#maybe he was chilling before all the shows

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

When Cale was Kim Rok Soo, back at the company, he never scared anyone. Sure, they worried for him, they feared his Records or they felt a subconscious chill when making eye contact but-

Rarely has he ever scared them.

Except the week he disappeared.

He got trapped underneath rubble, like his first meeting with Lee Soo Hyuk, but no one was there to save him this time. Three days, he was trapped; an uncanny parallel, maybe even more than a coincidence. But on the third day… something changed. He gained a new ability, something that snapped inside of him like a key that forgoes unlocking the mechanism entirely and breaks the lock itself.

He lifted a building off of its foundations.

The metal holding together the crevice he was huddled in snapped and groaned, while the rocks and concrete scratched and shattered like glass. He forced his way out and walked.

He walked away from the company.

If he had been within his mind, he would’ve gotten help, accepted food and water and healed his injuries.

He wasn’t. Within his mind, that is. He was strong, his senses had heightened to find food and all of his necessaries, but he couldn’t remember anything from his life as Kim Rok Soo.

Kim Rok Soo at this moment had fallen asleep, and Survival woke up. For 4 days, Survival walked, ate, drank, and breathed the life of Kim Rok Soo.

If you could call it living.

Eventually he was found, wandering and dirty, and seeing his team members let Rok Soo wake up, and Survival fell asleep.

Cale Henituse hasn’t had to do that. No, not yet, but time catches up eventually and Cale found himself in a perilous situation again.

Trapped inside of a collapsing building with no way to contact his friends who are expecting him to be back in 6 days. They were in a different world, so Cale only had a portion of his abilities, but it should've been enough. It hadn't.

4 days inside of the building, which shuddered and broke multiple times around him, finally, Survival opened its eyes.

It had taken longer because of Vitality of the Heart, but with all of his abilities weakened extensively, he had no options for escape.

Survival looks around dumbly. Within its own consciousness, it’s doing calculations. The structural integrity. The state of his body. The nearest food source.

Lifting the building off of its body is easy, but it takes several hours to progress its way out of the collapsing caverns. Survival breathes heavily, but doesn’t hesitate as it finally breaks through the side. The building tips over and crashes on the opposite side of where it is. Survival blinks from the impact, but only because of the dust.

It wanders for 3 days.

Finally, it gets found. By bandits.

It massacres them and steals their resources.

Soon after that, news breaks out about the supposed single-handed wipe out, and Raon finds him. Raon tries to speak to it, but after it deduced that Raon wasn’t a threat nor food, it walked away.

As a smart and clever dragon, Raon observed Cale before being so abruptly insulted. Multiple attempts to bring Cale back into those eyes, all failed attempts, Raon teleports the unwilling stranger back to the empire.

It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t respond to touch beyond a stern glance, and it only does the bare minimum to survive. It tried to store food under its bed after eating “enough”, and no amount of begging convinced it to not store the rations. It hasn’t bothered to use its powers either- like it doesn’t know it has them.

All attempts to speak are futile.

Choi Han even tried Korean, but it didn’t show any sign of understanding.

Rosalyn does research with Raon and Choi Han on what could have caused it.

Then they hear about the collapsed building. They hear about the bandits who had supposedly died a few days afterwards. Raon figures out that- yes- the stuff Cale had with him at the time used to belong to bandits.

A week after becoming Survival, days after being found, Cale opens his eyes on a bed.

“… They found me?” He muttered it so quietly, whisper soft, but Raon- apparently sleeping by his legs, jumps up with wide eyes.

“Human!”

Cale wants to sigh. How long was he asleep this time? By Raon’s expression, it must have beaten his previous records.

“Is it you? Is it really you? Say something! Say my name!”

Cale blinks in confusion. Two minutes ago he was dozing off inside of a dark hole that was close to collapsing, now— Raon wants to hear his name?

“… Raon Miru? Are you okay?” Cale sat up, ignoring his stiff body and pulling Raon into his lap. He seems to have lost a little weight?

“Human you must absolutely tell me everything you remember!”

While saying this, Raon was ordering everyone to stay out of Cale’s room with the exception of Choi Han and Rosalyn, as well as informing Beacrox to bring up food and to prepare tea.

Cale observes Raon, who is earnestly distressed for some reason, and concedes.

“The last thing I remember was falling asleep in a collapsing building.” Rosalyn gasps. She just entered the room with Choi Han, who is staring at Cale with a cold gaze.

“Why were you in there?” A chill runs down Cales spine at Choi Han’s voice.

“The conmen didn’t expect the building to collapse, they had likely planned something else. It just happened out of nowhere.” He doesn't say that he got lucky. He was next to one of the buildings main supports at the time, and the crumbling structure formed a bubble around him by chance.

Rosalyn goes pale.

Raon shouts, “I will destroy those bastards that made you go in there!”

“They’re already dead.” Cale shakes his head. Rosalyn covers her mouth. He hadn't said he got lucky, but it's obvious that he did. Did they almost lose Cale, and hadn't even known?

‘Three times…’ He’s been lucky with collapsing buildings three times now.

“Cale-nim…” Choi Han places a hand on his shoulder and Cale freezes in fear. “After the building collapsed, a bandit camp was destroyed, single handedly, a few days after. Raon found you wandering- with their stuff on you.”

Immediately, Cale figured it out. It must be an ability. He recalls the similar event that happened in the past and the dots are easy to connect.

But- he can’t say anything about that with Rosalyn in the room.

So all he says, is…

“I guess some part of me really wanted to live.”

[sweetfcwn]

request: Reader feeling sick/unwell and doesn’t wanna burden George cause he’s overwhelm with work and she’s too stubborn to admit.

rest easy - george clarke.

perfect time for me to get this request because i think i'm getting sick. need george to come take care of me 😖

you’ve been trying to hide it all evening—how your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and your throat is raw from swallowing every few seconds. you’ve got the chills, but you tell yourself it’s nothing. you don’t want to worry george. he’s been so overwhelmed with work lately, and you know how important it is for him to get everything done. you don’t want to add to his plate.

so, you sit there, quietly, on the couch, watching him from across the room as he furiously works on his laptop. you can tell he’s tired, his eyes looking a little more strained than usual, but he doesn’t show it. he’s always so focused, so determined. you admire it, but sometimes, you wish he would let himself rest.

you shift uncomfortably, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to warm yourself from the inside out. you tell yourself you’ll be fine, that this will pass, but the ache in your body only seems to grow with each passing minute.

george finally notices, his gaze flicking over to you. you try to smile, but it feels forced. “you okay?” he asks, concern slipping into his voice.

“yeah,” you lie, your voice coming out a little raspier than you intended. “just a little tired, that’s all.”

george doesn’t seem convinced. he pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read you. the silence between you stretches, and you can feel the weight of it.

“you sure?” he presses, setting his laptop aside and standing up. “because you look like you’re about to pass out.”

you can feel the heat rush to your face, and you shake your head quickly, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it. “honestly, george, it’s nothing. just… a headache. nothing I can’t handle.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he crosses the room, sitting beside you on the couch. his fingers gently brush your cheek, and the warmth of his touch makes you want to give in, to tell him everything that’s been weighing on you. but you can’t bring yourself to do it. you don’t want to be a burden.

george sighs, his voice soft but firm. “you’re not a burden. don’t ever think that.”

your heart stutters, and for a moment, you let yourself feel the truth in his words. you meet his gaze, and the tenderness in his eyes makes something in your chest loosen.

“george…” you begin, but your voice cracks before you can finish.

he’s already pulling you toward him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you lean into him, finally allowing yourself to relax just a little. “you don’t have to keep pretending. let me take care of you for once, alright?”

you nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you let the comfort of his presence wash over you. maybe you didn’t want to admit you were struggling, but with george beside you, it’s easier to let go. to be vulnerable. to let him help.

you sink into his embrace, the tension in your body slowly melting away as george pulls the blanket around the two of you. his warmth is like a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to stop being so strong all the time. it’s okay to let someone else take care of you for a change.

“just rest,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he adjusts the blanket around you. you hear the subtle concern in his tone, but there’s something else too—an underlying sense of calm, like he’s relieved you’ve finally let go of that stubborn pride. "i'm not going anywhere."

you close your eyes, the world feeling softer in his arms. you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his presence grounds you, and for the first time all evening, you allow yourself to just breathe. you can’t remember the last time you let yourself be this vulnerable, this open, but with george, it doesn’t feel like weakness. it feels safe.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper after a long pause, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t want to bother you.”

george shakes his head, pulling you in a little tighter. “you’re not bothering me. i care about you, you know? you don’t have to hide it from me.”

there’s something in his words that makes your heart ache, a quiet promise in his voice that makes you feel less alone in this moment. you nod slightly, snuggling further into his side as your eyelids grow heavy.

“thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a murmur.

he hums in response, his hand stroking your hair slowly. “anything for you.”

the world outside feels distant now, the overwhelming rush of the day fading as you focus on the rhythmic comfort of george’s touch. the headache still lingers, but with him holding you, it’s easier to push it aside. you let yourself relax into the moment, knowing that for now, you’re exactly where you need to be.

[victorrv]

THERE IS A MAN AT YOUR DOOR. 

He is neither tall nor imposing, but the large, feathery hat sitting atop of his head casts a grim shadow over his face. His expression is pleasant otherwise, a serene smile among his features. You know exactly who he is.

The hunter.

You open the door, half-expecting him to say something out of pocket again, or perhaps for him to just stare at you for a moment before giving you what he intended. Knowing him, though, he probably won’t do either. Instead, he smiles wider, and you can’t determine whether he’s smiling at you or at something else. You never could exactly tell what was going on inside that head of his. You doubted anyone could.

“My, my, you look as beautiful as ever, mon ami!” He exclaims, the compliment rolling off of his tongue so smoothly that you could easily accuse him of being fake. But you’ve known him long enough to know that it is the complete opposite. 

“Hunter.” You greet shortly. “How was your last catch?” 

You can swear that his green eyes shine with something you can’t quite place. 

“Absolutely thrilling!” He starts, and you brace yourself for another one of his lengthy tangents. “Why, the chase was positively exhilarating! Le cerf was merveilleux—”

“You can tell me about it inside.” You cut him off, opening the door a margin wider, putting him at a full stop in his tracks. You can’t recall if you’ve ever seen him so surprised before, but you’re too occupied to do so either way.

The hunter’s lips pull upwards in another smile, but you don’t know why it sends a chill up your spine. 

                                    ***

“It’s always a pleasure to visit your fine shop, mon cher boucher.” The blonde hums, looking around the interior of your makeshift store like it was eye candy. It was no luxury retreat; just a simple butchery a little ways into the woods. But the hunter was really keen on making it seem like one. 

It’s only the two of you inside. You don’t get too many customers, but that’s what you like about this place. It’s quiet, homey, even. It doesn’t leave you with a burning headache after clocking out, nor does it make you dread waking up every day. It was the perfect place for you to do your own thing. 

You lead him into the back of the shop, winding through the familiar path with a practiced pace. You’ve done this enough to start forming a habit or two. Taking the hunter to the back of your butchery as he discussed his latest game, then exchanging his catch for your money, before finally watching him walk back into the woods. Disappearing for the next period of time — be it days or even weeks — before showing up and starting the whole process all over again. 

You can clearly remember the first time, though. The first time he’d popped up in your bushes, an encounter of which only lead you to strike up a deal with the eccentric hunter. The rare game he hunted in exchange for a quick buck, and maybe a conversation too, if he was careful with his words. That was the only reason your relationship existed in the first place. Because of a deal.

But with how he’d been looking at you, you were starting to question that.

[goldfades]

crash out couple thought…reader is def loved by a lot of people, so what if at a game maybe its a very bold fan or another player playing against luka trying to flirt with her? how do u think luka would react?

ohhh this is such a delicious scenario because luka? oh, luka does not play when it comes to his girl. like, he’s chaotic and goofy until it comes to you, and then? suddenly it’s giving possessive, petty, and lowkey unhinged energy

picture this:

it’s a big game. high stakes. the arena’s packed, lights are bright, and you’re sitting courtside—of course. you’re in one of luka’s oversized jerseys, legs crossed, looking effortlessly good like you didn’t just steal the entire spotlight by simply existing.

every camera in the building cuts to you at some point. you’re that girl. the wnba star with the attitude, the reputation, the “crash out queen.” and you? you’re chilling, locked in on luka, maybe tossing a few playful chirps his way when he misses a shot.

but then—

oh and, here comes the problem.

it starts with a look.

maybe it’s a player luka’s had beef with before. one of those guys who likes to push buttons, always jawing at luka during games, always trying to throw him off his rhythm.

but today? he takes it too far.

because instead of running his mouth at luka, he glances at you. gives you that slow once-over, paired with some smirk like he’s got a shot.

you? you roll your eyes. because please. be serious.

but luka? luka sees it.

and ohhh, the whole vibe shifts.

luka, who was previously all smiles and shoulder shrugs, suddenly looks dead serious. he squints, head tilts a little like, nah, did this dude really just try that?

you can see the exact moment his whole demeanor changes. he stops joking with his teammates. next possession down the court? luka’s got the ball, and he’s locked in—but not just on the basket. on him.

the trash talk starts immediately.

luka hits a three in the guy’s face and doesn’t even look at the basket. nah, he’s staring dead at him, jogging backward like:

“what was that? you were saying something? look at the scoreboard.”

petty. disrespectful. peak luka.

but the dude won’t let it go.

next dead ball, he saunters by the sideline, glancing your way again. throws a wink.

“yo, you sure you don’t wanna sit somewhere else? i could get you a better view.”

oh. he’s dead.

luka hears every word.

and you? you’re ready to pop off—because you don’t need luka to defend you, you’re more than capable of checking someone yourself. but before you can even uncross your legs, luka’s already there.

he steps right up to him, smirking but with that dangerous edge in his eyes.

“nah, she’s good where she’s at. you should worry about staying on the court. you’re lucky she doesn’t lace up right now—she’d drop 30 on your head easy.”

the ref steps in before it gets too heated, but the tension? palpable.

and it doesn’t stop there.

luka cooks him the entire game. stepbacks. no-look assists. and every time luka scores, he looks straight at you.

blows a kiss. taps his ring finger. mouths, “mine.”

the fans are eating it up. twitter’s in shambles. the broadcast camera cannot stop cutting between luka’s smirking face and you, sitting courtside, absolutely thriving in the chaos.

postgame?

luka barely lets the clock run out before he’s jogging over to you. he pulls you in by the waist like there aren’t thousands of eyes watching, resting his forehead against yours with that cocky grin.

“he really thought he had a chance? that’s crazy.”

“you’re petty as hell.”

“and you love it.”

and okay, maybe you do. because luka getting fired up over you? putting on a show just to remind everyone exactly who you belong to?

yeah. that’s the crash out couple energy.

the press conference after? iconic.

a reporter tries to sneak in a question:

“luka, there seemed to be some extra back-and-forth with [player] tonight. any comment?”

luka shrugs, grinning that infuriating grin.

“nah. just making sure people know to stay in their lane.”

and you? you’re sitting in the back of the room, smirking right back at him.

the internet the next day is on fire:

“luka doncic going full ‘don’t talk to my girl’ mode is peak crash out couple behavior.” “he really dropped a 40-piece out of pure jealousy 😭😭.” “she’s the wnba’s problem and his problem only.”

because that’s the thing about luka and his queen:

they’re chaotic. they’re fiery.

but above all else?

they don’t play about each other.

[darkita11]

Carol crumbs cause it's been a busy week 💦

Slightly deeper analysis below ↴

LM: This little kid won't stop getting in the way since the 80's! He's getting tired of seeing him but he can't help but feel intrigued by his strength

GJ: They've shared a couple words on the waiting room at the neurologist, though Carol only goes bc he goes to moshpits and shows up lightheaded on training the next day

VK: Carol thinks that the retired military to boxer thing is pretty metal, VK is happy to tell him his stories (also slight crush on VK bc he's still a self insert of mine 😼)

DK: Disco is better at the dancefloor than the ring, Carol is the opposite. Carol has gone to a few kickboxing classes with Disco for fun (they were a mesa) and they enjoy learning each other's dance styles

KH: Carol has asked him to teach him how to growl like him, "your voice is so metal" King Hippo doesn't really understand what he means tho

PH: Piston often helps Carol cool down if he gets too intense. Have gone to a Babymetal concert together. Btw Carol is friends with everyone in the Mayor circuit :D

BH: Friends. Kinda like a cool uncle to Carol, "you can't not get along with this guy!". They have fun at the grill

GT: Friends, though Tiger seems to get along better with his clones so they're not very close

DF: As fellow Spanish speakers early on the WVBA friendship was quick to spark. However their rankings on the latest instalment made Carol jealous, and rivalry was a lot more evident. Don would shove on his face how popular he was amongst women and how cool his Mayor circuit belt looks on him too. Outside the ring they're still good friends tho! The chase of the champion title is the one thing turning their friendship a bit rocky

AR: Two crazy freaks bonding over national dances and aggressive fighting style? Yeah

BB: He's aware that his whole character is about being intimidating and strong like a wild animal but thinks he takes it a bit too far. Carol's character also plays that role but messing with the ref and throwing dumbbells to the public is just disrespectful. He's thought that maybe there's something underneath that facade but it's just hard to see through him.

SP: They've shared one too many drinks before but they end up too hungover to remember they're friends or had a great time last night

SMM: They have clashing personalities. However one day they're calling each other names and the next one they're doing silly stuff like dancing or putting makeup on together. They both seem to have a single braincell that pair up in random moments.

MS: Carol grew up admiring Mr Sandman's intimidating personality and incredible strength. He was scared af to actually meet him in the WVBA but after his crushing defeat (Expected) he turned out to be a chill guy! They listen to heavy metal and go to concerts together, Carol helped him pick his theme for the Wii instalment too. They like to blast metal at the gym to have it all for themselves

DL: Carol rarely talks to Mac soo how's he supposed to know anything beyond that?

R: He kinda misses Mario cause he wouldn't let any of the boxers shove him or throw him off the ring. Doesn't like his lack of authority pretty much

C: I mean he's already friends with Don so how wouldn't he know his gf

[jazzy96scorpio]

Daddy's Girl

Chapter 2 Love and Redemption

Description: Whoops! Looks like one night wasn't enough. 😉 You two are back at it, but things are way more complicated now. Your chemistry is undeniable, but your past is catching up to you. Prepare for some steamy moments, some tough choices, and a love story that's anything but predictable.

Pairing: You / Clint Age gap (early 20's/late 40's)

Word count: 4,400

Warnings ⚠️: Explicit adult content, strong language and sexual content, sex, some daddy/age-gap kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, SMUT, angst and fluff

The memory of Clint's touch, the raw intensity of the night before, lingered like a phantom limb. You replayed every moment in your head, the way his hands had moved on your body, the things he'd whispered in your ear, the sheer animalistic pleasure of it all. You'd never felt so… alive. So desired. You genuinely liked him, more than you probably should have, considering.

The next morning, you arrived at the video shop, a small smile playing on your lips. As you tidied up the back room, a glint of leather caught your eye. Clint's wallet. He'd left it behind. A small, practical part of you knew you should just leave it for him to collect, but a larger, more mischievous part of you saw an opportunity.

You decided to take it to the restaurant. It was a long shot, but you had a feeling he might be there. As you walked across the parking lot, your eyes scanned the rows of cars, searching for his familiar vehicle. And then you saw him.

He was sitting in his car, the engine running, but he wasn't going anywhere. And he wasn't alone. Another woman was with him, leaning in close. Too close. They were kissing.

A hot, possessive kiss that made your stomach clench. Jealousy, sharp and unexpected, pierced through you. You knew it was just one night. You knew it probably didn't mean anything. But still… it stung.

You forced yourself to walk closer, trying to appear nonchalant. As you got closer, you noticed something that made your anger falter. The woman was pregnant.

Suddenly, making a scene seemed… wrong. Not for your sake, but for hers.

You approached the car, your face carefully neutral. "Clint," you said, your voice even. "You left your wallet at the shop."

He startled, pulling away from the woman. His eyes widened in surprise, then quickly shifted to something unreadable. He took the wallet from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "Thanks," he mumbled, his gaze darting between you and the woman.

"No problem," you replied, giving them both a polite nod. "Have a good day."

💔

You turned and walked away, your back to them, your heart a heavy weight in your chest. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn't look back. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You didn't want to know what he was thinking. You just wanted to get away, to escape the sting of rejection and the realization that maybe, just maybe, you'd been a fool to think it could be anything more than just one night.

Later that afternoon, the bell above the video shop door jingled, and you saw him. Clint.

He walked in, looking a little sheepish, a little… desperate. "Hey," he said, his voice tentative.

"Hi," you replied, your voice clipped, cold. You couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up after what you saw.

He could feel the chill radiating off you. He walked behind the counter, closing the small distance between you.

"I… I wanted to apologize," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"Apologize?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. "For what, exactly? Leaving your wallet? Or kissing another woman in broad daylight?"

"Both," he said quietly. "I messed up."

"Messed up?" you repeated, your voice rising. "That's putting it mildly, isn't it? You spent the night with me, you… you…" You couldn't even bring yourself to say it. "And then, the very next day, I see you kissing someone else. Someone pregnant, no less!"

"I know, I know," he said, his voice laced with regret. "It wasn't right. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Clint," you snapped. "What did you think? That I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't care?"

"I… I wasn't thinking," he admitted. "I was an idiot. I really wanted you. That night… it was… something special."

"Special?" you scoffed. "Special enough to forget you have another girlfriend? Special enough to forget she is pregnant?"

His face fell. "I… I should have told you," he said. "I'm married. My wife… she's due in a few weeks."

The anger inside you flared. "You're married?" you hissed. "And you have the audacity to come here, after everything, and tell me that now?"

You slapped him, hard, your hand stinging. "Get out, Clint. Get out of my shop. Get out of my life."

He flinched at the slap, his eyes filled with pain. "Please," he said. "Just let me explain—"

"Explain what?" you interrupted, your voice trembling with rage. "Explain how you lied to me? Explain how you used me? There's nothing to explain. Just go."

"I really… I care about you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Care about me?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Don't lie to me again, Clint. Just go."

He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. Then, with a sigh, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, shaking with anger and hurt.

Later that night, the walk home felt miles long. You were so tired, so messed up. All you wanted was sleep, oblivion. Just to shut everything off for a while.

Then, headlights. A car pulls up beside you. Guess who? Clint. He rolls down the window, calling your name.

You flip him off without a second thought. "Fuck off," you mutter.

He gets out of the car, looking… what? Guilty? Desperate? Hard to tell in the dark.

He grabs your arms, pulling you close. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low. "I really do care about you. I can't stop thinking about you… about that night…"

You slap him again, a sharp, stinging slap. "Just… stop," you say, your voice shaky.

He doesn't even react to the slap. He just kisses you, hard and fast, like he can't get enough.

"I want you," he whispers against your lips. "I can't get enough of you, babygirl."

He pulls back a little. "Come on, baby… let's go for a ride."

You hesitate. He whispers, "You're mine, babygirl…"

He opens the car door. "Please," he says, his voice softer now. "Just…let me talk to you.."

And even though you know it's a terrible idea, even though you're still furious with him, you get in.

"What do you want, Clint? Tell me and make it quick," you say, your voice tight. "Before someone sees us."

He's silent for a moment, then starts the car, pulling away from the curb. He finds a secluded spot down a dirt road, deep in the woods. He shuts off the engine, the silence broken only by the chirping of crickets.

He turns to you, his face in shadow.

He takes your chin, gently tilting your face up to his. He notices the tears you’d been trying to hide. He wipes them away with his thumb.

"Why, Clint?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. "Why did you do this to me?"

He kisses you, a soft, apologetic kiss at first, then deepening, his hands cupping your face. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"From the moment I saw you… I wanted you, babygirl. I wasn't thinking about anything else." He starts to make excuses.

"I just… I want you," he says, his voice laced with desperation.

"What about your wife, Clint?" you ask, cutting him off.

He hesitates. "Please understand I want you..I want to do this…I wanna be with you …Please...I really do. But… I can't leave her now." He promises he’ll be with you, eventually. He whispers that he loves you.

"This isn't love, Clint," you say, your voice hard. "You just like to fuck young girls, old man."

His face hardens, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "You're right," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "And you're mine, babygirl. Mine to use."

He grabs you, lifting you onto his lap, his grip tight. He kisses you roughly, possessively. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens, his kisses becoming more insistent, more demanding. You give in, finally, succumbing to the heat between you.

He pulls up your dress, ripping your panties in the process.

"Goddamn, babygirl," he breathes, his voice thick with lust. "You're perfect. Absolutely perfect."

He quickly unbuckles his belt, his cock springing free, huge and throbbing, glistening with pre-cum. He kisses your breasts, licking your nipples, teasing you until you moan, your hands tangling in his hair.

He pulls the seat back, reclining it almost flat. You straddle him, facing him, your hips resting against his.

Then, in one swift movement, he guides his cock inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. "Fuck," you breathe, arching your back. "Yes… Daddy…"

You start to ride him, bouncing hard on his cock, your movements fueled by a mixture of anger and desire. He holds you tight, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your rhythm. He kisses your neck, biting gently, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

You grip his hair, kissing him back just as roughly. "I fucking hate you, Daddy," you whisper, the words laced with both anger and desire.

"And I love you, babygirl," he replies, his voice thick with lust.

He kisses you, cupping your face in his hands. "Come on, sweetie," he murmurs, his eyes burning into yours. "Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you want it."

He starts to thrust harder, faster, his cock pounding against your G-spot. "Yeah, that's it," he groans. "Scream for me, babygirl. Tell me how much you need me."

He whispers filthy things in your ear, things that make you blush and tremble.

"You're so fucking wet for your Daddy" he pants. "I can't get enough of you. I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, make you drip with me."

He reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, teasing it, driving you closer to the edge. "Come on, baby," he whispers. "Let it go. Show Daddy how much you love it."

"Oh, fuck, yes," you moan, arching your back. "Harder, Daddy, harder. I'm gonna cum."

He speeds up, his thrusts becoming relentless, each one pushing him deeper inside you.

"That's it, babygirl," he grunts. "So fucking good. You're going to be a mess for your Daddy."

He reaches down and grips your ass cheeks, pulling you closer, grinding his cock against your clit. "Tell me you love it, baby," he demands. "Tell me you're mine. Tell me you belong to Daddy. Say it."

"I love it, Daddy," you gasp, your body trembling, on the verge of climax. "I'm yours. Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me harder. I'm so close…"

He groans, his own release close behind. "Fuck, babygirl," he pants. "I'm gonna cum." He thrusts one last time, deep and hard, and then he explodes inside you, his hot seed gushing into your womb.

You cry out, your body convulsing as you come again, a loud, shuddering orgasm that echoes through the car. His cock pulses inside you, hot and thick, spilling his cum deep within you. You feel it surge through you, a warm, overwhelming sensation. He collapses against you, his breath ragged. "Fuck," he whispers. "You're so fucking good. Mine. So full of me."

"You'll miss this pussy when I'm gone Daddy." you murmured to him.

You pull back, the shared intimacy shattered. You slide over to the passenger seat, the leather cool against your heated skin. He stuffs his cock back into his pants, the silence in the car thick with unspoken words. You dress quickly, the lingering scent of him a phantom presence on your skin.

He lights a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face. He offers it to you, and you take a drag, the smoke a harsh comfort in your throat.

He leans over, kissing you one last time, a lingering, almost desperate kiss. "Don't hate me, babygirl," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you. I'll always come back to you."

"No," you say, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside. "This is the last time, Clint. Take me home."

He nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He starts the car, and the drive back is fraught with tension, the silence heavy with the weight of what just transpired. As he pulls up a block from your house, he reaches for you, a silent plea for one final touch.

"No," you say, pulling away from his grasp. "Clint, please. Don't. Don't come around again. I'm weak for you..I know I'll give up every time you kiss me... Don't do this to me."

You get out of the car, resisting the urge to look back. You can feel his gaze on your retreating figure, a mixture of sadness and something else, something darker, lingering in the air.

You don't turn around. You know if you do, you'll succumb to his pull once more, and that is a dangerous game you can no longer afford to play.

💔

Weeks passed, each one a slow ache. You'd see Clint around town, he'd try to catch your eye, to speak to you, but you always looked away, a wall of hurt and confusion between you.

Then, one night, walking home, you saw him. He was on a deserted street near the old hotel, his face a mess of blood and bruises.

And he was holding a baby. A tiny, bundled-up baby. In his other hand, he clutched a small saw. Fear and adrenaline surged through you. You ran towards him.

"Clint! What happened?" you asked, your voice trembling. You looked at the baby. A boy. His son. Then you looked back at Clint, your heart pounding in your chest.

"They… some bastards," he stammered, his voice hoarse. "They wanted me to do something for them. A job. I didn't want to. They… they took my son from the hospital."

"His… his mother?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

"She… she died during labor," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'm so sorry, Clint," you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I have to get out of here," he said, his eyes wild. "I have to get him safe. Just until morning, then I'll figure things out."

"Come to my house," you said, surprising yourself. "You can clean up there."

"Your dad…" he hesitated.

"He's on night shift," you said quickly.

You took the baby from his arms, cradling him close. He was so small, so fragile. You led Clint to your car, and drove to your house in silence.

He showered, and you gave him some of your dad's old clothes. He looked exhausted, but relieved. You fed his son, who was ravenous.

"Thank you," Clint said, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for everything." He paused, then moved closer to you, his eyes searching yours.

He kissed you softly, tentatively. "I… I still love you, babygirl," he whispered. "I need you to come with me...I can't live without you.."

You looked at him, then at his son, sleeping peacefully in his arms. You knew he couldn't do this alone. And despite everything, a part of you still cared for him.

"Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go with you." "I'll pack my things."

He nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. He held his son close as you went to gather your belongings.

As you were trying to leave the house, the front door opened. Your dad, Robert, stood there, his face a mask of fury.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on Clint.

"What are you doing in my house with my daughter? And… whose baby is that?"

"That's my son," Clint answered, his voice steady despite the tension.

"Dad, I love Clint," you said, the words tumbling out. "I'm going with him."

"You're leaving with him?" Robert roared, his voice shaking with anger.

Clint stepped forward, his expression surprisingly calm. "Robert, I'm sorry but I need your daughter," he said, his voice steady. "I love her. I promise I'll protect her. I won't let anything happen to her."

Robert was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, then Clint's. Finally, he looked at Clint, his voice low and dangerous. "She's my everything," he said, his gaze unwavering. "Hurt her, and I will find you. And I will kill you."

You took Clint's hand, and together, you walked out the door, leaving your father standing there, his face a mask of pain and anger.

❣️

Hours later, you found yourselves in a small hotel room in a neighboring country. The baby, exhausted from the journey, was finally asleep. You looked at him, his tiny features so like Clint’s. "He's beautiful," you whispered. "He looks just like you."

Clint pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He kissed you, a deep, hungry kiss that spoke of longing and desperation, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before plunging inside.

"God, I've been craving you," he whispered against your mouth. "I haven't been able to think about anything else. You're like a drug to me, babygirl. A sweet, delicious poison."

His hands moved quickly, deftly, removing your clothes, his eyes never leaving yours, burning with lust. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, his gaze raking over your naked body. "Every curve, every inch of you… it drives me wild."

He kissed you all over your body, lingering on your breasts, his tongue teasing their sensitive tips, making them hard and aching. "Mmm, you taste so good," he groaned. "Like honey and sin." He gently laid you on the bed, his gaze burning into you.

He knelt between your legs, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. He kissed your clit, slowly, teasingly, licking it until you moaned, your hips lifting off the mattress, begging for more. "Oh, Daddy," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "Fuck me, Daddy. Make me scream."

He then stripped off his own clothes, his body lean and hard, a roadmap of muscle and sinew. He knelt above you, his cock throbbing, glistening with anticipation, pulsing with need.

He teased you with the tip, brushing it against your swollen pussy, making you gasp with need, a wet heat blossoming between your legs.

"Ready for me, babygirl?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Ready for Daddy's cock?

You were so wet, dripping with desire. He slid in with a hard, deep thrust, filling you completely. "Fuck," you breathed, arching your back. "Yes… Daddy… Fill me up."

He moved slowly at first, his full weight pressing you into the mattress, making you feel small and vulnerable, yet utterly consumed by him.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "So fucking good. You're going to beg me to stop, but I won't."

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more insistent, more demanding. You clung to his back, your nails digging into his skin as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every push. "Fuck, yes," you moaned, your hips rising to meet his. "Harder, Daddy, harder. I need you. I need your cum."

He came inside you with a guttural cry, his cock pulsing deep within you, his hot seed flooding your womb. "Fuck, babygirl," he gasped, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're mine. All mine. You belong to me. You're my little slut."

He stayed like that for a while, his body still trembling, kissing you deeply, savoring the moment, his lips lingering on yours. "You're so fucking good," he whispered against your lips. "The best pussy I've ever had."

He pulled out slowly, his eyes watching as your juices, mixed with his cum, dripped from your pussy, staining the sheets. "Damn, baby," he whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You're a beautiful, dripping mess. Just how Daddy likes it. Gonna mark you, babygirl. Gonna leave my mark all over you."

He leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness you hadn't seen before, a promise of something more, something darker. "You're mine now, babygirl. And I'm never letting you go."

You whispered "I love you too Daddy."

That night, for the first time, you fell asleep in the same bed, wrapped in each other's arms. He was gentle, so different from the rough, demanding lover he could be. He was caring, tender. He whispered that he loved you, he thanked you for understanding, for staying with him, for not leaving him when he needed you most.

"I hope so," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "I hope you never leave me, Clint. Or… or cheat on me. Because if you do, I'm gonna call my dad, and he's gonna kill you. I mean it."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "I promise, babygirl," he said, pulling you closer. "I'd never do that to you. From now on, I only have eyes for you. And my heart… it's all yours.

💓

Two years have passed, and life settled into a new rhythm. The fear and uncertainty gradually faded, replaced by a fragile sense of normalcy. Then, one morning, you woke up feeling… different. Nauseous. Tired. And then, the test confirmed it. You were pregnant. You went to doctor, it was a boy. Clint was so happy when he find out.

The sun streamed through the window, painting the small house in a warm, golden light. It was a picture of domestic bliss. Jason, your older son, was sprawled on the floor, engrossed in building a magnificent tower of colorful blocks. In your arms, Mateo, your newborn, nursed contentedly, his tiny hand clutching your finger. He was fast asleep, his little chest rising and falling gently.

The front door opened, and Clint walked in, a broad smile lighting up his face. He’d found a steady job as a contractor, and the stability had done wonders for him.

He was different now – calmer, more focused, a real partner. He’d been so incredibly supportive during the pregnancy, taking care of you and Jason, making sure you had everything you needed.

"I'm home!" he called out, his voice filled with warmth. He came over to you, bending down to kiss you softly. "Hey, beautiful," he murmured, his eyes full of love. He then kissed Mateo on the forehead, his touch feather-light. "Missed you guys so much."

He ruffled Jason’s hair playfully. "What are you building there, buddy? A castle?"

Jason grinned, showing off a missing tooth. "Yeah! It's gonna be the biggest castle ever!"

Clint spent a few minutes playing with Jason, laughing as the tower of blocks inevitably tumbled down. He then came back to you, sitting beside you on the sofa.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "How are my boys doing?" he asked, his gaze tender as he looked at Mateo, still sleeping peacefully in your arms.

"They're good," you said, leaning into his embrace. "Mateo's been a little fussy today, but he's finally settled down."

"He's growing so fast," Clint said, his voice filled with awe.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. It was your dad, Robert. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with Clint, but he’d come around, especially since Mateo was born. He wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy with Clint, but he was undeniably happy to have two grandsons.

Robert spent the afternoon playing with Jason, showering him with attention. He even managed a small, almost grudging, smile in Clint's direction.

As the sun began to set, and the boys were both playing quietly in their room, Clint came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He kissed you softly on the neck. "I'm so happy, darling," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "I have everything I’ve ever wanted. You, the boys…this."

He turned you to face him, his eyes shining with love. "I'm gonna make so many babies with you, darling," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "We're going to have a whole football team!"

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh, really?" you teased. "We'll see about that."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "More than anything in the world."

"I love you too, Clint," you whispered back, your heart overflowing with happiness. You finally had your happily ever after.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog and comment. ❣️

Send me your request and reviews I appreciate that.

Previous chapter

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Okay one, when Butters is super horny and it's just you two he'll hump your leg without realizing it and two can we have HCS of the main 4 + Butters with a reader that doesn't finish easily cuz they're on antidepressants? U don't gotta go into detail but it's a similar thing that I struggle with :3/nf

- 🐣 anon

 #1 - ABSOLUTELY. In your sleep too...

 #2 - Here it is! Hope I did it justice. I might've been a bit too honest about how I see these people. was it made clear i have a favourite? no?

Also, for the people that have sent me asks with requests and stuff: I did not yeet them into the void. I try to do the most I can, so if I haven't gotten to your ask yet, it's very likely I'm holding onto it because I either need another request done first (I guess y'all have noticed how slow I am) or need to converse with my three brain cells (which only awaken in a very specific planetary position) before I can actually write it.

MAIN 4 + BUTTERS HEADCANONS - ANORGASMIC READER

𓆩♡𓆪 STAN MARSH

Eeeeh… Well, sorry. But the very first thing this dude will do is blame himself.

After your first time together when he cums and realizes you didn’t, it’s an automatic shift in the mood from chill and sexy to absolutely dark. He fully sulks, thinking he’s the most selfish motherfucker on the planet, that you’re definitely going to leave him and you should because he doesn’t deserve you.

Which then makes it a shock when you actually explain to him what’s going on - it involves you opening up about some rather personal subjects, and he pays close attention to every word, slowly feeling even worse for making your problems about himself. Out of nowhere, it turns into the both of you butt naked talking about life.

You bond over something. He drowns himself in alcohol to escape his own depression, right? Alcohol can cause erectile dysfunction. At first he didn’t imagine his problem could be similar to yours - but, even if it’s not the same thing, he feels a bit… seen, in a way. Less ashamed of himself.

The concept of things maybe getting a bit more difficult moving on scares him a little bit, no doubt. Like, what if he ends up doing wrong by you and then it really becomes his fault? But he’s suddenly determined to not let something like this get in the way of your relationship - so he pushes through it, and you two end up emotionally closer as a result since you decide to face your problems together.

𓆩♡𓆪 KYLE BROFLOVSKI

The smartest about it. i love him so much i married him 3 times already actually

This is the type of knowledge he’d have even if he doesn’t take antidepressants himself. So, once he finds out you do (either by you outright telling him or by him noticing something around your house), the dots connect in his mind instantly.

So he knows the issue isn’t with either of you, rather it’s a side effect like all medications have, albeit a very bothersome one.

And what do we do with problems? We sort ‘em out. So this guy is doing research and reading scientific articles to try and approach it from a practical sense for you, especially if you’re getting in your head about it, he’s showing you actual information to drill into your head that it is normal.

To be real with you, I think that, in general, Kyle’s one of those people that heavily subscribes to the notion that ‘sex is more about connection and both parties feeling good rather than orgasms’. So he’d have your back in that regard, remind you of it often, and keep that philosophy whenever you two are together. i’m marrying him a 4th time right now

Extra little fact: He’s read through the medicine information leaflet for your medication like a dozen times to figure out everything that it does and any potential other side effects. And probably cornered himself into an anxiety attack of his own by doing so, tbh.

𓆩♡𓆪 ERIC CARTMAN

sighs I’m holding onto the hands of all the Cartman wives right now. But y’all knew what you were in for when you chose the hellspawn. And he’d by far be the hardest to come to an understanding with.

He wouldn’t comprehend it at all. Like, surely this couldn’t be a problem with him (and, for once in his life, he’s right on that!), right? He’s amazing! So that leaves out the other half of the equation, which is you, and he’s sure that’s where the ‘problem’ lies.

It’s entirely possible that you two might even fight over it. He feels a bit threatened by the prospect of there being an inadequacy in your relationship, and so he gets defensive.

Once he gives it a Google search and finds out it’s actually something that happens, though, boy does he regret arguing. And then you get something that you probably should’ve recorded because it’s a once-in-a-lifetime affair: an honest to God apology, complete with flowers on your doorstep, from Eric Cartman.

He ends up having to re-learn a lot of his preconceived notions about sex. A lot of newfound understanding about orgasms not being the end-all-be-all of the deal, and learning different ways to bring you pleasure, physically and mentally. But we know how he gets when he sets his mind to something, and he does deliver on that regard. Cartman growth arc what do you know

If he does make you cum, though? No one is ever hearing the end of it. So so smug.

𓆩♡𓆪 KENNY MCCORMICK

At first, this idiot sees it as a challenge. Like you’re being bratty or testing him out or something - which he’s down for.

But then he goes serious immediately when you explain what actually is going on, and he does apologize. It is all a little bit confusing in his mind, to be fair - for him, arousal and sex are the only actual easy things in life, so this feels out of left field to him. 

Honestly? It would take a bit of explaining to him that your situation is a side effect from medicine. I feel like his household is one where the concept of depression is spoken of as ‘laziness’, so his knowledge about the subject is zero when you first talk.

He’s willing to make amends, though. He does provide a lot of emotional support - in the usual Kenny way; there’s a lot of non-sexual touching involved - and makes sure you understand that it’s not gonna be a problem for him and that he doesn’t think less of you for that at all despite his initial misunderstanding.

And from then on, whenever you two meet for that, he’s a man prepared for battle. Sex toys, lube, water and snacks to replenish energy, anything he can possibly try on you to bring you that pleasure. And if still by the end of the ordeal you don’t finish at all, he’s gonna have made sure you felt good. 

𓆩♡𓆪 LEOPOLD ‘BUTTERS’ STOTCH

So sweet it gave me a cavity, as usual. 

Does blame himself a bit as well at first, but doesn’t get in his head nearly as much as Stan would. It just takes a little bit of talking and that sadness gets quickly replaced by legitimate concern.

Another guy who wouldn’t understand antidepressants very well because his parents would’ve probably given him the belt if he even thought about saying he was depressed. He’s a fast learner, though; the explanation amps up his concerns for you a bit, but it also brings him back to his regularly scheduled programming, which is…

You get absolutely smothered with support and reassurance. He’s not gonna let you feel bad about a single thing if he can avoid it; so if you have any insecurities in that regard, he’s helping get rid of them with loving words and a little bit of careful insight he’s picked up from his limited understanding of the matter.

He’s eager to go through with any possible suggestion to sort things out and make things better for you. Different positions, actions, or sex toys? Why not! Sex therapy? He has no idea what it actually entails, but sure, go right on. He needs you comfortable first and foremost, whatever shape that takes.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[cece693]

Please more Salvatore brothers together!!! Love all your works!!!

Pulling the Strings

pairing: the salvatore brothers x male reader tags: reader is kinda an ass, manipulative as shit, reader playing games and being messy, but i kinda like him tbh, basically me if I was in the show

The Lockwood mansion party is winding down. The dance floor has thinned, and the music is softer. A handful of guests remain, speaking in hushed voices or laughing quietly on the terraces. You linger, deliberately letting Stefan and Damon circle you like hungry wolves. Every once in a while, one of them musters up a conversation with Elena—still using her presence as an excuse to be near you—but they’re so clearly focused on you that it’s laughable.

Eventually, you slip off to a quieter part of the estate: a small garden just past the mansion’s east wing. White fairy lights glow around topiaries and intricately trimmed hedges, lending the space a romantic air. The perfect setting to turn the screws of jealousy.

Walking down the narrow gravel path, you text Bonnie—pretending she’s someone you’re interested in—ensuring Stefan and Damon catch the mischievous smile on your lips as you read her replies.

Come on, guys, you think. Take the bait. Sure enough, Damon appears out of the shadows first, casual swagger on full display. “Who’s got you grinning like that?” he asks, tone light, but his eyes flash with something sharper.

You slip your phone into your pocket. “No one important,” you say with a shrug.

He doesn’t buy it. “Right,” he drawls, letting the word stretch. “So unimportant that you’re texting them at two in the morning?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth, and you lean back against the cool stone wall. “You jealous, Damon?”

His lips twist as if he’s considering a witty comeback, but before he can speak, Stefan joins the scene. His voice, quieter but no less intense, interrupts Damon’s retort. “Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” His gaze slides from you to his brother. “Everything okay here?”

Damon rolls his eyes. “Peachy, Stefan.”

Your sister’s name flits through your mind; you realize she’s probably wondering where everyone has gone off to. But you push that concern aside. Right now, the only thing that matters is stoking the fire of rivalry flickering between the brothers. “It’s kind of chilly,” you say, feigning a small shiver. “Maybe we could go inside?”

“Oh, I’ll warm you up,” Damon murmurs, his grin downright sinful as he steps closer.

Stefan glares at him, then gently places a hand on your shoulder, his own brand of protective tenderness. “Don’t let Damon twist your words. We can head back in if you’re cold.”

You give them both a measured look, trying to decide which button to push. In a flash of daring, you let your fingertips graze the back of Damon’s hand. Then, almost immediately, you turn and let the side of your body press lightly against Stefan’s. The effect is instantaneous: jealousy flares in both their eyes, and you can practically hear their anger simmering. You hide your satisfaction behind a polite smile.

Stefan makes the first move when you’re halfway back to the mansion. The tension in him breaks; he gently grabs your wrist and spins you around to face him, stepping into your personal space. “Can I—?” he starts, voice husky with uncertainty and desire. His eyes are locked on your lips, and he doesn’t bother to finish the sentence.

Before you can respond, Stefan leans in and kisses you—soft, tentative. His lips are cool and gentle at first, but the undercurrent of vampire intensity thrums beneath the surface. You allow yourself a moment to indulge in the kiss before pulling back, a flush painting your cheeks despite the chill air.

Not missing a beat, Damon clears his throat—a low, annoyed sound. “How sweet, Stefan,” he drawls, “always so polite.” Then, Damon’s hand curls around your elbow, gently but firmly pulling you away from his brother. There’s a whisper of warning in his touch, a challenge to Stefan.

“Don’t even—” Stefan starts, but Damon is already moving.

“Come on,” Damon says in that languid, almost taunting voice of his, “I’m dying to know how that little nobody on your phone compares to the real deal.”

It happens so quickly you can barely register the shift. Damon’s grip tightens around your arm; his other hand moves to the back of your neck. Where Stefan’s kiss was tender, Damon’s kiss is anything but—it’s heated, demanding, hungry. Your heart thunders in your chest at the sudden rush of adrenaline. The taste of whiskey lingers on his lips, and the faint sting of parted lips on yours draws a gasp you can’t hold back. When Damon finally pulls away, he doesn’t let go of your arm. Stefan’s presence looms behind you, anger rolling off him in waves.

“You two want to calm down?” you manage, voice a little breathless.

Damon exhales a short laugh. “Careful, sweetheart. We could just keep going.” His eyes flick over your face, brimming with confidence he’s sure will rattle Stefan.

Stefan, though, has the moral high ground in mind. “Damon, let them breathe,” he snaps. But there’s a slight tremor in his voice that betrays how rattled he is by Damon’s bold move.

You plant a hand on each of their chests—an act as much to steady yourself as to keep them apart. Their hearts, or whatever remains of them in their undead bodies, thrum with tension. In that quiet moment, you catch your breath. They hover there, each pinned by your touch.

This is your masterpiece: two powerful, centuries-old vampires literally panting for your attention. You tilt your head, letting a smug grin lift your lips. “That was intense.” You glance from Stefan to Damon, savoring how they struggle not to tear each other apart.

Stefan’s green eyes soften fractionally. “I’m sorry, I just—”

You silence him with a single look, then turn to Damon, whose smirk dares you to scold him. “I wasn’t complaining.”

Stefan exhales, tension warring with relief. Damon’s eyes spark in triumph, but you’re not going to let either of them settle comfortably. “Now you both see,” you say, voice low, “I know exactly what you’re after. Neither of you can hide it. And I decide who gets my attention—and when.”

Damon chuckles, brushing a thumb across his lower lip as though remembering the taste of you. “I like this side of you,” he admits. “It’s fun.”

Stefan, trying to regain composure, nods slowly. “You’re full of surprises.”

You smirk. “And there’s a lot more where that came from.”

In the distance, you hear Elena’s voice calling your name. You know she’s still clueless about the depth of the brothers’ fixation on you, but that won’t last forever. Eventually, she’ll put the pieces together. For now, though, you still have the upper hand. Stepping away from them—forcing them to release their hold on you—you glance over your shoulder. “We should get back. Elena’s worried.”

Neither brother immediately follows. You revel in the hush that settles between them as they stare at you, hearts ablaze with want. With deliberate slowness, you head toward the main building, letting them watch you go. It takes a beat, but then you feel the air shift as the vampires move to catch up, jostling each other for position. You wear a private, triumphant smile: they’re playing right into your hand.

You are the puppet master. For all their supernatural power, the Salvatore brothers are ensnared by your every look, every whisper, every subtle brush of your hand. And tonight, you made sure they’d never forget it.

[victorclays]

@spirkkock yessss! Oblivious NED IS THE BEST NED. like he has noooooo idea at all. Because he's just a farm boy. And when he was young he was even worse with people and people just... didnt like him. At least not romantically. And so he has a hard time understanding and accepting that people feel that way about him. I wanna say he's also not very experienced BECAUSE of that. Like he WANTS things. But people dont want him. Sad ned.

I feel tom would stay there for AWHILE. but would eventually have to go back. And he tell ned he should come visit. Even just for a weekend maybe? His sister can watch the farm for the weekend, she does sometimes when he has to go away for ... reasons.... (i dont know the reasons)

And maybe Ned realllyyyy hates the city. But he wants to make Tom happy cuz he stayed with him for so long. Maybe like... almost 2 fucking months... so Ned goes. And it goes... badly. He has like ... three panic attacks and is only there for 3 days and its so awkward and tom feels so bad.

But ned feels worse cuz he's a fucking idiot who couldnt even handle three days in the city without freaking out. So their goodbye is awkward.

And tom lasts Maaayyybbbeee two weeks before he's like, i cant do this. I cant stay here and just message my farm boy. When i know what its like being near him in that peaceful place. With all those soft fucking smiles.

Ans they've kind of...not been talking as much. Mostly because Ned is nervous and thinks he fucked up and is super embarrassed about how he acted. But tom doesn't even care. Hasnt even thought of that aside from wishing he'd just, held him longer. Or went back with him.

So tom fucking packs several bags. Shows up at Ned's IN THE RAIN, because DRAMA!! and he's muddy and trying to lug his bags from the car through the mud to the door and ned comes around the side of the house, a fucking chicken under his arm probably, because one of his chickens like to play in the mud.

And he just stops, and tom stops. And they just stare at each other. And Ned, bless him, is like "did you forget something?" Little idiot. And thomas laughs, so fucking hard. Drops all his shit in the mud and stomps over to ned and he's like, "yes i- put the chicken down."

And ned clears his throat but drops the chicken, she squawks and runs bsck around the house. And tom shakes his head and huffs and is like "yes. I forgot something. Something important." And Ned's all frowny and like "i didn't... find anything..." and rubs at his neck and thomas sighs and grabs Ned's shirt and is like, "so fucking clueless."

And just drags him into a kiss and Ned's arms are around him immediately, warm against the chill of the rain and they just stay there. Until ned mumbles "Yer stuffs gettin muddy" into Tom's mouth and Tom just breathes "dont care" into Ned's mouth and keeps kissing him. His stupid hot little farm boy smiling into the kisses.

(Also had a thought that thomas has a picture of ned with a chicken on his head. Because ned naps in the barn sometimes and his ladies like to cuddle and he woke once with one on his head and took a selfie and sent it to tom and he almost melted on the spot cuz ned was sleep ruffled and ... had a fucking chicken on his head.)

…..modern AU where Jopson has an ASMR YouTube channel where he role plays like he’s your barber or your esthetician or your tailor and whispers conspiratorially to you while he cuts your hair or measures you (Ned is obsessed and confused about why he likes it so much).

[theeleventhhour]

Why I laughed when I saw the beach bracelet???

[ctl-yuejie]

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

okay i like the split outfit thing but honestly that’s the only part of that whole bi-generation thing i was into

[phagodyke]

didnt think it was actually physically possible to experience worse period cramps than I was already getting every month but being back on the pill again has proven me wrong 🫠🫠🫠🫠

[medicinemane]

You know... I was just struck by a thought, I wonder if it's that Sabe can compel people or if it's that he decides what will happen and then there's no choice but to do it (or more like, if the compelling is purely mental or if there's an element of shadow walking to it)

Because he's frankly ridiculously psychicly strong, and he's also actually an insanely good shadow shifter (like very nearly able to pull off x=x style stuff, it's just he has to make sure no one's looking including himself to pull it off... lot of grabbing things out of cupboards that obviously weren't there before except for the small fact that they've always been there as of now), so the thing is that if he tells someone to take a seat and they find out that's what they're doing regardless of if they wanted to... is it him messing around in their mind or is it that he's pressing on the fabric of things so that they were always going to sit down right then?

It doesn't really matter, and it's probably mostly the former for a number of reasons... but it did just kinda occur to me that he does a lot of the latter so that could totally be the case here too

(It's funny, but for a long time I hadn't noticed just how strong he'd gotten because it's all so naturally done, and then you start realizing that while he's just a very strong swordsman, that a lot of the more mental areas he's doing stuff far beyond what most people can do. I mean he's basically a living Arcana among other things)

(The other funny thing is while he was still in his own shadow, he was kind of a power hungry asshole, but the moment he actually got to see how things were by getting a bit of true power... he kind of realized he didn't care very much about being in charge anymore, became happy to take a backseat and focus on being the universal fixer, and once he didn't even slightly care about power anymore it turns out that it just kind of falls into his lap)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

love this as posted by goosebumps completionist on twitter as a gtm:pota + gts (series (book) (i also saw the episode but it underwhelmed)) pota enjoyer and also to an extent goosebumps generally (i have only read so many & cue the variation within one zillion of them like "oh right i have only just rediscovered i Did read monster blood b/c a couple details Were familiar to me, but overall it was so unmemorable i forgot this")

noting any of the way being Undead works out here lmao like that basically you're alive and having a mostly typical time. but if you're a ghost you do have that ghost quest to get to, which is why you're a ghost. and if you're having a fully corporeal revived time (which ghosts mostly are. or entirely, as far as anyone ever knew or it was ever mentioned with phantom brian colsen out here) it is also just another tuesday....unless it's not! (welcome to dead house (need to kill some people to sustain you)) (a zombie in trouble (will have to attack with all your fury. do they kill people in a required supernatural way? that's their little secret)) also love the written Goosebumps Humor like this is so funny already. a zombie in trouble. i admit it.

[kakashisbabymama218]

katsuki likes to send you videos of him jerking off.

he’s locked himself in the bathroom at the frat party denki and eijirou convinced him to come to, even though he’d rather have you sitting that pretty pussy on his face. the only reason he came was because you were stuck at work for the next few hours.

he had snuck away and was going to facetime you but then he got a better idea. he turns his phone on and opens the camera, fingers pressing the record button as he goes to push his pants down.

katsuki makes a show of it too, taking his time undoing the drawstring of his sweats, pushing them down just enough to have his fat cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

he’s hard as a rock, pre smeared along his tip. he rocks his hips back and forth, letting his heavy length swing before he’s taking it in his hand. he strokes himself once, then twice, groaning quietly in the background.

his hand wrapped tightly around the base of his dick, his thumb rubbing at the bulbous tip that’s practically leaking precum. he has his shirt pulled up, his toned stomach showing slightly in the camera. katsuki takes the hand that was just on his dick to scratch at his abs, doing what you’d do if you were there with him. bakugou loves the feeling of your nails dragging back and forth against his skin, the marks you leave on his back as he pounds into you are his favorite.

katsuki wishes it was your hand wrapped around his dick, soft and small unlike his calloused hands.  or maybe even your mouth, all warm and tight and wet. you’re so pretty when you got a mouth full of dick. Soft, pink lips stretched as far as they’ll go as you struggle to fit even his thick tip past your lips.

and he’s so vocal in the background.

“fuckkk pretty girl—” his voice deeper than usual and laced with arousal.

“wish it was you bouncing on this dick” he strokes himself faster, handing moving up and down as the camera follows his every move.

“wanna feel you cummin on this dick baby”

 “don’t worry pretty girl, imma come stretch that pussy out when you get off”

“fuck princess, gonna fill you up. get you nice a full of my cum” he’s close, all it takes is a couple more strokes before he’s cumming, thick spurts of cum shooting out of him.

“shit” he curses, breathing hard enough for you to hear over the faint background music from the party still going on inside the house.

a couple of ropes of cum land on the screen of his phone and he images it was your face instead, painting your face with his seed. he hits send on the video before cleaning up the mess he made.

katsuki finds denki a few minutes later, high as fuck as he makes out with some girl. he sends both of the boy a quick text letting them know he’s heading back to his place and chill till you got off.

Part 2