#i feel bad because even in real life someone will be like

[thestrangestthing89]

And I feel like this needs to be said...Redeeming a fictional character does not set a standard for redeeming people in real life who have done the same thing. If you find a fictional character redeemable after they have done something horrible, you are not a horrible person. You are following the story. It has nothing to do with your own personal morals. And it doesn't mean that if someone did that in real life your response must be the same. One person is real and one is fictional. Your response does not have to be the same. There are so many comments in fandoms and in book reviews were people are horrified that the audience likes a bad guy or is interested in the darker storyline. There are always comments like "If someone did this in real life wouldn't you be horrified!! You're a hypocrite!!!" Nope. One is real and one is fiction.

Moral purity has gone so far that people can't even allow for a fictional story where someone did something bad to play out in an interesting way because they can't figure out it's not teaching the audience a lesson about responding to people in real life. Writers are assuming you are smart enough to tell it's a character arc not a psa. If someone likes the villain in a story it doesn't mean they help bad guys in real life or that they are one. If someone is interested in the character arc of a fictional character who did something abhorrent, that doesn't mean they are looking for their own redemption. It very likely has nothing to do with them or their own morals at all. It's simply a story. Enjoying a darker story doesn't make you a bad guy or morally impure. It's fiction. So many people can't deal with a redemption arc because they think it will ruin their morally superior aesthetic they have been cultivating. Relax. Learn to enjoy fiction.

Invalid reasons for why a character should not be redeemed:

They’re too evil! - Redemption has nothing to do with how good or evil you were to begin with.

They don’t deserve it! - Redemption is not something that can be “deserved.”

Their actions are unforgivable! - Redemption has nothing to do with forgiveness.

It’s too late for them to change! - It is only “too late” to choose redemption when a character is dead (unless the scope of the story includes an afterlife in which change is possible).

Valid reasons for why a character should not be redeemed:

It doesn’t fit the themes of the story.

They’re not an important enough character for showing the process of a redemption arc to be worthwhile.

They’re more interesting as a character who isn’t doing the right thing.

It’s more satisfying to let them keep being evil.

It makes it more satisfying when they die.

There’s probably more, but you get the idea.

Remember, redemption is when someone realizes they are wrong, and takes steps to doing the right thing. That is not something that can be “deserved,” it is not something that hinges on forgiveness, and it is not something that it is ever too late for! …Unless the person is dead or something.

[spilledssojuu]

Double Booking (Part 1)

Aespa Ningning ft. Karina & Giselle

Words: 6.5k

Ningning had it all—money, fame, beauty, and nearly four million followers hanging on her every move. She could buy anything, go anywhere, and get nearly anyone she wanted.

Except the one thing she needed.

She was horny. Not the cute, flirty kind that faded with a good night's sleep, but the kind that burned slow and deep, like a fever under the skin. It had been too long. Far too long. Months without a real touch, without someone strong enough to put her in her place. The men she dated were all the same—soft, eager, selfish, or just plain clueless. They wanted to have her, but they never knew how.

She needed a man. Not a boy, not a pretty face with a trust fund and no backbone. A man who knew how to handle a woman like her. Someone with presence, skill, and discipline.

Someone who could fuck her like he meant it.

But she couldn’t exactly go tweeting that. So she confided in her closest friends—Karina and Giselle, the only two people who knew what was really going on behind her curated, sparkly social media life.

They were lounging at Karina’s place, the three of them in silk robes with wine in hand, when Ningning brought it up.

“Do you two ever get, like… painfully horny?” she asked, blunt and bored, tracing circles on her wine glass.

Karina raised a brow. “Uh, yeah. Like every other night. Why?”

“Because I’m losing my mind,” Ningning confessed. “I haven’t been touched in six months. Six. Months. I can’t even sleep anymore without thinking about someone bending me over a balcony.”

Giselle snorted into her drink. “Damn. Not even a sneaky situationship?”

“They all suck. Literally. No skill, no stamina. Just bad head and worse dick.”

Karina laughed. “You’re ruthless.”

“I’m desperate.” Ningning sighed. “I want someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who doesn’t ask, ‘Is this okay?’ every two seconds. Someone who can take me.”

The room went quiet for a moment—until Giselle smirked.

“You know… you should meet Woohyun.”

Ningning blinked. “Woohyun?”

Karina leaned back. “Yeah. He’s the guy we’re filming with next week. Adult actor. But he’s not like the sleazy ones. He’s clean, professional, almost too respectful. But he’s got presence. And control. When he turns it on… damn.”

Giselle added, “He doesn’t flirt on set. Doesn’t mess around. But there’s something about him. He knows what women want. You can see it in his eyes.”

Ningning leaned in, intrigued. “Is he hot?”

“Hot isn’t even the word.” Karina said. “He’s sex on legs. Tall, quiet, intense. Like the kind of man who’ll ruin you in the best way possible, then make you breakfast.”

Ningning's thighs pressed together.

“I want him.”

Giselle laughed. “You haven’t even met him yet.”

“I don’t care. If he’s as good as you say, I need him. I want to feel again. I want someone who’ll throw me against a wall and make me forget my name.”

Karina tilted her head, suddenly thoughtful. “Well… the penthouse we’re staying at next week for filming—there’s a weird double-booking. You could stay with us.”

Ningning's eyes lit up. “Is he staying there?”

“Supposedly.” Giselle said, sipping her wine with a grin. “It’s just us and him. And a really big bathtub.”

“You did this on purpose.” Ningning smirked.

Karina winked. “Maybe. Or maybe we just thought you needed a little push.”

That night, Ningning packed her suitcase like she was preparing for war. Lace, silk, and heels. Lipsticks that left marks and perfume that lingered. She imagined running into him in the hallway, catching him shirtless in the kitchen, brushing past him in nothing but a towel.

She wouldn’t jump him. She didn’t want easy. She wanted a slow burn. She wanted the tension, the eye contact, the teasing. She wanted to watch his control snap.

And when it did?

She wanted him to fuck her like he’d been holding back for years.

This wasn’t just a vacation anymore.

This was her hunt.

And Woohyun was the prize.

Woohyun didn’t smile when he walked into the studio. He never did.

Dressed in all black, sleeves rolled to the elbows, his forearms were corded with lean muscle. His jaw was sharp, clean-shaven. Eyes dark and unreadable. He looked like he belonged on a runway, not a film set—but his reputation spoke louder than looks.

Woohyun was known for one thing: control.

Karina was already waiting, legs crossed, sipping iced coffee in a thin silk robe that clung to her skin. It slipped open just enough to show the swell of her breasts, barely hidden by sheer black lace. She watched him with a lazy, hungry grin.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.” she purred.

Across the room, Giselle smirked from behind a water bottle. Her robe was untied, draped loosely over a tight red thong and matching bra. “Mr. Cold and Composed.”

Woohyun dropped his bag at the couch without looking at them. “I’m here to work.”

“You’re no fun.” Karina teased, standing slowly and stretching her arms overhead. The motion pulled her robe higher, revealing smooth thighs and the top of her lace stockings. “Don’t you ever just… give in?”

“Not unless the scene calls for it.” he said flatly.

“Oh.” Giselle said, standing and walking up behind him, her voice a soft whisper in his ear. “And today… it does.”

The first scene was with her.

Set in a dim apartment with shadows flickering across the walls, the energy was already heavy before the cameras rolled.

Giselle wore nothing but a see-through white shirt, her skin glowing under the low lights. No bra. No shame. She stormed into the room, eyes blazing.

“You think you can just ghost me?” she demanded. “After everything we did?”

Woohyun stepped into frame, slow and deliberate. “I didn’t ghost you.”

“Then why’d you disappear?”

He said nothing, only walked forward, closing the door behind her. His eyes drank her in slowly—legs, curves, the hardened peaks of her nipples under the thin fabric.

He reached out and took her by the wrist. She gasped at the sudden contact.

“I was trying not to want you.” he said, his voice low.

“Then stop pretending.” she whispered.

She leaned in. Their mouths met in a collision of heat and need. Woohyun’s hand slid up her thigh, gripping her ass, pulling her flush against his body. Her moan escaped instantly—soft, breathy, needy.

“Mmm—fuuuck…”

He backed her into the wall, hands everywhere—her waist, her chest, sliding up under her shirt until his fingers brushed against bare skin. Her head tipped back, hips rolling against him.

“Yes…yes…”

He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. She ground against his hardness, lips clinging to his as her moans got louder.

“Ahh—don’t stop… fuck, don’t stop…”

He didn’t. He moved with quiet dominance, his strength holding her exactly where he wanted her, his mouth devouring every sound she made.

“Cut!”

Giselle collapsed against him, breathless. Her skin was flushed, lips parted.

“Holy shit.” she murmured. “You were into that.”

He didn’t answer. Just walked away, shoulders rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.

Karina’s scene followed.

She stepped onto set in thigh-high black heels and a corset tight enough to make her breath shallow. Her eyes were cold and commanding, lips painted blood red.

She circled him slowly like a predator, fingers dragging over his chest. “Still playing the gentleman?”

He didn’t blink. “I can be anything the scene needs.”

“Then kneel.”

He dropped without hesitation. The click of her heel between his knees echoed through the set.

Karina climbed onto his lap, her hips grinding down onto him with slow pressure. He gripped her by the waist and controlled her movements—up, down, back, deeper. Her breath caught. Her moan was real.

“Ohh… fuck, Woohyun…”

His fingers tightened, guiding her rhythm with brutal precision. Her head fell forward, forehead resting against his.

“You’re… so fucking intense,” she panted.

“You’re shaking.” he whispered.

She bit her lip, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

“God, I can’t take it when you look at me like that—like you’re holding back…”

“I am.” he said simply.

“Cut!”

Karina slumped onto his chest, panting. Her thighs trembled.

She laughed breathlessly. “You’re a damn machine.”

Giselle walked over, arms crossed. “Still think you can keep this ‘professional’ forever?”

He stood, wiped sweat from his jaw. “I’m not here to fall for anyone.”

Karina raised a brow. “Even if she’s got the body of a goddess… and wants to be ruined?”

Woohyun said nothing.

As the shoot wrapped, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the penthouse the studio booked him for the week.

Only when he opened the door did he realize something was wrong.

The lights were already on. A pair of high heels sat neatly near the entry. A silk robe—pink, expensive, lacy—lay draped across the couch.

Then he smelled it. Warm vanilla and jasmine. Feminine. Seductive.

The sound of splashing water echoed faintly from down the hall… followed by a low, drawn-out moan.

“Mmh…”

His jaw tightened. He stepped slowly forward, bag forgotten on the floor.

He reached the hallway just as another soft sound floated from the bathroom.

“Ahh… yes…”

The voice was light. Teasing. Familiar.

Someone was in his penthouse. Someone who wanted him to find her like this.

And by the sound of it, she was already touching herself… thinking about him.

The scent hit him first.

Warm vanilla with a hint of jasmine, soft and sensual—completely out of place in a penthouse he thought he had to himself. Woohyun stepped inside and dropped his duffel by the door, already on alert.

Then he saw it.

A trail of clothes. High heels. A silk robe. Lacy black panties lying shamelessly on the floor like breadcrumbs leading him to the wolf’s mouth.

And then he heard her.

“Ahh… mmmh…”

A moan.

Soft. Drawn out. Way too deliberate.

He followed the sound, each step slow and controlled, though his pulse betrayed him. At the end of the hall, the bathroom door glowed with steam and golden light. Partially open.

He pushed it.

Inside, the bathroom looked like a sensual dream—candles lit on the marble counter, the massive tub full of frothy water, rose petals floating lazily.

And her.

Ningning was stretched out in the water, one leg over the edge, toes pointed, the other knee just above the surface. She didn’t flinch at his presence.

She posed for it.

Her lips parted in a pleased little smile. “Took you long enough.” she purred.

Woohyun stayed silent. Observing. Sharp. Still.

Ningning rose from the water slowly, deliberately, letting it cascade down her bare skin. Her breasts rose above the surface, nipples tight from heat and tension, glistening under the candlelight. She pushed her wet hair back from her face and made no move to cover herself.

She was glowing.

“Surprised?” she asked, stepping out of the tub like it was a private stage. “Your co-stars mentioned a booking mix-up.”

He blinked once. “They set this up.”

“Mmm… they did.” she said, walking right past him, completely nude, completely in control. Her arm brushed his chest. “I might’ve asked for a favor.”

She stopped just in front of him. Water dripped from her thighs onto the floor.

“You’re… taller than I thought.” she said, looking up at him, eyes dark with mischief. “And more tense. You always this stiff around naked women?”

“I’m not here to—”

“—fuck me?” she interrupted, smirking. “Not yet.”

She turned around and walked slowly toward the bedroom, hips swaying like a promise. At the doorway, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“You coming?” she asked, voice feather-soft but soaked in temptation.

He didn’t move.

So she licked her lips and added, “I moaned for you earlier, you know. Thinking about your mouth. Your hands. That voice”

She let out another soft moan, deliberately louder this time.

“Mmm, Woohyun…”

He stiffened.

Ningning smiled.

“I’ve been so good for too long.” she whispered. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to be ruined.”

He clenched his jaw.

She turned fully toward him now, backlit by bedroom lights, her curves perfect and glistening.

“Don’t worry.” she said sweetly. “I won’t bite…”

Then she leaned one hand against the doorway and whispered with a wicked grin—

“Unless you beg me to.”

And with that, she vanished into the bedroom, the sound of her footsteps soft against the carpet, her scent lingering behind.

Woohyun stood there alone for a long moment.

Every part of him screamed to stay still, to keep control.

But every part of him below the waist had already decided:

He was going to break.

The bedroom was warm.

Not just from the candles she’d lit, or the soft ambient lighting overhead—but from her. Ningning was lying across the center of the massive bed, legs crossed at the ankles, still completely bare, her skin glowing in golden tones, every inch of her shamelessly on display.

One arm propped her up. The other toyed lazily with a wine glass she hadn’t touched.

She smiled when she saw him standing at the doorway.

“I was wondering if you’d grow the balls to walk in.”

Woohyun said nothing, but his presence filled the room. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and now there was no escape.

“Still trying to be the professional?” she asked, tilting her head. “You’ve been eye-fucking me since the tub.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

“Oh, I know exactly.” she said, biting her lip. “You’re like this... perfectly wrapped gift. All cold restraint on the outside—” she traced her finger along the curve of her own thigh, “—but I bet you’re all fire underneath.”

She spread her legs slightly, slow and unhurried. “Why don’t you come unwrap it?”

He took one step forward. Then another. Silent. Deadly.

She leaned back onto her elbows, heart hammering in her chest. “You look like you’re about to either walk away or pin me down.”

“I’m deciding.” he said flatly.

That made her laugh—low and soft.

“Here.” she whispered, crooking a finger, “let me help you choose.”

He reached the edge of the bed.

She rose up onto her knees in front of him, her body sliding against his clothed form. Her hands went straight to his belt, nimble fingers working while her eyes stayed locked on his.

“Still want to act like you’re not dying to touch me?” she breathed. “Because you’re hard.”

He grabbed her wrists.

Not rough—but firm. Commanding.

Their faces were inches apart. Her breath hitched. Then—

“Say please.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Heat flared in her cheeks.

“…What?”

“You want my hands on you?” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Say please.”

She stared into his eyes. A challenge and an invitation.

So she smiled slowly.

“Please.” she whispered, letting it drip from her lips like honey. “Touch me. Make me scream. Make me forget every man who’s ever bored me to death.”

His eyes darkened.

He shoved her gently back onto the bed.

Ningning gasped, breath catching as he climbed over her. Fully clothed, body hard, frame powerful over her exposed skin.

He didn’t kiss her. Not yet.

His hands traced the lines of her waist, the dip of her stomach, the swell of her hips. Slow. Torturous.

She arched into him.

“Mmh… Woohyun…”

“Louder.” he murmured against her throat, not kissing, just grazing.

She moaned, long and soft.

“W—Woohyun…”

He dragged his mouth lower, tongue teasing the underside of her breast, then sucked—hard—right below it.

She gasped.

“Oh fuck—”

His hands slid under her thighs, spreading her wider, making her feel how caged she was beneath him. Still clothed, still composed—and she was already unraveling.

“You said you wanted to be ruined.” he whispered.

She nodded, trembling.

“Then let me.”

He kissed her, finally—crushing, hungry, devouring. She moaned into his mouth, fingers digging into his shirt, pulling, clawing. Her hips rolled against him, desperate.

He broke the kiss with a deep breath, forehead pressed to hers.

“You’re not ready,” he said.

“I am—fuck, I am—”

He smirked, brushing his lips across hers again, feather-light. “No.”

Then he stood up and walked away.

She stared at him, stunned. Panting. Aching.

“W-What the fuck—”

He glanced over his shoulder, jaw tight, eyes on fire.

“When I take you.” he said, voice like thunder, “it won’t be in a rush. It won’t be because you begged.”

He paused at the doorway.

“It’ll be when I know you can’t take it anymore.”

And then he was gone.

Leaving Ningning on the bed, body hot, lips swollen, thighs trembling—and more desperate than she had ever been in her life.

The sun crept through the penthouse windows, spilling soft gold across white sheets, tangled legs, and a heat that hadn't cooled from the night before.

Ningning lay alone in bed, the empty space beside her mocking her frustration. Her thighs still tingled. Her lips were still swollen. Her body still ached from being denied.

She groaned softly, fingers pressing between her thighs, trying to ease the need, but it only made it worse.

“Fucking hell…” she whispered, tossing off the covers.

She didn’t want relief.

She wanted him.

Sliding out of bed, she stalked into the walk-in closet and pulled out a black lace set—thin as smoke, sinful as sin. A barely-there thong, matching bra, and a silk robe she didn’t bother to tie. Her nipples peaked under the fabric, the lace doing nothing to hide how needy she was.

Her eyes found her reflection.

“Let’s see you try to walk away this time.” she muttered, smirking.

She heard him in the kitchen—his deep voice humming low, the sound of a spoon stirring coffee, of control reasserting itself.

Not for long.

She padded across the marble floor in bare feet, her robe trailing open just enough to tease.

“Morning.” she purred.

Woohyun turned.

His eyes dropped immediately. His grip on the coffee mug visibly tightened.

Black lace. Exposed skin. That goddamn smirk.

“Is this how you normally dress for breakfast?” he asked flatly, eyes flicking up to hers.

She tilted her head. “Depends who’s watching.”

She leaned back against the counter beside him, hip cocked, robe slipping more open. She made no move to fix it.

“I had dreams about your mouth.” she whispered. “Woke up soaking.”

He sipped his coffee, slow. Silent.

So she closed the space between them and pressed against him, her chest brushing his arm.

“I need you to ruin me.” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t want sweet. I want your fingers on my throat, your teeth on my skin, your cock so deep I forget my own name.”

He didn’t speak—but his hand shot out and grabbed her waist, slamming her back against the counter. Her gasp came sharp, breath stolen from her lungs.

His face was inches from hers now. His voice low.

“You think I don’t want you?”

She nodded quickly, chest heaving.

“You think I haven’t imagined bending you over every surface in this place?”

“Then fucking do it.” she moaned. “Please, please—”

He crashed his mouth onto hers.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claiming.

Her moan spilled into him, hands clawing at his shirt, his belt—desperate, messy. He shoved the robe from her shoulders and it hit the floor with a soft whisper. The cold marble against her bare ass made her squirm.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her body. Lace soaked, clinging to her folds, nipples brushing the air.

“You’re filthy.” he growled.

She smiled breathlessly. “Then fuck me like I am.”

His hand wrapped around her throat, not tight—just enough to remind her who was in charge.

“You don’t get to tell me when.” he said. “You get to beg.”

“I’m begging.” she gasped. “Please, Woohyun… please…”

She reached down and guided his hand between her thighs. Her breath hitched when his fingers brushed her through the soaked lace.

“Dripping.” he muttered. “So fucking ready.”

He tore the panties aside.

She cried out—loud, filthy, high-pitched.

“Aah—fuck! Woohyun!”

He slid two fingers into her without warning.

Her head fell back, back arching, thighs trembling.

“Mmh—yes! Yes—oh my!”

“Keep moaning.” he growled, curling his fingers. “I want everyone in this building to know who’s making you scream.”

His fingers thrust deep.

Ningning’s moans filled the kitchen, echoing off marble and glass, so filthy, so real, she barely recognized her own voice.

“Ahh—fuck—yes, yes—!”

Woohyun watched her unravel beneath him, eyes locked on her soaked lace pulled aside, his fingers moving inside her with expert rhythm. He curled them just right—and her knees buckled.

“Oh my—fuck!”

Her hands scrambled for something to hold onto. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, pushing her thighs wide apart.

She gasped at the sudden cold of the marble on her bare ass, back arching.

“Look at you.” he muttered. “Dripping all over my hand.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, deliberately, then slid them into his mouth. Sucked.

Ningning whined, watching it, her thighs trembling.

“Please,” she begged, voice shaking. “Don’t stop now—fuck, I need you.”

He unbuckled his belt. Her eyes followed every movement like prey.

She reached for his cock, pulled it free, and moaned loudly when it slapped against his stomach, thick, heavy, hard.

“God, you’re perfect.” she gasped, wrapping her fingers around the base. “Let me taste—”

“No.”

He shoved her back gently onto the counter, guiding her legs over his shoulders. Her back hit the cold surface, and then—

His mouth.

“Ah—ahh, fuck!”

His tongue was hot, wet, relentless. He buried his face in her, licking long and deep, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her in place.

She cried out, hands flying to his hair.

“Woohyun—your tongue—ahh, right there! Don’t stop!”

He growled into her, the vibration sending shockwaves through her core. His tongue flicked hard over her clit—fast, dirty, possessive.

She was losing control.

“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—ahhh!”

Her entire body snapped. She came with a scream, thighs clamping around his head, back arched off the counter.

“FUCK! Woohyun!”

He didn’t stop.

He kept going, licking her through every pulse, every tremor, until she was a sobbing mess under his mouth.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were soaked.

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared down at her ruined body.

“Now.” he said, voice rough, thick with hunger, “you’re ready.”

She nodded, dizzy, dazed, eyes wild.

He lined up his cock and pressed in slow—too slow.

“Ahh—fuck—you’re so—big,” she whimpered.

He filled her, inch by thick inch, until she was stuffed full, moaning beneath him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs locked around his waist.

“Move, please—!”

He slammed into her.

Once. Deep. Brutal.

She screamed.

“Ahhh—yes! Just like that—harder!”

He set a rhythm—deep, punishing thrusts that hit every spot, the counter beneath her shaking, her breasts bouncing with every snap of his hips.

Their skin slapped loud and wet, moans mixing with curses and gasps.

“Look at you.” he panted, grabbing her chin. “Begging to be ruined.”

“I love it.” she cried. “I love your cock—don’t stop, don’t stop!”

He drove into her harder. Faster. Her moans turned into broken, breathless cries.

“W-Woohyun—I’m—again—fuck, I’m cumming again!”

“Then cum.” he growled, fucking her through it. “Make a mess. I want to feel you soak me.”

She did.

She shattered under him, screaming his name, body convulsing, nails dragging down his back.

And only then—only then—did he finally let go.

He groaned loud, deep, thrusting once, twice, then holding deep inside her as he came hard.

They collapsed together, panting, sweaty, clinging.

The kitchen reeked of sex. Her thighs were trembling. His breath was ragged in her ear.

And Ningning—fucked out and still grinning—whispered, “You’re not done with me.”

The bedroom was dim now, lights low, the sheets a twisted mess around two bodies that hadn’t stopped touching since the kitchen.

Ningning lay straddling him, her chest pressed to Woohyun’s, still flushed and soaked. Her skin glowed with sweat, her hair wild, her thighs sore and slick from being filled over and over.

He lay beneath her, half-hard again, his hands lazily gripping her hips.

“Still not done with me?” he murmured.

She smirked and sat up, brushing her hair back, bare and unbothered.

“I told you.” she whispered, “I’ve been waiting months to get wrecked like this.”

She reached for her phone on the nightstand.

Woohyun raised a brow. “What’re you doing?”

Ningning just smirked as she opened FaceTime and tapped the name Karina. “Finishing what they started.”

It rang once.

Twice.

Then—

Connected.

Karina’s face filled the screen, brows raised, lounging in what looked like Giselle’s living room.

“Ningning? What the hell—”

But then she saw her.

And him.

Ningning, naked, flushed, riding a very recognizable man beneath her. Woohyun’s hand gripped her hip just as her other hand wrapped around his hardening cock again.

“Oh my—what the fuck?!”

Ningning grinned wide. “Surprise.”

Giselle’s voice piped in from behind the screen. “Wait—no way—that’s Woohyun?! Our Woohyun?!”

Karina covered her mouth. “You’re actually—oh my God. Ningning.”

Ningning leaned forward, giving them a full view of her breasts bouncing as she moved her hips.

“Mmh… don’t look away.” she moaned, locking eyes with the screen. “You wanted me to meet him, didn’t you?”

Woohyun groaned beneath her, eyes fluttering shut as she guided his cock inside her again, slowly, teasing.

“Fuck—you’re insane.” he muttered, breath hitching.

“Am I?” she whispered, riding him shallow, hips rolling. “Or do you like being watched?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

On screen, Karina looked stunned. And silent. Watching.

Giselle was biting her lip, whispering, “Holy shit…”

Ningning moaned loudly, tossing her head back as she sank down hard onto him.

“Ahhh—fuck! Just like that, Woohyun!”

The sound of skin slapping echoed through the call. Wet. Sinful.

Karina’s voice cracked. “You’re really—right now—while we’re watching—”

“Say hi.” Ningning gasped, looking into the camera, hips bouncing faster now. “Tell them how good I feel.”

Woohyun grabbed her ass with both hands, fucking up into her.

“Fucking perfect.” he growled. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever been inside.”

“God, yes—yes—harder!”

Giselle’s voice came out in a breathy whisper. “She’s so loud…”

Ningning turned the phone slightly, making sure both girls had a full view of where Woohyun disappeared inside her—slick, raw, dripping.

“You like this?” she panted. “This is what he does to me. This is what you’ve been keeping to yourselves.”

Karina was breathing fast now. She didn’t answer.

Ningning grabbed her own breast, squeezing it, moaning again.

“Mmh—he made me cum five times already…”

Woohyun flipped her suddenly, slamming her back into the bed, taking control again.

Karina yelped on the call.

Ningning screamed as he rammed into her, hard, rough, making the phone shake in her hand.

“YES! YES—oh fuck, keep going!”

Woohyun leaned down, whispering in her ear, loud enough for the call to hear.

“You want them to see me break you? Want your friends to hear you beg?”

“Yes!” she sobbed. “Let them hear how good your cock is—ahhh—fuck!”

He thrust faster.

Ningning held the phone up blindly, eyes rolling back, moaning into the screen like she was putting on a performance.

Karina’s voice cracked. “Ning… I’m—”

Giselle’s breath hitched. “I can’t believe I’m wet from this.”

Ningning smirked through her moans. “Next time.” she gasped, “you can join.”

And then she came hard, body convulsing, screaming his name, the phone slipping from her hand onto the sheets, still connected.

Woohyun didn’t stop.

He chased his own finish, hips pounding, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her throat just tight enough—

And then he spilled deep inside her with a loud, broken moan.

Silence. Just panting. Sweat. The smell of sex in the air.

The call was still on.

Karina whispered, stunned: “You’re evil.”

Ningning grinned, voice hoarse, wrecked, proud.

“I warned you I’d seduce him.”

The room was humid with heat and sex. Sheets half off the bed, the smell of sweat and climax hanging in the air. Woohyun lay back against the pillows, chest rising slowly, but his cock was already hard again—throbbing, slick from being inside Ningning over and over.

And Ningning?

She wasn’t done.

Still naked, flushed, sore and soaked, she straddled his hips again, grinding slowly along his length, teasing herself with the tip. Her body trembled from the overstimulation, but her hunger burned hotter than ever.

Just then—ding. The elevator.

Knock knock.

“Room service.” came a soft female voice, polite, professional.

Woohyun sat up slightly. “Did you—”

Ningning just smiled. “I may have… forgotten to cancel breakfast.”

Before he could say anything else, the door to the suite opened—and in walked a young hotel staff member in uniform, carrying a silver tray.

She looked up.

Then froze.

Her eyes went wide as she took in the scene—Ningning’s bare back, riding a naked man on the bed, her body glistening, her hips rolling, the air thick with wet, lewd sounds.

“Oh my—I’m so sorry—!”

Ningning turned her head, not startled—smiling.

“Don’t run.” she purred.

The girl stammered, trying to back away, but in a moment of impulsive boldness, Ningning slid off Woohyun, walked across the room completely nude—and grabbed the girl’s hand.

“I said don’t run.” she repeated, firmer.

The girl trembled under her touch. “I—I shouldn’t be here—this is—”

But Ningning stepped closer, bare chest brushing her uniform, her voice dropping into a whisper.

“You already saw. Now you’re in it.”

The girl blinked, lips parted, breathing shallow.

“I-I…”

Ningning glanced back at Woohyun—he was watching, his cock throbbing.

She turned again and climbed back onto the bed, reaching for the girl’s hand.

“Come here.” she said softly. “Help me.”

She didn’t resist.

The girl stepped closer, and Ningning pulled her in, guiding her to stand by the edge of the bed. Then, with a wicked smirk, she turned her body—back to Woohyun—and placed her hands on the staff girl’s waist.

“I need support.” she whispered, voice trembling with arousal.

And just like that, she bent forward—resting her upper body against the girl’s front, her bare breasts pressing against the uniform, her hands clutching her hips for balance.

“Hold still.” she whispered, then moaned, loud and shameless, “FUCK—Woohyun, give it to me.”

He didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed her hips and slammed into her from behind, hard and deep.

“Ahh—fuck yes!”

Ningning cried out, her moans muffled into the girl’s chest. The girl gasped, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, not sure what to do, but frozen in place as Ningning clung to her—grinding, panting, taking every thrust with raw desperation.

“Ah—harder! Right there! I’m gonna—”

Woohyun grabbed her ass, thrusting brutally, the sound of wet skin on skin bouncing off the walls.

The girl whimpered, her hands finally coming down to gently rest on Ningning’s back—barely touching, but undeniably there.

“You feel her?” Ningning moaned, voice thick and ruined. “You feel my body shaking against you? It’s because he’s fucking me so good.”

Woohyun groaned, fucking her faster now, watching the way her body slammed into the girl’s—soft breasts pressed against Ningning’s moaning lips, her thighs visibly trembling.

“Tell her.” Ningning gasped, turning her head to look up at the girl, “Tell her how deep you are.”

“Balls-deep.” he growled, pounding harder. “She’s gripping me like a fucking vice.”

“Ahhh—yes—yes—don’t stop!”

The girl didn’t move, didn’t speak—but her thighs squeezed together, her breathing shaky, and her eyes locked on where Woohyun disappeared inside Ningning, again and again.

Ningning was unraveling—moaning into her, holding onto her, sweat sticking their bodies together.

“I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna cum—fuck—”

She screamed, body trembling violently, riding out her climax with her face buried in the staff girl’s chest, her arms clinging tight.

Woohyun groaned loud behind her, then thrust hard and deep—once, twice—and came inside her with a broken, guttural moan.

Silence.

Heavy breathing.

Ningning slowly pulled back, glancing up at the girl, who was flushed to the ears, her uniform damp where Ningning had pressed against her.

“Thank you.” she whispered, brushing her lips against the girl’s cheek. “You were a perfect support.”

The girl blinked. “I… should go.”

But she didn’t move.

The room was quiet again—except for the heavy, labored breaths of three people who had just crossed a line they could never uncross.

Ningning rolled onto her side, still glowing, still dripping with Woohyun’s cum. She licked her lips and looked up at the girl still standing beside the bed.

The hotel staff member was shaking. Her fingers trembled at her sides. Her legs pressed together, thighs tight. Her eyes darted between Ningning’s wrecked body… and Woohyun, still hard, glistening, sitting up against the headboard, looking at her like he already knew what she needed.

“Don’t go.” Ningning whispered, reaching up and brushing the back of her hand along the girl’s thigh. “You’re soaking through your skirt.”

“I… I can’t…” the girl whispered, voice nearly broken.

Ningning sat up and gently unbuttoned the girl’s vest, fingers slow, teasing. “You want to.”

The girl swallowed hard.

Woohyun just watched, silent, letting Ningning guide her like a flame pulling in a moth.

“I’ve never…” the girl whispered, her voice trembling as Ningning slipped the uniform vest off her shoulders.

“That’s okay.” Ningning said, kissing her belly through the blouse. “He’s good. He’ll ruin you soft.”

The girl’s breath hitched.

Then, without a word, she stepped out of her shoes. Then her skirt. Then her blouse.

Standing in front of them in nothing but lace panties and a bra, she looked like she wanted to run—but her body betrayed her.

She was soaked.

Woohyun’s cock twitched again.

“Come here.” he said gently.

Ningning guided her onto the bed, onto all fours, facing him.

She was crawling toward him like prey, panting, pupils blown wide. When she reached him, she paused, kneeling between his legs, inches from his glistening length.

Ningning whispered behind her, now curled up and watching, her legs spread lazily. “Taste him.”

The girl leaned down slowly, lips brushing the tip—and then she opened her mouth, took him in, and moaned. Her tongue swirled, hesitant at first, then bolder, her hands gripping his thighs.

Woohyun groaned. “Shit… slow down…”

But she didn’t.

She sucked him deeper, eager, drooling, her hips shifting like she needed friction. She was moaning against him, soft at first, then louder. Her lips glossy. Her movements sloppy.

“You’re a natural.” Ningning purred, touching herself now, fingers sliding through the mess between her legs. “You want to feel him inside you, don’t you?”

The girl whimpered around his cock.

Woohyun couldn’t take it anymore. He gently pulled her up by the chin, thumb brushing her wet lips.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low.

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I want you.” she whispered. “Please. I need to feel it.”

He laid her down on the bed—gently, carefully—kissing down her neck, her chest, her stomach. When he pulled her panties aside, he groaned.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

She gasped as he teased her folds with the head of his cock.

“Relax.” he whispered.

Then he pushed inside.

She cried out—half moan, half gasp—as he slid in slow, deep, steady.

Her eyes fluttered. “Oh my God… oh my God…”

Woohyun kissed her neck, holding her close, whispering in her ear.

“You feel that? That stretch? That fullness?”

“Yes.” she gasped. “It’s so—ahhh—so big…”

He started to move, gentle at first, letting her adjust, letting her moan through it.

Ningning watched from the side, one leg draped over the other, touching herself slowly, a proud smirk on her face.

“Good girl.” she whispered.

“Faster.” the staff girl whimpered, nails digging into Woohyun’s back. “Please… fuck me harder…”

Woohyun groaned and gave her what she asked for—thrusting deeper, harder, faster, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.

“AH—yes—yes—oh fuck yes—!”

She was crying out, moaning with every thrust, her hips rising to meet his, her body clinging to him like she’d explode if he stopped.

Ningning moaned with her, fingers moving faster now, her other hand on her breast.

“Make her scream, Woohyun…”

He did.

He flipped the girl, pulled her hips up, and slammed into her from behind. Her scream echoed off the walls.

“FUCK—I’m—gonna—cum—!”

And then she did—her body locking up, legs shaking, head thrown back, voice raw and broken as she convulsed around him.

He followed seconds later, slamming deep, cursing under his breath as he came inside her, filling her just as he had Ningning.

When it was over, she collapsed on the bed between them—naked, sweating, panting.

Ningning reached over, brushing hair from her flushed face.

“Told you he’d ruin you soft.” she whispered with a kiss.

The room was still thick with the smell of sex, the sheets soaked, tangled between legs and limbs that had barely moved since the last climax. Ningning lay draped across Woohyun’s chest, trailing lazy fingers over his skin. The hotel staff girl was gone—long gone, leaving behind nothing but her scent on the air and a faint lipstick stain on a glass by the bed.

Woohyun closed his eyes, sinking into the blissful aftermath.

Then—ding.

The elevator.

Another knock.

Ningning barely turned her head. “This day just keeps giving.”

Woohyun sat up, a low groan rumbling in his throat. “Please tell me you didn’t order more room service.”

Ningning grinned. “Better.”

The door swung open before either of them could react—and in walked Karina and Giselle.

Both dressed in tight, black dresses. Both looking furious.

Karina’s eyes immediately locked onto Ningning’s bare ass draped across Woohyun’s lap. Her nostrils flared.

Giselle looked worse—like she was already imagining her hands around someone’s throat.

Ningning smirked. “You made good time.”

“Did you forget we saw everything?” Karina’s voice was low, controlled, trembling with restrained heat. “You let that girl touch him.”

“I let her do more than that.” Ningning replied, stretching lazily like a cat. “And you two just watched from a screen. Kind of sad.”

Giselle stepped forward, eyes burning. “You said he was off-limits until we wrapped the film. You promised, Ning.”

Ningning sat up, slow, graceful, her naked body a taunt all on its own.

“I lied.”

Karina’s jaw tightened. “You stole him.”

“No.” Ningning slid off the bed, bare feet hitting the floor, hips swaying as she walked past them. “I took him.”

Woohyun watched silently, tension rising like steam.

Giselle’s voice dropped low, dangerously low. “So that’s it? You seduce him, you fuck in front of us, and now you get to keep him?”

“I never said I’d keep him.” Ningning purred, turning back to face them. “But if you want a taste…”

She tilted her head, daring them.

“Prove you deserve it.”

Karina stepped forward, closing the distance. Her hand reached up, fingers brushing Woohyun’s chest.

“Do you still have room for two more?” she asked, voice sultry but edged with challenge.

Giselle stood beside her, hands on her hips, licking her lips. “Because we’re done waiting our turn.”

Woohyun looked between them—all three now staring at him with hunger in their eyes.

And he knew this was no longer about just sex.

This was war.

Ningning smirked. “Let the best bitch win.”

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

[cuteandhughesy]

‘I Knew They Didn’t Actually Hate Each Other!’ | Leon Draisaitl

summary: lauren and connor mcdavid have very different reactions when finding out their best friends don't actually hate one another.

[word count] 2.8k

warnings: kissing | swearing | mature dialogue

a/n: a requested follow up part to couldn’t make it any harder! this is short and sweet but i’m absolutely certain this is how these interactions would go down if this was real life situation. ENJOY MY LEON GIRLIES 🧡💙

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

lauren knew.

okay, well, no she didn't know. but your best friend had a good incline that you were seeing some one.

it started with the smaller details. there was always fresh flowers—beautiful, expensive ones at that—on your kitchen countertop, accompanied by one of those little card holders. the note is always missing, meaning that you've put it somewhere. to which lauren says, suspicious.

less movie nights at lauren's because 'you're swamped with work.' more like swamped with sex. and you're always smiling, even when everyone is out together.

which unless lauren is fucking crazy and is completely remembering the past 7 years or so incorrectly, that was totally unheard of—especially when leon draisital is in the vicinity.

and lauren's pretty sure that she saw a hickey on your boob when your tank top shifted during hot yoga two weeks ago.

the math was just mathing, okay!

it started after the wedding. where as lauren was hungover and still wearing what felt like a million pounds of makeup from the night before, you waltzed into the room with a glow and a smile on your fresh face.

she'd honestly brushed that incident off until everything else starting falling into place like the perfect puzzle—but then lauren got to thinking. did you meet someone that night?

lauren has spent the past two months racking her brain for answers—answers to a question she wasn't going to ask you yet, because obviously she was determined to figure it out on her own before all else.

it was like the damn bachelorette in her head as lauren mentally assessed every single guy she and connor had at their wedding—trying to pinpoint which ones would capture her best friends attention enough for it to stick.

but no matter how many times lauren tried to work it all out, she came up short for answers.

you and this secret relationship are a mystery to her.

so it was this random september afternoon that lauren mcdavid decided she was going to get her answers—hold you down and physically pull them from your tongue if she has to. because your best friend is sick of being in the dark, especially when she knows….something is going on.

she can feel it in her damn gut.

so with an extra tight ponytail and her purse swinging loosely at her side, lauren knocks on your apartment door—so loud and aggressively that she almost scares herself. it's rather comical in the way she jerks her hand away from the wood at the sound.

she knows your home. wednesday's are your half days, meaning you only work in the morning. this time of year, just before the hockey season really starts up, connor's days are similar. and that’s how lauren remembers said information.

lauren was tempted to wait for her husband to get back from his suit fitting and make him come with her to your place—because like the whole good cop, bad cop idea sounded really appealing in her head—but lauren was too impatient.

she knocks again after a beat passes without any sound or sign of movement. it's only then that she hears your shaky voice through the door.

"sorry, one second!"

she squints incredulously at the door, even though you can't see her, her arms crossed over her chest like an impatient child. and sure, maybe she is impatient, but lauren feels that it's justified if you're keeping damn secrets from her like a freak.

finally, the apartment door is hastily pulled open, a gust of air pulling in the space between you and your best friend like the beginning of a storm. and perhapes lauren should've taken that as a sign.

at the sight of her, your eyes widen slightly, a wave of panic settling over your already frantic tainted features. you're slightly breathless, tank top a little askew like you've only just pulled it over the black bra lauren can see adorning your chest.

"hey," you greet, running a hand through your tousled hair, "I wasn't expecting you."

lauren's gaze narrows as she takes in your state, "I know. thought i'd drop in."

"oh," you swallow before giving a short laugh, "i'm actually just about to head out." another laugh, "yeah i'm just...I need eggs."

"eggs?"

"yeah!" you nod with seemingly panicked enthusiasm before giving a quick glance over your shoulder. you think it's discrete enough, but lauren catches it. 

she gives you a once over again, eyes trickling all the way down to your bare feet. it's then that lauren notices the shoes left hazardly by the front door. men's sneakers—men's sneakers that have been seemingly removed in a hast to be exact.

her lips part in shock, a tiny strangled gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes dart back to yours. "you're seeing someone! and he's in here right now, isn't he?"

this time, it's your turn to gasp. "i'm not seeing anyone!"

lauren raises a brow, "oh yeah?"

"yeah."

"okay, then who got you those flowers on your island?"

your jaw goes slack, mouth opening like you want to rattle off some sort of excuse, but the words never come.

lauren continues once she sees the little beige envelope still perched next to the beautiful arrangement of florals—pushing her way into your apartment like a woman on a mission. and that she is. "if you're not going to tell me, i'll just take a peek at that little card, mhm?"

"no!"

you dart past her, snatching the note before she has a chance to grab it.

and that’s the moment lauren’s knows that’s she’s been right all along. she makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh, dropping her expensive handbag to your barstool roughly. "okay, fine. i'll just find him then. 'cause I know he's in here."

"trust me when I tell you, this is not the way you want to meet him."

she stops walking, spinning on her heels as her inspector gadget brain starts up again. all half sarcastic hostility leaving her body as straight curiosity takes over—"so I haven't meet him before? because I've been trying to work out for the past few months if it was somebody at the wedding."

your eyes widen, "you've been sitting on this for months?"

"yeah! and it's been a damn uncomfortable seat because you didn't have the gut to just tell me about him," she trails off, "is he like a criminal or something?"

"no." you're quick to answer, "i'm pretty sure we'd both know that by now if that was the case." your slip up has your tongue going dry, eyes widening to a certain point that it looks painful.

"ha!" lauren points an accusing finger in your direction, "so I do know him."

"yes," you croak out, "but seriously let's just sit down and talk about this before you start searching my place like you're a FBI agent."

lauren doesn't even wait for you to finish before she's walking through your place, opening and closing closet doors on her way down the hall like a search dog. much to her dismay, the linen closet is empty, as well as the space you keep your holiday decorations.

the lack of man makes her scowl.

you're hot on lauren's heels, a blabbing mess of half strung together pleas falling on deaf ears as lauren pushes open your bedroom door.

there's a pair of jeans on the floor, half kicked under the bed like you—or whoever this man is—tried to hide them in a hurry. "is he in here?" lauren shoots you a pointed look. you wince, and she gets her confirmation. "is he in your closet?"

"i'm telling you right now, lauren, don't open the closet."

"i'm definitely going to open it."

and she does. and the sight before her immediately ignites a sound that can only be described as a wail. lauren shuts the closet door, a hand over her mouth while she blinks in a half shell shocked way.

a tense beat passes with lauren just staring off into space, and you anxiously biting the skin around your thumb nail, nervous gaze never once flickering from your best friend.

leon slips out between your closet doors a moment later, dressed in only his boxers. he has an awkward smile on his face and a hand cupping over his semi hard junk—trying to conceal all that from his teammates wife.

"hey lauren, how's it going?"

"what the fuck!" she gasps, looking between you both.

"you?"

you grimace, but nod.

"and you?"

leon nods.

“oh my god,” lauren fans her face, a dramatic flare that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing. “I think I'm going to pass out.”

you, used to and recognizing her said dramatics, don’t respond. but leon fully begins to freak out, eyes widening as he eases towards your best friends pacing form—large hands that minutes ago were down your pants, held out cautiously.

“you need sit down.”

lauren holds her hand up, halting your boyfriend in his tracks. “no, I can't—this is too much.” she begins fanning herself again, “when did this start happening?”

“what part?”

you shoot him a half stern look, “leon.”

“how many parts are there?”

“well we kissed when you locked us in your bedroom.” leon says often handily, like he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on this entire situation.

lauren gasps again—because what do you mean you guys kissed before the wedding? before today. “what?!” she all but squawks, big blue eyes darting between the two of you like you’ve just committed a crime.

she pauses, thinking back on that moment when she’d let you and leon out of her bedroom that day many weeks ago. were your lips swollen? was leon’s hair a mess? were you guys kissing when the door was opened?

it’s hard for lauren to recall when leon’s deep, gravely voice continues—“and we hooked up in muskoka.”

another gasp, louder and sharper than ever as lauren spins on her heels, focusing her attention solely on you—which really works in her favour considering leon is still half naked.

“I knew it started at the wedding! god, I didn't even consider leon. and for good reason! I thought you guys hated each other.”

“we did!” you confirm.

“actually for the record,” leon interjects cautiously, “I never hated her.”

“of course you didn’t.” lauren lets out a disbelieving sigh, running a small hand over her makeup free face while digesting the flurry of emotions coursing through her.

she looks between you both once again, a softer expression beginning to take over her sharp features. “so you guys are..?”

you swallow, “dating.”

“like dating dating.”

you cringe at the highschool tone of it all, giving leon a wtf squint. “were in love,” you elaborate after a second, eyes slowly falling back in line with your best friend.

she makes a noise, “oh god, this is like straight out of a romance novel. I kind of feel like i've got whiplash.” lauren rolls her lips together, “why did you guys hide this from me?”

the vulnerability lacing her words makes your heart squeeze, and the way her eyebrows draw upwards like a sad cartoon character only amplifies the feeling.

regardless of the guilt rattling your bones, you and leon had good reason for keeping the beginning stages of your relationship a secret—not just from lauren, but from everyone. reasons you immediately begin rattling off, and this time the panic is in your voice.

“it was your wedding! and for the first little bit we didn't know how to navigate everything.”

leon chimes in before you can blink, coming to your defense like he’s been doing for years—since before you even realized he was doing so. “and we spent years bickering and fighting and we just wanted to keep everything in the down low until we found our rythym.”

“yeah, and it just felt good—we were just ours.” you exhale loudly, running a hand over the flat of your stomach as if to soothe the wave of nausea, your eyes never once parting from your best friends. “i'm sorry, lauren.”

she nods, a natural glint in her eyes. “you guys are some of my best friends. i'm not mad...I just wish you felt like you could've told me.”

“I was a shitty friend,” you admit gently, chewing the skin of your cheek anxiously.

it’s instantly that lauren waves your comment off, padding on the carpeted bedroom floor to close to space between you. and she just hugs you, so tightly that it almost hurts, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“no, you could never be,” she mutters, “and this will definitely take me at least a week to digest but...i'll get over it.” the playful tone that lauren usually possesses eases back into her voice. “you guys look hot together.”

you practically snort, “thanks.”

she hums before her eyes drift back towards your boyfriend. “now leon please put your pants back on.”

“don't have to tell me twice,” leon breathes, already retrieving his discarded jeans from under your bed frame, tugging them up his thick legs in a way that makes you drool.

lauren pulls back from the hug, her small hands still holding onto your arms as a excitable grin pulls at the corner of her plump lips. “okay, now, tell me how leon confessed that he loved you.”

“oh god.” leon groans from behind the material of his t-shirt, only half way over his head.

but you just match her grin, thinking back to the night under the stars and the warm muskoka air. “you're going to die!”

—

it’s only a week after lauren forcing her way into your apartment and quite literally exposing you and a half naked leon into spilling the beans about your relationship, that connor finds out.

which, you’re surprised lauren didn’t spill the beans before then, especially considering her and her husband are still in that lovey dovey newly wed phase that makes them literally do and share every single thing with one another.

not that you can really say anything about being in a honeymoon phase, because you and leon are so deep in it that it’s almost embarrassing—you can’t recall a day since that night in muskoka that you haven’t been touching or kissing leon in some way.

anyways.

you and leon both decided that telling connor needed to be more of a formal conversation—compared to the way lauren found out, for example. so, you planned a dinner at leon’s condo and invited the happy couple over.

lauren, obviously sitting on this secret was practically buzzing on the way over in the passenger seat—connor sending his wife curious looks at every red light. but lauren only just grinned back at him like a cheshire cat.

it was kind of freaky.

and you and leon tried—really tried to get it right. dinner was in the oven on the keep warm setting, consisting home made chicken and veggies and potatoes that you drizzled with an amount of butter that would have the oilers nutritionists frowning, while you waited for them.

but it all started when leon reached above you to grab the plates, his hand enclosing around your hip and giving it a firm squeeze. half hard against your ass.

so really it’s your boyfriends fault, because soon enough you were making out on the kitchen island like horny teenagers.

you’ve got your legs wrapped around leon’s thick waist, hands running through his hair while he paws at your ass and legs. kissing like it’s the oxygen you need to keep breathing. and in a way, that’s what it feels like.

because this version of leon drasitial—hell, even the version you thought despised your guts just as much as he did beer nuts—is truly your lifeline. and yeah, he is the air you breathe. he’s the sun and the moon and you love him more than anything.

and leon loves the colour red now. especially when it’s your red nails tickling his arm while you watch a movie together. when it’s your red lips kissing his cheek in the lazy morning light. your red sweatpants that you always leave on his bathroom floor.

too wrapped up in one another to hear the door open, you’re completely oblivious to the sound of lauren and connor toeing off their shoes, only a half wall between you.

all you can hear is your thumping heart.

all leon can hear is your little breathy sighs.

until—"I knew they didn't actually hate each other."

lauren half laughs, half gawks as you and leon separate. she eyes her husband in disbelief—connor doesn’t even look phased. no, if anything he looks content.

like he knew. and not in the way lauren knew. but like, actually had a real gut feeling about their best friends.

"was I the only clueless one?" lauren questions, watching as you slip off the counter top, adjusting your frilly top as you do so—previously roughed up from leon’s wondering hands.

you send her a look, wincing at her question. clearly, that means yes.

but connor just shrugs, walking further into the delicious smelling kitchen. the oilers captain picks a grape off the vine sitting in the large fruit bowl, popping it in his mouth.

"nah, they were both clueless about each other's feelings for like…7 years. you pale in comparison to that."

[orangepeelknives]

the way it's so obvious that will was raised and mainly influenced by a Boy Mom and mack had a Girl Mom and was mainly raised and influenced by a Boy Dad is sooooo rich to moiiii. 

will "universally beloved" smith being soooo secure in himself all the time. like oh you wanna make fun of me for listening to katy perry and adele?? dgaf. go ahead. wanna have me record stupid tiktoks that are gonna make ppl call me gay on the internet? sure okay teehee! sending flowers on mothers day to his billet mom while halfway across the world. posting up on insta w the sister, the family. the matching tracksuits in boston like yeah yk what i bet will fucking put the idea in the goddamn gc i bet when someone suggested it as a joke he was like yes. absolutely. waiter your ugliest tracksuit pleas. goes back to what i was saying abt insecurities - will is confident. thats not as much of an issue for will when it comes to personal life. he didnt crash out when he was in a slump, he stays positive, he's perfectly okay being made fun of constantly (mack on the podcast just delivering blow after affectionate blow). he has friends and he knows it, he's well liked and he knows it, he's a good hockey player and he knows it. it's not that hes super chill or not conpetitive, its just that hes secure in himself. not cocky, no god complex. absolutely NOT saying that WSH is insecurity-less at all, but i do think he is self assured enough to be capable of handling his insecurities normally. 

my beloved mack on the other hand......oh that boy is RIFE With Issues. First off, Girl Mom Robyn Celebrini? that diva does not gaffff she is a Charley gal all the way. feel like she lowkey just handed the boys over to rick like okay go crazy. she had no issues with the coaching style that rick used to raise mack and aiden, and seems generally more uninvolved than a lot of other hockey moms, even tho colleen is def wayyy MORE involved than normal, robyn lives an hour away and goes to zero practices and zero games. so i think it's a fairly safe assumption that rick is the dominant parental figure here. 

and when your dominant parental figure is also your coach?? you arent getting parented, you're getting coached. the lines blur immensely. 

first of all, let’s underline this: Macklin Celebrini is a product of a Boy Dad household. not just any Boy Dad, but a performance-coach, daily-checklist, grindset-before-breakfast Boy Dad. ricky wasn’t parenting, he was mentoring. Which means there were no real emotional safety nets. you’re sad? skate it out. you’re tired? get better, push through. the idea of comfort for its own sake doesn’t exist in that world. There’s love, sure, but it’s conditional, and it’s communicated through improvement.

so of course mack's entire identity is built around performance = worth. If he’s not doing well, he’s not just failing, he’s not lovable. he has no idea how to separate “im not playing great” from “im a bad person who has disappointed everyone who has ever believed in me.” 

and then there’s will.

will is over here just… being a person. Being confident and beloved and totally fine with the fact that people think he’s a little cringe sometimes. Because Will is backed by a whole childhood of unconditional emotional support. Boy Mom behavior. you know he grew up in a house where they named feelings. where if he cried, nobody told him to suck it up, they probably asked why, made him tea, and listened. of course he doesn’t care if someone calls him gay on tiktok, his mommy has been gassing him up in the comments since U10.

thats why the iihf vid is sooooo revealing. will's recording his little “hope you’re having fun” like it’s no big deal. bc to him, it isnt. hes just talking to his best friend. he knows they’ll make fun of him a bit, but it’s with love, and he can laugh with them. Mack, on the other hand, is out there alone. no wsh to be the buffer, to set the tone, to let him know “hey, we’re all just having fun here.” so mack panics. He overthinks the tone, overcorrects into flat affect, gives absolutely nothing to the camera, artificially deepens his voice. bc if he picks the wrong vibe? if he comes off too affectionate, too weird, too off-beat? he'll get mocked, and not in a fun way. in a way that confirms what he secretly believes: he’s doing it wrong. he always does it wrong.

same deal with the emergency contact video. Mack immediately goes “you go first" not because he’s shy, but because he needs to know if he’s allowed to pick will. he needs to see it reflected back. It’s not enough to feel the closeness, he needs the explicit naming of it, because he’s never been taught to trust his own instincts when it comes to emotional safety. he only knows performance cues. so when they point at each other and he gives that tiny, breathy “okay good” that is not a joke. thats relief. thats “thank god I read this right.” thats “I picked the right person and he picked me back.”

It’s also such a perfect example of how dependent mack is on will for emotional calibration. will is the tone. mack doesn’t know how to read the room unless will reads it first. thats why when will not there? Mack either shuts down or spins out or immediately goes looking for will (read, every practice ever). he has no compass. no stabilizer. his baseline isn’t his own self-worth, it’s “what is will doing? okie, i'll mirror that.”

mack's insecurity isn’t about failure itself, its about what happens after failure. bc in Mack’s world, after a bad game, you don’t get comfort, you get correction. you get game tape. a sharper edge. a checklist. from rick, after a bad performance, the message was never “you’re still enough,” it was “you better fix this before next time.” not because rick doesn’t love him, but because tick only knows how to show love through pressure. And that messes a kid up. thats the issue with having a coach-parent. 

so when will came into mack's life, laughing off his own slumps, staying soft even when frustrated, nottaking his emotions out on the people around him, it changed the blueprint. bc mack learned through will that you could have a shit week and still be met with a chirp and a pat on the shoulder, not silence and homework. in mh opinion thats part of the reason why mack didn’t lose it when will started the season cold. bc he was mirroring. bc will had never punished him for having an off night. so when the roles reversed? mack didn’t need to lash out. He already knew how to hold space, because will had held it for him first. if will thinks its okay to laugh off a bad pass, then maybe it is okay! in the same way that if will thinks its okay to pick me for the emergency contact, or film these dumbass tiktoks for sharks media, or order milk and cookies in the hotel, then maybe it is okay! 

thats the kind of emotional foundation mack is building now: not “im scared you’ll leave,” but “im scared you’ll stop being soft with me.” And Will never does. even when mack is spiraling or shut down or being a sulky freak about stupid shit, will never punishes him. 

anyways in this essay i will...

[bonediggercharleston]

Isekais have changed a lot. Used to be the main character was a kid that went to a different world and learnt valuable lessons in some kind of hero's journey a la Inuyasha, Fushigi Yuugi, Leda, The Neverending Story, Labyrinth, Escaflowne and Magic Knights Rayearth. The saddest part is that for the most part those two worlds were separate so friends were lost forever.

Nowadays they are escapist in the sense that the main character is reborn. They usually loathe or lament their misspent life and get a do-over, where they either have a power fantasy (all the ones you think of when someone says isekai) or in some cases a world building fantasy (Log Horizon and Killing Slimes come to mind), but I think it is a reflection of Japan's hypercapitalist and hyperconsumerist society. The stress being so overwhelming that dying and trying again is preferable and the distractions being etched so deeply in the conscious that every isekai is just a world with video game mechanics and not an actual fantasy world.

It also shows how the genre of anime has entirely focused on depressed adults longing for their childhood but not in the positive way were it is a fun adventure but a legitimate escape. The desire to build and live in a world the viewer feels less alienated in is baked into the genre now.

This is why Frieren and Dungeon Meshi are a breath of fresh air. While you can argue they definitely still have RPG influence (but so did Record of Lodoss War which was basically just an adapted DnD campaign), it is more organic, self-contained and real because they treat the world as their own and they focus less on the power fantasy of one character but on the arcs of the party members. There are main characters, but they are not more special than their supporting cast.

That is not to say modern isekai are inherently bad. I really enjoyed Log Horizon because it examines what societies would form in a trapped in the game plot, Killing Slimes is a study on how important it is to take life easy, Grimgar is like an animated pastel painting that injects visceral humanity in to the gameplay loop of an RPG setting by making clear that the mobs are struggling to survive like the teenagers are, Life as a Villainess makes fun of the genre in a loving way and wants to save all the characters even the "bad ones", KonoSuba knows exactly how stupid the premise is and I have heard good things about Re:Zero in that it is a bit like edge of tomorrow. It's just that the power fantasy variety of Isekai is cheaper than any shounen battle manga and not the best use of that kind of story, because it reinforces that you can't as you are and need to reroll the dice. The basic assumption is that there is no chance of improving without a blank slate. I don't know if this reflects more on the people drawn to this than the society that creates such people.

Also very often it starts to feel like you are only grinding a game instead of reading/watching a story and there is no character progression beyond number go up. At least the porn versions of such stories are honest about what they are.

Isekai just seems like a profoundly sad genre of fantasy by design. Yes you have rad JRPG powers now and you get to hang out with big tiddy elves who love you but do you not have like. Friends that you mourn. Family that you miss. Habits that you can’t practice now without tripping. Familiar sounds and smells you’ll never know again

Either you did and you don’t care in the face of JRPG powers and elf tiddies, or you didn’t, and both options are profoundly sad in their own ways

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: what would drive you to kill? (18+) *a little cringe*

Hello and welcome to this new reading of mine! In here I will tell you what would drive you to kill. I hope you enjoy it and find it interesting!

masterpost > paid readings > patreon masterlist

for the extended version of this reading and 80+ exclusive and extended pac's check put my patreon

Pile 1:

What would drive me to kill?

The people I love. Easy. No hesitation. My friends, my family, my brothers and sisters. I don’t care who it is or why, if they try to hurt the people I love, I’ll lose it. Fully. I’d go blackout if I had to. Because you don’t touch my people. Ever. You don’t even look at them the wrong way. I’d rather be someone who protects with words. Who hugs it out. Who talks through it. But this world doesn’t always let you do that. Sometimes people cross lines that can’t be uncrossed. And in that moment? I wouldn’t be kind. I wouldn’t be sweet. I’d be done. I’d kill for them and still hold their hand after. I’d wash the blood off and help them fall asleep that night. They’d never even have to know. I’d carry it alone, I’d take the weight, the fear, the aftermath, if it meant they get to live their life safe and untouched.

extended reading > paid readings

Pile 2:

What would drive me to kill?

When it’s survival or death. When someone forces me to pick between them or me, and I’m sorry, but I’ll pick me every single time. I’ve been through too much to let someone take me out. I’ve crawled out of places so dark most people wouldn’t even know how to breathe in them. I’ve seen things that rewired my brain, I’ve healed from things I never even talked about. I’ve had to rebuild myself using scraps; no map, no help, just stubbornness and a pulse. I had no one. So if someone tries to end that, if someone thinks they can take away the little bit of peace I’ve found, the safety I scraped together with bloody hands? No. I’ll kill before I let that happen, and I won’t feel bad about it either, because I know what it cost me to survive.

extended reading > paid readings

Pile 3:

What would drive me to kill?

A memory, or a moment. A past version of me who stood there and did nothing, or couldn’t, or wasn’t strong enough. That version of me still lives in my chest, it still cries when no one is around. It still shakes when certain things come up. I don’t talk about it much, not because it wasn’t real, but because it was too real. Something happened, and that broke me in a way I didn’t even notice at first. By the time I was aware of it the damage was already done. I don’t even know what version hurts the most; the one that froze, the one that stayed silent, or the one that couldn’t fix it. And even though people say it wasn’t my fault, even if they try to reassure me that over and over again, I still carry it like it was; like I should’ve known better, as if I should’ve done better, as if I failed someone who didn’t deserve it. So now? If I ever see that again, if I ever hear that same scream, that same panic, that same desperate begging, something in me will break loose. No mercy, no pause, no waiting. I won’t freeze again, I just cannot afford to do so.

extended reading > paid readings

[elliespassagerprincess]

that professor ellie was perfect. please do a nsfw one LOL i feel like she’d be so sweet but also lowkey not BUT ONLY SOMETIMES bc she’s usually gentle but other times she’s like I HAVE TO HAVE YOU HEHEHE but never too crazy but also is she??? im spiralling

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie / first time / nsfw headcannons (currently reading) / more headcannons / grading

starting a life together / getting married / having a baby

warning: NSFW content! MDNI 18+

☆ By day, she’s the composed, sarcastic, brilliant literature professor — but behind closed doors, Ellie becomes the kind of woman who whispers filth in your ear while holding your face like you’re precious.

☆ Her desk is definitely not just for grading. She’s taken you over it more than once, locking the door and muttering, “Need to teach you a real lesson.”

☆ Ellie buys you expensive lingerie “for her eyes only” — and makes you wear it under your clothes to class just to tease her. She'll smirk knowingly while lecturing, completely composed while you're squirming.

☆ That calm, slow professor tone? It drops an octave when she’s turned on, and it drives you wild. Especially when she reads poetry to you while touching you.

☆ She worships your body. Whispers “my good girl” while brushing your hair out of your face. Calls you brilliant, beautiful, irresistible — even when you’re falling apart beneath her.

☆ Subtle in public — a hand on your lower back, a kiss to your temple — but in private? She's feral. Leaves marks like she’s afraid someone else might look at you wrong.

☆ Ellie makes everything sound intellectual… even sex. “Let me illustrate this theory,” or “Let’s conduct an experiment,” as she pins your wrists down.

☆ Some nights it’s slow, candlelit, and gentle. Other nights she’s gripping your hips, leaving you breathless and blissed out because she needed you that bad.

☆ When she keeps the glasses on during sex, you know she means business. She looks down at you like you’re a book she’s studied a thousand times but still finds something new every time.

☆ Yes, she will continue a sentence or a theory while slowly sliding her fingers into you — “Pay attention. This part’s on the test.”

☆ Weekend mornings always start with lazy kisses, sleepy fingers, and Ellie growling, “Don’t get up. Not until I’m done with you.”

☆ Ellie lives to see how far she can push you. Fingers, mouth, toys — she’ll draw it out until you’re crying her name like it’s scripture.

☆ Once in a while she gets so turned on she loses it — hair messy, biting your shoulder, saying “I need you. Right now. Don’t care where.”

☆ Immediately after, Ellie’s soft as ever — running you a bath, wrapping you in one of her flannels, feeding you strawberries like you’re royalty.

☆ That locked drawer in her office? Yeah, it’s not just for documents. It holds your favorite toy, a silk blindfold, and one of your panties she “borrowed.”

☆ Reading You Erotica: She’ll find the filthiest passage from some obscure book and read it to you while you sit in her lap, grinding slowly, whimpering.

☆ If someone else flirts with you, Ellie pulls you close, kisses you hard, and whispers, “Mine. Let me remind you.”

☆ She doesn’t always need to speak. Sometimes it’s a look — those sharp green eyes locking on you — and you know to drop to your knees.

☆ She tells you she dreams about you. That she can’t concentrate in meetings because she’s thinking about how you taste, how you sound.

☆ She calls you her “thesis.” The one thing she’ll never stop studying, never stop learning, never stop needing.

☆ Her hand wraps around your throat, but it’s never rough — it’s possessive. She leans in, kisses your lips softly, and says, “Breathe for me. That’s my girl.”

☆ One time, she made you sit through one of her lectures with a remote-controlled vibe inside you. Smiled at you from the front like nothing was happening — then turned it up when she caught you squirming.

☆ Ellie isn’t flashy with bondage. She prefers silk ties, slow binding, and long stares as she murmurs, “You look better like this. All mine.”

☆ Ellie needs to hear every sound you make. She’ll edge you for hours just to hear the pitch of your moans change, cataloguing them like they’re part of a study.

☆ She tugs your hair not just to dominate, but to angle your head up — to kiss you, to praise you, to look you in the eye and say, “So fucking pretty like this.”

☆ If you're a student, she makes you earn your orgasms during finals. “Get an A, and I’ll ruin you. Fail, and I’ll really ruin you. Either way, baby, you’re not walking right.”

☆ Ellie has a thing for your hands on her — gripping her shoulders, clutching her shirt, leaving nail marks down her back. She thanks you for them like you gave her a gift.

☆ She once let you ride her while still wearing her full robe, glasses slipping down her nose, hand on your waist as she said, “Professor’s privilege.”

☆ If you ever admit to having a dream about her, Ellie insists you describe every detail — while she touches you exactly how you described it.

☆ In bed, she gets scary quiet. One word from her — strip, stay, come — and your body obeys before your brain catches up.

[madamechrissy]

When I said I had a lot to say I meant it 😮‍💨

I know reader loves gojo but imma enjoy nanami while he’s here 😚

‘Hey darling - he’s gonna hey darling his fucking face-‘ plus all the little comments towards nanami, sir calm down 😭

All the other guys getting to openly love/date their girls because they’re pornstars as well but gojo can’t is so sad.

Gojo getting hurt in a past relationship and doing the same thing to reader is giving duke gojo vibes (but nicer in a way). It’s how he got into the porn industry and now hes dragging reader into it even though she’s said multiple times she doesn’t view sex the same way he does. I already know somehow it’s gonna get leaked that she’s the one in gojo’s videos. She wants to stay hidden but the way she’s becoming popular someone’s gonna try and find out 😭.

Reader wanting to stay in gojo’s life any way she can is so sad!!! She’s changing herself and doing porn with him so he’ll like her and want to be around her😭. He knows he can’t date her but he’s still doing all these things with her. He’s gonna hurt her so bad, he already is hurting her so bad!!

Our bestie is a real one. This ‘relationship’ is killing us and is actively letting us know it’s a terrible idea. She wants to look out for us but it’s already too late🥲. I know she regrets taking us to the party where we met gojo.

I think I said everything I needed to. Sorry about the massive wall of text and ily 😘 🧡

ahhh yes it is really difficult because reader doesn't feel she's enough for Satoru AND reader is actually very jealous of anyone with him, so she feels this is how she keeps him around and interested. Not knowing that man is OBSESSED with her my god!!! 😭

He literally can't get his dick hard from just seeing this girl. And he feels he's not enough for her and is using the clear interest she has in sex as a way to keep HER because he doesn't feel adequate due to his profession.

The fucked part is they BOTH are accepting of each other but something has to give and it can't be just reader here. Satoru however is not intentionally hurting or changing her. This is ultimately her decision due to her obsessive love and personality in general 🥺🥺🥺 he is in a way repeating the cycle of what happened to him which ill get more into!

They could both avoid this with a decent conversation but then it would not be much of a story and I love to torture all of you with pining, longing and slow burns because I'm really mean 😂😂🫶🫶

Thank you for sharing all your opinions, I actually am gonna drop some Nanami headcanons soon to show who he actually is 🤭🤭💖💖

[shoutsofmybones]

Do you have any recommendations on how to proceed or start to make a psychosis plan? Maybe especially for religious people?

I do! This post will be lengthy, but if you want to be prepared for the real possibility of psychosis, I think it's all important.

First of all, something that I believe ALL people should have, regardless of their risk factors, is a psychiatric advance directive (PAD). Think of it as a living will, but specifically for mental health treatment. In the USA, in many places it is legally binding, and protects you from coercive or forceful psychiatric treatment, particularly treatments that you might be pressured to consent to while you're vulnerable.

Second, talk to someone you trust (a family member, close friend, or life partner) about how you would like them to respond in the case of a psychiatric emergency. Designate at least one person to take point on helping you receive treatment in a psychiatric emergency. Psychosis not only makes it difficult to make decisions for yourself, but it also makes other people (including mental healthcare professionals) not trust or respect the decisions you do make. Find someone who you trust to treat you with respect.

Third, do research ahead of time about the psychosis programs in your area! If there's a First Episode program nearby, then make sure you know how to get in touch with them. These programs can really make a difference, and in about a third of cases they're able to help patients never have a psychotic episode again. However, a lot of primary care doctors and even therapists don't know about them, or don't think to refer you to them. If you have designated someone to help you in case of psychosis, ask them to fight like hell for you to get into the First Episode program. It's life changing.

For a religious person, I really recommend making a personal creed or list of beliefs you hold, and keeping it close and accessible. I have one on my phone. It helps to know what you believe, because psychosis, particularly religious psychosis, can really get that mixed up. An extremely common symptom of psychosis is confusion, and in religious psychosis that can make your religious beliefs get confused as well, and that can be really difficult. Also, it's just fun and comforting to have a creed, I actually just recommend that whether or not you're making a psychosis plan.

Another rec for religious people: identify prayers you find calming and comforting and write them down. I like finding prayers from the saints. Specifically avoid anything that invites mysticism. I know there are a lot of mystics on this site but I'm actually very serious, mysticism is very close to psychosis in the brain and it can be a trigger for increased symptoms. This definitely includes the Jesus prayer.

Above all, I think the best preparation for psychosis is working on the stigma you probably have absorbed regarding psychosis and its effects. Even in neurodiversity affirming spaces, there can be a lot of stigmatizing language used about people with psychosis! You should read personal accounts of psychosis and recovery. Talk to people who are in psychosis, or have been in psychosis, about their lives and experiences. In my country, there is currently a rise in psychotic episodes and conditions due to use of certain substances, and yet there remains a huge stigma against talking about it. Make sure you learn and internalize that psychosis is not life-ruining, it does not define a person, and it doesn't make someone "one of the bad ones." Psychosis is just another facet of the human condition, and it's not by definition the worst case scenario. If you do end up experience psychosis, you are still valuable, still worthy, and still loved! Always keep that in mind.

This post is kind of long, but I hope it's helpful. I feel very passionately about this topic because I have been in a treatment program for psychosis for several years, and through that I have met a lot of people who wish they had made a plan ahead of time. Best of luck to you!

[winchestermysterymachine]

how did you become the winchesters shot of espresso?

Dean Winchester

there is nothing funnier than watching a man absolutely crumble to his feet for a woman. dean doesn't beg for anything. he has never once begged for his life to be spared, he won't even beg for a mercy kill. and he definitely won't beg to have sex with you, but he feels like if he doesn't, he'll explode. surely he's had the idea that he can go fuck someone else and you wouldn't even know, but that's cruel and he likes you too much. but aside from the sex, it's the way you can take control of any situation. he sees how you handle a guy like bobby. he's old, mean, wants what he wants. you're like the perfect girl, helping bobby around the house, doing the cleaning he'd never do. keeping the knives clean and sharpened, all herbs and bones separated. all dean has ever wanted, was a picture perfect home, and even though he's tricked himself into believing that won't ever happen, you are exactly what he's always wanted. someone to support him, to handle him. who will put up with his nonsense and keep him in check because dean's careless. dean knows he's careless, and if he had someone he cared about, maybe he'd care more. and that's exactly why he won't stop thinking about you. you are everything a real man should want. not just as a house wife, but as a partner, a friend, a lover. not someone who would just be a mother, even if neither of you had kids, or the picture perfect life, he'd still want you anyway. he can't sleep most nights, too excited about what the two of you are going to get up to during the weekend. will you go see a movie? sneak into a drive-in-theater like teenagers. get drunk at a bar? almost have sex on the bed or the couch or the back of his car? he calls every single day to check in. he lies, telling you that he's making sure bobby's doing okay, or asking you to have bobby look into some random mysterious monster the boys haven't come across before. dean doesn't get this way. he knows his life on this earth is limited, the hunters death is something that's followed him around since his teenage years like a plague and his worst thought, is dying and leaving you behind to clean up his mess. he tries to keep the dating to a minimum, only on the weekends, but he's an honest sucker for it. and the way you don't even seem to be bothered by his desire for you? oh you've got him messed up so bad. you don't care, or maybe you do, you just don't let him see it. but dean knows what he wants, and no one will stand in the way of it. the sound of your voice calms him down after a bad hunt to, he won't tell you, he'll just sit in the car silently, phone pressed to his ear as you yammer on about some tv show, a friend, bobby. it keeps reminding him that you're safe, and the more work he does, the more monsters he kills, the safer you are in this world. and if you're safe in this world, then maybe, just maybe, the life he's dreamed of since he was a little kid will be a bit easier to obtain. 

"And I got this one boy, and he won't stop calling, when they act this way I know I got 'em."

Sam Winchester

sam gets so serious sometimes. he understands the jokes and the haha of it all, but he's kind of moody, gloomy. even in his mid 20's, he's still a little angsty like a teenager having their first rush of hormones. but sam after dark? after nine pm, he gets all giggle. sometime soon doesn't come quic enough for sam, and he's dropping by at bobby's place, all he wants to do is watch crappy tv with you. he'll dry dishses while you wash. hell, he'll even help with laundry as long as it's with you. whenever you're together, he kept help the giddy feeling in his chest. like when a puppy realizes it's owner has come back after being gone all day. his new favorite thing is to get you both drunk, call dean and have him pick you both up, laughing about it hysterically. it's not even that funny, and kind of mean when you think back on it sober, but it's genuinely the most fun sam's ever had. you had him hooked when you were too busy, and now he's being reeled in by your addictive personality. he didn't think someone could be so fun. this is what sam's life should be like, he feels it in his chest every time the first few tipsy giggles pass between the both of you. this is what life is meant to feel like. of course in the morning, you both nurse hangovers, and dean's being annoying back at you, but still, even through the painful, pounding headaches, you share laughs. even when you're not drunk, you still laugh at each other. passing stories back and forth of childhoods gone wrong, everything you dreamt about doing as kids. he feels so open and free with you. he knows he can tell you anything, the same way he can tell dean anything. you won't judge him, fear him, worry about him in that suffocating way that turns him away from people. you don't ask too many questions, you just get him. it's that serious understanding that lets sam be so carefree with you. he'll laugh about the times you've messed up during hunts, joke about times either of you almost (or did die), because that's just the way to cope with those kinds of thing's sometimes. you watch videos on youtube, like teenagers staying up past bedtime, hiding laughs and smiles behind hands, hiding in each other's necks or chests when you can't keep the laughter down. it's just so soft, and honestly so unlike sam to just let himself go like that. but you like this other side of him, and you're so grateful that he's comfortable enough to open up to you about thing's he normally can't cope with, or begin to understand on his own. 

"Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger, my twisted humor makes him laugh so often."

Castiel

castiel doesn't need espresso, he doesn't get tired, he doesn't sleep, but there are other thing's he needs. someone to follow. he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to. you could say 'jump!' and he'd ask how high. when you walk away, just out of reach, he follows. it's the longing he feels that keeps the rope wrapped around his neck, and it won't loosen, and he doesn't really want it to. castiel listens to dean mostly, sometimes sam, but you always. he doesn't want to upset you, and it crushes him the most when he's on one of his paths to be the best or lead heaven, or whatever his little angel heart desires, and he sees how much its affecting you negatively, but he knows he's doing his best and it's all for your benefit. cas hadn't ever realized how difficult life was, and even though sam and dean's lives were very rough, and can't really be compared to an average humans life, the way you are contradicts everything. your skin is soft, you smell so fragrant. he can pick apart every single scent you have. whether you put more conditioner in than last time, if you used a different lotion, even down the type of nail polish you use, he can smell the difference. and gosh, the difference between nail polish odor, and the scent of rotting corpses being dug up to burn, or gunpowder, is so opposite. he hadn't ever expected to want something romantic, especially with a human. long after you're done, he will still be here, the exact same, unless he dies, he is eternal. but you're like his biggest dream come true. so understanding and kind, your personality gives him genuine hope in the human race that there's some kind of meaning to it all. that not everything is just so negative. that life isn't all about the next kill, or just living to the next day. it's meant to be sweet, and honest, and fun, and simple. what he'd do for something simple nowadays. he's imagined the perfect life with you. the children you'd have, how they'd have your personality and he knew he could live eternally happy just knowing that a piece of you lives in the world. he doesn't dream, but if he could, you'd be the star of the show. castiel himself doesn't really understand what it is that keeps pulling him closer to you like a magnet, but he enjoys it. he knows human life is precious, so he spends all your waking (and even sleeping) minutes at your side, watching you grow smarter, kinder, more passionate about this or that.

“My twisted humor, makes him laugh so often, my honey bee, come and get this pollen.”

So, is it really that sweet? (I guess so!)

[unwashedunsatisfiedmeowmeow]

Arrogant!yandere concept

Trigger warnings: torture, extreme violence, manipulation, arrogant behaviour (duh)

You've been warned! :}

- Arrogant!yandere naturally sees you as someone who's below them. Less smart, less beautiful, less capable... The list of things they can do better than you is loooong!

- Arrogant!yandere is obsessed with you deeply for some reason, but is too prideful to show or admit it. They kinda hate themselves for falling in love, especially for someone like you.

-Arrogant!yandere can't help themselves but to look at you. Observe you. They just can't figure out why you, of all people they could fall for...

- Arrogant!yandere is very comfortable with manipulating you. Their brain simply does not register it as a bad thing. Them lying and manipulating you (or your close ones) into getting what they want is a given. You can't change this "quirk" of theirs.

- Arrogant!yandere will die inside if you leave, but would rather jump off a cliff than chase you. Instead making everything in their power to make YOU crawl back (hopefully completely shattered and in tears).

- Arrogant!yandere will get really upset if you go off script and do something on your own, without asking their opinion/permission first. Just you acting on your free will in general will make their eye twitch.

- Arrogant!yandere is overjoyed everytime you show signs of devotion to them. Something happens inside them when you are putting them on a pedestal and want to get their approval. The more dependant you are on them, the less strict they are gonna be with you. In that case their arrogance will transform into mild brattyness.

- "I am your god, so don't you dare to question me! I will not tolerate your disrespect, [name]."

- Arrogant!yandere is insanely jealous. Sometimes it's hard to keep up with the image they want you to see, so expect sudden outbirsts of anger whenever you make them even slightly jealous. Though it would be hard to understand why they're so mad, because they never admit their feelings for you.

- Arrogant!yandere can sometimes "slip up" and show you their real feelings. Chances of that are increased if they're drunk, manic, extremely tired or under substances. But their subtle "confessions" (more like caring gestures) can happen often if you two know each other for a long time.

- Arrogant!yandere will make it know that you're "out" if you dare to show the same level of affection to somebody else. Deep inside they will regret that, which can be seen in them stalking your socials. They're the type to break up with you just to see how you're gonna react.

- If you're very "stubborn" (don't want to submit to Arrogant!yandere's greatness) they will plot on your ass. It can get really ugly depending on how strong you're gonna stand your ground. It may even lead intto kindapping, torture and war-crime level of mind control. Everything to make you submit.

- Arrogant!yandere will fall into primal rage if someone who is not them, will try to dominate you. You see, other people falling in love with you is already bad for your one and only yandere, but with that they can still deal. But someone trying to replace THEM in your life is another fucking story. Same with you being abused/wronged by anyone but them.

- Arrogant!yandere won't hesitate to rip the nails and skin of your abusers face. If your abuser will still have an audacity to stay alive, arrogant!yandere will force gallons of gasoline into their throat and set them on fire. That's how far they'll go to reclaim your innocence and their power over you.

- "Who the fuck he thought he was? It's so obvious that only I am allowed to do that to you. Next time something like that happens - inform me IMMEDIATELY!"

[canyonkingdom]

The biggest comeback ever

Did you guys miss me???

Jk, it would be impossible to revive someone who’s dead

You didn’t know that CK had a twin, right? Now you do! We have the same nickname but to save the confusion, call me Carlos.

I know my sister really loves this fandom, and there are certain things that she left unseen from the world that I feel like you guys should see. Even if they aren’t finished, she did say she was going to post them no matter what… even asked me to post them if I could, so now I am here to fulfill that wish!

Here are the links of the tumblr drafts of her stories (there’s only a few and are mostly writing):

i am trying to find the “seven seas of rhye” and “you’re going to hell”ones because those are the ones she wanted to post them most! She keeps telling me about it when she was still alive.

To her friends in this fandom, thank you. She loves you all. I once got a dream where she asked me if anyone missed her. Real or not, I told her if no one missed her in real life, your friends online certainly will. She smiled and left me alone ever since, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing…

I will probably leave this account untouched after I find the other stories, this is like history!

[lady-griffin]

I don’t hate the flashback scene but I also don’t love it; describing it as feeling sugary and excessive really sums up some of my problems with it.

If I was doing that scene, without completely rewriting or removing it – I would have made it less of a flashback and more of memory.

Have things be disjointed or non-real elements included; Vander’s memories have been torn up again and again and again but Vi calling his name was enough for him to put them together and be cognizant enough to be himself again... but those memories are still broken up. It’s not 100%.

Some possible thoughts - having flickers of other people being in the bar too (making it feel more like a community and not just three best friends) and then it just becomes Vander, Silco, and Felicia because those two are who he tried so hard to remember.

Maybe we see the mom dancing with the dad, but he keeps flickering in and out and disappears altogether because Vander wasn’t desperate to remember him as much when he was being experimented on by Singed; but Felicia and Silco, his girls, his kids – he clung to those memories so they're more solid for him, but even they’re not perfectly remembered, because he literally can't.

Maybe young Silco keeps appearing with his eye after the river or the barnacle version of him creeps through for a second or two.

Just adding some more angst to Vander’s whole story, because I’m a sucker for emotional pain.

Look I'm not saying that's the answer or whatever, but for me that flashback would’ve been more impactful if it was less this is how things exactly were and more this is how Vander remembers things.  

One of the reasons Isha’s montage of her life with Jinx destroys my heart is because its Isha’s perception of things; it’s not just a montage of flashbacks, but instead it’s just...

Isha’s love for Jinx and her life with her.

- -

I also think the flashback creates an unintentional slight problem with motivation (it’s not major or anything), but it irks me there is an aspect of Vander and Silco fighting for Zaun and independence being because of Felicia’s kids and not “just” for the sake of getting out from underneath their oppressor’s boot.

Don’t get me wrong, people are motivated for personal stakes all the goddamn time and I’m not against that at all

               But it just seems like the writers thought there needed to be an additional layer for why they were fighting for Zaun when that alone is pretty solid by itself. Sure, Felicia having kids wasn’t the start or anything, but it just feels unnecessary to me, and not unnecessary in a good way where it fills out the world a tiny bit more.

Like others have said, if anything it makes the world feel more claustrophobic.

I get annoyed when "everything" is connected in a meaningful way from the very start rather than things becoming meaningful over time. Not everything has to be deeply connected or tied together to matter.

Personally, I’m a huge fan of really any kind of relationship where the individuals mean the world to each other but that wasn’t always the case nor was it inevitable or fated to be.

Does that make sense?

It’s not bad, but for me, there’s such a difference of Vander always loved Vi and Powder from the start because they were Felicia’s girls versus Vander knew these two girls and liked them just as much as any other kid running around Zaun, perhaps a bit more, but after he took them in, they were no longer kids of one of his supporters and friends, they became HIS girls, HIS children.

One of the reasons I loved Silco and Jinx’s relationship in S1 was that we literally saw Silco not caring for this little girl at all, like the only reason he would’ve remembered killing her is because of everything else that happened that night and Vander’s corpse being a few feet away to Jinx becoming the most important person to Silco, her being someone he truly loved and deeply cared about, to the point that she became vastly more important to him than his life-long dream of Zaun.

S1 started with Zaun being worth everything to Silco, no price was too high, no act crossed the line, if the end was Zaun than the means were more than justified and then S1 ended with nothing being worth Jinx for him; Zaun was meaningless if Jinx wasn’t there next to Silco.

And look Silco knowing and caring about Felicia doesn’t really change that, because clearly Silco doesn’t love Jinx because of Felicia, since he was 1000% ready to murder Vi without a second thought, but yeah...

I don’t have a problem with things being connected, sometimes it’s great, but I also think there are far too many stories where that wasn’t needed at all.

The flashback didn’t ruin anything for me, but it did...

I guess dull things a bit.

^^^ This “criticism” often comes at the expense of details in the scene they laud so highly.

Vi and Powder approach a burly man beating someone up without fear in a setting where any normal person would be terrified to meet someone who might do them harm.

They approach him and point to themselves, indicating they’re looking for their parents.

Vander ACKNOWLEDGES their gesture and points to their parent’s dead bodies. Meaning not only do they know he’s someone they can trust, but that he KNEW who they were and who their parents were.

The “revelation” in season 2 that Vander knew them doesn’t change the way this scene plays out in the opening. It’s clear as day that they aren’t just some random kids he adopts. He KNEW them. They knew HIM. That’s all shown in the opening scene.

I do not understand where this wishful misinterpretation comes from.

[elizakai]

i’m beginning to realize.

i have a lot of extremely tall people in my life, while i myself am short

my perception of “tall”, and height differences, is INCREDIBLE skewed, and i haven’t realized that till recently when i. draw characters and people are like GAHDAMN you drew him tall

like “what?” *looks again*

“huh”

[gammija]

genuinely, it's so funny to me when jon.elias shippers hate j.mart for the specifically stated reason that "martin isnt good for jon". Yes, the guy with realistic flaws and traits that occasionally create conflicts with Jons own flaws and traits is bad for him, so jmart is toxic. Jon deserves someone who treats him right.

In fact, you know who's good for Jon? The person who effectively used him as a puppet, made a plan centered on scarring him for life 13 times and executed it without remorse, then used his body to end the world, an experience so horrifying that Jon would rather literally kill everyone on earth than risk someone else feeling it too. Now that's a guy Jon deserves!

[crabussy]

IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING KIND TODAY!!! IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING GENEROUS TOWARDS OTHER PEOPLE!!! IS ANYBODY ELSE BEING KIND AND TRYING TO UNDERSTAND EVEN WHEN ITS HARD!!! IS ANYONE ELSE ASSUMING THE BEST OF OTHERS INTENTIONS AND RESPONDING IN KIND!!!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME