#i don't know what I'm talking about and it's a problem

[prael]

Day 4: A Two-step Problem

Nmixx Sullyoon & Kiss of Life Belle x male reader smut

words: 9,667 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"She's coming here? This weekend? To this house?" The concoction of shock and confusion, topped with a little bit of annoyance, is in both Sullyoon's tone and expression. "This house!? This same exact house that I am sitting in!?"

Her outburst quickly settles into a sulk as she slouches in her dining chair. Her father turns to your mother for help that she doesn't offer. He's on his own with this one.

"Look," he starts gently. "She's my daughter too and I want to get to know her. I haven't seen her in years."

"You barely talk about her." Sullyoon counters, arms folded defensively across her chest. Her tone is laced with accusation. "I don't know anything about her."

Your mother shoots Sullyoon a glare, one that causes Sullyoon to step well over the line.

"Why are you okay with this? Another daughter that's not even yours coming into our home?"

You stare at your food, praying for the ordeal to be over.

"Stop being silly," your mother reprimands. "You are my daughter, and I'll treat Belle as my own too."

Sullyoon gives you a side-eye, and while she doesn't say anything else, you can see how desperate she is for you to take issue with it too. While you may not be as opposed as Sullyoon, you do have a reservation. "Where will she sleep?" You finally speak up, looking at your mother.

"Sullyoon, can she stay in your room?" she asks.

"No!" Sullyoon snaps. It's clear that she's still processing her frustration.

"It's fine." You turn to your mother. "She can take my room, I'll take the couch."

Sullyoon goes quiet for a moment, her mouth falling open in shock. She looks almost offended that you're not fighting by her side. Then she asks, "What's wrong with you?" and rolls her eyes when your answer comes in the form of an innocent shrug.

"Thank you," your stepfather says, shooting you an appreciative smile. Sullyoon's chair scrapes the floor as she stands up abruptly.

"I'm done." After a curt announcement of departure, she's already headed to her room.

Her father sighs. "Let her go," your mother advises. "She'll come around."

-

A few hours have passed since the revelation and you're in your room. Soft pillows beneath your lower back and slouched against the wall. The soft tones of music from the speaker across the room fill the air.

"Can you believe that shit?" Sullyoon curses the whole idea. "Belle, my long-lost sister, is coming to live here. What are we, some kind of 90s sitcom?"

"Can we not do this right now?" You respond, struggling to focus on both her and her words at one time.

"I thought you were on my side." She pauses for a moment and lets out a soft sigh. "You didn't even argue it."

"It's not that deep, Sullyoon," you grunt out the words, as her hot breath hits your face.

"Yeah well..." She falters. "...It is to me." You feel her fingers thread through your hair before finding a handful of the short strands at the base of your skull. You hiss, feeling her pull on them lightly, but you don't fight back. "Do you think she'll be annoying? And say loads of weird American things?"

"I don't care," you dismiss, putting your hand on her thigh and holding the flesh tight.

"Oh." She clears her throat and adjusts her position. "Well, I do care."

"You might get along." Your tone lacks commitment. It's almost impossible to focus with the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils. You bury your face into the crook of her neck. "You smell so good."

"I bet she thinks she's better than us."

"Sullyoon!" you snap. "For fuck sake!" You put your hand on her waist and lift her off your lap, letting her naked form fall lazily onto the bed beside you. "Conversation or sex, choose one."

"Hey!" She exclaims, annoyed about being pulled free from your cock.

Your irritation quickly fades away as you turn your head to look at her. Her dark hair spills out beneath her, messy, wavy and soft. Her smile is mischievous while her dark eyes sparkle with humour and intrigue. A million thoughts cross your mind but none of them can beat out the singular reminder that she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Her features are uniquely hers and yet, they seem perfectly matched to your taste.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about her then."

There is a shift in the energy of the room. She turns away from you, positioning herself on her knees and resting her cheek against the pillow below. There she lies in wait, ass on display for only you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you clamber behind her.

You reach out and wrap your hands around her hips, squeezing her flesh in between your fingertips. "Sullyoon." The syllables roll off your tongue. "Sometimes, things are hard." You press your cock, still coated in her slick juices, against her waiting cunt. "But you have to just take it."

You push into her pussy from behind. You watch the way the hole expands and stretches around you. The soft, pink walls give in to your intrusion. You hear the little gasp and moan that Sullyoon releases upon feeling you enter her again. You keep going until her round little ass is flush against your hips and the full length of your cock is buried inside her pussy.

From this angle, Sullyoon can do little more than submit. And so she does, allowing you to hold her by the hips, dragging her body back and forth until it moves in line with your rhythm.

"See?" you tease. "Feels better this way, doesn't it?"

"Fuck..." Sullyoon whines. "I hate when you do that."

"What?" You chuckle and spank her across the ass before grabbing a handful of her flesh once again. "When I talk down to you like that or when I make you feel like a little slut?"

"Yes." She squeezes her eyes shut. You listen to every pant and every moan. You feel her thighs shake and tremble against your skin. You know she loves this; there's no other reason why else she would allow you to take over her body and treat her this way. The two of you may bicker and argue and fight, but none of that matters when you're alone together in your bedroom, exploring one another. For all your arguments, you know there isn't another person in the world that feels as perfect wrapped in your arms.

As taboo as it may be.

She looks at you over her shoulder through misty brown eyes with pouted lips, looking all too delicious to touch. "Please," she begs in a small voice that sends a chill up your spine. "Harder. Faster."

"Good girl." The words flow seamlessly from your lips. You hold tighter onto her ass, for fear of the pleasure making her collapse against the bed. You start pounding into her from behind. Each slap of your hips connecting against her ass rings out against the silence of the room.

Sullyoon's hand grips the pillow beneath her head, squeezing it tight as her outlet for her building pleasure. It becomes too much, and she lets out a long moan. You're quick to lean in, take hold of her head and bury her face against the pillow.

"Quiet," you scold. You slide your fingers into her mouth and let them rest against her tongue. She welcomes you in, letting her lips seal around your digits. Her tongue runs laps across the tips of your fingers and the sensation causes an involuntary twitch of your hips.

"There we go," you coo. You can tell by the way she squeezes down on your length that she likes it when you praise her. She might try to play tough and cold, but you've learnt exactly what buttons to push to get her melting at your touch.

You can feel yourself edging closer, and so you reach down further. Sullyoon's clit is sensitive when you press your finger against it, judging by the way she bites down on your fingers. It takes only a few gentle rubs to bring her to the same point as you.

She whimpers softly against your fingers. You can almost feel the muffled cries vibrating against your skin as the knot of pleasure in her tummy begins to unravel. "That's it," you whisper. "Be a good sister and cum with me."

Sullyoon bucks and thrashes in pleasure. She reaches her orgasm at the same time as you and the two of you ride out the waves together. With each throb, you fill her up until she's practically overflowing. Finally, she collapses against the bed and you follow her shortly after. Her chest heaves against the bedsheets, tired and worn, and finally satisfied.

"You can't call me that," she complains, voice strained. "It's not cute, it's gross."

"And yet every time I do, you seem to cum harder," you respond simply. She rolls her eyes and scoffs, before shuffling into your embrace and resting her head against your chest. You both lay in silence, spent bodies wrapped up in each other's warmth. You absent-mindedly draw circles along her bare arm while she draws in deep breaths against your chest.

"I'm serious about this Belle thing." She breaks the quietude, her voice soft. You sigh heavily. "I don't want her here."

-

And yet, Saturday comes around just like clockwork.

The five of you sit awkwardly in the living room. A tray of drinks rests on the coffee table, untouched, and Sullyoon keeps shooting you pointed glares. The situation could be cut with a knife.

"It's such a long journey," Belle explains, talking fast and with a certain chirp in her voice. "We had to leave at five AM for the airport. It was still dark!"

"Oh my!" Your mother gushes. "So you must be tired." Sullyoon rolls her eyes hard.

"A little," Belle admits. "But I slept most of the flight so it's okay."

"Don't worry," you add politely. "It's a quiet area, you'll be able to sleep in tomorrow." She has only been here an hours but it's impossible to deny how charming Belle is. She's got a wide smile and sweet expressions—just a natural aura about her that makes her easy to speak to. It doesn't hurt that she's pretty, with large, dewy brown eyes, and soft hair resting on her shoulders. She wears a pair of jeans that hug her legs tightly and a top that's tied above her belly button.

She gives you this wide smile, that she's already given countless times, and thanks you, adding, "That sounds like heaven." Sullyoon's scoff catches everyone's attention. Four pairs of eyes fall on her and she squirms, hating the spotlight.

"Something wrong, dear?" your mom asks. Sullyoon shakes her head and reaches forward to grab her glass of lemonade. You can't help but let out a tiny laugh. Your mother shoots you both a suspicious glare but doesn't say anything.

You hadn't even noticed that Belle had been looking at you, but when you turn to meet her gaze you feel your stomach flip upside down. It could just be your overactive imagination but something in the look she's giving you has you flustered. Then she laughs too, albeit nervously. Your cheeks warm up and suddenly you have to look away.

"It's almost lunch, how about you help us in the kitchen, Sullyoon." Then your mother looks at you, "and you can show Belle where she'll be sleeping."

"Uh, sure," you reply, your words being met by Sullyoon shooting daggers with her eyes. Once your parents and your stepsister are out of sight, you gesture to Belle and she stands.

"The house is huge," she remarks, following you out of the room. "My old place was basically a box compared to this."

"Well, we live in the suburbs." You shrug. "I can show you around town later if you want." The two of you head up the staircase to where the bedrooms reside.

"You'd do that for me? Really?"

"Of course," you chuckle. Her giggles send goosebumps across your flesh. You pause for a moment and point down the hallway, "Mine is this way."

"This is so cool," Belle whispers. Really? A house is cool? "I always lived in this little studio apartment. My bed was right next to my kitchen."

Her casual remarks about her life, however mundane they are, are captivating. It's nice to meet someone so different from your usual friend group. "What was it like in the city?"

"Different from here," Belle responds. "It's loud all the time and the streets are busy, no matter the time or day." You push open the door to your bedroom and she follows in while she continues, "It was exciting but also way too much, you know? The parties were crazy—like movie-level crazy."

You gently nod as her thoughts trail off and she starts looking around the room. You watch as she takes it all in. Having made at least half an effort to clear some space for her, it looked kind of bare, compared to usual anyway. "Here," you offer, leading her over to your wardrobe. You slide open a couple of doors and explain, "This section is empty and you can hang your clothes up here."

"You didn't have to. I've lived out of my suitcase before when I travelled."

"No bother. You're a guest, make yourself comfortable." You gesture around the room. "I cleared the desk in case you need it and the sheets are fresh." (Which is good, after what you and Sullyoon had been doing the night before.)

"Thank you. This is already better than I could have ever hoped." When Belle smiles again, you feel a little flutter in your tummy. "Sorry about earlier," she adds. "Was your sister mad because of me?"

"She'll come around." You give a half-hearted assurance. Sullyoon's feelings aren't yours to share, but Belle does deserve some peace of mind. "Don't worry about her."

"I always wanted a sister, I hope she likes me." Belle nods gently, a faint expression of disappointment flashing across her face before fading back to neutral. She pauses and purses her lips together for a second. "And...you? Are you happy I'm here?"

"I've had to put up with one annoying step-sister for a long time, a second can't be much worse," you joke. A laugh leaves her lips and the tension dissolves instantly. The two of you stay silent for a few moments before you notice Belle starting to squint. "What's wrong?"

"It's really hot in here." She places her hand on her forehead as if checking her temperature. The thick beams of sunlight that are streaming in through the open curtains highlight her point. Sweat has started to gather on her neck and brow.

"Lemme fix that." You push open a window and draw a blind down. Belle waits patiently behind you as the bright morning sun vanishes into a muted grey. "There we go," you announce, turning around—and coming face-to-face with her. You freeze as if trapped by her intense gaze.

Her cheeks are flushed and her skin is hot. Beads of sweat shimmer in the sunlight. She stares at you, silently saying something that you can't quite decode. She smells sweet, like vanilla.

"Thanks." Her voice is soft, almost as delicate as the moment itself.

"You're welcome..." You say back, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"Uh, how about the rest of the house?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be showing me around?" She laughs and her soft tone breaks the tension. You shake the daze out of your mind and clear your throat.

"Of course. Let's go."

You point out the rest of the rooms, and then show her the bathroom, explaining, "My parents have their own so this is basically ours." As you head downstairs, you let her know, "Just try not to take the world's longest showers like Sullyoon." Belle laughs, which gives you the chance to admire how cute she looks when she's smiling.

-

It's been a low-key couple of days. Belle spent the whole time fawning over how cool it was to live out in the suburbs and subtly cursing how she had grown tired of the city—though half it felt like a sly brag. You had taken her into town the day before last, and while you're sure she would have been fine going back alone, she's asking you to take her.

Much to the annoyance of a certain someone.

"But Sunday is movie night," Sullyoon complains, lying on her bed. You're standing in the doorway, arms folded, telling her about your plan to accompany Belle.

"I'll be back in time and we can watch whatever movie you pick this week," you dismiss, already knowing she isn't going to listen to any attempt of yours to compromise. "Also, you could come with us."

"If I did come, then I would be hanging out with her, and I don't want to hang out with her." Sullyoon states blankly.

A quick glance to your side and you see Belle, standing in the hallway, hearing everything that Sullyoon is saying. There's a small pout that forms on her lips. A glimmer of sadness in her eyes. You feel a pang of sympathy. While Belle tries to smile as if it's nothing, you see right through the facade.

"Don't worry," she says. "I can go on my own." And with that, she heads off downstairs. You turn to your stepsister and shoot her a harsh glare.

"C'mon! Don't give me that look." Sullyoon pouts dramatically. "She's a big girl, she's used to being independent."

"Would it kill you to at least get to know her?"

"You're busy doing that for the both of us." She shoots an accusatory look. "Is one step-sister not enough?" Her words drip with insinuation, and you feel your face flush at what she's implying. You roll your eyes and curse at her, which makes her stand and walk towards you. Before she speaks, she pulls you by the arms and closes her door. "Oh come on! Admit it," she presses. "You think she's cute, huh?"

"So what?" You shrug and avert your gaze, cheeks red.

Sullyoon pauses, processing your answer. "Do you wanna fuck her?"

"Sullyoon!" You snap, feeling the blood rush to your head.

Her grin is devious, "You want her to replace me? Huh?" She teases. "Get a brand new stepsister who sucks your dick extra well?"

"You're sick."

"Oh, please. I've seen the way you two look at each other. Don't be surprised if she offers to top and tail with you tonight." Sullyoon smirks, "The couch must be so uncomfortable." Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

-

She said it was just going to be for essentials. A few shops to pick up items that didn't fit in her bags for the plane trip over. Yet, somehow, you find yourself browsing designer dresses for sale.

"It's my first weekend in a new country," she explains, pulling a silk purple dress free and pressing it up against her body. "Don't I deserve to treat myself?"

"I guess, but dresses like this? When are you planning on wearing them?"

"To dinners. To a club. On a date?" She cocks an eyebrow. "Who knows?"

"Wouldn't it be better to make the plans and then buy the dress?" You suggest with a laugh. Though you hate to admit it, the sleek material would look great on her.

"You hungry?" she asks. "How about dinner?"

"We should wait until we're home. Mum is expecting us both."

"Do you always do what you're told?" Belle pries.

"No...I—" You hesitate. She tilts her head to the side and flashes you a mischievous grin.

"Great. I'll get changed into this, we can dump the bags in the car and find a nice restaurant." She declares decisively. After rummaging around her bag for her wallet, she turns to face you. "Wish me luck, it's probably expensive."

"Wait—"

She's walking away before you can protest. You watch as she goes up to the woman running the place and pays for the dress. After that, Belle disappears behind a dressing screen. All the while, you're standing there, holding bags and looking confused.

There are a few silent moments. Ones where you try to formulate an excuse to turn her down; but just as quickly as they appear, the arguments vanish. In reality, the idea of a nice meal with Belle isn't exactly unappealing.

The curtain is drawn back, and she appears.

Wow.

It takes less than a second for your eyes to land on her waist. How the deep purple fabric hugs her figure so nicely, wrapping tight around her curves and squeezing her form. It's strapless and plunges into a v-neck that shows off so much skin. The hem stops mid-thigh and swishes with the movement of her hips.

"So? How do I look?"

You swallow, clearing a lump in your throat. "Incredible."

"That means you're paying for dinner then."

"Hey!" You start to protest. But it's no use, she's already laughing, slipping on a pair of white heels that pull the outfit together perfectly.

The restaurant she chose is tucked away from the main street. The soft yellow light glows through a window pane, casting a warm haze onto the sidewalk below. She holds your arm as she walks, using you for balance. The smell of her perfume hits you just as hard as her outfit does, sweet like vanilla.

"This place looks pretty fancy, right?" she asks with a cheeky smile. "You won't mind treating me, will you? After all, I have moved halfway around the world."

You roll your eyes and follow her in. A waiter welcomes you both, and seats you at a small booth in the corner of the dining room. A candle flickers in the centre, between glasses and cutlery. Belle scans the menu and occasionally takes sneaky glances across the table.

"So, how often do you take girls on dates?" she pries. "Not counting me."

"It's not that often, really."

"Then I must be special," she remarks playfully. "But don't worry, you're pretty cute too."

"Oh yeah?" You decide to play along. "Enough for a second date?"

"Hmm... maybe." The conversation is light and easy and just seems to flow naturally without needing any prompts or effort from either end.

Once you've ordered, Belle sips on a glass of wine, staring at you intently, her gaze unwavering, "I wish Sullyoon liked me as much as you do." Her statement catches you off-guard.

"I'm sorry for the way she's acting," you apologise. "She's probably fearing being replaced. She has always been a bit of a daddy's girl."

"I guess I can understand where she's coming from," Belle concedes, swirling the drink in her glass, watching as the crimson liquid swirls around gracefully. "I would be hesitant too. Change can suck sometimes, especially when it's unexpected." She takes a sip and then continues, "I was talking to my dad for a while, about coming over. And you know what he would talk to me about, every time?"

"Sullyoon."

Belle chuckles lightly and puts down her drink. "Yeah. He couldn't help himself. Always talking about the things she was doing. The friends she had. All those clubs she took part in. Made me so excited to meet her."

"Oh..." Now you understand.

"When I got here and realised that I wasn't gonna get a warm reception, it kinda hurt."

"Yeah. I know she can be...stubborn. Sometimes." You sigh. "Don't give up though, I know you'll get to know each other eventually."

She looks at you with hopeful eyes. "You really think so?"

"She warmed up to me eventually." You shrug and take a bite from your food.

"And how long did that take?" Belle asks, her tone playful once more.

"A couple of years."

She laughs again. "Ah, shit." She sits back in her seat, and then looks at you, intrigued. "What changed?"

"Maybe we realised we have stuff in common, or that we were more similar than we thought."

Belle tilts her head to the side, seemingly mulling over what you said. She purses her lips and squints her eyes like she's trying to connect invisible dots. She stabs at her pasta and silently returns to her food.

"What was that?" you ask.

"Nothing," she dismisses. "So, I heard you mentioning a movie night."

"Yeah," you reply. "It's kind of a tradition. We pick a shitty movie, order some pizza, and make fun of it."

"Guess I'm ruining that now?" she suggests.

"It's just one time, we've missed it before and I'm sure we'll miss it again."

"Maybe next week I can join you?"

You think about how movie nights usually end. Sullyoon, spread across a bed, with your head between her legs. You remember the feeling of her soft skin and warmth, the sound of her moans filling the air. And now that memory includes Belle sitting beside you both.

You choke on your drink slightly.

"Oh God." Belle gasps. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, drink just went to the wrong place is all." You cough. "Yeah, sure, you can join us."

Time passes so easily. The conversation is nice, and she's such an interesting woman. She talks about her life, the places she has been and the people she has known. And you reciprocate. By the time the check arrives, you feel like you've known each other for much longer than four days.

"You know, my dad talked about helping me find my own place. I can't keep your room forever," she admits as she's finishing up her last drink.

"That's fine, I can survive on the sofa."

Belle chuckles at that. "I feel bad for putting you out like this." Her fingers reach out to brush yours, lingering there momentarily before retracting. The contact sends a shiver up your spine. "How about we share the bed?"

"Excuse me?" you say in shock. She laughs again.

"Not in that way. I mean, we can put pillows between us or something. It wouldn't be weird, just two siblings sleeping in the same room." She pauses and chuckles. "Unless you snore."

"I don't!"

"Well, I guess we'll find out."

-

When you finally return home, the house is eerily quiet. Both your parents' cars are missing and Sullyoon has retired to her room. Belle carries her purchases while you follow close behind.

As you step onto the landing, Sullyoon's bedroom door opens. She's dressed in one of your shirts. The light that floods out highlights how long her legs are, with her toned thighs in full view. She stands and watches Belle walk into your shared bedroom, before turning her attention to you. "So?" She asks, arms folding.

"So, what?" you counter.

"You going to apologise for ruining my weekend?" she huffs, arms crossing defensively. Her pouty expression almost tempts you to bite back.

"You were invited."

Sullyoon scoffs. "Oh yeah. So that I could third-wheel. No thanks."

You pause and chew your bottom lip. "Did you get to watch the movie at least?"

"Yes, alone." Her frown intensifies. You try not to laugh at how adorable she looks. "Goodnight."

She stomps back into her room and closes the door behind herself. You bite back an amused smirk. Sullyoon has the tendency to be petty, but you never seem to realise how far she'll go until she does it. Still, you decide not to dwell on it, knowing that Sullyoon would rather ignore the problem than confront it directly. She'll forgive you when she decides to.

You round the corner into your room, bags in hand, and that's when you see her, pulling down the zipper that runs along her spine. The fabric falls in ripples and reveals her back. From the arch between her shoulders down to the dimples in her lower back, the milky skin is exposed. Your throat dries up instantly.

"How am I supposed to feel about you ogling me like that?" Belle jokes, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyes shimmer with intrigue.

"Sorry." You quickly spit and then turn around. She doesn't say anything but you hear her light steps over the carpet as she rounds you and closes the bedroom door.

"I was joking," she says while facing you. Her hair falls over her shoulders and ends right above the cup of her bra. She looks like a model straight out of the pages of some lingerie catalogue. You struggle to stay composed.

"So was I," you reply, pretending to be cool while you turn away again to set the bags down in the corner of the room. Belle laughs under her breath.

"I've gotten used to living alone. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put something on, but I'm used to sleeping in nothing but the covers." she offers. "But I don't mind, honestly."

The silence settles between you two and becomes deafening. You let out a nervous sigh. "It's okay," you finally state, grabbing shorts and a shirt and heading to the bathroom to change. "Just give me a moment." Once inside, you strip yourself of your clothes and run the water from the tap. You cup your hands together and fill them before splashing the cold water onto your face. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

This isn't a big deal. It doesn't have to be. You're going to be cool about the whole thing. You can handle having another gorgeous stepsister lying beside you in bed. It won't be hard at all.

You put your clothes on and march out of the bathroom. Belle has made herself comfortable in your bed, laying back against the pillow with her phone in hand. Her eyelids are half-open as she scrolls through social media apps lazily. The bedsheets cover her up to her shoulders.

"I've always slept on the left," she states absently, eyes still glued to her phone screen. You gulp. She pats the empty space beside her, invitingly. "That means you're on the right."

She turns off her phone as you enter the bed. As you slide under the covers, she turns and slides away to give you room. Your legs brush against hers by accident. Her smooth calves rub against yours and you freeze up. Then you feel her hand reaching out, touching your arm gently before drawing away again.

"Are you shy?" she asks with a tiny giggle.

"No," you lie, hoping that your cheeks aren't too flushed from embarrassment. The room goes pitch black when she flicks off the lamp. Only the distant glow of a street light shines through the curtains. Your eyes adjust and you make out her silhouette against the bedsheets.

"Just relax." Her voice echoes softly in the dark. She places her hand atop yours and squeezes firmly. She brushes her fingertips up along your forearm, stopping briefly near your elbow before trailing them back down again. Each stroke sends little shivers shooting up and down your spine. The effect of her touch is hypnotising; a powerful yet delicate combination of warmth and tenderness.

The movements continue for a while, in silence, as your eyes grow heavy.

"Sweet dreams," she whispers.

"Night Belle," you manage to mutter. Before you know it, you drift off to sleep.

-

At first, you don't even register the sensation, as if you are in a dream. First, it's the tickling of her hair in your face, followed by the feeling of her soft skin in your hand. Then it's the warmth, all along the front of your body. Belle is pressed against you tightly and your arm is around her. Holding her as the little spoon.

Your eyes flicker open.

You lay there in shock, unsure what to do, but also unwilling to move. The warmth radiates off of her, soothing every inch of you that she touches. Her breathing rises and falls slowly, as though she hasn't stirred yet. Her fragrance surrounds you, intoxicatingly sweet, leaving you lightheaded.

You try to adjust the arm that's trapped under her but she threatens to stir awake, mumbling unintelligibly against the pillow, as she shuffles around to get comfortable against you again. She moves her body against yours and presses harder.

Suddenly, you become very aware of exactly which parts of your bodies are making contact. Her ass grinds up against your crotch and the sensation causes a wave of heat to course throughout your entire core. Panic kicks in as you will your morning wood to retreat as quickly as possible. Yet no amount of willpower can stop the natural reaction to her plush butt cheeks.

You focus your attention elsewhere, trying to distract yourself by thinking of mundane tasks to pass the time—anything to prevent yourself from acknowledging your growing arousal. You count the speckles on the ceiling and list off ingredients of your favourite foods.

It doesn't work.

You have to get out. You start by pulling away your body, minimising the contact and creating separation. But then there's your arm, still stuck under her. Gently, ever so gently, you lift yourself away, trying to drag your limb free.

"Leaving already?" comes Belle's question. Her tone drips with mock offence.

"What? Uhhh.." you stutter. Shit. Not good.

Belle flips around to face you. In the morning glow, she's positively radiant. A beautiful angel bathed in warm sunlight. Her silky hair flows delicately as she turns. She flashes a devilish smile and says, "Look at that, our first night sharing a bed and you're already cuddling with me."

You're speechless. Blood rushes to your cheeks and you feel your heart beat faster in your chest.

"It was nice," she smiles. "Even if you were poking me in the ass."

Your jaw drops. Shame bubbles in the pit of your stomach and causes your skin to prickle. She laughs and pushes the sheets down to your waists. She's fucking topless. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of her breasts, perfect teardrops that hang deliciously against her chest, crowned by erect pink nipples. The sight sends you reeling into total disarray.

"You can't help it, I know." Her voice cuts through your dazed thoughts like a blade slicing through butter. "All guys wake up horny." She shuffles a little closer. "I can help it, though." Her hand snakes down beneath the sheet, into your shorts, and suddenly there's the unmistakable sensation of her fingers wrapped around your cock.

"Belle—" Her name leaves your throat weak and cracked. Heat envelops you and your brain goes into overdrive. No way is this real.

"Shhh," she whispers, leaning in until her lips are hovering close to yours. "I want to help," she says with a mischievous smirk.

She starts slowly stroking your dick. At first, it feels strange and foreign, but gradually melts into pleasure as the friction increases. Belle continues to stare, watching as the corners of your mouth twitch and twist, as if studying her own effect on you. Every time your breath hitches she seems to gain more confidence. She grips tighter and works her wrist faster, building up a steady rhythm.

"See, we can share this room." She keeps moving her hand up and down in perfect strokes, varying the pace every few seconds. Sometimes fast and firm, then slow and gentle. It's enough to drive anyone mad. "Isn't it great?"

"This is so messed up," you manage to groan out as your hips lift involuntarily.

"Is it?" She kisses the corner of your mouth. "Doesn't seem that bad to me."

She's right. It feels incredible. Despite everything, you don't want her to stop. You lean into her, desperate for her to kiss you, but instead, she pulls away, giggling softly. That only serves to frustrate you further, which seems to encourage her even more. She quickens her pace and leans closer to you again, stopping inches away from kissing distance once more.

Your eyes grow heavy again, but this time it's not sleep that overtakes you. Instead, it's bliss.

"Belle, what the fuck..." you whisper. Pleasure is burning hot in the base of your gut. Her wrist rolls as she jerks you off harder. "Why..."

She lets you go, hand slipping out of your shorts as quickly as it entered. "Here." She cups your hand in her own and pulls it towards her chest. "Feel free to touch." You know what happens when you allow temptation to guide your actions. Sullyoon is a case and point.

Despite that, you're unable to resist.

Her breast fits perfectly in your palm. So soft. Your fingers graze over the sensitive nipple. The moans that follow sound heavenly, even more so when accompanied by her coy smile. Without warning, her lips press against yours, sealing off any sort of protest. Her tongue dances across your bottom lip and into your mouth. Soft. Wet. Hot.

Heat pools between your legs. Her hand returns to its former place around your cock. She's so slow now, achingly deliberate. Your mind spins endlessly; overwhelmed by desire.

When you pull back, she gives a sly wink, "Tell me what you think, hm?"

"It feels so fucking good," you sigh. She responds with another kiss. The room fades to silence beyond your muffled moaning and wet kissing sounds. Time itself seems to grind to a halt.

"I knew you'd enjoy it," she murmurs into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before continuing, "Now...how about you return the favour?" Her words trail off as she lifts one of your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue twirls around it for a moment and then releases it with a wet pop.

"Sure," you mutter, too distracted to care about anything else. You slip your hand beneath the duvet and then push at her hip, turning her onto her back. You admire her upper body. From her chest to the curve of her hips, to the dip of her waist, she looks divine. Belle lies back and spreads her legs. And when your hand snakes between her thighs, she raises her arms above her head and grips the pillow tight.

"Fuck," she gasps as your fingertips run along her slit gently, enjoying how she bucks upwards to meet your digits.

"You're soaked," you marvel.

Belle grins wickedly and exhales slowly. "Mhm," she agrees. "And who's fault is that?"

"Me," you respond quickly.

You brush up and down her pussy with agonising slowness, revelling in how her slick fluids cling to your fingers, and coat them in their essence. After a few seconds of exploration, you circle her clit slowly with two fingertips. Her eyes snap shut instantly and she whimpers softly under her breath. It's mesmerising. She squirms wildly, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stifle her squeals of ecstasy.

Then she lets out this long drawn-out moan while she squeezes the pillow tight against the back of her head. "Fuck," she curses.

Your finger sinks inside of her effortlessly.

"T-that feels..." she whimpers between staggered breaths. You pump in and out of her, curling upwards against her walls every single time. Her hips sway to meet your thrusts, matching them perfectly. The sight drives you insane.

You withdraw your finger from her depths and circle it across her folds. Her legs tremble in anticipation.

"Please," she begs. Your cock throbs painfully.

She tilts her head backwards, baring the pale skin of her neck to you. An offering. One you take happily.

You press your lips against her soft flesh, savouring her taste. Her scent overwhelms you. You can feel her pulse thrumming frantically just beneath the surface of her skin. There's something intensely primal about being able to feel someone else's heartbeat racing against your own.

Your teeth clamp down on the area between her jaw and collarbone, holding her securely as you explore every inch of her sex with newfound fervour.

It isn't long until she writhes beneath you, panting heavily while clinging desperately to the bedsheets around her. Your movements grow faster, more frantic. Hungry even.

She threatens to get loud, and you know how bad that could be. There's a reason Sullyoon always comes into your room, it's the furthest from your parents, and even then you find yourself putting a palm over her mouth. Now it's just one thin wall. One thin wall separates Belle's moans from Sullyoon's ears.

So you shut her up the best way you know how.

She seems surprised when your mouth crashes against hers, silencing her squeals with your tongue, but the feeling is fleeting. Her arms wrap around the back of your neck, pulling her closer towards you. She tastes like strawberries and smells faintly of vanilla.

You absorb her moans into your mouth as she cums on your hand.

Her thighs tighten around you, locking your fingers deep within her core. She shudders violently as waves of pleasure wrack through her frame. Slowly but surely she relaxes again, letting out contented sighs mixed with tiny giggles of delight. When she opens her eyes again, her pupils are dilated and wide, shining brightly. She stares up at you dreamily. Her cheeks flushed red. Lips plump from kisses.

"Holy shit." Belle exhales hard before speaking again. Her voice still shakes with euphoria. "Good morning indeed."

"Yeah," you chuckle, rolling back to give her space.

"No," she stops you by placing a hand on your stomach. "We haven't finished."

"We haven't?"

"You haven't." She runs a hand down your body until it's back to how all this started. This time, she pushes your shorts clear of your hips and lets your erection spring free. She's climbing up and over you as she speaks, "Let me return the favour. We're family now."

Then she takes you into her mouth. Your thoughts blur together into a haze of lust and arousal, blinding your vision temporarily. Everything else fades away except for this girl who sucks your dick like she needs it to survive. Her tongue swirls around the crown of your tip teasingly while she bobs back and forth steadily. She hums around you, sending vibrations reverberating throughout your entire length, sending tingles shooting up and down your spine.

As her effort rises, so does she. Onto all fours and swinging a leg over yours. She's giving you this look—this hungry stare. You're hers now. Totally at her mercy. She keeps eye contact as she sucks you deeper than before. Then, without warning, her head lifts away from your cock completely, leaving behind a slick trail of spittle dripping down her chin. She wipes it away with her knuckles nonchalantly. Still wearing that predatory expression. Something about the action, the confidence of it, it makes you shiver.

She starts to stroke you, right before she dips her pretty face down to place her lips on your balls. Then it's her tongue, warm and wet against the sensitive skin. She alternates between tender kisses and loving licks all while staring up past your cock to meet your gaze. It's unbelievably hot.

"Don't cum yet," she whispers sweetly before returning her mouth around your length again.

"Can't promise anything," you groan back.

"Cute," she murmurs around your shaft.

Belle works you for a while. Those smokey eyes watch your every involuntary reaction while she worships your cock. Every twitch gets a quiet giggle. Every choked moan is met with a little lick across the tip.

It doesn't take long until the fire in your belly begins to spread.

"Belle," you strain, barely keeping a hold of your composure. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet," she says with a smirk. "Here."

She shifts ever so slightly again, pushing her chest towards her pumping hand. She presses your tip against the hard nipple and jerks you off, alternating between the stiff buds. All you can do is watch, totally transfixed by what's happening before you. Her movements grow quicker and more frantic. Until it becomes almost too much.

You let it out, right onto her pretty little tits. Thick ropes across her flawless skin, painting her while she smiles. Even after you've been spent, she keeps working your shaft until it becomes painful. Oversensitivity has never felt sweeter.

"Oh god." Belle looks down at the mess you've made on her chest. Her grin is devious. She slips off the bed, taking a spare towel from underneath it and wiping at her chest and your crotch. Once you're both clean, she tucks you back in and crawls onto your torso. With a small bounce, she nestles down and lays on top of you. Her chest presses against yours.

"So," she coos, resting her chin on your sternum. "That happened."

You laugh and she quickly joins you. There's a feeling of shared exhilaration hanging between you both. A giddiness that comes from knowing you have just crossed an invisible boundary together.

"That was so fucking hot." Belle brings her palm up to cradle the side of your head affectionately. Her thumb brushes small circles against your temple, tracing patterns along the outline of your cheekbones. After a few seconds, her smile starts to fade. "Do you hate me?"

"Why would I?" You ask sincerely.

"I don't know. You're my step-brother. And I just..."

Her tone makes your heart ache ever so slightly, causing you to reach out for her face and cup her cheek in your palm. "If you hadn't made a move, I would have anyway," you confess.

"You're as messed up as me, then."

She has no idea.

-

Towel and a change of clothes in hand, you start to open the bathroom door when you hear your name. Sullyoon's distinct voice. You hesitate, halfway through the threshold, and turn back to see her walking down the corridor. "So, what, you don't like me anymore?"

"What are you talking about?" You retort defensively.

She puts on this mocking voice. "'Yes Belle, I'll take you to town.' 'Yes Belle, I'll take you to dinner and stand up the sister I actually know.' You've known her for two minutes! Two!"

You feel shame rising inside your chest. It's a weird feeling that just trying to be a good brother (or a bad one) has driven some divide between you and Sullyoon. You try to explain, "She's flown to a whole new country. It's difficult. We have to welcome her. If I didn't have to do it alone then we could see each other more." You sigh, "She really wants to hang out with you, you know."

Sullyoon crosses her arms, looking smug, "Oh, I bet."

"She does," you insist, trying your best not to appear too frustrated with her. "She was excited about movie night and she wants to join us next week." To this, Sullyoon simply scoffs.

"Yeah, right."

There's a pause where neither of you knows what to say. Eventually, it is broken by your stepsister's words.

"Doesn't change the fact that you left me alone on our night." She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip sticking out adorably. You roll your eyes at her antics. Sometimes, her stubbornness can border upon childishness.

"Sullyoon," you say flatly. "Come on. That's not fair."

She shrugs dismissively, clearly unconvinced. "What's not fair is that we haven't done it in almost a week."

You drop your towel and clothes on the bathroom floor and step out quickly towards her. You quickly hold your palm against her plump lips to silence her. "Not so loud."

She grabs your wrist, pulling her mouth free. "Our parents are out, calm down." But then she uses the leverage to yank you forward, right into her arms. "Maybe you should make it up to me."

"Sullyoon." You chastise. Boundaries exist for a reason, and doing this out here in the hallway is not what you agreed. You pry her away and walk back into the bathroom.

She follows each step, and as soon as you turn back to close the door, she's already slipping through and closing it herself. Before you have a chance to protest, Sullyoon's hands grab your face and bring you into a fierce kiss. She wastes no time sliding her tongue between your lips, demanding entry. You resist for only half a second before giving in fully, allowing yourself to become consumed by her passionate embrace. Her fingers grasp tufts of your hair tightly, tugging at the strands gently enough that it sends pleasant shivers running down your spine instead of hurting.

"The hell are you doing?" You eventually ask when she breaks away from your mouth, albeit reluctantly.

"Making up for lost time," she whispers as she slips down to her knees, grabbing the sides of your shorts.

You panic. "Hey, hey—" you exclaim as you stop her. She looks at you confused as to why you aren't happy with getting blown. She furrows her brows and then forcefully tugs them down. Your soft cock springs free, hanging mere inches from her waiting lips. Sullyoon licks them in anticipation while keeping her eyes trained solely upon yours.

But that's when she notices something.

There's a brief moment where the two of you lock gazes; where there should be nothing but lust swimming amidst those hazel irises, there is concern. She inhales sharply, catching a scent which throws her into alert mode. You can practically see the gears turning within her brain.

She stands up immediately, stares you dead in the eyes and says, "What the fuck is that?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, dumbass. You smell like sex and there's lipstick on your cock."

Shit.

"Belle!" Sullyoon calls as she marches back down the hall, bursting into your bedroom. You almost stumble over your shorts and rush to pull them back up to your waist. You dash behind her, terrified at what will happen next.

You round the corner into your room and Sullyoon is standing at the foot of your bed. Belle has her phone in hand, still lying in bed, with the covers up to her chest.

"Slut!" Sullyoon snaps.

"Excuse me?" Belle sits up straight, clutching the duvet to cover herself up properly, glaring back at your sister angrily.

"You heard me. Stay the fuck away from him. He's mine. My brother."

You wince in the silence. Belle just stares at the furious Sullyoon while the gears turn in her mind. Glancing back and forth between the two of you, she's clearly piecing it together. She smirks and then chuckles. "Oh my god! You're fucking him!"

"That's none of your business." Sullyoon retorts sharply.

"Now it all makes sense," she says while pointing her finger and waggling it between you and Sullyoon. "Do I threaten you?"

"No." Sullyoon lies, rather poorly.

"That's cute," Belle laughs. "So, what, you're in love with your brother?"

"No!" Sullyoon snaps, more assured of herself that time. "That's gross."

Belle gives you a look. "So it's just about the sex? What's the big deal?" She asks bluntly. "Clearly he has a type." She gestures to you and smirks again. "There's enough of him to share."

Sullyoon scoffs at her proposal. "Share?" she repeats incredulously. She glances back at you and you offer nothing but a shrug in reply. "Absolutely not," Sullyoon responds firmly.

"Why?" Belle questions innocently.

"I don't wanna."

"Come on," Belle whines, letting her frustration show for once. She throws up her hands dramatically as she argues passionately, "Look, I understand wanting to keep him all to yourself, believe me! He's adorable." As she speaks, her eyes rake up and down your body appreciatively, making heat rise to your face rapidly. "I'm not trying to steal him or anything. Actually, we might just have more in common than you think."

Sullyoon rolls her eyes. "Unbelievable," she sighs.

"Just picture it," Belle insists. "The three of us, here, together."

"What are you suggesting, exactly?" Sullyoon crosses her arms. She isn't going anywhere.

"A threesome."

"Belle..." you caution, but it goes unheard.

"You can even go first," Belle offers casually.

This is ridiculous. Completely absurd. You watch the scene unfold in disbelief. Sullyoon appears to mull the proposition over, her foot tapping impatiently against the carpet as she thinks. There's no way she will agree. Not in a million years would she even consider such a thing... Right?

Sullyoon closes her eyes briefly and inhales deeply through her nose before exhaling slowly. She looks between both of you several times until she finally meets your gaze again and nods decisively. "Fine. Let's do this. Right here, right now." Her tone has turned resolute, decisive, confident, and bordering on cocky.

Your mouth falls agape. Is this really happening?

"Wait. Really?" Belle seems equally shocked by this sudden change. Apparently neither one of you expected her acquiescence quite this quickly or easily.

You look between the two girls. Back and forth. They're doing the same. It's this strange triangle of hesitancy and confusion.

"So how do we...?" Sullyoon trails off, obviously unsure as to how things work from this point forward. She's used to your shared normal, your routine; just the two of you having sex. Spontaneity demands creativity.

"I don't know. It's kinda..." You chime in but don't know how to explain it.

Belle rolls her eyes at the two of you. "Oh my god. Come on." She scoots closer toward the edge of the bed, pulling the duvet away. It slides off her shoulders revealing the perfect curve of her bare breasts. It's not like you've forgotten the sight of them not long ago (nothing about Belle is forgettable) but it sure does hit differently under the context of the situation. She gestures to the bed behind her. "If you two want to fuck, just fuck."

Sullyoon shoots daggers at Belle but still decides to approach regardless. When she reaches you, she grabs your hand roughly and drags you onto the mattress with her. It's all so easy, so natural, falling into a tangle of limbs with her. Even if Belle is watching, even if she's sitting right there. None of that matters anymore because once your mouths collide, everything else fades into insignificance.

You taste the sweetness of her saliva. Feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Smell her familiar perfume, lavender and honey. She's all around you, encasing you completely and enveloping you entirely until all that remains is her. The kiss grows more intense, tongues wrestling as she straddles your lap and grinds her crotch down onto yours eagerly. Desperately seeking relief from the throbbing between her legs.

Then her fingers snake beneath your shirt and lift it over your head, breaking contact. She flings the clothing across the room carelessly before returning the attention to your lips once more. As she leans in for another embrace, you remember exactly where you are, who's there with you, and why they're here.

"Belle—" you start, breaking away mid-kiss. You gesture to her awkwardly as Sullyoon starts mouthing at your neck.

"Mmm?" She answers as she crawls towards your outstretched hand.

"Are you okay with this?"

She takes it upon herself to grab hold of your wrist and guide your palm right onto her naked breast, guiding it around with her own grip. She holds you there until you get the memo, massaging it gently between your digits whilst rubbing her fingertip atop your finger delicately, coaxing you to tweak her erect nipple. "Very," she finally replies.

"This is so weird," Sullyoon remarks, lifting away from your shoulder as Belle moves to her side and perches on her knees.

"It was already weird before I got involved," Belle jokes back, giving you a mischievous grin. She brings her free hand up to cup Sullyoon's cheek.

Sullyoon shies away, "I won't kiss you."

"I wouldn't expect it."

They look at each other for a moment, as if silently coming to some kind of understanding that transcends verbal language altogether. After a few more seconds pass by without further incident, you see them exchange conspiratorial smirks, as though they were sharing some hilarious joke at your expense.

Sullyoon pulls her top over her head, while Belle makes a move at your shorts. For the second time this morning, she's pulling your cock free from them, only this time, she's presenting it to Sullyoon. Her hand wraps around the shaft and starts to jerk it up and down, eliciting a low moan out of you which catches their collective attention. Belle smiles slyly.

In her delicate lace bra, Sullyoon lowers her head, opens her mouth and presents her tongue. Belle presses your tip onto her tongue and Sullyoon is quick to lap at it hungrily. She slides her hands up along your thighs, gripping firmly as she takes you deeper.

"That's hot," Belle murmurs softly, still pumping you.

All you can do is bite your lip and watch as your stepsisters service your length together, competing for its pleasure and attention. They swap turns, passing you back and forth while occasionally meeting in the middle, sucking along either side. It's a little awkward, the way they get in each other's way, but somehow that makes it hotter. Seeing their cheeks squish together, heads bump and lips brush accidentally while fighting for dominance over your dick.

At one point, when Sullyoon has sucked you all the way to the hilt, you notice Belle burying her fingers into Sullyoon's hair. Then the hand slides further, until it cups the back of your sister's head. Then she pushes, holding her in place while she swallows your entire length. Sullyoon panics at first, spluttering slightly against your shaft before she relaxes, settling into the gag, taking it for a bit longer before Belle releases her.

"Fuck!" Sullyoon gasps once she has the freedom to breathe. Strings of spittle connecting her open mouth to the tip of your cock. "Why?"

"Because it's hot," Belle shrugs.

"She's right," you manage to groan out. "Very hot."

"See?" Belle states triumphantly. She places her hand behind your sister's head again, "So do it again."

Sullyoon doesn't put up any resistance. Belle pushes her down, holding her down again as you enter deep into the wet confines of her throat. Sullyoon grips tightly at the flesh of your thighs and tries to relax her body. Despite the initial discomfort, there's no denying that having someone else dictate the terms of her oral servitude adds another layer of eroticism to the whole affair. Belle lets her resurface with a deep gasp for air, spit smeared across her chin, a thin strand dangling precariously between the underside of your erection and the tip of her tongue.

"Look at how pretty you are like that," Belle coos condescendingly while stroking Sullyoon's hair affectionately, almost lovingly even. In spite of everything else, the humiliation of being reduced to such an object, you catch Sullyoon blushing at the praise. Even more shocking, Sullyoon seems to lean into her caresses willingly.

"You've made her blush, Belle." You joke lightly, breaking some tension. It earns a glare from Sullyoon. The humour is short-lived.

After another couple of rounds, during which you have to fight every instinct within yourself not to cum in either of their mouths, Belle asks, "Can I see you ride him?"

One thing is becoming clear: Belle loves to watch.

Sullyoon sits up and wipes the excess saliva from her jawline with the back of her wrist, still panting slightly from being choked so thoroughly. After regaining some composure, she merely nods her consent. There's an underlying tension, however subtle, woven throughout their interaction now but a hint of mutual respect borne from seeing the other's ability to please you so well.

As Sullyoon stands, Belle seems to ponder. On her knees, staring at her sister's body, as if admiring every aspect of her figure; slender legs, tight waist, and cute ass. You get it. You've been there. Gawking at Sullyoon from afar, stealing glances while nobody notices, fantasising about those very curves. And yet it's surreal seeing somebody else experiencing it in front of you.

When Belle speaks up, she points to Sullyoon's shorts. "May I?"

"Go ahead," Sullyoon mutters nonchalantly, almost absentmindedly. Her full focus seems to revolve around climbing onto your lap. Meanwhile, Belle carefully peels away the fabric that clings to Sullyoon's lower body, easing her out of them until her legs come free. In a series of graceful motions, Belle has exposed Sullyoon down to nothing—helped because Sullyoon never wears underwear in the house.

As Sullyoon settles over your hips, resting on her knees, Belle crawls up next to you, positioning herself comfortably alongside your body. She props herself upright, leaning sideways against your torso for support. With a finger, she traces shapes across your chest, drawing abstract patterns into your skin idly while keeping her eyes locked exclusively forward, entranced by Sullyoon above you.

She takes hold of your dick at its base. Taking her time to drag both it and herself against each other, exchanging spit and slick fluids that coat them. There's a little sway and rotation to her hips, teasing incessantly until the anticipation threatens to drive you mad. The soft skin of her tummy looks so tasty from here, rising and falling slowly as she breathes and moving as she rolls her body.

There comes a point where enough is enough.

Just as you reach to grab yourself and guide it inside of her, Belle stretches her hand down between Sullyoon's legs and takes hold of your cock instead. She slaps your tip against your sister's swollen clit. Up and down, hitting the sensitive button repeatedly. All it takes is one errant flick downwards, however accidental (or not), and now your cockhead is nestled snugly into Sullyoon's entrance.

Belle draws her palm back up over your body. "Sorry, my bad," she giggles. Except you know better, seeing the smug twinkle that sparkles behind her irises. Before you can say anything more, Sullyoon succumbs to gravity and the pleasure it brings. Her hips sink down. Accepting inch after inch of you inside of her welcoming pussy until every last bit fits snuggly within her walls. She groans quietly.

It's all so familiar—the sensation of being enveloped by her velvety folds—but still wonderful nonetheless.

The shift of pressure when she begins to grind on top of you reminds you of those many times in the evening darkness, those instances when all that mattered was staying silent. Now you have an audience. Somebody watching intently from your side.

Belle watches the action unfold, a gasp here and giggle there. Sullyoon's body arches back subtly whilst she rocks her pelvis back and forth rhythmically atop yours. Her eyelids droop heavily as ecstasy surges through her veins, causing goosebumps to prickle over her smooth flesh as she rides.

"You like riding your brother's dick?"

"Y-Yes," Sullyoon stutters out, too preoccupied to register fully what she said. This sets off the deviant in Belle. You sense her growing bolder, more confident with her lecherous remarks knowing they'll be met with little to no resistance.

"You gonna cum on it?"

"Yes!" Sullyoon cries. Every downward motion presses her clit against your pubic bone, sending waves rippling through her petite frame. You grip her waist firmly, helping her. Her ass collides loudly against your thighs when she bottoms out each time. There's hardly any need for you to buck your hips and meet her.

"Yeah, you love fucking your stepbrother, don't you?"

Sullyoon only whimpers. Whatever argument or shame she might muster has fallen prey to her own desires. Now that she's been given permission—to indulge these fantasies openly with others—it appears as though she'll never go back. How can anyone turn away from such bliss?

And to your own amazement, neither of you seems fazed by the fact Belle bears witness to everything transpiring before her eyes.

"So dirty. Such a bad girl." Belle's tone is sultry sweet like honey dripping off a spoon. She leans closer and plants her lips against yours softly. It takes a second, a single heartbeat passing in silence where your tongue darts forward to greet hers. Suddenly the kiss has become something fierce and passionate—an exchange filled entirely with unbridled hunger that knows nothing besides passion itself. Nothing exists beyond its carnal needs right now except for maybe one thing...

An explosion erupts deep within Sullyoon; an eruption so violent that it causes her entire form to shake uncontrollably atop you. Her moans fill your bedroom, and her whole body draws tense before collapsing limply upon you like a marionette whose strings had just been cut loose by some unseen force. She quivers and writhes atop your throbbing shaft.

"Must be one hell of a ride," Belle comments through laboured breaths.

"Find out for yourself," you respond, matching her energy.

"Mmmm," she purrs thoughtfully whilst absentmindedly tracing circles across Sullyoon's exposed backside. "Let's switch, 'kay?"

You're quick to respond. Grabbing onto Sullyoon's ass cheeks, digging your fingertips firmly into each supple mound as you hoist her upwards. Your cock slips effortlessly free, causing a shudder to run through you both simultaneously before pulling apart completely. A mixture of sexual fluids oozes messily down her thighs when you set her aside on the mattress.

Now it's Belle's turn.

The atmosphere shifts drastically as she straddles you. Where previously things had taken on this languid dreamlike state—with Sullyoon's gentle undulations atop your cock, punctuated by moans echoing throughout the room—now the urgency returns anew.

Once Belle has mounted you correctly, sinking down until she reaches hilt-deep within herself, then she starts gyrating wildly. Hips rolling furiously fast and grinding her sex hard against yours, driving you deeper than ever before.

Her tits bounce deliciously from the impacts and her lips purse prettily with exertion. From nothing to everything in the blink of an eye. She's leaning over you, pressing her forehead against yours and staring right into your soul as she rides your cock mercilessly. And those eyes—those beautifully smokey eyes—are burning with lustful fervour.

Belle's hot breath mingles sweetly together amidst the haze surrounding you two. Then her lips crash against yours in a searing kiss that steals away whatever remaining oxygen you have left within your lungs. Tongues dance between teeth, entwining passionately against one another until you're forced apart by necessity.

"How is he?" Sullyoon speaks up. She sounds remarkably coherent despite appearing like a spent mess lying sprawled out beside you two.

"Fucking huge," Belle gasps in response without breaking stride. Her pace doesn't slow at all, if anything she speeds up even more in defiance to accommodate your size better. Her voice wavers slightly when she speaks again. "He feels so good," she murmurs softly against your earlobe.

"Give me his face," Sullyoon demands, crawling closer to you, propping her body upright next to your head. Once her hands cup your cheeks and tilt your face up, she swings a leg over your head and positions her snatch directly above your mouth. Then she descends downwards gently, pressing herself flush against your lips.

As soon as contact occurs between tongue and slit, Sullyoon jolts upright suddenly as bolts shoot straight towards her core. Eagerly lapping away at her glistening cunt causes a ripple effect throughout her whole physique, making her hips gyrate involuntarily against your open mouth.

Belle continues slamming herself down hard atop you, rocking your entire foundation relentlessly. She throws her head backwards as the momentum builds steadily higher and higher. Unrestrained groans spill freely from her throat unchecked as pleasure overwhelms every other rational thought inside her brain. Meanwhile, you feast on the nectar that flows forth copiously from your step-sister's pussy, savouring the ambrosia coating thickly around your tongue as you slurp it greedily down.

Time loses meaning while submerged beneath the sea of sensations cascading over you ceaselessly—nothing existing beyond the confines of flesh pounding against flesh nor the taste saturating every inch of your being.

You claw for some sort of respite, finding your fingers digging into Sullyoon's ass as a makeshift warning of the feeling in your body. You're close but they won't stop, in fact, Belle works harder.

Everything escalates tenfold. Everything gets faster; harder; wilder.

It drives you absolutely insane.

Your cock spasms violently inside of Belle's convulsing sex. Simultaneously, she's screaming something incomprehensible—not quite words necessarily but definitely conveying something meaningful nonetheless. The surge of euphoria crashes through you like waves crashing upon the shore during a stormy night—ferociously crashing through every fibre of your being with unrestrained vigour. Cum floods her depths in hot thick spurts and her body tenses rigidly, shaking fiercely whilst gripping tightly onto you for stability. Sullyoon trembles too, twitching sporadically and squealing loudly through clenched teeth before eventually slumping forward once again, collapsing heavily upon your face while riding out her orgasmic peak alongside yours.

Seconds feel like minutes, minutes seem like hours.

Eventually, the intensity fades, replaced instead by gentle numbness which fills the void afterwards. You lay there, breathing raggedly—heart hammering heavily within ribcage and sweat trickling down skin dampened thoroughly, amongst bodily fluids staining sheets soaked in evidence of prior debauchery. Eventually, your sisters roll off of you.

Silence prevails for several long moments afterwards. No sound penetrates beyond shallow breaths. Nobody says anything; no words need be uttered aloud to express emotions present right now anyway.

***

Three days later, you wake up in bed, sandwiched between your sisters. Legs intertwined, warm skin brushing against one another and soft chests pillowing against your sides. Asleep.

This isn't unusual—not anymore. How quickly it has all become routine to sleep squished between them.

It's also not weird or uncomfortable. At least, you try to convince yourself of that. Because otherwise...well...

You decide not to finish the thought. Instead, you opt to focus solely on enjoying the sensation of having both beautiful girls wrapped snugly around you. Revel in their warmth and breathe deeply their scent. Cherish this dirty, taboo arrangement for all it's worth. There will surely come a day when everything falls apart; when reality inevitably comes knocking at the door. But until then, why not indulge? 

[pomegranatesarchive]

not so secret santa

max verstappen x teammate!reader

part of redbull!reader

[3.4k] secret santa has never been your favorite holiday tradition; in fact, you’ve always found it more stressful than fun. but this year, it’s somehow even worse—because out of all the people you could have drawn, you ended up with your teammate, max.

.

"Can't I skip it this year?" you grumbled, watching as the F1 social media admin walked up to you, a phone in one hand, and a Christmas hat in the other.

The woman frowned behind the camera, shaking the hat slightly, "You love Christmas." she pointed out.

You nodded, pocketing your phone in your back pocket, you were on your way to the garage before you were stopped by the last person you wanted to see.

You had no problem with the admin, on the contrary, you found her delightful, but she was making the round of secret santa, and that's why you were hoping to avoid her.

"Christmas and Secret Santa are not the same." you quipped, reaching your hand into the hat and swirling around the tiny slips of paper. You took a deep breath, grasping one before pulling it out, the camera following your every movement.

You leaned by, opening the slip away from prying eyes, "Shit." you cursed, quickly trying to put the paper back into the hat.

The admin laughed, leaning back, "No switching!"

You groaned, "C'mon please!"

She laughed, shaking your head, "Nope! Show the camera."

You grumbled, slowly turning the paper, Max Verstappen.

The woman laughed, delighted by the odds, "Okay. You remember the rules?"

"Don't tell anyone." you grumbled, pocketing the slip of paper, "I never know what to get!" you whined, as much as you loved Christmas the gift-giving part was something you despised, you always second-guessed yourself, and could never pick out what you deemed a 'good gift.’

"You have until two weeks from now." she beamed, before walking away, no doubt on her way to find her next victim.

.

Later that day you had a list of those who could help you on the hunt for the perfect gift. The first person on your list for help was, unfortunately, out of all people, Jos Verstappen.

Truly he was the last person you would ever want to talk to, but you thought that if anyone could be able to help you with picking out a gift, it would be Max's dad.

You would've gone to his mother, or even sister first. But they rarely visited the garage, much less when Jos was around, which you entirely understood.

"Get him something for racing," he spoke simply, you stood near him awkwardly, this was only your second one-on-one conversation in all the years you've been racing with his child, and moments like these reminded you why you avoided him, "Gloves."

You blinked, "You don't think I should get him something more personal? I mean I've known him for a while now."

"You've known him for a while and still don't know what to get him?" he sent you a look, and you resisted the urge to snap back, taking a deep breath.

"I'm bad a gifts."

"Then don't get him anything," the man shrugged like it was the most reasonable thing, "He hasn't been doing good enough to deserve a good Christmas." he scoffed.

"He's leading the championship." you laughed in amazement, truly not understanding how a father could say such things about his own child.

Jos' eyes snapped over to you, "Norris is catching up, he's not doing good enough."

"Not good enough?" you gaped, taking a step back, deciding to let it go and not start an argument in the middle of the garage, "Nevermind. Nevermind. Thank you for your…help.” you didn’t bother giving him a fake smile, turning on your heel quickly and walking out of the garage.

“Asshole,” you whispered to yourself, walking quickly with eyes on the ground.

“My dad?” you stopped abruptly, looking up to see Max in all his glory standing in front of you.

“Hm?” you blinked, staring up at him.

He pursed his lips, hands on his hips, “You were talking to my dad.”

You nodded slowly, debating whether to lie or not, “…I was.”

He hummed, left eye slightly twitching, “Okay. Why?”

Your mind went blank, thinking of any excuse you could use, “Um…”

Max eyes you, nodding along with you, “Um…”

"I just wanted to catch up."

In hindsight, you definitely should've come up with something more believable.

Max shot you a very telling look, letting you know that he didnt believe an ounce of what you were saying, "Catching up? With Jos?"

"Yes?" you squinted up at him, tone not as believable as you wanted it to be.

"You don't catch up with Jos. You don't like Jos."

You tried to look offended, "I can catch up with Jos."

Max let out a short laugh, eyes glancing behind you, no doubt to his father, "No. You don't like him." he repeated, "Most people don't like him."

You stared up at him with a blank look before letting out a deep breath, "You're right, I don't like him."

Max nodded once more, an amused look on his face, "So why were you talking to him?"

You balled your hands into a fist wanting nothing more but to tell him that you were on a search for the perfect gift, but you resisted, "I wanted to catch up with Jos but then he opened his mouth and reminded me why I stay away."

Max said nothing, simply staring down at you, a certain look in his eyes, you sighed, "I promise."

Finally, Max let up, giving you a smile, and patting your shoulder before walking towards his father.

With a grimace you quickly spun on your heel, catching Jos's eyes, you pressed a finger to your lips, hoping you would get the hint—it appeared like he didnt by the way he looked at you in a mixture of disgust and confusion.

You watched them anxiously for a moment, before scurrying away, choosing to not see the moment Max realized you had lied to him.

Back with the Verstappens, Max was eyeing his father oddly. He knew you had just lied to him, your anxious tone and the way you balled your hands into fists told him you were lying, he just didnt know about what.

"You two were catching up?" Max voiced his disbelief, the last thing he expected was for his father to continue you lie.

"Yes, Max." his father sighed, already annoyed by the talk you and him just had, and now he had his son asking him the same question over and over again.

"About what?" the exasperation in the racer's voice pulled a smile to Jos's face.

He turned to his son with his arms crossed, "Win this race, and I'll tell you."

Max blinked, truly that was the last thing he expected to come from his father...and it made him mad. Years of winning and winning, and the man couldn't tell him this one thing? When had he ever asked for anything from him?

Max scoffed, rolling his eyes before walking away, ignoring his father's calls behind him.

.

There was something so intimating about Oscar Piastri and his blank face. Maybe it was because of how calm cool and collected he was, while at the moment you were the exact opposite. Either way, you were cursing Secret Santa for putting you in this position.

It was the day after your pick when you ran into him in the hotel reception center, he was sitting on a couch, eyes and face blank.

You contemplated walking away multiple times, but you knew you needed all the imput you could get to get Max the perfect gift.

"Hey Oscar..." you sang awkwardly slowly sliding down to the spot next to him.

He blinked slowly, turning to you slowly, "Hey." he mumbled, before turning back and facing straight, no doubt creeping out some of the people walking by.

You argued with yourself mentally, trying to build up the courage to talk with the man next to you, "So uh.. who'd you get for Secret Santa?" you tried, cringing into yourself.

"I'm not supposed to tell you."

"I'm won’t tell anyone."

"You'll tell Max." you didnt bother trying to defend yourself, knowing he was right, you would've definitely blurted it out to Max.

"Yeah.." you mumbled slowly, prusing your lips.

"You got him right—Max?" he asked simply.

You snapped your head over to him before looking around the hotel reception room crazily, "Shh!" you whispered and shouted, "He could hear you."

Yesterday after Max's conversation with his father, you were sure he was going to come back and let you know that his father had spilled the beans, teasing you over not being able to keep 'secret' Santa a 'secret' for longer than 24 hours.

But he never did. Instead, he complained about Jos for almost a full hour, not once did he bring up the gift situation.

"Yes. Because I'm sure he can hear me from the track...from here."

You shrunk slightly in embarrassment, you were not aware he had left the hotel, "You never know." you scoffed, rolling your eyes, "So uh.. you're good at gift-giving, right?"

Oscar tilted his head in thought, "I mean, I don't think it's something I'm known for."

"But like, you're good at it right?" you tried leaning towards him.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Happily, you slightly bounced on your spot, "Great!" you paused, "So like, hypothetically, if you got Max for Secret Santa," you saw a small smile spread on Oscar's face, "Hypothetically, what would you get him?"

Oscar hummed, "Hypothetically..." he dragged the word out, he paused before seeming stumped, "I don't know.."

"Oscar!" you groaned, slumping in disappointment.

"I seriously don't know," he whispered to himself, seemingly distraught, "Wow...I don't know."

The room's tone shifted as Oscar kept mumbling to himself.

"It's okay Oscar," you smiled awkwardly, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..." he muttered to himself, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay.." you patted his arm, noticing more and more people were glancing your way, yet he didnt stop mumbling to himself.

You laughed awkwardly, slowly getting up, "Yeah okay." you mumbled, looking around before walking away, leaving him with his mumbles.

You circled around the hotel lobby for what felt like hours (it was three minutes) continuously taking peeks at Oscar, who continued to look in horror at a revelation that he, did not know.

After a few more circles, you thankfully spotted the next person on your ‘help with gift’ list, Lando. He was exiting the elevator, a concerned look on his face as he started heading towards Oscar.

You took off in a quick jog, cutting him off mid-walk, he stumbled on his feet trying to not bump into you, “Hey!” you greeted gleefully, blocking his eyesight as they trailed back to Oscar.

"Hey." he blinked, shooting you a quick smile before his eyes inevitability trailed back to Oscar, who had a deep frown on his face.

"I need your help," you pursed your lips, Lando looked down at you in confusion before looking back to Oscar, contemplation clear on his face. You decided to clear the air, "Oscars fine. He just's...thinking, about what I'm going to ask you actually!"

It took a second before Lando nodded in acceptance, "Okay? What’s up?"

"I got Max for Secret Santa, and I want to get him something super good, but you know I'm bad at gifts right? Yeah, I got you for Secret Santa last year and it sucked," you rambled as Lando nodded with a frown, recalling when you got him a replica of his helmet, like his own helmet, it would've been thoughtful if it wasn't, his helmet, "And I asked Jos and he was no help, so then I asked Oscar but I think.. I think I broke him."

Lando looked down at you blankly, opening his mouth and closing it a couple times, before finally, he took a deep breath, "Okay.." he dragged out, "Why don't you try anything racing-related?"

"That's what Jos suggested."

Lando jumped back in disgusted, "So let's not get him anything racing-related."

You nodded in agreement, "I was going to get him a new cat but that seems like a big commitment."

Lando hummed in agreement, "Especially because he just got one, what's its name? Donatello?"

"Mhmm."

"What if you don't get him a cat, but get him something for his cats." He rose up a brow.

Your face lit up before it slowly dimmed, "But isn't that like getting his cats something and not him something."

Lando shrugged, a small frown appearing on his face, "That's all I got."

You groaned throwing your head back, "No! Lando no!"

Lando laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement, "I'm sorry!"

You moved to his side, putting your head on his shoulder, "What'd you get Zhou?"

Lano beamed, "A pillow of his cat, Sweetcorn."

You gasped, an open-mouth smile on your face, Lando quickly cut in, "No you cannot use that idea!"

You faltered, looking up with a glare, "Have I told you how much I hate you?"

Lando looked down at you with a cheeky smile, "Many times, yes."

You grumble to yourself, slight smaking him on the shoulder before turning and walking away, onto the next and final person on your list.

.

You had lost Daniel Ricciardo's phone number. That was a big problem seeing as he was the last person on your 'quest to find Max the perfect gift' list.

You had gotten a phone two months prior, actually, Max got you a new phone, claiming that your old phone was 'deteriorating.'

During the process of switching phones, all of your contacts were deleted, a problem that was solved as you went around the track asking for all the phone numbers you could get, the problem was that Daniel was no longer at the track. You told yourself that you would get to it eventually, but you never did.

And now you were in this horrible situation, you had to somehow get Daniel's phone number from Max, without explaining why you needed it.

You could've gone to literally any of the other drivers, but they all seemed to be strangely avoiding you. (Little did you know Max had figured out the next part of your plan and told everyone to ‘hide’ from you so you had no choice but to go to him.)

He was sitting next to GP, pointing at something on the screen his mouth moving widely. You snuck up behind him, giving GP a look, hoping he would take the hint. Thankfully he did. He only took a couple seconds patting Max on his back and walking away.

Quickly you slid into his seat, shooting Max a smile.

His eyebrows shot up instantly, "You're done avoiding me?"

You laughed fakely, looking around the garage, "Me? Ignore you? What? Outrageous Max, just—outrageous."

The driver shot you a look, making you clear your throat awkwardly, "Do you have Daniel Riccarido's number?" Stupid question, of course, he had his number.

"I do." Max nodded simply, you winced you had hoped that he would just offer it on the spot, but of course is it really Max if he isn't difficult?

"Great!" you nodded enthusiastically, "..Can I have it?" you added quickly.

Max smiled to himself, turning his body toward you entirely, his head leaning on his palm, "Why do you want it?"

You faltered, swallowing thickly, "Why?" you stuttered, trying to think of a great excuse.

"Mhm. Why?"

You stared at him, "Because he's my friend. And—and I miss talking to him."

Max's smile got wider, "I got you a new phone two months ago, you haven't said anything about talking to Daniel?"

Shit. He was catching on. "I want to ask him out!" What?

You blinked, shocked at what had just come out of your mouth, Max on the other hand looked more amused than ever, "Oh?" he tilted his head, "Really? You and Daniel?"

You nodded painfully, "Yeah—yeah, um I've been thinking about it for a long time?...and this just seems like the right moment, ya know?"

Max was beaming ear to ear, "No, I don't know."

"Okay well, you don't need to get it. I just—I need his phone number please."

Wordless, Max handed you his phone, watching as you opened it and sent yourself Daniel's number, you hopped off the chair, giving him one last awkward smile, "See you later!"

Max watched you go with a fond smile, shaking his head. God he couldn't wait to see what you would get him for Secret Santa.

.

"I'm surprised to hear from you!" was one of the first things Daniel said when he picked up the phone. You were currently in the bathroom with five minutes to spare before ths race started.

"I lost your number!" you defended yourself, peeking under the stall to see if anyone had entered the bathroom, thankful nobody had, "I need your help."

"How may the wise Daniel Ricciardo help thee?"

You pulled a face, shaking your head, "What should I get Max for secret santa?"

"Easy. Get him something family-related."

You got a hear a pin drop. Easy. Something family-related, of course! Max loves his family!

"You are a fucking genius, Daniel."

"So I've been told." you could hear his smirk through the phone. Unfortunately, you didnt have time to hear him continue, "While I have you, how has your season been—“

"Sorry Daniel, can't talk, thanks for the insight! Oh and by the way, if Max or anyone asked I declared my love for you on this call and you very kindly rejected me? Okay? Okay!" before he could splutter out anything, you had already hung up.

.

Max stood in front of the camera crew, a smile on his face as he shook the small envelope, "So it's not a new cat?" he quipped.

The people behidn the camera laughed, the social media admin shrugged with a grin, "It still could be."

Max shook his head as he started to slowly and carefully open the envelope, "I don't think she could manage to fit a cat in here." nobody picked up on the 'she'

Max hummed as he peeked inside the envelope, "I see a note, should I read that first?" he looked at the admin, who shrugged.

"Okay.." he dragged out, pulling out the note, he cleared his throat as he started to read, "Happy Holidays Max! I hope you're reading this after you've opened the actual present..." Max paused, slowly turning up to the crew who were shaking in laughter, he shook his head deciding that it was too late to stop, "Getting you a present was very very, very difficult, but after some help, I was able to make my choice, I really do hope you enjoy the vacation with your mom and sister," he paused before continuing, "And don't worry about booking hotels or babysitters, I got it all done, Merry (early) Christmas Maxie, with love—your secret santa."

With a huge smile, Max placed the letter onto the table, before excitedly reaching into the envelopes, and pulling out three plane ticks, "Wow." he gasped, turning the tickets and showing them off to the camera, "It's three tickets to Greece for me, my mom and sister," he beamed, examining them further, "I've always wanted to go." he whispered to himself.

The camera crew smiled to themselves while the social media admin leaned in with her eyebrow raised, "Any idea who your secret santa was?"

Max nodded almost instantly, laughing slightly, "It's (yn) I recognize her writing."

The admin laughed, shaking her head, "That's cheating Max!"

Max shook his head, pointing at the woman, "It's not my fault I'm good at this!"

The admin waved him off, "Okay! Okay, you were right, it was her."

Max smirked, "I knew it," his eyes unfocused, wandering over to behind the group of people in front of them, curious they all trailed their eyes over to where he was staring, "I guessed right! You can come out now!" Max yelled out, the camera crew gasped as you peeked out of a thick pillar, hopping over to them with a smile.

"She was there the whole time?" the mic man whispered to the cameraman, who shrugged, mouth open in surprise.

"I don't know...but that's slightly scary."

You walked over to Max with a smile, letting out a small squeak as he pulled you into a tight hug unexpectedly, "You guessed so quickly" you groaned, feeling him press a kiss on your head.

"I found your list," Max whispered in your ear, laughing as he felt you tense up.

"Like the list?" you groaned, feeling embarrassment flood your system.

"The list," Max confirmed as you two pulled away.

You winced avoiding eye contact.

Max laughed, reaching over to squeeze your hand, "Thank you. Really. I love the gift."

You smiled proudly, before turning to the admin who was watching the scene with a small smile, "I'm warning you right now that I am never doing secret santa gain."

The woman giggled, a cerstain gleam in her eye, "We'll see about that."

.

a/n: truly impressed with the writers who write 4k words and UP fics, this one is 3.4k and it took me well over two weeks to write (which is why its being uploaded after christmas) anywhoo i hope you guys enjoyed!!!

[summertimesadnessirl]

This except like

I do things that seem like attention seeking behavior to avoid attention, actually.

I wear slutty clothes so people will stare at my legs or my tits or my body harness or garter belt ribbons hanging down and not pay attention to me.

Too busy being horny for my clothes to see me.

I say provocative things so people ask about them and are distracted from trying to bother me in the here and now.

Too busy being outraged.

I give people compliments so they do all the talking and go on and on about something that makes them feel cool or happy so they don't bother me.

Too busy with their own ego.

I behave in ways that embody what other people want me to be so they get what they want and leave me alone.

I had to be groomed by 3 years of attention= shitloads of money

To care about wanting attention.

I don't like attention but I really like not being in poverty.

I really like having shitloads of money.

You can solve almost any problem with shitloads of money.

I wish I wanted attention because it's really easy to get attention from like 90% of people. It must be really cool to be addicted to attention.

People have been telling me I do things for attention my whole life.

Actually I do things because I'm a weird little goblin child and don't know how to act.

Also because I hate when other people try to force me or influence me to do things and it makes me wanna die?

So my goal is honestly to make enough money that I can be as bizarre as I want and no one will care and if people aren't nice to me I can tell them I hope they trip and fall and impale their eyeball on a pencil and it hits them in the brain and they die and then leave the room and never talk to them again.

Attention makes me big uncomfortable because when I'm not bribing people to be nice to me with whatever it is they want they mostly are incredibly unpleasant and anytime a new person is like... smiling at me or asking me a lot of questions about myself they are usually deciding if I should be allowed to eat or how severely I should be punished or if I will be allowed to go home or if they want to give me drugs or if they're about to make a brand new rule against something that didn't exist before just so they can ruin my month. Good things happen when you put the focus on making the people around you happy and granting their wishes. Bad things happen when other people notice you exist any time you are not actively doing that.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

One bed

Azriel x reader

Word count: 3000+

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, you end up in the same room as Azriel

Warnings: none

I'd love to say I have solved the Frozen thingy, but I haven't yet. I've started writing part 3 and that's where I stopped because of the madness around. I was so close to making a solid plan for it. Unfortunately, the work happened, then Christmas at work baking f***ing chicken farm. Then husband got fever🙄and he couldn't live without getting someone else sick as well, so now son has high fever too and I'm the last one somehow surviving here. At least I have whole week of holidays next week. I hoped to relax and write more, but we'll see. Wish me luck🥴

Anyway here's something small and not so angsty that just popped up suddenly. Hope you enjoy it.

And for everyone who celebrate, have a peaceful holiday 💕

"I thought I've reserved enough rooms," Rhysand sighed. The last hour he was talking with the owner of the inn we were staying at, trying all possible tactics to persuade him to find us one more room. Impossible task from the very beginning as the inn was full.

We were on non-official official mission. At first, there were only six of us supposed to go as Amren declined, intending to stay with Mor in Velaris, protecting it. However, the two of them had yet another quarrel recently, which led to Amren suddenly appearing with a packed bag in hand a few seconds before intended departure. Nobody, not even Rhys, had balls to tell her no. And that's why we ended up in this situation. Rhys had everything perfectly planned, as usual, but he couldn't have known this would happen. And now we were one room short, but again - nobody dared to tell aloud whose fault it was. Amren was like hungry bulldog, ready to tear to shreds anyone and anything at the best of her days. Now, she was pissed off.

Feyre and Nesta took their keys, Feyre giving me an apologetic look. From the start, they were supposed to share rooms with their mates. This was also kind of vacation for us, so it was only logical they wanted to be with their partners.

That left Rhys with last two keys in hand. Amren snatched one and without looking at anyone or even a small mumbled sorry, she left. We exchanged look and whole group finally relaxed.

"Sorry," Feyre murmured as she headed to her room with sorrowful expression.

Before she left, Nesta gazed at me with silent question and I nodded. I would be fine, for sure. Cassian winked at me as he followed her. They both knew about the feelings I had for Azriel for quite some time, each supporting me in their own way. At this point, probably everyone around knew, except for the mentioned Shadowsinger and I didn't plan to be the one to break the news. I knew my limits and he was off them.

Rhys turned to me and Azriel with sorrowful expression, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, Az, but you know.. Ladies first," he offered me the last key. Spymaster didn't even as much as blink, no protests at all. He looked as his usual self, unbothered by the problem at the hand.

"Thankies," I smiled, took the key and looped hand to Azriel's arm. "Come."

They both opened mouth in surprise, none of them expecting this from me. Rhys recovered as first.

"Enjoy yourself," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha ha, how funny," I stuck out tongue at him. He chuckled and hurried after his mate, leaving the two of us alone. I raised brow at Shadowsinger who was still too shocked to speak. He didn't even notice Rhys' teasing.

"What? Did you think I would let you sleep on roof or what?"

"B-b-but," he stammered, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"No buts. Come!" I had to pull reluctant Azriel down the hallway.

"I can try another inn-"

"Nonsense! You would miss all the fun. Plus, I really don't mind. We are friends after all. I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

I came to a sudden stop, realizing something.

"Wait! You mind staying with me in the same room?"

Before, it didn't occur to me that he could be against. I thought we were getting along pretty well, given the fact that we tended to seek out each other's company, sitting together and talking. The two of us even often hung out in the city, venturing cafes and bakeries. I thought he liked to spend time with me, but it could be only my mistaken impression. I knew I couldn't hope for more than friendship and I was fine with that as long as I could be close to him. He could feel differently though.

"No!" he hurried with an answer, eyes wide. "No, nothing like that. It's just.."

"What is it?"

"It's just.. you are female and I'm male."

I was so relieved to hear that, that I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "That means that you will pounce on me like an animal as soon as door close?"

He flushed fiercely, averting his eyes. "You know I will do no such a thing. It just means that you might be uncomfortable because of that."

"I'm fine. Believe me," I said softly and took his hand. "So come on, silly."

He chuckled and this time, he willingly followed me.

The room, we got, was quite a nice one for an old inn, but it was rather smaller one. Most of the space was occupied by bed big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. It was one of the reasons Rhysand chose this place, thinking about the comfort of his brothers. We were supposed to spend here whole week, maybe longer, so it was necessary.

Except of bed, there was only small table with two old chairs, hearth and connected bathroom.

After we settled down, the air had somehow thickened, both of us suddenly embarrassed. And so I did what I could to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but every try for a conversation died out soon after it started. At last, I gave up.

"It was long day," I stretched out, all my joints making a satisfying cracking sound and Azriel grimaced. He didn't like when I did it. "I'm tired. Do you want to use the bathroom as first?"

"No, go ahead," he offered and started to line up on table all the daggers he had on him. I paused and watched him, amazed. How could he hide so many? I thought he had only two, max three. He noticed me and smiled shyly.

"I'll clean them while you take shower. Don't worry, I'll put them away afterwards."

"I don't mind them at all," I mumbled, ashamed I got caught. "I'm just stunned you managed to sneak in the whole arsenal. Seeing it now, I would bet that not only do you have one for each of us but also even one spare."

At that he finally laughed, the rich sound warming my heart. I already missed that sound. Corners of my mouth curled into satisfied smile and I quickly gathered all necessary things and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, the daggers were gone from the table. Azriel was seated on the same chair he occupied since we came, pyjama in hands. He was staring into space, looking somehow troubled. Shadows gathered around his ear and he looked up at me, faking smile. Without a word, he stood up and hurried to the bathroom.

While I was waiting, I shoved my used underwear to the bottom of my bag and climbed to the bed, snuggling up in a warm blanket. It was quite cold here, old window hardly blocking the cold wind from outside.

Azriel took quite long to finish. By the time bathroom door creaked open, I was almost asleep. He rustled around for a while and adding big log to the fire, he turned off lights. I waited. The room went completely silent.

I opened eyes. "Are you kidding me," I sat up, sighing. "Az, I thought, we already talked it out." I glared into a dark corner by the hearth.

"Don't worry about me and sleep," he replied from his place on the old chair.

"You can't sleep on that old crap. It will most likely give in soon." The only answer was silence.

"C'mon, Az. It won't do you any good if you're sleep-deprived. To none of us in fact. What if something happens and you won't be able to fight because you are too tired and sore?"

Again silence.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed? I warn you, I'm going to drag you here not by arm but by ear this time."

He chuckled. His wings rustled and mattress dipped under his weight. "Fine then. Have it your way."

I tucked him in like a small child, mindful of his wings and settled down, heart pounding in my throat.

"That wasn't necessary."

"Believe me it was. And don't try to fake it. I'm light sleeper. I will know if you get up in the middle of the night."

"Fine, fine." He sounded amused. He was lying on his back, wings folded and tugged close to his body.

"Relax. The bed is enough big for both of us. Even if you touch me. I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt into puddle," I assured him as I curled up on my side of bed with back to him, taking as little space as possible so he had enough comfort. He made a sound at the back of his throat.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all with him being so close. But as bed warmed up with his presence and his calming scent wrapped around me as another blanket, I fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Azriel didn't even blink an eye. He was just lying there, stretched on his back, gazing at ceiling. He wasn't used to falling asleep next to someone. After she reassured him, he relaxed a bit but only his body. He was too nervous and excited at the same time. He was scared to even breath, not wanting to wake her up. How could she sleep so soundly? Didn't she feel the same? Didn't his presence stir her nerves?

Shadows curled on pillow near his ear, whispering. They described him in detail how she drifted off with sweet smile on her lips. Smile that she was still wearing. He wished he could see it with his own eyes.

He dared to turn his head to the side to watch her back, her shoulder slightly rising with every breath. Even at place like this in the middle of nowhere, she kept smelling like field of spring flowers, delicate and sweet. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment.

He felt so lucky right now and thanked the Mother for sending Amren at last minute, giving him this opportunity. For years, he was trying to get closer to Y/N. No matter how many times, he was ready to tell her about his feelings, he always gave up in the end, not daring to even suggest it. She was everything he wasn't, beautiful, kind and perfect. She deserved better.

He watched her entire night, mesmerized. It was strange. She was always so energetic during the day, yet at night she didn't move at all. It made him wonder whether it was because of him or it was normal.

It was after the sunrise when he finally calmed down and dozed off for hour or two.

* * *

Three days later, a knock sounded on our door. We were just finishing off the lasts of our breakfast. We looked up in time to see Rhysand's head peeking in. He held hand over his eyes with sassy smirk on his lips.

"Can I come in? I wouldn't like to see something inappropriate."

I rolled my eyes while Azriel bid him in, unaffected by his teasing. Honestly, everyone was making fun of us for no reason. After the first night, Nesta pulled me aside to ask me how it went and how I felt. I had nothing to tell her. At least nothing interesting anyway. I slept like a baby and not only the first night, but every night after.

Every evening, Azriel dutifully took his side of bed and I curled up on mine. No touching, only a pleasant small chat between friends. It was noticeable that he didn't sleep much the first night, however after that, he didn't seem to have such troubles. I was glad for that.

"I came to inform you that finally one more room is available. If you want, one of you can take it," he grinned and waited for our reply with one brow raised.

Out of the corner of eye, I looked at Azriel who was already eyeing me with unreadable expression. It seemed he wouldn't speak and it was up to me to decide.

"Well.. I don't mind to share room with Az at all. But if you'd like to have your privacy.." I turned to him.

His eyes widened slightly and his lips moved without making a sound.

"I don't mind, too," he managed.

"So," Rhys dragged the word. "You want to stay together? Really?"

We nodded as one man, not willing to give him what he hoped for. He was visibly disappointed.

"Fine then," he sighed, "as you want. I'll inform the owner."

* * *

A week later we were so used to this situation and each other's presence that we returned to our usual selves, rambling about anything, laughing, even touching lightly.

Our mission was over and this was our last night of sharing room. Azriel was spread on bed next to me, his wing gently touching my back. I was slowly falling asleep while we did small talk. Somewhere between dream and reality I got idea. Crazy as it was, my sleepy brain didn't find anything strange or wrong with it and my body acted on its own.

With closed eyes I rolled to his side, wrapped arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. Azriel made a surprised sound and stiffened, but he didn't try to push me away. His smell filled my nose, his warmth seeping into me. Frantic but steady melody of his heart lulled me deeper into sleep. Last thing I felt before I completely drifted off, was his body relaxing under me and his arm holding me close.

* * *

Azriel was so surprised, he couldn't think straight. What was happening? He touched Y/N lightly, yet she didn't mind. She was almost asleep, relaxed and seemingly comfortable with him as her pillow. He felt her smiling into his chest and that gave him courage to wrap his hands around her. She hummed with satisfaction and dozed off completely.

Azriel gazed at her, unsure what to think or feel. Naturally, it made him happy, a dream-come-true kind of situation, but was it really okay? Was it really happening? It seemed to him just like a figment of his imagination, fed by amazing week spent by her side, so close to her.

He pinched himself, really painfully, leaving a bruise on his forearm. It was real. He swallowed hard. Slowly small smile spread on his face. He could get used to this.

When the initial surprise and embarrassment had passed, he found himself enjoying this. His heart was pounding fast, as he touched her hair and pushed them aside to see her face. He couldn't help it and traced a single finger down her face and jaw, mapping her full lips, lovely nose and soft arches of her brows.

He chuckled lightly. Y/N didn't even stir. So much to a light-sleeper.

As he watched her, his fantasy took over, offering him all kinds of imaginary situations that could lead to them ending up in this position; from innocent snuggling together for the night to them being naked, covered in sweat and spent after good sex. His heart squeezed in pain. He loved it and wanted it all. He didn't even realize that he was tugging her closer and closer, holding her so firmly there was no space left between them.

Despite everything, the scenario of innocent snuggling immediately became his favourite one. It held a certain kind of peace and warmth, something he longed for the most. He kept replaying it again and again until he fell asleep, too. The fantasy followed him even to his dreams where it became so real that it was unbearable.

* * *

I woke up unusually early at dawn. Still drowsy I looked around, not comprehending where I was. I was warm and comfy, so ready to close my eyes again, until I notice rising and falling steady flesh under me. That completely woke me up.

I looked up, finding Azriel still fast asleep. He was smiling sweetly, yet the tears rolled down his cheeks, soft whimpers leaving his lips. My chest tightened at the sight. It hurt me to see him like this. I reached up and gently wiped the tears off.

He slowly opened eyes and looked at me, still smiling.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"'Morning, Y/N," he replied, his deep voice raspy in the most sexy way. His thumb started to move up and down my waist in soothing motion.

"Bad dreams?"

"Sometimes dreams can be so beautiful that they make one cry," he murmured. He sounded so sad that I felt like crying too. Instead, I placed both of my hands on his chest and rested my chin on top of them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I searched his eyes.

He shook his head and wiped off the rest of his tears. "I just wish I could go back and keep having the same dream for the rest of my life," he sighed, his eyes never leaving my face.

I propped up on my elbow and caressed his cheek. "You know that dreams don't have to stay dreams. They can became reality if you want them to."

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Determination filled his eyes and he lifted up his head, stopping an inch from my face, waiting.

It was so sudden that I held my breath, but I didn't pull away. Watching me closely, Azriel leaned even closer and his lips lightly grazed over mine. I moaned, my body acting on its own. My eyes closed and I firmly pressed my lips to his. All the years of my suppressed feelings poured into this one kiss, not believing that there would be any more. He groaned and opened up, slowly moving, testing the waters. His fingers dug into flesh of my waist, holding me impossibly close.

It ended as suddenly as it started. He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, heaving.

"I want it to become real."

[yshoons]

ᶻz﹒─ ͏͏͏͏͏͏IT'S YOU THAT I WANT

SYN ── when you try setting them up with someone else, but it's you that they want; "if not you, then who?", enha x fmr, headcannons, ot7

HEESEUNG (희승)

stunned silence, and then rejection

annoyed and flustered that you just can't seem to figure out his feelings for you

"how'd you feel if i set you up with someone?"

there's a long pause that follows as soon as you state your offer, heeseung blinking at you. however, loud rejection falls from his mouth in a matter of seconds and he frantically scrambles for a reason. any reason.

"aww c'mon heeseung!" you groan, "you never go out with anyone, and one of my friends thinks you're really cute,"

"what about you?" he asks.

"what?"

"i said," he mumbles, "what about you?"

you tilt your head at him, confusion obvious on your face. heeseung flushes red, burying his head into his arms.

"dammit, i'm asking you what you think of me,"

JAY (제이)

has to take a breather

resentment, anger, shame (towards you for being dense)

"what are you playing at yn?"

"nothing!" you exclaim, "someone i know think's you're cute, and you're single so i'm just being the messenger here,"

"that's not what i mean," jay groans, "are you really serious or are you just playing with me?"

"playing with you?" you echo, frowning, "you're confusing me jay," you're only met with a laugh from him, and you watch as he runs his hands through his hair and his jaw tightens.

without warning, he grabs your hand placing it onto his chest.

"do you feel this?" he asks, "don't play with my heart, especially when only you can make it do this,"

JAKE (제이크)

in a daze, and ends up agreeing

ends up sputtering about you the whole entire time

you burst through the door to the cafe, easily finding jake, who's left alone at a table.

"jake!" you exclaim, running towards him, "what happened? ahra suddenly called me, saying she left, and that the date was horrible, and that you were horrible, but i was like how would jake be like-"

jake grabs your arm, cutting you off.

". . .she got sick of me talking,"

"she what?" you ask.

"she got sick of me talking about you the whole time," jake mutters sheepishly. he looks up at you, his flushed cheeks and eyes wide.

"i'll apologize to her later," jake starts.

"but it's you that i want to go on a date with,"

SUNGHOON (성훈)

gets angry that you're so dense

rejects right away

"what?" sunghoon asks, a scalding looking on his face.

"hey what's your problem?" you groan, " i'm just trying to help you out man,"

"man?" he grimaces, "seriously yn?"

"what?" you ask.

"be honest, do you even see me as one?"

"as a man?" you repeat.

sunghoon huffs, stepping closer to you, his eyes intense. you can feel the heat radiating from his body and he's practically on you.

"because i know for sure i see you as a woman,"

SUNOO (선우)

sick and tired of you

this is his final straw, ends up confessing

"i said no already, why do you keep pushing?" sunoo asks, annoyance clear.

"you never do stuff like this sunoo, this is an opportunity!" you exclaim, grabbing his hands, "for me?? please? plus haewon is super nice, you'll totally get along with her"

sunoo scoffs, pulling you in closer to him.

"well i don't want any opportunities unless it's one with you, i like you, not anyone else,"

JUNGWON (정원)

confused as hell

goes quiet because he quite literally is crashing out on the inside

ends up confessing

"jungwon?" you call, "are you listening?"

"huh? sorry what'd you say again?" you sigh, eyeing the boy in front of you. he wasn't one to zone out, and ever since you mentioned the possible date he'd gone silent.

"do you not want to go?" you ask, "it's fine i'll tell her you can't. you want to focus on school anyways right? it's always better to-"

jungwon slams his drink onto the table, coughing.

"i'd much rather focus on us," he says.

"us?" you tilt your head, "what about us?"

"god," jungwon laughs, "i like you got it?"

NI-KI (니키)

"yeah no" + nasty side eye

also ends up confessing to you

"yeah absolutely not,"

"oh come on," you groan, "what is your deal? sunoo told me that you complain about this stuff,"

riki furrows his brows at this, but he quickly realizes what sunoo's trying to do.

"oh my god," riki mutters. he glances at you, your eyes wide and innocent. "you're really really really stupid,"

"seriously what is your problem dude?" you grumble.

"my problem is that you can't seem to see that what i want isn't some other girl, but you,"

© YSHOONS 2024

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

Navigating a Fade manifestation of Lucanis' PTSD as the underwater prison he was held and tortured in, to help him start dismantling his fears, begin healing and also accepting Spite, to help them both stop fighting for control, is certainly not on the list of things I expected from this game, but I'm so in love with it.

Even before that, you just know that Lucanis is not alright. He can't possibly be. He doesn't talk about it much, but who would be after the experiences he's had? And there are signs all over the place. I mean, he keeps hiding in the closed space of the pantry like a feral cat under a couch, and likely not just because of Spite, for example. But he keeps it all in, just like he keeps Spite in. Or out, even, in this case. But you also know that he can't go on like that forever.

And now, Lucanis has finally hit the wall. Thankfully, Spite knows what to do. So, he briefly takes the steering wheel. "Help us." ("He'll listen! He always listens to you!" I feel totally normal about knowing this, thanks, Spite.)

Just... the doors of Lucanis' mental prison opening for Rook by themselves as they gently talk down each manifestation of Lucanis' fears and doubts as a metaphor for Lucanis letting Rook in and letting himself be vulnerable with them is just 👌 Delightful. We don't break a single lock. He opens himself up to us.

And it doesn't magically solve all his problems and restore his mental health, of course, but it's a promising start. I like how the game acknowledges this. Rook is there for him, easing some of the worst thoughts, lending him perspective that he lacks because his mental downwards spiral is so thoroughly suffocating at that point. They're helping him start somewhere. Of course, helping Lucanis reach an understanding with Spite, thus helping him end the constant and surely stressful and exhausting battle over his own body there and then, showing him that Rook accepts and cares about him the way he is, so he can start accepting himself that way, goes a long way. It doesn't fix everything, but it's an important breakthrough.

The way Lucanis looks at Rook afterwards, when Teia asks them if they're alright? Also great. 👌

Though I think Rook should be able to hold Lucanis for at least like 300 hours afterwards, because that's approximately the amount of time I need to cry about it - the whole thing, Lucanis' dynamic with Rook, and Spite's trust for Rook and his willingness to play nice despite having been ignored and pushed away for so long.

Actually, poor Spite doesn't get enough credit for all that. He really goes, "Fuck, if he's not going let me in or go to Rook for help, I'm going to pull them into the deepest crevices of his psyche, so they can see the mess for themselves," and improves the situation for himself, Lucanis, and his budding relationship. Good job, Spite!

[lyricwritesprose]

Sometimes, old media is engaging in insensitivity, but it is also doing its best to rip bigots a whole new one.

Like Blazing Saddles. Which has redface (used specifically to mock Hollywood portrayals of natives) and homophobia, and not great representation of the intellectually disabled, and a whole lot of unacceptable language, and was born of Mel Brooks' absolute fiery blinding rage against racists. In my opinion it's his best work, because I don't think he achieved that level of searing anger again and sometimes the best comedy happens when you're in a mood to rip someone's balls off with your teeth.

(It's also intensely memeable. To this day, when I refer to someone as "the common clay of the New West," my husband knows what I'm quoting and where I'm going with it.)

Huckleberry Finn is another one, which this post already covered. Absolutely unacceptable language, absolute rage against the sea of bigots that seemed to be society at the time, would we do it that way now, no. But it doesn't mean it wasn't what the people then needed to see and hear.

The thing is, when you're looking across time, sometimes allyship looks a lot different from what you want out of a modern day individual on the tumblr dot com. And sometimes a writer is ignorant along one axis and absolutely fighting for justice along another. (Dickens was an antisemite. He also gave us so much language and symbolism for talking about poverty, such that my dashboard has been nonstop Dickens for more than a week now—I mean, yes, that's because it's Christmas, but the man wrote such a story that talking about rich people repenting is now part of the fabric of Christmas, and how many writers can even dream of that?) The point is that what we think of as flawed and fumbling and having so many problems it may not be worth it—that thing might have been the best instrument for justice that the writer in question could possibly forge. and it may have done things that our own sense of justice and fairness is built upon.

So it's a good idea to delve deeper than your initial reaction and ask why.

You gotta read and watch some old books and films that aren’t 100% modern politically correct. I’m not saying you should agree with everything in them but you need to learn where genres came from to understand what those genres are doing today and where media deconstructing old tropes is coming from.

Also, more often than you might think, they’re not actually promoting bigotry so much as “didn’t consider all the implications of something” or just used words that were polite then but considered offensive now.

Kill the censor in your head.

[mr2swap]

Late Christmas gift

I looked at the kitchen clock again, “6:36PM” It had only been 2 minutes since I last looked, after that I looked at the phone just to confirm that the time was correct, Maybe Grandpa Greg's flight had missed. Delayed? We hadn't seen each other, I placed my grandfather's glasses over my eyes, which I had easily gotten used to always having at my side.

I hated these stupid glasses, Grandpa's eyes work as much as his tiny, wrinkled cock, it's been over a year since me and Grandpa swapped bodies, I'd forgotten to buy a damn gift for Grandpa Greg, I didn't even know he liked me. To old people before I became one... I should have given him a foot massager. This huge belly makes my feet so tired that I prefer not to move from the couch for hours.

Anyway, I didn't have a gift, so I just wrote on a piece of paper “Valid for any gift.” How the hell was I supposed to know that what I wanted for Christmas was to be young again?”

The day after Christmas we simply woke up in each other's bodies and the worst thing of all is that we can't say anything about this ridiculous body swapping! Every time I try to tell my parents or one of my friends that I'm trapped in my grandfather Greg's obese, disgusting decrepit body, those thoughts just disappear from my mind and I start talking like I'm a 60-year-old old man. The last time I tried to tell my ex-girlfriend Stephanie, I “woke up” at the racetrack showing off my enormous stomach with a pipe in my lips and several empty beer cans around me.

But all this would end soon... or at least it was supposed to. We had tried everything to swap again, we even watched a long marathon of body swap movies to try various methods, but nothing worked... the only solution was to try to recreate what caused this problem in the first place, I just had to give him the same gift, and he would write “my body back” or something like that.

My family was preparing for dinner when suddenly a sound that came from my cell phone made me put the beer I was drinking on my huge belly.

“I'm sorry kid, but I didn't know how to tell you in person, I decided to leave things as they are for a while, I still have things to do with your body, but don't worry I'll be back for the new year... maybe, I just met a guy incredible on the beach and I wouldn't want to ruin it”

Hey guys! happy holidays!

This is a little story I wrote last year for my Ko-Fi page, thank you all so much for another wonderful year, if you like bodyswap and stories you can support me on my Ko-fi page to access my archive of over 250 bodyswap stories, from my old patreon and discord…

oh! And join my discord server, if you like RP or if you have any ideas that you would like me to write in a future story, I'm taking suggestions for ideas and images.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Pazzi angst fluff!!!

protect you

an: first one shot!!! TRIGGER WARNING HANNAH HIDALGO MENTIONED!!! anyways enjoy!!!

------------------------------------------------------

paige was just lying on azzis chest as they watched home alone at azzis parents house. everyone else was asleep so it was just the two of them. ice being the instigator she is texted paige a tiktok of a hannah hidalgo live. paige watched the video volume on low so azzi couldn't hear. "what do you think of azzi fudd, i don't think about her what are you talking about." "there was no azzi in that game. congratulations! nobody asked." the words irked paige in a way she'd rather not describe she just huffed and started frantically typing out this long ass paragraph in hannah's dms before azzi heard the sound of typing.

"paige baby whatchu so stressed about?" she asked her voice soft as she places a soft hand on paige's cheek.

"fuckin hate hidalgo." she groans still typing. azzi gently tries to take paige's phone out of her hand but she doesn't budge.

"stop it azzi!" she says her voice more annoyed than usual causing azzi to flinch back.

"paige what is your problem." snatches paige's phone shoving it under her butt causing paige to sit up next to her climbing off of her chest.

"you didn't see her fucking live it was all "azzi fudd this azzi fudd that" blah blah blah bad mouthing my girl." azzi groaned and rolled her eyes. brushing her hair out of her face so she could properly yell at paige.

"paige i don't give a fuck what she has to say. i promise you it's fine. now what were you typing?" she asks pulling the phone back out and reading the text paige had wrote. still unsent thank god. azzi reads the message.

"fucking talk about my girl like that one more time and you're gonna find yourself trouble. this ain't about basketball and you know it. you gotta problem with me and my girlfriend say it to my fucking face not the whole internet. you're immature and you have no class-"

that's where azzi took the phone. her mouth is hung open as she reads the words and she stands up.

"paige madison you were not about to throw away your fucking career over this. you can't just say that." she's clearly mad. but all i'm good reason, she wanted paige to be the best she could be, get all the awards win all the games, the championships anything she could, this was not gonna help.

"you think i wouldn't do that to stand up for you azzi." paige doesn't stand up she stays seated, her anger all gone as she realized azzi was right. but her words were true. if it had hurt azzi in anyway she'd send it in a second.

"m'sorry i just wanna protect you." azzis face drops at paige's sweet words and she sits back in the spot on her couch with a huff.

"you're so fucking stupid." azzi grumbles but the cant hide the small smile on her face. she's deleted the paragraph and turned off paige's phone. of course paige crawls over and curls back into azzis chest.

"jus love you" she mumbles into azzis shirt and she can't help but hold the blonde close.

"i know i love you too so much." she whispers pressing soft kisses against her forehead.

"next time talk to me first alright. think before you act." paige nods and turns her attention back to the movie and the beautiful girl underneath her.

[rivertalesien]

A lot of ideas can co-exist.

There are activists on Tumblr. Some have been "activated" online. They've grown up on Tumblr. Tumblr is a default location for so many to try and urge others to act on their own best interests. There's no better way to use Tumblr than through fandoms.

That means the bad faith operators use them, too.

We've seen radicalizing in fandoms for years. Terfs do it, fascists do it.

One of the ways they have been particularly effective is in shutting down any conversation they don't want people to have. And it has worked. There are outcroppings in every social media sphere where people are: NO POLITICS. NO LGBTQ TALK. NO GENOCIDE TALK. NO BAD STUFF. PERIOD. No one wants to go through the drama of sorting it all out. It's been traumatizing for a lot of people. Cutting everything potentially problematic back is one way of dealing with the problem and making sure nothing toxic starts to take hold again.

There's upsides to that and some downsides: how people have been radicalized says a lot. I know some folks just want to get the revolution started and think banging heads together out here will do it.

So there's folks who have grown up here to reject that, fight against it and try to push others toward "action" without ever really being able to define what that "action" should be. There's folks who don't even realize they're desperation for "action" turns them off the folks who do not want anymore trauma. When you're deep in that mindset, you're not much better than a troll, really, and about as effective.

Yes, mental health/physical trauma is a real and valid reason some folks will not engage with political content of any kind.

Want to be an effective activist?

Online is never where it is at. You are simply not going to move people here. It won't happen. The need for the protective bubble is just too strong. You can use your platform to spread information, activist activities that are happening offline or specific ways people can help themselves and others, which people can then choose to participate in by sharing with their circles. That's it. That's what you can do here. If something goes viral here, it won't be because you pushed it on folks, judged them. Made them feel bad. People have to walk by themselves. They can't be forced along.

If you really need to feel some movement in the world, get involved locally. Join a school board. Library board. Volunteer at food banks, community gardens. Setup a booth at the mall or other community location and learn how to engage with people directly. More people will just walk on by, but once in a while, someone will come up to you and really want to know what's up. It doesn't feel rewarding or cinematically revolutionary, but that's how it's done. You can't start with a massive audience from day one. It's one to one to one to one until there are ten. Until there are twenty. Until there are a hundred.

If you need to go a step further, help a labor union. Join the picket lines. Encourage others to join unions. That's big right now and an effective way forward.

And don't forget that a huge part of what is going on in this world is a lack of compassion. A lack of humanity toward others. Everyone needs it. We need love and gentleness and kindness. If your activism doesn't start there, it won't end there. You may not believe it because you live in your own bubble of Rightness. If you think other people's suffering justifies you being a dick, you're not helping them. Donate to their GFMs. Encourage others to. Kindly. *That* helps.

Online is where we archive. Where we keep track. Where people find solidarity in the things that keep them going. That keep our humanity intact. That's the best of it. The worst is when we stomp around on it and tell others how they should feel and how they should live. That's not activism. That's policing. If there's one thing activism should never involve, it's policing others.

I'm a good twenty-odd years in this game now. I work in my community and my state and I'm telling you: you're not going to change the world online. The movements you have seen that seem to arise and build awareness? Online was incidental. It wasn't what made it happen. Bitching at people for "not caring enough" not sharing enough trauma posts or what not, is not what makes change happen. Nobody knows you. You're a stranger who walked into their house and told them YOU'RE DOING IT ALL WRONG and only added to their own trauma. It's not helping anyone at all.

PS: people talk politics all the time. They just might not be talking about it with you. For a very good reason.

Humble yourself a little. It won't hurt.

We need all of us in this time. Set a better example. Let people come to you. Go out and meet your neighbors. People need connection, not judgement. That's how this works.

I am actually begging some people to just let some spaces exist untouched by real-world issues and horrors.

Like I've lost count of the amount of times peaceful game or fandom servers have been ruined by people stampeding in with political rants, bitching about world issues, demanding internal activism, demanding vent channels so they can whine about their shitty parents, ect.

Like. Respectfully. Not every single space has to be inclusive of and welcoming of outside topics. The real world sucks. We don't needed to be reminded of that absolutely everywhere.

[elene78-blog]

I have read some comments about the stress that Cat, Laila and Jeremy cause Jean by trying to find out about her situation. I've read others saying that the way Jeremy informs the group about things that Jean tells him is horrible. Sensitive information about your experiences.

They are negative opinions and I find this super interesting.

I can see a clear contrast between the way the Ravens act and the way the Trojans act here.

The Ravens were intentionally ignoring Jean's situation. We can say that they knew something was happening. They have seen Jean beaten to the extreme. They have seen him continually injured, to the point of saying that “he has fragile bones.” Regardless of whether or not they knew Jean's age when he suffered from AS, they generated rumors that could do a lot of damage. They continue to feed them now.

Let's not fool ourselves. The Ravens KNEW someone was hurting Jean to the extreme. His response was to ignore it until it was normalized. They only talked about it with the intention of fueling the torture.

In response, Jean also normalized it.

In contrast to this, we have Trojans, which react in the opposite way.

The Trojans clearly see that Jean has suffered the unspeakable. They see that Jean has great difficulty adjusting. They see that Jean has been tortured when they see his scars. Jeremy finds out some things and discreetly passes it on to his closest friends, who are also the people closest to Jean in this complicated situation. This information is kept in a closed circle, which is the Trojans. It doesn't come out of there (that we know of).

Many people criticize this act.

I think what is important here is the intention with which the Trojans and Jeremy seek this information.

The Ravens interfered to hurt and create a harmful environment. The Trojans intrude to validate Jean's pain and create an environment appropriate to his current needs.

Let's face it; Jean needs help, but he is in a very difficult situation to acquire it, especially because of his own brainwashing. People who have lived with people who want to hurt themselves will know that these people tend to hide the problem (They don't see it or they think there is no solution), and this is one of the biggest difficulties in helping them.

If you don't see there is a problem, you can't help.

If the Trojans didn't meddle, Jean's pain wouldn't be validated. The message would be very similar to that of the Ravens: “we don't care. You don't matter to us”, therefore, Jean would continue normalizing his situation.

By getting involved, you are sending another message: “I care about this situation. What you have suffered is not normal. “You matter and I want to help you, even if I don’t know how.”

Trojans do not fuel rumors. On the contrary, they want to clarify them so that Jean feels accepted (Lucas does not, but because there is an obvious sentimental conflict).

What I want to say is that, although it shocks us and we don't see it as entirely correct, Jeremy's performance is, in part, appropriate. He tries to find Jean's need and conveys it to the people closest to him (Cat and Laila, with whom he lives) so that they know that there are limits and a series of problems to deal with that Jean does not want to confront.

The goal is to “be careful” and “watch out” for a catastrophic reaction. The goal is to create a pleasant and appropriate environment that can “push” Jean to seek the help he needs.

With the little information Jean gives them, the Trojans are creating a safety net that can pick him up and propel him toward help.

Kevin, Renee, Abby and Wymack did something similar. They would not allow Jean to return to the Ravens even though that was what he wanted. They ignored his consent because they knew he was not of sound mind.

Jeremy, Cat and Laila are doing exactly the same thing. Jean may not like it (actually, I don't think Jean is against this, correct me if I'm wrong), but this is what he needs FOR NOW.

Since Jean has had great problems with consent and limits, the fact that the Trojans talk about what Jean experienced without his consent seems like an attack against him, but let's not forget that this will not always be the case. This is an exceptional circumstance.

The ultimate goal is for Jean to be able to say no and establish clear limits, developing autonomy. But right now, if given that facility, we know what would happen.

Jean would not seek help, he would continue to feed her brainwashing, he would continue to think that he deserved the worst and... most likely, one day he would end his life, without caring about Kevin's promise.

Let's not confuse talking about a person's situation discreetly to their close circle with the sole objective of HELPING and SEEKING SOLUTIONS, with generating rumors to DESTROY him.

Let us also not forget that this is a TEMPORARY situation until Jean regains his personal autonomy. The boy is brainwashed. Until this goes away, Jean needs a few very very gentle (keep that in mind, Abby) slaps of reality to wake up.

This is what Cat, Jeremy and Laila are working on in hopes that Jean will get the boost he needs ON HIMSELF.

[cowboylikefaith]

with great power...

art donaldson spiderman! au x reader

summary: stanford has a masked superhero on the loose, and you're trying to crack down on his identity. little do you know, it's your boyfriend art.

warnings: cursing, injuries, reader highkey gets mugged, art is being mysterious af, reader is incredibly oblivious, sappy at the end sorry, not proofread

author's note: HI so this is actually my first time writing a fic ever... but this au idea has been absolutely rotting in my brain for the past week or so and i need to get it out. enjoy!!!!!!

╰🕸️ ₊✧ ﾟ❤️⚬𓂂➢

"dude!" you say barging into art's dorm (not realizing that your poor boyfriend was in the middle of a nap) "look at the topic the newspaper just assigned me. some shithead on campus is doing parkour in a scuba suit, people are calling him 'spiderman'."

art is pulled out of his trance-like state when he hears the name fall out of your mouth. you feel bad after realizing you woke him up, seeing him wipe his tired eyes with a pout on his lips. "hey pretty" he says with a lopsided smirk on his face "what were you talking about? some spider-idiot?" you hop into bed next to him "yeah it's nothing...sorry for waking you up, just go back to bed, 'kay?"

you don't know what's been up with art recently. he rarely returns your calls, he's always tired, and when he's awake, he's either in a rush or incredibly sluggish. you asked patrick about it and he said that the beginning of a new tennis season is wearing both of them down. seems reasonable, right?

now, it's been a few weeks since you were assigned this story, and jess (your senior editor) wants you to photograph and interview this spiderman guy, because apparently he's some kind of campus superhero (returning stolen laptops, helping drunk sorority girls avoid getting hit by cars, the usual) however you have no leads so far.

until one day, tashi tells you a story about how he saved a freshman from the tennis team from being hazed, and you decide to ask your boyfriend about it.

"you don't know anything about a kid named steven mcdonald, do you?" you ask art as you settle down to watch some gossip girl.

"that freshman who survived a hazing incident? yeah, i know of him" he replies as he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead.

you pull away with furrowed eyebrows "well did he...say...anything about that night?"

"uh no. no, not really" he says (a little distantly) "anyway! i seriously don't understand why serena loves dan so much, nate is obviously the better choice for her."

you roll your eyes sarcastically "wow donaldson...really smooth transition! way to change the subject there honey."

"i'm sorry.." he replies as he plays with your hair "it's just that...i don't want you getting mixed up in that kind of stuff. if you got hurt.." he sighs "i don't know what i'd do with myself"

and so you promise art that you'll stop working on the article...until jess says she'll kick you out of the stanford star if you do.

one night, as you're walking back to your dorm after dinner with tashi and patrick (third wheel much?), a man in a black ski mask suddenly approaches you and orders you to put your hands up.

"give me your fucking heels lady...and your purse!" he demands.

"oh god no" you shut your eyes and groan "please sir, these are really expensive and- and these are manolo blahniks!! my mom bought-"

before you can finish your rambling, you can hear a thud, and when open your eyes, you can see that he's been wrapped up in some web-like substance.

"don't worry, he's not dead" a figure says as he walks out from behind the criminal. you feel like you know him, you can't even see his face but something about him is just so familiar, and you can't put your finger on it. until..

oh my god

"oh my god! you're spiderman! thank you so much, seriously. that guy could've killed me" you say excitedly, forgetting about your past opinions about him.

art- i mean spiderman, chuckles and says that it's no problem, and asks if he could take you back to your dorm.

"yeah! i would love that, thank you." you reply "actually, could i take your photo? i'm doing an article about you for the stanford star." oh and art eats it UP. he's doing stupid poses and acting silly and goofy (just to hear you laugh of course).

you get back to your dorm safely, and spiderart bids you farewell. just before he leaps out your window, he pulls a red stanford cap (one that you've never noticed, and one that looks suspiciously like art's) out of his pocket.

"hey, maybe i'll see you around" he says as he puts the cap on...backwards. something that only art would do. lucky enough for him, you're too tired to notice.

"...and those are the differences between meiosis and mitosis." you're trying to study for another biology exam when all of a sudden you hear a tapping noise on your window.

at first you think it's a bird, or some frat boy trying to piss you off by throwing empty beer cans at your window, but the tapping turns into banging and you start to hear sounds of pain through the glass.

you run to the window and see a boy in a familiar red and blue suit sitting on the windowsill. this time with a huge gash in his side.

"spiderman? oh my god, get inside, what happened?" you ask while scrambling for a first aid kit. art falls onto your bed, unknowingly bleeding all over your new floral sheets. he groans and holds his side, mumbling something about...well god knows what.

art protests as you try to patch up the very open wound by his waist. "you're just like my boyfriend art," you say with a grin "he gets all fucked up during his tennis matches and doesn't let me help him out." you can hear him through the mask but you can't tell if it's a laugh or a whimper.

"jesus- how long is this going to take? i have an econ final to study for" he says with a wince. "not very long if you sit still, spiderboy" you retort "why don't you take off your mask? you must be dying with that thing on."

you feel his face, and it feels...familiar. you slowly take off the mask, and reveal art's lips, sculpted nose, blue and brown eyes, and tousled blonde hair.

suddenly you realize. you realize the reasons for the missed calls, hurried kisses, and rain-checked dates. all this time you've been thinking that it was tennis kicking his ass, when really art was kicking other people's.

"hi honey" art mumbles, same lopsided, boyish smile that you fell in love with gracing his face "i'm sorry. i should have told you." before you can say anything, he kisses you and sneaks his hands to the small of your back. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulls you into his lap.

"i missed you" you say, pulling away with a pout. you card your hands through his blonde curls. "i know, i know, i'm sorry pretty girl, it's just that...i don't want you to worry about me." art replies, pushing your hair away from your face.

you flick his forehead. "you dumbass. of course i'm going to worry about you, whether you like it or not...because i like you. a lot. no matter what kind of freaky superpowers you have." art lets out a weak chuckle, then he kisses you like a man stuck in the desert for 40 days. you can feel him drawing small circles along your hips and caressing your thumb.

you pull away one last time. "now tell me spiderboy...how did you go from tennis team captain to stanford superhero?"

[chongoblog]

You mentioned in a post a while ago an RPG maker game that was so bad it inspired you to start a project that could execute some of its ideas better (iirc), I read the post and immediately recognized the game you were talking about. It's always occupied a weird space in my mind as an oddity of a game that didn't really have any reason to exist, so if you don't mind i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on it.

The project has been on hold (like my 132476 other projects) but yeah!

So first of all I won't be sharing the name of this game because I don't wanna send unnecessary hate its way. Like, making a game and putting it out there is huge, and I'd hate to send a bunch of negativity towards it, and if I find that one of my followers went to it and review-bombed it, then I hold more contempt for that person than the people who made this game.

That said, the crux of the game was you were controlling the main character of the game, but the main character was aware of the fact that you are controlling their actions and as communicating with you about what you need to do. Not a bad concept. I really liked it! The problem came with execution.

There's a lot of specific parts of it that I could point to, but it can really be summed up by the opening. The girl wakes up and does the standard "whoa! what? why did I stand up like this? I-I didn't do that!!" and then a text box appears and responds to her saying "yeah, that was me". Then when you try to leave the hospital, the mc says "wait a minute, maybe we should inspect These Three Spots first!" and then the game turns you around, followed by the text box responding "ugh...fine....".

There are two big problems here in my mind. First of all, this powerful idea of you controlling the main character and the main character being aware creates this sort of connection between the player and the main character (one that I think we'll see more of as Toby releases more of Deltarune, although this game came out a few years earlier), and the issue is that when the game itself gives the player dialogue, that really undercuts it. Like, later in the story, the player dialogue flirts with the mc, which is something I know I wouldn't do as a player. So it's not so much that you're a player controlling the main character who is aware, but you're a player controlling a ghost that is controlling the main character, and the main character is aware of the ghost, but the ghost is not the player.

The second big issue is a lot more understandable because you have to tell a story, but it's very silly to have the main character go "oh my god you have control over my every action!!" and then when you try to leave an area early, the main characters says "no don't do that yet" and then disallows you from leaving the area.

Just to gush about my ideas for this, my project idea was to make all verbal communication be one-way, while finding other ways to communicate. For example, when the main character first wakes up, they realize "oh shit I'm not controlling my body!!" and then he says "alright, well weird ghost controlling me...I don't know what to call you....so tell you what, walk me over to that desk. There's a pen and paper. Use my body to write your name" which determines the name on your file.

But here's the fun part. Let's say you decide "no, I'm not gonna do that". You can just walk out of the room. If you do, the main character just goes "um...okay? Fine then. I'm gonna call you 'Jerkface'" and the name on your file is "Jerkface", and he calls you Jerkface for the rest of the game. (And maybe if you go back, he goes "oh? what's the matter? don't like being called Jerkface? what? does that seem kinda rude? impolite maybe? almost as impolite as just TAKING CONTROL OF MY BODY WITHOUT TELLING ME YOUR NAME FIRST????")

Needless to say, I have a lot of ideas for this, I just need to execute them, and for all my complaints towards this game, I absolutely respect that they made it happen.

[werevampiwolf]

Yeah. At 19, I was finally diagnosed with autism and as unable to live independently without years of occupational therapy and my mother said "fuck that" and threw me out of the house two days later. She'd fought the doctors my entire life to stopbe from being diagnosed, because then that would mean there was something "wrong" with me.

I was homeless for over a year. I'm no longer homeless, mostly due to getting very very lucky with circumstances outside my control (like the fact that I was young enough and had been homeless long enough while continuing to take classes at the local community college to qualify for a government grant for Unaccompanied Homeless Youth, which allowed me to get an apartment. And i was only able to take classes because I was poor enough that the classes were free, and because i had a broken laptop and it never got stolen AND i already knew how to fix computers so I was about to Franken-Computer it into it being and staying at least slightly usable AND the fact that the nearest Starbucks was understanding and didn't throw me out or call the cops when I spent hours in there to do coursework), so my mother takes this as a win. Obviously, the doctor must have been wrong because when I was forced to sink or swim, I've stayed alive (very literally in this case).

I would argue that even now, going on a decade later, I'm not so much "living on my own" as I am "barely surviving", but I try to make it very clear, both to her and to people I tell this story to, that the problem with "Sink or Swim" is that people who sink fucking DROWN.

Because even as someone who was forced, and who managed to just barely keep my head above the water... I'm a very staunch opponent to the idea of Sink or Swim. What I had to live through was horrible, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. But not only that, I was very acutely aware that my only options were to figure it out or to quite literally Die.

As someone who survived the extreme of the other side of this coin that OP is talking about... the idea that I or anyone else could manage to survive such circumstances and then turn around and insist that the ends justify the means is both baffling and appalling to me, though I know that it very much happens. I cannot see it as anything other than "I suffered, so you should have to suffer too." It's awful to be on either side of this coin, and if you think it's okay for force people to Sink or Swim, whether you've been in that situation or not, than you can fuck right off with that shit.

Side note, I'm someone with support needs on the higher end of medium. I still can't manage to brush my teeth independently, and I don't manage to feed myself consistently, though I at least manage to do it often enough to get enough calories in me to stay alive (and that's ignoring anything other than calories that make up a healthy and balanced diet, because that's not an option for me. It's eat whatever junk food I manage to get into my my mouth or starve). I have to rely on schedules, because my brain doesn't really understand what hunger feels like. I just eventually feel like I'm going to throw up, and if I'm lucky, my brain figures out that I haven't eaten in all day and that's probably why. But there are days when, even if you put a plate of food in front of me, it wouldn't occur to me to eat it. I will just sit there and stare at it (or into space) without outside promoting to eat. I maybe manage to take out the trash or do laundry every two weeks if I lucky, and sometimes it's only once a month, or less. I have plastic bottles that haven't been taken out in at least six months, and probably closer to a year. Perhaps the only reason I can see the other side of this coin is because I basically live as close to edge as is physically possible without going over the edge, but I really hope that's not it. I don't think people should have to be constantly teetering on the knife-edge of this reality to understand that It's Really Fucking Bad to force people to Sink or Swim, or as I prefer to call it, Survive Or Die.

I don’t think people understand how it is to have been behind on EVERY milestone. Learning how to walk? Late. Learning to read? Late. Learning to use the bathroom independently? Late. Every single milestone was late.

And when you have this, people ask questions. People bully you. Why can’t you shower by yourself at 9,10,15,20? Why can’t you brush your teeth independently and frequently? Why can’t you tie your shoes? Why can’t you do math? Why can’t you do this, or that.

And then there’s the people on social media. “Well I was forced to.” “Well I didn’t have a choice” and that’s understandable and completely valid, but there are people that no matter how much you force them, or neglect them so they “figure it out” they won’t “figure it out”. They’ll die. They’ll starve. They’ll not bathe and be dirty.

Higher support needs people don’t just “figure it out” our brains are wired differently. Our brains don’t get that we HAVE to do these things just to survive. So we don’t. And that sucks.

It’s disheartening to constantly hear people say “well i was forced to” because so was I!! I was forced to do things too! I was neglected too! And guess what? I still didn’t do those things. I STILL wasn’t able to meet those milestones.

The big one that I see is “well I’m forced to talk.” And I get that, but me, a person that’s nonverbal, can’t be forced to talk. No matter if I’m neglected, no matter if my device is taken away or I have no way of communication. I still wouldn’t be able to talk. I CANNOT force myself to talk. Get that through your heads. This is my reality, and although yours sucked there are still some people who cannot do things, and saying that they could if they were “forced” is invalidating of them.

[taeyongdoyoung]

that's a warning

summary: your professor's age is not a problem to you. and neither is his dark secret... pairing: professor!chan x uni student!reader genre: dark academia, vampire!au, smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), mentions of toxic friend, descriptions of blood, kissing, biting, eating out, blowjob, daddy kink (who's surprised?), ddlg implied, size kink, unprotected sex, forbidden relationship, insecurities, danger kink author's note: this is based on a dream i had + inspired by railway, obviously. read at your own risk 🥵 too many references to the song's lyrics in bold, sawrryyy word count: 3k

The moment you set your eyes on Professor Bang, you know that you need to have him. You've never felt an attraction so intense, so overpowering, so sinister in its obsession. You are willing to go to any lengths to get close to him. Even if it kills you.

It starts off innocent, almost childlike. The way you stay after his lectures to ask him silly questions (you know the answers to) about the homework. Sometimes you ask him about the location of other lecture halls (even though you've been to them hundreds of times). Sometimes you go to his office hours just to be alone with him (even though you are perfectly confident in understanding the study material).

At first, Chan accepts your incessant flood of questions with an easy-going smile. If he's being honest with himself, he likes the attention. It's been a while since someone's been that interested in talking to him. Especially someone so…young. Most students usually avoid his intense stare. He's been told it's far too intimidating. He tries to be welcoming to everyone but he's not sure he's doing a good job.

But as the semester nears its end, his patience wears thin. You always get full marks on your assignments and quizzes so he doesn't understand why you are constantly asking for his "help". And he's certain you know your way around the university better than any other student. You're always on time and your homework is flawless 100% of the time. So, he really doesn't get it. Are you messing with him? Is it funny to you to joke around with a poor old lonely professor?

Chan's decided he's had enough. And this time, when you catch him alone after the lecture, he's going to confront you.

"Cut the act," Professor Bang scolds you directly. "I know you know the answer to that question. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, Professor Bang?" you ask innocently, while batting your eyelashes.

"Pretending you're dumb. It's obvious you're a top student, so why are you always asking me stuff?" he grunts and pins you down with his intense gaze you're so addicted to.

Hell, you've never felt more terrified. It excites you.

"Don't you know already?" you mumble quietly. You want to look away but you're trapped in his beautiful dark eyes. So you don't.

"Is it fun, messing with an old man like me, huh? Is it some stupid college dare?" Chan asks, his insecurities getting the worst of him.

"You're not old," you insist passionately. "There's no dare. I just…like you."

"You…like me?" he repeats in disbelief.

You nod furiously, trying to convince him of your sincerity.

"But…why?"

"What do you mean why? You're so smart and handsome and sometimes even cute. I like…how you explain stuff like you don't think anyone is dumb, you're so patient and…warm."

Huh. Warm? It's been a while since someone's used that word to describe him, Chan thought.

"You do realize we could both get in trouble if…" he can't even believe he's even considering this. "If we were to…pursue something outside of the university walls?"

Fuck it, he said it.

"I know. I won't tell anyone, I promise," you are desperately grasping at straws as you find yourself so close to the one thing you've ever wanted more than anything.

Professor Bang shakes his head.

"I'm not asking you to keep it a complete secret. Just…if you choose to share it with people, be careful who you trust."

"I understand, Professor, I'll be careful," you promise.

"And…call me Chris or Chan or something," he shrugs. "When it's just us two."

God. It's really happening.

"Let me take you out to a restaurant," he offers suddenly. "Tomorrow evening?"

"That sounds amazing!" you grin excitedly.

Your first date with Chan arrives and you are so happy you feel like you could die. You don't wanna jinx things so soon and don't tell anyone where you're going.

"You look stunning," he compliments your dress as he pulls a chair out for you.

"Thank you so much, Chris," you smile and take a seat. "You look absolutely dashing, as always."

He chuckles but doesn't respond rightaway.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…I don't hear that much. Especially not from beautiful young women such as yourself."

"You're surely joking?" you frown. "Anyone would kill to be in my shoes right now."

"You're too kind," Chan replies, not seeming to believe your words and you decide to drop the subject. For now. "What would you like to drink?"

"Hmm…maybe some red wine?"

"Good choice," he smirks. "And food?"

"I'm really into pasta these days!" you squeal with excitement.

Chris orders for the two of you, making your heart flutter for the hundredth time. He's just…so dependable.

Till the food arrives, you busy yourselves with getting to know each other better. Outside of the university walls, it turns out you are both passionate about things other than academic endeavours. And with each glass of red, it becomes easier to share stuff about yourself with him.

As the evening nears its natural conclusion, Chan insists on paying the bill for the food and drinks.

"Now I feel bad," you pout adorably, clinging onto his arm for support, because all the wine made your legs slightly unstable. "Let's go for coffee!"

"I don't…really drink coffee," Chris confesses shyly.

"Tea, then! Please, I don't want to go home just yet. This night is so perfect, I don't want it to end."

"Okay, okay," he agrees easily.

You lead the way to one of your favourite cafés. This time, you excitedly pay for the warm beverages.

"It's snowing outside!" you marvel at the pretty snowflakes falling, illuminated by the street lights.

"Good thing we're all cozy and inside, then," Chan chuckles.

"Yeah…" you smile softly. "I really like you, Chan," you admit.

"I know, you said that a couple of times," he shakes his head, amused.

"Yes, but…you didn't say anything. Do you like me, too?" you inquire self-consciously.

"I do like you. You're very clever and funny and obviously super pretty."

"Really?" you blink furiously to stop yourself from tearing up. You don't get to hear something like that by someone you admire so much. Someone who inspires you to be as diligent and hard-working as him. Scratch that. You don't get to hear words like that very often. It sometimes strikes you how badly you need to be acknowledged for your efforts.

"You must know that."

"No, actually, I don't," you smile sadly. "But it's really nice of you to say it. True or not."

Chan stretches his hand out across the table to hold yours.

"Hey. It's true, okay?"

"Guess I'll stick around to find out, yeah? And maybe I'll help you believe it, too," you suggest.

"Maybe. I'd really like that."

And stick around you do. The next semester, Chan is no longer your Professor, so you don't have to worry so much about getting in trouble with the university's authorities. Eventually, as things start becoming more serious, you decide to share the news about your boyfriend's identity with a few of your closest friends.

Luckily, most of them are super supportive and happy about your relationship. They tell you that you've looked happier recently and are pleased to finally know the reason. There is one friend, however, who is completely against.

"I don't approve. You can't date him," she outright says.

"Can't? Excuse me?" you become aggravated. You've had some fights in the past, situations when she's been jealous of you hanging out with other friends and has done some toxic stuff behind your back. So, her reaction doesn't come as a complete surprise. But still, it sucks that she hasn't outgrown this kind of pettiness.

"He's like…too old for you. And the fact he was your Professor is just…gross."

"How can you say that? You've never even met him."

"Then, let me meet him."

"Why would you meet him if you've already made up your mind?"

"To make sure he's worthy of you, duh."

"That's my call to make. Not yours."

And with that, you leave. This is just…too much. Later, you talk to another friend about this situation to get a second opinion.

"Nah, fuck her. I mean, it's your relationship, she can't dictate how you feel or who you're seeing romantically."

"Right? That's exactly what I've been thinking."

"It sucks that she said those stuff but maybe you're better off," your other friend shrugs.

"Yeah…For the time being, I'll distance myself from her. If she starts acting like an adult, only then will I consider letting her back in."

"That's totally valid," your friend agrees. "Take your time and look after your mental health."

"Thank you so much. I knew you'd get it."

"Always!"

Soon after that, you hang out at Chan's place and you decide to talk talk to him about the falling-out with that toxic friend.

"Well, technically, I am too old for you."

"The fuck you are! Are you taking her side?" you cry out passionately.

"Hell, no! I'm just saying…you could find any college guy your age and…"

"No, shut up, Chris!" you shake your head, refusing to entertain such an idea. "I don't want anyone but you!"

"But I'm dangerous for you," Chan sighs. But you can't believe that. He's been nothing but kind and accepting in the short time you've known each other.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"You'd think I'm crazy if I told you," he grins somewhat devilishly. "It'd be better if I showed you instead. But then, I'd have to kill you."

"W-what?" you stammer, his behaviour totally unlike the gentle guy you're used to seeing.

Suddenly, Chris grabs your wrist and starts pulling you somewhere.

"W-where are we g-going?" you ask helplessly but he doesn't respond. He's too strong to fight him back so you just try to keep up with his speed and follow him down the stairs and into the basement. Where you'll find answers to questions you didn't even know you were supposed to be asking.

When he unlocks the door, you are greeted with red. A lot of it.

"What is all this?"

"Come on, sweetheart, I thought you were smarter than that," Chris chuckles.

"It's…blood banks," you state the obvious, feeling dumber than ever.

"Wow, you don't say," Chris replies sarcastically.

"Why…why do you have all this blood in your basement? Is it like a…kink thing?!" you gasp in shock.

"No, darling, it's not a kink thing," he laughs, the idea incredibly amusing. "Take a guess."

"Are you a serial killer?" you try to think of a logical explanation.

"You're too realistic," Chris sighs. "Think…something you never thought possible."

"You're…a vampire!" you exclaim triumphantly.

"Bingo," he confirms unenthusiastically. "So, your friend was correct to worry. I am too old for you. And bad for you. I never should have let this go so far."

You shake your head.

"N-no, she's not right," you disagree. "I don't care."

"You don't care?" Chris tilts your chin up, facing you directly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to restrain myself from sucking your blood dry?"

You gulp nervously but refuse to believe he'd actually do that. Especially considering he hasn't done so already…

"Why did you become a Professor surrounded by so many humans if self-control is so hard for you?" you push back cleverly.

"It's never been a problem for me to control my thirst. Until you."

"Then, why did you let me get so close?" you inquire.

"Because I was weak…And lonely. I shouldn't have let you in."

Your eyes tear up with emotion.

"Are you saying you'd be happier without me?"

"Happier?" Chris scoffs. "No, I wouldn't be happier. But you would be safer without me."

"Fuck that," you argue. "I am safe when it's just you and me. Knowing you're a vampire changes nothing about how I feel about you."

"Then, you're even more insane than I am," Chris sighs, unable to deny the growing tension between you two.

You kiss him roughly to prove him right, digging your fingers into his soft hair. He kisses you back just as hungrily, incapable of letting you go.

Yes, he may be dangerous for you. But so are you. Willingly pursuing him, not running away from him despite knowing the truth.

He grabs your hair and pulls back, exposing your neck.

"Last chance to get out of here. That's a warning," Chris whispers darkly.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you grin, completely trusting him.

Even if he was your Professor, even if he is way older than you than you initially thought, even if he is a blood-sucking predator, there is no one else you'd trust so unconditionally, so irrevocably.

"What if I hurt you?" he asks, a hint of worry making his dark eyes glow with warmth.

"You couldn't," you insist and close your eyes, tilting your neck. "You can bite me, if you want."

"You're crazy," Chris repeats.

"I trust you," you speak your thoughts out loud.

And this is his breaking point. He attacks your neck with his sharp fangs, not wanting to hold back any longer. The bite stings but in such a sweet way you would be happy to go, if this was your fate…As he drinks from you, you weakly wrap your hands around his neck for support, needing him to ground you. Just as badly as he needed one taste from your delicious blood. If your blood is what Chris needs for survival, then he will surely be your undoing.

Somehow, against all reason, Chan manages to detach his fangs from your neck.

"Fuck," he caresses your neck, smearing the blood all over your porcelain skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you murmur dazedly. "I'm okay."

He holds you close, kissing your cheeks and trying to clean up the mess he made.

"Let's get out of here," Chan suggests and lifts you in his arms, carrying you back to the coziness of his place.

"I don't mind," you reassure him. "You being a vampire, that is. I love every part about you. I love...you."

"You…love me?" Chan gasps in surprise.

"I do, I love you," you say once again for good measure.

He doesn't say anything, just kisses you again in disbelief. You hug him tightly, finding so much comfort in his arms. Whatever you've heard about vampires doesn't apply to Chan. He's radiating so much warmth you feel you could burn.

"Hold on tight," he warns and you grip the headboard top rail for dear life, as Chan makes sure to show you blood is not the only thing he's interested in drinking.

As he laps up your juices greedily, you find yourself on the verge of losing your sanity. Your hands give out and you let go of the bed's railings and opt for burying your fingers into his curls once more for support.

"Chris, please, please," you cry out, not even sure what you're begging for. For him to stop? For sweet release? It doesn't matter, as long as he stays with you.

Soon enough, your prayers are answered and you start seeing stars floating in the middle of the room.

"Did I kill you already?" he laughs upon seeing your reaction.

"Try harder," you tease him, even though you are already so gone.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Chris shrugs.

He takes off his jeans and stuffs your mouth full with his giant cock. You try to babble something but it's no use and your helplessness only turns him on more. You hug the back of his knees and let him fuck your throat as he pleases, even though you don't have much of a choice in the matter. Your vision is cloudy with tears and you can't even ask for mercy as his cum starts flooding your mouth. If you thought him drinking your blood was overwhelming, this is on a whole 'nother level of dizzying.

Once he's done using and abusing your throat, he pulls his cock out, smirking at you from above.

"You okay, sweetheart? Still alive?"

"Y-yes, d-daddy," you manage to croak out weakly.

Chris shakes his head in amusement upon hearing the sudden title.

"Then, I guess Daddy's gonna have to give ya a rough ride so you'll forget your own name, huh? How does that sound?"

"More, please," you plead desperately and he makes good on his promise.

He enters you without another warning and you can't keep your screams inside.

"G-god, y-yes," you moan.

"God isn't in this room, darling," Chris cackles maniacally. "The devil, however…"

You kiss him again because he's talking so much your brain can't keep up.

"S-so b-big," you cry.

"Yeah? Too big for my little girl?" he teases you.

"N-no. P-perfect. You're perfect," you insist stubbornly.

Chris fucks into you with supernatural stamina and you are grateful for that because even though you want to, you aren't able of keeping pace with him. Instead, you are happy to just hold onto him and focusing all your energy into…well, not passing out. You're so wet for him that his enormous size slides in and out easily, satisfying both of you with the intensity of the feeling. At last, you cum together, overwhelmed by the passion and affection you feel for each other.

He collapses on top of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. You welcome his weight like he's a giant blanket, comforting you.

"Don't wanna let go of you," Chan murmurs cutely.

You stroke his hair once more with a gentle touch. How is this man who has so many more years of experience still such a cute boy, desperate for tenderness?

"Then, don't. I'm all yours to keep," you chuckle weakly.

"That wouldn't be very productive to our academic future," Chan complains.

"It's okay. I feel like we've both earned a little break," you point out.

"From university? Sure. But when it comes to us two…I need no break. No brakes."

"Nicely said," you giggle, ready for another round on this train that never sleeps.

The End

[genderqueerdykes]

How do you find out if you’re intersex? I have terrible periods, was diagnosed with PCOS and put on estrogen and some other birth control before I went on T, and found out during my first gyno check that I just….dont have a canal? Which explains a lot because bedroom activities were so excruciating that I avoid them but my doctor won’t diagnose anything?

This is my regular doctor. I have a heart condition so I see him often enough. But he just won’t talk about it? Am I losing it? It can’t be normal.

you were diagnosed with PCOS and you don't have a vaginal canal. you're intersex! you don't need to find any other additional information or do any tests, those are both intersex variations! if you'd like to learn more, you're definitely welcome to research those conditions, or reach out to other intersex people to discuss your situations!

most people don't really find out they're intersex in a formal manner, it's generally when someone learns about the intersex community that they realize it. very few people are diagnosed or medically referred to as intersex, most of us are out here with intersex variations, still forced into M or F markers.

this is actually very normal- but that means you're not alone and you're not losing it though- more often than not, you are not going to get told you're intersex in that wording by a medical professional. especially in medical settings. even OBGYNs and other reproductive health doctors will not use the "I" word. most people find out they're intersex due to the variations and conditions they're diagnosed with, not the "I" word.

you're intersex, you don't need to get that confimation from your doctor because it's more than likely not going to happen. most doctors really are not on the intersex person's side. when i was diagnosed with PCOS, hyperandrogenism and other issues as a teen, i was forced onto estrogen like you were. i was never told i was intersex, though. the only thing they told me was that i was more than likely sterile. they were more concerned about telling a teenager that they couldn't have children than telling me what being intersex was. they likely didn't even know the word or what it means. i don't think most medical professionals have even heard of intersexuality.

most doctors see intersexuality as a series of health conditions that are a "problem to fix" and not a state of being that a person can exist in naturally without needing to be modified.

i hope that helps! you're intersex :) feel free to ask any more questions you have, i'm definitely glad to help! take care for now!