

Miguel’s watery smile twitched, faltered. His Brow furrowed.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” he said. “You don’t think my suit’s fashionable?”

The way your face drained was enough to spark laughter in Miguel’s chest. His only line of defence against the tears that pricked his throat, played him like an instrument, with you as the orchestra’s master.

While he can’t wear the suit out on superhero duty, he does keep the headband on beneath the suit.

A reminder of you when he’s throwing himself at every threat, every monster, every evil, the band a halo hugged to his skin; a slim substitute for your warm touch, your scent, but a reminder all the same.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

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