#then there might be a bit of an issue there

[prael]

Day 4: A Two-step Problem

Nmixx Sullyoon & Kiss of Life Belle x male reader smut

words: 9,667 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"She's coming here? This weekend? To this house?" The concoction of shock and confusion, topped with a little bit of annoyance, is in both Sullyoon's tone and expression. "This house!? This same exact house that I am sitting in!?"

Her outburst quickly settles into a sulk as she slouches in her dining chair. Her father turns to your mother for help that she doesn't offer. He's on his own with this one.

"Look," he starts gently. "She's my daughter too and I want to get to know her. I haven't seen her in years."

"You barely talk about her." Sullyoon counters, arms folded defensively across her chest. Her tone is laced with accusation. "I don't know anything about her."

Your mother shoots Sullyoon a glare, one that causes Sullyoon to step well over the line.

"Why are you okay with this? Another daughter that's not even yours coming into our home?"

You stare at your food, praying for the ordeal to be over.

"Stop being silly," your mother reprimands. "You are my daughter, and I'll treat Belle as my own too."

Sullyoon gives you a side-eye, and while she doesn't say anything else, you can see how desperate she is for you to take issue with it too. While you may not be as opposed as Sullyoon, you do have a reservation. "Where will she sleep?" You finally speak up, looking at your mother.

"Sullyoon, can she stay in your room?" she asks.

"No!" Sullyoon snaps. It's clear that she's still processing her frustration.

"It's fine." You turn to your mother. "She can take my room, I'll take the couch."

Sullyoon goes quiet for a moment, her mouth falling open in shock. She looks almost offended that you're not fighting by her side. Then she asks, "What's wrong with you?" and rolls her eyes when your answer comes in the form of an innocent shrug.

"Thank you," your stepfather says, shooting you an appreciative smile. Sullyoon's chair scrapes the floor as she stands up abruptly.

"I'm done." After a curt announcement of departure, she's already headed to her room.

Her father sighs. "Let her go," your mother advises. "She'll come around."

-

A few hours have passed since the revelation and you're in your room. Soft pillows beneath your lower back and slouched against the wall. The soft tones of music from the speaker across the room fill the air.

"Can you believe that shit?" Sullyoon curses the whole idea. "Belle, my long-lost sister, is coming to live here. What are we, some kind of 90s sitcom?"

"Can we not do this right now?" You respond, struggling to focus on both her and her words at one time.

"I thought you were on my side." She pauses for a moment and lets out a soft sigh. "You didn't even argue it."

"It's not that deep, Sullyoon," you grunt out the words, as her hot breath hits your face.

"Yeah well..." She falters. "...It is to me." You feel her fingers thread through your hair before finding a handful of the short strands at the base of your skull. You hiss, feeling her pull on them lightly, but you don't fight back. "Do you think she'll be annoying? And say loads of weird American things?"

"I don't care," you dismiss, putting your hand on her thigh and holding the flesh tight.

"Oh." She clears her throat and adjusts her position. "Well, I do care."

"You might get along." Your tone lacks commitment. It's almost impossible to focus with the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils. You bury your face into the crook of her neck. "You smell so good."

"I bet she thinks she's better than us."

"Sullyoon!" you snap. "For fuck sake!" You put your hand on her waist and lift her off your lap, letting her naked form fall lazily onto the bed beside you. "Conversation or sex, choose one."

"Hey!" She exclaims, annoyed about being pulled free from your cock.

Your irritation quickly fades away as you turn your head to look at her. Her dark hair spills out beneath her, messy, wavy and soft. Her smile is mischievous while her dark eyes sparkle with humour and intrigue. A million thoughts cross your mind but none of them can beat out the singular reminder that she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Her features are uniquely hers and yet, they seem perfectly matched to your taste.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about her then."

There is a shift in the energy of the room. She turns away from you, positioning herself on her knees and resting her cheek against the pillow below. There she lies in wait, ass on display for only you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you clamber behind her.

You reach out and wrap your hands around her hips, squeezing her flesh in between your fingertips. "Sullyoon." The syllables roll off your tongue. "Sometimes, things are hard." You press your cock, still coated in her slick juices, against her waiting cunt. "But you have to just take it."

You push into her pussy from behind. You watch the way the hole expands and stretches around you. The soft, pink walls give in to your intrusion. You hear the little gasp and moan that Sullyoon releases upon feeling you enter her again. You keep going until her round little ass is flush against your hips and the full length of your cock is buried inside her pussy.

From this angle, Sullyoon can do little more than submit. And so she does, allowing you to hold her by the hips, dragging her body back and forth until it moves in line with your rhythm.

"See?" you tease. "Feels better this way, doesn't it?"

"Fuck..." Sullyoon whines. "I hate when you do that."

"What?" You chuckle and spank her across the ass before grabbing a handful of her flesh once again. "When I talk down to you like that or when I make you feel like a little slut?"

"Yes." She squeezes her eyes shut. You listen to every pant and every moan. You feel her thighs shake and tremble against your skin. You know she loves this; there's no other reason why else she would allow you to take over her body and treat her this way. The two of you may bicker and argue and fight, but none of that matters when you're alone together in your bedroom, exploring one another. For all your arguments, you know there isn't another person in the world that feels as perfect wrapped in your arms.

As taboo as it may be.

She looks at you over her shoulder through misty brown eyes with pouted lips, looking all too delicious to touch. "Please," she begs in a small voice that sends a chill up your spine. "Harder. Faster."

"Good girl." The words flow seamlessly from your lips. You hold tighter onto her ass, for fear of the pleasure making her collapse against the bed. You start pounding into her from behind. Each slap of your hips connecting against her ass rings out against the silence of the room.

Sullyoon's hand grips the pillow beneath her head, squeezing it tight as her outlet for her building pleasure. It becomes too much, and she lets out a long moan. You're quick to lean in, take hold of her head and bury her face against the pillow.

"Quiet," you scold. You slide your fingers into her mouth and let them rest against her tongue. She welcomes you in, letting her lips seal around your digits. Her tongue runs laps across the tips of your fingers and the sensation causes an involuntary twitch of your hips.

"There we go," you coo. You can tell by the way she squeezes down on your length that she likes it when you praise her. She might try to play tough and cold, but you've learnt exactly what buttons to push to get her melting at your touch.

You can feel yourself edging closer, and so you reach down further. Sullyoon's clit is sensitive when you press your finger against it, judging by the way she bites down on your fingers. It takes only a few gentle rubs to bring her to the same point as you.

She whimpers softly against your fingers. You can almost feel the muffled cries vibrating against your skin as the knot of pleasure in her tummy begins to unravel. "That's it," you whisper. "Be a good sister and cum with me."

Sullyoon bucks and thrashes in pleasure. She reaches her orgasm at the same time as you and the two of you ride out the waves together. With each throb, you fill her up until she's practically overflowing. Finally, she collapses against the bed and you follow her shortly after. Her chest heaves against the bedsheets, tired and worn, and finally satisfied.

"You can't call me that," she complains, voice strained. "It's not cute, it's gross."

"And yet every time I do, you seem to cum harder," you respond simply. She rolls her eyes and scoffs, before shuffling into your embrace and resting her head against your chest. You both lay in silence, spent bodies wrapped up in each other's warmth. You absent-mindedly draw circles along her bare arm while she draws in deep breaths against your chest.

"I'm serious about this Belle thing." She breaks the quietude, her voice soft. You sigh heavily. "I don't want her here."

-

And yet, Saturday comes around just like clockwork.

The five of you sit awkwardly in the living room. A tray of drinks rests on the coffee table, untouched, and Sullyoon keeps shooting you pointed glares. The situation could be cut with a knife.

"It's such a long journey," Belle explains, talking fast and with a certain chirp in her voice. "We had to leave at five AM for the airport. It was still dark!"

"Oh my!" Your mother gushes. "So you must be tired." Sullyoon rolls her eyes hard.

"A little," Belle admits. "But I slept most of the flight so it's okay."

"Don't worry," you add politely. "It's a quiet area, you'll be able to sleep in tomorrow." She has only been here an hours but it's impossible to deny how charming Belle is. She's got a wide smile and sweet expressions—just a natural aura about her that makes her easy to speak to. It doesn't hurt that she's pretty, with large, dewy brown eyes, and soft hair resting on her shoulders. She wears a pair of jeans that hug her legs tightly and a top that's tied above her belly button.

She gives you this wide smile, that she's already given countless times, and thanks you, adding, "That sounds like heaven." Sullyoon's scoff catches everyone's attention. Four pairs of eyes fall on her and she squirms, hating the spotlight.

"Something wrong, dear?" your mom asks. Sullyoon shakes her head and reaches forward to grab her glass of lemonade. You can't help but let out a tiny laugh. Your mother shoots you both a suspicious glare but doesn't say anything.

You hadn't even noticed that Belle had been looking at you, but when you turn to meet her gaze you feel your stomach flip upside down. It could just be your overactive imagination but something in the look she's giving you has you flustered. Then she laughs too, albeit nervously. Your cheeks warm up and suddenly you have to look away.

"It's almost lunch, how about you help us in the kitchen, Sullyoon." Then your mother looks at you, "and you can show Belle where she'll be sleeping."

"Uh, sure," you reply, your words being met by Sullyoon shooting daggers with her eyes. Once your parents and your stepsister are out of sight, you gesture to Belle and she stands.

"The house is huge," she remarks, following you out of the room. "My old place was basically a box compared to this."

"Well, we live in the suburbs." You shrug. "I can show you around town later if you want." The two of you head up the staircase to where the bedrooms reside.

"You'd do that for me? Really?"

"Of course," you chuckle. Her giggles send goosebumps across your flesh. You pause for a moment and point down the hallway, "Mine is this way."

"This is so cool," Belle whispers. Really? A house is cool? "I always lived in this little studio apartment. My bed was right next to my kitchen."

Her casual remarks about her life, however mundane they are, are captivating. It's nice to meet someone so different from your usual friend group. "What was it like in the city?"

"Different from here," Belle responds. "It's loud all the time and the streets are busy, no matter the time or day." You push open the door to your bedroom and she follows in while she continues, "It was exciting but also way too much, you know? The parties were crazy—like movie-level crazy."

You gently nod as her thoughts trail off and she starts looking around the room. You watch as she takes it all in. Having made at least half an effort to clear some space for her, it looked kind of bare, compared to usual anyway. "Here," you offer, leading her over to your wardrobe. You slide open a couple of doors and explain, "This section is empty and you can hang your clothes up here."

"You didn't have to. I've lived out of my suitcase before when I travelled."

"No bother. You're a guest, make yourself comfortable." You gesture around the room. "I cleared the desk in case you need it and the sheets are fresh." (Which is good, after what you and Sullyoon had been doing the night before.)

"Thank you. This is already better than I could have ever hoped." When Belle smiles again, you feel a little flutter in your tummy. "Sorry about earlier," she adds. "Was your sister mad because of me?"

"She'll come around." You give a half-hearted assurance. Sullyoon's feelings aren't yours to share, but Belle does deserve some peace of mind. "Don't worry about her."

"I always wanted a sister, I hope she likes me." Belle nods gently, a faint expression of disappointment flashing across her face before fading back to neutral. She pauses and purses her lips together for a second. "And...you? Are you happy I'm here?"

"I've had to put up with one annoying step-sister for a long time, a second can't be much worse," you joke. A laugh leaves her lips and the tension dissolves instantly. The two of you stay silent for a few moments before you notice Belle starting to squint. "What's wrong?"

"It's really hot in here." She places her hand on her forehead as if checking her temperature. The thick beams of sunlight that are streaming in through the open curtains highlight her point. Sweat has started to gather on her neck and brow.

"Lemme fix that." You push open a window and draw a blind down. Belle waits patiently behind you as the bright morning sun vanishes into a muted grey. "There we go," you announce, turning around—and coming face-to-face with her. You freeze as if trapped by her intense gaze.

Her cheeks are flushed and her skin is hot. Beads of sweat shimmer in the sunlight. She stares at you, silently saying something that you can't quite decode. She smells sweet, like vanilla.

"Thanks." Her voice is soft, almost as delicate as the moment itself.

"You're welcome..." You say back, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"Uh, how about the rest of the house?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be showing me around?" She laughs and her soft tone breaks the tension. You shake the daze out of your mind and clear your throat.

"Of course. Let's go."

You point out the rest of the rooms, and then show her the bathroom, explaining, "My parents have their own so this is basically ours." As you head downstairs, you let her know, "Just try not to take the world's longest showers like Sullyoon." Belle laughs, which gives you the chance to admire how cute she looks when she's smiling.

-

It's been a low-key couple of days. Belle spent the whole time fawning over how cool it was to live out in the suburbs and subtly cursing how she had grown tired of the city—though half it felt like a sly brag. You had taken her into town the day before last, and while you're sure she would have been fine going back alone, she's asking you to take her.

Much to the annoyance of a certain someone.

"But Sunday is movie night," Sullyoon complains, lying on her bed. You're standing in the doorway, arms folded, telling her about your plan to accompany Belle.

"I'll be back in time and we can watch whatever movie you pick this week," you dismiss, already knowing she isn't going to listen to any attempt of yours to compromise. "Also, you could come with us."

"If I did come, then I would be hanging out with her, and I don't want to hang out with her." Sullyoon states blankly.

A quick glance to your side and you see Belle, standing in the hallway, hearing everything that Sullyoon is saying. There's a small pout that forms on her lips. A glimmer of sadness in her eyes. You feel a pang of sympathy. While Belle tries to smile as if it's nothing, you see right through the facade.

"Don't worry," she says. "I can go on my own." And with that, she heads off downstairs. You turn to your stepsister and shoot her a harsh glare.

"C'mon! Don't give me that look." Sullyoon pouts dramatically. "She's a big girl, she's used to being independent."

"Would it kill you to at least get to know her?"

"You're busy doing that for the both of us." She shoots an accusatory look. "Is one step-sister not enough?" Her words drip with insinuation, and you feel your face flush at what she's implying. You roll your eyes and curse at her, which makes her stand and walk towards you. Before she speaks, she pulls you by the arms and closes her door. "Oh come on! Admit it," she presses. "You think she's cute, huh?"

"So what?" You shrug and avert your gaze, cheeks red.

Sullyoon pauses, processing your answer. "Do you wanna fuck her?"

"Sullyoon!" You snap, feeling the blood rush to your head.

Her grin is devious, "You want her to replace me? Huh?" She teases. "Get a brand new stepsister who sucks your dick extra well?"

"You're sick."

"Oh, please. I've seen the way you two look at each other. Don't be surprised if she offers to top and tail with you tonight." Sullyoon smirks, "The couch must be so uncomfortable." Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

-

She said it was just going to be for essentials. A few shops to pick up items that didn't fit in her bags for the plane trip over. Yet, somehow, you find yourself browsing designer dresses for sale.

"It's my first weekend in a new country," she explains, pulling a silk purple dress free and pressing it up against her body. "Don't I deserve to treat myself?"

"I guess, but dresses like this? When are you planning on wearing them?"

"To dinners. To a club. On a date?" She cocks an eyebrow. "Who knows?"

"Wouldn't it be better to make the plans and then buy the dress?" You suggest with a laugh. Though you hate to admit it, the sleek material would look great on her.

"You hungry?" she asks. "How about dinner?"

"We should wait until we're home. Mum is expecting us both."

"Do you always do what you're told?" Belle pries.

"No...I—" You hesitate. She tilts her head to the side and flashes you a mischievous grin.

"Great. I'll get changed into this, we can dump the bags in the car and find a nice restaurant." She declares decisively. After rummaging around her bag for her wallet, she turns to face you. "Wish me luck, it's probably expensive."

"Wait—"

She's walking away before you can protest. You watch as she goes up to the woman running the place and pays for the dress. After that, Belle disappears behind a dressing screen. All the while, you're standing there, holding bags and looking confused.

There are a few silent moments. Ones where you try to formulate an excuse to turn her down; but just as quickly as they appear, the arguments vanish. In reality, the idea of a nice meal with Belle isn't exactly unappealing.

The curtain is drawn back, and she appears.

Wow.

It takes less than a second for your eyes to land on her waist. How the deep purple fabric hugs her figure so nicely, wrapping tight around her curves and squeezing her form. It's strapless and plunges into a v-neck that shows off so much skin. The hem stops mid-thigh and swishes with the movement of her hips.

"So? How do I look?"

You swallow, clearing a lump in your throat. "Incredible."

"That means you're paying for dinner then."

"Hey!" You start to protest. But it's no use, she's already laughing, slipping on a pair of white heels that pull the outfit together perfectly.

The restaurant she chose is tucked away from the main street. The soft yellow light glows through a window pane, casting a warm haze onto the sidewalk below. She holds your arm as she walks, using you for balance. The smell of her perfume hits you just as hard as her outfit does, sweet like vanilla.

"This place looks pretty fancy, right?" she asks with a cheeky smile. "You won't mind treating me, will you? After all, I have moved halfway around the world."

You roll your eyes and follow her in. A waiter welcomes you both, and seats you at a small booth in the corner of the dining room. A candle flickers in the centre, between glasses and cutlery. Belle scans the menu and occasionally takes sneaky glances across the table.

"So, how often do you take girls on dates?" she pries. "Not counting me."

"It's not that often, really."

"Then I must be special," she remarks playfully. "But don't worry, you're pretty cute too."

"Oh yeah?" You decide to play along. "Enough for a second date?"

"Hmm... maybe." The conversation is light and easy and just seems to flow naturally without needing any prompts or effort from either end.

Once you've ordered, Belle sips on a glass of wine, staring at you intently, her gaze unwavering, "I wish Sullyoon liked me as much as you do." Her statement catches you off-guard.

"I'm sorry for the way she's acting," you apologise. "She's probably fearing being replaced. She has always been a bit of a daddy's girl."

"I guess I can understand where she's coming from," Belle concedes, swirling the drink in her glass, watching as the crimson liquid swirls around gracefully. "I would be hesitant too. Change can suck sometimes, especially when it's unexpected." She takes a sip and then continues, "I was talking to my dad for a while, about coming over. And you know what he would talk to me about, every time?"

"Sullyoon."

Belle chuckles lightly and puts down her drink. "Yeah. He couldn't help himself. Always talking about the things she was doing. The friends she had. All those clubs she took part in. Made me so excited to meet her."

"Oh..." Now you understand.

"When I got here and realised that I wasn't gonna get a warm reception, it kinda hurt."

"Yeah. I know she can be...stubborn. Sometimes." You sigh. "Don't give up though, I know you'll get to know each other eventually."

She looks at you with hopeful eyes. "You really think so?"

"She warmed up to me eventually." You shrug and take a bite from your food.

"And how long did that take?" Belle asks, her tone playful once more.

"A couple of years."

She laughs again. "Ah, shit." She sits back in her seat, and then looks at you, intrigued. "What changed?"

"Maybe we realised we have stuff in common, or that we were more similar than we thought."

Belle tilts her head to the side, seemingly mulling over what you said. She purses her lips and squints her eyes like she's trying to connect invisible dots. She stabs at her pasta and silently returns to her food.

"What was that?" you ask.

"Nothing," she dismisses. "So, I heard you mentioning a movie night."

"Yeah," you reply. "It's kind of a tradition. We pick a shitty movie, order some pizza, and make fun of it."

"Guess I'm ruining that now?" she suggests.

"It's just one time, we've missed it before and I'm sure we'll miss it again."

"Maybe next week I can join you?"

You think about how movie nights usually end. Sullyoon, spread across a bed, with your head between her legs. You remember the feeling of her soft skin and warmth, the sound of her moans filling the air. And now that memory includes Belle sitting beside you both.

You choke on your drink slightly.

"Oh God." Belle gasps. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, drink just went to the wrong place is all." You cough. "Yeah, sure, you can join us."

Time passes so easily. The conversation is nice, and she's such an interesting woman. She talks about her life, the places she has been and the people she has known. And you reciprocate. By the time the check arrives, you feel like you've known each other for much longer than four days.

"You know, my dad talked about helping me find my own place. I can't keep your room forever," she admits as she's finishing up her last drink.

"That's fine, I can survive on the sofa."

Belle chuckles at that. "I feel bad for putting you out like this." Her fingers reach out to brush yours, lingering there momentarily before retracting. The contact sends a shiver up your spine. "How about we share the bed?"

"Excuse me?" you say in shock. She laughs again.

"Not in that way. I mean, we can put pillows between us or something. It wouldn't be weird, just two siblings sleeping in the same room." She pauses and chuckles. "Unless you snore."

"I don't!"

"Well, I guess we'll find out."

-

When you finally return home, the house is eerily quiet. Both your parents' cars are missing and Sullyoon has retired to her room. Belle carries her purchases while you follow close behind.

As you step onto the landing, Sullyoon's bedroom door opens. She's dressed in one of your shirts. The light that floods out highlights how long her legs are, with her toned thighs in full view. She stands and watches Belle walk into your shared bedroom, before turning her attention to you. "So?" She asks, arms folding.

"So, what?" you counter.

"You going to apologise for ruining my weekend?" she huffs, arms crossing defensively. Her pouty expression almost tempts you to bite back.

"You were invited."

Sullyoon scoffs. "Oh yeah. So that I could third-wheel. No thanks."

You pause and chew your bottom lip. "Did you get to watch the movie at least?"

"Yes, alone." Her frown intensifies. You try not to laugh at how adorable she looks. "Goodnight."

She stomps back into her room and closes the door behind herself. You bite back an amused smirk. Sullyoon has the tendency to be petty, but you never seem to realise how far she'll go until she does it. Still, you decide not to dwell on it, knowing that Sullyoon would rather ignore the problem than confront it directly. She'll forgive you when she decides to.

You round the corner into your room, bags in hand, and that's when you see her, pulling down the zipper that runs along her spine. The fabric falls in ripples and reveals her back. From the arch between her shoulders down to the dimples in her lower back, the milky skin is exposed. Your throat dries up instantly.

"How am I supposed to feel about you ogling me like that?" Belle jokes, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyes shimmer with intrigue.

"Sorry." You quickly spit and then turn around. She doesn't say anything but you hear her light steps over the carpet as she rounds you and closes the bedroom door.

"I was joking," she says while facing you. Her hair falls over her shoulders and ends right above the cup of her bra. She looks like a model straight out of the pages of some lingerie catalogue. You struggle to stay composed.

"So was I," you reply, pretending to be cool while you turn away again to set the bags down in the corner of the room. Belle laughs under her breath.

"I've gotten used to living alone. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put something on, but I'm used to sleeping in nothing but the covers." she offers. "But I don't mind, honestly."

The silence settles between you two and becomes deafening. You let out a nervous sigh. "It's okay," you finally state, grabbing shorts and a shirt and heading to the bathroom to change. "Just give me a moment." Once inside, you strip yourself of your clothes and run the water from the tap. You cup your hands together and fill them before splashing the cold water onto your face. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

This isn't a big deal. It doesn't have to be. You're going to be cool about the whole thing. You can handle having another gorgeous stepsister lying beside you in bed. It won't be hard at all.

You put your clothes on and march out of the bathroom. Belle has made herself comfortable in your bed, laying back against the pillow with her phone in hand. Her eyelids are half-open as she scrolls through social media apps lazily. The bedsheets cover her up to her shoulders.

"I've always slept on the left," she states absently, eyes still glued to her phone screen. You gulp. She pats the empty space beside her, invitingly. "That means you're on the right."

She turns off her phone as you enter the bed. As you slide under the covers, she turns and slides away to give you room. Your legs brush against hers by accident. Her smooth calves rub against yours and you freeze up. Then you feel her hand reaching out, touching your arm gently before drawing away again.

"Are you shy?" she asks with a tiny giggle.

"No," you lie, hoping that your cheeks aren't too flushed from embarrassment. The room goes pitch black when she flicks off the lamp. Only the distant glow of a street light shines through the curtains. Your eyes adjust and you make out her silhouette against the bedsheets.

"Just relax." Her voice echoes softly in the dark. She places her hand atop yours and squeezes firmly. She brushes her fingertips up along your forearm, stopping briefly near your elbow before trailing them back down again. Each stroke sends little shivers shooting up and down your spine. The effect of her touch is hypnotising; a powerful yet delicate combination of warmth and tenderness.

The movements continue for a while, in silence, as your eyes grow heavy.

"Sweet dreams," she whispers.

"Night Belle," you manage to mutter. Before you know it, you drift off to sleep.

-

At first, you don't even register the sensation, as if you are in a dream. First, it's the tickling of her hair in your face, followed by the feeling of her soft skin in your hand. Then it's the warmth, all along the front of your body. Belle is pressed against you tightly and your arm is around her. Holding her as the little spoon.

Your eyes flicker open.

You lay there in shock, unsure what to do, but also unwilling to move. The warmth radiates off of her, soothing every inch of you that she touches. Her breathing rises and falls slowly, as though she hasn't stirred yet. Her fragrance surrounds you, intoxicatingly sweet, leaving you lightheaded.

You try to adjust the arm that's trapped under her but she threatens to stir awake, mumbling unintelligibly against the pillow, as she shuffles around to get comfortable against you again. She moves her body against yours and presses harder.

Suddenly, you become very aware of exactly which parts of your bodies are making contact. Her ass grinds up against your crotch and the sensation causes a wave of heat to course throughout your entire core. Panic kicks in as you will your morning wood to retreat as quickly as possible. Yet no amount of willpower can stop the natural reaction to her plush butt cheeks.

You focus your attention elsewhere, trying to distract yourself by thinking of mundane tasks to pass the time—anything to prevent yourself from acknowledging your growing arousal. You count the speckles on the ceiling and list off ingredients of your favourite foods.

It doesn't work.

You have to get out. You start by pulling away your body, minimising the contact and creating separation. But then there's your arm, still stuck under her. Gently, ever so gently, you lift yourself away, trying to drag your limb free.

"Leaving already?" comes Belle's question. Her tone drips with mock offence.

"What? Uhhh.." you stutter. Shit. Not good.

Belle flips around to face you. In the morning glow, she's positively radiant. A beautiful angel bathed in warm sunlight. Her silky hair flows delicately as she turns. She flashes a devilish smile and says, "Look at that, our first night sharing a bed and you're already cuddling with me."

You're speechless. Blood rushes to your cheeks and you feel your heart beat faster in your chest.

"It was nice," she smiles. "Even if you were poking me in the ass."

Your jaw drops. Shame bubbles in the pit of your stomach and causes your skin to prickle. She laughs and pushes the sheets down to your waists. She's fucking topless. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of her breasts, perfect teardrops that hang deliciously against her chest, crowned by erect pink nipples. The sight sends you reeling into total disarray.

"You can't help it, I know." Her voice cuts through your dazed thoughts like a blade slicing through butter. "All guys wake up horny." She shuffles a little closer. "I can help it, though." Her hand snakes down beneath the sheet, into your shorts, and suddenly there's the unmistakable sensation of her fingers wrapped around your cock.

"Belle—" Her name leaves your throat weak and cracked. Heat envelops you and your brain goes into overdrive. No way is this real.

"Shhh," she whispers, leaning in until her lips are hovering close to yours. "I want to help," she says with a mischievous smirk.

She starts slowly stroking your dick. At first, it feels strange and foreign, but gradually melts into pleasure as the friction increases. Belle continues to stare, watching as the corners of your mouth twitch and twist, as if studying her own effect on you. Every time your breath hitches she seems to gain more confidence. She grips tighter and works her wrist faster, building up a steady rhythm.

"See, we can share this room." She keeps moving her hand up and down in perfect strokes, varying the pace every few seconds. Sometimes fast and firm, then slow and gentle. It's enough to drive anyone mad. "Isn't it great?"

"This is so messed up," you manage to groan out as your hips lift involuntarily.

"Is it?" She kisses the corner of your mouth. "Doesn't seem that bad to me."

She's right. It feels incredible. Despite everything, you don't want her to stop. You lean into her, desperate for her to kiss you, but instead, she pulls away, giggling softly. That only serves to frustrate you further, which seems to encourage her even more. She quickens her pace and leans closer to you again, stopping inches away from kissing distance once more.

Your eyes grow heavy again, but this time it's not sleep that overtakes you. Instead, it's bliss.

"Belle, what the fuck..." you whisper. Pleasure is burning hot in the base of your gut. Her wrist rolls as she jerks you off harder. "Why..."

She lets you go, hand slipping out of your shorts as quickly as it entered. "Here." She cups your hand in her own and pulls it towards her chest. "Feel free to touch." You know what happens when you allow temptation to guide your actions. Sullyoon is a case and point.

Despite that, you're unable to resist.

Her breast fits perfectly in your palm. So soft. Your fingers graze over the sensitive nipple. The moans that follow sound heavenly, even more so when accompanied by her coy smile. Without warning, her lips press against yours, sealing off any sort of protest. Her tongue dances across your bottom lip and into your mouth. Soft. Wet. Hot.

Heat pools between your legs. Her hand returns to its former place around your cock. She's so slow now, achingly deliberate. Your mind spins endlessly; overwhelmed by desire.

When you pull back, she gives a sly wink, "Tell me what you think, hm?"

"It feels so fucking good," you sigh. She responds with another kiss. The room fades to silence beyond your muffled moaning and wet kissing sounds. Time itself seems to grind to a halt.

"I knew you'd enjoy it," she murmurs into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before continuing, "Now...how about you return the favour?" Her words trail off as she lifts one of your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue twirls around it for a moment and then releases it with a wet pop.

"Sure," you mutter, too distracted to care about anything else. You slip your hand beneath the duvet and then push at her hip, turning her onto her back. You admire her upper body. From her chest to the curve of her hips, to the dip of her waist, she looks divine. Belle lies back and spreads her legs. And when your hand snakes between her thighs, she raises her arms above her head and grips the pillow tight.

"Fuck," she gasps as your fingertips run along her slit gently, enjoying how she bucks upwards to meet your digits.

"You're soaked," you marvel.

Belle grins wickedly and exhales slowly. "Mhm," she agrees. "And who's fault is that?"

"Me," you respond quickly.

You brush up and down her pussy with agonising slowness, revelling in how her slick fluids cling to your fingers, and coat them in their essence. After a few seconds of exploration, you circle her clit slowly with two fingertips. Her eyes snap shut instantly and she whimpers softly under her breath. It's mesmerising. She squirms wildly, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stifle her squeals of ecstasy.

Then she lets out this long drawn-out moan while she squeezes the pillow tight against the back of her head. "Fuck," she curses.

Your finger sinks inside of her effortlessly.

"T-that feels..." she whimpers between staggered breaths. You pump in and out of her, curling upwards against her walls every single time. Her hips sway to meet your thrusts, matching them perfectly. The sight drives you insane.

You withdraw your finger from her depths and circle it across her folds. Her legs tremble in anticipation.

"Please," she begs. Your cock throbs painfully.

She tilts her head backwards, baring the pale skin of her neck to you. An offering. One you take happily.

You press your lips against her soft flesh, savouring her taste. Her scent overwhelms you. You can feel her pulse thrumming frantically just beneath the surface of her skin. There's something intensely primal about being able to feel someone else's heartbeat racing against your own.

Your teeth clamp down on the area between her jaw and collarbone, holding her securely as you explore every inch of her sex with newfound fervour.

It isn't long until she writhes beneath you, panting heavily while clinging desperately to the bedsheets around her. Your movements grow faster, more frantic. Hungry even.

She threatens to get loud, and you know how bad that could be. There's a reason Sullyoon always comes into your room, it's the furthest from your parents, and even then you find yourself putting a palm over her mouth. Now it's just one thin wall. One thin wall separates Belle's moans from Sullyoon's ears.

So you shut her up the best way you know how.

She seems surprised when your mouth crashes against hers, silencing her squeals with your tongue, but the feeling is fleeting. Her arms wrap around the back of your neck, pulling her closer towards you. She tastes like strawberries and smells faintly of vanilla.

You absorb her moans into your mouth as she cums on your hand.

Her thighs tighten around you, locking your fingers deep within her core. She shudders violently as waves of pleasure wrack through her frame. Slowly but surely she relaxes again, letting out contented sighs mixed with tiny giggles of delight. When she opens her eyes again, her pupils are dilated and wide, shining brightly. She stares up at you dreamily. Her cheeks flushed red. Lips plump from kisses.

"Holy shit." Belle exhales hard before speaking again. Her voice still shakes with euphoria. "Good morning indeed."

"Yeah," you chuckle, rolling back to give her space.

"No," she stops you by placing a hand on your stomach. "We haven't finished."

"We haven't?"

"You haven't." She runs a hand down your body until it's back to how all this started. This time, she pushes your shorts clear of your hips and lets your erection spring free. She's climbing up and over you as she speaks, "Let me return the favour. We're family now."

Then she takes you into her mouth. Your thoughts blur together into a haze of lust and arousal, blinding your vision temporarily. Everything else fades away except for this girl who sucks your dick like she needs it to survive. Her tongue swirls around the crown of your tip teasingly while she bobs back and forth steadily. She hums around you, sending vibrations reverberating throughout your entire length, sending tingles shooting up and down your spine.

As her effort rises, so does she. Onto all fours and swinging a leg over yours. She's giving you this look—this hungry stare. You're hers now. Totally at her mercy. She keeps eye contact as she sucks you deeper than before. Then, without warning, her head lifts away from your cock completely, leaving behind a slick trail of spittle dripping down her chin. She wipes it away with her knuckles nonchalantly. Still wearing that predatory expression. Something about the action, the confidence of it, it makes you shiver.

She starts to stroke you, right before she dips her pretty face down to place her lips on your balls. Then it's her tongue, warm and wet against the sensitive skin. She alternates between tender kisses and loving licks all while staring up past your cock to meet your gaze. It's unbelievably hot.

"Don't cum yet," she whispers sweetly before returning her mouth around your length again.

"Can't promise anything," you groan back.

"Cute," she murmurs around your shaft.

Belle works you for a while. Those smokey eyes watch your every involuntary reaction while she worships your cock. Every twitch gets a quiet giggle. Every choked moan is met with a little lick across the tip.

It doesn't take long until the fire in your belly begins to spread.

"Belle," you strain, barely keeping a hold of your composure. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet," she says with a smirk. "Here."

She shifts ever so slightly again, pushing her chest towards her pumping hand. She presses your tip against the hard nipple and jerks you off, alternating between the stiff buds. All you can do is watch, totally transfixed by what's happening before you. Her movements grow quicker and more frantic. Until it becomes almost too much.

You let it out, right onto her pretty little tits. Thick ropes across her flawless skin, painting her while she smiles. Even after you've been spent, she keeps working your shaft until it becomes painful. Oversensitivity has never felt sweeter.

"Oh god." Belle looks down at the mess you've made on her chest. Her grin is devious. She slips off the bed, taking a spare towel from underneath it and wiping at her chest and your crotch. Once you're both clean, she tucks you back in and crawls onto your torso. With a small bounce, she nestles down and lays on top of you. Her chest presses against yours.

"So," she coos, resting her chin on your sternum. "That happened."

You laugh and she quickly joins you. There's a feeling of shared exhilaration hanging between you both. A giddiness that comes from knowing you have just crossed an invisible boundary together.

"That was so fucking hot." Belle brings her palm up to cradle the side of your head affectionately. Her thumb brushes small circles against your temple, tracing patterns along the outline of your cheekbones. After a few seconds, her smile starts to fade. "Do you hate me?"

"Why would I?" You ask sincerely.

"I don't know. You're my step-brother. And I just..."

Her tone makes your heart ache ever so slightly, causing you to reach out for her face and cup her cheek in your palm. "If you hadn't made a move, I would have anyway," you confess.

"You're as messed up as me, then."

She has no idea.

-

Towel and a change of clothes in hand, you start to open the bathroom door when you hear your name. Sullyoon's distinct voice. You hesitate, halfway through the threshold, and turn back to see her walking down the corridor. "So, what, you don't like me anymore?"

"What are you talking about?" You retort defensively.

She puts on this mocking voice. "'Yes Belle, I'll take you to town.' 'Yes Belle, I'll take you to dinner and stand up the sister I actually know.' You've known her for two minutes! Two!"

You feel shame rising inside your chest. It's a weird feeling that just trying to be a good brother (or a bad one) has driven some divide between you and Sullyoon. You try to explain, "She's flown to a whole new country. It's difficult. We have to welcome her. If I didn't have to do it alone then we could see each other more." You sigh, "She really wants to hang out with you, you know."

Sullyoon crosses her arms, looking smug, "Oh, I bet."

"She does," you insist, trying your best not to appear too frustrated with her. "She was excited about movie night and she wants to join us next week." To this, Sullyoon simply scoffs.

"Yeah, right."

There's a pause where neither of you knows what to say. Eventually, it is broken by your stepsister's words.

"Doesn't change the fact that you left me alone on our night." She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip sticking out adorably. You roll your eyes at her antics. Sometimes, her stubbornness can border upon childishness.

"Sullyoon," you say flatly. "Come on. That's not fair."

She shrugs dismissively, clearly unconvinced. "What's not fair is that we haven't done it in almost a week."

You drop your towel and clothes on the bathroom floor and step out quickly towards her. You quickly hold your palm against her plump lips to silence her. "Not so loud."

She grabs your wrist, pulling her mouth free. "Our parents are out, calm down." But then she uses the leverage to yank you forward, right into her arms. "Maybe you should make it up to me."

"Sullyoon." You chastise. Boundaries exist for a reason, and doing this out here in the hallway is not what you agreed. You pry her away and walk back into the bathroom.

She follows each step, and as soon as you turn back to close the door, she's already slipping through and closing it herself. Before you have a chance to protest, Sullyoon's hands grab your face and bring you into a fierce kiss. She wastes no time sliding her tongue between your lips, demanding entry. You resist for only half a second before giving in fully, allowing yourself to become consumed by her passionate embrace. Her fingers grasp tufts of your hair tightly, tugging at the strands gently enough that it sends pleasant shivers running down your spine instead of hurting.

"The hell are you doing?" You eventually ask when she breaks away from your mouth, albeit reluctantly.

"Making up for lost time," she whispers as she slips down to her knees, grabbing the sides of your shorts.

You panic. "Hey, hey—" you exclaim as you stop her. She looks at you confused as to why you aren't happy with getting blown. She furrows her brows and then forcefully tugs them down. Your soft cock springs free, hanging mere inches from her waiting lips. Sullyoon licks them in anticipation while keeping her eyes trained solely upon yours.

But that's when she notices something.

There's a brief moment where the two of you lock gazes; where there should be nothing but lust swimming amidst those hazel irises, there is concern. She inhales sharply, catching a scent which throws her into alert mode. You can practically see the gears turning within her brain.

She stands up immediately, stares you dead in the eyes and says, "What the fuck is that?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, dumbass. You smell like sex and there's lipstick on your cock."

Shit.

"Belle!" Sullyoon calls as she marches back down the hall, bursting into your bedroom. You almost stumble over your shorts and rush to pull them back up to your waist. You dash behind her, terrified at what will happen next.

You round the corner into your room and Sullyoon is standing at the foot of your bed. Belle has her phone in hand, still lying in bed, with the covers up to her chest.

"Slut!" Sullyoon snaps.

"Excuse me?" Belle sits up straight, clutching the duvet to cover herself up properly, glaring back at your sister angrily.

"You heard me. Stay the fuck away from him. He's mine. My brother."

You wince in the silence. Belle just stares at the furious Sullyoon while the gears turn in her mind. Glancing back and forth between the two of you, she's clearly piecing it together. She smirks and then chuckles. "Oh my god! You're fucking him!"

"That's none of your business." Sullyoon retorts sharply.

"Now it all makes sense," she says while pointing her finger and waggling it between you and Sullyoon. "Do I threaten you?"

"No." Sullyoon lies, rather poorly.

"That's cute," Belle laughs. "So, what, you're in love with your brother?"

"No!" Sullyoon snaps, more assured of herself that time. "That's gross."

Belle gives you a look. "So it's just about the sex? What's the big deal?" She asks bluntly. "Clearly he has a type." She gestures to you and smirks again. "There's enough of him to share."

Sullyoon scoffs at her proposal. "Share?" she repeats incredulously. She glances back at you and you offer nothing but a shrug in reply. "Absolutely not," Sullyoon responds firmly.

"Why?" Belle questions innocently.

"I don't wanna."

"Come on," Belle whines, letting her frustration show for once. She throws up her hands dramatically as she argues passionately, "Look, I understand wanting to keep him all to yourself, believe me! He's adorable." As she speaks, her eyes rake up and down your body appreciatively, making heat rise to your face rapidly. "I'm not trying to steal him or anything. Actually, we might just have more in common than you think."

Sullyoon rolls her eyes. "Unbelievable," she sighs.

"Just picture it," Belle insists. "The three of us, here, together."

"What are you suggesting, exactly?" Sullyoon crosses her arms. She isn't going anywhere.

"A threesome."

"Belle..." you caution, but it goes unheard.

"You can even go first," Belle offers casually.

This is ridiculous. Completely absurd. You watch the scene unfold in disbelief. Sullyoon appears to mull the proposition over, her foot tapping impatiently against the carpet as she thinks. There's no way she will agree. Not in a million years would she even consider such a thing... Right?

Sullyoon closes her eyes briefly and inhales deeply through her nose before exhaling slowly. She looks between both of you several times until she finally meets your gaze again and nods decisively. "Fine. Let's do this. Right here, right now." Her tone has turned resolute, decisive, confident, and bordering on cocky.

Your mouth falls agape. Is this really happening?

"Wait. Really?" Belle seems equally shocked by this sudden change. Apparently neither one of you expected her acquiescence quite this quickly or easily.

You look between the two girls. Back and forth. They're doing the same. It's this strange triangle of hesitancy and confusion.

"So how do we...?" Sullyoon trails off, obviously unsure as to how things work from this point forward. She's used to your shared normal, your routine; just the two of you having sex. Spontaneity demands creativity.

"I don't know. It's kinda..." You chime in but don't know how to explain it.

Belle rolls her eyes at the two of you. "Oh my god. Come on." She scoots closer toward the edge of the bed, pulling the duvet away. It slides off her shoulders revealing the perfect curve of her bare breasts. It's not like you've forgotten the sight of them not long ago (nothing about Belle is forgettable) but it sure does hit differently under the context of the situation. She gestures to the bed behind her. "If you two want to fuck, just fuck."

Sullyoon shoots daggers at Belle but still decides to approach regardless. When she reaches you, she grabs your hand roughly and drags you onto the mattress with her. It's all so easy, so natural, falling into a tangle of limbs with her. Even if Belle is watching, even if she's sitting right there. None of that matters anymore because once your mouths collide, everything else fades into insignificance.

You taste the sweetness of her saliva. Feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Smell her familiar perfume, lavender and honey. She's all around you, encasing you completely and enveloping you entirely until all that remains is her. The kiss grows more intense, tongues wrestling as she straddles your lap and grinds her crotch down onto yours eagerly. Desperately seeking relief from the throbbing between her legs.

Then her fingers snake beneath your shirt and lift it over your head, breaking contact. She flings the clothing across the room carelessly before returning the attention to your lips once more. As she leans in for another embrace, you remember exactly where you are, who's there with you, and why they're here.

"Belle—" you start, breaking away mid-kiss. You gesture to her awkwardly as Sullyoon starts mouthing at your neck.

"Mmm?" She answers as she crawls towards your outstretched hand.

"Are you okay with this?"

She takes it upon herself to grab hold of your wrist and guide your palm right onto her naked breast, guiding it around with her own grip. She holds you there until you get the memo, massaging it gently between your digits whilst rubbing her fingertip atop your finger delicately, coaxing you to tweak her erect nipple. "Very," she finally replies.

"This is so weird," Sullyoon remarks, lifting away from your shoulder as Belle moves to her side and perches on her knees.

"It was already weird before I got involved," Belle jokes back, giving you a mischievous grin. She brings her free hand up to cup Sullyoon's cheek.

Sullyoon shies away, "I won't kiss you."

"I wouldn't expect it."

They look at each other for a moment, as if silently coming to some kind of understanding that transcends verbal language altogether. After a few more seconds pass by without further incident, you see them exchange conspiratorial smirks, as though they were sharing some hilarious joke at your expense.

Sullyoon pulls her top over her head, while Belle makes a move at your shorts. For the second time this morning, she's pulling your cock free from them, only this time, she's presenting it to Sullyoon. Her hand wraps around the shaft and starts to jerk it up and down, eliciting a low moan out of you which catches their collective attention. Belle smiles slyly.

In her delicate lace bra, Sullyoon lowers her head, opens her mouth and presents her tongue. Belle presses your tip onto her tongue and Sullyoon is quick to lap at it hungrily. She slides her hands up along your thighs, gripping firmly as she takes you deeper.

"That's hot," Belle murmurs softly, still pumping you.

All you can do is bite your lip and watch as your stepsisters service your length together, competing for its pleasure and attention. They swap turns, passing you back and forth while occasionally meeting in the middle, sucking along either side. It's a little awkward, the way they get in each other's way, but somehow that makes it hotter. Seeing their cheeks squish together, heads bump and lips brush accidentally while fighting for dominance over your dick.

At one point, when Sullyoon has sucked you all the way to the hilt, you notice Belle burying her fingers into Sullyoon's hair. Then the hand slides further, until it cups the back of your sister's head. Then she pushes, holding her in place while she swallows your entire length. Sullyoon panics at first, spluttering slightly against your shaft before she relaxes, settling into the gag, taking it for a bit longer before Belle releases her.

"Fuck!" Sullyoon gasps once she has the freedom to breathe. Strings of spittle connecting her open mouth to the tip of your cock. "Why?"

"Because it's hot," Belle shrugs.

"She's right," you manage to groan out. "Very hot."

"See?" Belle states triumphantly. She places her hand behind your sister's head again, "So do it again."

Sullyoon doesn't put up any resistance. Belle pushes her down, holding her down again as you enter deep into the wet confines of her throat. Sullyoon grips tightly at the flesh of your thighs and tries to relax her body. Despite the initial discomfort, there's no denying that having someone else dictate the terms of her oral servitude adds another layer of eroticism to the whole affair. Belle lets her resurface with a deep gasp for air, spit smeared across her chin, a thin strand dangling precariously between the underside of your erection and the tip of her tongue.

"Look at how pretty you are like that," Belle coos condescendingly while stroking Sullyoon's hair affectionately, almost lovingly even. In spite of everything else, the humiliation of being reduced to such an object, you catch Sullyoon blushing at the praise. Even more shocking, Sullyoon seems to lean into her caresses willingly.

"You've made her blush, Belle." You joke lightly, breaking some tension. It earns a glare from Sullyoon. The humour is short-lived.

After another couple of rounds, during which you have to fight every instinct within yourself not to cum in either of their mouths, Belle asks, "Can I see you ride him?"

One thing is becoming clear: Belle loves to watch.

Sullyoon sits up and wipes the excess saliva from her jawline with the back of her wrist, still panting slightly from being choked so thoroughly. After regaining some composure, she merely nods her consent. There's an underlying tension, however subtle, woven throughout their interaction now but a hint of mutual respect borne from seeing the other's ability to please you so well.

As Sullyoon stands, Belle seems to ponder. On her knees, staring at her sister's body, as if admiring every aspect of her figure; slender legs, tight waist, and cute ass. You get it. You've been there. Gawking at Sullyoon from afar, stealing glances while nobody notices, fantasising about those very curves. And yet it's surreal seeing somebody else experiencing it in front of you.

When Belle speaks up, she points to Sullyoon's shorts. "May I?"

"Go ahead," Sullyoon mutters nonchalantly, almost absentmindedly. Her full focus seems to revolve around climbing onto your lap. Meanwhile, Belle carefully peels away the fabric that clings to Sullyoon's lower body, easing her out of them until her legs come free. In a series of graceful motions, Belle has exposed Sullyoon down to nothing—helped because Sullyoon never wears underwear in the house.

As Sullyoon settles over your hips, resting on her knees, Belle crawls up next to you, positioning herself comfortably alongside your body. She props herself upright, leaning sideways against your torso for support. With a finger, she traces shapes across your chest, drawing abstract patterns into your skin idly while keeping her eyes locked exclusively forward, entranced by Sullyoon above you.

She takes hold of your dick at its base. Taking her time to drag both it and herself against each other, exchanging spit and slick fluids that coat them. There's a little sway and rotation to her hips, teasing incessantly until the anticipation threatens to drive you mad. The soft skin of her tummy looks so tasty from here, rising and falling slowly as she breathes and moving as she rolls her body.

There comes a point where enough is enough.

Just as you reach to grab yourself and guide it inside of her, Belle stretches her hand down between Sullyoon's legs and takes hold of your cock instead. She slaps your tip against your sister's swollen clit. Up and down, hitting the sensitive button repeatedly. All it takes is one errant flick downwards, however accidental (or not), and now your cockhead is nestled snugly into Sullyoon's entrance.

Belle draws her palm back up over your body. "Sorry, my bad," she giggles. Except you know better, seeing the smug twinkle that sparkles behind her irises. Before you can say anything more, Sullyoon succumbs to gravity and the pleasure it brings. Her hips sink down. Accepting inch after inch of you inside of her welcoming pussy until every last bit fits snuggly within her walls. She groans quietly.

It's all so familiar—the sensation of being enveloped by her velvety folds—but still wonderful nonetheless.

The shift of pressure when she begins to grind on top of you reminds you of those many times in the evening darkness, those instances when all that mattered was staying silent. Now you have an audience. Somebody watching intently from your side.

Belle watches the action unfold, a gasp here and giggle there. Sullyoon's body arches back subtly whilst she rocks her pelvis back and forth rhythmically atop yours. Her eyelids droop heavily as ecstasy surges through her veins, causing goosebumps to prickle over her smooth flesh as she rides.

"You like riding your brother's dick?"

"Y-Yes," Sullyoon stutters out, too preoccupied to register fully what she said. This sets off the deviant in Belle. You sense her growing bolder, more confident with her lecherous remarks knowing they'll be met with little to no resistance.

"You gonna cum on it?"

"Yes!" Sullyoon cries. Every downward motion presses her clit against your pubic bone, sending waves rippling through her petite frame. You grip her waist firmly, helping her. Her ass collides loudly against your thighs when she bottoms out each time. There's hardly any need for you to buck your hips and meet her.

"Yeah, you love fucking your stepbrother, don't you?"

Sullyoon only whimpers. Whatever argument or shame she might muster has fallen prey to her own desires. Now that she's been given permission—to indulge these fantasies openly with others—it appears as though she'll never go back. How can anyone turn away from such bliss?

And to your own amazement, neither of you seems fazed by the fact Belle bears witness to everything transpiring before her eyes.

"So dirty. Such a bad girl." Belle's tone is sultry sweet like honey dripping off a spoon. She leans closer and plants her lips against yours softly. It takes a second, a single heartbeat passing in silence where your tongue darts forward to greet hers. Suddenly the kiss has become something fierce and passionate—an exchange filled entirely with unbridled hunger that knows nothing besides passion itself. Nothing exists beyond its carnal needs right now except for maybe one thing...

An explosion erupts deep within Sullyoon; an eruption so violent that it causes her entire form to shake uncontrollably atop you. Her moans fill your bedroom, and her whole body draws tense before collapsing limply upon you like a marionette whose strings had just been cut loose by some unseen force. She quivers and writhes atop your throbbing shaft.

"Must be one hell of a ride," Belle comments through laboured breaths.

"Find out for yourself," you respond, matching her energy.

"Mmmm," she purrs thoughtfully whilst absentmindedly tracing circles across Sullyoon's exposed backside. "Let's switch, 'kay?"

You're quick to respond. Grabbing onto Sullyoon's ass cheeks, digging your fingertips firmly into each supple mound as you hoist her upwards. Your cock slips effortlessly free, causing a shudder to run through you both simultaneously before pulling apart completely. A mixture of sexual fluids oozes messily down her thighs when you set her aside on the mattress.

Now it's Belle's turn.

The atmosphere shifts drastically as she straddles you. Where previously things had taken on this languid dreamlike state—with Sullyoon's gentle undulations atop your cock, punctuated by moans echoing throughout the room—now the urgency returns anew.

Once Belle has mounted you correctly, sinking down until she reaches hilt-deep within herself, then she starts gyrating wildly. Hips rolling furiously fast and grinding her sex hard against yours, driving you deeper than ever before.

Her tits bounce deliciously from the impacts and her lips purse prettily with exertion. From nothing to everything in the blink of an eye. She's leaning over you, pressing her forehead against yours and staring right into your soul as she rides your cock mercilessly. And those eyes—those beautifully smokey eyes—are burning with lustful fervour.

Belle's hot breath mingles sweetly together amidst the haze surrounding you two. Then her lips crash against yours in a searing kiss that steals away whatever remaining oxygen you have left within your lungs. Tongues dance between teeth, entwining passionately against one another until you're forced apart by necessity.

"How is he?" Sullyoon speaks up. She sounds remarkably coherent despite appearing like a spent mess lying sprawled out beside you two.

"Fucking huge," Belle gasps in response without breaking stride. Her pace doesn't slow at all, if anything she speeds up even more in defiance to accommodate your size better. Her voice wavers slightly when she speaks again. "He feels so good," she murmurs softly against your earlobe.

"Give me his face," Sullyoon demands, crawling closer to you, propping her body upright next to your head. Once her hands cup your cheeks and tilt your face up, she swings a leg over your head and positions her snatch directly above your mouth. Then she descends downwards gently, pressing herself flush against your lips.

As soon as contact occurs between tongue and slit, Sullyoon jolts upright suddenly as bolts shoot straight towards her core. Eagerly lapping away at her glistening cunt causes a ripple effect throughout her whole physique, making her hips gyrate involuntarily against your open mouth.

Belle continues slamming herself down hard atop you, rocking your entire foundation relentlessly. She throws her head backwards as the momentum builds steadily higher and higher. Unrestrained groans spill freely from her throat unchecked as pleasure overwhelms every other rational thought inside her brain. Meanwhile, you feast on the nectar that flows forth copiously from your step-sister's pussy, savouring the ambrosia coating thickly around your tongue as you slurp it greedily down.

Time loses meaning while submerged beneath the sea of sensations cascading over you ceaselessly—nothing existing beyond the confines of flesh pounding against flesh nor the taste saturating every inch of your being.

You claw for some sort of respite, finding your fingers digging into Sullyoon's ass as a makeshift warning of the feeling in your body. You're close but they won't stop, in fact, Belle works harder.

Everything escalates tenfold. Everything gets faster; harder; wilder.

It drives you absolutely insane.

Your cock spasms violently inside of Belle's convulsing sex. Simultaneously, she's screaming something incomprehensible—not quite words necessarily but definitely conveying something meaningful nonetheless. The surge of euphoria crashes through you like waves crashing upon the shore during a stormy night—ferociously crashing through every fibre of your being with unrestrained vigour. Cum floods her depths in hot thick spurts and her body tenses rigidly, shaking fiercely whilst gripping tightly onto you for stability. Sullyoon trembles too, twitching sporadically and squealing loudly through clenched teeth before eventually slumping forward once again, collapsing heavily upon your face while riding out her orgasmic peak alongside yours.

Seconds feel like minutes, minutes seem like hours.

Eventually, the intensity fades, replaced instead by gentle numbness which fills the void afterwards. You lay there, breathing raggedly—heart hammering heavily within ribcage and sweat trickling down skin dampened thoroughly, amongst bodily fluids staining sheets soaked in evidence of prior debauchery. Eventually, your sisters roll off of you.

Silence prevails for several long moments afterwards. No sound penetrates beyond shallow breaths. Nobody says anything; no words need be uttered aloud to express emotions present right now anyway.

***

Three days later, you wake up in bed, sandwiched between your sisters. Legs intertwined, warm skin brushing against one another and soft chests pillowing against your sides. Asleep.

This isn't unusual—not anymore. How quickly it has all become routine to sleep squished between them.

It's also not weird or uncomfortable. At least, you try to convince yourself of that. Because otherwise...well...

You decide not to finish the thought. Instead, you opt to focus solely on enjoying the sensation of having both beautiful girls wrapped snugly around you. Revel in their warmth and breathe deeply their scent. Cherish this dirty, taboo arrangement for all it's worth. There will surely come a day when everything falls apart; when reality inevitably comes knocking at the door. But until then, why not indulge? 

[alex-procrastinates]

as a nearsighted glasses wearer this is very accurate, i think it should be very helpful! :)

if it's ok, i'd also like to add a few things:

sports are not usually an issue with glasses (except when you get hit directly in the face with a ball and your glasses get shoved into your nose, which really fucking hurts!) for example, i do gymnastics and my glasses have fallen off about 3 times in 9 years of doing cartwheels and flipping around bars and all sorts of stuff. i have, however, recently smacked myself in the face with my leg and bent my glasses slightly out of shape, which is kinda annoying lol

if you have worn glasses for long enough it is possible for them to just become like a part of your body. i've had glasses for 9 years and i sometimes forget to take them off before i get in the shower!

people who see you without your glasses for the first time WILL comment on how different you look, and sometimes might not recognise you at first

if you are drinking a hot drink and breathe into your mug, your glasses will fog up. it usually goes away within a few seconds.

a nearsighted character might rest their glasses on their forehead while reading or using their phone. i know bc i do this all the time

not sure if this is true for other vision impairments, but for nearsighted people, water can refract light in a similar way to their glasses, so they can see a bit better underwater even when wearing normal goggles. my underwater vision is almost perfectly clear, but my eyes aren't that bad.

in australia we usually call nearsighted "short-sighted" and farsighted "long-sighted". this seems to be true for the uk as well

hope this helps! and to op, if you're uncomfortable with me adding to your post, just let me know and i'll delete my reblog :)

How to write a character with glasses

A guide for anyone wanting to write characters with glasses, but doesn’t know how yet.

 Different types of visual impairment

Near-sighted – not being able to see stuff in the distance

Far-sighted – not being able to see stuff up close

Presbyopia – easier in German: Altersweitsichtigkeit = elderly far-sightedness, not being able to read small print when you’re older, sometimes end up being far- and near-sighted at the same time

Astigmatism – light is not focused evenly on the retina, results in distorted and blurry vision

it’s also pretty normal to have different prescriptions for both eyes, one being stronger/weaker than the other one

 Different types of visual aids

Eyeglasses with actual glasses – easier to break, so more dangerous, can be grinded and polished differently than other material

Plastic glasses – lighter than the real glass, not that easy to get damaged

Reading glasses – only needed for reading and driving

Monocle – old-fashioned aesthetic

Bifocals – glasses that correct presbyopia, bottom is seeing closer, top for seeing in the distance

Contact lenses – different types (post about it coming soon)

 How to write it?

think about what kind of visual impairment does your character have?

what are they able to see?

can they see basically everything, but cannot read correctly?

can they see enough to get by, but cannot read and drive and get headaches without their glasses?

can they only see blurred images and colours?

do not change it halfway through the story! Choose their impairment and then stick with it.

what are situations where the glasses could hinder them?

are they doing a lot of sport, are they getting into fights, situations where they don’t want to wear them for aesthetic reasons?

can they not do something because of their impairment? (joining security forces, driving big trucks, etc.)

are they annoyed that they have to wear them? Are they only wearing contact lenses or are they just avoiding wearing anything even though they can’t see everything?

you don’t have to make a big deal out of your character wearing glasses, but it does play a big part in your character’s life

remember to put in a few references about it here and there throughout the story

things to consider

glasses fog up

through temperature changes

while going outside or coming in

while sweating

glasses need to be adjusted

they will never stay where they are supposed to be

especially when moving around and keeping your head down

the character will need to adjust them from time to time and push them up again

glasses need to be cleaned a lot

everything will make them dirty

best option are specific cleaners

if you don’t have them handy a shirt will have to do, but it needs to be the right material, synthetic stuff is not working

people with glasses will ask their friends for their shirts if they have to

sunglasses, swim goggles and 3D glasses are impractical

3D glasses need to be over the glasses and it can be tricky to get it right

sunglasses need the right prescription and then you would have to change glasses every time you enter a building

there are clips that go over the normal glasses, but they have to be exact to look fine

swim goggles can also be with prescription, but you would also have to get your glasses as soon as you’re out of the water to take the goggles off and still see enough

there are also special glasses for other sports (it’s not great to do sports with real glasses, because if they break it can severely damage your eyes)

times where you have to take the glasses off

when showering

when going to bed

when putting on shirts with a tight neckline

glasses are expensive

some insurances pay for them, a lot don’t

the worse the eyesight the more expensive they get

glasses and frames are two different things and get sold separately (you can have really expensive glasses in a cheap frame or vice versa)

you also need a spare pair of glasses, if you lose yours or they get damaged (often this is just an old pair, where the prescription is no longer strong enough)

more things to consider

a new partner cannot just take the glasses and throw them to the side, when the fun starts, if it leaves the character without being able to see properly, there needs to be some more trust there

people will take the glasses and put them on, yelling ‘OMG you’re really blind!’ and then ask you how they look like, especially funny when you really can’t see them

people asking ‘how many fingers can you see?’

light hits differently, which means you see light differently and also, it’s hard to take good pictures with glasses

rain is a nightmare, it’s like driving through rain without a windshield wiper

having to be careful on roller coasters and other stuff, because they can and will fly off

especially with astigmatism it’s hard to drive at night

going to the hair dresser can be annoying when they take your glasses off and then ask you if that’s the right length to cut it and you can’t see it

you cannot lie in bed (except on the back) without the glasses pressing uncomfortable in your face

mascara definitely will end up on the glasses and getting that cleaned is a nightmare

wearing hats, beanies, giant headphones and even facemasks can be extra annoying, because the arms of the frame will get in the way

you can get headaches from not wearing your glasses, from the pressure of the frame of the glasses and from wearing new and therefore glasses with a stronger prescription

small children love glasses, as soon as they can grab stuff, they will yank them off your face if you let them get close enough

kids will tease you about them, but after middle school it’s not really a thing anymore (mostly and as adults it’s really nothing special)

glasses have blind spots on the sides and top and bottom, so you sometimes have to move your head more

Tropes

Blind without glasses and dropped glasses

I actually only have sharp vision for a distance of 10 cm, which means I would not get home save if I had to cross a street to get to my building without glasses

but I very rarely lose my glasses

so, the trope of someone not being able to see without them is correct in some cases, but it’s definitely not hilarious and there are not often situations where they are just without glasses and fumbling around

Being smart

people wearing glasses can be just as dumb as everyone else

try not to make the only one wearing glasses be the smart kid

The Cure

often found in fantasy books, people will somehow get cured from needing glasses

getting some superpowers that eradicate their visual impairment and ‘fixing’ them

The Makeover scene

I love makeover scenes just like everybody else does

but: it’s not really cool to see the ‘ugly duckling’ suddenly becoming a beautiful swan by throwing away their glasses

and it’s impractical, if they just put them away and it was established that they can’t really see that well without them it’s just stupid to leave them at home

if they get new and cooler glasses, the person giving them to them would have needed to know their exact prescription, glasses are expensive and it takes time before they are ready

if they wear contact lenses from now on, they would also need to know the prescription and if they have never worn contact lenses before it will take some time to get used to putting them in and wearing them

Finally… please write characters with glasses. This sounds like a lot of hassle, but for most people it’s the most normal thing in the world. Studies show that soon half the world population will need glasses and I still didn’t really have a cool girl with glasses as a role model in literature when I grew up. It’s just another form of representation and I hope I can help you with this post to create some cool characters!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee! 🥰

[cowboybeepboop]

Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs. 

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever. 

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt. 

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place. 

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee. 

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers." 

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression. 

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly. 

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.." 

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift. 

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you. 

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with." 

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse. 

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck. 

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly. 

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body. 

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated. 

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..." 

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin. 

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control. 

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair," 

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy. 

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating" 

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air. 

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours. 

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him. 

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches. 

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt. 

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you. 

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust. 

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you. 

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker. 

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort. 

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need. 

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release. 

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside. 

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened. 

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him. 

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way. 

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process. 

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

[otaku553]

A while ago I made a redesign of Hallritt so I figured I would make one of Merold and then I forgot about it for a really long time hahahaha

To be fair I don’t really have any issues with Merold’s design the way I did for Hallritt but I thought it might be interesting to exaggerate some shapes a bit more— puffy sleeves and a larger jacket to appear a bit more intimidating and imposing as he’s known as the most powerful knight, for example. I was designing with a sort of court jester/wizard/advisor appearance in mind and I’m not sure I accomplished that but hopefully he looks less modern than his canon counterpart. I also changed up his hair a little bit so that the ahoge looks kind of like a quarter note in following with the My Melody theming.

[immortalmolloy]

“I’m sorry,” Daniel apologized again. “I don’t want to put you in danger. I’m mad at myself too for not thinking better. I’m trying not to make such stupid decisions all the time.”

He sighed and tried to collect his thoughts, wanting to shake off the whole situation with Armand so he could give his full attention to Mina for such important conversations. She deserved that. She deserved the world and he wished he could give it to her.

“I guess it just became a habit,” he admitted. “I didn’t think much about it. It just started slipping out easily as breathing.” He hadn’t even realized he was saying it so often until Armand pointed it out. “I’ve grown and changed and healed in the years we’ve known each other. I still have a lot of work to do on myself, but I’m not afraid of marriage like I used to be. I think it would be too complicated to marry anyone when I love you and Lestat both deeply. But our bond is strong and it might as well be marriage just not by law. It’s stronger than marriage even. I know that we’re not like my parents and we never will be. I… I was gonna talk to you about it eventually. I was gonna ask you if we…”

This next part was nerve-wracking. He was putting himself out there and being very vulnerable. He might get let down and it would hurt. He also worried how to navigate such an issue with Mina who had once had a loving marriage and lost her husband.

“I was going to see if you might want to… wear rings?” He bit his lip, bracing himself for a bad reaction to it.

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 35

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: rude bitches, rich people being wildly out of touch with the modern era, vague hints of body image issues, comfort, and lots of holiday fluff

wc: 3.6k

A/N: Happy holidays all! I had hoped to have this chapter up yesterday, but the characters stopped talking to me for a few days so ... here we are. 😅

Chapter Selection

Jason healed fast, when he bothered to get medical attention. By the end of the week he was back to his standard training regiment, the arm wound was already shaping up to be one of his less pronounced scars, and Bruce insisted he couldn't use the incident to get out of the Wayne Foundation Christmas Gala. So, the Friday before Christmas I found myself back in my red dress, this time paired with a white faux fur wrap draped across my shoulders. Jason bit back a grin when I held out the necklace he'd given me, eagerly taking it. I held my hair out of the way while he clasped it around my neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck.

“Stunning~” he purred softly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I giggled softly, leaning against him. “Thank you~”

Damian cleared his throat behind us and I turned toward him. He looked downright regal in his suit; it was perfectly tailored, and the vibrant green tie matched his eyes beautifully.

“Oh my god, Damian! You look incredible, sweetie!” I squealed a bit, clenching my fists by my cheeks.

He flushed, looking away awkwardly. “Calm down, sister.”

I bit back the coo’s that threatened to pour out of my mouth. Damian rolled his eyes at the face I was making, and Jason laughed softly; “You might want to let her get it out, demon brat. Wouldn't want her squealing like that when the socialites get here.”

Damian frowned, staring up at me before holding his arms out for a hug. “... Proceed.”

I squealed and pulled him in, kissing the top of his head. “My handsome baby!”

He allowed my babbling for several minutes before gently pulling away. “Alright, alright, that's enough.”

I took a deep breath, getting myself under control again. “Sorry, sorry ... Who else will be there tonight?”

“Cain and Thomas will be around. And Father and Grayson are on Bat-duty.”

“Ok, cool.” I nodded. “... Where's Tim?”

“He’s needed at a Drake Industries event tonight. But he'll be here tomorrow for the holiday.” Jason rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile on his face.

Damian stayed glued to my side throughout the evening. Since Bruce was ‘inescapably occupied', the Gotham social scene had their eyes on those of us who were present. The WE board was also at the gala, so we were fortunately not accosted with requests to meet with Bruce at the office, but we were left on our own to deal with the social aspect.

An older woman approached us on the side of the dance floor, an insincere smile plastered to her face. “Now you must be Jason Todd. And young Damian Wayne, ah, such a pleasure to meet you both! Mr. Wayne has told us so much about you!”

Jason raised an eyebrow; “oh, has he?”

“Of course! He's terribly proud of his boys, you know. Oh, we were just devastated when we heard he was busy tonight. Perhaps you could tell your father we spoke?” She smiled brightly down at Damian; “it is getting to be about that time, isn't it? And our Maria would just love to meet you, young man.”

Damian pressed closer to me, reaching for my hand. I frowned, gently squeezing back. “... Sorry, it's getting to be what time?”

The woman tittered; “well, young men of status must be introduced to their social equals, mustn't they? Mr. Wayne will want to secure a good match for his son.”

I blinked a bit, wrapping an arm protectively around Damian's shoulders as I turned toward Jason; “what year is it? Have we fallen through a wormhole to the Regency period?”

Jason laughed as the woman's expression soured. “Perhaps we should call Mr. Wayne directly...”

“I'd love to hear that. When are you going to call? I'll make sure we're visiting.” Jason snorted.

The woman scurried away, huffing softly. Damian frowned deeply, staying close. I gently stroked his hair. “... Do you want to go up to your room, sweetheart? We can say you got tired.”

He slowly shook his head. “No, not yet, I'll be ok.”

Cass came over, looking at me as she held a hand out to Jason; “I need to borrow him for a minute.”

Jason rolled his eyes; “why?”

“I told the VP I couldn't dance with him because I promised you this one.”

He sighed, taking her hand. “Why me? Why not Duke?”

They made their way onto the dance floor, and Damian looked up at me, offering me his hand. “... Sister, shall we dance?”

I chuckled softly, taking it. “Such a little gentleman~”

He smirked a bit, leading me onto the floor after Cass and Jason. Damian was a surprisingly good dancer, and we spun around the dance floor a few times. Eventually, we ended up at the buffet table for some punch. A group of women were giggling amongst themselves nearby, and I caught just a bit of their conversation.

“It's just a shame about his face, you know?”

“Ugh, tragic. He was such a cute kid.”

“I know! I could have gotten past his poor upbringing, but that scar … that’s a deal breaker.”

“Didn't he have to find a girl from the bad side of town?”

“Yeah, he did! And I heard she's pretty f-”

Damian snapped; “yes, my new sister is very pretty. She's also clever, and kind, and we're all very pleased to call her family.”

The girls gasped softly, eyes darting toward us; “... This is a private conversation.”

“Is it? You weren't doing a very good job of keeping it to yourselves.”

I gently placed a hand on Damian's shoulder; “ignore them kiddo, they're not important.”

“Excuse you?” One of the girls shrieked; “my daddy could buy and sell you!”

“And yet he can't buy you some manners?” I sipped my punch, rolling my eyes as she sputtered.

I felt a familiar hand on my back as Jason slid in next to me. “Princess? Is everything alright?”

I smiled softly, leaning against him slightly; “hello, handsome~”

“These imbeciles are under the incredibly flawed impression that their opinions on our family are worth listening to.” Damian growled softly.

Jason's arm tightened around my waist. “I see … Well, which of us is the star of tonight's gossip?”

One of the girls cleared her throat; “n- nothing like that, Mr. Todd. These two misheard…”

“I highly doubt that. Come on, say it to our faces.” Jay raised an eyebrow.

“... Really, there's nothing to say-”

“They were commenting on your scars, Todd.”

The girls paled, clearing their throats awkwardly. “N- now that's just not true. None of us said anything about you…”

“My brother is a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. Tell the truth now, you don't have any vapid comments for me, maybe about this one?” He gestured toward the J branded onto his cheek. “Everyone's always so curious about it. If you want to talk, talk. Don't let me stop you.”

I gently squeezed his hand. “Jace, they're not worth it. Come on, let's get some air, yeah?”

He slowly nodded, frowning. “... Yeah, alright baby.”

I nodded, letting him lead the way. As we passed the girls, I leaned in to whisper; “it's Christmas, so I'm going to be nice to you today. But if I hear one more unkind word about my man tonight I will find you, and I will show you exactly how we handle these things on the ‘bad side of town'. Got it?”

The ringleader of their group sneered at me; “what are you gonna do, sweetheart?”

I looked her over; “... Let's just say you'll look more interesting when I'm done.”

“Is that a threat?!” She growled.

“Of course not. It's a guarantee.” I smirked, rejoining my boys as they stepped into the gardens.

The snow swirled lazily around us, and Jason leaned against a stone railing. I gently stroked his back, and he sighed softly, holding me close. “... You weren't particularly subtle. Someone will have heard what you said to them.”

“Fine, they can share the story far and wide for all I care. It will spare me from having to repeat myself.”

He chuckled softly, looking over at me. “... It's supposed to be my job to defend your honor…”

“How exactly will you do that, Todd? Shoot the trollops?” Damian smirked a bit. “That will be even less subtle than her threats.”

“... Did they say something?” He frowned.

“Damian didn't let them.”

He smirked; “I was not about to let them speak unkindly of my favorite sister.”

Jason chuckled, ruffling his hair a bit. “Good.”

I smiled softly, kissing Jason's cheek. “You feel alright?”

He leaned in, nodding slowly. “Yeah … I just … I'd almost forgotten what that was like.” He leaned against me, and I held him close. “... At least they don't know about the rest of them though.”

I cupped his cheeks, kissing his forehead. “They’re nothing. They’re insects taking cheap shots at a king because it makes them feel better about how insignificant they are. It lets them pretend they don’t burn with jealousy every time they see you.”

He chuckled weakly, cupping my cheek and pulling me into a kiss. “A king, huh? Does that make you my queen?”

“I suppose that's for you to decide, my king~” I giggled softly.

Damian gagged a bit. “Ok, both of you need to stop, or I'll have to follow Thomas around for a while.”

I woke on Christmas Eve to an insistent knocking. Jason's arms tightened around me and he groaned softly. “... Whaaat?”

“Snowball fight!!!” Duke roared from the other side of the door.

Jason shot out of bed, stumbling for the closet.

“Woah!” I blinked a bit. “What's going on?”

“Snowball fight! Get dressed!” He grinned, tossing some warm clothes onto the bed for me. I chuckled softly, pulling them on. Jay grabbed my hand as soon as I was dressed, pulling me toward the door.

We met Duke, Tim, and Steph in the foyer. Tim grinned, leading us all outside. The grounds were blanketed in pristine white, with more flakes fluttering down around us. “Come on, we gotta make a base!”

We ran for the yard. Dick and Bruce were already building a shelter while Damian and Cass made snowballs. We hunkered down a good distance from them.

“Duke, Steph, you're on snowballs!” Tim announced. They got started, and the rest of us began creating a snow hill to hide behind.

“Sister! It's not too late, you can join the winning side!” Damian called across the yard.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you!” I laughed. “Join us, baby brother, and our victory will be glorious!”

“I will not betray my father!” He roared, laughing. “If you will not join us, you are the enemy! There will be no mercy, sister! Reconsider your loyalties!”

“You reconsider yours, little one!”

Jason laughed, offering me a snowball. “Ladies first?”

I grinned, kissing his cheek, and threw. The ball burst against Bruce's back, and the game was on. Soon I could barely make out Tim's attempts to shout instructions to our team over the sounds of laughter and snowballs bursting all around us.

We must have spent hours out there. Duke snuck away at one point, bringing back donuts and thermoses of coffee. After a long while, a taxi van came up the driveway. Bruce called time out as Bernard hopped out. The driver lowered a ramp, and Babs rolled out as well.

Tim beamed, running over to greet his boyfriend, and Dick ran over to give Babs a hug. Everyone gravitated toward the house to say hi, and Alfred called us all in for hot chocolates. Jay wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a couch to cuddle and warm up.

“Should we do first presents now?” Dick grinned.

“First presents?”

“On Christmas Eve everyone gets to open one present!” Steph grinned, pressing a box into Cass's hand. “Open this one, Cass!”

Everyone took turns opening gifts. Jason tried to give me one, but Tim shouted; “wait!”

I jumped, looking over to him. “... Tim, we had an agreement. You got me jewelry for my first gala, that was my Christmas present from you.”

He grinned, holding out a box. It had blue wrapping paper with a big silver bow. “Yes, but this isn't a Christmas present. This is a Christmas Eve present. … And if you don't buy that, it's a Hanukkah present.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “... Are you Jewish?”

“Bruce is.”

“... Do you celebrate Hanukkah, or are you using it to make me accept your gift?”

“Sometimes we do, when his cousin visits. But otherwise, it’s hard enough to get him to do a one day holiday.” He shrugged, pressing the box into my hands.

“... Ok, fine. Thank you, Tim.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes affectionately as I took the box. I carefully unwrapped it, blinking in shock; Tim had put together an assortment of rare and luxurious spices, including saffron, Tahitian vanilla beans, and several things I'd never even heard of. “... Woah! Tim, this is so much…”

He grinned. “You like it? I figured you probably haven't had a chance to cook with some of these before.”

“You'd be right. Thank you so much!” I gave Tim a quick hug, and Damian peered at the spices.

“Sister, we must make saffron cookies. Please?”

I grinned. “Sounds good, kiddo! Next weekend?”

He beamed and nodded, leaning against me a bit. I stroked his hair, holding him close as Bruce and Dick brought out some games. The rest of the day was spent playing and eating. Bruce surprised me with how enthusiastic he was; given how Dick and Tim spoke about it, I had assumed he would participate in a little bit, then disappear for a while. Instead, he spent the whole day with us, and he even seemed to be having fun.

Bernard and Babs stayed for dinner before heading back home, sharing a cab into the city again. At bedtime Damian had me go up with him to tuck him in. I sat on the side of his bed as he got situated, smiling softly as I offered him a small red box. “I have a present for you, baby brother.”

He tilted his head, curious; “not tomorrow?”

“You'll get a present tomorrow too, but I thought you'd want to receive this one in private.” He opened it slowly, sliding my old ipod into his hand. “I recorded something special for you.”

He looked up at me, sliding an earbud into his ear before pushing play. His face lit up as the song started. “... You recorded my lullabies?”

I nodded, grinning; “so that you can listen to them even if I can't sing for you myself.”

He grinned, hugging me tight. “... Thank you, sister.”

I stroked his back gently, kissing the top of his head. “You're welcome, baby.”

I set the ipod on his bedside table for him, tucking him in. Once he was comfy I cleared my throat and began to sing. The words flowed, almost effortlessly, and I silently thanked the grandma's who'd spent so much time helping me practice at the Arab Cultural Center. Damian's eyes stayed glued to my face as I sang, a look of shock and wonder frozen on his face.

As I finished the song, he whispered; “... You … you learned an Arabic lullaby … for me?”

I nodded, smiling softly; “I know my accent is very American, but the ladies at the cultural center said it was coming along. What do you think?”

“... It is very American, … but it's perfect. … Can … Can you do it again?”

I nodded, singing the song again. He curled up and I gently trailed a finger down the bridge of his nose, lulling him to sleep. His eyes fluttered shut, and soon he was snoring softly.

In the morning I woke to Jason's fingers delicately tracing designs on my shoulder. I smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his chest. “Morning~”

“Morning, doll~ … merry Christmas~”

“Merry Christmas~ … ready for your present?”

He chuckled softly. “I don't know, am I?”

“Not that kind of present, silly.” I chuckled, stretching as I sat up and grabbed a big bag of presents. I found Jason's, offering him the red and gold wrapping. He kissed me gently before carefully popping it open. He slowly smiled, looking over the handmade book inside. The cover was a watercolor painting of the pair of us, Jason cupping my chin about to kiss me. It was a perfect mirror of the kiss scene in the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. He carefully opened the book, reading the scenes I had dutifully transcribed; scenes that reminded me of us.

“It's beautiful, baby girl, thank you.” he smiled softly, pulling me into a kiss. “I love you~”

I grinned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I love you too~”

He smiled softly, offering me a silver wrapped gift. “Your turn.” I grinned, opening it to find a book; ‘Love in Prose: An Annotator's Book of Love Poems'. “I was going to write something for you, but … well, you know I struggle with words. I try, but they don't come to me the way they come to you, you always know what to say. ... I did find some of my own words; they're not very pretty, but I can promise you that they are true. But, mostly I found myself quoting the experts. ... So, I thought it best to just … give you the experts.”

I flipped open the book, reading the first poem; Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe.

“Oh, Jason … it's perfect.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, hugging him tight. “I love it! Thank you~”

He hugged back, kissing my temple. We cuddled like that for a little while, until a soft knock on the door interrupted the quiet.

“Todd? Sister?”

“Morning, kiddo~”

He popped the door open, still wearing his pj's. “Hi. Breakfast is ready.”

I nodded, getting up. “Thanks Damian!”

Jason stretched, popping his back, and picked up the presents. “Ok, let's go!”

We met everyone in the family room, and Jason set the presents out. I passed out hand painted snowflake shaped platters loaded with cookies, brownies, and fudge. Damian's platter had extra ma'amoul, but everyone got a selection. Jason passed out mugs filled with hot chocolate packets, candy canes, and marshmallow toppers.

“So cute! Did you guys paint these yourselves?” Steph grinned.

I nodded, beaming. “We went to the place in the mall! Jay did the mugs, and I did the platters! And we made the treats ourselves!”

Everyone got comfy, and more presents were passed out. Bruce gave everyone gift cards for a bunch of fun things around Gotham; mine included several coffee shops and restaurants near Gotham University, as well as craft stores, and book stores. Jason, Damian and I all also received year passes to the Gotham Zoo. Dick had opted for practical gifts; lots of cozy slippers, favorite snacks, and upgrades for people's home goods. Tim gave high tech presents; lots of hologram art and smart devices. Steph passed around self care items, all luxury brands. Finally, it was my turn. I gave everyone their gifts, chewing my lower lip a bit. I really hoped they liked them.

For Dick, I had embroidered an elephant head onto a royal blue scarf. Elephants are clever, and friendly, and many have a surprising sense of humor, much like Dick. Tim received a handmade journal; the cover had a watercolor painting of a dragon guarding his forest. For Babs, I painted a cityscape, with heavenly sunbeams peaking between the buildings, illuminating otherwise dark corners of the city, just like she did for all of us. For Steph, a purple beanie with green vines and a large white dahlia embroidered on - the flower of kindness.

Damian received an emerald green scarf with a black and gray wolf cub and a silver crescent moon. Wolves are loyal, and even a young pup is fiercely protective of their family. Perfect for my baby brother. Cass's black beanie was embroidered with lavender and rosemary - herbs said to foster clarity, something she seemed to bring to every situation. For Duke, I had embroidered solar motifs in gold on a white scarf. Alfred received a watercolor painting of a fjord; a peaceful, but defensibly sound landscape. And finally, for Bruce, a black scarf with colorful fringe and embroidered stripes representing each of his children.

Dick and Steph put their presents on immediately, complimenting my choices, and Damian shot up to run to the tree. He pulled a large flat rectangle wrapped in green out from behind the tree, bringing it over to me.

“Open this next.”

I nodded, grinning, and carefully peeled the paper away. As soon as I realized what he was giving me, I felt tears threaten to fill my eyes. “Damian, you're giving me the painting?”

He nodded. “You said it made you feel beautiful.”

I nodded quickly, sliding the paper away. The portrait he'd painted of the three of us on my couch was even more beautiful than I'd remembered. “It does. It's incredible. Thank you, baby brother.”

“I haven't seen this painting, what did he do?” Dick craned his neck to look over my shoulder, and I turned the painting around for everyone to see.

“Woah … you're getting so good, Damian!” Steph grinned.

He flushed a bit, clearly pleased. “Thank you…”

Bruce nodded. “It's remarkable.”

Damian smiled, taking his seat again. Jay wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and Duke took his turn passing out gifts.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman @iimichie

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a partner that smokes/vapes

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Svt reaction to having a s/o thats smokes or vapes?‘

A/N: This is something that a lot of people have some strong opinions about. However, SK doesn’t exactly have a low smoking rate, so it’s unrealistic to say that not a single one of them has ever smoked or vaped before. For the sake of this reaction, there might be mentions that they have smoked/vaped before. If you have a really strong opinion about this topic, it might be best to skip this one. Therefore, here’s my obligatory ‘I don’t know these people’ warning. I’m writing this based on the overall vibe. I very well might be wrong!!

Doesn’t hate it as long as you’re healthy overall - Jeonghan, Jun, Mingyu, Chan

Might partake himself socially or in moments of high stress, but overall, he probably doesn’t make a habit of it. Therefore, it would be hypocritical of him to say something about you doing the same thing. However, if he feels that you depend on it quite a bit or that your health is taking a serious hit because of it, he’ll encourage you both to stop. If you agree to that, he’ll pull out all the stops - the patches, the gum, or maybe even counseling or assistance from a medical professional if you want or need it. 

Doesn’t necessarily love it, but lets it go as long as you’re generally healthy - Seungcheol, Joshua, Wonwoo, Minghao, Vernon

I don’t necessarily see them partaking themselves, except on maybe the rarest of occasions. And they aren’t thrilled if you smoke/vape regularly, but you’re an adult, and he can only say he wished that you didn’t. Unless he feels that your health is suffering because of it, he probably won’t say too much. But if you ever express that you feel like you should quit, he’ll leap at the chance, also pulling out all the stops. 

Despises it and tells you so - Hoshi, Woozi, DK, Seungkwan

I feel like they might have a strong opinion about it, and you’ll know it because he’ll tell you pretty quickly. Might even seem a little disappointed in it sometimes, which will undoubtedly sting. But you’re an adult, and he can’t do much besides be vocal about his opinion. Still, if you ever give in to his lectures, he’ll have already done a ton of research on smoking cessation options, just waiting for the day to pull them out. However, if you discover any health issues directly related to smoking, he might harbor some resentment about it because he feels it was preventable. 

[sirxlla]

The Qilin Test

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: Meeting all Damian's pets (minus the dragon bat he apparentally has 😀 [im concerned for him a bit]) requested by @alexamars17

Notes: The title is a Harry Potter reference, Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Meeting a billionare's son online was probably not on your bingo yard for the year... Definitely not something that Damian would ever think would happen but alas Jason had set up a dating profile for his little brother. (No matter how old Damian got Jason always called him his little brother cuz he knew a pissed him off.)

"Online datings tragic at best or its for casual sex, no one actually finds anyone that way." Damian rolled his eyes as his brothers attempts to get him back into the dating pool.

"Come on it'll be fun and plus you're more tolerable when you have a girlfriend." Jason just wanted him to try it, Damian had been miserable for months after Raven left him.

"Plus you wont have to worry about her reading your mind and shit cause chances are she'll be human and she wont be able to do that hoodoo voodoo stuff on you."

"Fine, Todd but if this goes south..." Damian huffed unhappy, Jason had probably made it all stupid in general and was doing this as some sorta prank or something.

"Just try it." Jason handed Damian his phone back, the profile was actually set up fairly nice considering Jason did it. It was clear to Damian at that moment that Jason was serious, a little light shone through the broken state of his heart that Raven left him in.

It had been months since Raven and he really had loved her but she had looked inside and saw memories he didnt want anyone to know about...Then she threw them in his face during an argument. He still loved her but he couldnt be with someone who chastised him for his past.

Anyways, he decided to give this a try and he found the girl that he just instantly clicked with. He could talk about whatever was interesting to him and she had no issue talking back to him about it. He was talking booby traps, grave guns and how during WW2 they would make bombs out of things that look like regular objects...

Damian found himself thinking about her during the day and he found himself staying up late just so that he could talk to her. They met up once but they were both extremely nervous and that was extremely obvious, the date had got cut short because of paparazzi...you know with him being Damian Wayne and all?

The next time he met you he decided that it would be a really good idea to introduce you to his pets, pets tended to make things go a lot smoother and everyone was a lot less nervous around a pet. He was so nervous that Titus might not like you...Bat-Cow liked everyone and Alfred was a cat so he was to be expected of a cat.

You came over to Wayne Manor where he told you to meet him, gentlemanly he opened your drivers side door for you and held out his hand. Reaching out to grab his hand you got out of your car and walked behind him, your hand still in his, he was suprisingly so gentle.

"Okay so I have three pets...I'll show you the biggest and most loveable- I mean they all are really but everyone loves her." He guided you through the yard and twords the little barn area he had built especially for her and your mind wandered to curiousity.

Damian keeps your hand in his so you dont trip cause its a little slick. Good thing he told you to dress casual. He gently guided you in and you saw the big white and brown cow.

"Oh, My- Wow. Oh, she'd beautiful! And so cute." You squealed over the cow. Each word that you said made him fall deeper and deeper into the love that you was already feeling for you.

"She's got a little bat symbol around her eyes that's why we call her BatCow." Of course you could only tell you partially what the reason was cause he hadn't told you his entire family is full of vigilantes.

"Oh, my god! Thats so cute and so clever!" Your eyes lit up as he explained that, his broken heart was being quickly mended and put back together by you, it swelled at the sound of your amusement.

Damian let you feed her and pet her for a bit before asking if you wanted tonmeet his other animals. This is where he was nervous, Titus listed with little issue but of courss but he was still worried about him liking you.

Using your hand he guided you up twords the manor. Of course you were in awe cause this place was beautiful so he walked slow. Once he got in he whistled and the dog came with little issue, Titus was well trained and well behaved but he definitely made his opinions very obvious.

Titus sniffed around her to see how he felt about her, curious sniffs quickly turned to him yipping like a puppy and turning around to get his toy for you to throw.

Damian smiled, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He had never seen him act like this with someone that he just met but he seemed extremely happy and extremely trusting of you. Considering most people say that dogs can tell what type of person someone is without even being around them for long, this was a good sign.

Titus came back with the toy and you threw it and he went and got it and brought it back, yipping and wagging his body and tail. Whilst you and Titus played Alfred the Cat decided to come out abd brush up against you.

"Was this a dream?" Damian almost asked himself cause of how well it was going.

"Awww, Hello little kitty!" You doted on both his indoor pets instantly like they were your own and his love for you just increased ten fold, he'd never let anything hurt you not now when he was so completely enthralled with you.

"That's Alfred Pennyworth the cat, he's named after the butler and this is Titus." He introduces the animals formally.

"They're just the cutest little guys." You were just so happy and they were just so adorable.

"Little guys?" He thought, he didnt even notice the smile on your face and the way you treated every animal as if it was as small as a chipmunk and how they all got equal love. If he didn't know you were the one before, he definitely knew now.

Over time Titus took on the role of protecting you the same way he protected Damian. Both you and Damian too care of Bat-Cow and Alfred came and went as he pleased, if you sat still long enough he coiled himself up ontop of you. Damian had his own little perfect family and it was even remotely complete without you.

(Send me prompts if youd like.)

Masterlist

[gibberishfangirl]

WINDBREAKER | twinzies

Synopsis ✰ being a couple consists of matching doesn’t it?

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Toma Hiragi, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw!, established relationship, matching accessories/items, teasing, couple goals tbh, fluff, literally just cutest couple stuff

when matching with Sakura ᡣ𐭩 it had to be kept simple and light. if you suggested anything too much or something too obvious he might have a heart attack. in all honesty the fact that you two had matching phone charms didn’t even register all that much in his head. he’d notice a cute mini miffy charm that you had connected to your phone and stare at it. he wouldn’t even realize the amount of the times you caught him looking at it. you thought it was cute to see your boyfriend be intrigued by the same things you liked. it inspired you to get him the same one you had for his. you surprised him with it and he’d blush while saying “thanks… whyd you get me one?” “no reason, just thought it would look cute on your phone too.” your smile would make him even more flustered as he was quick to put it on. a few days went past and sakura was slightly memorized by the gift, he’d play with it when he had free time or spend him time just looking at it. one time when he was fidgeting with it Nirei distracted him by saying “hey that’s a cute phone charm sakura! doesn’t your girlfriend have the same one?” “oh yeah… she does.” another blush was found creeping up his face as he realized you two have the same exact charm.

Umemiya ᡣ𐭩 wasn’t by any means a shy guy so whenever it came to matching or expressing any sort of affection he had no issue with it. he would want to do anything that would make you happy and he also liked the idea of showing off your relationship even more. you were all his and he’d let the entire world know if he could. no amount of teasing or comments could ever make him retract his feelings. even if it meant the teasing would leak into his meetings and personal conversations. “you’re not a dog y’know, wearing a chain with their name on it? just buy yourself a collar at that point.” Hiragi would tease, not meaning his words but just trying to get a reaction out of Ume. not that it worked, Ume knew exactly what he was trying to do. “no need to be so bitter Hiragi, i still care about you. don’t feel like you’re getting replaced.” Ume would pat Hiragi’s back sympathetically as if he were consoling him to which Hiragi would just roll his eyes at. it was impossible to make Ume feel any ounce of shame. especially when it was about his personal relationship with you.

when you mentioned matching couple’s clothing Suo ᡣ𐭩 was a bit caught off guard. not that he was against it by any means, it’s just that he didn’t think you’d be the type to suggest it. the matching essence was more minimalist than anything since the two of you would coordinate the outfits to go together. you two would have matching shoes and simple jewelry. you would wear a black skirt while he wore black pants and then have matching colored shirts (different styles, same color). anyone who saw you two apart wouldn’t assume you’d have a matching twin but it made sense whenever you two were reunited. you loved to do this whenever the two of you went on dates and Suo loved the way your eyes lit up when you planned out the outfits. it was a win win situation for everyone. most people would compliment your outfits or stare in awe at how adorable the two of you were. even if the date was interrupted by running into some of his friends it would still be fun. All of them would typically compliment the two of you and comment on how well you two look together. Sakura was a bit more on the shy side so he would blush at the sight of your relationship in general. he might have to stop staring at you guys after realizing that you’re matching, the cuteness would be too much of him. he would secretly wish he had someone to do that with.

it was Nirei ᡣ𐭩‘s idea to match. not that it was surprising to hear that he wanted to have matching accessories. he absolutely adores you and it’s hard for him to purchase only one thing for himself when he knows you would also love it just as much. he was for sure a little cheesy with some of the accessories such as the matching necklaces that were a heart and a key. SO CHEESY AND CLICHE but you can’t bring yourself to even cringe at the sweet boy as he was excited to show you it. you eventually settled with the heart while he got the key. you know since he had the key to your heart. pained you to stay out loud but his bright smile made it worth it. he literally never takes it off he doesn’t even bother to shove the necklace into his shirt he always has it out on display. the necklaces were actually somewhat subtle whenever the two of you were apart but whenever anyone saw the two of you it finally made sense. you could never tell your sweet boy no whenever he brought something new and cheesy to match. …even if it meant wearing ridiculous tee shirts.

honestly… Hiragi ᡣ𐭩 didn’t see the point in matching. not that he’d ever say that out loud. he does whatever you want but he genuinely didn’t understand why couples would match or what it’s supposed to signify… if it even has a meaning? he definitely isn’t too experienced in the dating department let alone in a relationship that actually shows a lot of affection. no matter how silly the item was or how out of character it was in comparison to him he would never reject any gift of yours. he also sure as hell would never even let anyone dare to make a funny comment about it either. especially not in front of you. he most likely has hit the boys a couple of times for trying to tease him about it in front of you. they would quickly get shut down by catching an elbow to their gut. nonetheless, as much as he tried to avoid it from happening he caught himself also starting to like the concept of it little by little as the days went on.

matching with Kiryu ᡣ𐭩 had a more sentimental effect to it. especially since you two were quite picky about it. it wasn’t something you two did often or really planned out. that’s what made the matching heart lockets you got on your anniversary so special. when you opened them up they were customized with a special message you two secretly made for one another on one side and the other side had a photo. Kiryu was a romantic he couldn’t help fidgeting with the locket in his spare time and glancing at the photo of you in it every couple hours. your cheesy smile in it would bring a subtle blush to his cheeks and he would remember the exact moment he first had taken that photo. not to mention it was a huge pick me up booster whenever he felt the tiniest bit down. all he had to do was look in his locket and he would find the motivation to go on with his day with ease.

Togame ᡣ𐭩 found it cute whenever he noticed you begun to copy his style. he found it funny how you began to look like a mini him by stealing his hoodies and shirts. soon enough he started to learn more about what looks good on you and flatters you. he loves how you look in the oversized streetwear style, he thinks you look cool but will never say it to your face in order to keep you humbled. last thing he wants is for your ego to skyrocket and for you to rub it in his face that you look better in his style than he does. even though he knows it’s the truth. anyway if you really think about it, you only look cool because you’re wearing his stuff so he should take the credit for it. however, now whenever he shops he tends to buy two of the same item since he can’t help but imagine how much cooler you’d look with him on your side. so in the end matching was technically his idea and you never caught on to the fact that you two were matching a lot until you started to receive compliments about how cute it was.

matching with Choji ᡣ𐭩 was subtle in a way that no one really even knows or realizes the two of you have matching items. the only ones who know about it are you two and you both don’t mind that. you both have matching items such as plushies, random items, or room decor. you both had a lot of the same interests and would accidentally buy each other the same items for the holidays or as gifts. it was funny as it was never intentional. there were so many times where the two of you would purchase something for one another and had to fight back the urge to keep it for yourself. only to find out that the other got you the exact same thing anyway. you both know each other so well sometimes it felt like you were the same person. it’s surprising how no one has even noticed that you two constantly wear the exact same pair of headphones everyday. yes. you both gifted each other the same style headphones in the exact same color.

[starsofarda]

And we are now going on with my "Mae joins the Fellowship" series.

We are now moving on from Lothlorien :D Also, IDK if I am correct or not, but I am fairly sure that Galadriel got a lot of inheritance from the Elven kingdoms, at least the items that were not destroyed/seized by Morgoth and Sauron.

I will be followinga bit of a heartcanon here, for Mae's gifts.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

AO3 link

Also, tiny legendarium:

ᴛʏᴘᴇᴅ: ʟᴇɢᴏʟᴀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ꜱʏʟᴠᴀɴ ᴅɪᴀʟᴇᴄᴛ

Italic: Sindarin

Bold: Khuzdul

Bold red: Ancient Khuzdul

𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒: 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝓃𝓎𝒶

And time passed by in Lothlorien, until the Fellowship, with the loss of Gandalf and the acquisition of Maedhros Feanorion, had to leave Lothlorien and continue the Quest.

A lot had happened in that realm, and a lot more still had to come, but at the moment they all would be having a little bit of peace. When Galadriel gathered the Fellowship and the entire Court for goodbyes, everyone was wondering what would happen next.

Maedhros in particular, whilst he and Galadriel were not on forgiving terms, seemed to wonder.

And Galadriel had gifts with her, at that point, and she had already started speaking in the tongue he had learned was called "Westron" - he could catch a couple of words here and there, if anthing staying with the halflings and hearing their constant chattering had had the benefit of carving at least some basic words into his brain.

He did have to stop at Gimli's gift - the Dwarf seemed quite enamoured of the Lady of the Galadhrim, something he had changed mind over during his permanence in Lothlorien. A good thing, maybe this would be a starting point to stop any nonsensical issue between Elves and Dwarves.

Galadriel spoke to Gimli gently. "And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?"

He saw Gimli hesitate and then speak - he would have to ask Aragorn to translate it later.

"There is nothing, Lady Galadriel', said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. 'Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire."

Maedhros heard the shocked gasps, however he did not know Westron to say what was going on.

And then he saw Galadriel unbraiding her hair and give Gimli three strands of her hair.

Oh, if Feanor had been there.

Maedhros left out a stifled laughter - yeah, that he was understanding very well. Everyone turned towards him, trying to see if everything was alright - but it appeared to be something only he and Galadriel understood, hence no one pressed further, waiting instead for things to be explained at a later time.

"Maedhros Feanorion." He heard Galadriel call him. Her tone was calm, devoid of any contempt or resentment.

"Galadriel, Lady of the Galadhrim." He replied in the same tone - solemn, void of any resentment or contempt.

Somehow she felt different, as if she had diminished. He gave her a look, trying to see what was the deal, and she caught on that. She made a vague gesture. "Let us leave this at a quick 'I passed the test'."

Maedhros nodded. There would be time to enquire.

Galadriel kept speaking. "I have clothed you and gave you knowledge of the times that have gone by since your death. However, that is not all."

Her attendants brought forward her gifts.

"To you I give you a mighty sword - you should know the previous owner. It was salvaged and I kept it, no more than a relic of a past I would rather not mention here."

And as Maedhros unveiled the sword, he knew.

He absolutely knew.

That had been Fingon's sword, exactly as he remembered it. If he focused, he could almost feel again Fingon's presence, he almost could smell again the eagle feathers and feel the gentle touch on his aching body - he looked at Galadriel with all emotions he could feel in that moment, anger, sadness, relief, confusion.

Galadriel nodded. "May this sword be a guide to you, as he had been in life."

Maedhros just nodded. That was not the moment, he told himself, this all could wait, as he compartmentalized his feelings. He was also given a crossbow that would fit on the arm where he had not a hand anymore, light and practical, and a dagger for extreme situations.

Then Galadriel spoke to him once again. "This Quest is meant to rid the world of the Enemy. It appears you have still a role to play and this time may no Oath or Doom be with you. Instead, may you bring with you Hope and Companionship."

Easier said than done. Maedhros just said: "Thank you."

And with that the Fellowship left, Maedhros in the boat with Merry and Pippin.

As they made the first stop, Merry and Pippin immediately went to ask him. "Sir Maedhros Elf, we clearly saw you laugh, what was so funny?"

And as Aragorn wearily translated the uestion, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "𝒜𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓇𝓃, 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽, 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝑔𝑒?"

And once Aragorn had agreed, Maedhros explained how his father had also asked for a strand of Galadriel's hair, three times. And how funny and ironic was the whole ordeal.

He quickly added, to Gimli: "Worry not, Master Dwarf. I know you deserve them. There shall be no hatred here."

"No offence taken. I know you were a very upright lad."

"No one would refer to me as upright, but I appreciate your words."

And then the Hobbits got curious about the sword. "We thought Elves only used bows and arrows."

Once again Aragorn translated. Maedhros replied. "𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓎… 𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃'𝓈 𝓈𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹."

"Oh, you miss him."

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒲𝑒… 𝒲𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒."

The conversation was cut short as both Maedhros and Legolas turned towards the forest.

"ᴏʀᴄꜱ. ᴡᴇ'ᴅ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ɢᴏ." Legolas said and Maedhros nodded.

And the Fellowship went back on the boats, trying to lose the Orcs for the time being.

The journey was still quite long and full of danger, but this time it felt slightly different, as if hope, the tiny fragment everyone had been holding on, had started shining brighter - yes, even brighter than a Silmaril, Maedhros surprised himself in thinking.

It would be fine.

This time no one would die, no one would fail.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance���not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> To: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> To: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it? 

fin.

[theamazingaxleyax]

Reblogging this with my updated T.B.o.B. plans and where some of this will come into play.

Piebald will be featured eventually. My reasoning for why she hasn't appeared is because she's traveling currently

The relatives and spirits will play a role. (Lore drop for my AU, but due to April being possessed by Karai, and Mikey being.... Mikey, they are especially in tune with the spiritual plane)

Oh there are plenty of Hidden cities. There's definitely one in Japan that will be featured. And, if I choose to add a couple of other characters, one in Louisiana

Donnie being averse to certain types textures will be based on my own sensory issues because, well, that's what I have the most experience with. (Funnily enough, a lot of the stuff he displays having issues with are VERY similar to my own)

Sunita will be there, and nobody can stop me, and yes, her and Donnie will be besties. All three of them are the members of the April O'Neil Dorky Pals For Life, although Sunita isn't as dorky.

As for the Donnie medic thing, I personally believe that Donnie himself helps Leo with medic-ing. Donnie is the backup medic in case Leo is out of commission. He knows the procedures, but when it comes to blood? He cannot deal with that, or any other bodily fluids for that matter unless he absolutely HAS to.

Mayhem will there. He's my baby, and it's a crime that he's overlooked so much.

Hueso Jr! Okay, so, I am aware that Leo says something about Jr. being in college or something, but I can't get over like... a little 9 to 11 year old skele-kid that absolutely ADORES Leo, and wants to be just like him. Also, screw you, this is my AU, I do what I want. (This is a MAJOR /j, I love you guys.)

I want to give Usagi more than being Leo's love interest, so I'm moving his introduction back a bit. (Mostly so I can do my research on him so I can create an accurate Rise version of him)

Same thing with the comic characters

I definitely plan on adding characters from other iterations. (If you didn't see the authors note on chapter 1, I plan on eventually adding Tim into the equation, thank PineTreeVillain and CupcakeSlushie for ruining my aro Donnie hc lol) And, being completely honest, I only know like... three things about 2003 LH, but I already completely and utterly adore him, so he will very likely be added.

Mikey will indeed get a pet cat. In fact, he gets two! One will be the stereotypical orange tabby. Energetic chaos, and has -1 braincells. The other is, again, a stereotypical black cat. Solitary, and spooky. Orange boys name is Klunk, and black girls name is Salem. Salem was a gift from April, and Klunk was a stray cat that Raph brought home and gave to Mikey. Until he gets those two though, he helps Repo take care of Ms. Nubbins. (I'd like to imagine that thanks to Mikey, Repo can now let Ms. Nubbins wander around the junkyard freely without the fear of her eating someone.

The sibling interactions will be very heavily based on my own interactions with my siblings. And that includes giving kisses goodnight because showing affection is a VERY big thing in my family, and I can tell that that's the case as well with the Rise sibs. (Or at least Mikey)

And lastly BIG MAMA REDEMPTION ARC!!! By the time the main timeline for T.B.o.B. has started, Big Mama had her redemption arc already, BUT I plan on writing a oneshot/short story for her redemption, just like I did Hypno. (Though hers might be a bit more narrative than Hypno's)

Ideas/things I think are underutilized in rottmnt fanworks:

-Piebald

-Leo’s “lucky rock” (air turtle ep. for reference)

-the fact that Big mama willingly participated in the “doom dome” and maybe even at the Nexus at one point

-Lou Jitsu’s past and relatives

-the multitude of spirits seen in the s2 finale

-mystic trinkets and artifacts (you can never have too many!)

-yokai background characters

-the hidden city seemingly being run by fear (mobsters, power, etc.)

-more hidden cities outside of NY

-Baron Draxum being driven to a villain role only because he sought to protect the yokai race (he isn’t all that evil)

-Leo’s disgust of romance (…at least develop Leo into a romance role…)

-Donnie isn’t averse to EVERYTHING goopy and weird. (Like the yokai pizza he ate w/Leo in “operation: normal” and the Joey pouch he sat in with Leo in “hidden city job”)

-Sunita. look, she clearly has a taste for fashion (the fashion turtle pointed THAT out) and she chose to go into SCIENCE/biology class, out of many options. She would be besties with Donnie.

-those crab brothers

-tmnt iteration crossovers (there isn’t enough out there)

-Donnie (probably) being the medic (y’all are gonna hate me for this. But. I honestly don’t see that much to support medic Leo. it makes an excellent headcanon though! It looks like Donnie designed the entire medbay and patented the suits and whatnot in “down with the sickness”. Also he started spewing medical-talk when unmutated piebald fell out of the fishbowl.

-MAYHEM

-Senor Hueso’s son (Hueso Jr?)

-other Yojimbo/samurai rabbit characters! I’m tired of ONLY seeing usagi. Where’s gen? Chizu? Katsuichi? At least do your research y’all pleassseee. At least read a wiki page because so many usagis I’m seeing are so ooc that he’s just there to be Leo’s love interest. Cmon.

-Draxum’s son sloppy joe(seph)

-Characters from the rottmnt comics.

-Battle Nexus monsters (Lou Jitsu mostly fought hydras, big creatures, etc.)

-Renet!!!

-other characters from pre-existing tmnt iterations (Rocksteady, leatherhead, tigerclaw, Lita, Bebop, I could go on….)

-the turtles adopting a cat (rise Mikey hasn’t had the best of luck with cats though)

-space adventures! Triceratons! Aliens! Robots! please

-sibling kisses. Hugs and stuff. Now.

-Big Mama redemption arc??? I still haven’t seen one. She was actually pretty close to redemption towards the finale. We haven’t seen her in the movie, so who knows?

[exhelluvafan]

The thing that irritates me the most about Helluva Boss is the adamant need to waste any potential for depth in every character. The thing that stops me from abandoning this train wreck of a show and feeling total apathy for it is its wasted potential.

TOO MUCH FUCKING WASTED POTENTIAL.

And obviously, the elephant in the room, aka the blatant misogyny and double standards because viv is writing yaoi so the fans could consume the emotional uwu moments and porn. SO MUCH PORN DAMN IT.

And the thing that eats away at me is the characters such as stolas and stella had such an easy chance to be morphed into something so deep that the show could be a soap opera about their drama alone.

In my humble opinion, the Goetia demons shouldn't have been in this show at all. They belong in a show like Hazbin that's showcasing the upper echelon of hell. This should've been about IMP, but I'm not ripping that one bandaid off because the wound under it is a biohazard. Anyway, I wanted to offer a rewrite for the 😍 lovely poor uwu baby Stolas and his DEMON, BITCH OF A WIFE, Stella. (Yeah, the sarcasm's strong with this one)

First of all I love how her name means star 🌟. It ties in together nicely with the whole astrology aesthetic of the family. We're gonna ignore the born-to-be-a-bitch personality the show presented her as having and focus on what caused her issues.

First of all, she probably knew from a young age that she was going to be wed off into an arranged marriage (just like stolas), and she knew she had the responsibility of birthing an heir. That's going to affect how she views love and marriage in general. She'd see it as a transaction, that she can offer an heir and her body, and receive what she wants. I have no problem with her being a spoiled brat, a mean girl. In fact, take it up a notch. She can be both of that! She was probably given every materialistic thing she wanted since the day she was born other than love and affection. That probably made her narcissistic and selfish, with the "I get everything that I want and you can't stop me" attitude.

She's a party girl, and we stand for that. She seems to be very extroverted and outgoing, and that clashes with stolas' more subdued and introverted personality.

I see her as being EXTREMELY paranoid about appealing to the high society that she's a part of and keeping herself at the top of the food chain amongst other aristocrats, unlike stolas who only does it to keep face or avoid getting too much attention, she wants to be noticed ans seen. Her gossipy, high society friends also reinforce the fact that she never had normal friends who cared about her, and she never grew out of her mean girl phase.

I see her as someone with so much passion in her heart, and sadly, we had to see all that turned into rage. She has trouble controlling her temper and the constant rage that boils inside her, and she explodes and lashes out on people, especially stolas.

I see her going into a marriage with stolas with the same "I'll get what I want" attitude. He has power, money, and legions to his name, and he isn't necessarily bad looking. So stella is like, "Eh, might as well..."

He isn't her dream partner, but she goes into the marriage thinking she can mould him into her dream man. Or thinking he's meek enough to leave her on her own, or she could even manipulate him to do as she pleases. None of those go as planned, though.

.

.

.

I can lowky see her dragging him around as she shops and him just wanting to die inside, lol

Oh my, Anon, this quite a lot of words, but I actually really love your rewrite, I can see Stella actually watching Mean Girls while Stolas dies inside and just stares at the infinite lmao

But sadly, this is a Viv show, and you know that women in these kinds of shows aren't allowed to have any nuance beyond a one-note use or personality trait, unless they're stepping stools for the male cast, which in that case, they're allowed to have a bit more of depth, but not too much.

And yeah, actually, now that you mention it, the Goetia demons shouldn't have been in Helluva, if anything, they should've been shown on Hazbin, like you said, because we are following along a protagonist that was born in royalty (Charlie) and it would make a lot of sense to see the Goetia demons there, since it would be a royal meetup or something like that.

And lastly, about the porn... I can corroborate this since a lot of the designs made by Viv or by her team look... conventionally attractive, so conventional that's artificial and try hard at times, and also, pretty safe but sometimes pushing the limits a bit to pander to gay people (Vortex, Asmodeus and Satan, to name a few muscular characters that are quite popular, but also Moxxie, Chaz and Striker, also popular in the gay side of the fandom) but it always boils down to the same purpose: to get people horny, and this is exemplified so painfully clear when Loona shook her ass towards the camera in one of the episodes, turning out to be shameless furry bait, and when I say that these shows are gooning and softcore porn shows, it's because of deliberate shit like this.

But alas, thanks for your input, Anon, it's greatly appreciated and it's quite the palette cleanser to see someone competent pick up Viv's mess and restructure it into something actually compelling and nuanced.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

Hey, I read your post about the harmful impact of saying "going nonverbal" and the like. As a low-needs autistic person who has speech loss episodes, it was really helpful in educating me on circumstances that I never considered, and I really appreciate that!

I have a bit of a question, and if you feel uncomfortable answering for whatever reason, feel free to delete this ask. I also apologize in advance if I say anything disrespectful, and if you can correct me on those things I will be glad to hear it so I can learn to be better.

I have DID and therefore am part of a system. We are all autistic, though we each showcase symptoms differently. Some of our alters showcase symptoms more severely than others, in that they cannot speak and cannot communicate their needs because of various reasons (severe dissociation with body, trauma response, etc). Since I now know nonverbal isn't an appropriate term for us, I'm wondering if you have any thoughts on how we can describe those headmates. I'm not sure if they fully fit saying that they have "speech loss episodes", because they are fully unable to communicate at all times (even with the rest of us), though they are not always "in the driver's seat" of the body, so to speak. What do you think would be an appropriate term for them? (I know this might be a bit out-of-bounds of your experience as it's more about dissociative disorders than autism, but if you have any insight, that would be great! I definitely don't want to be using the wrong terminology.)

Again, apologies if this is in any way disrespectful. I see now what you mentioned in your post about how true nonverbal folks are drowned out by folks with speech loss episodes, so I figured it would be best to ask you directly, but if you are unable to answer for whatever reason, feel free to delete this ask! No worries.

We hope you're having a nice day!

no worries, not out of bounds for own experience

yep, you exactly right that alter / headmate / system member / etc who can’t mouth speak in system that can mouth speak, is not nonverbal. even if feel like or is own separate person, even if don’t have so called body verbality because so blendy. — just like how alter who can’t hear in hearing system not Deaf, how darker alter in white skin system not Black or Brown or Asian etc. (though these also continue be issue in system community) — n really glad you noticed (genuine)

personally find best n clearest say “[alter] cannot speak”.

have heard people try coin new adjective identity words for this experience. can look those up if want, but for me they 1) too many n confusing n new n thus inaccessible to keep up so don’t, 2) niche micro label which have its purpose n you may or may not find useful, but in situation of limited communication n time, give unheard of term you then have to define take more time n effort than just quick “can’t speak”, 3) some of them suspiciously way too close to “nonverbal” “nonspeaking”

thank you for question!

[dorianbrightmusic]

Earlier on, I saw a pretty bad take on whether autism is a disability. Since said take was part of a post that had been derailed some time earlier, I’m posting this separately. Thank you to @neurodivergent-willowfor a concise and excellent response to the bad take earlier on.

Ok - let’s make something clear: Autism is a lifelong neurodevelopmental disability. (The ‘developmental’ bit, by the way, means lifelong.)

Since the take I saw used nonverbal people as an example of ‘why autism can be disabling for some people’, I wanna quickly say: Many autistic people are nonverbal and require support accordingly. Nonverbal autistic people typically have higher support needs. Being nonverbal is both disabling in and of itself, and usually associated with a greater level of baseline disability. But even when autistic people are not nonverbal, they are still disabled. If your view is that autism is only disabling because of being nonverbal, you are misunderstanding autism as a whole.

Autism, by definition, involves a combined disability of social communication, restrictive/repetitive behaviours, and usually (but not always) sensory issues.

Re social communicative issues, we struggle with social reciprocity (criterion A1) - oftentimes a pragmatic language deficit - and with nonverbal communication (criterion A2). These result in difficulties maintaining relationships (criterion A3).

I’ve seen people attempt to explain these via the social model of disability (usually bastardising the social model to ‘neurotypicals don’t understand us’). But even if society were accommodating, or if double empathy explained everything (which it doesn’t - and it doesn’t account well for nonverbal autistics), the social communicative issues would still be there. And the diagnostic criteria do not specify the nature of the social communicative disabilities. A1 may be struggling with speech altogether for some autistic people, while for others may involve turn-taking, for others tone, and so on. A2 might be an eye contact alone for some people, while it might be a total inability to discern nonverbal cues altogether for others. Criterion A is defined by there being a disability in social communication. Autism is heterogenous in part because the nature of that disability does not matter - the important bit is that there is a disability.

Criterion B requires at least two of the following: intense but restricted interests, difficulty with change and transition, repetitive and restrictive behaviours, and sensory processing issues. All of these are inherently disabling. Yes, you can derive strengths from the mindset that accompanies them - sure, special interests can be great - but they also heavily limit what we can do in life. (I’ve seen special interests used qs an example of a non-disability - but the thing is, having difficulty engaging with other material is inherently going to limit what you do and think about in life. Which is pretty disabling.) Again, the nature of these disabilities does not matter, so long as they are present and not explained by another condition.

I have relatively mild autism, and I need relatively little support for it. But even when I use my accommodations, I’m still goddamn disabled. My social communicative issues, even if they’re part of my personality, still impair me considerably. I have been taken advantage of due to them, and I have also been horrible to other people due to my literal-mindedness and inability to ‘read the room’. Even though I’m trying not to hurt people, I will always be running up against invisible social walls. My repetitive behaviours and sensory issues are worse again. I get so frustrated without a schedule that I’m liable to slip into depression in the holidays. I get so frightened by loud noises that I scream when someone knocks on the door gently. My pain processing - which is, by the way, the most common area of sensory processing dysfunction in autism - is screwed up badly enough that I find normal light touch painful, and my muscles randomly hurt all the time. The medication I take for this has been correlated with a higher risk of dementia in future. My repetitive/restrictive behaviours have become BFRBs - for about a decade, I’ve picked my skin for an about an hour a day, if not longer. This has resulted in countless infections, as well as one wound deep enough that I had to go to urgent care, as I had destroyed every single skin layer and possibly the fascia below. Given that I always have open wounds, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go swimming.

Here in Australia, my autism is considered mild enough that I’m not eligible for the NDIS (our main government disability support service). But it is still a disability that affects every area of my life.

I’ve seen people on social media try to say that neurodivergences aren’t disabilities, but just differences, and then apply this argument to autism. This is bad logic, as not all neurodivergences are the same. And this is also terrible logic, because the neurodivergence movement is fundamentally a disability rights movement. It’s never been about ‘we’re different, not disabled’ – rather, the foundation of neurodivergence is that ‘disabilities of the nervous system, neural development, and mental health are all part of the natural variation of human life’. That’s it. It’s literally an extension of the disability rights precept that disability is part of the natural variation of human life.

If your understanding of disability states that autism can’t be a disability because it has good bits, you are disregarding much of the disability rights movement as a whole. Disability is a neutral concept. Disability is when your health means you can’t do certain things. That’s it. It’s not inherently bad, although people who resent their disabilities are in their right to do so. Consider how the Deaf community talk about Deaf gains, for example – advantages and perks associated with their disability. Also consider Deaf culture as an example of the complexity and richness of disability as a concept. If physical disabilities can be neutral, and if physical disabilities can be things that many people wouldn’t change about themselves, the same goes for mental and neurodevelopmental disabilities. So you can absolutely appreciate the good parts of autism and still say that it is a disability.

Also: I wanna point out that a huge number of autistic people are disabled by other things as well. From memory, about 30-40% of autistic people have intellectual disability. That’s a lot of autistic people. As well as that, consider the association between autism and apraxia of speech, specific learning disabilities, motor issues, connective tissue disorders, agenesis of the corpus callosum, etc. Consider how many of us develop mental illness – consider the association, in particular, with schizophrenia spectrum disorders and eating disorders. Also consider the fact that about 25% of autism is syndromic – that is, it appears in concert with another condition. These syndromic autism condition include: Down syndrome, Fragile X syndrome, neurofibromatosis, Rett syndrome, Tuberous sclerosis, callosal disorders, and so many others.

Autism is a disability. Even if it weren’t, it’s usually accompanied by other disabilities. Even if you don’t feel disabled by your own autism, the condition itself is still a disability.

[monsterdoll14]

I wrote something for this! Beneath the cut so it’s not a giant block on somebody’s page. But it really liked this idea! @beneathsilverstars

You're sitting in your car, staring at a clock with all the power your, admittedly tiny, body possesses. You said you would arrive at her house at four, but you showed up at three thirty! Which is way too early to show up at someone's house so they could drink your blood, are you crazy? Madam Odile was going to think you were so weird, stars!

You take a deep breath in, and out. You repeat the motion two more times as you wait for the clock to tick. Two minutes to four o’clock, and maybe it was okay to show up a minute earlier but what if it wasn't!? You couldn't risk that! She might refuse to drink your blood if you offended her, and then you wouldn't get paid and then you couldn't pay rent…

Okay, you could wait two more minutes. You glance at the clock again, and it's already 4:03. Where have you been the past five minutes?!

You jump out the car, steady yourself, and hurry towards the front door.

“Donating” blood to vampires for money is a pretty common practice, since they usually pay pretty well and don't need to take too much blood. You can donate a couple times a month without any major health issues . Plus, with agencies dedicated to organizing blood matches between humans and vampires, it's not a particularly dangerous job. It's also proven to be the only job you can keep.

Of course it is, though. You're a human blood bag. There's not much to screw up as long as you stay still and don't act like a creep.

The match you're currently freaking out about is with a middle aged woman named Odile, who seemed decently wealthy by the size of her house and the fact she can afford rent in this economy. You envy her the tiniest bit about that last one.

She opened the door, looking exactly the same as her photos, and you smile at her.

“Nice to meet you! I'm Siffrin, I'm your donor for today!” Customer service mode, on!

She gives you a quick once over before nodding at something and moving to let you in, “Odile. Please come in.”

You hop over the doorway and carefully take off your shoes before you follow her to her couch. Thank the stars, you didn't really feel comfortable anywhere else. Bedroom was… weird, and the kitchen felt like you were just a piece of meat. Not that that was particularly inaccurate, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling bad about it.

You sit on the couch where Odile gestures for you and take off your gloves. They are kinda scratchy, but you don't want to have to deal with strangers giving you weird looks about the marks lining your wrist. Odile doesn't comment on them, which is yet another win!

“So, how would you like to–”

“One moment.” Odile holds up a hand and walks away. You sit awkwardly on the couch, gloves off, waiting for her. Your skin starts to crawl a bit. She wasn't just going to leave you here,be right? You couldn't possibly have screwed up already. Unless he saw the marks on your wrist and thought you were some sort of weirdo who enjoyed getting bitten by vampires–oh, stars, what if she thought you were some sort of perverted creep? Should you leave? What if–

“Alright, I'm back. Is apple juice ok? I don't have any iron supplements, that was thoughtless of me. My apologies.”

Uh. you… didn't usually get something to drink when you did this..? You kept stuff in your car since you tended to get kicked out the moment you were finished. You could hardly blame any of those people, you didn't like strangers in your house either. Even if you did tend to need to wait alone in your car until you weren't woozy anymore, and your heating/cooling systems gave out a while ago…

Crab, you forgot to respond, “that's fine! Uh, thank you!”

Odile nods and makes her way over to you, setting the glass on a coaster on the table. She sits a bit away from you, which is appreciated but also slightly disappointing. You offer her your wrist. Better not to give her an option in case she tries your neck. The last time someone did that it was… a lot of touch from a stranger,

She takes it carefully in her hand, and you flinch a bit. She's holding you so, so carefully it's almost ticklish. She pauses, long enough for you to recollect yourself.

“Have you washed your hands?” she asks. Pretty common question, should not make you feel as dirty as it does.

“Yes ma’am.” You watch as she nods, mostly to herself, then sinks her teeth into your vein. You flinch again but she holds your wrist just firmly enough that the skin doesn't tear on her fangs. Thank the universe, you could not bleed all over her furniture. You didn't even have a couch at your house, but you knew how expensive they were. You wait, perfectly still even when you start to get a bit dizzy, enjoying the gentle touch on your wrists and odd intoxicated feeling you got whenever a vampire bites you.

… Which is disgusting, you shouldn't feel that way. This was a business transaction, stop being weird. It wasn't meant to be pleasant.

Odile finishes surprisingly quickly, pulling off and pressing a black towel to your wrist. You take it from there, holding the towel with one hand as you eye your apple juice. You definitely want a drink now, but you don't know when she’s going to ask you to leave.

She nudges it towards you, and you carefully accept. Geez, she didn't take much, but you've already donated a couple times this month. You feel woozier than usual.

“You should wait an hour or two before you leave,” Odile comments, standing and walking out, “it'll be late then, but I don't have anything to give you for dinner, as you can imagine. I hope you don't mind.”

An hour… or two? The longest you usually even needed was thirty minutes. Was this Odile’s first time doing this? But you can't imagine she was turned recently if she didn't bother keeping food in the house. Not to mention the illegal nature of being turned in the first place. It still happened, but it wasn't very common? Most were just born vampires these days.

“Well?” Odile's standing in front of you, stars! You needed to stop zoning out! What did she even say…?

“Yes, ma’am,” you mumble, hoping it's the right answer. There's no adverse response, so you think it's probably fine? She sits on an armchair next to you, far enough away that she couldn't grab you but close enough that she can watch you comfortably. She takes out a book and begins to read, and you sip your apple juice in bafflement. What was she even doing? …did she want seconds?

… You don't think you have it in you to give any more blood tonight. If she asks, you don't think you can really refuse, but you really don't want to. You reach for your gloves.

“Don't you need bandages?” she asks, arching her eyebrows.

You pause, gloves in hand, and need a second before you can fully process what she said, “not… really? I don't have any on hand, anyway.” You slump a little at the effort it takes to form coherent responses; which is probably cause for concern. Geez, you're tired.

“Hm. I'll remember next time, then.” Ah, so she was a repeat customer. You got those sometimes, but they usually didn't linger for fear of forming an actual connection with a human of all things. There's another pause before Odile speaks again, “why are you doing this? So often, too.”

That was a question you received pretty often, even from the quietest of vampires. To be fair, Odile didn't seem chatty to be exact, but apparently she had a curious streak.

“Well… the pay is good,” you tell her, cradling your drink. And it's the only way anyone will ever touch me, remains unsaid.

“Hm. money problems, then?” she asks, tone distant. Seems like she's already lost interest. You zone out a bit, then realize you should probably say something in response.

“...I've got plenty in the bank, just not the blood kind” you mumble, not particularly paying attention.

Odile laughs.

…

…oh!

You made her laugh!

A dazed smile makes its way onto your face. You feel warm, and there are little fireworks in your stomach because you made her laugh! This means she definitely doesn't hate you, right? Sure, she was gentle earlier, but that's a bit of a requirement with the more finicky veins. Can't have you bleeding out and ruining her nice furniture. But! You made her laugh! So even if she thinks you're gross for being this desperate for money, she probably doesn't hate you too much!

… or does she? Maybe this time was just a fluke. You should probably try again so you can be extra sure she doesn't hate you. Just in case. Something about blood, or banks, or vampires… but what if you offended her!? Most vampires didn't like your jokes!

You should be a little more vague. Just to be safe.

“Um, how many apples grow on a tree?” you ask, gesturing to your drink a bit. Odile gives you a confused look.

“Pardon?”

“All of them!” you tell her, grinning. She purses her lips, but doesnt look particularly annoyed. More confused, which was not the reaction you were going for.

“I… see.”

Quick, try again, “sorry, I tried to make a joke, but there were no fruits to my labor!”

Odile snorts at that one, turning the page of her book, “I see. You poor thing.”

You giggle, and she shakes her head at your next few attempts to make her laugh. Regardless, an hour later you're feeling much better and leave. You don't even have to sit in your car very long before you feel safe to drive, which is good because the cold has gotten a lot worse over the past few days. You should start carrying heat pads.

I continued this on AO3 with the name “Damothgremlin” in case you’re interested! It’s called In Blood Bags And Time.

thinkign about odile with fangies,,

au where odile is a vampire and siffrin "donates blood" for money (classic occupation for someone lonely and hopeless) and siffrin says something funny while woozily recovering and odile did NOT expect that from him and laughs and siffrin is like. oh fuck yes i'm getting a good grade in being vampire food.

it's not even a purposeful dumb joke he's just a little out of it and saying things. which odile usually gets annoyed when people go all no-filter and say things to her that she is not interested in hearing or god forbid having to respond to. but siffrin is just being cute and earnest and still not too chatty!

and then siffrin is like I MADE HER LSUGH I HAVE TO KEEP BEING FUNNY and his actual attempts at jokes are so weak that they wrap back around to being entertaining. odiles like mhm im sure there was a joke in there somewhere maybe try again in twenty minutes.

they're going through an agency at first, but odile gets annoyed at how large of a cut the agency takes, but it's easier and safer than trying to arrange something with a stranger independently. but she really likes siffrin so after a couple times she's like. no pressure but if you'd rather get paid a little more we could just continue doing this informally. and siffrin is like YES PLEASE bc they really need the money and they like odile too!

but then siffrin starts donating too much blood bc he's still going through the agency as often as allowed And going to odile independently. it's pretty obvious pretty quickly though, and as soon as she catches on odile lectures them and says she won't keep doing this if siffrin won't take care of themself, and siffrin gets all sad (<- hates to be rejected) and is like oh.. ok.. guess i'll leave... and odile is like oh my god no you still have to drink your orange juice first and you should not have even driven HERE in the first place. *i* will drive you home. which has siffrin all ?? bc wow mixed messages (<- has never been cared about before). but odile finds out that siffrin lives in the shittiest apartment ever and is always this close away from getting evicted and long story short siffrin ends up moving in with odile.

odile is like. well. this is kind of a problematic setup but definitely better than the alternative.