#i love the chemistry but can't even say i love the dynamic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msgexymunson · 1 year ago

Text

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it!

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.”

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it.

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap.

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.”

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them.

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!”

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad.

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench.

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend.

“You're wrong you know.”

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused.

“Huh?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation.

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.”

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal.

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out.

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?”

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted.

“You can't- you just- fuck!”

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head.

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?”

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-”

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap.

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.”

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little.

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.”

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you.

Fuck, you need another smoke.

“You want me to roll?”

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.”

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you.

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.”

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes.

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.”

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more.

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear.

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he…

Oh.

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff.

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn.

“Milady.”

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?”

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants.

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?”

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap.

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.”

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly.

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck.

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both.

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?”

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling.

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.”

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship.

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling.

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.”

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it.

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?”

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind.

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything.

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?”

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?”

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing.

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?”

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.”

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base.

“You're a virgin too then.”

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!”

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist.

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers.

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?”

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch.

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?”

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.”

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?”

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!”

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees.

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.”

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense.

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth.

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?”

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering.

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.”

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want.

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.”

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you.

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating.

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!”

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl.

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.”

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek.

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ”

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside.

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you.

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most.

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub.

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure.

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically.

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before.

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?”

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful.

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.”

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin.

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.”

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties.

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater.

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem.

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?”

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body.

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!”

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.”

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.”

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him.

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled.

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat.

“Fuck, you're so warm.”

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear.

“You can feel that, through your jeans?”

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies.

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.”

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded.

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them.

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.”

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away.

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra.

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes.

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally-

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!”

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away.

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head.

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.”

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast.

“Can I take this off, please?”

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath.

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles.

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!”

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps.

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.”

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after.

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them.

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire.

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.”

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound.

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception.

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging.

“I mean, if you want to, sure.”

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.”

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed.

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.”

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is.

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously.

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word.

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him.

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?”

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle.

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.”

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds.

“Fuck me, you're soaked.”

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit.

“Eddie, right there, right there!”

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair.

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!”

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great.

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes.

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?”

“Like this?”

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch.

“Fuuuck.”

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?”

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it.

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over.

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!”

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy.

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you.

“You alright there? What'd you say?”

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink.

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.”

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment.

“Eddie, come here you dope.”

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core.

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.”

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.”

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care.

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face.

“Huh?”

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead.

“I did not say that!”

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.”

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs.

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!”

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back.

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…”

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip.

“We can… go all the way?”

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught.

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.”

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#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #virgin!eddie #virgin eddie x virgin reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fiction

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nianeyemystic · 19 days ago

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💦💖 Sexual & Physical Compatibility Synastry 🤤

Soooo this post was inspired by one of my close friends. She's in a long distance relationship & was explaining how different sex feels with her new man. Now let me preface this and say

*not everyone will experience this synastry the same, that's okay these are just MY OWN obseervations. Ive been studying this for a few years now and so far - it tracks lol*

❤️‍🔥Mars-Venus Aspects❤️‍🔥

✨ Conjunction, Trine, or Sextile: These aspects show natural attraction and sexual chemistry. Mars represents passion, while Venus represents love and desire. You can find yourself becoming so intensely attracted to your partner. It's something we astrologers always look for, if you have these, you most certainly will know it by how your body reacts to that person being around you.

✨ Square or Opposition: These can indicate tension that manifests as fiery, passionate attraction but may need effort to balance. So yes, you will want to tear their clothes off every time you interact, but it can also be like unnecessary fights & explosive fights. You will need a sexual outlet.

❇️Mars-Mars Aspects❇️

✨ If Mars in both charts forms a harmonious aspect (e.g., trine or sextile), you may share similar sexual energy levels and desires. Which can lead to wanting the sex at the same time or being on the same page about what makes you feel good in the bedroom.

😍 Mars-Pluto Aspects😍

✨ This is a powerful placement for deep, transformative, and intense sexual attraction. I looooooveeeee seeing this one in couples charts. If you've felt like you can't explain why your body tingles around them, why you can't stop thinking about them? Why you're always wanting to be near them. You possibly have Mars - Pluto. The connection can feel magnetic and almost fated.

💋 Venus-Pluto Aspects💋

✨These aspects create an obsessive, passionate attraction. I say obsessive bc Pluto is involved. It can be healthy though, depending on how you express your obsessions. Like....don't stalk them, but be open about how they make you crave the. There’s often a deep emotional and physical bond that feels irresistible.

🧡Moon-Mars Aspects🧡

✨ The Moon represents emotions and Mars represents physical drive, so these aspects indicate a connection that blends emotional intimacy with sexual passion. I already did an entire post describing this connection in detail, so make sure you visit that one here:

💙Venus-Mars in Each Other's Houses💙

✨ When one partner's Venus or Mars falls into the other's 5th (romance), 7th (partnership), or 8th (sexual intimacy) houses, it can signify strong attraction and sexual compatibility.

💕 Sun-Mars Aspects💕

✨ Harmonious aspects (e.g., trine or sextile) between the Sun and Mars often indicate a strong physical connection. Challenging aspects can create a dynamic but exciting sexual tension. I like Sun & Mars bc sometimes it can feel invigorating & exciting when relationships seem to get dull. You'll always find the other person just enough of a challenge to keep your enticed.

💋Moon-Pluto Aspects💋

✨ This aspect creates emotional intensity and a deep, transformative connection that often translates into a passionate physical bond. I have sen this play out several times and it can be a beautiful bond that only you two will understand. So much so that you may even be willing to try new sexual things w this person, taboo sexual exploration. As long as the emotional connection is being satisfied, you will do anything to please your partner sexually.

❤️‍🔥Eros and Psyche (433 & 16)❤️‍🔥

✨Eros (sexual desire) and Psyche (soulful love) aspects in synastry can reveal where deep sexual and emotional compatibility exists.

💛 North Node Conjunct Venus or Mars💛

✨This placement suggests a karmic or destined connection where the partners help each other grow, often through romantic or sexual experiences. The friend I was inspired to make this post bc of this has this with her man. His NN is conjunct her Venus. she's expressed many times how his love feels like it is healing her, forcing her to grow as a divine feminine. I love this one, it also leads to sexual healing.

💕Bonus: 8th House Synastry💕

When one person’s planets fall into the other’s 8th house, it often triggers themes of intimacy, transformation, and sexual magnetism.

These placements and aspects don't guarantee compatibility, but they can highlight areas of potential connection and attraction. Always look at the full synastry chart for a holistic view!

Do you have any of these? Let me know below!

@nianeyemystic ✨❥

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #synastry aspects #love astrology #astrology aspects #lovers astrology #astro tumblr #astro community #tumblr astrology #synastry reading #sun venus synastry #leo venus #moon mars synastry #pluto synastry #jupiter synastry #sun synastry #synastry moon #sun moon synastry

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rifari2037 · 4 months ago

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Antis : Zutara shippers mischaracterised Katara by saying that she acts motherly towards Aang.

Forgive me if I consider it motherly, when two characters have exactly the same gesture as La Pieta (an art of Virgin Mary cradles the body of her son, Jesus).

The writers actually admitted that they were inspired by La Pieta, so I'm not just assuming. And the writers also said, their dynamic like babysitter and a kid she look after

Out of the 'mischaracterised' thing - because the writers themselves admit that - for some people, such a dynamic doesn't feel romantic, but weird. Very, very weird.

Antis : Katara never has feelings for Zuko. In fact, Katara is like a little sister that Zuko always wanted.

Oh yeah, a little sister who touches his face and thumb on his lips. Is that a normal thing for siblings to do???

It's also funny to me, because as far as I know Katara never examine someone's wound first when she heal them, she always streams water onto her palm and heal them straight away.

Like what she did to Jet...

Or to Aang...

Or even to Zuko in final battle...

So, what exactly did Katara think of Zuko in the Crystal Catacombs when she touched his scars????

Unless...

Antis : Zutara is the worst ship ever! Zuko and Katara can never be together. Their elements are opposites and do not mix well.

Yeah, fire and water are opposite, they can't understand each others and work together. Ever!

And it's not like there's a movie specifically about the elements of fire and water falling in love and find a way to be together, they touch each other and make steam has ever existed.

Bonus :

And they're kissing in the end

Oh, I'm sure they just forgot to say 'yet'.

Antis : I don't understand Zutara shippers. Zuko and Katara has no chemistry at all!!

Okay, well, this is the meaning of chemistry in relationship 👇🏽

For example, a story about a man who dies to save a princess he loves.

Meanwhile the princess tries her best to save him, regardless of the dangers ahead.

Despite being badly injured and very weak, the man tries to reach the princess, knowing that she is in danger.

When there's a chance, the princess grabs the man she loves who dying of his injury. She looks very sad, worried, and afraid of losing him.

The princess has the ability to heal, usually she uses her magic hair, but this time she heals the man using her tears (which means water). Miraculously, the water healed the man.

After he recovers, the man slowly opens his eyes, he looks at the princess and smile at her.

And the princess smile back in happiness.

This love story only beautiful if there is chemistry between the characters, right? Now, I wonder, which ATLA characters have the same story narrative???

#zutara #pro zutara #zuko x katara #zuko and katara #atla zutara #anti anti zutara #anti kataang #antikataang #anti bryke #zutara was robbed

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ravensmadreads · 9 months ago

Text

OK YOU KNOW WHAT

FUCK YOU

T_T

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without – Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come. OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

🤍Masterlist 🤍Pero Tovar Masterlist

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits.

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang.

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle.

And yet, as he climbs those stone steps, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on.

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights.

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will.

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor.

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him.

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down.

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window.

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.”

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world.

All in the time in the world – for what?

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell.

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?”

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.”

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men.

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again.

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet.

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable.

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare.

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again.

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.”

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword.

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm.

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.”

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.”

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.”

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.”

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too.

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight.

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with.

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand.

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.”

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm.

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . . say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?”

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.”

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way?

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.”

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart.

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.”

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar.

Fuck it.

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.”

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth.

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel.

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?”

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last.

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape.

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you.

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob.

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.”

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under.

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.”

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his.

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar.

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe.

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on."

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him.

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of your cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised.

“Unless you don’t want –,”

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest.

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places.

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword.

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress.

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed.

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him.

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh.

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor.

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.”

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both.

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips.

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils.

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm.

“Oh, oh, Pero—,”

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand.

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.”

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body.

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing.

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress.

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace.

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs.

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear.

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth.

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough.

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly.

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving.

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, nails pricking his spine, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cocked soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight draws from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire.

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets.

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again.

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care.

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter.

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.”

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest.

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.”

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.”

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.”

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more.

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss.

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.”

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.”

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.”

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.”

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble.

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs.

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides.

“Have you had your fun yet?”

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very I love you too.”

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.”

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips.

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest.

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks.

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted.

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it.

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known.

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart.

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you.

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

#pero tovar x reader #before we start i just wanna really really really give a very sincere shout out for that header #i didnt expect it.. i thought it was gonna be the generic white person (not a dig just saying)#and i definitely teared up when it was someone who looked like me.. like i can't even explain what this means #so im just gonna gently hug you and walk away like a normal person #AND NOW WE BEGIN #I HAD TO THROW AWAY MY PHONE 3 TIMES TAYLOR THREE FUCKING TIMES #STOP WRITING ART OKAY IT MAKES ME ALL GOOEY AND EMOTIONAL #HOW DARE YOU #ok but the way you wrote peros POV SHUT UPPPPPP!!! that little part about being the outsider the foreigner the one who doesnt fit in #STOP LOOKING INSIDE MY BRAIN MAAM #and then the whole dynamic between pero and his ranita like??? CHEFS KISS #when he asks her to fight while hes using his beautiful words (the role switch the painful vulnerability of doing what they're not good at)#I CANT #the fact that shes scared to fight because she knows she might lose pero (and he own sense of self???)#contradictory to pero being afraid to speak his feelings because all the words in any language couldnt explain how he feels like FUCK OFF #shut up im weak for them #ive had them for 2 minutes but I'll set the world on fire for them #and the SMUT??? your smut always hits harder because the way you effortlessly make it a way of communication n love n a show of commitment??#WHAT IS THIS SORCERY TAYLOR #you lure me in with victorian arrange marriage and star crossed lover vibes AND THEN YOU HIT ME WITH SOFT VULNERABLE FLUFF #JAIL!!! JAIL FOR MOTHER FOR A THOUSAND YEARS #please never stop #every single time you drop a fic you rewrite my brain chemistry #how is this possible #i love u so much im so blessed to see u shine every single day #ok enough mush gonna tackle you to the ground and aggressively make out with you now #*launches at you*#P.S the day you launch A/B/O Joel is the day i vault myself into the sun k thanks bye

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hard-core-super-star · 2 months ago

Text

sudden desire [K.Bishop + Y.Belova]

pairing: dom!yelena belova x sub!reader x switch!kate bishop

summary: after yelena dissapears on an unknown mission for a month, kate decides to take things into her own hands and encourage her to come home. things don't go exactly as planned for her on the blonde's return.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> dom/sub dynamics; implied pet play {collars, yelena using 'pet' and 'kotenok'}; orgasm denial; bondage; fingering; oral; sex toys; a dash of overstimulation; praise + degredation; kate's a brat and proud of it; yelena's mean but a secret softie; a SEVERE lack of proof-reading!

wordcount: 4.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! kinktober may be over but i got too attached to this idea and had to finish it. i have so many thoughts and feelings about this fic but i will save them and let you guys read it and form your own opinions about this dynamic. personally, i am OBSESSED with them and i would love to expand this little universe a little more. despite this being mostly shameless smut, there are quite a few feelings involved, especially regarding yelena and how being in this dynamic helps her unwind in a way without things being strictly sexual. so yeah, there's a lot but i really hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It doesn't take a genius to figure out Yelena has been acting off for the past few weeks.

It isn't unusual for her to be a little distant. Still a little rough around the edges, thanks to the unbelievable amounts of trauma she keeps hidden inside herself. Things are different this time, though.

It's been days since she's shown up at the apartment, even longer since she's returned one of your calls. She never goes more than a few days without letting you know where she is, that she's okay and simply busy on whatever mission has taken her attention this time.

Kate tells you not to worry, that the Russian is probably just caught up in whatever mess she's discovered. You know better than that.

Unfortunately for the archer, you learned what the constant furrowing of her eyebrows means a long time ago.

Unfortunately for you, she's far too good at distracting you, always knowing exactly what to do, exactly what to say to steal all your thoughts away.

She can't fully erase your worry, though. Not that she'd even try, considering she feels the same way. Underneath all her stupid jokes, there's an edge of uncertainty she can't quite hide. It weighs her down more than anything else.

You both know Yelena could disappear in an instant if she wanted to. She could throw it all to the wind and never be heard from again if she so pleased.

She'd promised she wouldn't do it, though. Reassured you and Kate that after spending so long without a stable place to call home, she wanted to stay with you two. She wanted to be with you two.

It had taken very little to convince Kate to agree. Despite their rocky beginning, the chemistry they shared was obvious to even the most oblivious. Instead of being jealous about it like you maybe should have, you were intrigued and maybe more than a little attracted to it.

To them and the borderline overwhelming confidence they seem to exude together.

You've never been one for liking simple things, though, and the challenge of keeping them from going at each other's throats acts like an aphrodisiac most nights.

For all their bickering, they're surprisingly easy to manage. Except when it comes to the intricate play sessions Yelena enjoys setting up.

The details of what your relationship had turned into were mostly lost on you. All you knew was that whatever the Russian says goes...and Kate was bound to get punished for not doing as she was told.

As much as Yelena loves to complain about it, you all know she secretly loves it. Loves the thrill that comes with being in charge. That safe rush that takes over her mind and allows her to act without thinking. To command respect in a way she'd never experienced before.

It was a change of pace from what you were used to with Kate, that was for sure. Despite the uncharted territory, you'd gotten used to it far faster than you would have ever imagined. They both made it easy and there was something about the submission Yelena expected from you that made your heart race.

You'd never experienced anything like it before, but you couldn't deny how much you liked it. How much you craved it when she was gone.

Kate does what she can to make the time without the blonde more bearable. You're thankful for her, for the way she knows what you need without even having to ask, but it's not the same. A part of you feels guilty about it. Like there's something wrong with you for wanting to have both of your girlfriends with you.

The archer doesn't seem to mind, though. You know she feels the exact same way you do. As incredible as being with each other is, Yelena brings something different to your relationship. Something extra that you both thrive off of.

Maybe that's what makes Kate employ such...interesting persuasion tactics.

Once the days turn into weeks which turn into a month, the archer's patience wears thin. Just because you both know Yelena's silence must be due to a dangerous mission doesn't mean you're okay with the lack of communication.

Your impatience starts blending with Kate's and before you know it, you're caught in the middle of one of her "incredible" plans.

"Come on, babe," she says, her lips pulling into that all-familiar smirk. "Maybe all Yelena needs is a good incentive. Don't you want her to see what a good girl you're being for me?"

Her words do a good job convincing you, but they're not enough. You know all too well how cruel the Russian can be when she feels she's been disrespected. And the archer playing with you without permission is definitely off-limits.

It's hard to deny Kate when she's looking at you like that, though. With those sparkling eyes and that suggestive smirk.

"I don't know, Katie, it feels like a bad idea," you reply, ignoring the way she keeps leaning closer and closer to you.

"Maybe but bad ideas are the most fun, aren't they?"

You can't exactly argue with that, considering the many stupid things you've done together that have led to incredible pleasure. Although, truth be told, the archer is usually the one who has to bear the burden of whatever punishment comes after. You wish you could say you feel bad about that but...she is the one who comes up with most ideas.

You're in the middle of trying to form a response when Kate leans in to capture your lips in a heated kiss. It's impossible to stop yourself from kissing her back, your hands moving up to tangle in her messy hair.

You pull her closer to you until she's straddling your lap, practically trapping you between her and the couch. You'd love to complain, but she feels far too good against you for you to even try.

Her kisses make your mind spin until nothing remains except her. She knows this, of course, because she knows you so damn well.

When she pulls away, she's breathless yet somehow still smiling like you put the stars in the sky. "I think you're coming around to my idea."

She's not wrong but the smugness in her tone pisses you off a little. "I still think it's stupid."

"I never said it wasn't." Kate rolls her hips, tantalizingly grinding down against you. "But I promise you'll have a good time."

You groan as your head leans back against the couch with a soft thump. "You're gonna get us in so much trouble."

"Yelena loves her little troublemakers, though."

"Oh my God, please stop talking."

"Not until you agree." Her lips find their way onto your jaw, pressing soft kisses and teasing bites to your skin. "...please."

It's a low blow and he knows it, but it's impossible to deny the archer when she asks for things so nicely. "Ugh, fine, just don't tie the ropes so tight this time."

Kate agrees and before you know it, you're naked and tied up with the purple rope the archer loves to use on you. To top everything off, she wrapped her collar around your neck, something that was bound to get a reaction out of the Russian.

You and Kate were her pets and while she allowed the archer to stake some claims of dominance over you, this one was off-limits. Not that Kate cared much. She was usually a lot better at doing things behind the blonde's back, though.

What Yelena didn't know didn't hurt her, but now, she was about to be dragged into something she wasn't going to be very happy to see.

Sending her pictures of the evidence is one thing, but Kate wants more. She always does.

So, she brings out more toys, stuffing your cunt with a thick dildo and pressing a relentless vibrator to your puffy clit. The pleasure is more than enough to drown out your thoughts and objections which means you barely flinch when Kate takes her phone out again. She records the way you squirm for her, the way you moan her name like a prayer, and then, to top it all off, she sends the videos to a very pissed off Russian.

It takes a while for the consequences of the archer's actions to catch up to you.

Since Yelena's obviously busy, it takes her a few days to come back. You're not home when she arrives, having gone out to run a quick errand, but Kate is.

Which means you're met with quite the situation on your return.

The second you close the apartment door behind you, you're slammed against it, a gentle yet firm hand wrapping itself around your throat. You freak out for about a second until your senses catch up to reality and the smoky scent of Yelena's cologne hits your nose.

Almost instantly, you relax into her hold and meet her dark green eyes. There are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but you can tell she's not in the mood for it. Her mind is completely set on the scene she already started without you.

"Hi, detka. Did you miss me?"

You do your best to nod despite how difficult her grip on your throat makes it.

"Yes? Well, that is not what Kate Bishop told me a few days ago. She said you were being a naughty slut for her."

Her words make your heart drop into your stomach. You knew Kate's plan was stupid, but you didn't think she would throw you under the bus like that. What a cheeky little traitor.

"Do not worry, kotenok, Kate and I already worked things out. Would you like to see?"

Without waiting for a response, she moves her hand from your throat to your hand, gently tugging on it to lead you toward the living room. You go with her and your eyes are instantly drawn to Kate's figure on the couch, tied up in a pattern strikingly similar to the one she'd used on you mere days ago.

The biggest difference, though, is the large, purple dildo stuffed inside her cunt. Just from looking at her, you know exactly what her punishment is going to be for stepping out of line the way she did. You have to admit, though, she looks incredible like this. Gagged and wearing her purple collar with the leash attached.

"What do you think?" Yelena asks, her tone giving away how proud she is of herself.

"She looks good," you reply, earning yourself a smile from the Russian and a muffled whine from the archer.

As much as you sympathize with Kate, you can't say you didn't warn her.

A soft squeeze to your hand makes you turn to look at Yelena again. There's a familiar softness in her features as she looks at you, almost as if she's trying to read you, trying to figure out if you're on the same page as her. You know where that insecurity comes from and you're more than ready to wipe any and all doubts from her mind.

It's easier said than done, though, and the first step is always the hardest.

Thankfully, Yelena takes it for you.

"Kneel."

It's a single word, barely a command, but the storms hidden in her green eyes don't lie. She needs this just as much as you need her.

So, even though you crave comfort more than submission right now, you do exactly what she says. You drop down onto your knees in the middle of the living room, doing your best to ignore the way Kate squirms on the couch.

Yelena steps forward, her hand reaching out to caress your face. "You look so good like this, malishka. You understand pets should be seen and not heard, right? Or do I need to teach you a lesson too?"

You shake your head, not feeling particularly enthused about receiving a punishment already. Then again, you're sure if the blonde really wanted to, she'd do it anyway, regardless of your good behavior.

"Good."

It's not entirely praise, but her voice carries a twinge of affection that makes Kate whine. You don't know what happened between them, what exactly the archer did to piss off the blonde so much, but you know she's paying for it now. Which means, in some weird way, you're paying for it too.

Yelena admires you for a long moment, silently watching your reactions, watching the way you submit deeper and deeper with eveyr second that goes by. She loves Kate, she really does, but there's something about the ease with which she can control you that does things to her that she can't explain.

It's not about the pleasure. At least, not fully.

It's not even about the power she holds over you right now.

It's about the control. About being able to not worry and know you'll do exactly what she wants.

She doesn't have to guess or think too hard.

You're both on opposite ends of the same spectrum. You both need each other to stop the fears and the worries. To quiet your thoughts until nothing remains but each other...and the whiny, puppy-like switch squirming on the couch.

It's strange, but it works. You all work. And it's absolutely terrifying because none of you have ever experienced anything like this before. You've never wanted anything the way you want each other.

"What do you want from me tonight, detka?" The blonde asks, her voice still soft despite the hardness on her face. "I will give you anything you desire."

Her words carry far more weight than you want to think about right now. You want to simply focus on the scene. On the role you have to play here.

It's hard, though, when Yelena's looking at you with an adoration that rivals Kate's. It's not like the Russian doesn't love you. You know she does. She just shows it in ways that aren't super compatible with you.

Right now, though...right now, it's working for you far more than it should be. All you can think about is how much you missed her, how badly you want to be under her control once more.

You're not sure how to articulate what you're looking for. All you can do is hope the blonde can make sense of the messy thoughts in your head.

"I just want you," you reply, your words a touch too vulnerable for your liking. "Want you to take control. To touch me until I can't take it anymore."

After spending the past few weeks taking orders from rich people who pay well but don't understand what it takes to kill a person, your request sounds like music to her ears. It's almost laughable how easy it'll be to fufill your desires, to give you exactly what you want until you can't think about anything else but her.

"I can work with that," she says, the corners of her mouth curling up into a wicked smirk. "As long as you are okay without Kate Bishop?"

The question catches you a little off-guard. Not because you're particuarly in need of the stubborn archer, but because she is. Yelena's a good domme, no one can deny that, and yet she hesitates to use you without Kate breathing down her neck.

She must be really pissed off if she wants to keep her off to the side and away from the action.

"Yeah, I'm okay with that." Your words are true, but you can't deny your curiosity so you push a little more. "Is she only allowed to watch?"

"Until I decide she has learned her lesson."

Yelena's response makes Kate cry out again. All the blonde has to do is look up and glare to get her to quiet down. It's scary how angry she seems to be...and also really, really hot.

Especially when she looks back down at you and her eyes soften. "Present yourself for me, kotenok. Remind me what I have been missing."

You don't waste any time in scrambling into position. Kate's eyes seem to burn through you while you get onto your hands and knees in front of Yelena, pushing your ass back just a little.

Despite the clothes you're still wearing, you feel incredibly exposed.

That feeling only intensifies as the blonde walks around you, circling you slowly and taking in every inch of your body. You're not sure where to look, stuck between wanting to duck your head in a show of submission and keeping your eyes on Kate, watching the frustration that blooms across her beautiful features.

Thankfully, Yelena doesn't like keeping you guessing. She enjoys clear commands, leaving none of you with doubts about what she's looking for. "Keep your eyes on her, datka. You too, Kate Bishop."

You let out a hum in response while the archer in front of you huffs and squirms around in her restraints. You have to admit...the sight is incredible.

The Russian settles behind you, a callused hand reaching out to caress down your spine. It takes you a second longer to realize you feel more than just her hand. However, as soon as the thought hits you, she steals them all away with a precise slice of her trusty combat knife.

It shouldn't be surprising, and yet you still gasp, your back arching while she cuts away your clothes. "Do not worry, detka, Kate Bishop will you buy a new outfit. Isn't that right, pet?"

Kate all but glares at you. You know it's not about you. Whatever issues they're having are unfortunatly being worked out through you, but you're not the problem. Hell, maybe there isn't even a problem. Maybe they're just having fun pushing back against each other because they can.

You honestly don't know. But the uncertainty makes everything all the more pleasurable. At least for you. You're not sure the archer can say the same thing.

Yelena makes quick work of your clothes, allowing them to drop to the ground and reveal your dripping cunt. You can't see her smirk, but you feel it in the way her fingers skim over your skin. Light enough to tease but hard enough to remind you not to move. To stay nice and still while she has her fun.

"Look at you. So desperate already. You truly amaze me, kotenok. Always so ready for me to use your pretty holes."

Your walls clench around pure air, making the smirk on the blonde's face grow wider. She can't stop herself from sinking onto her knees behind you and reaching out to touch you.

Two fingers tease and prod at your entrance while she watches you shake and shudder under her touch. She spreads your lips apart just to watch the way your cunt flutters around nothing. A part of her wants to draw this out, you're sure of it, but she's missed you just as much as you've missed her. (Maybe more, but she'd never admit that out loud. Especially not with Kate around)

"You are so good for me, so perfect. All for me to use."

You open your mouth to reply, more out of instinct than a need to say something, but all that comes out is borderline pathetic moan as the blonde works her fingers into your pussy.

She sets a slow pace, almost as if she's taking her time exploring you. The slow speed does little to soothe the fire burning low in your belly but it does help ease your desperation. Not by much, of course, and you're sure the blonde knows that.

Almost as if on cue, Yelena's other hand joins the fun, thumb drawing circles on your sensitive clit. The action catches you off-guard and you barely manage to balance yourself instead of falling face-first onto the ground below you.

Your reaction makes her laugh, but what really entertains her is the struggle Kate is visibly going through.

The archer has always thrived off your pleasure. Always gotten off on your desperate sounds, on the way you lose control over your body, on the palpable desperation that stretches itself over your features. Today is no different. Except for the fact she can't get off.

Sure, her cunt is stuffed full and the dildo keeps rubbing up against her in the best way whenever she squirms around too much, but it's not nearly enough. Her clit throbs painfully, swollen and in desperate need of attention. She won't be getting anything right now, though. Not until Yelena decides she's learned her lesson...or until Kate manages to make herself cum.

"Look at her, malyshka. And here I thought you were the needy one."

You do look at Kate, more out of habit than anything else. She's a vision. Flushed, desperate, and so squirmy it's a miracle she hasn't fallen off the couch.

The sight of her makes you clench around Yelena's fingers, greedily trying to pull them in deeeper. Neither of you are surprised, but it does make the blonde a little more competitive than usual.

She suddenly increases her speed, curling her fingers just enough to have you pushing back against her in search of more. "Such a greedy little pet. You are lucky I like seeing you like this. Although..."

Her words trail off and you instantly know she's coming up with something new. Some other way of making you submit to her, of playing with both of you until Kate stops trying to be a smartass. You doubt that'll happen, but you know Yelena will try anyway.

Whatever the Russian comes up with, she doesn't say anything more, instead going right back to fucking into your cunt. She works a third finger into your walls, stretching you on the digits while she mercilessly rubs your clit.

You can feel it building. The pleasure reaching and reaching toward a fever pitch that will leave you fuzzy-headed and thoughtless. It's so close. You open your mouth, obediently getting ready to ask for permission like a good pet, when suddenly...she removes her fingers from you.

You try your hardest to hold on to some semblance of composure, but you can't. Not when you were so close and full and feeling so good.

A whine makes its way out of your throat and you promptly earn yourself a hard smack to your ass.

"Do not be a brat. You do not want to join Kate Bishop, correct?"

Your response is instantaneous. "No. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, kotenok. But I still need you to behave, okay?"

You nod and Yelena smiles at your quick change of mood. She doesn't say anything else, merely motions for you to crawl forward, toward Kate and the mess between her legs.

Your body moves before you can even comprehend what you're doing. You crawl toward the archer, coming to a stop right between her spread legs, courtesy of Yelena shifting her around until she was sitting up. You tilt your head back to look up at the blonde, waiting slightly impatiently for her command.

You have a feeling you already know what it's going to be.

Yelena takes her time, though. Pretending to be busy adjusting Kate's posture and spreading her thighs for you to see the mess she's made of herself.

Once she's satisfied, and your nose is full of the scent of the archer's arousal, she finally tells you to move. "You know what to do, detka. Make the brat scream your name."

If Kate has any objections, they're swallowed up by her moans once your tongue finds its way onto her clit. It practically pulses beneath you and you waste no time wrapping your lips around the bud and sucking. Hard.

The archer tries to squirm away from you, caught somewhere between her sensitivity and her desperate need for an orgasm. Yelena holds her steady while she keeps her eyes on you. She doesn't really need to, she already knows you know what to do.

You technically don't have permission to touch so you put all your focus into making Kate fall apart with just your mouth. The frantic bucking of her hips tells you all you need to know about how she's feeling. You've never been so jealous of a dildo before, wishing it was your fingers she was clenching around instead.

The archer doesn't seem to mind, though, head thrown back against Yelena, muffled whines leaving her gagged mouth. Whatever the blonde is saying to her is a mere whisper, a secret between them, perfectly crafted to make her fall apart.

You double your efforts, sucking her clit and dragging your tongue along the surface. Your eyes are glued to her face, to the pleasure that spreads along every inch of it, to the rapid heaving of her chest as she tries to keep herself under control. It's useless, though. You all know she's on the edge of losing her composure. Of letting her usual brattiness fade away until all that remains is Yelena's power over her.

Kate's shaking increases in intensity, giving away just how close she is to falling apart. She can't exactly ask for permission due to being gagged but then again, she doesn't need to. Yelena already knows. She always knows.

"Come on, Kate Bishop. Do not tell me you forgot the rules already. I was hoping I would be able to reward you for doing such a good job."

The archer bucks into your mouth, making you moan against her. The vibrations do little to soothe the burning in her core and it takes all her willpower to not fall apart right then and there.

All she can do, though, is let out a string of incoherent mumbles, tinged with a whiny edge that makes Yelena smirk. Those sounds are nowhere near the words she's meant to be saying, the desperate begging the blonde loves hearing from her.

"It sounds like someone does not want the reward I'm offering. What a shame..." She trails off purposely, doing it just to mess with the archer's head.

Kate bites. Of course, she does. As much as she loves to pretend, and as stubborn as she can be most days, she loves this. Loves the rush that comes with the blonde's power over her. There's pleasure in the pushback, but it's when she lets go that she truly feels the weight of it.

You don't slow down for a second. You know it makes things much harder for your girlfriend, but you can't really help it. You're intoxicated by the smell of her, by the taste of her never-ending arousal.

She continues to let out strings of mumbles and whines, each sound growing more desperate than the last. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, giving away just how much she's struggling to hold her orgasm off.

As mean as Yelena can be sometimes, she's not cruel. She only drags the moment out for a few extra seconds before her hand curls into Kate's hair, dragging her head back to expose her delicate throat. "I know, I know. Go ahead, cum for me, darling. You did good."

It's unclear which part of the Russian's words gets to the archer, but it doesn't matter, the effect is the same.

Her whole body stills for a second, a strangled cry getting caught in her throat as she comes undone.

You moan with her which helps drag out the pleasure crashing into her like waves. You work overtime to lap up her release, drinking in her essence and soothing her overwhelming sensitivity as best as you can. It doesn't seem to work considering how violent her shaking becomes, but you don't have any complaints.

Yelena's hand somehow finds its way onto your hair next and she pulls you off the whining archer. "Such a good pet for me. Good girl, kotenok. Will you help me with Kate? She is...a little out of it."

You know what she means. Mainly because you can see it but also because of the way the blonde drops off Kate's last name. You're not fully sure why she has such a fascination with using your girlfriend's full name all the time. All you know is her habit instantly dissapears when the archer's submissive side comes out.

It's not too surprising, though, considering how badly Kate craves comfort and connection in those moments.

A part of you wants to complain since you still haven't gotten your orgasm, but you know better.

You stand up on shaky legs and help Yelena untie the brunette. Leaving the collar on is a no-brainer and even though her whines are pitiful, you slide the dildo out of her.

You pepper kisses across her skin the entire time, instantly recognizing how glossy her eyes are, how far away her mind seems to be. She's as beautiful as ever, in your opinion.

In no time, the three of you are snuggled up in bed. Kate's still really floaty, you're on the edge of going totally fuzzy, and Yelena is happier than she's been in weeks.

Maybe it's weird but you really don't fucking care. Not when Kate's head is resting in your lap and you're completely relaxed lounging in between Yelena's legs.

#kate bishop x reader #yelena belova x reader #bishova x reader #bishova smut #bishova #kate bishop #yelena belova #kate bishop smut #yelena belova smut #hawkeye #black widow #avengers fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu imagine #wlw fic #writing

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leeknow-thoughts · 30 days ago

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𝅄 ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x you #stray kids #lee minho smut #lee know scenarios #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #lee minho #lee know x reader

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loving-family-poll · 1 year ago

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Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

#tournament polls #tumblr polls #incest poll #wincest #samdean #spn #daverose #dersecest #homestuck #semifinals #tw incest

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byuntrash101 · 1 year ago

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realistic sex with wooyoung

wooyoung x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: woo is the next entry to this series where i try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.

right off the bat: wooyoung is a huge flirt. you (and the whole entire universe) have always known that. i feel like to be compatible with woo you have to be aware of that. you might have to be a bit of a flirt yourself.

i feel you guys were constantly bickering and then flirting and then bickering again because that's just how the dynamic felt right for you. whether it’s bickering or flirting it’s always playful and for the latter each time one of you would take it a notch further just to see the other cave in and giggle and back away then it’s back to bickering playfully.

at some point he didn’t back away and giggle and you didn’t either and it happened. you kissed and that felt electrifying. all those pent up feelings you both started to develop for each other but both masked with humor and witty jokes and love/hate disses got out at once.

all these feelings got pour into that one fateful kiss that sealed something into you.

i feel that's how your story started. it just all flowed very naturally. both guided by just your gut feeling about each other.

once you got together together the bickering didn’t stop at all. because it’s just what you do, what you always did. except now he’s not just “stupid” he’s your “stupid bf”.

actually maybe the bickering got even worse because you both just unlocked a whole new layer of the relationship that allows you to be more secure and therefore even more annoying (lovingly).

you’re that kind of couple that if people aren't close to you and don’t know how you function you don’t seem right for each other when in fact it couldn’t be further from the truth. because your chemistry and passive understanding of each other is unmatched. because you are both adaptive (more on that laterrrrr wink wonk blink blonk) you can read the room you know when it’s time to annoy him and when it’s time to cuddle

speaking of that cuddling/kissing/lovey dovey shit. that tile can be ANYTIME wooyoung just gets into the touchy mood UNANNOUNCED. it doesn't matter if there’s 8 billion people watching or you’re all alone. he absolutely will launch himself into your arms and demand to be babied or wrap his arms around you and squeeze the life out of you until he’s satisfied with the amount of touchy feely time he’s got with you.

he will also sneak in neck kisses and he doesn’t care if you’re ticklish or if you are just in the dorm couch and jongho and joong are there judging because they both don’t get pda. but that's because they get the urge that wooyoung feels when he craves to be near you to feel your skin and your warmth to feel your heart beating next to his. they don’t get it but he doesn’t care because you understand, you get him.

our pda king (bend the knee)

you’re just perfect for each other

remember that bit about woo being adaptive? i think the perfect person for wooyoung has to share that trait with him and that has to apply in the bedroom because i am convinced this man is a rare specimen of a perfect 50/50 switch.

okay like you know everyone is always like “woo #1 babygirl” and i can't agree more he is the ultimate but hear me out

sure woo is a brat everyone can agree with that but have you seen how the members respect him? he makes it very clear to them that sometimes it’s okay to pull his leg and sometimes it’s not. sometimes i feel they're low-key scared of him. have you seen the look he gives when he's mad? that screams dom to me (argue with the wall)

one time he’d be all whiny and literally beg on his knees for you to have your way with him. flashing you the pleading puppy eyes being all like “please y/n. pleasepleaseplease touch me. i-i can’t take it anymore” while he produces the most delectable fingerlicking good pathetic little moans and ruts his hips against your thigh in the dead of the night because little baby got a excited by an extra realistic dream. of course you cave in immediately but he doesn’t need to know that so you tease just a little (or a lot) before giving him what he wants. “aww baby? what do you want?” you say running your nails up his bare thighs, making him shiver. before you finally grab a hold of his hard and dripping cock. and then it’s all broken thank you’s and high pitched moans until he shakes and cums all over your hand.

other times he’s the one in control. and he does it oh so well. getting you really needy without even touching you. cause i think wooyoung as a way with words when it comes to foreplay. if you’re both having a lazy morning in bed it would only take minutes for him to lean over you and whisper all kinds of dirty things in your ear until you feel yourself getting sticky between the thighs and you can't help squirming to find some friction.

i think he absolutely loves seeing you like this he loves the power he has over you when you allow him

when you’re too far gone and your eyes are half lidded and your mind has slipped into another layer of your consciousness he would ask you “baby~ why are you squirming like this?” and he would be so happy to only hear desperate whimpers as replies. “you want me to touch you?” queue the evil smirk™. you know the one! that one smirk only the jung wooyoung can pull. just picture him! over you, soft lips stretched into a sly little smirk, displaying his shiny teeth, the mischievous and satisfied glint in his fox-like eyes????? ughhhhh. typical wooyoung!! so on brand!!!!!

one other thing that’s typical wooyoung behaviour is being loud af and that doesn't stop when he steps in the bedroom. woo is vocal with anything dirty talk and moans. he will fucking surround dolby 7.1 sound those moans and grunts and pants right in your ear and tell you everytime he’s about to stuff you full of cum for your enjoyment.

but one thing is certain whether he’s subbing or domming that boy likes it ROUGH. he likes to be put back in his place as much as he likes to put you back in yours (we love a couple of switches that found each other <3).

woo is probably one of the freakiest of the group. along with hwa and joong. but when hwa’s freakiness is mainly brought out by your own. he will be more or less freaky depending on you because he’s a pleaser he wants you to feel good. joong and woo, on the other hand are consistently freaky.

i think woo is low-key a sadist. he loves pain play. i feel he enjoys impact play especially if their’s visible marks that are left there to testify of what he did to you/you did to him. he loves to know you belong to each other and he would look with adoration at his bruised knees (stayed there for hours to worship you) the next day.

but that’s not it! i think woo’s kink of predilection is ✨degradation✨ (no one is surprised he literally admitted it himself) that's the big one for him and i feel for you too (yeah ik you). well it’s got to be. because if you guys became a thing because you were non stop roasting each other that shit would only hide something latent underneath all this bickering. and that ladies and gents is a degradation kink (i dont make the rules).

that being said i think at the beginning of the relationship wooyoung was a little unsure about it. he knew he liked it but he didn’t initiate it and he could have creamed his pants the first time you slipped a little derogatory comment to test the waters yourself. i imagine it at a house party (maybe a mutual’s friends apartment) a little after you both made it official. there’s music you’re both dancing and you slip your hand in his hair and you give it a sharp pull it with that he let out a moan right into your ear that was fortunately covered by the music but you heard him clear as day and right after you felt the consequences of your actions pressed hard against your stomach. you instinctively push your body even closer to wooyoung and you smirk up at him when his cheeks flush pink. “you got hard in the middle of this crowd just because i pulled on your hair a little?” you leaned in to whisper in his ear “that’s disgusting”. the magic words! you felt him twitch against your stomach and his hot breath quickened as it fanned your ear. “fuck” he cursed under his breath trying so hard not to give in to his primal instincts and just dry hump you right then and there. “please say that again” you heard him beg in your ear before exhaling a big shaky sigh of need. “you’re a disgusting little pervert” and 0.000002 secs later he was hushering you in the guest bathroom and to fuck your brains inside you out.

after that you unlocked a new stage in your relationship. you could get a little mean (aka very mean he likes it when you’re very mean) and he could be himself fully. making you beg on your knees for his cock. calling you his little slut, his cum hungry whore, his perfect little cocksleeve. and it was all said lovingly and it felt right for the both of you

happy freaky little couple ugh so cute im gonna barf

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

a/n: finally back with this series! please give me lots of love because im finally getting out of a terrible writer's block :(

want to see another member? request it in the comments or asks <3

realistic sex with seonghwa, with mingi, with yunho, with san

ateez masterlist | navigation

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xxximortalxxx · 5 months ago

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As much as you guys hate to admit it, the Five and Lila pairing makes sense and was not at all utter bullshit as you guys are making it seem.

From the time Lila was introduced, she came in as a strong character that's wild, sexy, fun, and a bit deranged. She's a badass character! And what happens? She meets Diego in a point in her life where she was at the height of chaos and adventure. They fall in love, or in a toxic situationship filled with family drama and mother/father issues.

Now let's look at Five. His situation is overall fucked. Imagine being some kid that grew up with space/time travel powers and getting stuck in time, having to grow up pretty much before all of his siblings, and then having to come back in his KID body and still have to fix THEIR problems on top of dealing with his own mental issues that he acquired and loneliness. Reminder that he would not have had a partner due to his inconvenient life/appearance.

Lila and Diego are in this marriage with kids after trying to live a "normal" life. Lila feels stuck because she basically trauma bonded with some guy that happened to be there and was able to put up with her issues and vice versa. Diego was convenient. And from what I see, she really just wanted to make a family she didn't have. Their relationship is kinda out of obligation for their kids at this point, and neither of them are happy.

At this point, Five and Lila get stuck in time together after having previously been on opposite sides but coming together for family sake. From the beginning they matched each other's energy and even I would say they complement each other. They both have explosive personalities filled with sarcasm, snark, and a bit of humor. They both enjoy danger and a rough tussle. That's all they have known.

At this point, both Five and Lila have experienced so much in their lives, so much adventure already. They are ready to settle down, because sometimes love is the adventure you're looking for in this crazy world.

And look I get it. Badass lady is reduced to housewife trope that shouldn't exist unless within character. But can we really say this is out of character for Lila? She always does the unexpected, so her going off to be a spy is what we would expect, for her and Five.

And I also get that you guys think that Five would never betray his family like that. This isn't a perfect world and neither are these characters. If anything, we've seen Five do things for his own self interest over what the family/others want. Same for Lila.

Add in the loneliness of DECADES from Five and the trapped loneliness Lila feels within her marriage, and the fact they they go on another mission together over SEVEN years, mixed with their explosive dynamic and you have a pairing.

And explosion seems to be the theme for this season right? With Ben and Jennifer. Sometimes 2 exlosive chemicals become more stable rather than creating a blast. And maybe each other is what Five and Lila needed. They both understand each other in ways Diego could never understand Lila. Lila also understands Five's predicament like no other, having lived it first hand with him in the Seven years. It's only natural that they would come together. Lila and Diego were eventually going to divorce because they weren't compatible. Lila has always had the most chemistry with Five.

I get the cheating and in no way do I excuse it, but these characters have no idea when they will ever get back home and if. I think they would go absolutely crazy if they didn't have each other. In this time, they realized how similar they are and ended up being a better match. They found what they were looking for in each other. And you can't deny their connection like come on.

In my experience, in the real world, love is messy and not perfect. Sometimes finding love is your next adventure after you've live a life like no other. Maybe this will be good for them.

Also, they writers arent crazy or out of pocket, you guys just need to grow up.

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ppeonppeonhan · 6 months ago

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So My Stand-In just ended, and We Are & Wandee Goodday end next week. We still got Knock Knock, Boys!, My Love Mix-Up!, The Rebound, Love Sea, and SunsetxVibes for a while, but...

4 Minutes (Action | Drama | Sci-Fi)

It took Bible almost 2 years to crawl out of that Build fiasco, and the fandom is primed to see him again with all of the ominous and sultry clips of the series they've been teasing us with.

Obviously, it looks promising 👀 but I'm most excited to see him in action again, and to explore another supernatural Thai drama -- this time about precognition (aka seeing the future). It'll be even more interesting to explore what it's like to be in a relationship when you BOTH have that ability. Does it prevent missteps or prove they're inevitable? We'll also get to see if Sammon, co-writer of the haunting Dead Friend Forever, will haunt us with every project.

Battle of the Writers (Rom Com)

Tutor and Yim of Middleman's Love are joined by not one, but FIVE other couples in this adaptation of a Chinese webtoon where one of them is accused of plagiarizing the other. I love a love-hate dynamic, but I can't imagine Yim resisting Tutor for long, so we'll see.

Century of Love (Action | Drama | Romance | Supernatural)

Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Girl dies. Boy uses magic stone to stay alive and agrees to die a tragic death if he doesn't find his reincarnated girl after 100 years. The Gods said "Ally!", sent her ass back as a boy the last year of that century, as if to say: "Oh, are you really in love? Prove it!" Boy, understandably, doesn't recognize girl. Suspense and tension ensue.

Really enjoying how the supernatural genre is slowly becoming as prominent as the high school / college romance settings. Please give me more of The Sign. But I'm, honestly, not really a fan of the actor Daou, which made it hard to endure their last series together, Love in Translation. Mostly in it for cheeky and adorable Offroad -- and the plot, obviously.

This Love Doesn’t Have Long Beans (Rom Com)

So what I gather from the trailer is that a douchey rich guy hires a model to seduce a chef into making him his successor. Fuzzy on the why, but am far more interested in how that rich guy seduces the model's very aggressive bestie. Double the love-hate. Double the fun.

The Pit Babe writers wasted NO time capitalizing on the success of their series, and their pairings. Not only is this an answer to the Jeff and Alan fandom's pleas for more, it's also a response to the ghost ship of Kim and Kenta. We've never felt so seen. Also, I'm loving Thailand's Chef era.

The Trainee (Comedy | Drama | Romance)

A production intern slowly realizes the assistant director that everybody fears is low-key kindhearted -- and a whole ass snack. PAPI!!!

Love me some OffGun. Cooking Crush was meh but I have high hopes for this one. Per uje, their chemistry is immaculate.

DATE: Mid-July 2024

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jmdbjk · 4 months ago

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Traveling is my thing too...

I'm still marinating in my Are You Sure?! afterglow. I just loved every part of it, every minute of the episodes and behinds. There is one thing that's been on my mind and I know it might ruffle some people because of how it sounds at first.

Jimin and Jungkook spontaneously created "scenes" for Are You Sure?!. Prompted each other for the sake of making content. Another facet of being good entertainers...

They were trying to be content creators and not rely on others to tell them what to say or do. The total opposite of "scripted" which, of course, means the shows were unscripted and made up as the days' activities unfolded.

They both actively initiated moments they could play off each other. This is part of that now-becoming-over-used word we say to describe their dynamic... chemistry.

Was it fake? No. The moments they created were genuine interactions whether it was an inside joke of theirs or just talking about topics like cosmic horror or origins of slang words. Not any different than how we behave with our own close friends and significant others. We initiate conversation topics, we poke at each other, we talk about stupid shit, we sometimes have heartfelt and meaningful conversations.

In other words, we are authentic with our closest people. That's what humans do. And as we also are so comfortable with our friends and significant others, we can also have quiet time just being in the presence of the other. IT'S ALL NORMAL AND NOT FAKE.

Was it fan service? No. Again, they were being content creators, trying to create something that was purely them, purely normal interactions only they could have with each other.

Do they have off moments? Of course they do. When one or the other was not active in the interaction, the other was just being themselves, no faking, no fan service, just Jimin and Jungkook behaving as themselves, the only way they know to behave, in the presence of the other, nothing negative about it, just "being."

But they were on a mission to create content that they knew Army would enjoy while they were away. With a big smile, Jungkook said we'll really enjoy it. He said this before he got in that Jeep and drove away to Connecticut. He already knew before it started that he and Jimin were going to have fun. They trust us, their fans, to enjoy the things they give us. Those who do not enjoy it are not their fans.

I've seen people say they only watched a few clips and not the entire series of AYS and then conclude "its obvious (insert fave name) feels this or that." No Boo, you can't deduce those things from a 5 second slo-mo clip or a screen cap from a split second moment from an 8 episode series (9 hours of interactions between the members). What IS obvious is these people don't want to know the truth.

If you don't watch original content in its entirety, how could you possibly "know" your fave/bias? Especially this particular series. If you are a fan of Jimin, Jungkook or even Taehyung, if you did not watch the entire episodes, your opinion is meaningless. If you based your opinions on select snippets or screenshots with no context, your opinion is meaningless because you don't have the entire story. You have every right to say you don't like it and won't watch it because it doesn't align with your (false) idea of who Jimin, Jungkook and even Tae are. But in doing that, you should also remind yourself you are clinging to your own fantasies of who they are.

If you had access and were able to watch all of the episodes on Disney+, many thanks for helping to make this project of Jungkook and Jimin's a resounding success. Ranked #5 worldwide for 2024 TV shows on Disney+. This chart is sorted by popularity:

In his last live the day before enlisting, Jimin told us he was sick with the flu for a week after returning from Sapporo and only had another week before their enlistment. Maybe he was starting to feel the symptoms on that last day in Sapporo and it contributed to feeling so down.

The behind footage for Sapporo shows at some point the cameras were turned off in the car when they were driving to the airport to return to Korea.

It would have been easy for the show's producers to just edit the footage and write captions that totally ignore the fact the cameras were ever turned off at all. We would have never known. Them including that information helps us put everything in context. Jungkook and Jimin purposely turned the cameras off and they purposely informed us of that so we could understand that there was a lot of time without any recording whatsoever. Maybe they talked about stuff they didn't want recorded. Maybe Jimin took a nap because he wasn't feeling good. No matter, most would call that PRIVATE TIME. They had an abundance of PRIVATE TIME during ALL of these trips.

I feel strongly they will do a few more trips. They loved this so much, and they have a foundation to build on, they will do more.

And now, its been a few weeks after the last episode and we've got the behind scenes. It still sort of feels like a dream that these two produced this project for us. Yet it only made sense didn't it? Who else out of the 7 would do something like this? It's genius level thinking to create this, doing something they both have said they love doing, doing it with each other, the people they connect with the best, and giving us something at the same time. Brilliant.

And I want to say thank you to Jimin and Jungkook. Personally, this was the best of the best.

It is truly the work of the Universe that they have each other, to support each other during this period of time. In recent pics I've seen, they look well. I miss them so much.

And now we're just over 8 months away from having them back. Eight months and 15 days before all 7 are discharged and we look forward to the first group live and an ocean of tears of relief pouring from all over the world for them. 10 days until our Hobi is back. I'm so excited!

My Are You Sure?! photobook arrived the other day, I wasn't expecting it so suddenly because Weverse Shop still had it marked as "shipping soon" and then all of a sudden it was here. YAY!

I am going to scan a lot of it but the big postcard sized photos that were part of the early pre-order gifts are on my refrigerator. I also ordered the Are You Sure?! magnets but those won't be here until December. As you can see, I'm a collector of fridge magnets when I travel so it was a no-brainer to get the Are You Sure magnets.

Also, shout out to anyone in North Carolina trying to recover from Hurricane Helene. The Nantahala area was one of my most favorite vacations. I hope to go back someday. I know it's hard to rebuild, I've experienced the aftermath of too many hurricanes. Take it one day at a time and never lose hope. Normal will come back again.

#are you sure?!#jimin #jungkook #jikook #love traveling #jungji #jimkook content creators #they need to do 12 seasons of are you sure #i vote for busan lets manifest #totally unscripted

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scarareg · 8 months ago

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From 0 to 10, which grades would you give to PJO ships?

Hi anon! This is such a fun question! Thanks for sending it! I tried to choose the most popular ships because there are so many variations of them, but if you are curious about a specific one that I didn't mention, feel free to ask!

Percabeth (Percy x Annabeth)

3/10 I give it a 3 only because in PJO they are cute but in HOO they are full of red flags and I hate what Rick did with them. I feel like their goals for the future do not align at all, and it is as if they together because that is what they are used to and not because they are in love. It seems like Percy is always trying to accommodate to what Annabeth wants and I think in the long run that would make him miserable, and those feeling will make worst a relationship that is already fragile.

In the future he is going to resent her so bad, because we already see that he doesn't feel comfortable joking/talking about some topics because Annabeth gets mad, now add him feeling like he has to follow everything she says or do just to be "the perfect boyfriend". It is a recipe for disaster

AnnieLuke (Annabeth x Luke)

1/10 this one is complicated. The thing is that I understand the appeal of a childhood besfrieds to lovers, I love those, BUT Luke never saw Annabeth as anything but a little sister. That + the fact that their relationship became toxic, it just make me uncomfortable. Sorry Annie, but this one is not the one, at least in my opinion (and in Luke's lmao)

Perluke (Percy x Luke)

4/10 I see you fans of friends to enemies to lovers or friends to lovers to enemies, I get it, but to me this one lacks that je ne sais quoi to make it appealing. But I can understand why some people like it. And I am part of the team "Percy had a crush on Luke yet he was the last to know"

Percico (Percy x Nico)

10/10 they are my OTP. I like how they complement each other. They have the history, the angst, the complexity. I like the dynamic of two characters who went through a lot, but deal with trauma in opposite ways.

They are ride or die for each other, but they keep that information a secret from each other, which makes their relationship really fun.

Most importantly Nico thinks Percy is cool AF and he adores him just the way he is. Percy is one of the few people who tried to get close to Nico and to understand him.

Their empathetic nature would make this relationship super sweet, tender and calm. For example, if one of them need to rest or are stressed out, they can go to the other and they will know if they need to talk or just want to nap.

Bonus points because their relationship with each other's parents would make their relationship even more interesting and fun!

Perachel (Percy x Rachel)

9/10 love this one! My second fave Percy ship! This is Percy's loss, to be honest. Their chemistry is super natural and they are always having fun! Rachel seems like a low-maintenance partner, so being with her must be pretty easy. She would not make drama if Percy can't be there with her for some time because he has to save the world or whatever. I think he can chill with her, and just like with Nico, Percy just being Percy is enough

Valgrace (Leo x Jason)

9/10 What I like about them is that both are insecure about themselves but always see the best in each other. Jason is Leo's hype man and Leo is always thinking about how impressive Jason is. Where Leo is chaotic, Jason is calm. Where Jason is anxious, Leo is chill. They just screams healthy couple

Jiper (Jason x Piper)

2/10 the problem here is how the relationship started. Both of them are really kind to each other, but their romance is based on a lie, which neither of them is to blame for, but it just feels wrong. To me, after knowing how their relationship started, Piper seems to like Jason enough to stay a couple, and Jason was too kind and just rolled with it, and that is not good reason to stay with someone in my opinion.

Liper (Leo x Piper)

9/10 shout out to @maygirlsposts to make me see the light with this one! Before, it never crossed my mind they could be a couple, but gosh! They are so cute together!

Piper and Leo genuinely have a connection, they share sense of humor, they have been through difficult stuff together and are empathetic towards the other's problems. They have a healthy balance between being chaotic when they are chilling, and having the ability to have honest conversations when necessary. They are overall wholesome AF!

Extra points for being the healthy version of Hephaestus x Aphrodite

Jasico (Jason x Nico)

10/10 this one is not my ship,only because I prefer them as besties, but I see the vision of their shippers; and I give them a 10 because they are probably the healthiest ship Nico has, to be honest.

Jason is always so patient with Nico, and sincere yet kind. Is great to see Nico feeling at ease with him. Jason has the stability Nico needs in a relationship.

Both bring the best of each other, and push the other to do and be the best they can be!

Jeyna (Jason x Reyna)

8/10 oh what could have been! The tragedy of the lost potential! They were too powerful together and Rick couldn't handle that.

They have history together and understand each other deeply. They are both strong mentally and physically, so they could be the standard of a demigod couple. They are both healthy people on their own, so their relationship would naturally be nice.

Their love story could have been so interesting, like: separated by war and the gods, reunited by fate!

To tell you a secret, I see them as Nico's unofficial parents/older siblings. Basically, they both adopted him separately, protect him, and genuinely care about him. They would have been one hell of parents lmao

Jercy (Jason x Percy)

6/10 this one is fun! Again it is not my ship, but I like their dynamic. They give "Two bros,chilling in the hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not gay" energy

Frazel (Frank x Hazel)

9/10 this is the only canon ship I like! Frank is super sweet and Hazel is always so kind, both are just wholesome AF! Like two teddy bears! I like that they started out as friends and both were seen as the "weird kids", that makes me think their bond is just genuine!

Lazel (Leo x Hazel)

5/10 they are cute, I just prefer them as friends. And not gonna lie, the fact that Hazel's ex is Leo's grandpa makes them kinda weird to me as a couple.

As friends will give them a 8/10, they need more time to get closer, but they already are super fun!

Fraleo (Frank x Leo)

6/10 They are funny! Like wholesome-awkward meets wholesome-chaotic. They just make me laugh because of how cute they would be, completely adorable! Too pure for this world!

I like this, but personally I like my ships with more angst, so I prefer them as friends. But you guys, their shippers, you must be the cutest, most wholesome people out there!

Leo x Frank x Hazel

7/10 I see the vision, but as you can see, I like Leo being their bestie instead of in a romance. But I understand! What's better than a love triangle? An OT3!

Pipabeth (Piper x Annabeth)

8/10 I like them a lot! This is the ship I like for Annabeth. In general I think Annabeth seems more comfortable with women. It feels like Rick wrote her as a lesbian-who-doesn't-know-she-is-one, but did so whithout realizing. Her chemistry with Piper (and with Reyna) just comes naturally and she looks like she is having fun!

Piper's fun personality complements Annabeth's logical one. Piper is all feelings, Annabeth is all brains, love that!

Also, just imagine their mothers' reactions when they find out they are dating!

Pipercy (Piper x Percy)

5/10 this is fun! But it needs that something else to make it super appealing to me, you know. Both are crack heads so they would be hilarious and a menace together! I can see the appeal! For me, I just prefer them as besties, like "Prepare for trouble! And make it double!"

Solangelo (Nico x Will)

3/10 in canon, 10/10 in fanon

First of all, can we talk about how fucking ethereal their ship name is? The ship name gets an ∞/10!

Now, the ship. I will start saying that I LOVE ships that are opposites attracts, but sadly this ship is a bit like Percabeth, but better. Let me explain. The concept is there, but at the moment of writing their romance, Rick kinda sucks. Genuinely think fic writers do a better job writing them.

For starters I have a problem with Nico being outed by Cupid. And I do not like at all that he doesn't have time to process that trauma, neither his crush on Percy and the heartbreak that comes after his rejection. Will is shoehorned into the narrative because "Nico needs a boyfriend" and Will is the only character available. He was a glorified extra.

This takes me to that I feel Rick thinks a relationship will solve all of your problems. I firmly believe that Nico needed time alone to recover from all of his trauma, which is a lot. But Rick's solution for this kind of stuff is "get a partner!". (Leo and Piper also suffered of this)

Is like: "Did you live through World War II? Your mom died and you were immediately stuck in an hotel for maybe one or two months? When you finally got out, were you in another century? Your sister died one week later? Years passed and you lived on your own for a while and felt scared and isolated from everyone you knew? Did you fight another war? Went to Tartarus and came back and then get kidnapped? You almost died, again? Had to fight again? Don't worry, having a boyfriend will solve all your problems!"

And I HATE IT! This is not Will's fault, it's Rick's. So I feel bad for not loving Solangelo in canon, but I really think Nico needs time for himself, he will have time for boyfriends in the future after he gets in a better head space.

Conclusion Will and Nico deserve better writers.

Once again thanks Anon! Would love to know what you think about this!

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