#i literally have no idea where i was going with this

[lucabyte]

even dogs pass the mirror test

[tumblingghosts]

finally got around to posting some fics on these headcanons!!

so your arch nemesis is a literal guinea pig

John doesn’t expect to warm up to the evil little creature. It happens by accident, on a lazy afternoon when the team is sprawled across the main room, half of them relaxing, and the other half also relaxing but pretending to be occupied. The guinea pig waddled its way up next to him, and just as John was about to voice a protest and tell Yelena to collect it, it curled itself up right on his lap. “Yelena,” John says. “Your devilspawn is on me.” In which John has beef with an actual guinea pig.

operation un-taco is a go! (that is a lie. it is not.)

“Okay,” Alexei says, frowning down at the shield. “Tougher than expected, but not to worry. I have another idea.” John made desperate eye contact with Bucky. Help me. Sorry, Bucky mouths back, looking infuriatingly entertained. In which John wants to un-taco shield, Alexei has many bad ideas, and Bucky is enjoying the show. Also Yelena has a guinea pig.

where is the LAMB SAUCE? (not in the smoothie, john hopes.)

“I, yeah. Okay, that’s fair,” says Bob, expression falling. His gaze drops down to the monstrosity in the blender as he stirs it half-heartedly with a spoon. The goop sluggishly clings to the metal utensil. “I was just…y’know. Kinda proud of this one.” Then, Bob glances back up at John from under his lashes with a kicked-puppy expression no one at his age should legally be allowed to pull off. John sighs. Loudly. Audibly. It’s the kind of sigh that precedes bad decisions and immediate regrets. “Alright,” John says, snatching the spare cup from the counter and shoving it under the blender’s spout. “Give me some.” In which John thinks he might actually die from Bob’s inability to cook.

basically john walker's misadventures in the watchtower LOL

YES the Thunderbolts have a fantastic team as family dynamic, yes they are living in Avengers tower, yes history is repeating itself and 2012 tower fics are so back. BUT!

instead of "Alexei eating poptarts" or "Yelena in the vents", we must come up with new headcanons and make history

Bob always does normal domestic chores, often getting in the way of important missions and spy business. "All I'm saying is Bucky is our best sniper" "It would be a much quieter assassination if I just slipped into the condo and cut his—" "Hey sorry guys, anyone have laundry? I'm doing a load"

Yelena and her guinea pig always eat meals together at the dining table. Everyone has their Chinese food or barbeque, meanwhile the rodent is loudly munching on a salad right beside them

Bucky is the mom and always keeps them on track. "Ava you have a dentist appointment in the morning, and bring Bob so they can add him to the insurance. Lena how was therapy? Alexei, I said no vodka until dinner"

Alexei is always coming up with new promotional ideas for the team. Cartoon tv show, cereal, toothpaste flavour...every day he thinks he's come up with the next big thing. Whenever they actually get put into production (Wheaties) he collects and saves it, and won't let anyone use a different product. (He threw out Yelena's frosted flakes and it took both Bucky and John to get her to stop attacking him)

Ava likes to phase and sneak attack her teammates at random. She claims it's for training but really she just thinks it's funny hearing them scream

John gets blamed for everything, even if it isn't his fault. Especially if it isn't his fault: "who ate the last bagel?" "John." "Where's my hair straightener?" "John had it." "Who's turn is it to unload the dishwasher?" "Johnnnn"

[sunderwight]

Okay, so the canonically confirmed Cang Qiong peaks are:

Qiong Ding (leader peak, CEO peak, politician/diplomacy peak, admin peak, etc)

Qing Jing (scholar & artists peak, knowledge peak, strategic advisor peak, etc)

Wan Jian (sword guy peak, blacksmith peak, armory peak, etc)

An Ding (logistics peak, servants peak, peak of the cang qiong labor party, delivery guys & messengers peak, supplies & catering peak, etc)

Xian Shu (gender segregation peak: girl flavor)

UNKNOWN

Bai Zhan (shounen anime peak)

Qian Cao (healer peak, pharmacy peak, first responders peak, etc)

Ku Xing (gender segregation peak: boy flavor, ascetic peak)

Zui Xian (alcohol peak)

UNKNOWN

UNKNOWN

So we only have three peaks that are entirely unnamed and unaccounted for. This has pretty good utility if you want to do a transmigration fic where Airplane and Shen Yuan are there as peak lords, but so are OG Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu. You can just give them two of the three mystery peaks, and then there's only one peak remaining for an OC and kapow, you've got all twelve peak lords sorted.

But the question of course, is what should these peaks actually be? What should they specialize in?

Fandom has argued in favor of a Beast Peak, and I actually endorse this idea, although I think specializing in demonic beasts is more of a Bai Zhan and Qing Jing thing. But while we can suppose that between An Ding, Qian Cao, and (probably) Zui Xian the agricultural needs of the sect are being met (or met sufficiently for what they can also supplement through trade), there's no clear existing peak to outsource things like training spirit animals or keeping any livestock that the peak might require. And hey, if there is a Beast Peak, then them also having some expertise in demonic beasts would be interesting.

I think the Beast Peak would slot in most logically between Xian Shu and Bai Zhan.

For the lowest peaks, things get more interesting. While there are obvious roles such as talisman making, barriers, musical cultivation, etc, most of those things seem like they'd either be covered by one of the other peaks (i.e. Qing Jing and musical cultivation) or else would be strange things for the sect to acquire so late, literally after the peak that specializes entirely in brewing.

But, that actually can work out, if we assume that these peaks have taken as specialties things that were previously secondary or tertiary interests to other peaks. Perhaps even owing their origins to particularly capable disciples from the other, more highly ranked peaks who showed such prodigal skill or innovation in that area that they were allowed to establish new peaks focusing on it.

For my money, I'd go with a Barrier Peak, specializing in protective barriers, talismans, and spiritual cultivation that shot off from Qing Jing during some long-prior generation. This peak could also be responsible for guard duties in the sect, basically sending disciples to close off unsafe or prohibited areas, to manage things like access to the various branches of the Lingxi caves, sealing off dangerous items, and (probably) helping to maintain existing barriers, arrays, and other such systems throughout the sect.

I think this peak would be a decent fit for Airplane, as it would once again situate him pretty close to matters of daily sect operations, and put him in position to know a lot of the secrets and goings on beneath the surface of things. So a plausible explanation for his authorial knowledge and insights would simply be, Barrier Peak are the flies on the wall of a lot of high-level matters. If someone breaks into a restricted area, they know about it. If someone wants something hidden, sealed, or disguised, they know about it.

Bonus angst: this would probably mean that the Barrier Peak's head disciple assisted in sealing a young Yue Qi inside the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su. If that's Airplane, well, that's twisting a knife a bit now isn't it?

Which just leaves peak no.12, which frankly could be any damn thing. After Booze Peak and Girl Peak, the field is wide open. Dance Battle Peak. Transit System Peak. Spiritually Infused Textiles Peak.

My personal favorite, though, is Sex Worker Peak. Not only because that is the most fanfic-y option, but also because it actually kind of makes sense.

The PIDWorld is just chock full of fuck-or-die tropes, which makes there are countless substances, ailments, curses, etc that can only be cured via sex. Not just for cultivators, but also for everyone else in the world. Like imagine you're an NPC magistrate or something just out there managing your district, having only the most tangential connection to the plot, and one day you're going for a walk and you trip and fall and manage to land right in a field full of sex pollen that cropped up like weeds overnight. Because that's just how this shit works, it doesn't wait for the protagonist to exist in order to activate, it's all got to be out there all the time in order to be there when the wife plot happens, and also for various experts to have accumulated all the mandatory exposition points about how it works.

But you're just some normal guy! You don't want to die of Horny, but the best way to clear this up is not just to have sex, but to have sex with a cultivator who is at least moderately good at using the exchange of spiritual energy to purge your body of the sex pollen poison.

Unless you're lucky enough to know someone, you're probably going to be in the market for professional help here, like even apart from all the other reasons people like to hire sex workers. This is a situation that probably happens fairly often and for which "hire someone to fix it and then move on with your life" is probably the ideal solution. As a bonus, a professional sex cultivation expert is probably also going to minimize your risks for unwanted side effect like STDs and pregnancy, too.

So, imagine we have Qian Cao peak struggling under the workload of all these requests for help with dual cultivation. The problem isn't prudery, but that this stuff is so commonplace it eats up time that could also be allocated to things like research and other medical emergencies. Plus, you have political leaders (kings, princes, emperors, etc) always demanding to be sent your "best" disciples to attend to them, when quite frankly their condition is something even an outer disciple could handle in less time than it would take them to travel out to their location, and these fuckers are not-infrequently liable to try and steal your people away into concubinage too.

One day then, much like with Qing Jing and the Barrier Peak, the Qian Cao peak lord of yore gets fucking fed up and is just like, this requires it's own department. Zhangmen-shijie we're starting a new peak. I'm not asking you I'm telling you. It's a medical peak entirely devoted to sex work. My best disciple at sex, who is in the running for Head Disciple status almost entirely because of this shit, is going to be the new Peak Lord. Any time some princess gets her vagina cursed and needs dick badly, the new peak are going to handle it, while I get to finally fucking finish my research into organ transplants.

And the sect leader of that era, knowing what was good for her, was like yes okay rubber stamp that we have twelve peaks now. Twelve's a good number we probably should have done this sooner anyway. What do you mean we don't have that much mountain? Eh, we'll haul some dirt in and make it happen.

Other Sex Worker Peak Thoughts:

Obviously, raising disciples from the age of ten upwards into this kind of work is controversial at best. Depending on tone, a fic author could either accept that grooming children for sex work was a historical practice and examine the fucked-up-ness of it all, or, we could go another direction and make a case that this is generally the peak which takes on older prospective disciples.

After all, dual cultivation is actually good at helping with setbacks and restoring a damaged cultivation base. You could argue for it being the ideal cultivation approach for latecomers. There could even be a precedent for adult disciples from the other peaks transferring to the Twelfth Peak/Sex Worker Peak if they show an aptitude for the work, and for disciples to temporarily join them as part of repairing or preventing damage from qi deviations.

This could also be a contributing factor to Shen Jiu being like, I have to not only be on Qing Jing Peak but also be the absolute boss of Qing Jing Peak with as few people able to gainsay me as possible, because he's terrified of being ordered to pimp himself out.

Not that he would be, though, because I imagine the sexpert cultivators are pretty well aware of how trauma works and who does or doesn't actually have the right temperament for their business, or what jobs within that business. It's their specialty, after all. If someone is going to have a panic attack and qi deviate over doing the job, that someone is not a good candidate for the job, or for these types of treatments overall.

Sometimes Twelfth Peak loses people on account of them falling in love with their clients or deciding to take some king up on his concubinage offers, but it happens less than one might think. After all, it's basically like working for the best brothel in existence. They have rigorous hygiene and healthcare standards, you get access to all the generalized medical care from Qian Cao, travel expenses are covered and you don't have to work out of your home if you don't want to, your food and housing is supplied by the sect, you're trained in cultivation and martial arts, with a shot at achieving immortality, and you don't even have to work every day because the jobs are contingent on what's being requested, not on you making rent money. In addition to physical cultivation, you can also make and sell tons of erotic art or "love tokens" and it will sell for a lot because of the social mystique of sexy cultivators. A pair of twelfth peak lord's panties probably goes for just as much as one of Shen Qingqiu's fancy calligraphy paintings. So unless you really want to live with some dude, switching over to depending on him for your upkeep doesn't seem all that appealing as a prospect.

Additional fun with this idea is that it would also potentially be an interesting peak lord role for either Airplane or Shen Yuan to end up in. Airplane would probably be like, well I guess this is karma for putting so much gratuitous smut in my stories, and then actually manage the hell out of the whole peak and enjoy himself by only taking on the jobs he actually cares to. Not a bad gig, especially compared to his previous grind. On the other hand, Shen Yuan's internal freak out and subsequent attempts to somehow be the Sex Peak Lord while not actually having any sex would be a potential comedy/suspense goldmine.

[bucketsorbueckers]

No Hard Feelings - Chapter 1

Paige x Azzi

Warnings: language, alcohol

Dual POV - 3.3K words

A/N: literally no idea what I’m doing. Back on this godforsaken site because women’s basketball has completely taken over my brain. This is my first pazzi fanfic ever and mostly just me trying to keep my mind busy before it short-circuits. Probably some grammar mistakes bc i cant read my own writing half the time. It’s all angst and yearning and that cursed feeling when your first love is also your best friend. Would love to know what you think <3

Summary: Azzi Fudd loved Paige Bueckers in the quiet moments—off the court, in the dark, when no one else was looking.

But loving someone the world adores is its own kind of loneliness.

Now, with a new season looming and history heavy between them, Azzi is learning: some people aren’t hard to love...just impossible to hold onto.

Paige’s POV

There was a particular kind of loneliness that came from standing in a room full of people who thought they knew you. Paige had grown used to being watched. The stares. The whispers. The phones held just low enough to seem subtle. But there was one gaze she couldn’t feel anymore. And somehow, that was the one that hurt.

Because in the blur of lights and music and bodies pressed too close, not feeling her eyes felt like its own kind of punishment. Like absence had weight. Like silence could bruise.

She shoved the screen door open with the heel of her hand. The night air hit her sharp and cold, far too bitter for September. It cut against her damp skin, made her flinch. She inhaled through her nose, slow and tight, trying to dislodge the pressure blooming beneath her ribs. That familiar, nameless weight she only ever felt around her.

There wasn’t a word for it. Just a hollow ache that stretched too wide. She hated it. Hated how it filled her chest, her lungs, her tired limbs—how it bled into every part of her until she wasn’t sure where she ended and the feeling began.

She pressed a palm flat against her chest and rubbed, hard, like she could scrape it loose. Force it out. But it stayed rooted. And when she closed her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she was holding herself together or holding something back.

“Paige?”

She flinched, eyes snapping open as she glanced over her shoulder. Nika stood on the porch, concern written all over her.

“It’s cold, Nika. Go back inside. I’m alright.”

She knew Nika wouldn’t listen, but still figured the lie was worth the breath it bought. Footsteps whispered over the brittle grass behind her. Nika joined her in the dark, arms folded tight against the cold.

Paige sighed and slipped off her jacket, draping it over Nika’s shoulders without a word.

“Told you to bring a jacket.”

“Always so chivalrous,” Nika murmured, a ghost of a smile in her voice.

Paige just shrugged and tilted her head back, eyes tracing constellations she didn’t know the names of.

The sky in Storrs always seemed a little louder. Stars so bright they looked like they might shake loose and fall. She tried to anchor herself in that—tried to let the sharp pinpricks of light distract her from the heat crawling up her throat, the ache coiled tight and unwelcome.

“We gonna talk about it,” Nika asked gently, “or just stand out here and stargaze?”

“Not shit to say,” Paige muttered, eyes never leaving the sky.

“You always have something to say.”

“Yeah, well,” Her voice was slightly thick and she sucked in a breath to control it. “Not about this.”

Nika just nodded, leaning into her, warm where their arms touched, and blessedly quiet. She didn’t push, didn’t pry and Paige loved her for that.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, silent and shivering, but eventually Paige let out a slow, shaky breath and turned to her.

“Back inside?”

“God, thank you,” Nika squeaked, already grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the door. “You need a drink.”

Maybe she did. But Paige had kept her distance from the bottles tonight. She wasn’t the kind of drunk who cried or screamed—she was the kind who laughed too loudly, leaned in too close, and let her secrets slip through a smile. Affectionate. Messy. A little too honest for her own good.

A terrible thing to be when you’re in love with your best friend. Or ex-best friend. Paige wasn’t sure what category Azzi Fudd fell into anymore. There wasn’t a word for it. Just a lingering ache and the way her name still tasted like something sacred and sharp on Paige’s tongue.

As she stepped through the door, the noise of the party crashed back over her. Bright lights, pounding bass, bursts of laughter that felt a little too sharp. Paige blinked, trying to adjust, to armor up again.

Nika didn’t give her time. She kept hold of Paige’s wrist and pulled her through the tide of bodies. People called out to her—hellos, shot offers, phones flashing up for pictures—but the words barely landed. Paige kept her gaze locked on the swing of Nika’s dark, glossy hair as she moved forward.

The kitchen gave them a sliver of breathing room. The music thudded through the walls, but it was quieter here, relatively speaking. Nika didn’t miss a beat, pressing a plastic cup into her hand like it was gospel.

“Drink.”

Paige looked down. The liquid inside was an aggressively unnatural color, and it smelled like bad decisions and lighter fluid.

“Drink, Bueckers. Or I’ll finish it off for you.”

That did it. Nika knew her too well. Paige might not have wanted it, but the idea of someone else drinking it—of Nika drinking it—was somehow worse. She tipped the cup back and winced as it hit her throat, bitter and burning. She coughed once, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“Tastes like regret,” she rasped.

Nika just grinned. “That’s how you know it’s working.”

Paige leaned against the counter, eyes scanning the chaos. The room was packed—too many bodies crammed into too small a space. Lights flickered, smoke curled in the corners, and every voice bled into the thud of the bass. It was all blur and static.

But still, somehow, she found her.

Dark curls were piled on top of her head like some chaotic masterpiece, two strands left loose in that way that felt accidental but probably wasn’t. Her lips were full, pink, stretched into a smile too wide for her delicate features but it worked. God, it worked. 

Her brown eyes lit up as she looked at the guy beside her, one hand resting casually on his arm like it meant nothing. Like she hadn’t once touched Paige that way. Like Paige didn’t still remember the exact weight of that hand, and what it felt like to be the center of her gaze.

Azzi Fudd was the kind of beautiful that left wreckage in its wake. The kind that rewrote gravity…pulled you in, tore you apart, and expected you to thank her for the privilege.

She was Paige’s ruin. And this—this cruel ritual of watching from the sidelines, of biting her tongue and feigning disinterest—was purgatory. A slow bleed. A soft unraveling.

Because how do you survive the thing that made you feel infinite, when it no longer looks your way? Azzi had once set her world on fire. Now Paige stood in the ash, smiling like it didn’t still burn.

Only lately, the smile was slipping. She wasn’t pulling off detached, or effortless, or even remotely okay. She wasn’t the cool, unbothered ex–best–something she wanted to be. She was a trainwreck. Messy. Obvious. Loud in all the ways she didn’t want to be. Undone. And trying like hell not to fall apart where Azzi might see.

To her left, Nika pressed another cup into her hand. Paige didn’t bother checking what was in it this time. Not when Azzi had just laughed, really laughed, at something he said. The guy who, by all appearances, had taken her place. 

So Paige tipped the cup back without thinking. Let the liquor scorch its way down her throat, sharp and mean. She welcomed the burn. It was something besides the hollow ache that had settled in her chest and decided to stay.

Azzi’s POV

Cam, by all reasonable measures, was handsome. Easy smile. Kind eyes. The kind of guy who asked if she needed anything before wandering off for drinks, who touched her lower back like it was second nature—not a performance.

It was fine. Safe. Which was exactly why Azzi let him stand there.

She laughed at something he said. Not because it was all that funny, but because it filled the space. Because silence, lately, made too much room for thoughts she didn’t need to entertain. Like the fact that Paige was here. And probably hadn’t even noticed her.

Not that it mattered. Paige hadn’t looked at her in weeks. Not during practice. Not in the hallways. Not once—not really.

Azzi had already tried. She’d waited in doorways, lingered after lifts, sent the texts that went unanswered. She’d left the door cracked open, just wide enough for Paige to step through. And maybe, stupidly, she’d hoped she would. But Paige didn’t chase her. Didn’t stop her. Didn’t fight.

So Azzi took the silence for what it was: an answer. Whatever they were…whatever that had been, it was over.

She leaned a little closer to Cam, let her smile stretch wider than it felt, and pretended her heart hadn’t made its choice a long time ago. 

Somewhere across the room, someone screamed. Sharp, high-pitched, probably from a game or a spilled drink, but it still made Azzi jump. Her eyes cut instinctively toward the noise, scanning the chaos.

She didn’t find the source. But she did find Paige.

Leaning against the counter like she wasn’t the most magnetic thing in the room. Solo cup in hand. Hair pulled back. Black pants slung low on her hips, just enough to reveal the soft slice of skin above her waistband. Azzi’s breath hitched before she could stop it.

People surrounded her, drawn in like always—smiling, laughing, hanging onto every word as she told some story Azzi couldn’t hear from across the room. Paige talked with her hands, animated and alive, fingers slicing the air like punctuation.

She could never sit still. Never stay still. Even now, holding court in the middle of a crowd, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, rolled her shoulders, tucked a strand of hair that wasn’t even loose. Restless in a way that made her electric.

Azzi watched, arms folded tight across her chest, trying not to stare.

Cam said something, and Azzi flinched, like she'd been caught peeking through a door she had no business opening. Which, in a way, she had.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck like she could scrub away the guilt. “What'd you say? It’s too loud in here.”

“I asked if you wanna get out of here.”

She blinked. Yes. Of course she did. That was the whole point of being here with someone like Cam. Someone steady, easy, uncomplicated.

And Paige was here, which made her want to leave. To breathe. To stop feeling everything all at once.

But Paige was also here. Which made it impossible to walk away.

Her eyes darted back across the room and she watched Paige throw back a shot. Paige didn’t really struggle to handle her alcohol but seeing her drinking so much still made Azzi nervous. She bounced lightly on her toes, restless, trying to figure out what to do with the feeling clawing up her spine.

“Can we stay a little longer?” she asked, turning to Cam. “Season’s coming up, and I have no idea how many more nights I’ll actually get to feel normal before it takes over my life.”

Cam smiled and Azzi relaxed slightly. He was everything she should want. Easy, dependable, kind. Paige had never been any of those things. Paige had been wildfire. Chaos wrapped in charm. And Azzi had been the fool who'd run straight into the flames, not thinking twice about how badly fire burned. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “But I think we’ll both need another drink to survive it.”

She grinned because he wasn’t wrong. He was steady, warm, uncomplicated. Exactly what she’d told herself she needed.

She watched him disappear toward the kitchen.

But Paige Bueckers’ fucking gravitational pull should be studied, because no matter how hard she tried to look anywhere else, her gaze was always dragged right back to her.

The blonde ringmaster in the center of it all.

Azzi watched her scan the room, watched her eyes land on Cam. Watched them drag down his body in that slow, assessing way. Watched the way her mouth curled into something smug and sharp. A smirk Azzi knew too well.

Then—God—those blue eyes shifted.

And locked onto hers.

The world shrank. Just a pindrop of existence now. Her. And Paige.

The room didn’t fall silent so much as it paused, like even the universe was holding its breath, waiting to see what she’d do. What they would do.

It was maddening, the way one look from Paige could still upend everything. Like Azzi had spent all this time laying brick after careful brick, building walls tall enough to forget her only for a single glance to blow the whole thing wide open.

She didn’t move. Neither did Paige. And for a moment that felt too long and not long enough, they stayed like that—frozen, suspended in whatever fragile thread still tethered them together. Like the world had cracked open just wide enough for this one impossible beat of stillness.

Then, someone tugged at Paige’s arm, and just like that, the thread snapped. Frayed by the outside world, like it always was. At that exact moment, Cam reappeared at Azzi’s side.

“For you,” he said with a mock bow, holding out her drink like it was an offering. 

It was adorable. The way his voice caught just slightly, the way he’d taken the time to find a cherry to drop in, just because he knew she liked them. He looked at her like she was gravity. Like she hung the moon. The way she used to look at Paige.

She shook her head, like she could rattle the thought loose—like she could shake Paige out of her bloodstream just by trying hard enough. Then she took the cup, smiled like it didn’t ache, and tipped it back with a long, burning sip.

When she leaned into Cam, it wasn’t for warmth. It was for distance. Across the room, Paige was already looking somewhere else.

And Azzi told herself that was a good thing. That it meant she was finally free. That it didn’t still feel like losing something sacred. She told herself all of that. And she almost believed it.

The party carried on around her—music pulsing, laughter echoing, the scent of something burnt wafting from the kitchen—but Azzi just sipped her drink and let Cam’s voice fill the space between thoughts she didn’t want to entertain.

He was mid-story about one of his teammates’ latest escapades, face animated as he tried to reenact the moment Tim had somehow ended up locked overnight in the stadium bathroom. Azzi giggled, genuinely, when he mimed the panic.

“Az!” She blinked, pulled from the easy rhythm of Cam’s story, and turned to see Jana waving her over, grinning like she knew exactly what she was interrupting. “Team picture, lovebird.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at her lips.

She turned back to Cam. 

“Let me hold your drink, superstar,” he said with a wink, already reaching for her cup.

She handed it over with a quiet, grateful smile and slipped her fingers into Jana’s outstretched hand.

Azzi let Jana tug her through the crowd, weaving past solo cups and sticky floors until they reached the cluster of girls already forming near the banner wall. Someone had strung up a makeshift sign that read UCONN, BABY in crooked silver letters.

“Alright, squeeze in,” someone called—probably A, based on the height and authority in her voice.

Azzi slid into place between Jana and Aubrey, laughing as someone elbowed her from behind. Everyone was loud and a little too tipsy and giggly to really get organized, but they gave it their best effort—arms draped, cheeks flushed, someone trying to shush the group and failing miserably.

“Wait, we’re missing—”

Before she could register the rest of the sentence, Paige appeared at the edge of the group.

“Well, glad to see no one waited for me.”

The voice was unmistakable. Light, cocky, soaked in that trademark Paige bravado that made people laugh before they even registered the joke.

“Your ego could use the hit, Bueckers,” Nika called out, and the group broke into laughter.

Azzi didn’t.

Instead, she turned, eyes locking on the source like they always did. Paige stood just a few feet away, solo cup in hand, hair a little messy in the best kind of way. 

And she was smiling. Not the polite kind. Not the camera-ready kind. The real one. The lopsided one that always looked a little too wide for her face, like she wasn’t used to joy taking up that much room.

Paige’s eyes swept over them, pausing just a second too long on the space beside Azzi before skimming past her like she wasn’t even there.

“Okay, you’re taking too long,” Jana huffed, rolling her eyes before grabbing Paige’s arm and dragging her into the narrow gap.

She shoved her into place—right beside Azzi. “There.” 

Their shoulders collided. Not a brush. Not a graze. Collided. Paige’s skin was warm and Azzi felt the contact like static under her ribs. Elbow to elbow. Hip to hip. She stiffened. Paige didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem to notice.

The camera was already counting down—someone shouting “three!” like this was all just a fun, forgettable night—but Azzi couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Paige stayed still beside her, perfectly composed, like they weren’t even touching. Like they hadn’t once fallen asleep shoulder to shoulder, hadn’t whispered secrets into the hollow dark between practices and regret.

Azzi forced her face into something passable. A smile that didn’t quite reach. But she couldn’t focus.  She could feel Paige breathing beside her—slow, steady, maddeningly unbothered. And she hated herself for wanting to look. Just a glance. Just enough to see if Paige was faking it too.

So she tilted her head. Just slightly. Just enough to catch a glimpse out of the corner of her eye. To see if Paige’s jaw was tight. If her hands were clenched like she knew they did when she was stressed. White knuckled and skin pulled tight. 

And that was when the flash went off.

Moments later, Ice was already scrolling through the burst shots, holding the phone too close to her face.

“Okay, this one’s actually good,” she said. “No one’s blinking...oh wait. Azzi.”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

Ice flipped the phone around. Everyone else was looking at the camera, grinning or laughing or holding up peace signs. And there she was, not looking at the camera. Not even close.

“Where were you even looking, Fudd?” someone laughed.

The group cracked up, tossing around a few harmless jabs.  Azzi forced a smile. Tried to play along. 

But she couldn’t stop looking at Paige who hadn’t taken her eyes off the photo. Not once. Paige’s gaze was narrowed slightly—studying, focused. Like she was seeing more than just a team picture.

Then, without warning, her eyes flicked to Azzi. Just for a second. But it was enough. 

Azzi’s heart shot into her throat, breath caught somewhere behind it. She almost stepped back, like the look had physically hit her.

And then Paige turned. Not back to the phone. To Nika. Who didn’t say anything. Just looked at Paige with an expression Azzi couldn’t quite read. Something careful. Knowing. Maybe even tired.

They stayed like that for a heartbeat too long. And then Nika nodded, subtle and sure, like they’d reached some silent agreement. She touched Paige’s arm and turned, ushering her away.

The sea of people seemed to part without effort. Without question. Parting for Paige. Like they always did.

She didn’t push, didn’t ask—just moved, and the world rearranged itself to make space.

And Azzi—who once knew the sound of her laugh in the dark, who once held pieces of Paige no one else even knew existed—stood frozen, watching her disappear into the crowd.

Just another wave drawn to Paige Bueckers without question, only to break against a shore she never meant to offer

[livvymd]

too drunk 4 you. (slight sexual scene)

i tried my best anon!!!! - cant be bothered finding the request sorry

what a handsome, handsome man

It was somewhere between Becky doing karaoke barefoot and Ethan attempting to twerk that you knew you’d gone too far with the drinks. But by then, you were already tipsy, giggly, and hanging off Talia’s arm like your life depended on it.

Harry, watching from across the room, just shook his head and sipped his beer — the same bottle he'd had in his hand for the past hour.

He wasn’t surprised when you stumbled over to him, glassy-eyed and grinning.

“Hi, boyfriend,” you purred, resting your hands on his chest like it was the only stable surface in the world.

“Hi, drunk disaster,” he teased, catching you before you tipped over.

You leaned in closer, whispering, “Let’s leave.”

He quirked a brow. “You done pretending vodka is water?”

You gave a solemn nod and poked his nose. “Time to go before I start a conga line.”

Harry huffed a laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Alright then, let’s get you home before that happens.”

In the car, the silence was peaceful, the soft hum of the radio blending with the occasional city noise. You sat in the passenger seat, your head tilted against the window, watching the world blur by in neon smears.

Harry glanced over. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “You look really hot when you drive.”

He snorted. “That the tequila talking or you?”

“Both,” you mumbled, biting your lip as you looked at his hands on the steering wheel.

You stared. "You’ve got really sexy hands.”

Harry chuckled low, glancing sideways. “That’s new.”

You licked your lips lazily and let your gaze wander down to his thighs — long, lean muscle under faded black jeans. You reached out without thinking, laying your palm flat against the inside of his thigh.

He froze. Just a beat — a hitch of breath, subtle, controlled — but it was there.

Your fingers teased slightly higher, pressing into the firm muscle.

“You’re literally trying to kill me,” he muttered, voice tighter now.

“M’just appreciating what’s mine,” you slurred, tracing your thumb along the inseam, dangerously close to something that made his stomach coil.

He cleared his throat. "You have no bloody idea what you're doing right now."

“Oh, I do,” you whispered, smirking. “Do you feel that too?”

Yeah, he did.

Your hand, even through the denim, was like a match striking the inside of his thigh. Warm, confident, and full of promise. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, heat crawling up his neck. Every nerve in his body lit up — not just from where you were touching, but from the image of you, lip-biting, teasing, eyes dark with want, sat in his passenger seat like you owned it.

He exhaled through his nose and grabbed your wrist — firm, but gentle — and pulled your hand into his lap to stop you. You blinked at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

His voice dropped an octave, the rasp undeniable. “You do this now, and we won’t make it home.”

Your thighs clenched at the low growl in his voice.

“I don’t care,” you whispered.

He leaned toward you for just a moment — close enough that his lips grazed your cheek when he spoke, his breath hot. “I care. And I’m not having our first time be in a damn Fiat with you half out your mind.”

Then he kissed your knuckles.

Soft. Purposeful. Restraining himself so hard it nearly hurt.

You melted back into your seat with a drunken sigh, your thighs rubbing together.

Harry kept one hand on the wheel and the other laced with yours the rest of the drive, his jaw tight the entire way.

And if he had to readjust himself at a red light?

Well, that was your fault.

When you got to the flat, Harry helped you out of the car and guided you inside, your heels clacking unevenly on the pavement.

“I’m not that drunk,” you insisted as you clung to his hoodie, tripping over the doorstep.

“You tried to seduce me while I was driving.”

“That’s love, not drunkenness.”

“You called me a sexy giraffe five minutes ago.”

“I stand by that.”

Inside the flat, the quiet hit instantly. Harry helped you into the bedroom where you immediately flopped face-down onto the bed.

“Can’t feel my knees,” you mumbled into the duvet.

“That’s ‘cause you tried to outdrink Vik. Rookie move.”

He crouched down and gently pulled your shoes off.

“M’feet are gonna sue me tomorrow,” you groaned.

Harry laughed under his breath and helped you sit up. “Alright, time for the world’s slowest makeup removal.”

You gave a lazy grin. “You’re so good to me.”

He grabbed the wipes and sat in front of you, legs crossed, fingers brushing your cheek.

“I’ve literally watched you cry over a broken eyeliner pencil, I’m not letting you sleep in this much makeup.”

He worked carefully, soft and patient, until your mascara and glitter were gone. Then he pulled off your earrings and necklace, setting them on the nightstand like they were fragile treasures.

You blinked up at him, fuzzy but full of love. “You’re gonna be such a good dad someday.”

Harry paused. “Bit random, but thanks?”

You laughed and reached up to boop his nose. “Just a thought.”

He chuckled, grabbed one of his oversized hoodies and held it up. “Alright, arms.”

You made an uncoordinated attempt to get your arms through and ended up with your head stuck in the neck hole.

“I’m dying.”

“You’re literally not,” he said, half-laughing as he fixed it and pulled it down over you. “There. You look cute. Like a hungover gremlin.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Then he helped you out of your skirt and replaced it with a clean pair of boxers before tucking you under the blanket.

As he went to stand, your hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve.

“Wait — cuddle.”

He smiled, kicked off his trainers and jeans, and climbed in beside you.

You immediately pressed your cheek to his chest with a soft sigh. “Y’know... I really do love you.”

He kissed your forehead, heart softening instantly. “I know.”

“Even when you stop me from seducing you?”

“Especially then,” he laughed.

You looked up at him through heavy lashes. “Still think you’re hot. Sexy giraffe.”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Sleep, you menace.”

As your breathing slowed, and your fingers curled against his shirt, he brushed his hand through your hair and whispered:

“Next time, I’m cutting you off after two drinks.”

A beat of silence.

“Still hot though,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ.”

But he was smiling. Wide and soft and entirely, hopelessly in love.

[shuastar]

can u do a one-shot with seungcheol x reader where they basically talking about all their like sexual fantasies and stuff, like a really fluff convo/healthy communication (cuz communication is sexy) The readers one is basically just wanting to be praised and overestimated and being called a good girl and stuff, u can decide what cheollies fantasy is!!

pairing: established relationship!seungcheol warnings: Discussions of sexual fantasies (praise kink, light dom/sub dynamic), healthy relationship themes, swearing, cuddling a/n: erm so idk if you wanted smut BUT i passed out asleep before i even got to writing it so... yeah!! but cheol is so cute here :< wc: 1.3k

The blankets were tangled around your legs, limbs a mess of warmth and bare skin, his arm lazily draped over your waist. The glow from the lamp cast a soft golden pool over the room, painting Seungcheol’s cheekbones in honey and shadow.

It was quiet. Not uncomfortable silence — the kind of quiet that meant peace. That you were safe. That nothing outside of this bedroom needed your attention.

His thumb traced circles on your hip absentmindedly. “You ever think about… stuff?”

You huffed a laugh against his chest. “That’s vague. I think about lots of stuff.”

“No,” he said, a little shyly, a little whine. “Like. Stuff you want.”

Your eyebrow arched. “You mean, like—”

“Mhm,” Seungcheol murmured, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “That kind of stuff.”

He was blushing a little, which was adorable, considering the way he usually manhandled you around the bed like you weighed nothing and kissed like he wanted to claim you, ruin you, steal your breath away. Seeing him shy like this, vulnerable, felt intimate in a different way.

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice soft. “Sometimes.”

He looked at you expectantly. You narrowed your eyes.

“You first.”

“Not fair,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Why do I have to go first?”

“Because you brought it up,” you giggled, carding your fingers through his hair. “Fair’s fair, Cheol.”

He groaned again, deeper this time, like he was suffering, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“…Okay,” he finally said, voice muffled against your skin. “Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

You twisted to look at him properly. “Promise.”

Seungcheol hesitated for a second, then pulled back to meet your eyes. “I think I really like the idea of… taking care of you. Like, properly. Not just during but… making you feel so good, so safe, you don't even have to think. Like, I want to spoil you, but in a way where you're never unsure, y’know?”

Your heart fluttered. Not just because it was hot — which, undeniably, it was — but because it was so him. Protective, intense, grounding. Everything you’d ever loved about him distilled into a fantasy.

“You’re already halfway there,” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “That’s not even a fantasy, that’s Tuesday night.”

He snorted, nose crinkling. “Yeah, but like… I want you to fully let go.”

There was silence for a beat.

“That’s hot,” you admitted, and he let out a small, relieved laugh.

“Okay,” he nudged. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip. “Mine’s kind of boring.”

“I literally just told you I wanted to spoil you and call the shots like a horny knight or something. There’s no boring here.”

You flushed a little, eyes darting away. “I just want to be… praised.”

Seungcheol blinked. “Praised?”

You nodded, more embarrassed than you expected. “Like. I want you to overestimate me. Tell me I’m doing amazing even if I’m not. Call me your good girl and tell me you’re proud of me for taking it so well. Like… like you mean it.”

His eyes softened. “That’s not boring at all. That’s adorable.”

You groaned and pressed your face into the pillow. “Don’t say it’s adorable.”

“It is!” he laughed, grabbing you and pulling you half on top of him. “You want to be told you’re a good girl? Baby, you are a good girl.”

Your breath hitched, just a little, at the casual way he said it.

“Oh?” he teased, noticing immediately. “You like that?”

You nodded wordlessly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Seungcheol grinned against your hair. “God, I’m gonna have so much fun with this.”

You peeked up at him, cheeks warm, eyes shining. “You really don’t think it’s lame?”

“Sweetheart,” he said seriously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think the sexiest thing in the world is knowing exactly how to make you feel good. Talking about it like this? Telling me what you want? That’s so fucking sexy.”

Your heart swelled, a little dizzy with affection. “You’re gonna use this against me, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he said smugly. “But only when you want me to.”

You kissed him then — slow, smiling into it, letting yourself feel wanted. Understood. The kind of kiss that promised hours more of this — talking, touching, discovering each other’s softest places.

He pulled back just long enough to murmur, “You’re such a good girl, you know.”

You whined into his mouth.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

[heartsforkatsuki]

rude.  ｡°✩ e. kirishima

pov ; your dad won’t give ur boyfriend of 8 years his blessing

pairing: eijiro kirishima x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, marriage, swearing, yearning lovesick kirishima!!!

word count: ~1.9k. song; rude by magic!

kirishima had fallen in love with you at first sight.

the minute he saw you in the entrance exams, he prayed you’d both get in together. he came up to you and wished you a very manly , loud, “good luck!!” with a hand on his hip and his other in a thumbs up.

you’d found it weird at first, and returned his enthusiasm with an awkward “thank you..?” and walked away.

now, 11 years later, looking back, you find it endearing, and can’t believe how long it took you to end up where you are now.

the minute he heard you woke up after the war, kirishima ran to your room and hugged you. not even 2 seconds before you could process him, he asked you to be his girlfriend and explained how he felt about you all along.

“[name], i’m so inlove with you. i have been since the entrance exams. i’ve been keeping that from you for three years.. so sorry. that wasn’t cool of me. i really, really hope you feeling the same way ‘cause if you don’t, i’ll bet i look pretty stupid right now.. you’re just so.. beautiful and captivating .. and strong. so strong.. and really cool just.. all around. what i’m trying to say is.. will you be my girlfriend? please? oh! dang, and i’m so so glad you’re okay! i should’ve started with that.. dang it.“

he said everything so rushed, you just sat there in your hospital bed blinking at him.

“i.. what?”

“its okay if you don’t feel the sa-“

you finally processed it all.

“no, no! i do! im sorry, it took me a minute to process.”

he rubbed the back of his head, looking at the floor. the tips of his ears were turning the same color as his hair now.

it was adorable.

“so…?”

“yes! yes, i’ll be your girlfriend!”

now, 8 years later, you’re still together and more in love than ever. you’ve succeeded at acquiring your dream job, and your boyfriend has been climbing up the hero rankings, sitting at #12! what could be better than this? there’s one problem though.. what’s been taking him so long to make you his forever?

it was approximately 8AM, you woke up to a message from your boyfriend saying he left early for work.

you sighed, reading through the text.

goodmorning, babe! if you’re reading this it’s cause you’re awake, which means you should have (hopefully) noticed your amazing, radical, the manliest of them all boyfriend is infact not laying down next to you! (that’s me btw) i had to go to work early babes, i’ll be home later! i love you baba girl😘😍😍!

you chuckled, texted back a heart and an okay , be safe before you went to check the calendar.

it was saturday.

eijiro almost never, ever worked on saturdays unless there was an emergency. he wouldn’t even check in at the agency.

so of course, the first thing you did was check the news.

nothing really, just small criminals and no big villains. what could he possibly be doing?

so the next thing you did was check his location. not because you’re crazy, but you were genuinely worried. you never ever checked his location, you didn’t need to. but he insisted to give you it just in case, so you never had to doubt.

currently, he was on super close to Osaka, and it said he’d been driving there for about two hours now.

Osaka? What the hell is in Osa…

your parents. your parents lived in Osaka, nobody else you guys knew lived there. when you saw exactly where he was, you saw he was literally pulling up on your parent’s street.

what the hell?

eijiro pulled up in the driveway to your parents house, his palms clammy on the steering wheel.

he’d been thinking about doing this for a while now, but he knew just how your dad felt about him.

your dad was a very old-fashioned man, didn’t exactly love the idea of you dating, much less marrying, a hero.

he didn’t want there to be an accident, only to end up with a depressed, grieving, hurt daughter.

and he made sure you knew it.

“he’s gonna do something stupid one day, [name], and then you’ll regret it.“

you’d always ignored him, and eijiro was forever grateful.

he tried as hard as he could to change your dad’s views on heroes, explaining how passionate he was, and why he decided on it in the first place.

he never really budged though.

now, kirishima was standing at your parents’ doorstep at 8am on a saturday morning, in his best suit, tailored just for this moment, and a big bouquet for your mom.

he brushed his hands on his dress pants and pushed the doorbell button.

he stood there for a minute looking at his shoes, until he heard the lock turn.

when he looked up, he was met with your dad’s resting bitch face. except now it was ten times worse, seeing as it was 8 in the morning.

“ah.. goodmorning, mr. [surname].”

“eijiro? it’s 8am.” your dad crossed his arms, spreading his feet.

“i know.” he lifted his hand, handing the flowers over to your father. “those are for mrs. [surname].”

“thank you? why are you here, young man?” he scowled.

“i came because i wanted to ask you.. for your blessing.” he rubbed the back of his neck, “to marry [name].”

“i love your daughter more than anything, and i’ve kept her waiting for 8 years now. i’ve been inlove with her for 11 years now, and i want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

your dad scoffed to that, “which i’m sure won’t be long, eijiro. your job is gonna end up with my daughter heartbroken.”

“sir, please, i’m safe! i love your daughter, plea—”

“over my dead body. no. until i die, you aren’t marrying my daughter.” he slammed the door in front of eijiro.

“fuck..” he sighed, running a hand through his hair before walking back to his car.

“I just don’t get why he’s so rude to me.” kirishima groaned, placing his beer on the table infront of him.

“he’s just an asshole dude, ignore him.” bakugo responded, rolling his eyes.

“hey! that’s my future father in law you’re talking about.” he whined, taking a swig of beer.

“he won’t be if you keep paying attention to the bullshit he’s spouting.” the blonde picked up his own beer, drinking it.

“dude, i’m gonna marry her anyways.. i just need to convince him.” kirishima insisted, his hands balling into fists.

the week after that, kirishima did the same thing as he did that last saturday morning, he bought a brand new suit and showed up with an bigger bouquet.

the door creaked open, and he made sure to get the first word in

“can i have your daughter for the rest of my life? please. i love her, i can provide for her as i always have, and i’ll give my life to make her happy.”

he prayed your father would say yes, chanting it in his head.

“no.” he slammed the door, again.

“hey babe, why does your dad hate me so much?”

it was now two weeks after the first visit, and you hadn’t asked him about why he went to go see your parents yet.

“he doesn’t hate you…” you curled on the couched next to him, stroking his hair, “he’s just looking out for me, babe.”

“why does he have to hate me in order to look out for you?” he pouted.

“he doesn’t hate you babe!”

the following week, he repeated his attempts.

another new suit, and a bigger bouquet. he stood at the door, determined to walk away with your fathers blessing this time.

one thing changed though, this time your father didnt open the door, your mom did.

“Oh. goodmorning, mrs. [surname]. how are you?” he asked, lifting the bouquet to her.

“goodmorning, eijiro. i’m well, thank you for asking, and for the flowers dear.” she smiled.

“is mr. [surname] home?” he asked, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants again.

“yes, he is. let me get him for you.”

she stepped away from the door, and soon, your dad appeared. his expression was unreadable this time.

“you again?” he grunted.

“yes, sir. i know you’ve said no—three times now—but i love your daughter. i’m going to marry her. with or without your blessing… but i’d rather it be with.”

your father stayed silent.

“i’ve never loved anyone the way i love her. she’s the first and only person i’ve ever truly wanted to build a future with. i want to wake up next to her every morning. i want to take care of her, support her, grow old with her. and i promise you, with everything i have, i’ll protect her.”

your dad sighed, long and heavy.

“…you’re a persistent little bastard, huh?”

kirishima swallowed, “only for her, sir.”

your father stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside.

“come in.”

kirishima blinked, stunned. “w-what?”

“you heard me. come in.”

he followed him inside, nervous and stiff as a board.

they talked for over an hour. about life, about you, about the future. your father asked hard questions, challenged him, and at one point even asked if he was truly willing to give up being a hero someday if it came down to choosing between his life or yours.

without hesitation, kirishima answered, “i’d choose her. every time.”

eventually, your dad nodded slowly and let out another sigh.

“…fine. you have my blessing.”

kirishima nearly collapsed from relief.

“but you better not make her cry. not once. or i swear—”

“never, sir. never.”

a few days later, you came home to find a trail of glowing red petals leading to your backyard. confused, you followed them.

and there he was.

in a perfectly fitted black suit, holding a small, red velvet box in his hand, his other hand tucked nervously into his pocket.

the yard was lit up with fairy lights, and small candles floated in a heart-shaped pond he’d made with some help.

“[name],” he said, voice cracking just a little, “i’ve loved you since the day i met you. you’re everything to me. my best friend, my strength, my peace. i want to spend every second of my life making you feel as loved as you make me feel.”

he got down on one knee.

“will you marry me?”

you cried. of course you did.

dang it, he already messed up the first rule.

but you said yes so fast, he didn’t even finish opening the box before you tackled him with a hug.

later that night, you sat together under the stars, your head on his shoulder, your hand in his—now with a sparkling ring on it.

“so,” you whispered, “what changed my dad’s mind?”

he smiled and kissed your forehead. “i just told him the truth. and refused to leave until he believed it.”

you giggled. “you’re so stubborn.”

“only for you, babe.”

[luvyeni]

whore in theory ๑. ( 스트레이키즈 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── skz thinking you’re innocent but what you’re saying is totally opposite…

( 対 ) ot8!skz + fem. reader wc. 1k genre smut · contains! mentions of sex , language , no actual sex mature content. / back to library

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 방찬 : bang chan﹚ .ᐟ

his ears are bright red; he laughing his ass off not to embarrass you , but he’s in such a state of shock. “ah you’re so cute.” he pulls you into his lap , kissing your cheek. “someone has been doing some reading.” whispering in your ear. “where did you learn this from princess?” yeah he’s turned on , but he also thinks it’s such a funny thing , hearing you speak so dirty even though you have no idea of what you’re talking about. rubbing your thighs. “you me to teach you how to do a few of those things hm?” his voice darker than before. “you gotta be a good girl though.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 리노 : lee know﹚ .ᐟ

he loves this shit bad , it turns him on — hearing the filthy shit you say throughout the day , it doesn’t phase him , he just smirks .. because he knows you have no idea what you’re talking about , he literally taught you everything you know. he’s gonna play with you , pinning you down to your bed as soon as you get home. “you’re so shocked.” he smirked. “wh-what are you doing?” he’s got you sweating and flustered. “remember everything you were saying earlier? you sounded like a whore.” he said. “i wanna see you do it.” you gulped. “come on show me.” slowly unbuckling your pants. “i want you to do everything you were talking about.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 창빈 : changbin﹚ .ᐟ

much like lino , he’ll let you keep going , the smuggest look on his face , arms folded — but when he gets you home alone , he’s quick to pin you down on the bed. “b-binnie.” you whimper. “isn’t this what you want?” his head tilting to the side in amusement. “for me to pin you down and use you? isn’t that what you said?” he said. “i’m only doing what you asked of me baby.” grinding his hips , you whimper. “what kind of man would i be if i don’t satisfy my woman? not a good one that’s what i know.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 현진 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

just a giggling mess , he can’t believe how dirty you’re talking right now. how did you even know what to say , he never even did anything that you’re saying… but now he wants to try. “you sound confident pretty.” he says. “do you know what you’re saying right now?” your words are finally catching up to you. “no-no.” the giggle he lets out makes your stomach drop. “but you were sure , you want to show me what you meant?” he said beckoning you over to sip on his lap. “you’re shaking like a leaf.” he said , rubbing your thighs. “let’s try a few of those naughty things you were so sure of a few minutes ago.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 한 : hanji﹚ .ᐟ

he’s turned on and shocked from the first comment that comes out of your mouth. “baby.” he’s scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “hmm.” you don’t even know what you’re doing to him , turning to him. “what’s wrong?” you said completely oblivious to what you were doing to him. “please stop talking like that.” he can’t take it. “you’re turning me on.” he said , cheeks flushed. “sorry.” you said , unclear of what to do. “do you need my help?” he nods. “fuck yes , yes i do.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 필릭스 : felix﹚ .ᐟ

he’s in shock; his sweet baby talking like this? much to his knowledge the only thing you knew how to do is lay back and be pretty while he eats you out — but the words you were saying; my god he was hard as hell now. “princess come here.” he watched you smile , as you plop down in his lap , eyes widening as you feel how hard he is. “fe-felix you’re– why?” he does a little smirk. “why? because all the shit you were saying earlier that’s why.” he said. “oh i didn’t know.” “of course you didn’t , but you’re gonna be a good girl and learn today okay.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 승민 : seungmin﹚ .ᐟ

another one like lino , he knows you’re lying , but hearing you say how much you want to ride him — it intrigues him , he wants to see you do it. so as soon as you get home he’s telling you to go to the room. “strip.” you’re confused because so far the only thing you’ve done is suck him off. “wh-why?” he scoffs. “didn’t you say how much you want to ride my cock?” he said. “what is it you said? i won’t be able to last long if you ride me.” he said , laying down , pulling his pants down enough to release his cock. “so come on, sit on my cock and ride me.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 아이엔 : i.n﹚ .ᐟ

at first he’s flustered; why are you saying such things even though he knows that he basically has to explain everything to you when it comes to sexual stuff. after a while , he starts to get turned on , hearing you say all this stuff … so he wants you to repeat it , while he’s replicating exactly what you were telling him. “no , no don’t shy away now.” grabbing your cheeks forcing you to look up at him. “you said you wanted to choke on my cock right , make a mess right?” he said with that crazy smirk. “come on baby let me teach you , teach you how to do exactly what you said.”

©️LUVYENI

[neeeooon]

i think otoya is the kind of person who is aware that he is capable of changing his ways with girls when he finds the “one”, but he’s never truly believed in that. but when when like a girl transfers it’s quite literally love at first sight and he wants to change for her. you can decide whether she gets with him or not, thanks so muchh !! ^^

aww yes i love this idea tysm!!

love of my dreams

otoya eita x fem!reader. ft. karasu and yukimiya. love at first sight. fluff, crack, otoya is a bit weird at the start, cussing, slight death/kms joke at the end. wc: 810

“fuck.”

otoya just told karasu and yukimiya how much he liked his bachelor life. how he wasn’t ready to change. to settle down.

and then you just had to walk through those damn doors.

“fuck.”

you had a guide at your side, telling otoya you were a transfer student. his eyes were glued on you, and every step you took, unable to tear his gaze away. he wanted to know your name, where you transferred from, and what you were studying. probably something similar to him, as you were being toured through his building.

a sharp jab caused him to curse again, and otoya shot a glare at karasu and the cheap plastic butter knife he’d been stabbed with. “yer staring.”

“of course i’m staring. i’m in love.”

“you don’t do love,” yukimiya chimed with a snicker before shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth. “that’s your whole thing.”

otoya didn’t want it to be his whole thing anymore—not after seeing you.

he continued to think about you through the rest of his lunch, then his classes, his drive home, and even while he was texting yukimiya for answers to their finance homework. he didn't believe in love at first sight, at least he didn't think he did. you changed that so quick, otoya was still reeling six hours later.

otoya: i need her number

otoya: pls be my spies pls pls pls

karasu: i never thought i'd see down bad otoya like for real and not just to get pussy

otoya: is that a yes

karasu: for all we know she has a boyfriend

yukimiya: or a girlfriend

otoya: GODDDD IM GOING INSANE I NEED HER SO BAD

otoya: she's the one for me. i'm done. no more playboy otoya.

yukimiya: if you're serious. REALLY SERIOUS. i'll help

karasu: same ig

otoya: there's a special place in blowjob heaven for you two 🙏

and two days later, with the help of yukimiya and karasu, otoya had intel. they also told him you had a gap in your schedule and ate lunch by yourself in the dining hall.

and when otoya saw you? he was nervous.

your hair was pulled away from your face, the eraser-end of your pencil tapping your lips as you concentrated so hard on your homework that a delicate crease formed between your brows. otoya wanted to smooth it out with his thumb and kiss the spot instead.

shaking his head, his grip tightened around his sandwich as he slowly approached you. when you looked up, otoya felt his face grow hot. "sorry to bother you. is this seat taken?"

you rapidly shook your head and gestured to the chair. "no, no, you can take it! just make sure you put it back—"

"i mean, is it okay if i sit here?" he quickly cut off with a small grin, his chest fluttering when you blushed in embarrassment.

you dropped your pencil to hide your face in your hands. "oh my god, i'm so... yeah, yes, you can sit here." shaking your hands out to release some of the stress, you flashed a bright smile. "i'm y/n."

“otoya,” he greeted casually, as if a flock of butterflies didn’t make a home in his stomach.

you repeated his name quietly to yourself before nodding. “i think i’ve seen you in this building before. what are you majoring in?”

when he told you, your eyes lit up so brightly that otoya swore they glittered. “no way! me too! weird that we don’t have any classes together, though. maybe next semester!”

the rest of the time spent before your next class was filled with the two of you talking. otoya thought he'd fail at the genuine small talk thing since he didn't want to use any of his usual lines on you, but he was surprised at how easy it was. whenever he got quiet, you were right there to pick up where he left off.

"this might be too soon," otoya started as he walked you to your class. "but would you want to hang out again tomorrow?"

your smile faltered slightly, and otoya was ready to jump over the rail and fall to the first floor. it wasn't too far down, so he probably wouldn't die, but if he hobbled in front of a truck right after—

"i don't have this class tomorrow," you explained gently. "but would thursday work instead?"

fireworks exploded behind otoya's eyes, along with the relief of no longer needing to die. he readjusted his grip on his bag strap and flashed you a slow grin. "thursday works. same spot as today?"

you beamed. "yep! oh, and here's my number, in case i'm late or we have to reschedule!"

otoya knew, as you entered your name into his phone with a cute emoji, that he would eventually die a happy man.

[brain4stew]

I was wondering if u could do something with this post https://www.tumblr.com/brain4stew/776674413350404096/forsaken-killers-with-a-deceased-so-perchance

But make it like a part where boom their body's are suddenly gone and now there suddenly alive but the killers don't believe it at first!! if possible then just a lil fluff.

I really wonder where you people get ideas from… 🧍‍♀️ DID YOU STEAL MY BRAIN JUICE?! 😦😦 /J

But yes, I shall make this for you, anon. 🙂‍↕️

Those that do not know what post the anon is referring to, it is,

This one.

(Note: Characters may be ooc, since I do not know how the characters actually will work/be like!)

That being said, here is your request under the cut! ;

1x1x1x1 (1x4).

We all know that this creature is the embodiment of hatred, right? And he had you as their lovely s/o.

However, you were dead. You were a minion for a while, a special minion.

But after a round where 1x4 was the killer, and she killed every survivor, and won. Imagine her shock, when you’re gone.

Now just imagine, his hatred but now tenfold.

Way more relentless in rounds, bringing actual hell on their victims. (Survivors.)

But one specific round, she sees you alive.

He doesn’t believe it of course, and kills you for a few rounds. Before he notices that very same look you always have, when you were alive, and didn’t die.

Another round, and they immediately starts rushing to find you. Ignoring every and all survivor now, surprisingly.

When she finds you, oh, when she finds you again… She won’t leave you be alone ever again.

He’s practically growling at any and all survivor and killer within your vicinity. He just doesn’t want you to die again…

In private, they’ll be scared to touch you, let alone hold you. But as you reassure them that you will be alright, they can’t help but hug you, hold you close, and pepper your face with kisses.

You both fell asleep with each other again, cuddled up with each other. 1x4 obviously is the big spoon, scared that you’ll be gone the moment she wakes up again.

John Doe.

This poor, confused and corrupted guy…

His corruption was far too bad when you were dead. That his corruption ended up corrupting the killers and survivors a bit.

He doesn’t notice that you’re alive, as he kills you for many rounds, until a survivor yells out your name, to warn you of him.

He pauses his hand, mid-strike, stiffening up.

Did he hear that correctly? His s/o? Alive again? Couldn’t be…

When he glances down at you, he is arguably… Shocked and confused.

He lowers his hand, hesitating for a while-

You ended up tackling him down into a tight hug. He’s shocked by your sudden strength, how did you manage to tackle him down?!

He’s glad you’re alive however. So each round where you’re in it, he searches for you, and stays by you everytime. His corruption gradually becoming stable again.

(The survivors and killers that were affected by his corruption also became free of the corruption.)

He glares at anyone, everyone and anything near you. He quite literally does not trust anything near you, afraid that you’ll die once again.

In private, he’s clingy as hell. He always has to have at least one singular claw on one of your fingers.

He’s hugging you, and cuddling you quite a lot. He missed you, a lot.

Jason.

Jason was still and is still killing each and every survivor, until his mother tells him that your body, is gone.

He’s scared, livid also! Did your body get taken? No, because then someone would have to go inside his room, and search for both you and his mother’s head…

He’s more feral this time, killing anyone and everyone. He doesn’t notice it, as he kills you for a few rounds, until…

His mother, recognized you. She immediately tells him to stop, and to look closely at you.

He does as told, stopping his attacks, and looking at you closely. Oh. My. MOTHER. (😇)

He drops his machete, and chainsaw, before rushing to you, and hugging you closely. Not caring at all that the survivors are looking.

In private, you and him will be making diy’s, knitting, learning and listening to his mother. Listening to what she has to say about her youth, and learning how to do and make things.

He also hugs you a lot, tensing up whenever a survivor or killer is nearby you.

Mafioso.

He’s relentless in rounds. Killing any and all survivor, in debt or not, he does not care.

He always watches over his goons, practically glaring death daggers at them, if they ever are close to your capsule.

Imagine his shock and horror when his boss, Eunoia, tells him that you are gone. You disappeared. Your dead body, gone, vanished.

He immediately rushes back to your capsule and his boss after his round of being the killer, and sure enough… You’re gone. Eunoia has already sent some goons to look for you, whilst having trackers on each and every one of them.

The more rounds he is in, the more frustrated, angry and mad he is. Where did you go? Did one of his goons betray him again? Did a survivor take you? Did a fellow killer take you away? No, Eunoia would have seen, heard and taken care of them.

So imagine his reaction, when you tackle him from behind, hugging him tightly from behind, and calling him that lovely and sweet nickname you gave him that he remembers dearly.

He stops in his tracks and turns around to face you, taking his hat off, and placing it on top of your head, as he hugs you back.

He holds you, hugging you for a while, before he calls his most trusted goons. (Soldier, Contractee, Consigliere and Caporegime.)

Their shock when they see you again, they immediately ask Mafioso if they can hug you too. When they get a confirmation from Mafioso, and he backs up from you.

You’re immediately tackled down into a group hug. The guys crying and hugging you, as you smile, and hug them all back, telling them that you’re okay and safe. And how you missed every and each one of them.

You look up at Mafioso, and grin, you reach up an arm, and pull him down into the group hug. (He’s surprised by the unexpected gesture and strength, so much so that he actually stumbles.)

In private, you and his goons are making bracelets, items and everything you all can make together.

You, Mafioso and his goons listen to Eunoia, occasionally asking questions, and giving advice.

(Whenever you’re supposed to be sat on the ground, you’re instead sat on Mafioso’s lap. He put you on his lap.)

Mafioso’s bunnies squeak and whine when they finally see you. You’re immediately swarmed with bunnies, and Mafioso sat behind or beside you.

In private, Mafioso will hold you like you’re something fragile, afraid that you’ll die and disappear again.

He doesn’t show it much, but whenever he’s with you, or Eunoia, he lets his bunny form show. You and Eunoia are the only ones he trusts to be able to help groom him in his bunny form/state.

He’s also cuddling you a lot, even nuzzling you a bit too, he’s glad you’re alive and back again, but he’s still scared it’ll happen again.

Eunoia also treats you like you’re fragile glass. She knows how vulnerable people are, and she’s afraid she’ll damage you.

(Anyway, thank you for requesting this, anon! 🫶)

[munv]

Cld i also request for diasomnia + ignihyde w raiden ei! like reader really love ur character! reader fics AKAJSJSHDH sorry if its too much </3

DIASOMNIA / IGNIHYDE X RAIDEN EI !READER

No because thank you SO much for requesting this. My inconsistency was coming back and I literally needed something that would make me work

MALLEUS

He notices you immediately. It's in the "thunder literally crackles around me too so I noticed yours from like 20 miles away" type of thing. Ancient fellow meets ancient fellow and it's one of those times where conversation isnt necessary. He realizes that you might also not be human after a while and he questions you about it.

He's a little scared that you might not take a liking to him anymore since he doesn't want to come off as brazen, yet he cant help but be curious.

Only to find out that you're a god of you're own country? He stares for a moment, slowly processing it and goes "is that so?". Not in the "I don't believe you and you're crazy way". It's in the "we now have a lot more in common" type of way.

He indulges in your oddly specific sweet tooth, bringing you little snacks and stuff to try together since you both have no idea what normal people eat.

LILIA

He laughs. In your face. First meeting.

Lilia is a good 700+ years old. So when he was face to face with someone who has been one for over 3000? He questioned for a moment if he would become that stoic (miserable) by the time he finishes 1000.

He pokes around your exterior, trying to see if he could possibly rile up a storm out of you. You dont strike him, so he takes that as a go ahead to keep it up. He teases you endlessly, noticing how you are exactly like malleus and way behind on trends and such. Although he isnt as shut in as the both of you, he is somewhat well versed in the latest things.

He doesn't find himself surprised when he gets you a phone and it ends up sparking up because you couldnt control your quiet excitement when you got it.

SILVER

He treats you gently, and he finds himself careful to not overstep any boundaries you have placed around yourself. Not because he finds himself scared, but because he genuinely respects you. He nods when you speak a few words, he opens doors for you, braids your hair under trees.

You're surprised when a bunch of animals follow him around, especially when he actually does a good job in braiding your hair. The flower additions into it? You love that too.

SEBEK

If you thought that silver was your no.1 admirer? you got another thing coming. Sebek basically explodes. Because at first? he sees you as a rival to Malleus, but over time? he grows to respect you if not, just as much. He begs you to train him and share your ever so "godly discipline". He constantly screams and yells about your noble aura and your gentle heart.

You've never met someone who could be so loud, yet loyal at the same time. Still, you give in and hand him a sword and just tell him "strike"

It's like that meme where its the avatar's saying "I can't help you bro, you jus gotta feel it". He never gives up though, and continues even if hes failing your training regimen, you've began to respect that about him, despite his outlandish tendencies to basically preach your praises on campus.

IDIA

He has a total meltdown. He hides, he panics, he screeches. "THATS A LEVEL10000 BOSS?? BRO WHY ARE THEY HERE?". Whenever he texts you, he realizes that you're one of those people who just give simple responses. "Yes." "No." "Thank you." “Why are you like this”

Idia thrives online but when he actually has to meet you face to face? he's a little nervous. Scratch a little— He basically screams bloody mary when you slightly lift your hand. Yet, he still enjoys your company. Despite him referencing you to his many different video game bosses and being chronically online with his odd slang? He finds comfort in your humble yet demanding ways.

"you're highkey scary but..lowkey chill?" You blink at him. "yes?"

He turns you inner realm into a video game setting.

ORTHO

Ortho finds himself doing extensive research on you. Your powers, your limitations, where you're from, If it's possible for you to overblot, all of the above.

He cheers and zooms around you in excitement whenever he sees you. Maybe he's just attracted to the lightning you emit, who knows. He likes hugging you and such.

If he wants more research? he goes to you, hands over some dango, and starts scanning you for 6 hours straight. Idia wonders how its possible for you to stay still for that long.

It comes with the meditation you do in your inner realm ever so often, you explain, and ortho is just scanning you casually without a care in the world.

He really likes the little zaps that you give him, he finds it ticklish, and he cute little giggles fuel you even more. “That tickled, again!” You blink, sigh, and zap him again, listening to him squeal in glee.

“Again!”

You smile at his childlike wonder

[thetxtdevil]

Could you bring back Blueberry Boy! Kai? 🫐 I dream about him every day... btw! Congratulations on the 1k, more than deserved!! Your content is amazing <3

1000 Followers Bash - Blueberry Boy Kai Continued Thoughts

nsfw/mdni content

What do you want to know about Blueberry Boy Kai?

Last time he got Strawberry Shortcake pregnant 🤭 No surprise, he's so messy and addicted. It wouldn't be shocking if he kept getting you pregnant, you're not against it because you're also addicted to him. You love the way Kai's long fingers prep you, then his cock stretches you, then his fingers are back to shove his blueberry scone cum back into you. Sometimes he'll lick you clean, coming up to kiss you so that you can enjoy the taste of his salty yet sweet cum.

However, he's all new to the world of sex; a lot of times, he just lets the aphrodisiacs of your strawberry arousal control him, making up new ways to please each other. But he wants to do this right. Blueberry Boy Kai wants to be so skilled at making you cum without instincts but from knowledge 🤓

Picnic with the boys seems innocent from afar, but most people wouldn't want to eat their lunch while overhearing what they talk about. Sweet Blueberry Kai brings a scented pen and colored paper to write down answers to his questions.

Gingerbread Taehyun claims that being rough gets his girl going. Lemon Drop Soobin agrees, saying that squeezing plushy skin is satisfying and pleasurable for them. Peachy Beomgyu believes that reading reactions is key, or letting them read smut also gives them ideas. However, Watermelon Sorbet Yeonjun warns everybody to be careful, as they're significant other might turn on them and tease, ruin you until dry.

A little more information of curling fingers in your cunt and different motions to stimulate your clit. If Kai wasn't blushing a deep shade of blue already, the advice to "edge" you got him rolling into a ball. He doesn't think he can do it, literally, he loves seeing you cum so how is he going to stop that from happening.

Later that day, Blueberry Boy Kai arrives at the big strawberry cottage, he yells out that he's home. Your cute self comes skipping to him and hugging him. Dainty arm wrapped around his broad body, making Kai's blue blush come back. "Hi, Strawberry, I missed you." He says softly.

"I missed you, too." You say into his neck, leaving light kisses on his neck.

Kai wanted to melt right there, wanted to pick you up and have you in bed. Before he could do so, you were already grabbing his arms, dragging him to your destination. Kai's mind fills with what his friends had to say, be rough, dominate her, she'll like that, edge. Kai stands his ground, making you recoil, falling onto the blueberry.

Looking up to see Kai's intimidating glare, you pout and ask, "W-whats wrong?"

You gasp as Kai quickly swoops you up, carrying you to the kitchen, the closest room, and a place where your scent seems to reside. His senses were already clouded by your innocent whines. Plopping you on the countertop, flipping up your skirt, spreading your legs to fit his hip between them. Letting you desperately grind against him, searching for some blissful friction. Whimpers and whines increase as seconds pass. Kai gives in to a simple touch.

His painted blue fingertips rub your wet clothed cunt. Delicious circles excite your clit, every so often his fingertip dips into your hole. You moan, throwing your head back until you sense Kai teasing his touch around the hem of your panties. Once a bratty whine escapes from your throat, Blueberry Kai stops everything.

Your eyes widen on your flushed face. Chest heaving from the lack of getting off. Usually your good boy, Kai, is always determined to make you cum, once or twice or three times before getting himself off. But this was different, Kai wasn't in a rush to have Strawberry Shortcake make her cream, he wanted to keep it from happening until he thought it was best to let it go.

Blueberry Kai kneels in front of you, looking up at you through his dark blue lashes. Slowly stripping you from your panties, your feet kick, trying to take the garment off fast. This action resulted in Kai forcefully holding your legs and biting your inner thigh. The yelp you make and your stiffening position signal Kai that you are ready to listen.

Once you were fully exposed, the blueberry boy leaves kitten licks on your outer lips. You lay your head on the top cabinets, focusing on stopping your whine from coming out. Your patients payed off when you feel Kai deepening himself into your pussy. Making out with your folds, tongue everywhere he can get it, sucking your sensitivity. You sink your hands into the sapphire blue hair of the man devouring you.

Kai has to fight against your hold on his head, he can feel your cunt pulsating close to cumming. Hearing your moans, tasting your sweet arousal, Kai was losing himself fast. Now fighting with himself, needing to stop you from coming undone. He eventually does so once again, causing you to whine. You squirm like a little kid not getting what they want, Kai chuckles at you.

“You’re so mean.” Your pout increases.

Kai’s face full of your strawberry arousal, he smirks at you, “I know.” He lifts his head, kisses you so that you taste yourself. Soon, you feel his touch creep into your inner thighs close to where you want it. His long fingers dive into your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit and fingertips teasing your hole. Kai deeply kisses you to the point you run out of breath, throwing your head back once again to show the blueberry boy your neck to mark up.

His two fingers screw deep into your pussy, curling up hitting your g-spot. Your body ached from immense pleasure mixed with exhaustion. You did not doubt that your neck was covered with love bites by the time the heat pooled in your belly again. "Please, ah- please, Berry." You whimper into Kai's ear. Another mean smirk grazes his lips, but this time, he enhances his actions. Lowering his head to lick your tits as his fingers on your cunt works fast.

Your hands latch onto Kai's buff shoulders tightly, scratching his back through the shirt in the process. Every hit of your g-spot had you seeing stars, and the stimulation of Kai's tongue on your nipples added to the sensation. A load scream screeches out of your dry throat. Kai backs away from your breasts, looking down to witness a gush of juices squirting onto his pants and thighs.

The scent of earthy strawberries filled the room. You roll back, unattractively slouched on the top cabinets, trying to catch your breath, too tired to realize the blueberry boy is losing it. His hands balled into fists, trying to hold himself back, but then again, it's time to try something new.

Kai's lips smash into your again, a big hand encapsulates both of your small ones, holding them over your pretty strawberry head. Blueberry Boy Kai wasn't waiting until you were calmed down; now that you're weak, he can use you all up.

Grateful for my 1000 Demons,

TxT's Devil

[trothplighted]

I was going through some of Rowling’s old interviews and came across one in 2004 where she spoke of Sirius:

“I am so proud of the fact that a character, whom I always liked very much, though he never appeared as much more than a brooding presence in the books, has gained a passionate fan-club.”

This wasn’t the only time she expressed surprise that Sirius became a fan favourite, and it’s honestly baffling to me??? He had an entire book named after and primarily revolving around him, and is canonically the closest thing to a parent that Harry, the protagonist of the series, ever had. Even if we disregard everything else we know about Sirius and his storyline, there’s no way in hell he wasn’t going to be popular. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said that a character like that was specifically designed for fan service (I mean...he's hot, has a flying motorbike, and is literally named after a star, lol). It’s bizarre that Rowling seems to have had no idea, and that she believed he was / intended him to be nothing more than a “brooding presence” in the series – which is at any rate an appalling and deeply unsympathetic way to describe his trauma and depression.

It made me think of how there's such a major disconnect between authorial intent and authorial execution when it comes to his character as well, especially in Order of the Phoenix. Characters like Molly or Hermione call him irresponsible/reckless/immature, claim he confused Harry and James, that he treated Harry like a friend rather than a godson, that he was biased against Snape, etc. Rowling’s interviews confirm that she intended to characterize Sirius in such a way and that Hermione and Molly are meant to be viewed as her mouthpieces. But Sirius’s actual behavior and relationship with Harry does not correspond with any of this and his actions + dialogue are for the most part very reasonable and sympathetic. (There’s also Kreacher’s storyline, which made me dislike Sirius a lot when I was younger, but upon my reread comes across as almost entirely nonsensical, contradictory, and seems specifically designed to paint Sirius in a bad light to the point where he’s compared to VOLDEMORT of all people by Hermione - who, in the process of criticizing Sirius, dehumanizes house elves entirely by claiming that none of them are capable of individual morality or have any ethical agency of their own. It's frustrating because she's 100% right that house elves should be freed but the way she infantalizes them is...pretty shitty and not the way to go about it. But I digress.)

Rowling seems to have done a complete 180 degree turn on how Sirius is presented by the narrative between Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix, and I can’t really understand why.

I get the sense that the creation of Sirius’s character in particular was, at the very least, partly accidental on Rowling’s part. She didn’t expect him to blow up the way he did, and I get the sense that she doesn’t seem to have been thrilled by how much the early HP fandom liked/valorized him. There was an interview where she was asked if she liked him, and she said that she did, only to immediately list down all his alleged flaws and emphasize that “I do not think he was wholly wonderful” (which character in the series is wholly wonderful, lol? Sirius came across as a great deal better than most to me). There have been so many other interviews where she’s done the same thing despite the fact that Sirius's faults or perceived faults had absolutely nothing to do with the questions at hand. It’s such a startling contrast how she talks about pretty much everyone else from his generation, all of whom she seems considerably warmer and more sympathetic towards in varying degrees.

As I haven’t been back in the fandom for very long, this is the first time I’ve come across her interviews - I’m not sure if I’m reading too much into them or not. I wondered if you agree/disagree, as you’ve been in the fandom for much longer and I love all your metas about the series. Thanks :)

You’ve hit upon my personal Rage Point for the entire series, anon.

I want to start by pointing something out about Sirius and Kreacher, which is that in GoF Sirius tells Ron and Harry (and Hermione, though he brings it up to compliment her observational skills) that Crouch Sr.’s mistreatment of Winky is an indicator of his character. (“If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”) This is, somehow, the same man who one book later is egregiously dismissive of and abusive toward his family’s house-elf, to the point that this dismissal causes his death (oh, and Albus blames him for dying, too.) Despite Sirius expressing two wildly different viewpoints from book to book, we’re intended to take that as his true self, as the authentic expression of his beliefs and position.

I’ve spoken before more than once about other drastic character shifts that happened as a result of the Three Year Summer, both as a writing break and as a paradigm shift in the notoriety of and ubiquity of the series thanks to the movies being released starting in 2001. I was in elementary and middle school while the books were being published, and OotP was the first book I remember seeing large-scale advertisement for in my school outside of a book fair - there was a big larger-than-life poster teasing the book cover with a release date during the summer to get us all hyped up for it. I’d obviously heard of Harry Potter before that, but that was the moment when the books went from “famous book series” to “cultural phenomenon,” at least in my mind. And I think that we can trace this shift in opinion on Sirius Black back to the Three Year Summer, too.

In my opinion it’s obvious that Joanne really liked Sirius, when she first developed him. I don’t think she’s telling the truth when she says she doesn’t think he’s wholly wonderful - when she first came up with him she absolutely did. He’s got pride of place as a Cool Character in all the ways she loves to lavish attention on someone. He’s set up with a phenomenal entrance in PS chapter one and then he spends all of PoA in the spotlight. He has a dramatic reveal of his true allegiances and his innocence, and he’s Harry’s best and most supportive parental figure throughout GoF who consistently gives good advice and who risks his own life and liberty to make sure his godson is safe. He considers coming back to England and living in a cave and eating rats to be his duty as a godfather, and while Harry feels responsible for his circumstances he’s always really clear that he (1. doesn’t care about the risks to his health and safety (2. will gladly sacrifice comfort and stability if it means being able to protect this boy (3. will not let Harry feel guilty.

These aren’t the actions of a man who confuses Harry with James - throughout GoF he continues to insist that his decisions are his own, made as an adult trying to parent and support a kid who desperately needs a stable presence in his life. Harry’s used to taking the blame for the actions of adults (my heart is still rent asunder by his expectation that Lupin is going to gaslight him about denying him the chance to face the boggart in their first DADA lesson) and he’s also used to feeling like he has to manage the emotional state of a household (see: all the times he plans out what to say or not to say to the Dursleys to get them to do what he wants), and Sirius doesn’t let him sink into either of those pits. He also prevents Harry from bottling up his feelings or concealing his distress, and never lies or twists the truth. He’s being very deliberately written as someone who serves as a positive role model and positive mentor figure for Harry, and then suddenly come OotP he’s moody and immature and subject to a number of very strange smear campaigns from characters the author confirms are intended to reflect her real opinions.

So… what happened, over the course of the Three Year Summer, to make her change her mind? We can’t ever know for sure, obviously, because Joanne hasn’t ever bothered to lay out how her feelings on each member of her cast changed and evolved, and she’s unlikely to do so at any point in the future because now when people talk to her they mostly talk to her about transphobia. But I have a theory.

See, between 1998 and 2003, the HMS Wolfstar set sail. While most of the seminal meta came out after OotP (see “The Case for R/S” as probably the one I and others my age are most familiar with as an introduction to the ship) and most of the really famous fanfics started trickling out around that time (The Shoebox Project started in 2004), there were fanfics before that point, a growing fan community, and a number of pieces of fanart and fancomics (check out the list of doujinshi in the linked Fanlore article, some of those date back to 2001). Edit: here is an archived humorous/gently snarky list of Wolfstar fanfic tropes created in 2002 - while I can’t personally remember the names of fics from before 2004 or so I want to point to this as evidence that there was an established fan community, even using the “WolfStar” name, prior to the publication of OotP.

Normally, I wouldn’t think that fanfic from prior to 2010 or so had much of anything to do with the author’s opinions on their work, because norms and fan culture around fanfic were much more focused around keeping these stories private and away from the prying eyes of The Powers That Be/TPTB.

I say normally, because Joanne was aware of fanfiction, and aware of fanfiction remarkably early in her career as a public figure.

Younger fans are almost certainly not going to know this, but one of the first real fandom divides in HP had to do with fanfiction, and specifically the question of how to treat fanfiction written by and for adults that featured sex scenes or other mature content. Since the books were children’s books (though there was an adult fandom since the start, especially online - the Harry Potter For Grown-Ups/HP4GU mailing list and its descendant communities still loom large in fan history as some of the early pillars of today’s digital scene) a lot of people didn’t know what to do or how to treat fanfic. This was also compounded by fanfic being a lot more subject to legal action or takedown notices - Anne Rice, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, and Anne McCaffrey all became infamous either for pursuing individual authors and archives until they took down their stories or instituting guidelines about what kinds of transformative works were acceptable, or both in McCaffrey’s case.

Rowling, however, was different. Rowling said that noncommercial fanfic was completely fine, that she wasn’t going to pursue any kind of legal action against fanfic authors, and that as long as adult-oriented fanfic was appropriately warned for and not shown to or targeted to children, she didn’t care if it existed.

This laid the groundwork for the founding of Fanfiction.net, for fanfic communities on LiveJournal, and eventually for Archive of our Own and the Organization for Transformative Works. In an era where legal disclaimers were common on fanfics as a mostly-useless attempt to prevent being shut down by IP holders, Rowling threw the doors open and democratized her stories in a way she - I would argue - ultimately came to regret.

I can’t prove that her sudden slander of Sirius was a result of latent unexamined homophobia and a desire for revenge against the fandom for daring to claim one of her favorite characters as a gay man. I can’t prove that his backstory of being kicked out of his house (for unspoken Family Drama reasons centering around him being filthy and disgraceful) only to be shoved back into it, or Trustworthy Adults suddenly painting him as dangerous to children and inherently irresponsible and reckless, or all of his trauma being ignored and painted over, or every scrap of his heroism being erased, has to do with Joanne deciding that if we’ve made him gay he shouldn’t get to be a character anymore.

I can’t prove it.

But I do believe it. I believe it because when you ask yourself “is this queercoded character being subjected to authorial homophobia”, suddenly everything about Sirius’s arc in OotP makes complete and total sense in the worst way possible. This is also why I think Tonks and Remus were paired off, why Tonks suddenly becomes more gender-conforming, and why Bill Weasley transforms into Normal Settled-Down Hetero William. It feels like her desperate attempts to take her characters and shove them back into a box that she controls. I don’t think she was at that point consciously and virulently homophobic, but I think her clear and evident discomfort with fans interpreting these characters who she wanted to be straight comes through in her writing.

I also believe it because she does the same thing to Albus, after his death. Someone who’s been uncomplicatedly heroic and praised by all parties and even used as her mouthpiece to pass judgment on Sirius suddenly becomes morally suspect and untrustworthy and shady and secretive, with enemies lining up as soon as he’s dead to slander him - and again, just like with Sirius, we’re meant to accept this as the correct version of events. He even confirms all of this to Harry himself in the King’s Cross afterlife. The old Albus can’t come to the phone right now, he’s dead, and only his critics remain. Coincidentally, Albus is of course the only confirmed gay character in the entire story. Funny how that works out, isn’t it?

I’ve been angry at her for 20 years for killing Sirius, and angrier still at her straightwashing efforts. I wouldn’t believe her if she said she wasn’t doing that, at this point.

It’s not as if I expected her to be a perfect ally as a center-left moderate cishet white woman in the late 90s/early 2000s, and I do think that Dumbledore being gay was revolutionary in a way that most modern audiences seriously fail to appreciate, but I wish she wasn’t so damned insistent that no one else could be queer in any way at any point. She’s also really evidently uncomfortable about any displays of affection between confirmed same-sex pairings - she was absolutely neurotic about the amount of physical contact between Mads Mikkelsen and Jude Law during FB3, to the point that she fought with David Yates about it. And her behavior contributed to the intense homophobia I and others experienced in our formative early years in fandom - no-slash mailing lists and archives, the immediate classification of all queer fanfic as inherently more mature or more sexual simply by virtue of having queer people in it, Wizards For Bush, etc. As a result, boycott or no boycott, I hope that Wolfstar is canon in the new series, I hope Mundungus stays the crossdressing icon that they are, I hope Tonks is canonically nonbinary, and I hope Joanne loses sleep over it.

[le-trash-prince]

I wish people could understand that both Babe and Charlie are two emotionally-stunted people who grew up without love, who both are in their first romantic relationship and have zero idea what the fuck they're doing. They don't have parental models for how to show love, how to foster trust, or how to communicate openly and effectively.

Babe's dad made a mistake and decided the best way to deal with it would be to fake his death and never talk to his son again. Charlie was literally locked in a room for most of his childhood.

Babe triggered Charlie's childhood trauma by joking about moving onto someone else. Charlie triggered Babe's childhood trauma by faking his death.

Their relationship has been volatile from the very beginning. They broke up like three times in the first season ffs. They have both hurt each other, and they are both going to keep hurting each other, because their story is about two deeply imperfect people trying to make it work without any idea of what "making it work" looks like.

I don't know why parts of the audience are so insistent on finding someone to blame, instead of just trying to understand where these characters are coming from. Like I'll be honest with y'all, I'm not a CharlieBabe shipper, I have little emotional investment in them, but I think their story is such a good example of ways that trauma can inform our actions and our words beyond "hyperventilating in the fetal position," and I wish ppl cared more about that than about who deserves to be cancelled.

I've said it once and I'll say it a hundred times, there is more to media criticism than just saying what you dislike, and someone offering an explanation for a character's actions isn't "shutting down criticism," it's just them expecting you to care more about character analysis than making zingy one-liners.

[jollyhunter]

Finally I get to react to this lovely review 🧡

This description of period pain is the best. I gotta say - you know what the one benefit of having a baby is? No period. And sometimes it takes even looonnger after. And okay pain, sure, but you forget that, and yes, bleeding once the birth is done, but you have the excuse to wear nappies and use ice packs for your hoohaa and, and, people give you sympathy lol - sorry, tmi… 😂

ice packs for your hoohaa?? I - I had no idea 😳 never excuse yourself for tmi, this is educational okay 😂

And excuse me miss, spoiled our self with Chuck spoilers did we? I guess it’s hard not to…

Yup, I've read it in so many fics. Just little things like "Oh for Chuck's Sake". And the first time I read it, I was VERY confused for obvious reasons but yeah, I pieced it together quickly 😂

Hahaha - I know you said you like One Piece somewhere, I’m sure we spoke about it once - do they teach kids that in the ahow/manga? I’ve only ever seen it in samurai stuff. Have you ever watched any of the Rurouni Kenshin adaptations! You NEED to see it if you haven’t. The dude in the live action version is hot 🔥

LOL yes we did! And we spoke about Dragon Ball too 😂 No I haven't watched it yet!!! But I know who you're talking about! (Also that Mackenyu, who played in Rurouni Kenshin's live action, plays Zoro in the One Piece live action 😏)

Hahaha - he’s not wrong 😂 benefits all round…

Let's be real. It's the only benefit, Dean.

I mean, she’s surrounded by Dean, wouldn’t she be horny all the time, but truth. I also liked how you word played the nub here at the bottom - look, I did it too - it really liked that. I feel like that fruit gut is called for right about now…

Probably, lol. Aaah yes, that gif... here you go, only took me another 10 minutes to find it (I don't know why I just spent so much time for that. For the future; It's literally the first one for "squishy fruit finger" lmao)

Ahhhh - I love it. Dean totally would, too. They’re surrounded by blood as you said, what’s different. Though I love how clueless he is about the days. Unless this has been going on for a little longer, anyone who has their period for two days, I’m very damn jealous of! Is it even possible?

Aren't most men just clueless about this? Even when they should know. I feel like I'm repeating myself every month that - no - my period is not done after the second day 😂

I’m seeing bean a lot lately! It is cute ❤️

Really?? I feel like I must've picked it up somewhere at some point but I can't remember where

Hahaha - Dean you horny fucker! But yes please? I was kind of hoping he might’ve convinced her 😏 I was enjoying this way too much.

😂 don't worry, I'm pretty damn sure he would find a way to convince her if he tried long enough

Okay. So when I read Nathan Algren, I was scratching my head. Is that his Last Samurai character’s name? I think I’ve seen that move once - shame on me. But it didn’t click till I got here.

Yeah, okay, so, you got me there. I didn't remember his name either, had to google it. I just tossed it in there for Dean's pop-culture reference's sake, thinking that he would've probably liked that movie and the idea of being a Samurai. 😅

This was marvellous! I can’t wait to see what your mind comes up with next. I just love the way you write the inner monologues with the touches of humour - speaks to my soul ❤️

Thank you so so much Beth!! You're one of my inspiring writers for humour 🧡🧡🧡

Shower Reliever

⋆ ˚｡⋆ COUPLE Dean Winchester x f!Reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WARNINGS SMUT 18+ MDNI, established relationship, menstruating (evil cramps!!), tooth-rotting sweet fluff, mention of blood (light), Dean being dorky and cute, guided masturbation in the shower? (idk how to tag this sryyy), Dean’s misuse of a shower head as a magic wand, no use of Y/N, English isn’t my native language

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY It’s that time of the month; Cramps are tormenting you, but Dean’s there to cheer you up and look after you by giving you some relief. ♡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS 4,2k

It’s afternoon. Or maybe it’s evening.

How are you supposed to know when you’re surrounded by the bunker’s concrete and artificial light all day?

A pathetic, writhing-weeping blood sacrifice wrapped up in bed sheets like a burrito. That’s what you are. Ready to be served. Honestly, though? Big Hellhound pupper toying with your guts suddenly seems much more appealing than a day ago. At least the doggo wouldn’t take three damn days to rip your innards out.

But you won’t complain. Because right now? Things seemed oddly… okay? It’s almost suspicious.

A deep sigh of relief falls of your lips and you dare to sprawl out on the mattress. Star-fish formation. Plain ceiling staring back down at you.

You’re maybe 5 seconds into your newfound content - and then the little bitch ruins it by raking her peeler down your walls. A sharp hiss presses past your clenched teeth.

Nevermind. Here she goes again.

Peeling your uterus out from the inside. Like Lilith herself is down there, having a feast on your unborn – and very non-existent – baby.

Muffled by Dean’s pillow, you scream. Fuck that time of the month.

Why’s it always that time of the month? Again and again and again.

Why can’t you just get the period twice a year like a bitch and get on with it? It’s not like you signed up for this. In fact, you’d very much like to file a complaint.

Not that Chuck would care. “That bastard knows why he doesn’t own an uterus...” you grumble.

A hot flush shoots through your body. Wheezing takes over your breathing. The bedsheets go flying along some of the pillows you’d burrowed yourself in.

Burning up. Hot. Your body feels like your ovaries decided to have a meltdown.

You roll around the bed, aimlessly. A ball of messy hair. Entangled in the sweat-drenched pyjama you couldn’t get yourself to change from. Arms clutched around your stomach, fingers clawing at the hot-water bag which so far hasn’t done much more than give you third-degree burns and only add to the feverish heat steaming beneath your skin.

When the door to your and Dean’s bedroom opens, you can’t even bring yourself to lift your head. Instead you’re curled up like a salted snail, squirming, each and every noise escaping from you thick with pain.

“Hey baby, ‘m back…” Dean greets you from across the room, his voice dying down as he spots you on the bed just where he'd left you this morning.

Your face plants into the sheets when you double over from another stab to your uterus.

“It’s trying to kill me, Dean,” you whimper into the mattress. Dean’s face contorts at your strangled sound.

“That bad?” It’s a stupid question, and he realizes it the moment it leaves his mouth. Of course it’s bad. You look like hell.

And worst is, it’s been going like this the entire day already. First time Dean’s witnessing it from the start, too. You’d been together for a couple of months now, but you being you, you’d so far managed to slip away just in time before your period kicked down the door.

Now that you moved in with the boys in the bunker that didn’t seem an option any longer.

You watch Dean’s face harden, the way it always does when he starts to feel helpless.

Indeed, Dean could feel the frustration claw on the inside of his chest. To the point he secretly wished your state would just be the aftermath of a hunt gone wrong.

At least he would know what to do then, y’know? Clean your wounds, stitch you back together if needed – maybe it wouldn’t look as neat as when you did it, but it’d do the job – because that’s what he’s good at.

But this? He didn’t quite know how to work with this.

There’s no injury he could just patch up. No swig of whiskey to dampen the pain. No way for him to help. And watching you writhe like you were being tortured from the inside, was killing him.

He sighs. The shopping bag in his hand gets dropped to the floor and he rounds the bed to your side. A frustrated hand ruffles back his hair. His eyes taking in the battlefield you’ve caused. And they come to rest on your crumpled form, smack in the middle of it all.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart…” He mutters softly. And he means it. You know he does. The words were simple, yet you know that if he could, he’d take your pain away in a heartbeat. But he can’t. Because for some reason, despite all the supernatural crap you get to deal with on a daily basis, this isn’t an option.

Damn you Chuck.

You make a sound between a whine and a sigh at the grave conclusion, at which Dean’s eyebrows pull together.

The bed dips down beside you and next moment the warmth of his body presses against your side. He slowly runs his hand over your shoulders to rub your back in soothing circles.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better..?” he asks.

“Rip it out. Use it for your next blood sacrifice. Sell it to Crowley. I don’t care- I don’t want it no more.” You wail while crawling into his lap, your face burying into his grey shirt and the blue jacket that’s partially covering it.

“Jesus,”– Dean laughs softly, his deep voice rumbling under your cheeks –“Yeah, not happening.”

His arms wrap around you to pull you closer. The familiar smell of his fills your senses when you nuzzle your nose into the fabric of his clothes. A combination of his musk, fresh lemon and a hint of sweetness of his cologne clouds your mind.

Your muscles relax for a fraction. Melting into his heavy embrace. It’s odd how just a smell can have such a calming effect. As of right now, you wished you could just climb into his shirt, buttoned-up, and pressed flush against his body. All safe, warm and fuzzy.

But Uterus-Lilith had different plans. The sharp wince you try to bite back, doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean.

“My poor baby… C’mere…” He leans down to place a tender kiss onto your crown while he cradles you on his lap like a wounded animal.

His chin comes to rest on top of your head. Lips press against your hair. “It’ll pass… You’ll feel better soon… My brave girl…” He murmurs softly and you sigh.

Another twinge to your abdomen. Your body jolts, then caves in. Dean startles for a moment but then tightens his arms around you, pulling you up against his chest.

While he continues to rub your back, his other hand begins to card through the back of your hair. “Shhh, it’s okay… I got you…”

“It’s like the damn thing is committing sepukku.” You lament with fingers curled into his shirt. Nose buried in his chest. Trying everything to physically ground you until the cramp goes by.

At that comparison, Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips twitch into a pressed smirk. “Damn it, don’t make me laugh.” His stomach contracts and shakes beneath you.

In response, a disgruntled noise gets huffed into his chest. And Dean can’t help a short, surprised snort.

“Sepukku?” He tries so hard to sound serious and to hold in his chuckles, but finally loses his battle. “Seriously?” He shakes his head lightly and his green eyes crinkle slightly when he continues to tease you, “You telling me, you got a wee little Samurai down there?”

A wee little Samurai throwing a tantrum in your uterus? Okay, that image carried a smile to your lips. Sounds a lot cooler than Lilith feeding on your unborn child.

Unfortunately the wee little Samurai was not amused and rammed it’s katana once more into your uterus.

Another jolt goes through your body. Another strangled sound follows. You burrow your face even further into his arms in hopes that his smell will just work like some narcotics.

Perhaps it’ll just knock me out when I dig my face deep enough into his shirt? A weird thought. But you guess that’s just what menstrual hormones mixed with pain does.

“Yes.” you wince, “And it failed to conceive a child,” then groan in agony, “So now it wants to punish me for it.”

Now Dean actually has to bite back a hearty laughter. “Oh, sweetie.”– he taps your head lightly with his finger –“Look on the bright side. At least we know I didn't knock you up. It's like a free monthly pregnancy test.“

That jab would have earned him a deadpan glare of yours if it wasn’t for the next attack on your inner walls and your body jerked into his arms this time.

Dean’s light-hearted expression contorts into a pained one. Jaws clenched with a twinge of guilt.

“Want me to get you some painkillers? Or – uh – maybe some whisky?” he inquires, his head tilted down in an attempt to meet your gaze. But your eyes are scrunched up, face still hidden in his bunched up shirt.

“Baby, can you look at me for a sec?” he pleads, while his hands slip underneath to cradle your chin now, coaxing you out of your den. You lift your head, just enough to meet his concerned eyes.

“None of that helps…” You mutter. Although you did wonder whether whiskey might even do the trick. Get the wee little samurai bitch a little tipsy down there, hm? Maybe it would pass out?

No – no, now you’re thinking like Dean. That’s a terrible idea.

“Imagine you’re getting stabbed in the stomach and the blade gets twisted. Repeatedly. For hours.”

Dean winces inwardly at your description. A hand instinctively clutches his stomach. He doesn’t have to imagine what that pain feels like. He knows.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to snap out of some memories from downstairs, his eyes back on you just when you writhe again with a stifled groan.

“Okay, that‘s enough. I‘m getting you off the rack,” he declares and you don’t even get the chance to react when he’s already scooping your curled up form up into his arms.

“W-what? What are you going to do, Dean?” you ask confused while he pulls you to your feet and starts leading you out the bedroom and down the bunker's hallway.

"I'm going to distract you," he replies, glancing back over his shoulder at you while he leads you to the main bathroom, "I did some digging this morning... to see what I could do to help with your period cramps, and it looks like an orgasm might do the trick."

You stop in your tracks. Quick enough for Dean to almost stumble into the bathrooms doorframe.

"N-no," you squeak, eyes wide.

"No, what? No it won't work or no you don't-"

"No, I'm fine."

"So it does work?"

"Well- uh-" you trip over your words when the heat rushes to your cheeks, "It's - it's different when I... uh..."

"Hey, it's okay. Nothing to be ashamed of," he chuckles softly and brings up his hand to cup your cheek, "Is it 'cuz of the blood? You do know I don't care about it, right? You really think I won't touch you just 'cause you're on your period?"

"No, but... it's awkward... and gross..." you mumble, eyes averted as you can feel the heat going both ways now.

Because, even if you wouldn't admit it, you did feel a bit horny. It's just one of those many fluctuating emotions a period entails. In those blessed days, it feels like your mood is being regulated by a pinball machine. And as of right now, it hit the tingling nub at the very bottom.

"Gross? Honey, I've been covered in guts, sludge, crap and all sorts of other nasty stuff. Do you honestly think a little blood's gonna phase me?" He tilts your head up to make you look at him, his lips twitch in amusement but his words are genuine, "You're not gross, sweetheart. Not to me..."

"But-" the next argument forms on your lips when he dives down to muffle them with a kiss. Your cheeks cradled by his large hands. Tender, soft, but enough to shut you up and make you melt into him.

When he finally pulls back, his plump lips still hovering inches from yours, he speaks softly.

“Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

His green eyes flick back and forth between yours, intense and yet calming. And really, how could you ever say no to him when he looks at you like you'll break his heart if you don't let him help you.

A sudden twinge in your stomach has you hunch over, and it's enough to finally convince you to let go of your tribulations with a weak nod of yours.

“Okay," you wince under your sharp exhale. The pain in your voice has Dean's hands dart down, one to your contracted stomach and one to the small of your back.

"Alright then, c'mon, sweetheart..." he mutters. Then gently guides you towards the shower after he closed and locked the door behind you.

When he notices how your teeth pull at your lower lip the way they always do when you're overthinking things, he grabs both of your hands. He squeezes them to get you to look at him, just to bestow you with one of his trademark grins. Confident, cheeky and oh so lovable.

“You trust me, right? It won't be awkward, promise. Nothing wrong with giving my girl some relief. Besides... This is purely therapeutic,” he quips and winks at you.

Once both of your clothes are piled up in a corner, you pad over the cold tiles and into the shower. Dean slides in after you, his naked body flush against your skin, his body heat a warm welcome in the cold air of the large bathroom. His arms envelop you from behind, one hand splayed out on your stomach to try and sooth your cramps, the other reaching for the shower head to pull it from its holder.

“Lean back, I got you baby,” he assures you while tugging you gently further back into his chest.

He turns on the shower, tests the temperature until it's the perfect heat and then slowly brings it down to the level of your stomach with the spray of water still pointed to the floor.

“Spread your legs a bit for me, sweetie,” he gently nudges his knee between your thighs, coaxing you into a wider stance while he continues to hum above you, “Mhm, that's it. Now just relax and lemme take care of you...”

Dean rests his chin on top of your head, the stubbles tingling your scalp as he does so. The air around you slowly begins to mix with steam while his body holds you close. Save and protected. The world reduced to just the two of you and the warmth hugging you from head to toe. Your thoughts and worries are drowned out by the rhythmic pattering of the droplets hitting the smooth shower floor as the sound echoes off of the tiled bunker walls all around you.

You feel yourself relax against him, despite the occasional, small jolts of pain which keep reminding you of that fact.

At last, a heavy sigh drops off your lips. The signal Dean has been waiting for.

He tugs at the hose, just enough to guide the water up your legs, then your thighs...

When the first jet of water hits right on your bundle of nerves, you almost buckle over with a gasped, “Oh shit-”

Your fingernails bite into the skin of his forearms, drawing a hiss from him. He moves his free hand to your hip, his grip on your squishy flesh gentle but strong. Steadying and grounding you.

“Feels good?” he asks while playing with the angle of the shower head.

You nod. Jolting whenever one of the water jets grazes your sensitive spot.

“Want me to keep goin‘?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

The hand on your hips slides over the bump on your bones and dips down between your legs. Next moment, calloused fingers slip along your folds to spread them open.

You shiver under the touch of his rough fingertips and at the feeling of him coating them in some of your arousal.

He angles the shower head slightly lower now, until a row of water jets skim your entrance. Your breath hitches. Then comes out in a shaky whimper.

Your legs start to go weak, feeling like jello.

Dean gently tugs you up again and pulls your back flush into his chest to keep you upright, making sure he's your anchor in this tidal wave of pleasure he's drowning you in.

“Just let go... that’s it…” he coos, now his head angled to nuzzle his nose against your temple.

Another shockwave travels through your body and tightens your coil even more, to the point it feels like it’s going to explode soon.

Your head drops back onto Dean‘s shoulder. Neck draped over his collarbone, just where his anti-possession tat lays. Shaky and ragged breaths mingle in the damp air of the shower.

“Just relax,” he places a kiss to your temple, his stubbles tingling the wet skin as he murmurs, “I got you.”

His fingers spread you further while he brings the shower head closer, allowing some of the water to push past your entrance.

“Oh fuck- Dean-” you gasp and whine at the same time.

„Language, young lady,“ he chides playfully, „This is purely therapeutical, remember?“

You choke on a giggle when he moves the shower head a fraction lower and the water jet grazes your sensitive nub just the right way, enough to send an intense jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Ah, so that's the magic angle, huh?” Dean laughs softly, his chest rumbling against your back.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out in a weak whimper as Dean's making sure to keep the right angle.

The intensity has your nerves on fire, like your core's being hooked up to electricity with hundreds of little needles tingling your most sensitive spot.

“M-move - p-please,” you beg in a shaky voice that has Dean's smile next to your cheek widen.

“Guide me,” he prompts softly, the hand on the shower head waiting for your instructions. You slip your hand along his strong arm, over the bump of his wrist, until you cover his hand with your tender fingers.

Slowly you begin to guide his hand into small, circular motions. The water jets brush your nub now from all sides, the overwhelming sensation enough to make you whimper weakly and your head loll to the side to bury your nose under his jaw.

“Too much?” he asks, his head tips to the side to look down into your eyes. You shake your head, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as they meet his. Hair’s stuck to your damp, flushed, skin, pupils blown wide, gaze intoxicated from pleasure.

The corner of his lips tugs into a smirk at your blissful expression. It's such a stark contrast to what you'd looked like moments ago when you were doubling over from pain. And if it wasn’t for the special circumstances, he’d make sure to keep you in this state all day and night. The growing pressure of his own arousal heavy against your back is evidence of his thoughts.

But this is about you now. His needs will just have to wait for – for… how long did a period even last? A day? Two? Hm, maybe if you’d feel comfortable enough, he wouldn’t need to wait this long. But one step at a time.

When your legs begin to shake, Dean presses his lips to your ear, murmuring into it, deep and hoarse from his own arousal.

“You’re doing so well for me… Now close your eyes, sweetheart. I want you to just relax and feel…”

You don't have to be told twice. The intensity is enough to make your eyes flutter close, squinting them even as your face contorts from the jolts of pleasure coursing through your body like a firework.

“Now I want you to imagine it's my mouth down there...”

While he keeps you distracted with the images he's painting in his husky voice, the hand on your folds leaves you and he reaches for the tap, increasing the water pressure.

“Y'know... the way I like to wrap my lips around you… and suck on that cute little bean 'til you're sobbing.”

“O-oh my God-” you mewl after the hard jet of water swallows your pulsing nub, causing your legs to buckle. The feeling's like a lightning bolt has just hit you. And it just keeps striking. Your other hand darts to his thigh behind you, fingernails biting into his skin in an attempt to ground you. But the jolts of pleasure set the nerves down your legs on hot white fire now, with everything from your stomach downwards tingling.

“That’s the reaction I was hoping for…” he chuckles and keeps going with his sweet words of praise somewhere outside of your clouded mind.

Images of Dean kneeling between your legs pulse under your eyelids. How his broad shoulders shove your knees apart, keeping your legs spread as they begin to fight him from the intensity of his mouth on your core. How the soft flesh of your thighs is squished under the force of his fingers, how you witness the veins on his arms pop as his muscles work relentlessly to prevent you from squirming away. How he holds your gaze the entire time, pupils blown up wide from hunger and lust as they eat away the deep emerald pools circling them.

Ragged breaths leave your lips. Another row of jolts has your body shaking in his arms. Each one driving you closer to your climax until you’re teetering on the edge. When your body begins to fight him and thrash around, Dean quickly tightens his grip around your hips to hold you in place.

He moves his lips to your temple, planting a tender kiss there, prickling stubbles brush the side of your face while he continues to talk you through it.

“You're doing so well... Let go for me, sweetheart... I've got you, I'll catch you, promise.”

Just when you feel yourself tip over, his free hand leaves your core to the constant onslaught of the circling water jets and moves it to your hand. His fingers slide between yours, intertwining them.

Then the tidal wave crashes down on you.

Dean's hand squeezes yours. The corner of his lips still pressed to your temple.

A guttural sound leaves the back of your throat when waves after waves of ecstasy course through you, enough for your knees to give in as your body goes limp.

“Oh- we goin' down?” he jokes softly as he follows your movement.

As promised, Dean catches you right after you've dropped some inches. Chuckling lightly above you as he pulls you back to your feet. Legs still shaky like a newborn foal’s.

“C'mon, bambi...” - he teases and slides the shower head back into place before he wraps both of his arms around your waist and turns you to face you with a soft smile - “…there you go.” You smile back at him, your hands finding purchase on his hips, gaze still a bit woozy.

He brushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, head tilted down to your eye-level, “Hey there, sweetie. You feeling better?”

“Yes,” you sigh, one of relief at the missing pain. At least for the moment. You melt into his embrace, feeling how your wet and naked bodies lock together like a perfect puzzle piece. “So much better.”

“Good, that’s good…” he murmurs into your hair after your forehead had dropped to his chest.

After a moment of peaceful silence, a mischievous grin creeps onto his face.

He clears his throat.

“You want me to battle that wee little samurai with my sword now?”

It takes your dazed mind a moment to catch up with his rather creative innuendo.

Once it hits you, you sputter an amused chuckle, “Please don’t.”

Dean huffs through his nose, feigning disappointment.

“Aw c’mon… Y'know, I’ve always wanted to fight a samurai… I’d make a pretty good Nathan Algren, don’t ya think?” he quips, then his lips quirk into a boyish, innocent grin as he adds, “...and my sword wouldn't mind getting bloody either.”

Now this has you raise your head to meet his cheeky expression and burst out in laughter.

“You do us both a favour and keep your mighty sword in your pants for now, you hear me? Idiot-” you playfully slap his chest, the wet sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. Dean’s grin doesn’t waver, instead his hands on your back slide down your spine until they reach your ass cheeks.

He clicks his tongue.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, s’all I’m sayin’,” he jabs softly as he pats both your ass cheeks. His eyes crinkle at the corner, and he's got a secret smile on his face, proud of how he made you not only smile, but laugh, despite the hell trip you’re on. Maybe he’s not as helpless as he thought.

His features suddenly harden, eyes narrowed as they dart down to your stomach, a pointed finger now prodding the spot below your bellybutton.

“Now back to you,” he growls, you giggle, and he has to fight to keep a straight face and his voice especially low and warning as he continues, “You leave my girl alone now. Or else I’ll personally come down there and take care of you, Tom Cruise style. You hear me you evil little bitch?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J/NOTES May Dean bring some relief to all of you poor, fellow victims of Uterus Lilith. <3

And thank you, @ambiguous-avery for your help with the correct name for the shower head lol 😌

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[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one where the triplets find the little sisters spam account and she’s like on a boys lap, and in other vids she’s sneaking out with her friends

“Private Story, Public Problem”

Nick was the first to find it.

He wasn’t snooping—not really. He’d just been tagged in a random video by a mutual friend. Curiosity led to clicking, which led to scrolling, which led to _“@yn.privvvv”—a spam account that definitely wasn’t public.

And definitely wasn’t supposed to be found.

He stared at the screen for a solid ten seconds, heart rate climbing with every clip. There was a blurry video of you at a party, dancing. A shot of you and your friends running through the streets late at night. And then—one that made his stomach drop—you on some guy’s lap, hoodie zipped halfway down, laughing like you didn’t have three older brothers with functioning Wi-Fi.

“Matt,” Nick said flatly, walking into the living room and shoving his phone in Matt’s face.

Matt squinted, then blinked. “Is that—? No way. Scroll back. Scroll back.”

They stopped on the lap video.

Chris, hearing the commotion, came in with a bag of chips. “What’s going on?”

Nick didn’t even look up. “Your little sister is out here acting like she doesn’t have a family who will literally kill for her.”

Chris leaned in, saw the post, and choked on a chip. “Is she—on a guy’s lap? Who the hell is that?”

“No idea,” Matt muttered.

“What account is this?” Chris demanded.

“Her spam.”

“We didn’t even know she had one!”

“Oh, we know now.”

Cut to ten minutes later: you walked into the apartment from Target, headphones in, absolutely oblivious—until three very silent triplets stared at you from the couch.

You froze. “…What?”

Chris held up his phone. “So. ‘yn.privvvv.’ Want to explain?”

Your stomach dropped. “How did you—”

“Not the question we’re asking,” Matt snapped. “Who is that guy? And why are you out at 2 a.m. sneaking around like you’re in a damn coming-of-age movie?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Nick was still silent, which was somehow scarier.

“I—It’s not what it looks like, okay?”

“Oh really?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “Because it looks like you’re out breaking every rule we’ve ever set and laughing while doing it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Matt asked, voice lower now. “If you wanted more freedom or whatever—why lie?”

You swallowed hard. “Because I knew you’d overreact. Like you’re doing now.”

Nick finally spoke. “Overreact? You’re fifteen. You’re sneaking out. Sitting on some guy’s lap. And we’re just supposed to act like that’s normal?”

“I didn’t do anything bad—”

“You didn’t tell us,” Chris said, softer now. “That’s what’s bad.”

The room went quiet.

You looked at them—three overprotective, annoying, fiercely loyal older brothers who were only mad because they cared.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

Nick sighed, walking over and ruffling your hair. “We’re not mad because you’re growing up. We’re mad because we love you and we’re scared someone’s gonna take advantage of that.”

Matt nodded. “Please just… don’t lie next time.”

Chris added, “Also, if we find out who that guy is—he’s dead.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled a little. “I deleted the account.”

“Good,” all three said in unison.

You sat with them on the couch, and even though you were still grounded for a week, you couldn’t help but feel a little lucky—annoyed, yes—but lucky.

Because some people had older brothers.

But not everyone had three who’d go to war for you over a spam account.

⸻