#or just the -I could learn to do pretty much anything if it's for a friend-

[lokipokey]

࣪𖤐.ᐟ — there’s just something about putting gojo and nanami in the challengers threesome situation that i simply cannot resist so lest us fret and let us feast

the chase was always the fun part. that back and forth banter between you and your counterpart — pushing them past their breaking point as you saunter away time and time again because they'd always come back for more. you knew how to lure. and you were divine at it. so much so that it was even a foundation of your cursed technique. the chase was something you lived for. those moments of feeling ever so high, especially alongside the horrors of the profession of sorcery, was what got you through the day. it was elementary, really. a good work crush could solve everything.

satoru gojo was too easy. you had him wrapped around your finger the moment you met him. even if he was just as quick-witted and could send your shit right back at you, at the snap of your fingers he was your dog and he’d sit down and listen. the eye and admiration of kento nanami, on the other hand, was your prized possession, something you learned you had to earn. nanami was your work in progress. he puts up a fight to remain the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. he’d never allow himself a crush in the workplace. the profession of sorcery was too serious. but from the moment the two of you met in school, unbeknownst to you, he quickly realized you were different. kento nanami saw everything he needed to know in the way you carried yourself as a sorcerer. despite his usual indifference to people in general, you grew on him pretty quickly. it was something he kept to himself. you’d been etched on his heart ever since.

the pair were polar opposites. the egotistical asshole and the stoic gentleman. two of your colleagues that shared nothing in common. you laughed to yourself in your head. that wasn't all true. they did share one thing.

that’s why you almost didn't know what to do with yourself now that you had them both here on the end of the bed, sitting on either side of you, so close your outer thighs pressed flat against either of theirs.

it was dead silent, aside from the shallow breaths. the tension in the air so thick you could choke on it. you could feel both sets of eyes on you as you sat there facing straight ahead. they didn't dare move, not without your say.

with a release of your breath, you ran your hands down either of their thighs, trailing a reassuring rub back and forth with a gentle squeeze of either knee. both men faltered at your simple touch. they were antsy, thanks to you, and unapologetically desperate. anything from you and they'd come undone. filthily shameless, too, both of them— neither giving a single fuck that the other is there. anything they can get from you, they'll take with open arms. even in the presence of the other.

it dumped fuel on your fire.

your eyes flitted over to your right, meeting nanami's hazel gaze, taking a moment to yourself to revel in the piercing look before taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. as if he was a delicate thing, despite the strapping size of him. his big strong arms closing in on your frame as they find either side of your ribcage and hold you there with him. as if you would saunter away at any given moment. his lips matched yours in a soft, passionate dance, with a deep-rooted passion that had begged to see the light of day for so long now that was finally allowed to burn. it was achingly sweet, filled with an unrecognizable desire and warmth from the reserved man. you re-met his lips again and again and again, each reunion needier than the last. his hands strained around your frame, his hold so firm like he was making a claim of you.

gojo was genuinely tweaking on the left of you. he needed your attention, now. needed your pretty eyes on him and somewhere to put his restless hands. watching you kiss nanami like your life depended on it shamelessly had his dick hard, waiting his turn so patiently that you'd give it to him just as good if not better. you were playing with him, right? making him be the one to wait and prove he's a good boy so you'd reward him? god, he fucking hoped so. because he wasn't so sure how long he could last being good with a sight as pornographic as the one set out in front of him.

silently gojo’s fingers grazed the top of your left thigh, grabbing at it lightly, like he was reminding you that he was still there.

you swiftly snatched his anxious hand and held it to your center, holding it there against your ribs without breaking the kiss you were preoccupied with. you hummed in response to both of them, one for praise and one for patience.

you're slow to release nanami's face from your hand, drawing back from his hold. his eyes lock to yours in an instant, pupils so blown with lust you almost didn’t recognize him. you couldn't help the smile that tugged ever so lightly at the corners of your mouth, getting off on that fucking look he's giving you. the way it said everything for him. he was utterly submitted; without hesitation, he was at your mercy.

breaking nanami's gaze, you flip to gojo, who gasps at your full attention. your grin has taken over your lips at the sight of him— the tension holding his shoulders taut and completely upright, the sweat adorning his forehead, his baby blues a shade so bright you nearly squint just to have a longer look. you were torturing this poor man. you could feel him impatiently waiting his turn from beside you the entire time, but that's why he needed it.

you knew how to work your boys up so well. you also knew gojo couldn't handle it. he didn't have the self-restraint, not when it came to you.

his hands had already jumped the gun, trailing your thighs up til he hit your hips where they locked on, digging his fingertips in, his eyes boring into yours as he remained still as his chest heaved in shallow breaths. waiting for your word — for your initiative — and you caught it, holding still there in the moment for just a second too long just to revel in his anticipation before leaning in, ever so slowly, until your lips hovered in front of his. those bright eyes left yours to steal a glance down at your parted, panting lips, wordlessly begging you to close the gap. he knew better than to do it himself, as much as he yearned to.

but toying with your boys was what you did best.

you inched the last inch closer, just barely grazing his lips when that soft grin fought its way back to your lips and you whispered, "are you sure your infinity is turned off—"

"for fuck's sake—"

gojo crashed his mouth to yours, not able to control himself any longer. and you oblige, letting him take control as he grabs you into a tight embrace, one hand clutching the back of your neck and the other wrapping around to press you further into him at center of your back. anything to get you closer to him. a place he could finally have you and keep you in. the kiss was rottenly sweet, despite the torment you put him through. he can't keep still, trailing his hands to your face, caressing it as you make quick work of his tongue. you knew he'd need more of you after the teasing, your efforts making him moan raggedly into your mouth.

your right hand dragged up his front to rest delicately at his jaw, grasping it with force at your fingertips. there was a want with every press of his lips, desire coating every flick of his tongue. doing everything he’d been dying to do since he first laid eyes on you.

you paused your fit of passion when a another smile graced your lips. gojo pulled back to look at your face, those baby blues studying your features as his saliva-glossed lips hung parted as he panted to regain his breath.

you caught nanami off guard when you flicked your attention back to him for another kiss, but he returned it with matching energy. gojo pressed his chest up into your back, cupping at your breasts through your shirt, lips connecting with your neck as he peppers soft wet kisses along it. you flicked back to gojo, redirecting his lips to yours again and he gladly obliges. nanami's hands found either side of your ribcage from behind as he buries his face in your neck, breathing in your hair like he was committing it to memory. you flicked back and forth until you had your hands at the back of their heads, drawing them closer and closer to you in the center until you closed the gap between them right before your line of vision, and watch as you press their lips together.

they’re so lost in the moment they don’t react how you might have expected them to react given any other circumstance. your wide-eyed stare can't be broken from the sight. frozen there, you can only watch as the two men go at it. it's ravenous, leaving you slack jawed as you fought to regain your breath. their hands are a blur — in a fit of pure chaos darting from place to place — running through one another's hair to clutching at your thighs to grasping at each other's throats. you're lost in the trance that is this, caving backward to lean on your elbows against the bed, cunt throbbing at the scene set before you. admiring your boys, bonding over the one thing they agree on.

as they made work of each other, several seconds passed as your mind raced with the possibilities now laid out before you. in that very moment, you closed your eyes to release a sharp, relieving breath, and then flicked them open.

the chase had just begun.

“i better head out,” your voice startled the both of them out of the fit of passion they were lost in, both flicking their heads to you to give you their full attention, eyes wide at your statement.

dumbfounded words of protest at your suddenly announced departure began tumbling from their mouths, though you were quick to cut it off.

“it’s getting late. we’ve gotta be up early to finish the mission. wouldn’t wanna ruin your beauty sleep,” you grinned at the pair as you rose up from between them on the bed, them remaining frozen there as you sauntered to the door, sending one last glance back to drink in the same stunned expression on both their faces, “see you bright and early, boys.”

[illubean]

Walk Him Like a Dog!

In which Nerdjo is your roommate (eventually boyfriend) who will do anything for you <3

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: Oneshot, Fem!Reader, can u tell I'm a sucker for College!AU

ignore the unserious ass images idk what to use for this 😭

Warnings: descriptions of reader's appearance (stuff like smooth skin or long lashes, nothing too specific), NSFW Reader discretion is advised (it’s probably skippable)

Gojo doesn't know how he's going to survive having you as a roommate.

He doesn't do all that well when it comes to the social scene. Sure, he's nice and accidentally charismatic, but he's only found few people who will listen to him talk about his hobbies without judgement. That being said though doesn't mean he's anti-social. Quite the opposite actually.

When Gojo posted about the vacancy in his apartment, it was because his previous roommate and best friend transferred schools, leaving him all alone in the space. The snowy haired male could easily afford to live on his own, but he couldn't stand to be completely by himself. Initially, he just expected some random guy would take the room, someone who he could be at least somewhat friends with (because lets be real, he can never and will never replace his moody bestie).

What he didn't expect, though, was a pretty thing like you messaging him to ask about the room. When you met at the campus cafe to chat before you made the final decision to move in, his jaw dropped as you settled in the seat across from him. It was like a scene out of a cheesy romance movie, or even that part in Lego Batman where he sees Barbara for the first time. Your hairstyle suited you perfectly, long lashes batting as he watched how your perfectly glossed lips moved when you spoke. He was so entranced he almost didn't catch what you said.

"Hey! Thanks for meeting up with me. I seriously need to move ASAP, I'm glad I saw your post before anyone else asked about it!"

"Uhm.......wow you're so...I mean yeah, how lucky!"

The poor guy practically had heart eyes while everything around you turned to glitter, emphasizing your features. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Gojo focused on you. It wasn't the first time he's seen you around. Often times you'd pass him on the way to class or around the dining hall, always with a friend. He always knew you were gorgeous but never bothered to approach you, concluding that you were way out of his league. And you were so much prettier up close.

You pretended not to notice his very obvious gawking. If it were any other man, you would've probably cussed him out and walked away by now. But it wasn't a secret that Gojo was cute; he also seemed pretty sweet in comparison to the douchey guys who approached you most of the time. You spent 15-20 minutes chatting with him before you had to run to your next class. He was happy things went well and you decided to take him up on his offer, arranging to move all of your stuff into his apartment the upcoming weekend.

About a month or so after you settled into your new living arrangement, Gojo was able to see sides of you no one but your closest friends know about. He got to learn more about your hobbies and little habits, like how on occasion you partake in what you call "floor time". He even got to watch how you stumbled out of your room and padded your way to the kitchen in the morning, sporting an atrocious bedhead and your cartoon pj pants. Even with eye crusties and sleep lines on your face, he still thought you were adorable.

The more time that passed by, Gojo fell harder and harder for you. He never planned to tell you about his feelings though; just seeing you go about your life in the shared space and having you around was enough. He couldn't risk the good thing he had going over a silly not so little crush.

Aside from being in love with you, living together and having you as a roommate was very pleasant. You made sure to keep things clean and never shied away from spending quality roommate time with Gojo. You also made it so that Gojo himself took better care of the space and his well being. All just by being there.

You guys grew to become pretty close friends. He would walk you to your classes whenever he had the chance, you would sit with him while he studies or plays his games and the two of you even had weekly movie and or TV show binge nights. Gojo always chose some nerdy superhero or fantasy movie with the occasional anime series, but you never really minded. During his free time, your tall companion rarely left the apartment. And if he did, it was usually just to accompany you. And you quickly realized that he rarely ever said no to you. Any time you asked him to drive you to the grocery store, hold your bag while you were out or even just simple things like helping you open a pickle jar he always did so with enthusiasm. He has never once complained about any of the tasks you ask of him, even if it was something ridiculous like rearranging the layout of your room ten times just to put everything back to the way it was before. He was always happy to help. After realizing how good he treats you, you quickly started falling for the man yourself. He really was a sweet boy, ever so helpful and kind and not to mention the cutest thing ever. You never missed the way his cheeks would dust a rosy shade whenever you were too close, or how he fidgets with his clothes when he’s feeling nervous. Even the light and passion in his eyes whenever he would geek out about the marvel franchise or whatever video game he was currently into was adorable. It was obvious there was mutual attraction between the two of you, but in order to have some fun you decided to see how far you could push his limits before everything would come out into the open.

You started by asking him for his opinion on small things, like what color shirt he liked better on you or if you should wear blue or black jeans. Then from there, it went to asking him about things on your computer (which you may or may not already know how to do). This would force him to either lean next to or above you while you sat in your desk chair, watching your screen and taking your mouse from you to fix whatever needed fixing. Then, you started asking for more risqué things, like helping you zip up the back of a dress or bringing you a towel that you so coincidentally forgot. You were always sure to thank him genuinely, which escalated from words, to hugs then to pecks on the cheek.

Every time you physically expressed your gratitude, Gojo would freeze up momentarily before offering a quiet “no problem” and retreating to whatever it was he was doing before. On one of your TV nights, you decided to amp things up a bit. Typically, the two of you sat a normal distance away from each other, but as the movie went on you would scootch closer and closer to him. The TV was currently playing whichever part of the Starwars trilogy; Gojo’s pick of course.

“Hey Toru, can you do me a favor?”

He glanced over at you, momentarily turning his attention away from the film to answer you with a smile.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I’m kind of cold. Can we cuddle?”

His body stiffened as he turned a complete 90 degrees to face you, shoulders tense while he stammered out his response.

“ARE YOU SURE!? I mean- ahem…we can…if you want.”

You giggled at his response before sliding even closer to him, gently pushing him to lay against the armrest of the couch and settling atop him. You could hear his heartbeat quicken while his hands froze in the air for a moment, before awkwardly resting against your back.

“Why’re you so tense? I don’t bite.”

“Right.”

He let out a shaky breath before trying to relax into the couch, lanky limbs entangled with your own. Without tearing your eyes away from the TV screen, you readjusted yourself as well as Gojo, leading his arms to rest around your waist instead of awkwardly against your shoulder blades. You tucked your own arms around and underneath his midsection while you laid comfortably against his broad chest. For someone who didn’t go outside much, he was well built. You weren’t too interested in the movie choice for tonight, but pretended to be for Gojo’s sake. Allas, your attempts were futile as halfway through you ended up falling asleep, lulled by the soft badump badump badump of his hearbeat.

(nsfw below)

After that night, Gojo avoided you like the plague. You were beginning to worry that you may have pushed his boundaries too far. Maybe you read him wrong and he wasn’t interested in you the way you thought. But in reality, that couldn’t be any farther from the case. After getting to cuddle with who Gojo swears is the most beautiful woman on the planet, he couldn’t think about anything else. You were on his mind constantly, often invading his dreams at night and he was too embarrassed to face you. Especially when those dreams became…not so wholesome. He felt bad about thinking of you in this way, he really did. But he just couldn’t help himself. Especially when the weather was shifting and getting warmer. Now, you often opted to sleep in tiny tank tops or shorts, 99% of the time without a bra. This left little to the imagination.

In the late hours of the night, Satoru would pathetically stroke his cock to the thought of you; his pretty little roommate sleeping in the next room. A small part of him thinks you know what you do to him, but the greater portion chalks it all up to you just being friendly, and he was just some disgusting pervert. Satoru whimpers, feeling unimaginably guilty but he just can’t stop. Every night since you watched Starwars together, he would retreat to his room and rub his sad, weeping dick raw to the thought of you. Tonight, his fantasies were running particularly wild. He imagined it were your hand working him instead of his own, imagining the way you would plant kisses against him and tell him how good he’s doing. With a needy whine, Satoru erupted all over his hand and lower abdomen, panting as he leaned against the headboard of his bed.

His body relaxed while he came down from his high, only to tense up again at the sound of his door being slammed open.

“Toru, are you okay!? I heard a-“

You stopped in your tracks as the both of you stared at each other, wide eyed. Satoru was frozen in horror as your eyes trailed down from his own, settling on the pretty length between his legs as it began to stiffen back up again. The initial shock on your face wore off and turned into a sly smirk, causing Satoru to stutter out some lame excuse while he felt heat creep up his neck and engulf his face.

“I’m sorry- it’s not what it looks like!”

Ignoring his embarrassed rambling, you made your way into the room and settled on the bed next to him. Your thigh was pressed flush against his own as you leaned closer to his ear, hand gently grasping his shaft. You felt it twitch beneath your touch, smiling while you whisper into his ear.

“Aww, is this why you’ve been so awkward around me? Y’know, all you had to do was ask.”

Satoru shivered, feeling the way your breath fanned against his face, lips moving to press fluttering kisses against his neck. Pathetic mewls spilled from his lips, feeling jolts of pleasure course through his body at the feeling of your soft hand slowly caressing the angry, pink tip of his cock.

Was this really happening?

His half lidded eyes watched your hand leisurely move up and down as his mind turned to mush. He was broken out of his trance by the feeling of your other hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, turning him to face you before swallowing every noise that came from him. Your lips felt so good against his, so soft.

This was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. From the minute you barged into his room, Satoru was completely engulfed in you. Engulfed in your presence, your stare, and now your touch. The sweet scent of your body wash was comforting as he listened to himself moan against your lips. Taking advantage of this, you pushed your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. Everything felt hot. Everything from the burning of his ears, to the warmth where your skin touched his, and now, the fire within his abdomen running its course to his second orgasm of the night. Satoru’s hips bucked up into your gentle fist, stuttering as ropes of white hot cum shot from his shaft. This time around, it landed higher onto his tummy than it did before, a broken and muffled “mnffhh” buzzing against your lips. Pulling away from the kiss, you didn’t miss how his lips seemed to chase yours nor the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

Letting go of his softening length, your finger swiped up some of the cooling cum off of his sticky tip and brought it to your lips for a taste. Satoru watched you with his ocean colored eyes, glazed over with more than just lust. Your other hand caressed soothing circles at the nape of his neck, fingers threaded through his undercut.

“Toru baby, can you do another favor for me?”

Feeling weak in his post nut haze, all he can muster is a small nod as his swollen lips quivered.

“Only let me see you like this. No one else.”

The next morning, Gojo was almost convinced everything that happened was all a dream. He woke up alone in his bed, the only proof that you could’ve been there was that he was cleaned up and tucked under his covers. Groggily, he swung his legs over the side of his way and dragged himself to the kitchen. The smell of miso soup wafted towards him and he saw you stood in front of the stove.

“G’morning Toru,” you greeted softly, smiling over your shoulder. “Breakfast should be done soon. Come, taste this for me.”

The male blinked a couple of times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How could you be so normal right now? Ignoring his inner thoughts, he’s quick to obey you as you spoon fed him some of the soup.

‘S’good,” he says, yawning and making his way to sit at the table. If you were going to play it cool and pretend things didn’t happen last night, then so would he.

After breakfast the two of you went about your days like you normally would. No matter how much Gojo told himself he was fine with not talking about last night, it was eating him alive as time passed by. It wasn’t until the two of you were getting ready for bed that his resolve snapped. He slowly peeked his head into your room, spotting you doing your skincare routine at your vanity.

“You need something?” you asked, offhandedly, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror.

“About last night…did that….mean anything to you?”

His cheeks flushed as he recalled the events from before. He cursed his body for getting worked up again. He was trying to have a serious conversation with you, damn it!

Finishing up the application of your moisturizer, you stood from in front of your vanity to make your way to the door and pull Satoru inside.

“Of course it did,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. “I’m just waiting on you, big guy.”

Satoru practically melted upon the feeling of your lips against his again, expression switching from worried to a lovestruck, dopey smile. It wasn’t for a few moments did the actually process what you said last.

Waiting on me? For what?

You watched as the gears turned in that pretty head of his, his puzzled face quickly lighting up in realization as if a lightbulb were turned on above him.

“Oh, right! Can I please be your boyfriend!?”

You laughed at his excitement, giving him the answer he wanted to hear for so long. You could almost imagine a pair of fluffy ears perking up from the top of his head and a tail wagging happily behind him. You pressed one last kiss against his lips before pushing him out your room door.

“See you tomorrow, boyfriend.”

As time passed, Satoru started to go out more and more, never once leaving your side. This resulted in him being around your friends as well, which caused him to gain more attention and popularity. Your group wasn’t the most stereotypical popular kids; most just being known from sports or student organizations. Even though you weren’t that known, now that Satoru was part of the rather large friend group, other people began to notice him.

Especially other girls.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you dating, but you also didn’t make it a point to go around and announce it twenty-four seven either. Anyone with a brain and eyes would be able to tell you were together though, especially with the way Satoru always seemed to be attached to your hip and looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That didn’t stop certain girls though.

One of them was feeling particularly ballsy today, approaching where he sat in the dining hall while waiting for you to come back from the bathroom. To anyone else, she was obviously flirting with him. But poor, little, no-experience-with-other-girls Satoru didn’t pick up on it. He held conversation with her until you came back, an eyebrow raised and scowl on your face.

“Oh, hey baby! This is (random name) she’s a transfer student,” he said, beaming as if nothing were wrong. Turning to the other girl, he said “This is my amazing, beautiful girlfriend who I love so much! Maybe the two of you can be friends.”

The girl blinked a couple of times before stiffening under your intense glare. She stammered out some cheap excuse before leaving, which Satoru bought with no questions. The rest of lunch went on normal save for the bitterness you were feeling. You couldn’t even be that mad at your clueless boyfriend; it’s not his fault he was so kind and couldn’t pick up on social ques! He noticed your unusual quietness, asking you if you were alright. You dismissed him, saying you were just tired and you were going to head back to the apartment while he attended his next class.

When Satoru got home, he was expecting you to greet him like you do every time, but the only thing he was greeted by was silence. Around this time you’d usually be on the couch watching your favorite show or maybe doing work on the floor next to the coffee table. Confused for a moment, he concluded that maybe you were sleeping. You did say you were tired, right? You were probably just napping. He quietly crept towards your room and pushed the door open to see you wrapped up in your blankets. Your phone was propped up in front of you playing whatever random youtube video you found after doomscrolling for who knows how long. Happy to see you, your white haired boyfriend was quick to jump into bed next to you and hold your blanket-cocooned body close to him.

“Hi baby!”

“Hi, Satoru,” you grumbled, not doing as much as turning to look at him.

Wait.

‘SATORU’!?

After hearing what you called him, the man screams. Genuinely screams. Who are you and what did you do to his loving, doting girlfriend!? He wasted no time in flipping you over on to your back, hovering above you and looking into your eyes. You were caged beneath him, still sulking and pouting about what happened at lunch today.

“SATORU!!?!?!? What did I ever do to my beautiful, wonderful princess with a disorder to be called by such a name!?”

“That stupid girl from earlier was totally hitting on you!” you whined.

You swear his head could’ve popped like a balloon right now and immediately grown back with how quickly his expression shifted from concerned, to shocked then appalled.

“Oh hell no! How dare she hit on me when I have my pookie right here!? I will literally get your face tattooed on my chest so if a woman ever dare to approach me I’d rip my shirt open like superman to show it off then start barking! ‘Stay away, I’m taken!!!!!’”

“…then they would get to see your chest.”

“Okay nevermind, maybe that’s not a good idea.”

You laughed at him before wiggling your arms out of the blanket cocoon to hug him. How could you stay mad when he was so cute? A wide smile stretched across Satoru’s face as he stopped supporting his own body weight, flopping on top of you and returning your embrace.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“M’not mad anymore. I might have to get you a collar though, make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” you joked.

Little did you know that Satoru was now plotting something.

It’s been a while since that girl approached Satoru, never returning and thus causing you to forget all about it. Your boyfriend stayed true to his word, screaming and barking at whatever girl tried to hit on him after that like a lunatic. You really couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing at this point. Unfortunately for you, it was a friday and you had class while Satoru was off for the week. He walked with you to your first class of the day like he always does then returned home to do whatever it is he spends his time on while you’re away.

Typically, he would laze around the apartment, yelling at people online while playing first person shooters or rewatching every single Batman movie for the billionth time. But today, he had something else in mind. Today happened to be your 3-monthaversary. Very middle school esque, but Satoru couldn’t help it. You were his first everything and the only girl on his mind. He spent the day decorating his room, scattering rose petals down the hall and setting his LED lights to red, aka the freaky color.

“Toru, I’m home-“ you stopped in your tracks after walking through the door. All the lights in the house were off, save for the little battery operated tea candles leading to your boyfriend’s room. You were confused, but followed the candles and rose petals nonetheless. Upon entering his room, you saw heart shaped balloons floating about the space, more rose petals on his bed with your Toru lying propped up on his side in the middle of it all. He’s shirtless with a rose between his teeth and a gift basket in front of him. You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at the sight.

“You dork, what’s this all about?”

"Today marks three months of us being together. Now come get your present!"

You laughed again, this time amused by his enthusiasm, and sat in front of him on the bed. There were so many different things in the gift basket he so lovingly put together for you. There were snacks, refills of your favorite makeup and skincare products, your favorite scented candle and a cute little plushy. In between all those things was a long, short box that you couldn't even begin to guess what was in it.

You glanced up at your boyfriend who was buzzing with excitement before opening it. Upon removing the lid, inside was a baby blue collar with a heart shaped tag on it. You raised an eyebrow in confusion before flipping the tag over to read what it said.

'If lost please return to Y/n L/n'

Your gaze switched between the collar and your boyfriend a couple times before putting two and two together.

“Well…that one’s kind of for me….but it’s still your gift!”

“C’mere then! Let me put it on you,” you beckoned him closer with a smirk.

Satoru wastes no time in leaning closer to you, head tilted up slightly so you can wrap the collar around his neck and buckle it at the front. You sat back to admire the sight of it around his neck, the blue leather matching the very shade of his eyes. You caressed his hair and moved your hand down to his cheek, cooing while he leaned into your touch. After a while of this, your hand moves down to his new collar, giving it a gentle tug towards yourself which elicits a whimper from the male before you. Amused by this, you pressed your lips against his own, keeping your grip around the leather adorning his pretty neck.

Satoru continued to whine and moan into your lips, always being this vocal whenever he’s feeling hot and bothered. You pulled away from him, looking into his half lidded, pleading eyes.

“Oh, my sweet boy. I can’t believe you’d actually wear this for me.”

“Mmmh, I’d do anything for you,” he responds, trying desperately to press his lips back against your own, only to be stopped by the force of your grip around his collar. You chuckled at his needy yelp, lying down on the bed and gently ushering him on top of you. His hands roamed your body while you pulled him back into a kiss, pawing at your tummy, chest or whatever bare skin he could get his hands on. Growing even more needy by the second, Satoru decided that wasn’t enough and started to tug all of your clothes off. You let the white haired man do his thing before helping him shimmy his own remaining clothes off, leaving the both of your bare bodies pressed against each other. Satoru rested his body weight atop of you, slowly rutting his hips against your thigh, silently begging you for what he should do next. His head was resting against your chest, glossy blue orbs looking up at you through his long lashes that batted at you every time he blinked.

Grabbing him by his collar again, this time with both hands, you yanked him back up to be eye level with you once more. The man before you yelped in surprise, cock twitching against you at your newfound roughness.

“Go on, baby. Fuck me like you mean it.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he wasted no time into slipping inside of you. He shivered at the feeling of your slick walls engulfing him, shutting his eyes tight as he focused on building a rhythm. His mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape, thrusting himself into you slow and soft. Unsatisfied with this, you decided you had to bring your boyfriend back down to earth. Satoru’s eyes snapped open and he was awoken from his daze by the sharp sound of a ‘slap!’ and the stinging sensation in his left cheek. He let out a loud moan and his hips bucked up into you before stilling completely, trying his hardest not to cum then and there.

“Eyes on me, pretty boy.”

Shifting his gaze back up to you and seeing that pretty smirk you always wore, he couldn’t help himself for much longer. Wrapping his arms around your waist he quickly began plowing himself into your dripping cunt, doing nothing to contain the breathy ‘aah’s and ‘ohh’s slipping past his kiss bitten lips. He did as he was told, holding eye contact with you as long as he could. Every time his gaze began to slip away or fade out of focus, he was always brought back by the warm buzz each time your palm struck him. Despite your rough behavior, you continued to let out loud moans of your own as a way to let your darling boyfriend know he was doing a good job.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the rhythmic squeaking of his bed frame and the sticky ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his hips meeting yours. Satoru’s body was flushed a pretty shade of pink, skin coated in a sheen of sweat that clung to your own. A mischievous grin spread across your face, letting out an amused laugh when you pinched one of his pert nipples and his hips began to stutter.

“Mmmnh! Noooo, do that and I’ll cum!”

Ignoring his plea you continued your ministrations, legs locking around his hips and trapping him against you. His moans began to grow both in volume and pitch, signaling that he won’t last much longer.

“Cum with me! Fill me up, Toru!”

His pelvis snapped against you one last time, pressing his cock so deep inside you he might puncture a lung. Hot, sticky spurts of seed spilled into you as his back arched into you, head leaning back as far as your grip on his new collar allowed it to. Your legs tightened around him as well, keeping him pressed flushed against you as your weepy pussy gushed around him. Your juices mixed with his load, slowly dripping out from around the base of Satoru’s cock, leaving a creamy mess between your legs.

You let go of his collar and brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, whispering soft praises as you peppered kisses around his face.

“You did so well. My Toru always knows how to please.”

____________________________________________________________________________

taglist :) @sorenflyinn @ilovesugurugeto69 @iheartpotatoes @shutuppeter

it wasn't working for mobile sooo hopefully switching to my computer worked

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

Extra Lessons

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Pairings: Nerd! Sub! Sensitive! Virgin! Kang No-eul x Fem! Top! Reader

Summary: When you are having extra lessons with your classmate, you catch her staring down at your chest and you fuck the nerdy girl.

Warnings: Smut, self doubt from No-eul, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex, praise kink, gentle sex, scissoring, etc.

Author Note: I fucking cut my finger so it’s hard for me to type but lmk if y’all like the sub! No-eul or no?!😔 Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or anything like that!! Sorry the ending was a bit rushed.

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You sigh, leaning back against your chair, your professor had a girl from your class named No-eul give you some lessons after class.

You really didn’t want to be here, sitting in your dorm room next to this girl you barely knew, at least she wasn’t a show off though.

She just knew her stuff, simple as that. You didn’t understand it all though.

She was also very shy, she barely spoke outside of her trying to teach you.

You looked over at her while she spoke, you watch as she stops talking when her eyes meet yours, she turns red.

“Are you understanding it?”

You hum, “Yeah, not really…” You look back at the book and she sighs.

“If something is wrong…I could like…give you the answers.” She says, shyly.

“Oh, yeah? How would I learn from that?” You tease, she blushes, her eyes glance at your boobs through your tank top.

“I…didn’t mean…sorry.” She looks down at her lap, you giggle.

“I was kidding, I’d appreciate it, actually. I don’t think i’ll ever understand this.” You said, tilting your head.

Fuck, she was actually really hot. You’d never been with a cute girl like her.

“Oh okay. You can just text me and i’ll give the answers to you.” She says, pulling her phone out, you bit your lip and slid your pencil off the table.

You push your chair out and got on your knees to grab it from the floor, you look up at her while you bit your lip.

Her eyes are widened and her eyes are on your tits, you slowly stood up.

You grab her phone and type in your number, she’s frozen before her gaze leaves your boobs and goes to her phone.

“Oh, right…”

You hum, “Do you like them?”

She looks up at you, her face hot, “W-What?”

“My tits, I mean, you keep staring at them.”

She looks down at her lap again, “N-No! Of course not, I-I wasn’t…looking.”

“Shh, it’s okay, honey. You can look…really, look now.” You hum, she gulps and shyly looked up.

You grab her hand slowly and place it over your tit, before you grab her other hand and place it over your other tit.

She looks up at your face, you nod and she softly squeezes them. “Wow…” She mutters.

You hum, letting out a small moan, “Come here.”

You grab her hand and pull her to stand up, you pull her to your bed, pushing her shoulders to sit, “Here, lie down for me.”

She lays down on the bed, you crawl on top of her and straddle her thigh, leaning in so your lips were an inch apart from hers.

“May I?” You ask, she nods quickly, “Please, yes…”

Your lips smash against hers in a soft, passionate kiss, she whined against your lips and you loved it, she was so fucking hot.

You pull back, reaching for her glasses, she grabs your hand. “But I can’t see without them…”

“Aw, you want to see me?” You tease, you blushes. “Y-Yes…you’re very pretty.”

You rock your hips into her thigh, “You’re so hot, No-eul.” You hum.

She whines again, she was turning you on so much. You reach for your tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your white laced bra.

You lean forward, “Touch them, go on.” You nod, her shaky hands grab them stiffly, you look down at her.

She looked very scared, “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong? I’m so sorry, we can stop.”

“No, no, i’m sorry. I have no idea what i’m doing, you’re so perfect and i’m just a loser who’s never even touched boobs before.” She frowns, sitting up right.

You kiss her cheek, she looks surprised and looks at you, “It’s okay, I understand.” You smile, she watches you grab your tank top.

“B-But…”

You look up at her, “You seem not ready for something like this. I wouldn’t want to take that from you.”

“I-I really need you…I don’t want to mess this up. C-Can we try again?”

You peck her lips, “If we do this, first…I need you to calm down, okay? Breathe and relax.”

You slowly push her back to lie down, crawling up to kiss her softly.

“Theres nothing wrong with being inexperienced, mhm?” You say against her lips, she nods, taking a deep breath.

She softly grabs your boobs again, lightly squeezing and you nod with a hum, sitting up to rock your hips into her slowly as she plays with your boobs.

You unclasp it, loosening it before leaning in and pulling your boobs out of the bra, she gasps lightly.

You lean in, biting your lip and she places kisses all over them, starting to suck your nipples.

You moan softly, “Yeah, that’s it…” You nod.

You rock your hips mindlessly into her crotch and her hand grips your thigh, her other hand grabs the boob shes not sucking.

You pull the straps down and toss your bra, “You’re a natural, baby…” You moan.

She switches to the other nipple, sucking it and looking up at you with those cute fuck me eyes.

You unzip her pants and she squeezes your thigh, you sat up right and unbuckled her pants.

“Is this okay?” You asked, she nods, unbuttoning her pants quickly and tugging them down.

You rub her thighs, “Can I go down on you?” You ask, she nods with a whine, “P-Please, yes!”

You giggle, slowly pulling her underwear off and tossing them aside.

She shuts her legs nervously, “It’s okay, honey. I’m gonna take good care of you.” You assure her, rubbing her thighs.

She sighs, opening her legs nervously and slowly. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You lick up her folds, her hips twitch.

“H-Huh! That’s…f-fuck…” She whimpers.

Her legs start to shut again and you hum, kissing and licking up her pussy, you push her thighs open.

You lean in, sucking her clit softly, “A-Ah! Gentle, p-please! Oh, please be g-gentle!” She whines.

You pull back, “Honey, i’m being gentle. Please just lay back and relax, keep your legs open.”

You slowly lick up her folds again, you start sucking her clit a little softer, her hips rock.

She was very sensitive, you lick her folds and rub her clit with your thumb.

She whimpers and whines under you, gripping the sheets tightly in her palms, trying to stay calm.

You hum, “I’m gonna put a finger inside, m’kay?”

She whines, “O-Okay…”

You slip your middle finger into her, she sighs, “Went right in, you’re so wet, honey…” You giggle.

“M-More, please, I-I can handle it.”

“I bet you can.” You giggle, slipping in your ring finger. “T’s tight fit, hm?” You start to pump them slowly into her.

She squeezes her eyes shut, “Aw, don’t do that…come on, look at me.” You giggle, sucking her clit.

She looks down at you, holding eye contact with you while you suck her clit softly.

You pump your fingers faster, she moans loudly, her hand quickly moves to your messy ponytail.

“Can I?” She whines, you nod into her, moaning into her pussy, she moans.

You look up at her with doe eyes, she whimpers, squeezing your ponytail. “Don’t l-look at me like that!”

You hum into her, smirking up at her. “I-I think…I-I!”

She’s so whiney and cute, fuck. You go faster, she groans loudly, “It…Ah! It feels funny! Please! E-Enough! It’s-It’s! Fuck!” She screams, squirming under you.

You grip her thighs tightly, she clearly never had an orgasm before, she was also sensitive.

You suck harder, she brings her hand up to her mouth, biting the top of her fingers, whimpering as her other hand tightens in your ponytail.

She squeezes her thighs around your head, you push them open the best you can as she came on you.

You pull back after, “You taste so fucking good.” You hum, she leans back into your pillow, fucked out.

“You’re so pretty when you cum.” You smile, kissing down her neck, she flinches and calls out your name.

You pull back, “You okay?” You ask, she hums “Mhm.” As she nods.

“Can I do you next?” She asks.

You hum, “I think today is about you, hmm?” You giggle.

“Now how about you give me another one?” You kiss down her neck, lifting the bottom of her T-shirt and kissing down her stomach.

“N-No, I want you to feel good, please?”

You hum, “But you taste so good, I want to taste you again.” You kiss her clit, she whines.

“I’ll let you, if y-you let me go first.”

You put your finger on your chin, pretending to think. “I have an idea.” You hum.

You sat up on your knees and unzipped your skirt, you look up at her while you pull your skirt down and toss it.

You took your knee high socks off, tossing them, then you grab her hands and move them to the waistband of your white panties.

“Take these off for me?” You pout, she gulps and slowly and gently pulls them off, you smile up at her.

You might like her, she’s so cute and gentle and sweet…

She tosses them, looking up at you, “So, do I get to do you next?” She asks.

You shook your head with a smile, “Nope.”

You lift her leg so you could straddle her pussy, when your pussies touch she lets out a hiss.

“O-Oh, wow!”

You groan, gripping her thigh, “Oh, fuck…” You rock your hips into her pussy, you were both so wet.

“Yeah, you like that?” You moan, she whines, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods.

“Words, tell me how good it feels.” You pant, she whimpers.

“It feels r-really amazing! You’re so good at this.”

“Oh, yeah?” You moan, she looks down at you rubbing against her with a moan.

She throws her head back against the pillow and she reaches down and grabs your thigh with both of her hands.

She squeezes it, digging her nails into your thigh. “O-Oh!” She moans.

“No-eul, fuck…” You grip her shoulder, she whines.

“P-Please…say it again.”

“No-eul.” You repeat, she whimpers. “No-eul, i’m gonna cum!”

“M-Me too! Fuck…please!”

“Shit…oh!” You came on her and she came soon after.

You got off her lap, laying beside her while you both pant, she looks over at you.

“You’re amazing.” She whispers.

You chuckle, looking over at her, “So are you…”

She blushes, you lean over and kiss her cheek. “So, can I take you out sometime?” You ask.

“Yeah, yeah…that sounds great.” She said, you hum as you cuddle into her chest.

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[sunsbaby]

𓂃 STRANDED FEATHERS

. . . when a strange angel shows up at the bunker

unexpectedly, leaving the boys to help her—or keep her.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ` hurt/comfort | fem!reader | one little kiss |

It all started with the war in Heaven, and oh were you a big help—almost too big of a help. Your power destroyed the enemies, but also your home at the same time. It would be reckless and plain stupid to keep you around if they wanted Heaven to be in one piece after, so they sent you down to Earth. Not forever, but how that back fired.

You didn't know how to feel when your wings carried you onto a patch of grass, thoughts clouded your mind, jumbled into one mess inside your pretty head. The flowers surrounding you gave a feeling of slight comfort, not enough to get rid of the stares that burned into the back of your being as you descended down from up above. Your brothers and sisters, the ones you adored and would die for, voted to cast you away.

You never meant to cause problems, it was your duty to fight. You were programmed to be a soldier, to bend and bow to every word that spewed from any Angel of high authority's mouth. You did what you were created to do—now you were shamed for it?

Heaven needed power, just not the messy kind, not the kind you provided.

Somehow while in the mist of your thoughts, your feet—that were decorated with frilly socks—lead you to a bunker of sorts; your eyes widened as you stared—riddled with confusion. What was this place? It's been warded against you, yet you still found it.

Your hand lightly traces the doors, careful as to not dent to. Seeing as everything you touch breaks. A soft knock is heard from inside the bunker, Sam and Dean turn their heads to the door.

Boots hitting the floor and guns tucked behind their backs, Dean opens the door slightly. His eyes widen as he takes in your appearance—disheveled hair, dirtied white socks, and a dress; while it may have been ripped a bit. To him you looked beautiful, no, what was he thinking.

"Who are you, and what do you want lady?" His voice was gruff, yet you could hear the softness behind it all. Sam stood close, kept vigil.

"I'm an Angel of the lord, I was sent to Earth–" Before you could finish the door was shut in your face. Whispers came from behind it, presumably how you even found the bunker with no knowledge of them or probably anything on Earth.

The door opened once more, this time wider allowing you to step inside. Sam grimaced at the footprints left after every step you took. You took in the sights around you with awe, mouth agape like you'd never seen anything like it before. Dean stared at your twinkling eyes from afar, a fondness brewing deep inside him; though he wanted no part of it.

It took a bit of time for you to get used to how humans did things. You learned so much about the world and the two boys—somehow they learned nothing about you.

You sat on the floor, legs crossed and a pile of books beside you, this was how you spent your days recently—you didn't bother Sam and Dean like usual. Instead you were learning everything you possibly could, learning how to not make a mess—how to be a normal Angel, like God intended.

It didn't slip past Dean how you hid away from them most days, never embracing them back when they hugged you; normally for saving their asses, and the way you seemed to always resent your reflection—eyes averting away from every mirror.

You heard footsteps walking up to you and a voice you knew very well, "What'cha up to, little lady–hm? You seem to have a lot of fun being around a bunch of pages." He teased, looking down as he took a swig of beer, something you noticed he was always drinking.

"Just learning, Dean. Have you ever bothered to do that?" You say back, a grin finding its way onto your lips.

"Ouch, that hurt, little lady." Dean chuckled, his hand moving to pat your shoulder—his brows furrowed as he saw you move away.

"What's up, you've been distant–is there something we don't know?" He asked immediately after, his voice was slightly saddened as well as concerned. In a way it made you feel better, nobody had ever spoke to you in such a caring way.

Your heart sped up and meaningless words spewed from your lips, a distraction of some sorts. A way to direct the conversation elsewhere, but Dean didn't budge. His gaze wasn't harsh, yet it burned deep into you.

"Dean, I...I'm not a safe person. I break anything near me—it's a miracle the bunker hasn't been reduced to atoms!" Tears had prickled into your waterline, but you kept going, like Dean had placed a spell on you.

"Heaven cast me away due to my power, Dean. My touch isn't good, it's messy and dangerous. If I stay too close, you all may–" He cut you off with a kiss, it was pure something sweet and innocent. As he pulled away his hand found its way to your cheek.

"We're hunters, our whole life is messy–I mean hell Sam and I are considered 'dangerous' to about everyone and everything." His gaze was soft, with something you couldn't understand shining beneath. It warmed you inside, a smile crept onto your face as he continued.

"What I'm trying to say is, you're perfect for us: for me, little lady. You fit right in like a puzzle piece, the piece we didn't know was missing, but are glad we've finally got it."

Your arms wrapped tight around him as sobs wracked through your body. And he just held you, a hand rubbing your back as he let you do your thing.

You finally belonged somewhere, a place where you could be you.

sunny yaps! HIII EVERYONEE!! Today has been a good day so HERE YOU ALL GOOO! I did not go to school so IM VERY HAPPY, BUT I STILL HAVE WORK TO DO! Kill MEE!!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas @h8aaz + pls lmk if u want to get added or removed!!

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[gallifreyan85]

Cup Runneth Over

pairing: mentor!Agatha x reader

summary: during your lessons, agatha likes to push. one day, she goes a bit too far.

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Agatha’s basement was chilly. Even in the summer the walls and floors stayed cold, and it was the slow beginning of winter now. You sometimes wondered if that was because stone needed time to absorb heat or because of some magical barrier that separated the room from the rest of the world. Your attention was pulled away to what was in front of you by Agatha’s displeased voice, snapping you back to reality.

“I said concentrate.” she said, her expression a mix of frowning frustration.

She was standing in front of you, expectant, looking more annoyed by the minute, and the two of you had been down there for at least an hour and a half.

“Go again.” she said, so you rose your hands and tried, really, you did-- but the magic just wasn’t listening. It crackled, you felt it shoot through you, briefly, and then poof- nothing. Agatha sighed. Her hands dropped to her sides as she circled you, and you could see she was growing impatient. You didn’t like disappointing her, but today things just weren’t going your way. No matter how much you tried.

“Okay, this clearly isn’t working.” she muttered, stopping abruptly in front of you, “What are you doing, hm? Where’s your mind at? You’re supposed to be concentrating—”

“I am—” you tried, but she just laughed.

“Oh, you are? If this is what you call concentration then I don’t want to know what it looks like when you’re distracted. Go again.”

“Agatha-”

“Again. Now.”

You shifted your feet, rose your hands, let them linger above the old tome in front of you, a single writing quill on top of the darkened covers. And it did not budge. You held your breath, tried again, focused on it--

Nothing. Not an inch of movement.

Agatha chuckled from beside you. It wasn’t happy, a sort of mocking, desperate, I-should-be-giving-up-on-you chuckle. It made your insides hurt a little. You kept your hands in front of you, still trying, trying--

Still nothing.

“If you can’t even move a single feather how do you think you’re going to break a real binding spell, hm?”

You sighed. But when you lowered your hands, Agatha tsked. You looked up.

“What?”

“What do you think you’re doing? We’re not done here. Let’s go, come on. Again.”

You almost groaned.

You were tired. Cold. Standing here for almost two hours, not feeling the tips of your fingers, trying to make a dammed feather move from being bound to a damn book. And she was right.

Of course she was. If you couldn’t do this then how on earth would you ever break yourself out of a spell if someone tried to bind you?

“I can’t do this.” you said finally, “I need a break.”

Agatha looked at you, her blue eyes narrowed. “A break?” she echoed, her voice raising an octave, “Oh, you want a break? You think your captors will give you one, hmm? You think they’ll be all nice to you and say ohh, pumpkin, here’s something warm for you to drink—” you felt a twinge of hurt at the nickname used mockingly, “here, rest for a moment, get some sleep then try again. No—”

You tried to interject but she went on, now talking heatedly.

“You won’t get a break if you’re in trouble, pet. You’ll only get more tired, more hurt, and the more you wait-- the more your chances of survival go down. Now suck it up and get back to it.”

You stared at her, unmoving for a moment.

She glanced away, back around the room, and added, lowly,

“And be grateful that I’m letting you practice on something as easy as this. A true lesson would be binding your hands together and watching you try to break yourself free.”

“This isn’t easy—”

“It’s not supposed to be easy! You think you can learn anything from me giving you pretty spells to practice on? No. You gotta do the real work.”

“But you just said it was—”

“Don’t talk back to me. Try again.”

“No—”

“Again. Now, pet. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You huffed, now feeling just as frustrated as she looked, and slowly rose your hands again. Your fingers trembled slightly, your breathing shallow. You concentrated. Tried. Thought. The magic was there, thrumming through your blood, you felt it move down your arms, through your wrists, your fingers, and then--

It stopped.

You closed your eyes. Lowered your hands. You could already hear Agatha talking to you in the background, briskly asking what you thought you were doing, that this was supposed to be a quick lesson, not two hours wasted of her time, of your time, and you tried to block out her voice, the reprimands, the constant flow of words that made you feel even worse but they just kept coming--

“Two hours—”

And coming.

“--the simplest spell, and you can’t even—”

And coming.

“Hopeless--”

“Stop,” you tried, your voice coming out quiet.

You weren’t even sure she’d heard you. She just kept talking at you, again and again, and--

“Agatha, just stop it—I need a moment--”

“You need to toughen up, dear. You think the world is gonna wait for you? Give you a moment to collect yourself? Well think again—”

“No, I just—”

“Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I’m even doing this.”

And that was the bit broke you. Pushed you over the edge you'd been teetering on for the past half hour.

You stopped, let your hands fall back down, head bowed in defeat as you felt the first of your tears gather in your eyes. You’d been holding them back, not wanting to cry out of frustration, not wanting to give up, but it seemed you couldn’t anymore.

“Fine.” you made out, not liking the way your voice did an odd sort of wobble,

“T-then don’t. Find someone else to mentor. You’re r-right. I’m hopeless.”

And you sat down, crumpled into the nearest chair, let your face fall into your hands, and cried.

Agatha stared.

For almost a minute there was silence, apart from the sound of your hitched breaths, uneven breathing and muffled sobs. You wondered, in the back of your mind, if you had this coming. You hadn’t been doing as well as you usually did in the past few weeks. Maybe it was the stress, or the outside cold, or the onslaught of foreign words and symbols and objects and spells that the two of you had stared to cover, but it had finally gotten to you. Half of you was expecting her to straight up leave when you started crying-- you could already hear her practiced grumbling in your head as she made her way upstairs, but surprisingly, that didn’t happen.

If you’d been looking up you would have seen the barrage of emotions that crossed her face when you first sat down, the confusion, the reluctance, the surprise. She sighed softly, letting her shoulders slump. Most of her anger dissipated at the first sign of your tears, and she was starting to feel bad.

Her. Feeling guilty.

She didn’t like that.

She hated that.

But somehow, begrudgingly, she hated the image of seeing you so sad, crying into your hands, more. She frowned.

“Stop crying.”

You of course, did not.

She groaned internally. “You can’t get all weepy every time someone raises their voice at you.”

Nothing. Just more quiet sniffles from you and the occasional whimper.

She didn’t know how to approach. She wasn’t good at this, the comforting, the coddling. But she didn’t want to be like her mother--Her hand gingerly settled onto your shoulder.

She sighed.

Long.

Like this was painful for her.

“Pet…”

You didn’t look up. Didn’t show any indication that you’d even heard her, so she tried again, a little softer this time.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry. I didn’t—” she paused. Cursed herself for a moment. “I didn’t mean that. You… you aren’t hopeless.”

You gave a sort of strangled sob in response.

Sighing, she kneeled down in front of you—kneeled, and gently tilted your head up, pulling your hands away from your face. Her heart twisted at the sight of your tear-streaked face, your watery eyes.

“Oh, hun…” she whispered. “Look at me. You aren’t hopeless. You think I’d let you stick around if you were? Waste my time on you if I thought you couldn’t do it?”

“M’ stupid.” the words left you before you could stop them. Something in her burned.

Agatha’s eyes darkened, her tone serious.

“No. Don’t let me hear you say that again. Ever. You are not stupid.”

You sniffled. “But I keep doing it wrong.”

Agatha stayed quiet.

Gods help her, she really wasn’t good at this. What does one say to a crying student? But you weren’t just that. Of course not.

“Listen, hun…. You’re… You just need some more practice, okay?”

You gave a reluctant nod.

“And I wasn’t trying to make you cry, darling, I just want- I need you to know that in the real world, it’s not like this. When someone attacks you they don’t give you time to breathe. You need to keep that in mind.”

Another sniffle. “I k-know. I just don’t think I can… not right now. I’m sorry.” you mumbled tentatively. Agatha studied you for a moment. She looked into your eyes, trying to think of a way to make you feel better without completely ruining her reputation. You somehow always managed to make her say or do something ridiculously soft.

She sighed. Softer this time. Not in anger, but resignation.

“Come on.” she said, aiming to get up.

She offered you her hand, and you stared at it, unsure.

“I’m trying to be nice here, pet. Don’t make me use magic to get you upstairs.”

“You’re not…mad at me?”

She chuckled, a half scoff.

“Mad? I’m frustrated maybe, that you keep forcing me act all-- feely-- but no, I’m not mad.”

And before she could stand up you took her hand.

But you didn’t get up.

You slid off the chair and onto the floor with her, pressing you face into her shoulder and holding on tight. She stilled.

“Great. And now you’re—” her voice was gruff but she didn’t push you away. “I don’t do hugs.”

You clung on tighter.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it right.” You mumbled.

Her hand, previously above you, hovering uncertainly, settled onto the small of your back. And in contrast to her words her touch was soft. Gentle. Like a mother’s warm embrace. You melted into it. Closed your eyes. Let yourself relax.

She let herself slowly rub your back. “You know, pet…” she started softly, “Magic doesn’t just require power.”

You listened, feeling your tears slow, your soft sobs turning into quiet sniffles.

“Real magic, one that works the way you want it to, it requires knowledge. Training. Understanding what you’re doing. And you… you have potential.”

You stilled at that. She thought that? That you--

“I do?” you murmured, and she angled her head down a little, a knowing smirk ghosting across her features.

“Oh, you think I just let anyone into my home, and teach them magic, hm?”

“I-- well no, but-”

“But nothing, darling. You have potential. I can feel it in you. It’s strong, powerful, simmering beneath the surface. What you need to do is learn to channel it. You have to be the one controlling it, not the other way round.”

You sniffled. Wiped your eyes. She glanced away, still holding you close, and murmured,

“You know, it took me years to figure out teleportation.”

You frowned a little. Looked up.

“Really?”

She laughed, a quiet, soft laugh, a hint of something resembling self-deprecation there.

“I know what you’re thinking, but yes. Even someone as amazing as me can struggle with magic. It’s not easy. If you’re doing it right it probably isn’t.”

“So how did you do it?”

“A lot of failed attempts and knocking into things. It wasn’t a fun time.”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips. She gently flicked your head, a scoff ready on her lips.

“Don’t laugh at me, pet. And if you tell anyone—”

“I know. I know. You’ll do something I won’t like.”

“Exactly.” she said back, but her voice held a hint of warmth that hadn’t been present before.

She adjusted her arms a little better around you, and you ducked your head.

“We’ll take a break, since it seems you need one.” she said, “But just ten minutes, you hear me? And then we’re going back at it again.”

Your heart sank a little. You didn’t want her to yell at you again.

“Agatha?”

“Yes?”

“Can you… be a bit nicer this time?”

She smirked. “What, this isn’t nice enough for you? Do you know what I’d be doing if you were someone else, pet? This would not be happening and they’d be looking for a new teacher.”

You looked down, but she tilted your head back up towards her, warm fingers gently touching your cheek.

“But not me.” you murmured.

You needed to hear it. Some reassurance, a rare thing from her, but still…

“No.” she said softly. “Not you. You’re… different.”

“Special?” you smiled faintly, hopeful.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but yes. Maybe. Just don’t think you can get used to this.” she said, “Got it?”

“Got it.”

She shot you a brief smile. “Good. Now about those pathetic attempts you called trying, that’s not the right way to cast a spell. It’s not the right way to cast anything.”

“Can you show me one more time?”

You were hesitant, but to your surprise she nodded quickly, and extended her hand.

“Give me your hand, dear.”

You did.

She took it lightly, guiding your movements gently, positioning your fingers in the right way.

“There. And now…” she leaned down to whisper in your ear, softly, quietly. “Focus. Feel it. Don’t think about your hands, think about the outcome. See it in your mind--”

Her hand, still on yours, guided your movements gently.

The feather moved the slightest bit.

You gasped in genuine excitement. Agatha rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get all giggly on me now, pet. Keep at it. C’mon.”

You focused. Pictured it floating away from the book covers, unbound, gliding through the air at your command. Maybe it was Agatha’s hand top of your own, or your thoughts going too fast, but--

It wasn’t as graceful as you’d imagined. It just flopped, rather violently to one side, and the tip of the quill dug itself into the wood of the table, pointing upwards like a tiny knife-- stuck.

Agatha tilted her head in consideration.

“Not very sophisticated,” she drawled, her hand leaving yours, “but it’s something.”

You exhaled, relieved, feeling a bit more hopeful now.

“Can we take that break now?” you smiled sheepishly.

Agatha rolled her eyes, but she was already on her feet, coat swishing and halfway to the stairs.

“Come, pet.” she said, disappearing out of view into the living room.

You followed. Hurried after her. Settled in the kitchen, and made yourself a cup of tea. She didn’t tell you anything else, nothing sweet or kind or hardly reassuring as her words could be, but you caught her watching you from the corner of her eye as she studied some book in the living room. So what if those supposed ten minutes turned into twenty, and you came back down with another mug of hot tea, and a plate of cookies?

She watched you in silence, that schooled aloofness back on her face, as you slid the plate towards her, a shy grin on your lips. She looked down at it. Back at you. Completely disinterested.

When your smile began to falter, she took one off the plate, but into it, and huffed, shaking her head.

“Don’t think this counts as a bribe, pet. I’m still gonna make you do it over again until you get it right.” But there was an unmistakable grin on her face that you simply couldn’t miss. You took another sip of your tea, shoved half a biscuit into your mouth, and stood up to try again.

A/n: Hellooo. Thank you for reading. This scene has been stuck in my mind for a long time and I just didn't have the will to write it out, finally did. For all you new followers (💜) I don't usually post fics this often but AAA has really jogged me back into the writing mood so I'm making the most out of it before my new semester starts, or, trying to. The title is from the song Cup Runneth Over by Kiki Rockwell. I just feel like all her music has this witchy vibe so I thought I'd use it. Also feel free to say if this is too long, I try to keep my fics between 1-3k words. Love y'all!! <3

[deerlysacred]

↬ cedar closets ⧼ young!dean winchester x witch fem!reader ⧽

𐂂 𝄢 { the day after your dad's funeral, someone knocks at your door... }

𖣂 𝄢 angsty, reader's dad was emotionally absent, reader has daddy issues, some insensitive dark jokes between dean and reader with the shock and the awkwardness of the situation. dean and reader are at least 18 years old.

♪ inspired by the song 'peter' by taylor swift.

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own supernatural or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

The warm water ran scalding hot, but you didn't flinch. It poured over your hands like punishment, reddening skin already raw from too much scrubbing, too much soap, too much cold in the middle of the freezing February, too much time spent trying to wash away thoughts that wouldn't rinse clean, now stuck to you like a birth mark. The sink was filled with cloudy water and bubbles, tiny remains of vegetables and meat flushing away, some of them sticking to your fingers, finishing the last of the dishes from the funeral luncheon yesterday. The gray daylight were lightening your palms where you were gripping the sponge too tightly. If you pressed any harder, you could have break the plate between your fingers.

You wished you would. At least that would break the sickening silence.

The funeral ended yesterday, but the house still smelled like wilted flowers and too-sweet perfume scent lingering from the guests. The whole place smelled and looked like a hospital basically, soulless and unsettling. It felt like a hospital room too. You looked at the pale white lilies that sat on the kitchen counter, their scent thick enough to choke on. You didn't remember who brought them. You didn't remember much about the service, actually— just the tightness in your throat, the ache in your chest (that still lingered), the weight of eyes on you, and the priest's hollow words, the words you were pretty sure he recycled from the last funeral he went to.

"Good man. Brave. Family meant everything to him."

Family.

Your grip tightened around the chipped plate in your hands, and for a moment, you thought about hurling it against the wall just to hear something shatter. But you didn't. You never do, actually. Instead, you scrubbed harder, scraping at the dried remnants of some casserole an aunt or cousin left behind, making the cracks on your knuckles bleed ever so slightly.

He was a good man. And that was the worst part, right? He meant well. Loved you, in his own way. But love doesn't hold much meaning when it mostly involves never-kept-promises and just a kiss on the forehead, does it?

"We'll go fishing this summer, kid. Just you and me." Never happened. "I'll be there for your graduation this time." Missed it again. "I love you more than anything, sweetheart." Maybe true, but love was a quiet thing with him, stretched thin like old elastic— ready to snap if you pulled too hard.

The plate slipped from your numb fingers and hit the floor with a sharp crack. You flinched, your heart thudding like you've been caught doing something wrong. But there was no one here to notice. No one ever really was, was there?

Well, Dad. Guess I learned how to clean up the messes all by myself.

You dropped the shards into the trash and turned back to the sink. There was still a little more dishes.

You were just about to open the faucet back when the sudden knock knock knock at the door made you jump. Your heart stuttered, you weren't expecting anyone. Your family knew you'd come by later, it couldn't be any of the relatives since they were all at your aunt's house right now. Your mom had nearly collapsed this morning, grief catching up to her all at once, and all of the relatives took her with them to your aunt's house. You had stayed there too until your mother was stable, then slipped back home with the excuse of tidying up. But really, you just needed the quiet.

You eventually moved towards the front door, Dear God, please— don't let it be another person coming to say how sorry they are. You hesitated just long enough for another knock to come, firmer this time. You pulled it open, and the first thing you saw was a brown leather jacket.

Then green eyes.

Then flowers?

Your brain took an extra second to catch up, cataloging the details— the boy in front of you had a little dishevelled yet charmingly styled dirty blond hair, his jawline was sharp, the brown leather jacket on him (though it looked a little oversized) suited him, there were freckles dusting under his eyes and on his nose, he held himself there like he wasn't used to standing still for too long. He was around your age, maybe a little older, and something about his face was… guarded. Like he wasn't sure how to do this either.

"Uh, hey. Y/N, I suppose?" His voice came rough, then he cleared his throat, shifting on his boots. "I'm Dean. My dad —John Winchester— he, uh, couldn't make it. Sent me instead. Hope that's alright."

Your fingers curled into the doorframe, grounding yourself against the swirl of emotions in your chest. Winchester. John Winchester. You knew the name. You'd heard your father say it before, in passing, in stories about hunts and after-hunt celebrations they drank and hung out. You knew about his sons, how John basically drags them all over the country trying to find the demon that killed his wife and the mother of Dean and Sam.

Your gaze flickered to the white roses he held, then back to him.

He was fidgeting now a little, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, like the silence between you was stretching a little too long for his liking, where it just became awkward at some point. His expression shifted to something more shy, something uncertain pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Oh God, say something.

Your throat felt tight when you finally spoke quietly. "I… um. Yeah. That's fine."

You cleared your throat, stepping back just enough to let him in. "You —uh, you can come in, if you want." Your voice was still quieter than you wanted it to be. You should sound normal. Like a person who knows how to talk to other people.

Dean hesitated, then stepped inside. He glanced around, taking in the neatness, the dim yellow glow of the lamps against the cold gray light from the window. He didn't say anything about the smell of lemon cleaner or the way everything looked like someone had been moving just to keep from thinking. But it was the nose thing you notice. He barely crossed the threshold before his face pinched, and he wiped at his nose with the side of his hand, trying to be subtle about it.

Oh my God. Did I actually clean so hard I fumigated the house?

Your cheeks heated up. You'd been too focused on cleaning non-stop to not think about your dad to realize the lemon cleaner was practically radiating off the walls. It was not just 'clean' in here; it was chemical warfare.

He held out the bouquet, a little stiffly. "Uh, these are for you. Or your mom. Or— y'know. Whoever needs 'em."

You blinked at the flowers, then up at him.

For a guy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, he was trying. Really trying.

Your fingers brushed against his when you took them, the touch brief, but enough to send a tiny jolt of awareness through you. You ignored it. Not the time, brain. Not the time.

"Thanks," you murmured, voice softer now. The weight of the moment pressed in again, the reminder of why he was here, why any of this was happening at all. You swallowed, hugging the bouquet against your chest for a second before nodding towards the living room. "You can, um. Sit in there. If you want. My mom's not home."

Dean hesitated again, then followed your lead, stepping carefully into the quiet space you had just been cleaning. And there it was again— that almost imperceptible twitch of his nose. He rubbed at it with the side of his hand, trying to be cool about it.

You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to shrink into yourself, embarassed. "Uh," you blurted, shifting the bouquet awkwardly in your arms. "Sorry if it smells like a citrus crime scene in here. Got a little… carried away earlier."

Dean snorted, the corner of his mouth tugging up like he hadn't meant to find that funny. "Yeah, I was startin' to wonder if someone died from lemon poisoning."

You blinked when you heard that. He froze, looking like he mentally slapped himself.

"Shit, I didn't mean—" he muttered, eyes widening like he wanted to take the words back and swallow them whole.

"No, no, it's fine." You cut him off quickly, you laughed weakly to not make it weird (which made it even weirder now that you actually laughed at his kinda dark joke), your voice cracking a little. "Accidentally making insensitive jokes at wrong times, happens to best of us. I actually even came to the brink of laughing during the funeral — not that any of it was funny… It just feels annoying and absurd when you see your cousins fighting for the last meatball on the plate while you try not to throw up thinking about your dad's death."

Well, that definitely didn't make it any weirder. Good job.

The (even darker) joke hung awkwardly for a second, both of you standing there like badly programmed NPCs who glitched mid-conversation. Dean nodded and tried to smile, shifting his weight.

"Right, still. Sorry."

You nodded, looking down at the roses— too perfect, too bright against the dull ache of the house. You moved towards the side table near the hallway, where an old ceramic pitcher sat empty, setting the bouquet down. "Umm… I'll just… put these here." you mumbled.

The silence crept back in, thick and suffocating. Dean settled awkwardly onto the couch, his fingers tapping against his knee. You could tell he wasn't sure what to do with himself, just sitting there with all the heavy silence pressing in, eyes flicking from the flowers to you and back again. The awkwardness made you fidget and stall a little.

"Okay," you said, this time too loud, too sudden. "Window. Gonna open a window. Before you suffocate and add another funeral to the roster."

Dean huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Appreciate that. Didn't really plan on goin' out via lemon-scented asphyxiation."

God, it's a contest for who makes more insensitive and unfunny jokes at this point.

You darted towards the nearest window, flipping the latch with more force than necessary. The cold air hit you like a sharp slap, slowly clearing out the smell. You cleared your throat as you turned to him, glancing down at your hands, then back at him. "Uh, do you want something? To drink, I mean. Water? Tea? Coffee?"

Dean perked up a little, nodding, he spoke with a gentle tpne. "Coffee'd be great, actually."

You nodded back and turned towards the near kitchen, grateful for the excuse to move. The whole situation felt surreal— this random boy sitting on your couch, his presence both unfamiliar yet strangely comforting in a way you couldn't quite place. Handling grown adults were fine, there was supposed to be a respectful and distant dynamic naturally. But people your age? And to top it all, a boy? That was a whole other deal, you hated this. You absolutely hated having to keep conversation while there was no one else, especially when you were grieving like now.

As you poured the coffee, you could hear him shifting on the couch, clearing his throat like he was gearing up to say something. "So, uh… you're a witch, huh?"

Your hands paused over the cups for half a second before you forced yourself to keep moving. Of course, he'd bring that up.

"Yeah," glancing at him over your shoulder. "My mom's the witch, my mom's bloodline. My dad wasn't."

Dean nodded slowly, like he was treading carefully. "Right. Gotcha." He hesitated, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not gonna lie, that's… kinda new for me. Usually, when I hear 'witch,' it's not in a good way."

You smirked a little, walking back to the living room and setting his cup down on the coffe table in front of him. "Well, I promise I didn't put any weird potions in it."

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, and the tension in the room lightened just a little. He took the coffee with a murmured thanks, blowing on it before taking a sip. Then, after a moment, he set it back down and cleared his throat again.

"You need help with anything?" he asked, glancing around the too-clean house.

You shook your head quickly, you said "No." quickly. Too quickly. Too defensive. Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. His green eyes sizing you up as he tilted his head like a confused puppy.

"C'mon, there’s gotta be something. I mean, you've been running around cleaning for so long, obviously. I'm sure there's lots of work to be done, I can't just sit here."

You hesitated, gripping your own cup a little tighter as you spoke quietly, admitting. "I… I was gonna sort through some of my dad's stuff. In the attic. But I can do it later."

Dean nodded, thoughtful. "Or, we could do it now. Y'know… together."

You bit your lip, looking down at the steam curling from your cup. You wanted to say no. You should've said no. But the idea of going up there alone, of shifting through your dad's things with nothing but silence around— it felt unbearable.

"…Okay," you finally said, barely above a whisper. "Yeah. Alright."

Dean stood up with a small, relaxed smile. "Lead the way."

You two climbed up carefully, the attic ladder creaked under your weight as you climbed up first, carefully pulling yourself onto the wooden floorboards. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of aged wood, the gray light was shining through a small window. Dean followed close behind, his boots thudding against the rickety steps.

"Woah, there's a lot of stuff here.” he muttered, brushing cobwebs off his sleeve as he straightened up. His eyes flicked around the attic, taking in the assortment of stacked boxes, old furniture covered in sheets, some closets and a few worn-out hunting tools shoved in the corners.

You hugged your arms around yourself, exhaling. "Yeah… My dad never threw anything away. Said everything had a memory attached to it. My mom hated this habit of his, lots of stuff and junk led to a mess naturally."

Dean laughed quietly. "Sounds like my dad, except replace 'memories' with 'potentially useful crap'. Old man still keeps a damn broken tape and unnecessary maps of the forests located at the other side of the world."

That pulled a small smile from you. Dean kicked at the dust on the floor, then turned his attention to the boxes. "So, what are we lookin' for? Just… anything?"

You nodded, kneeling beside one of the boxes. "My mom will eventually donate some of these stuff, I'm sure of it. I just want to go through around here, see what's worth keeping. At least, for me to keep for myself."

Dean crouched down beside you, resting his forearms on his knees. "Yeah. I get that."

You glanced at him, hesitating. "Did you ever keep anything of your mom's?"

Dean was quiet for a second before he shifted, lifting his right hand. You saw a silver ring on his ring finger, he rubbed the ring with his thumb.

"This was hers," he said, voice softer than usual. "My dad said she'd used to wear it all the time. When she… y'know… my dad kept it. Didn't let me have it for years. Guess he thought I was too young or somethin'. But I wanted it. Needed it. It was all I had of her."

You watched the way his thumb brushed over the ring's surface, like it was instinct— like it was second nature to hold onto it, to make sure it was still there.

You spoke softly. "That's nice, having something to keep with you."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It helps."

You swallowed hard, turning back to the boxes. You opened one, sifting through old books, worn-out leather wallets, and a few faded polaroids. But it wasn't until you reached into the bottom of another box that you felt something cool and metallic against your fingertips.

You pulled it out slowly, dusting off the grime to reveal an old, bronze necklace. The chain was simple, but the pendant—a small, circular sun shape with an engraved design— felt significant.

Dean leaned in, eyes narrowing. "That your dad's?"

You nodded, running your thumb over the pendant. "I think so. He never really wore jewelry, but I remember seeing this in old pictures. Probably from when he was younger."

Dean studied it for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You should keep it."

You hesitated, gripping the necklace a little tighter. "I don't know… it feels weird. Like it's not really mine."

Dean huffed, reaching out and plucking it from your hands before you could protest. "Well, it is yours now," he said simply, unclasping the chain. "C'mon, turn around."

You blinked up at him, your cheeks warming up. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Turn around."

You hesitated before turning your back to him. The air felt heavier, your skin prickling as his fingers brushed against the nape of your neck. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as he fastened the clasp. The cool weight of the pendant settled against your collarbone.

"There," he murmured, his voice close— too close that you could feel the warmth of his breath, it tingled your insides. "Looks good on you."

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm the attic felt. You turned back around, fingers instinctively tracing over the necklace.

"Thanks." you said quietly, smiling.

Dean shrugged like it was nothing, but there was a softness in his expression, something almost shy. "Yeah. Anytime. Uh… Shall we?" He pointed to a nearby closet. You nodded, keep searching without really knowing what you were looking for. You focused on the closet, pulling out an old leather jacket that still smelled faintly of your dad's cologne. The scent hit you like an old memory, catching you off guard, but you swallowed it down and carefully wore the jacket, deciding to keep it for yourself.

"Hey." Dean muttered, catching your attention.

You turned your head to see him pull a slightly crumpled piece of paper from a folder. The edges were yellowed with time, and there was a faint smudge of ink where someone —probably you— had pressed too hard with a pen. That was a child's drawing— your drawing.

It was shaky, the proportions all wrong in the way kids never quite get right. A stick-figure version of your dad stood tall, with big hands and a lopsided smile. Next to him, a smaller figure —your younger self— clutched onto his hand. Above, a huge sun and some cloud figures, a couple of trees and flowers were there too. Above the drawing, in messy, unsteady handwriting, were the words: 'Me and Daddy!!!' with some heart drawings.

Dean chuckled softly, looking at you. "This yours?"

Your heart ached. Your fingers moved before you could stop them, reaching out and taking the paper from his hands. Not in an unkind manner but sudden, instinctive.

Dean blinked, clearly catching the movement, but he didn't say anything at first. He just watched as you stared at the drawing, your grip careful but firm, like you weren't sure whether you wanted to protect it or crumple it up entirely. After a short minute, Dean spoke, voice softer than before. "Your dad must've been a real good father."

A sharp exhale left your lips. You swallowed, blinking a few times, but your throat still felt tight.

The words should've been easy to agree with. He was your dad. You should be able to nod and say yeah, he was great, and let the conversation move on.

"He tried," you murmured, voice unsteady. "He wasn't… bad or anything. He just— he was never really there. Not in the way that mattered."

You wet your lips, fingers tightening around the drawing as you kept speaking. "He loved me, I know that. But he was always… distant. Like, he'd be in the same room, but it was like he wasn't really there. Always thinking about something else. Work, hunts, whatever it was that kept him busy." Your voice wavered, but you pushed forward. "He sometimes showed up for things —birthdays, school stuff— but never in the way I needed him to. I could feel him not really wanting to be there, he would just want to get over with it and move on as soon as that event passed. He never showed effort in a way that felt… enough."

Dean's jaw tensed, his gaze flickering over your face. He nodded, almost to himself, like he understood that very well. "Yeah, I get that."

You looked up at him, your chest feeling tight. "You do?"

Dean let out a small breath, running a hand through his hair. "My dad, he… he was there, technically. Raised me and Sam. Taught me everything I know. But mostly, it was about hunting. Orders. What we had to do. Didn't get a whole lot of time for… y'know. Other stuff." He glanced at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. "Guess I always told myself that's just the way things had to be after mom's death. We could never have a normal life, I accepted that since I was a kid. That's just… how my dad was supposed to be. He was a man grieving. He was a guy who was angry all the time. A guy who didn't really see me unless it had somethin' to do with a hunt. I used to think if I did everything right— like listened to him, followed orders, never messed up, hunted a freakin' werewolf on my own— he'd actually look at me, y'know?"

You nodded, your grip on the drawing tightening. "Yeah, I know. I used to leave drawings on the fridge. Every time he came home, I thought —maybe this time, he'd look at them. Maybe this time, he'd say something about them. But he never did. Same thing with gifts, I never actually saw him use the cups I bought for him, or wear the clothes I chose for him. Hell, I even ditched school and didn't study for my grades just so he could scold me, even if that was a bad light he saw me in. He would say something, do something that would show he actually cared for me. "

You swallowed hard, staring down at the drawing, the drawing that the child in you reflecting and cheering the perfect dad she had. "At some point… I just stopped fighting for his attention, I stopped believing him."

Dean's brows furrowed slightly, his gaze sharpening. He didn't say anything, just let you keep talking.

"He always had these big promises," you murmured, voice cracking even more. "He'd say we'd go on a trip, or that he'd teach me how to do something— fix a car, go fishing, just… normal things. Things dads are supposed to do. And I believed him. Every time. Even when he forgot. Even when he didn't show up. But after a while, I just… stopped." you admitted, feeling something in your chest twist painfully, you were full of anger for that naive child in you, full of grief for her too. "Stopped believing it. Stopped waiting for him to keep his word. I didn't even ask anymore. I just knew— whatever he was doing was always going to be more important than me. There was always going to be a last-minute excuse, another 'I'll make up for it later' thrown into the broken promises jar. And now there's no way or time to make up for it, he's fucking dead. And I feel absolutely horrible complaining about this right now, I hate how I feel like I'm being a brat about his memory. Because at least he was there, I had my dad, showing me his effort or not. I had him, fuck, I miss him… Now it's too late, I can't even stay mad at him for not keeping his promises or not remembering things."

Dean's jaw ticked, and his hands flexed on his sides like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

You inhaled, pushing past the lump in your throat. "And when he did remember? When he actually showed up and acted like he cared?" You let out a small, humorless laugh. "I didn't even know how to react. It felt weird. Uncomfortable. Like— like he wasn't supposed to do that, y'know? I'd spent so long without it that when he actually tried to be affectionate, it just felt… wrong."

Dean finally spoke, his voice quiet. "Like a stranger tryin' to play house for a day."

You nodded slowly, putting the drawing away. "Yeah. Exactly like that."

A heavy silence stretched between you two, but it wasn't awkward this time. It was something else. Something real, something common you both felt.

Dean exhaled through his nose, looking down at his hands. "I, uh… I know the feeling. My dad, he—" He hesitated, then huffed a quiet laugh. "Man, I used to fight so hard for his attention. Always did what he wanted. Always tried to be what he needed me to be. Thought maybe if I did everything right, he'd—" Dean's jaw clenched for a second before he shook his head, clearly struggling to talk about his emotions. "Didn't work. Nothin' did. I stopped fighting for it too. Didn't mean I stopped wanting it, though."

Your chest ached at that.

Dean sighed, leaning back against one of the old trunks. "Guess we both know what it’s like to be second place."

You swallowed thickly, looking back down at the unstable lines, the little girl with the lopsided smile. You whispered, wiping the tears that you didn't realize have fallen. "Yeah, guess we do."

You weren't used to crying in front of people. You weren't used to people seeing you like this. And Dean— he was still sitting there, watching you with a worried expression, his brows slightly furrowed, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. His hands clenching like was turning something over in his head.

Then he seemed determined, like he finally decided. He took a step forward, slow and careful. He hesitated for a second— just a second, like he wasn't sure if he should, then he reached for you. Before you could even think, his arms were around you. The scent of leather and faded cologne curled around you as he pulled you in, his grip strong but not suffocating. One arm around your back, caressing your hair; the other around your shoulders, anchoring you to him. His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

He pulled you even closer if that was possible, like he could feel the way you slowly, finally let yourself melt into it. Relax in his hold, his arms.

"You're good," he muttered against your hair. "Just breathe."

You did. You didn't even realize you'd been holding it.

Your nose ached with the sudden sob you barely held back. "Promise?"

Dean patted your back, that gesture alone was enough to make you free that sob, letting him in. "Promise."

[forestofforever]

Things had been so great earlier, they'd been so playful towards each other... and now it was like there was a rift between them and they were both about to lose their balance, about to be swallowed by the space between them. Etienne couldn't just let that happen. It was silly, and perhaps a little inappropriate in the moment, but he needed to break the silence and he needed to distract Alura from the anxiety that hung around her, almost palpable in the air.

He grabbed her, once again carrying her bridal style. The motion was quick and effortless, and he held her against him just like he'd done the night prior. He didn't even say anything about it, not explaining himself or apologizing, no, he just carried her like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Funny story about roses. My parents were always madly in love, I swear, you could see my dad's eyes turn into little hearts whenever he looked at my mom... anyway, one time he ordered roses for Valentine's day, he thought he'd ordered a dozen... but nope, he had ordered a hundred and twenty roses! Now, my mom loved flowers, but they both agreed that a hundred and twenty roses were overdoing it just a little... They owned a theater, much like I do now, so it only seemed reasonable to quickly organize a show where they could use the roses to make some of the money back. Roses aren't cheap after all."

"They settled on Sleeping Beauty pretty quickly, the roses would work wonderfully for that... but they didn't have an actress to play the part of the princess. My mom, as lovely as she still looked at the time, considered herself too old, and the show was too sudden to get any of our other actresses to agree to it... so I had to play the princess. Granted, I was a very androgynous-looking child... I still get mistaken for a short-haired lesbian from time to time, but it's not that common anymore." He laughed softly. It had been a partial joke, it only really happened when people were very drunk, but it did still happen occasionally. "I was pretty quick at learning lines which was important because we had to do the show before the roses could wither. I'm surprised anyone showed up to it at all, if I'm being honest... My parents just stuck me in a dress and a wig and that worked well enough. And that's how I became a princess all because my dad bought too many roses."

It was a silly story, one he didn't tell very often since his parents were always a sensitive topic... but it seemed like a good moment to tell it now. To move Alura's thoughts away from the possible disaster that was to come. "I can still pull it off with the right makeup, I bet, as long as I don't talk anyway... ah, but you'd probably be a more convincing princess... and then I can be the prince that licks you awake." He winked teasingly at her before licking her cheek, doing his best to cheer her up.

She looked back at the mushroom as he tapped it, admiring the pretty pink color. Even though the situation wasn’t great- she knew she’d never get see anything like this again so she wanted to take it in. She wondered if the heart was on the other side of the rift when Etienne mentioned the name. The heart and the merchant were both on the same “side” and Alura practically hated the merchant. “I hope so.” She didn’t sound too confident. Alura didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help the intense feeling of desperation-she wanted things to be okay. The heart and the merchant were their only chance at potentially fixing this.

Glancing around, trying to make sure she remembered where they were at- not too far from his house. Her eyes landed on the blue rose- her anger slowly seeming to fade. “It’s beautiful..” blue was her favorite color. Alura admired it from afar, slowly making her way to stand closer next to Etienne. This was the right pace wasn’t it? Well if things went to utter shit tonight at least she got to see a blue rose and a pink mushroom right? At what cost..?

If Alura had seen his teeth, she wouldn’t cry- Alura never cried- but she’d definitely lose it. It wouldn’t be enough for her to abandon him- at this point- he’d have to tell her to leave for her to leave, she wouldn’t do it at her own volition. She’d watch Etienne crumble and wither before her if it meant he didn’t have to be alone- at the price of her own mental well being. If she saw his teeth she probably would’ve thrown up, or, fought the urge to and then she’d be worried about if he was in pain. The feeling of helplessness would eat away at her.

Her arms crossed almost as if she was hugging herself for comfort, giving him a nod. “Yeah.. let’s get out of here.” She hardly acknowledged what he said- she was carrying the weight of the world inside that tiny head of hers at the moment. Alura then began walking, heading back to his house. She wasn’t even all that hungry at the moment- she should be given she hadn’t eaten since the day before. Alura felt more nauseous than anything- life if you coughed too hard you’d know you’d throw up- or if you got the slightest whiff of something sour.

The silence that held the air between them was painful. Alura seemed to reek in distant anxiety but she didn’t say anything and had a rather plain expression on her face. A stranger would think she was just quiet and had a lot on her mind but if they paid closer attention- she was internally freaking out. At least she wasn’t screaming and breaking shit right? Silence almost seemed more threatening.

[goldfades]

Could we get something with crashout queen about her upbringing, family, and background? Specifically as to why she gets so fierce and stuff, I'm thinking more of your personal head cannons if that's okay , I'd love to get to understand her as a character better 😌

ohhh i love this question bc i’ve been thinking about her backstory for a while now. like, how do you become the wnba’s resident hothead with a courtside menace for a boyfriend? it had to start somewhere. so here’s my personal little headcanon deep dive on the crash out queen’s upbringing and why she’s that girl:

first of all—new york born and raised??? that already tells you everything you need to know. like, imagine growing up in a city where you have to fight for everything—space, attention, respect. and she learned early that you either speak up or you get drowned out.

she probably grew up in one of those neighborhoods where the park courts are sacred. like, you had to prove yourself to even get a run. those courts? they don’t care if you’re a kid. you miss a shot? you’re hearing about it. you call a soft foul? “play through it.” so she learned how to talk back. learned how to win.

she wasn’t just good—she was tough. elbows out on rebounds, chirping right back at the dudes who didn’t want to pass her the ball. like, i fully believe she earned her respect the hard way. no handouts. no special treatment. just work.

her family dynamic is also so key here.

i imagine her coming from a loud, passionate family. like, the type where love is shown through roasting each other at the dinner table but god help anyone outside the family who tries it. you know the vibe—we can joke about each other, but no one else can.

she’s got older siblings who never let her win at anything. like, her older brother/sister would block her shots, steal her snacks, talk trash during pickup games. and that’s where the fire started. because when you’re the youngest, you either stay quiet or you get louder. and she chose loud.

her parents? i see her having a mom who is no-nonsense but deeply supportive. like, the type of mom who worked two jobs but still found time to pull up to every game—sitting in the stands with a folding chair, yelling louder than the coach. and a dad who taught her the game but also taught her the attitude. “if you don’t believe you’re the best on that court, why should anyone else?”

the competitive edge? the fierceness?

oh, that comes from losing. not the pretty, motivational kind of losing—but the ugly kind. and she got injured in high school at a crucial moment. maybe there were coaches who told her she was “too emotional,” “too much,” “too aggressive.”

and she took that personally.

so by the time she hit college ball, she had something to prove. every bucket, every steal, every shove—it was all part of her making sure nobody ever doubted her again. and when she hit the wnba? oh, it was on.

and she didn’t get recruited the way she thought she would.

so, uconn. the dream.

growing up in new york, uconn was it. the gold standard. the dynasty. every little girl with a basketball dream wanted to play there, and she was no different.

she worked her whole life with uconn in the back of her mind. every early morning workout, every late-night shootaround, every pickup game in the park where she had to prove herself against dudes who doubted her—all of it was fueled by the idea that one day, she’d wear that uconn jersey.

she wasn’t just good—she was great. one of the best guards in the state. fast, aggressive, unrelenting. the type of player who could take over a game and talk her talk while doing it. but there was always this whisper around her:

“she’s too fiery.” “too emotional.” “great player, but does she know how to be coached?”

and that’s where it started to hurt. because deep down, she knew what they meant. they didn’t want someone who would argue with refs or stare down opponents. they wanted someone polished. someone who fit the mold.

and as the recruitment period came around, she waited. she waited for the call from uconn. from the coach she idolized. she kept thinking, any day now.

except it never came.

instead, she got the offer from duke. and duke? duke was… complicated.

they weren’t at their peak. the program was rebuilding. they weren’t a powerhouse like uconn. people whispered that going there would be a waste of her talent. that she should hold out for a bigger offer.

but the thing about her? she wasn’t afraid of a challenge.

she was hurt—deeply—by uconn’s silence. she’d given everything with the hope of that offer, and it stung that they didn’t believe in her the way she believed in herself.

but when duke came knocking, offering her the chance to lead something new, to be the face of a rebuild? she said yes without hesitation. because if there’s one thing about her—it’s that she doesn’t run from hard things.

and the second she committed to duke, the narrative started:

“she should’ve waited.” “she’s settling.” “she’ll never win a title there.”

ohhhh, and that fueled her.

her freshman year at duke? absolute chaos.

she came in with something to prove—to herself, to uconn, to everyone. she took over from day one. dropping 30 in her first college game, flexing at the camera, talking wild on the court. the media loved the drama of it all—this fiery freshman carrying a rebuilding team on her back.

and guess what?

they won the natty. freshman year. (in this universe ofc)

against all odds.

duke, led by the girl no one believed in, became national champions. and it wasn’t just a win—it was a statement.

and then uconn came calling.

suddenly, after she’d proven herself, after she’d done what they never thought she could—they wanted her.

the coach she admired growing up finally picked up the phone. “we think you’d be a great fit here. we’d love for you to consider transferring.”

it should have felt like validation. but it didn’t. it felt like a slap in the face.

because where was that call when she needed it most? when she was begging for that chance, working her ass off in high school, waiting for them to see her?

they didn’t believe in her until she forced them to.

and here’s the thing about her: she’s loyal.

she didn’t take the easy route. she built something at duke. she led that program to a title when nobody believed she could. and now that uconn finally saw her worth?

she said no.

no hesitation. no regrets.

“they didn’t want me when i was grinding. they don’t get me now that i’m shining.”

oh, and when she faced uconn the next season? she torched them. 35 points, waved at their bench after hitting a dagger three, blew a kiss to the crowd. postgame?

“yeah, that one was personal.”

iconic behavior.

but beneath all that fire? the rejection hurt. more than she let on.

because deep down, it was never just about basketball. it was about validation. about being seen. uconn ignoring her felt like the basketball world telling her she wasn’t “good enough” unless she toned it down, played the “right” way.

but instead of shrinking herself, she got louder. instead of changing, she leaned harder into who she was.

and this whole experience? it defined her career.

that’s why she’s fierce. that’s why she’s loyal. that’s why she rides for her people no matter what.

it’s why, when luka came along—chaotic, loud, unapologetic luka—she recognized that same fire. the same “i’m gonna prove you wrong” energy.

she didn’t need uconn’s validation in the end. she carved her own path.

her personality on the court vs. off the court is another layer.

like yeah, she’s fiery on the court—talks trash, gets techs, doesn’t back down. but off the court? she’s lowkey funny as hell. sarcastic, quick-witted, that classic new york humor. the kind of person who can roast you and have you laughing at the same time.

and honestly, that’s what drew luka in. like, everyone expects him to go for someone chill, but nah—he met someone who matched his energy, who wasn’t scared to check him. she’s the only one who could call him out for arguing with refs too much and then turn around and get ejected for her own argument three minutes later.

and the fierceness runs deeper than just competitiveness.

it’s comes back to loyalty. she grew up in a place where you ride for your people—no matter what. that’s why she and luka are so chaotic together. because she’s always going to stand up for her own, and luka? that’s her person.

like, imagine a press conference where someone tries to shade luka. reader just leans forward into the mic like, “you got something to say? say it directly.” and luka is sitting next to her, grinning like an idiot because he lives for this energy.

honestly, her upbringing explains everything.

growing up in new york taught her to be tough. her family taught her loyalty. the courts taught her grit. losing taught her hunger. and luka? well, luka taught her that someone could handle all of that fire—and match it with his own

[anarchy-and-piglins]

I had an EXCELLENT dream last night so of course I should turn it into an AU.

Vampires are not allowed to take their fledglings home. The law is very strict about this. Instead, vampire fledglings must stay in a Vampiric facility that is carefully controlled. This is done with the purpose of keeping the newly turned safe and unabused.

They are kept in locked rooms and only the sire and coven can enter. These rooms are NICE. There is anything a fledgling could ever want. But also, everything in there is on the coven's dime. The facility doesn't do anything except house the fledglings. All care is still left up to the sire and coven. It just provides some oversight.

Techno was supposed to be a meal, not a fledgling. Unlucky when he walked home from his job at a library, grabbed and chomped and left for dead. Except he didn't completely die. He was turned.

He hid this fact. Vampires and Humans lived very separate lives and he was comfortable where he was. He didn't want to live as a vampire he wanted to read books on the clock sometimes. As stubborn as he is, he can't exactly change his biology.

He had a pretty quiet job, so the sensitivity of his ears isn't a problem. What really starts being an issue is every other sense. His sense of smeel becomes stronger and he finds people wearing strong perfumes give him a headache. He is much more bothered by the way his clothes fit, the cheap fabric being more uncomfortable. And his vision! Its awful, sitting under florescent lights all day at his job. Luckily, his boss is chill and lets him wear sunglasses inside. He gets weird looks, but he can deal.

Phil is his favorite regular. The guy is always checking out a different hobby book. One week, its cook books. The next, its woodworking. Then, it macrame. The guy loves learning different skills.

Phil is also a vampire. Technoblade has known that for years, it's not a secret. But after the bite, Techno avoids Phil like the plague. He does not want to be found out.

Phil notices and is hurt that his friend is avoiding him. He tries to pin Techno down and ask him if there is something wrong. Techno is constantly running. Phil asks, a little disbelieving, if Techno was treating him like this because Phil is a vamp. Techno says yes and Phil opens his mouth to absolutely chew Techno out on that kind of thinking only to kind of stop and freeze. Maybe a fan blew Techno's scent toward him a la Twilight movie or something, but Phil finally smells that Techno is no longer human and should NOT be at his very human job.

Phil turns around and leaves without another word. Techno feels guilty that he had been so rude to Phil, but it's what he had to do. He finishes his shift, ignoring how uncomfortable he is.

He leaves the library while the sun is still up, but he never makes it home.

He wakes up and he can't quite remember what happened. He was walking, he thought he saw a car following him? He had brushed it off as paranoia, but then heard someone say his name from an alley and then-? It was blank.

Now he was in a room he had never seen before. Low lights, what looks like sound proofing on the walls. The large bed he was laying on was incredibly soft, some part of him feelinf RELIEVED by the comfort of it.

But most of him feeling absolutely thrown by being kidnapped.

There aren't any windows in the room and the one door that doesn't lead to a bathroom looks like something out of prison. Thick heavy metal. Knocking something against it just has this deep thud sound. No possibility of breaking.

Later, some official looking vampire comes in and talks to him. They ask Techno about his turn. What he remembers of the vamp that bit him. He doesn't remember much. He didn't see the vamp's face. They didn't speak. He couldn't even tell you how tall or what color hair they had. He tells them the when and where, but they just frown.

Official vamp leaves and ignores Techno's questions about when he can leave. Techno is left alone again.

More hours pass and Techno is torn between dozing and pacing the room. Finally, the door opens again and in walks Phil.

Phil tells Techno that the Facility would most likely not be able to find Techno's sire and that they had approved for Phil's coven to adopt him. Techno tells Phil that he doesn't have to do that, Techno is fine going back to his life. Phil tells him that that isn't possible. Fledglings HAVE to stay in the Facility. If Phil didn't adopt him, then he would just be assigned to someone else anyway. Vamp society never intentionally abandons fledglings. Honestly, if they ever did find the vamp that bit Techno, there would be some SERIOUS consequences.

Techno just wants to go back to his old life. Phil says it's not possible, which Techno KNOWS, but if he's stubborn enough, maybe he can WILL IT into being possible.

Phil is sympathetic and tries to comfort Techno on the change. Telling him some of the benefits of vampirism, once he fully develops. Tells him about his coven, Tommy and Wilbur, and how he would be seeing them soon. Techno is getting mopier and mopier.

Techno's stomach growls and he is embarrassed. Phil just laughs and says that they needed to establish a bond, which meant Techno needed to drink Phil's blood anyway.

Phil offers Techno his bleeding wrist and Technoblade just grimaces at it. Phil laughs and tells Techno he will get used to it.

Techno drinks and his mind completely jumps ship. Blood is delicious and his baby vampire mind is completely focused on that. He doesn't even notice when Phil bites Techno's wrist as well, sealing the bond.

The rest of the fic would be Techno going stir-crazy, unable to leave that single room. Wilbur and Tommy visiting, but they aren't allowed to stay as long as a sire would. Phil appearing as often as possible, offering Techno food, company, entertainment.

In the dream I had, there was some other force that wanted to steal Techno for their own fledgling, but the dream logic didn't make as much sense. However, there are a lot of vamps in this facility. If there was an enemy of Phil that wanted to try to hurt him, there is literally a little vamp behind a locked door to cause problems.

Anyway, that was my dream. Not dark SBI for once, just vamps!

Day two of clearing my inbox of these excellent Lenn AUs /j

This one is really good. I'm not going to lie, you had me going at the start thinking it'd be dark sbi anyway if Phil was a bit more uh, forceful about getting Techno into his coven. But then I very much like that it's not. Good old hurt/comfort hits excellently. And given a free choice, I bet Techno would still prefer Phil over anybody else.

And you just know that a double kidnapping is one of my favorite tropes lol.

[leonneon1422]

Ok but, what if there's a Kon Kent centric AU that goes like this??

Kon is sent by Luthor to seduce Tim, to get as much information about the Waynes as posible.

Maybe Luthor had been sending Kon to seduce people for some time now, which would make Kon kinda experienced at it by now.

As Kon would have been doing this for much time now, he would know how most people act in different situations, especially because the targets are mainly rich people(most of who should be in horny jail).

So Kon's mentally prepared for some degradating comments here and there, like comments about how he's lucky he's pretty with how "cutely dumb" he is, or maybe even some of those comments that rich assholes do when you're way too pretty so they *know* they can't make you dubout it, like: "you're so beautiful, baby. Don't ever let that change." Kon had learned that one's a clasic, they lower your self esteem so low that you fell like you don't deserve anything, which leads to you feeling extra special or flustred when they give you even the slightes bit of attention(he was teached this by Luthor before being sent to do it for the first time).

He's fully prepared to get those comments at least twice a day from Timothy Drake-Wayne, who is his current target.

Luthor had said: "The target is one of Gotham's playboys, and my son just so happends to be absolutely breath taking to the sigth." And he wasn't wrong, Tim was DOWN.

But it's Tim who we're talking about here, so of *course* he's not down in the way everyone else had been down before, Tim is somehow *actually* captivated by Conner's charm-AGAIN- Not in the expected way. First he though he would just toy around with Kon for some time, and then just forget about him, but in one of their "dates", Kon slipped up just a little from his "dumb and pretty boytoy" persona, and he was acctually himself by accident.

And Tim surprised himself being increadibly amused and actually kind of endeared by Kon's just newly discovered actual personality.

So Tim is down bad, and he asks Kon to be more relxed and not so "Oh, i'd do whatever you want me to" coded, because what Kon had veen doing had been the classic "Giggle-twirling his hair-just smiling and nodding-hand in bicep" combo that he always used with everyone, so Kon started being himself more but not as much, still cautious and being as charming as posible.

But Kon is slowly starting to fall for Tim too, because he was mentally prepared for a normal playboy kind of guy, but he was surprised with how gentle and caring Tim acctually was to him, so he strated falling for Tim, even when he keept reminding himself that Tim was just using that to get exactly IT, to get Kon to fall for him like a fool, and Kon was *not* gonna get fooled nor played with, he wasn't *that* stupid(also, he was the one who is supose to be fooling Tim in this, not the other way around!!).

So the whole trope is about Kon trying not to fall for Tim(which is already a failed case because he's already down BAD) while Tim is just really in love with this pretty guy.

All of this while Luthor keeps giving Conner a hard time and pressuring him to milk as much info out of Tim as possible.

Let's say that somehow, Luthor manages to poison Clark with something, could be both Clark and Jon, maybe ever Kara. And he uses this to manipule Kon, being Luthor the only one with the antidote(it would be better if it didn't reallycure them, but keept them alive, still weak, but alive, like some kind of medicine, so Conner needs to stay serving Luthor kind of like forever).

So it's going to be all the more painfull when Tim finds out, because we know he's gonna go FERAL, feeling betrayed and all that angsty stuff, because he trusted Kon, and he thinks that Kon just was a gold digger or something, when Kon just wants to protect his family.

So let's make Kon suffer, not because he deserves it, but because i simply like to make my fav characters suffer.

He's all stressed with everything, because his family is sick, and Luthor is pressuring him, and then it gets worst because Tim finds out and he decides to get revenge by not being gentle nor caring anymore.

So now he's stressed because Tim is always pissed and he's not the loving boy he was dating anymore, and Luthor might be pressuring even more, all of this while his family is still sick.

So yeah, have yall ever think of this?? :)

[ejudollz]

hello hellooo its my turn to send you an ask hehe literally before i decided to revamp my blog i was already following and reading your posts and every single one of them makes me wanna pull my hair out because HELLO????? do i wanna ruin or do i wanna get ruined....!!! also thank you so much for enjoying my posts as well i really really appreciate that i literally never expected it at all....

but anyway continuing our conversation, sub!&team and self edging!!!!! could be whilst they're fucking you, or masturbating (while on tour 😁), the possibilities are endless :" would love to hear your thoughts on this hehe

hiiii!!! im sure u don't remember sending this ask im sorry i took so long 😭 i hope it was worth the wait and i hope you enjoy <3!!! also still enjoying ur posts and thank u for enjoying mine 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ hehe.. anyways let's get into it!!

yudai

self pleasure is one of the best ways to connect with yourself and to treat yourself. yudai values time alone, he values the connection he creates with himself. he enjoys exploring his body and spending time feeling himself all over. masturbation is the best way to do this, you learn what you like and enjoy it while you figure it out. yudai loves to edge himself, he loves to elongate his play time. he'd bring himself right to the edge of release, his legs tensing up and he feels the sensitivity creep up his length right before he let's go. he'd sigh out, breathing heavily as he feels his orgasm slip away. it's satisfying, his self restraint is something he's proud of. he could so easily make himself cum but he won't.. he wants to do well.. he wants to beat his own personal goal. 

fuma

self edging involves having restraint and that's one thing that fuma has. if you asked him to edge himself until you're with him again he would do it with no questions asked. he enjoys edging himself just for the fun of it. he wants to test himself, see how long he can hold it, see how sensitive he can make himself. he would even give you little updates about how it's going. sub fuma takes it very seriously when you ask him to edge until you can come play with him. he'd want to do so well for you, whining and tensing as he films himself for an update for you. he'd sound so pretty like this, never holding back his whines. his voice would go raspy from how much he grunts and whines during this process. it's gotten to the point where he's training himself to last, almost playing a game with himself. no matter how many times he edges himself he would still get so frustrated. he'd be so winded and exhausted but he doesn't want to give up yet <3

nicho

he likes to edge for you without you even asking him to. i think nicho would love to play around with intense sensations so getting himself so close to the edge before sex even starts is so perfect for this. he would get himself crazy riled up and so close to the edge before you've even started doing anything. he wants the challenge of trying not to instantly cum when you touch him slightly. he's so on edge that it feels like the moment you touch his skin literally anywhere on his body he's gonna cum. your touches would be like fire on his skin. his cock would already be so red and his mind would already be mush.. he'd be so fun to play with like this. he can barely think straight when you ask him simple things. 

euijoo

euijoo is full of surprises on a regular basis but i feel like he would be full of even more sexually. he would always pop out in the moment with new ideas that would drive you crazy. you'd be dragging yourself up and down his length, he'd be getting so so close to his orgasm. you hadn't thought about edging him before, not yet at least. he'd suddenly stop you, sucking him a breath and gently pressing his thighs together. he'd ask you not to make him cum and he'd slowly feel his orgasm slipping away. he'd produce a noise you'd never heard from him before and you'd watch his face twist in all kinds of ways. he'd want to try this a few times, he wants to see how hard he cums at the end of this. he'd keep telling you when to stop, when he's about to cum, and how close he is. he'd edge himself through your hand and would cum mind-numbingly hard after. 

yuma

yuma in a way loves to torture himself.. he knows what his limits are yet he always wants to push them. when you edge him or play with him he always reaches a point where he feels like if he doesn't cum now he's gonna explode and die. he would wanna push that limit so badly. he'd put aside time for it, wouldn't stop when he feels himself losing control. he wants to be able to show off for you next time, wants you to see him go past his usual limit. by this point his body would be reacting so much to each time he edges. his stomach would tense so hard it feels like he did an ab workout. he'd shut his eyes so tightly and would hold his breath, doing anything in his power to hold off his orgasm once again. 

jo

jo would discover edging by accident.. he'd be playing around with himself, just trying out new things, playing with new sensations. it would a thing where he's rutting against a pillow, trying so hard to get himself off but he'd lose his pace just as he's about to cum. usually he gets past this point and actually cums but not this time.. he'd feel his orgasm slowly dwindle away and it would be like something clicked in his mind. he'd like the slight feeling of despair that comes along with losing your high.. he'd try it a few times, noticing how sensitive he starts to get. i think he'd keep going until he feels physically weak. the orgasm he had that day had him wanting to be vocal in ways he never had before. it would become a habit for him and eventually would get decently good at edging himself.. when it's with a partner however.. i feel like he'd be back at square one. 

harua

harua loves to be a little princess for you when he's submissive. he doesn't want to have to do anything, he wants to relinquish all control and have you take care of him. when he acts up or when you think he needs a punishment, one of the best ways is to have him edge himself. he lacks the control to do so and he also doesn't like to do anything when he knows you could just do it for him. normally you'd edge him, normally you'd make him feel good so why should he do it!! he'd feel so vulnerable like this, you're watching him and guiding his every movement. he's touching himself yet he still has no control. he so badly wants to just make himself cum but he wouldn't dare.. not with you watching him like this. he has to ignore the ache in his arm and the throbbing of his desire, he has to be good for you. 

taki

any challenges you throw taki's way is a challenge he's ready to take on. he loses his mind the quickest when he's inside of you so when you give him the opportunity to show you how well he can last while inside of you he tries so eagerly. you'd allow him to control his own pace, choose when to stop, and choose when he's at his limit. normally you control all of these things for him so he would want to do just as well as he does when you're in control. you know it's hard for him to hold himself together, you know sometimes he gets himself off way too fast so it's fun seeing him consciously edge himself. he'd make you feel so good and would bring himself to the edge so many times just to be good for you. he'd be shaking slightly between your legs, his breathing becoming more and more shaky as well. he wants to show you how long he can hold off.. he would honestly want to go past the limit that you normally set for him. 

[omfals]

Ooooh, do not get me started on how much I love MD polyships.

Now, Luzi as a dynamic is pretty unstable. Even with Lizzy's nonchalant attitude, both her and Uzi are wildfires incarnate. But when that heat dies down? When the skies clear of smog? The quiet after disaster, that's what Doll is.

She's the unflintching cold confidence and reassurance that will catch Luzi when they come back down. Doll grounds them like no other.

Headcanons of these goodbers:

Uzi and Lizzy have a whole song and dance, and while Doll can and will usually fondly continue to let them squawk about, more than once is she forced to interrupt so they can actually get things done.

Doll's dad had a stash of "How-to-learn Russian" books, which Luzi got out of the woodworks so that they could speak to Doll in her prefered language. Imagine her suprise when her two favorite drones greeted her доброе утро in the morning. I can tell ya none of them left the bed till noon.

Like Lizzy, Doll feels guilty for her part in making Uzi a social outcast. Whereas Lizzy helps with Uzi's insecurities externally, Doll tackles her internal ones. She'll hold her hand reassuringly in crowds, glare and verbally (sometimes physically) lash at anyone who makes Uzi feel anything except that she is right where she belongs.

Dizzy started dating first years ago, and since Lizzy is a private drone (she already leaves too much of herself out in display as one of the popular drones) they only ever hold hands in public. So to everyone's suprise is how affectionate Doll is with Uzi when they got together.

Doll is making up for the years of being unable to show the world she loves Lizzy in the way she wants to with Uzi. And Uzi? Uzi preens under the attention.

Dollzi solver bonding, Doll finally being able to enjoy having awesome powers, teaching Uzi alll the tricks. If Doll grows wings then fluffy Uzi teaching Doll how to fly.

When Doll gets too into her own head Luzi gets loud and annoying to disract her. It works 97.9% of the time.

Lizzy loves the scary dog privilages that come with having the Russian Serial Killer and literal Robo-Satan/God as her gfs.

Uzi goes to air jail if she neglects her health during a project. Just, scoop, either to the bed (when Doll does it) or an impromptu day out (when Lizzy does it). This is all above board ofc, Uzi knows how she is when she's obsessed with a new gadget, and if she hated it she would've used the solver ages ago.

...It's nice to be held.

All of them have bad days, Dollzi more than Lizzie. When they do they make a nest/pillow fort/anything comfy and then cuddle till everyone feels better.

Luzi is there every step of the way when Doll finally removes her parents. It was a hard day for 'em.

My headcanon is that they create shrines of the dead drone's items and then let the body go back to the cycle of metal and fire. The trio worked together to make the shrines + the preservative measures via the Solver, and keep them in a secluded part of their home.

yall.... just give me some luzi headcanons i have a problem i beg-

[lottes-little-place]

Hey everyone🙂 Long personal post incoming!

I can't believe it has been over a year since I last made some custom content. I wanted to post something at the end of 2024 but it felt a little stupid to do a 2024 Tumblr Top 10 post without even having 10 posts in total (I think?), so I did not. I felt very burned out and just generally bad the whole of last year (which means worse than usual) and lost all interest in Sims because of the stress it gave me. It's still a little weird to make a post like this because technically I didn't go anywhere, I'm still lurking here a few days a week liking posts. I just didn't feel like interacting or doing anything Sims related.

I find it also very difficult to see everyone's beautiful lots and amazing custom content and feeling like my stuff or lots or anything I make will never be good enough or pretty enough and that made me lose interest in everything as well. My lots are simple boxes and I feel envious and sad because I want to have pretty houses for my sims as well. Every time I have a good idea for custom content it turns out to be to difficult, someone else does it better or I find my execution not good enough. It always looks so easy to see other people being succesful doesn't it? Why can't I build like that? Why are all my textures always blurrier? How do people even begin to understand how to make certain things? I'm always struggling so much to make simple recolors and I'm barely ever satisfied about the result.

I have learned a lot over the few years now but I still feel like a beginner. Every time I open SimPe I have to check every little thing again because I still make simple mistakes and don't even start about retexturing things in Photoshop process because I'm honestly just winging it. Every retexture costs me hours or even days of stress and uploading is just as stressful. What if I uploaded the wrong files? What if people look at it and think it's badly done? Couldn't I have done better? I see every little flaw and I know most people won't but it still stresses me out. I wish I could care less about things like that. I tried to avoid uploading in the evening because sometimes I couldn't sleep of the stress and the fear that something in the download was wrong.

I just wanted to get these things off my chest. Maybe some of you will read this and recognize themselves or maybe don't feel stupid if they don't understand retexturing things either because honestly it really is painstakingly difficult unless maybe you are a graphic designer or artisticly talented. Most people are just hobbyists and probably have as little understanding of this all as myself. At least that is what I try to tell myself to feel better about my stuff.

Thank you if you have read all of this and if you haven't that's okay too, we come here to relax and to shop custom content and that's okay.

Of course now I'm going to proofread this post because my anxiety will kill me if I make any spelling error and people see it. (I've changed SimPE to SimPe! How could I let this get through😤.)

To end in a happier note, I actually felt like making custom content this week and I actually finished it too so I will probably make a post and upload it tomorrow or later this week. (Spoiler; it's two book recolors for the Billy! I'm always too excited, I can't keep secrets😁)

[the-fyre-flie]

Some more Jor El Superman and Kal El Superboy au cuz I adore this au and I adore their characters that I've brainstormed

In this au, the Els lean much further into the fact that Kal is meant to be an immigrant to American and how that effects them.

When Jor got a job in Metropolis and started being called Jordan by his coworkers, he felt really strange about it. Part of him was worried he was abandoning his Kryptonian heritage, and it only got worse when the school asked if Kal had an 'American name' teachers could call him. Hearing his son be called Clark during pickup felt just... wrong.

Kal was an infant when they got to earth, and Jor has been trying so hard to make sure his son knows about their planet and history. He taught Kal Kryptonian as a first language, and thus, Kal was pretty delayed with English. For a while, the school was worried Kal might have some sort of developmental delay, but really, he was just a bilingual toddler who was learning how to speak, read, and write two languages at once.

I have a personal HC that Jor and Kal look nothing at all like small town white Americans, and personally, I think people might think they're Thai due to their appearance despite them both being aliens from outer space. I do think that in this au, Jor and Kal both experience various forms of racism and stereotyping from their coworkers and classmates, which is what pushes both of them to protect people who can't protect themselves.

Note, I'm not an immigrant, nor have I ever experienced any kind of racism. So please correct me on anything that may be wrong-! I don't mean any insult or harm by what I write!

[pnwander]

Camera Gear for the Low-Spoons Photographer

YOU DON'T HAVE TO TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, but I have rheumatoid arthritis, chronic vertigo, and a host of less-related autoimmune situationships that I've learned to work with and around over the years. When I first got my telephoto lens, holding the camera long enough to find and photograph owls would leave my hands swollen for hours. I do a lot better now.

A few notes: I'm leaving out my various lenses and filters and such, since those aren't directly related to coping with chronic pain. But if there's any interest, I can share those another time. + Nothing I recommend below is an affiliate link. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but this is just me sharing hopefully helpful things.

And: some of this stuff is expensive. I've been accumulating gear for many years. Prioritize what you need most for health and joy, and build out your kit as you go along, upgrading down the line if needed.

under the cut: PERSONAL GEAR, CAMERA GEAR, BONUS GEAR

✱ PERSONAL GEAR

Compression gloves. The MVP of hanging on to a camera without swelling/pain. I don't find that I need gloves with grips, but you might prefer it.

Photography gloves. But if you're going out in really serious winter weather, you'll want glove liners or compression gloves + fold-back mittens, instead.

Wrist wraps (over the top of the compression gloves works great). I guess mine are discontinued, but for what its worth, this is what I use.

Rechargeable hand warmers. Again, mine doesn't seem to exist anymore, but this looks like its successor. Get one for each pocket unless you have...

A heated vest

And this goes without saying, but find really good boots that don't bother your ankles. These are my go-to; YMMV. (Pair them with really good socks.)

✱ CAMERA GEAR

Panasonic Lumix GH7. Micro four-thirds cameras and their lenses are smaller and lighter than full frame mirrorless/DSLRs, which is better for my RA needs. It's also less expensive.

But, note that I started out (post-film) with the Canon M-series, a smaller, more affordable option which you can still buy used. Great for beginners. (I'm not sure what Canon replaced the M50s with.)

Camera strap. Personally, I like a cross-body setup. It doesn't bother my collar bones as much, and doesn't bother my neck at all. You can get cheaper ones than mine. I use it often enough that I wanted to be as comfortable as possible, and I want to be able to quickly switch between a strap and a tripod (otherwise I don't use my tripod enough). I've given away a lot of bad camera straps, so I chose to upgrade.

Camera bag. I won't link to mine (though I love it), because it was wildly self-indulgent and I don't want to suggest you have to buy something expensive to make it work! For daily use, I use a medium-sized sling bag because I change lenses often, and this lets me swap without setting all of my gear down on the ground.

Camera backpack. If I'm going further afield, I'll switch to a backpack for shoulder pain, but I don't love mine for how inaccessible my gear is. I do have to set everything down with this one. I've been reliably recommended this bag, but I'm still looking for something that will fit my camera with the telephoto lens mounted. I'll let you know what I find!

Travel backpack. My collar bones get swollen and tender pretty easily, so for hiking I'll slide a camera cube into a proper backpack. This isn't my exact bag, but I think it's what replaced mine; my cube came with my camera backpack, but here's the kind of thing I mean. My smaller lenses fit (with soft cases) into the side pockets for easy access; you could use carabiners, but I don't prefer how insecure that feels.

(If I'm hiking, I've got walking sticks and knee compression sleeves, just for the record. In which case I tend not to also bring a tripod.)

Travel Tripod. Lightweight, super easy to use. Not heavy enough to withstand much wind, though.

Heavy Tripod. Harder to travel with, but worth it when conditions call for a more heavy-duty tripod, or one with a ball head (for better camera maneuverability). I keep mine in my coat closet for the owls. My travel tripod lives in the trunk of my car.

✱ BONUS GEAR: drones x accessibility

I really do recommend that if you have certain kinds of mobility or health issues, you consider getting a small drone (sUAV). I have a DJI Air 2S (which is being replaced by the 3S) which fits into a neat little pack for easy carrying. And to support this recommendation, a story:

For our honeymoon, my spouse and I roadtripped to the Spiral Jetty at the Great Salt Lake (en route to the 2017 solar eclipse). It was August. It was hot. And my joints were bent out of shape from coming down from a week in Tahoe, and I have history of seizures which can be triggered by heat, and as we walked further and further out I started feeling quite ill.

Since I did not want to have a Problem out there in the middle of nowhere, I walked back up to the parking lot and launched my small, quiet, unobtrusive DJI Spark from the tailgate of my car. I am one of those photographers who is very self-conscious about flying around people who may be bothered by it, which is why I'm clarifying small and quiet. There were very few people anyway, but at elevation, no one even knew it was there.

(The person in the center of the spiral is my spouse!)

Of course, if you're a National Parks nerd, you know that you can't fly in the parks. But, as with the Spiral Jetty, there are many beautiful places you can still go. And if you get out there and can't go very far, or you're just having a bad day, with a drone you still have options. And that means so much to me that my company is trying to form a nonprofit to help people like me get set up with non-commercial sUAVs. We'll see where that goes.

Don't worry, you don't have to hold the controller aloft like this. I was still setting up, didn't know I was being photographed.

These were taken a million years ago with an old, now-discontinued drone that only shot in JPG, because of how small it was. I've flown FPV drones since then, which does tend to trigger my vertigo, but I can see the incredible possibilities for being able to experience a place you can't physically get to, or only in limited ways -- because you could at least have these immersive goggles and a small aircraft to get you there. You know? It's not nothing. (But, of course, it's not for everyone.)

That's it! As always, feel free to drop a note in my ask box. And if anyone is interested in my editing gear, I can make a separate post for that, too. ✌

[maespri]

no hate to you op, and i'm not trying to rain on anybody's parade! but this really interested me and i wanted to talk about my own thoughts on it.

i feel like this sort of take on evamon and dieva respectively is obscuring your perception of both pairings a little bit. what makes eva an intriguing character is that we don't know whether or not anything she said was the truth, or a lie. as in... did she really trust damon, or did she just want to use him? did she just view him as a pawn to be tossed around? somebody to throw under the bus at the first signs of turmoil in the trial? framing him down to the very last second because, as eva herself says, 'everybody' was out to get her, and damon was no exception to that.

in eva's head, she was never going to be seen as the person she truly was, nor was she ever going to be appreciated for everything she could do. she became a classic example of learned helplessness. damon made attempts at tearing her walls down, which is especially clear in her FTE's, but you can never really see every facet of a person, especially not a person who has been lying to protect herself the entire time you've known her. additionally, damon only knew eva for a few days. that isn't to say that's not enough time to befriend someone, because, especially in a traumatizing situation like the killing game, it's more than enough time to place your trust in somebody else-- but not really enough to make a true, deep, connection with another person.

and after playing the first trial, i really do think it's safe to say that eva didn't view her alliance with damon the same way he did at all. the whiplash damon himself gets in the latter half of the trial, completely baffled as to why eva is suddenly going at him, is also a pretty strong indicator that the relationship the two had wasn't nearly as positive as it's initially made out to be, because eva, put quite simply, didn't trust damon as much as she claimed to. they were the underdogs, yes-- but eva viewed herself as inferior to even damon. eva believed she was completely alone. and that is exactly what led to her downfall.

the tragedy there lies not in the fact that they only had each other, nor in that they only trusted one another-- it lies in the fact that if eva had actually trusted damon, maybe she wouldn't have taken that traitor perk, and nobody would have needed to get hurt. the game juxtaposes the ways damon and eva handle their shared situation of being the targets of everyone's disdain-- damon with anger, but ultimately understanding and begrudging acceptance, and eva with deer-in-headlights fear and extreme paranoia-- to further drive home the point that eva is such a distrusting, manipulative-at-the-first-signs-of-trouble, person.

and on the topic of dieva, i want to say that statements like 'they hardly talked' and 'eva hated her' and 'wanted to punish diana' are not only rather harsh and surface-level, but also just... assumptions.

diana and eva shared a bedroom for days. it's fair to assume they interacted quite a bit whilst together. diana was the only person to stick up for eva and damon and cement herself as one of the people who supported them. diana expresses concern for eva to damon multiple times as well throughout daily life. additionally, eva didn't necessarily target diana simply because she "hated her" and "wanted to punish her"; put quite simply, diana was a really easy target. she's meek, wide-eyed and altruistic. in that regard, she's also a little too unquestioning and trusting of others, wanting to see the completely unfiltered good in them. it would be almost impossible for diana to defend herself under the right circumstances. and eva knew all of that and took advantage of it.

the things she says in the trial-- "it meant nothing," and "you deserved it," are difficult to interpret. eva seems completely defeated as she says it. she knows diana needs a reason, needs closure, and "you were an easy target" just doesn't come out with the same vitriol that eva had expressed toward everybody up to that point. maybe part of her meant it; maybe all of her meant it. i'd be a hypocrite to say that eva's lying there, because as i've expressed before, there are so many situations where it's impossible to know what was and wasn't a lie by eva. but i don't think it's out of left field to say that those statements could also be eva's weak defense in her own mind; she's asking herself why she did that to diana, and a baseless 'you deserved it' is just the easiest way to avoid a cognitive dissonance.

eva traumatized everybody by killing wolfgang. diana was arguably the most impacted, but damon is no exception to what happened. i'll be surprised if the betrayal eva did to him doesn't completely fracture what little amount of trust damon had left in the others.

if you're going to paint eva's actions toward diana in a light of hatred simply for the things she did and said, then you cannot also paint eva's actions toward damon as completely true and unfiltered. as i said before, eva is a liar. to what extent-- we don't know. but she lied to and manipulated both of them.

anyway, what i'm trying to say here is that i think both evamon and dieva are really beautiful relationships, platonic or not, because of the amount of nuance and mystery that they hold. what was and wasn't true? we don't know. eva is a complex character! and i love her for it.

i hope this doesn't come off as too defensive or mean, because like i said at the start, i'm really not trying to start anything! i just wanted to share my perspective on things. thank you for giving me a space to do so :3

🚨 Project: Eden’s Garden Spoilers!!! 🚨

I hope this doesn’t make anyone mad, but I don’t get why Kaimon and Dianeva are more popular than Evamon. I can’t understand how anyone could’ve played Chapter 1 and not seen the chemistry between Eva and Damon. They were the underdogs. They were the only ones each other trusted! They had SO much screen time. They were sooo silly and cute together, and Damon being like “a smile looks good on her”, like cmon bro pack it up, we all know you like her.

Now, with Kaimon I get why it’s popular. They also had screen time and suspicious/ funny scenes together. I don’t know if I’d say they’re in love, but I can see why people ship them.

It’s Dianeva that makes no sense to me. It just feels…forced. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good ‘enemies to lovers’ trope but I don’t think this is that. Eva and Diana hardly talked, and Eva HATED her. She literally traumatized her and tried to frame her for murder. As a punishment. Because she hated her so much. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that she hated everyone but Damon. I don’t see why everyone ships her and Diana, it just feels like the fandom wants to be able to ship two girls together, which is FINE, this is not coming from a place of homophobia as I, myself, am queer, but it just feels like such a odd pairing to me.

Anyways, I am in the trenches with Evamon on the daily. I love them SO fucking much. and it’s mildly upsetting that everything I see is Kaimon, and I just know it in my bones that there’s gonna be more Kaimon scenes in chapter 2 😭 I just hope they don’t entirely forget about Eva and Damon.

Damon BETTER have that damn feather.

🐦‍⬛❤️🐍