#And she was complaining whenever I wanted time off

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[em-ontv]

Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

[forsetti]

On American Exceptionalism: Stupid Is As Stupid Does

“We are drowning in information but starved for knowledge.” -John Naisbitt

Right after the 2016 election, the dominant hot take from pundits was Hillary lost because Democrats failed to understand Rural America. This explanation was complete nonsense. Liberals who grew up or lived/live in Rural America very much understand them. That wasn’t the problem. As I wrote about at the time, the problem with Rural America was/is the racism and misogyny that are deeply embedded in their culture and religion and their willingness to all these to dictate their choices, even at their own expense.

Here we are eight years later and with Kamala Harris’ loss to Trump, the stupid hot takes are again flying off the shelves. This time around, the reason for Trump winning was Democrats didn’t care about the working class. As with “Dems don’t understand Rural America,” the reasons behind why Trump won were racism, misogyny, and stupidity. “Dems don’t care about the working class,” is a flat-out lie, no matter who says it, (I’m looking at you Bernie Sanders.) All the evidence shows America has done better than every other major country responding to the pandemic and EVERY economic indicator is better now than just about any time in the past fifty years regarding unemployment, job creation, DOW, wage growth… Trump’s reelection showed how much facts and evidence don’t matter in America.

As long as people “feel” a certain way, that is all that matters. Any argument that hinges on “feelings,” or “vibes,” is intellectual laziness at its finest. Why do people feel a certain way? Are these feelings justified? These questions are completely ignored or quickly glossed over because no one wants to know or discuss the answers to these questions.

No one wants to discuss why a large number of Americans are willing to believe a Five-Star, chronic liar. No one wants to know why these same people are willing to vote for a self-serving billionaire who has a long record of fucking over working-class people who have done work for him. No one wants to know why “good Christians,” happily support an adulterer who paid off a porn star not to divulge he had sex with her four months after his wife gave birth to their youngest child. No one wants to ask why these same, “good Christians,” are gleeful about fucking over immigrants and asylum seekers. No one really wants to know why Republicans are hell-bent on stripping women of rights and economic opportunities. No one really wants to admit that “The Greatest Nation On Earth,” “The Shining Beacon On The Hill,” and “God’s Country,” is very much racist, misogynist, and really stupid.

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it." -Agent K

People are generally stupid. Stupid people are easy to manipulate, especially when it comes to their feelings. Most of the “feelings” about “economic anxiety,” are rooted in racism, bigotry, and misogyny.

In America, truth and evidence have been replaced with feelings and vibes because it takes no effort to feel something, to believe something. It takes a lot of work to understand and know something. There are too many Americans who are intellectually lazy and poorly educated and are either convinced they are smart or know they aren’t and overcompensate by gish galloping and talking very loudly. The only thing more dangerous than a stupid person is a stupid person who is convinced they are smart.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had little to no tolerance for stupidity. As a kid, I would often come home from school or church and complain vociferously to my mom about the stupidity I’d encountered. Her advice to me was always, “You can’t fight every battle against stupid people, there are too many of them. Even if you “win” against one, there will always be another to take their place.”

Whenever she would tell me this, it would remind me of something I once heard the population of China was so large and growing so rapidly, that they could walk ten-abreast into the ocean and the line would NEVER end.

That is how I few stupid people. Never ending.

Instead of constantly battling against stupidity, I tried to carve out niches of smartness and sanity wherever I could. It is why I felt the need to leave America and go to Japan for a couple of years. It is why I studied philosophy. It is why I ended up in grad school at a Big 10 school in a very progressive town. It is why I’ve always surrounded myself with a very small but incredibly smart group of friends.

For a long time, this way of dealing with stupidity worked. Then social media brought the stupidity I’d fought so hard to avoid to my door with a vengeance.

Nobody was more excited for the internet than me. I’m an information junkie. My “hobby” as a kid was reading the Encyclopedia Britannica every night until the wee hours of the morning. Having all the information readily available was amazing. At least it was amazing until the Libertarian Tech Bros decided to create social media platforms to “democratize” information and bad-faith actors realized how easily they could manipulate a poorly educated population.

Thomas Jefferson knew that democracy could only truly function and succeed with an educated citizenry. Poorly educated people cannot make truly informed decisions. This is why mentally incompetent people and children cannot enter contracts. It is why people on certain drugs in hospitals are not allowed to make decisions about their health care. A democracy of idiots isn’t a real democracy (and if you tell me America is a Republic, not a democracy, I’ll send a civics teacher to your house to beat you about the head and neck with the largest textbook in their library.)

You can’t have a functioning democratic government with un/misinformed people. The exact thing is true when it comes to “democratizing,” information. It might sound like a good idea to open up information to any and all because good/sound ideas will rise to the top and win out in the end. To quote from, “A Stress Analysis Of A Strapless Evening Gown: Essays For A Scientific Age,” “There goes another wonderful theory about to be murdered by a brutal gang of facts.”

When you “democratize” information you automatically give everything equal weight of legitimacy and truth value. Then, somehow, the right/true things become apparent and win out. This treats facts as opinions. The answer to, “Which is better, Coke or Pepsi?” is not a factual statement. It contains no truth (even though anyone with any taste buds knows the correct answer is, “Coke.”) When scientific theories and data are treated the same as opinions and opinions are treated as facts, we are beyond fucked.

The other thing “democratizing” information either takes for granted, completely ignores, or willfully denies is, in order for their notion of a “free marketplace of ideas,” to work, people need to have the skill sets necessary to properly understand and process the information, in order to make informed decisions.

The tech bros don’t have these skill sets. Libertarians, by nature, are idiots. The best description of Libertarians is from Tom Morrow - “"Libertarians are like house cats: absolutely convinced of their fierce independence while utterly dependent on a system they don't appreciate or understand.” Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg don’t give one fuck about the well-being of people. They care about their egos. They care about how much data about you they can extract to sell to other amoral dicks. They care about how many toys they can buy and how many expensive, unique experiences they can have to brag about to their other equally amoral dick friends.

Truth isn’t contingent on popularity or who has the most followers or poll numbers. To treat truth this way obliterates any and all standards of evidence, validity, and soundness. It does away with the need for truth. To pretend otherwise is to either not understand a functioning view of truth or to understand it and use the destruction of truth to your advantage.

When you combine a completely misguided idea like democratizing information with a poorly educated population, the result is the stupid become proudly and arrogantly stupid. It becomes the perfect breeding ground for conspiracy theories.

Social media sites always kind of were this way but two events really showed just how problematic and dangerous they were: The election of Barack Obama and the pandemic.

The amount of sheer bullshit spread on social media about Obama’s birth certificate and the Affordable Care Act was staggering in volume and stupidity. Stupidity that is still believed as absolute gospel by a good chunk of the right. This really isn’t surprising since many of these same people deeply believe Jesus was white and apparently a vindictive, gun-toting he-man.

However, as stupid and awful as the lies about Obama and the ACA were, they paled in comparison to those spread about the pandemic. The propaganda about the pandemic was unbelievably widespread and very dangerous. Literally, hundreds of thousands of people died from the lies spread, mostly on social media, about COVID-19 and the vaccines.

I have people I know very well and some I love deeply who adamantly believe the stupidest nonsense about the virus and vaccines for no other reason than the propaganda they read/heard on social media, pundits, and their social groups… The more people passed along something they’d heard/read, the more it turned into a very dangerous Purple Monkey Dishwasher situation:

Once people believe untrue things, especially if those things are closely tied to their self-identity, it is almost impossible to unscrew that pooch because it would mean they have to admit they were not just misled and wrong but adamantly so. It takes humility to admit you are wrong. This is why, no matter how many times we are promised that the “Republican Fever,” of Trumpism will break, it will never happen because it isn’t Trumpism, it is Republicanism, and because the right will NEVER FUCKING EVER admit they were wrong about anything, especially if the liberals were right. It just isn’t in their fundamentalist, white supremacist, misogynist, Manifest Destiny DNA.

The past few election cycles have been nothing but a constant barrage of well-designed, well-placed propaganda from bad-faith actors here and abroad. Fear, hatred, lies...all get more attention and traction with people, especially stupid people, than facts and the truth. Anyone who has a basic understanding of human psychology has to know this. The entire field of advertising hinges and relies on people being easily manipulated.

The culmination of decades of underfunding, undercutting, lying about, and demonizing education by the right and the proliferation of social media outlets resulted in the election of the most unqualified, uncaring, self-absorbed, chronic liar to run the world’s largest economy and military not once but twice.

I keep hearing people blame Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris for losing to Trump because, based on who Trump is, “the race should never have been close.” This is a stupid take. It absolutely shouldn’t have been close, either time. The problem wasn’t Hillary or Clinton or anything they did/didn’t do. The problem is Americans are fucking stupid and since America is a representative government, their votes are a direct reflection of who/what they are.

The day right before this year’s election, all the left-wing pod bros and Never Trumpers, to a person, talked about how Kamala ran the most perfect campaign they’d ever seen. The day after the election, every single one of them rushed to get on the “Dems don’t care about the working class” bandwagon like they were trying to get front-row tickets to Taylor Swift.

In my lifetime, ALL of the evidence from jobs created, unemployment, wages, and the DOW… shows Democratic administrations greatly outperform Republican ones. Yet, the narrative has always been that Republicans are better at handling the economy.

Why is there such a gap between facts and feelings when it comes to the economy?

One answer is propaganda. The right has a massive media advantage when it comes to pushing whatever narrative they want. AM radio, FOX NEWS, and Sinclair Corp… do nothing but pump out right-wing talking points all day, every day. If you hear/read nonstop that the economy is in crisis, no matter what the facts are, you will start to believe it. This is why, when Republicans were polled about the economy pre-election, the majority said they were in a good economic situation but the country was not. This also explains why, right after the election, when the “bad economy” propaganda was no longer being pushed, the very same people who claimed the US economy was in shambles a week prior, now think the economy is doing fine.

The same thing is true about crime rates, welfare, immigration… You name it and there has been/is a massive propaganda effort from the right that has made a whole lot of Americans “reprogrammable meatbags” (hat tip Driftglass.)

Let’s just put aside the fact the Biden administration did more for workers than any administration since LBJ and possibly all the way back to FDR. When it comes to Democrats “ignoring the working class,” every single economic crisis in my lifetime happened while a Republican was in the White House. And, every single one of the times this happened, it was a Democratic president who fixed the mess only to be replaced by another Republican who once again fucked up the economy.

The reasons why Trump won in 2016 and again in 2024 had nothing to do with Dem messaging or policies. The reasons are racism, misogyny, widespread propaganda, and Americans are unbelievably stupid. Full stop.

I’m not surprised Trump won again because I understand the American electorate. I’ve also been warning for at least the past three decades that as white, male Americans become less culturally and demographically significant, they are going to do and rationalize whatever it takes to hold onto their artificially created sense of importance and self-worth. They will not just fight like hell to protect what they deem their God-given place in society, they will burn it all to the ground and salt the earth behind them rather than see anyone they deem unworthy get a damn thing.

In one of my undergraduate philosophy classes, I can’t remember which one or the context, one of my professors brought up a hypothetical scenario where a wise king had a difficult choice to make. The public well in the village he ruled over had been tainted and anyone who drank from it went mad. The choice the king had to make was to either not drink from the well and rule over a bunch of raving lunatics or drink and become one of them.

The general consensus among the students was the right choice was for the king to drink the tainted water because, no matter how wise you are, you can’t rule idiots.

I completely disagreed with this and thought the entire thing was a false dilemma (an either/or fallacy.) The smart/right thing for the king to do would be to find another village to rule over or head to the wilderness. Trying to rule idiots is a waste of time and talent. However, idiots aren’t going to be any more easy to rule if you are also an idiot. Find a new place for your talents and/or get the fuck out of Dodge.

I’m certainly not a wise king. I’m just a lowly villager but I have the same choice to make because the public well of information has been tainted and those who drink from it are getting stupider by the day.

What does this all mean?

It means I’m out. I’m getting the fuck out of Dodge, not in the physical sense but intellectually and emotionally. I can no longer be a part of the public square of information because it has been overrun by idiots and bad-faith actors.

I’ve been out of fucks to give for some time and barely running on fumes. Watching 70+ million of my fellow Americans vote for chaos, white supremacy, lies, misogyny, and sheer stupidity and a whole lot of other Americans not even be bothered to vote for whatever reasons they tell themselves to feel better about themselves has completely exhausted whatever was in my public engagement tank.

I am going to completely stop using social media and pretty much avoid as much other media as possible. I know a lot of people who are leaving Facebook and Twitter and setting up shop at sites like Bluesky. I have a Bluesky account but won’t be using it. When I say I’m taking myself out of the public square, I mean all of it. If the public has access to something, the well of information that hasn’t been poisoned eventually will be.

There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to hang around and watch people who voted for the Face Eating Leopard Party get their faces eaten by leopards. Nobody loves the Find Out portion of Fuck Around And Find Out as much as I do. However, I can’t enjoy the Schadenfreude of people who voted for or enabled Trump to get exactly what they deserve because a lot of people who did the right thing for the right reasons are going to suffer as much, if not much more.

I also can’t watch people who keep telling me they are allies continue to make horrible choices, bitch about the consequences of their choices, and then make the same choices again. Every single person on the left who says things like, “Both parties are the same,” or “Dems have ignored the working class,” needs to go back and take a remedial civics class.

There is ONE AND ONLY ONE principle progressives need to come to terms with. If you want FDR-like policies, you HAVE TO HAVE FDR-like majorities in Congress. There is no fucking third or fourth or fifth option. The surefire way to not get these kinds of majorities is to sit out elections, vote third-party, and spend more time and energy attacking would-be allies than opponents.

I can no longer watch people be more concerned about coming across as “independent thinkers,” than being intellectually honest.

I can no longer watch people monetize anger, grief, racism, misogyny, bigotry, and stupidity.

I can no longer watch people care more about how many followers they have than facts.

I can no longer listen to people talk about “Christian values,” when their actions and words would make Jesus weep.

I can no longer hear people complain about “elites,” but continue to cater to billionaires and be fine with tax cuts for the wealthy.

I can no longer listen to people who do not understand basic economics, basic civics, and basic logic. I can no longer deal with people saying, "It's no big deal, it's just politics."

I can no longer watch people “punch down” on people/groups that are the most vulnerable in our society.

I can no longer watch women and minorities be treated as second-class citizens.

I can no longer tolerate the left being a shining example of “the perfect is the enemy of the good.”

I can no longer watch people who claim that women and minorities are high priorities to them but who constantly don’t do what is necessary to protect them.

I can no longer watch the hypocrisy of people who claim to be “Christian,” exude so much hate and anger towards people their Jesus would have taken in and washed their feet.

I can no longer watch people with little to no critical thinking skills carry more influence and weight than experts in their field. Sorry Uncle Freedom, but you don’t know Jack about virology or tariffs or Ukraine or gas production or (fill in the blank.) You don’t have the critical thinking skill set to even know why you don’t know what you don’t know and neither do the idiots you listen to on AM radio, FOX NEWS, Rumble, or OAN.

All of this probably comes across as “sour grapes,” and/or “arrogance.” I don’t fucking care. I haven’t been wrong about this stuff yet and I don’t believe I am now. I really want to be wrong. However, over the past few years, Americans generally haven’t done anything to prove me wrong.

Someone might think I’m, “just another elite liberal talking down to “Real Americans©.” First, despite all my scholastic training, I’m very much blue-collar. Second, I’m not being judgmental, I’m being purely descriptive. Finally, the Fuck Your Feelings Crowd don’t get to complain about what people think/say about them. If you are a liberal and think I’m being too harsh, get a backbone and stop pretending Republicans are something they are not, and stop wasting your time trying to convince them. No amount of evidence or arguments is going to make a meaningful dent. The ONLY thing that has a chance of making them change their beliefs is if they personally suffer from their choices, and even then that isn't a guarantee.

I saw a very popular Tweet from someone lecturing the left for “mocking people who are concerned about the price of eggs and bacon.” I’m not mocking them for their concerns. I’m mocking them for not understanding the very easily understandable reasons why certain things cost what they do at any given moment in time. Don’t wrap yourself in a flag of capitalism if you don’t understand the basics of supply and demand. Don’t be fucking stupid and certainly don’t let your stupidity lead to even stupider consequences.

It isn’t the fault of Joe Biden or Kamala Harris or liberals that a lot of Americans don’t understand the consequences of a worldwide pandemic, deregulations, supply-side issues, how the need to maximize stock dividends led to a shortage of warehouses or dozens of other economic factors. They tried. A FUCKING LOT. Somehow, it just seemed easier for a lot of people to believe the person who lies about his wealth, lies about his crowd sizes, has a long list of failed businesses, including two casinos (BANKRUPTED... TWO... FUCKING... CASINOS something that no one thought was even possible,) than the President and VP who oversaw the largest growth in US manufacturing, wage growth, jobs, and saved pensions in the past 60+ years.

To call what happened on Nov 5th stupid is an insult to stupid. What it sure the fuck wasn’t, just like in 2016, was a result of “economic anxiety.”

I have to take myself out of the public square because I see no end to the stupidity. I only see it getting worse. It is going to get worse because too many billionaires are more concerned with their placement on the Top 100 Biggest Pricks List than making things better for anyone other than themselves. It’s going to get worse because white men and their enablers are going to fight even harder to hold on to the bullshit worldview of their stature and importance. It’s going to get worse because AI is going to further dumb down an already poorly educated population. It’s going to get worse because people running social media platforms are more concerned with algorithms that will generate profits than what those algorithms contain or their consequences. It’s going to get worse because young people don’t have the skill sets necessary to process the amount of misinformation and disinformation they are exposed to on a daily basis.

It is going to get worse because there is no more fragile substance in the known universe than the male ego.

It is going to get a lot worse because when fundamentalists think they have the upper hand, they ALWAYS make things worse.

It is going to get worse right away because the worst person and president in my lifetime, and possibly American history, isn’t going to have the people or guardrails around him like he did the first time. The upcoming administration is going to be a clown show. Not a Bozo or Krusty The Clown show but Pennywise and John Wayne Gacy clown show because every single person being singled out for top positions is not just grossly unqualified but a rabid nut job.

Germany turned to fascism largely because of economic factors. Between a decimated manufacturing sector, severe reparations due to Great Britain and France, hyperinflation, and the effects of The Great Depression, Germany was an economic disaster post-WWI. Hitler capitalized on this economic strife by telling Germans he’d make Germany Great Again.

America has the world’s greatest, most stable economy. The lives of everyday Americans are infinitely better now than they were a generation ago. Many of the problems we do have can easily be corrected with some basic regulations on our poorly regulated capitalism. Yet, despite this, Americans are turning towards fascism because they can’t buy whatever they want whenever they want for as little as possible, and, most importantly, white men see their self-appointed place at the top of the social/cultural pyramid, threatened. American White Christian Male Exceptionalism and Hitler’s Aryan Master Race are both based on pseudoscientific bullshit. They aren’t the exactly same but the Venn Diagram of the two overlaps a lot more than Americans care to admit.

Other than exiting from the public square, I really don’t know what I’m going to do. The last time I felt this way, to a much lesser degree, I moved out of the country. This is certainly something I’ve thought about and a serious option but due to personal responsibilities, it wouldn’t be for a few years.

When I lived in Japan, they might have been as stupid and conspiratorial as Americans (I don’t believe they were) but I didn’t know the language well enough to find out. There is something sadly true about the quote from “Bull Durham,”-“The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness.”

I’d really like to get back into writing but I haven’t figured out what to write about if I’m self-exiled. Writing about the Village Gone Stupid would defeat the reasons I’ve decided to leave the village. No matter how little you expose yourself to poison, it is still poisonous.

Whatever happens, I want to thank everyone who has read, tolerated and appreciated what I have posted and written.

I initially thought about ending with a quote from Douglas Adams- ”So long and thanks for all the fish,” but that doesn’t really capture how I feel. A better ending would be to post the entire lyrics to “Amused To Death,” by Roger Waters. However, that is too long and I’ve gone on enough. Instead, I’ll end with the lyrics from another song by Roger Waters from the same album.

Muslim or Christian, Mullah or Pope Preacher or poet who was it wrote Give any one species too much rope And they'll fuck it up -Roger Waters “Too Much Rope”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Congrats on wrapping up the Cursed Raven Saga!! 🎉 I had a lot of fun reading it. One thing I loved was how Miss Raven has different relationships with every character. A lot of the saga was focused on just her and J Word though so I wanted to ask if you could clarify what her relationships are like with the other characters especially the ones we don’t see a lot of in the saga or not at all. Sorry if it’s a big ask, I’m just curious! You can do just the 22 NRC boys for now if you want. 😊

[Referencing this series!]

AAAAAAH THANK YOU FOR LIKING IT, I'D LIKE TO THANK THE ACADEMY 😭💐

Having a character with very different relationships with the rest of the cast makes them feel more "real", doesn't it? Miss Raven doesn't get along with everyone! I spent a long time thinking about how she would interact with the others in the cast. A lot of those relationships are complicated or change over time, which is why I decided to explain each individual one rather than slap together a quick chart. The NRC students, staff, and a few key characters are included. I hope you enjoy reading ^^

Riddle

They’re very awkward friendly acquaintances. If you asked either one of them though, they’d deny it and instead claim they just have a professional relationship.

They initially get to know each other via dorm meetings (as Raven attends to take notes); Riddle likes that she does her job and stays focused. He sometimes nags his freshmen students to be more diligent and to follow her example.

They take tea together occasionally and complain about the eels. Riddle has to deal with them all the time—one as his classmate, the other approaching him at random, much to his chagrin.

Not sure how to deal with him when he’s mad. Raven locks up out of fear but attempts to talk him back into a state of calm. Sometimes just cowers.

Frequently tells Raven it is “ill-advised” to associate with the twins.

Trey

Acquaintances out of convenience, I’d say? Raven and Trey don’t talk much themselves, but Trey appreciates that she’s Riddle first “new” friend at NRC.

Raven sees Trey has a reliable senpai, but doesn’t really have reasons to talk to him outside of business. She tries not to bother him since it looks like he’s already got a lot on his plate dealing with his own dorm members.

Trey uses her as a waste receptacle taste tester for his latest creations whenever he feels the Heartslabyul boys have had their fill of sugar. “Ravens can basically eat anything right? Here, have some of this then.”

Cater

Calls Raven "Rae-chan".

They’re not close at all, but they’re aware of the other person’s existence. The two don’t vibe so well…

Raven’s an introvert that doesn’t really understand Cater’s sparkly persona and social media obsession. Cater doesn’t get why a cute girl like Raven doesn’t show off more.

Cater isn’t entirely comfortable around her because sometimes it seems like she’s staring at him… It makes him feel like he’s an open book and she’s examining him for flaws or seeking out something more of him. He really plays up his persona around her to compensate and to cover for that.

Ace

Classmates but not friends. He’s more like a bully. Raven tolerates him because they share the same homeroom. She thinks of him as an annoying little brother she has to "model" the correct behavior for.

He’s constantly teasing her for a variety of things: being short, being a brainiac, being related to the useless headmaster, etc. Raven tries to be the bigger person and ignore him, but there’s only so much she can take before snapping at him.

Occasionally steals glances at what she’s writing in her diary or snatches it from her to read the entries out loud. Tells her she has shit taste in men.

Raven thinks she’s more mature than Ace, but Ace sees right through her “lady” act and points out she’s more childish than she’d like to admit. He says she should be more honest with herself, but she never is. She probably avoids Ace if given the choice because she doesn’t like her lies/tsundere behavior being called out.

Deuce

Classmates, closer to being an acquaintance than Ace is. Though they’re not exactly friends, Raven thinks of Deuce a little more positively because it’s usually him who intervenes to tell Ace to “cut it out” or to “leave her alone”.

Deuce looks up to Raven as the honors student ideal. (Raven gets a slightly swelled ego because of this and thinks of herself as Ace and Deuce’s “big sis” figure.)

When he goes delinquent mode, Raven cowers in the corner until he has returned to normal. Can’t totally understand some of his delinquent slang. Probably repeated a few of the phrases to ask what they mean and Deuce apologizes for saying them in front of her.

She once heard that Deuce likes eggs and she looked at him horrified.

Leona

Calls Raven “Canary”. It's meant to be an ironic nickname, since despite her black feathers she tries to be bright and optimistic with him.

They started off having a really sour relationship because Leona has an attitude that Raven finds is difficult to work with. She sees a lot of her old self in him (disheartened, lost, not willing to try) and takes it upon herself to encourage him because she doesn't want to see him going down the same dark path she did. Unfortunately, Leona doesn't appreciate that he's her "charity case" and tends to put up resistance to her efforts.

Raven's REALLY skittish around him since he's a big cat and she's a bird--they're naturally predator and prey.

Leona saw her as super annoying back then; he doesn’t understand why she has so much faith in him when he has given up on himself. This frustration manifests in a few threats which definitely did not help the relationship.

Over time, I guess the two realize on their own how similar they are and they sort of soften up to one another. Leona starts to treat Raven a little nicer and finally acknowledges her for the "lady" that she is. "I can't quite place it, but Leona-san seems to be different somehow," she says. In a good mood + feels proud when she sees him in high spirits.

Raven really praises his intelligence and leadership abilities, but laments that he doesn't use them to their full extent.

They can bond over intellectual activities or something. Chess, reading books, etc.

Still get on each other's nerves by making verbal jabs. I guess that's the nature of a cat and bird, huh... Their relationship is very "Zazu-Scar" and "Beauty and the Beast" coded.

He's aware that she has a crush on Jade 💀 Angsts in private about not being "the one", why couldn't he have had this kind of support earlier in life, etc.

Ruggie

An acquaintance, forced to be cordial with him due to circumstances. Raven's often around campus doing odd jobs for her uncle, and she sometimes bumps into Ruggie (doing his own odd jobs). They chitchat here and there, but aren't super close.

Raven initially views Ruggie as "one of Leona-san's goons", but they become a little more amicable as Raven's relationship with Leona improves. Ruggie now comfortably teases her and commends her for putting up with the demands of their dorm leader.

He was the mediator for Leona and Raven back they didn't get along at all, asking Raven to cut Leona a little slack and telling Leona to lighten up with the birdie.

They share a love for shiny things and have a talent for finding edible plants. Sometimes they trade tips on the latter.

Jack

Raven's scared of Jack based solely on the principle that he looks intimidating. The first time they ever crossed paths, Raven took out her wallet and handed it to Jack (thinking that he was going to wail on her for her lunch money). He was very confused and handed the wallet back to her.

They don't talk. Like, at all. They only communicate on an as-needed basis, and even then it's difficult to get the ball rolling because Raven just freezes up when he looks at her. Jack very much reminds her of the wild predators she'd have to avoid in the forest.

She thinks it's cute when his ears twitch and his tail wags, but doesn't dare get close to him. Would prefer to stand on the other side of the room and shout at him.

... Jack doesn't get why she acts this way, isn't this way of communicating inefficient?

He tries to remain respectful of her since it seems like (in his eyes) she's friends with Ruggie-senpai and Leona-senpai. Wonders if there's something more there that he's not fully getting, but figures it's none of his business to ask about it.

Azul

Thought he was polite at first, but Raven eventually came to understand that his smile is, in fact, shady. She maintains a certain level of professionalism (given that he's a dorm leader), but she's pretty on edge around him otherwise. If he's nice to her, she assumes he wants something or has an ulterior motive.

Azul sees a lot of value in Raven due to her connection with the headmaster. He's always reaching out to her and 'offering" favors or items to get in her good graces. Often is rejected, but man doesn't know when to quit.

Though Raven doesn't like Azul or what he stands for, she thinks the Mostro Lounge is very comfortable and dines there on occasion. (Insists on paying full price when Azul tries to slide over a discount.)

Jade

Her crush

When Raven first arrived at NRC, she got really attached to Jade since he seemed like a kind and reliable gentleman. They had a falling out (after Raven learned that Jade was sent by Azul to manipulate her) and have been on rocky terms since. Unfortunately, a (very stupid) part of her is still attracted to him, though she strongly denies it.

He derives a lot of amusement from her overreactions to little things, like having their fingers brush against one another.

Raven keeps Jade at as much of a distance as she can. Sadly, he keeps popping up in her life (all orchestrated coincidences) to charm her. She convinces herself that he doesn't actually like her and that these are all calculated moves to get back on her good side.

Many of their interactions devolve into bickering, with Jade teasing her and Raven trying to fire back with something witty.

They're curious about each other's home biomes and true forms. Back when they were friends, they'd teach each other many new things on those topics.

Very vengeful towards those who are "too cruel" to Raven (because only he's allowed to be that mean to her :>). Offers to "take care" of them for her. She tells him not to, but isn't sure if he actually listens to her.

Floyd

Calls Raven “Black Pearly”/“Kuroshinju-chan”. Normally Floyd nicknames people after sea creatures--and notably, with Raven, he calls her an inanimate object from the ocean. This is intentional (from a meta perspective), as it highlights that Raven is an entity that doesn't quite "fit" within the school and the story.

Raven's not a fan. She can't deal with Floyd acting so unpredictably and rashly. He's such a headache, why can't he at least PRETEND to be polite like Jade does? (This comment really pisses Floyd off and makes him stomp off.)

He thinks she's boring but keeps starting shit to see if she'll react if he pokes the right buttons.

Makes fun of her because he sees her crush on his twin is sooo obvious. Doesn't understand why she has to overcomplicate things by hiding how she really feels. "Just do it already."

Kalim

Friends! But in small doses. Raven gets tired being with Kalim, who’s always so friendly and energetic, for extended periods of time. Cares for him in the same way a big sister might for a younger brother, even though Kalim is in the higher grade level.

Showers her with gifts, especially foods. He shows her his menagerie and encourages her to try petting tigers or something 💀 Kalim had a big heart and shares a lot of what he has with her.

He listens to her worries about connecting with others and fitting in. Not good at wording his advice, but encourages her to keep trying and that he’ll always be there for her!

Raven finds Kalim’s cheer refreshing but worries that people could take advantage of his naïveté like she was (by Jade). Tries to protect him from shady types of characters.

Jamil

Not exactly friends, but they see each other and immediately see the tired mom energy. There’s a mutual understanding between them.

Raven takes shifts with Jamil to help Kalim with his assignments. Helps keep an eye on his dorm leader when he’s up to his neck with other tasks. It’s like they’re coparenting 😭

She often finds herself staring at his hair accessories. When she was less accustomed to human life, she yanked on one of them and earned his ire for the next several weeks. Jamil has cooled off since then, but he’ll bring it up subtly if he’s annoyed with her.

Vil

Calls Raven “Shetland potato”. (Yes, I know Shetland is an irl location that doesn’t exist in Twst; just assume Shetland is an old fashioned way of saying Shaftlands/it’s a variety of potato from the Shaftlands.)

She approached Vil first and nervously asked him for etiquette lessons (since she wanted to know how to be more human and “ladylike”), which he agreed to. Vil’s pleasantly surprised that she had the agency to seek self improvement like this, so now his expectations of her are set really high.

Raven admires Vil’s mastery of potionology and tries her best to emulate him in the lab. Her technique is a little clumsy, but her heart’s in the right place. She also loves his sense of fashion since she lacks the confidence to pull off the daring looks that Vil does.

He’s like the stern, icy older brother she never had. Vil doesn’t go out of his way to help her out (he wants her to learn to fend for herself), but he’s there if she needs advice or help dressing for an occasion.

One of the few guys she can go to for “girl talk”. Raven tries to keep who she’s talking about vague, but Vil always sees right through her and tells her it’s a poor choice.

Rook

Calls Raven “mon petit oiseau”. Later on (like, after Raven becomes more confident in her identity), he'll switch over to the nickname "Conteuse des Corbeaux".

A good friend! If not a little too over eager. Raven was definitely put-off but him at first, but he grew on her over time. She loves listening to him wax poetic; it inspires her in her own creative endeavors—and his cheer is so infectious!

They share a love for the arts and sit around trading their takes on the latest movie or play or art piece they saw. Sometimes he reads and offers critique of her latest work.

Lives for the tea. Besides Vil, he’s one of the other guys Raven can talk to about love. Problem is, Rook is content watching her try to find her way (there’s something romantic about it!) and vaguely encourages her to “follow her heart’s desire”.

Tries to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe too much. (“I-I’m sure Rook-senpai has a perfectly good reason for breaking into your dorm room to leave a rose on your pillow… r-right?”)

They sometimes whisper stuff to each other in bird.

Epel

Epel has beef with her cuz she's a raven (aka one of those pest animals that wreak havoc on his village's crops!). Stares at her from a distance with kind of a grumpy face.

He doesn't really act on that beef because Vil will whoop his ass for being rude and provoking a fight with his peer. If he's in a situation where he has to talk with Raven, Epel will do his best to put on that soft, sweet polite facade that Vil has taught him.

Raven has zero clue what Epel's saying when he speaks in his accent. Asks him to repeat himself, which annoys him.

Idia

Raven thinks he’s basically a ghost that haunts Ignihyde. Does that guy ever go out and get sunshine??? (Raven thinks that, but she’s a hypocrite because she also holes up in her room… writing…)

Doesn’t really have an opinion of him since he’s so withdrawn and they barely interact. However, she doesn’t like it when he acts all high and mighty about the media he consumes. Raven thinks it discourages people from giving the media a shot because he’s making it seem so unappealing.

She also thinks his laugh and general presence is

a little eerie. Maybe she’ll get cursed if she bathes in his negative miasma for too long.

Even though they don’t know each other irl, I think it would be funny if Raven posted her writing online and Idia was one of her biggest fans 😭 Like this guy religiously likes, comments, and shares every post…

Ortho

Calls Raven “Raven Crowley-san”.

They’re friends! Little buddies experiencing a lot of their firsts and exploring the world and its oddities together.

Ortho is very pragmatic while Raven has a big imagination and tends to daydream. They balance each other out well.

He tells Raven about his older brother (which is how she first learned about Idia’s existence.) “Eh… Ortho-san, you have a difficult sibling like that…?” She feels bad for him 💦 but respects him for having the patience to deal with that.

Ortho thinks Raven’s an interesting subject to observe and gather data on. It’s not every day that he gets to do this! He’ll be sure to collect accurate readings on her.

Malleus

Calls Raven "the young Crowley".

Because Malleus is often missing from dorm leader meetings, Raven has to either go fetch him for them or deliver the meeting notes to him. He’s thankful for her help but doesn’t engage with her outside of these instances.

Raven is pretty neutral about Malleus?? She respects him and all, but doesn’t get involved with him more than she thinks she should. Malleus is the same way with Raven; he doesn’t think much of her beyond her duties.

Malleus was slightly amused by Raven standing up to him during GloMasq; he announces his intent to strike Rollo down but Raven insists they hear him out. Since then, he’s kept an eye on her and wonders if she’ll have the audacity to do it again.

I imagine that Raven goes to Briar Valley to serve as a royal scribe or messenger for Malleus in her fourth year internship. This would lend them a Maleficent-Diablo dynamic.

Lilia

Acquaintances, mostly because Raven communicates with him about dorm leader meetings or sometimes passes meeting notes to him if she cannot find Malleus herself.

He commends her for being a bright girl but thinks she could make do with loosening up a little. Takes delight in popping up out of nowhere to spook her.

Believes that Malleus and Raven are friends. (They’re not.)

Lilia jokingly asks his boys who they think os cuter: Raven or him? It’s definitely him, right? 🥺

Raven has the inkling that Lilia is a lot older than he seems just based on the stories he tells when he has the chance to. She loves listening to them and dreams about traveling to those places too.

Silver

Friends, but not right away. Raven used to be scared of Silver because he looks intimidating when he stares at you. Still, she feels oddly drawn to him anyway. It must be his princely aura drawing in all the local wildlife… including her 😭 For a long while, she just observed Silver from a distance.

Once she learns Silver’s actually very normal and even sweet (most likely from the neighborhood birds), Raven settles in nicely by his side. For example, she might work on writing while Silver dozes off beside her on a warm afternoon.

Models some characters in her stories off of Silver. He’s so gallant! (Raven complains that the other NRC students should be more like him. Silver doesn’t understand what she means.)

He’s dense, but he’s a good boy. Will help her grab or carry things she can’t on her own. However, Silver is useless with other matters. Like if he sees Raven and Jade bickering, Silver will intervene and try to help “sort out the misunderstanding” so they can all be friends.

Sebek

(Loudly) calls Raven “Bird”.

Frenemies…? Sebek talks down to Raven and demeans her like he does many of his peers, but sometime around GloMasq he came to the conclusion that she must be a long lost relative of Malleus's and develops a sense of respect for her. Since then, he has been acting like an eager puppy that trails after Raven and says/does things in hopes of earning her praise.

Raven is confused by his shift in demeanor and wonders why he's suddenly being so nice to her... Not that she's complaining, but it took a while to get used to.

She's still a little intimidated by his looks and loudness.

Book buddies! They give each other recommendations and discuss their latest reads.

Crowley

Calls Raven “my adorable little niece”, sometimes “Raven-kun”.

He's your typical bumbling/silly but well-meaning father figure. Irresponsibly offloads many of his responsibilities onto her. She also often serves as a messenger to Yuu on behalf of Crowley. Usually apologizing for him.

Not above using Raven to make himself appear competent to potential sponsors and donors. Crowley uses a combination of fake tears, bribes, and flattery to get her to act in his favor.

Despite this, she cares for him and he cares for her too. Raven just wishes Crowley would step up sometimes!!

Crewel

She’s scared of him, especially when he raises his voice (even if the scolding isn’t directed at her). Works hard in his class to avoid his ire.

He sees a lot of potential in her, but dislikes that Raven lacks a spine. Crewel often picks on her in class in an effort to get her to be more confident in herself and to learn how to speak up.

Trein

Raven likes Trein! He provides her with a sense of warm and grandfatherly comfort. She's never had a grandpa before, so she considers Trein something akin to that.

Sometimes stays after class to ask questions or just to chat with him. He appreciates this since some of the other first years act out or don't have an interest in the subjects he teaches.

Trein keeps things professional; he feels that a teacher and a student should remain in those roles and not cross those boundaries. However, he lets Raven know that if she needs any guidance, his door is always open. Maybe that's his empty nest syndrome speaking.

Lucius

The one cat Raven isn't immediately apprehensive about, if only because Trein reassures her that Lucius is gentle.

He chills in Trein's lap while they talk.

If he's in a good mood, he might bat a paw at her or let Raven stroke him. She calls him a "very good boy".

Vargas

Slightly intimidated by Vargas's physique and gung-ho attitude. She admires his enthusiasm for self-improvement, but isn't so sure about his methods.

He doesn't let the fact that she's a girl deter him from pushing her hard! If anything, Vargas declares that she has to work two times as hard to prove herself and build some muscle! Raven always leaves his class hugging and puffing, sweaty, and red in the face... but also feeling super proud of herself.

Traumatized by that one time she witnessed Vargas down five dozen raw eggs for breakfast.

Sam

Business owner and customer--there's nothing more to it than that! Sam sees Raven as a particularly valuable customer due to her need for specific ingredients to concoct her enchanted inks. Occasionally puts aside a rare find and lets her know about it for a good deal.

Raven's thankful to Sam for filling in the ingredient gaps for her. Though, uh... she begs of him to stop placing bets with her uncle about whether or not he can buy out his stock.

Yuu

Cordial enough classmates. They're in the same homeroom which is convenient for when Raven has to pass messages or tasks from Crowley to them.

Willing and able to help Yuu out whenever they ask for it.

[Insert other information as desired; varies widely depending on what kind of Yuu features here.]

Ramshackle Ghosts

Raven greets them like they're her friendly neighbors.

The ghosts treat her like that nice Girl Scout from down the lane that stops by every so often to offer them cookies.

Grim

Brings a tuna can as a peace offering. Pushes it to Grim using a stick. Makes him promise to not bite her or set her on fire. Raven walks on eggshells around him.

Grim is mildly insulted by her acting like he's a monster. "I'm a civilized mage too, yanno!!" (He eats her peace offering anyway.)

Neige

Raven mostly knows him from all his appearances as a celebrity. Doesn't think much of him other than "oh, he's cute" or "he's like a fairy tale princess".

Upon welcoming Neige to NRC for the cultural festival, she's surprised to see him being so princess-like in person as well. To Raven, Neige almost doesn't seem real.

Neige gives off a very inviting aura that makes Raven feel welcome and comfortable in his presence, even though they just met.

He'd treat her as he does all of his fans, in a very sweet and pure manner. Might be interested to know that she's a raven; Neige could think it's cool or invite her to join in on their song since ravens count as a songbird. She gets embarrassed and says she can't possibly do such a thing.

Chenya

Another cat boy? Big nope for Raven. Her bird instincts are shouting at her to keep away. Chenya's a lazy sort of cat, so he seems fine to be around (especially since Riddle and Trey vouch for him). They're basically strangers though.

Raven stares at him as he picks up a slice of cake and chomps through it, then asks for seconds. Her only impressions of him are that he's sneaky and kind of a glutton.

Chenya thinks Raven's sorta funny. He teaches her some bad cat puns and asks her a variety of nonsensical questions just to see how she responds.

Loves spooking her by appearing out of nowhere or poking her while he’s still invisible.

Cheka

Calls her "ojitan's friend". Cheka is 100% convinced that Raven is besties with Leona.

She thinks he's a lost child and takes him by the hand to take him to help him reunite with his parents. (Cheka thinks Raven is a lost child too.)

He's a little ball of fur and energy! Cheka runs all over the place and wears Raven down real fast. She's never been so eager to hand the kid off and be rid of him (though she tries her best to smile and wave good-bye).

Rollo

HE HATES EVERYONE, INCLUDING RAVEN.

... But Raven doesn't want to give up on him! She insists on being his pen pal and keeping in touch, since she feels that a large part of why he broke down was not having people to talk to or to support him. Rollo's forced into this situation... but no matter how often he tells her to quit this, she won't let up!

He finds her extremely bothersome, of course. (Rollo won't admit that there's sort of a comfort in including this in his routine, that it's nice to have somewhere to vent and let loose his bottled rage.)

At some point, he extends the offer to listen to her woes about the NRC boys, whom he is certain are sin incarnate.

What? No, they are NOT friends. Absolutely NOT. (His aide and vice president think they are.)

Fellow

Calls Raven the “lil’ lady” of Night Raven College.

Picks on her. Steals her food, takes her books, etc.

Such an ass-kisser (he's hoping to get sympathy and then leech resources off of her). Gets Gidel to play along with his schemes too. Alas... Raven does, in fact, feel something for their situation.

She's highly suspicious of him. Doesn't like it when he acts overly familiar and touches her on the arm or shoulder... or cocks that smug, suspiciously crooked smile.

Raven likes it when Fellow allows his inner child to come out; it's nice to see that he's still able to keep dreaming as an adult, she thinks.

Gidel

To Raven, Gidel's some kid that Fellow strings along in his schemes. She's much more forgiving of him compared to Fellow and does her best to read his body language to understand what he's trying to communicate.

Gidel's curious about her. She's a scholar, right? Wow, he wants to know what that's like! He just kinda stares at her with big, eager eyes.

Skully

He acts like they’re BFFs but Raven tries to keep him at a comfortable distance. Skully (wrongly) assumes that she's his ally and will agree with him on everything.

She thinks that Skully acts and talks like a character from a fairy tale, but in practice she's a little put off by how touchy-feely he is. Raven will let him kiss the back of her hand, but when he's not looking, she'll gently wipe it off on her skirt.

She'll happily sit there and listen to him ramble for hours about Halloween and the traditions of his village. Raven loves a good story!

She acts as the mediator when Skully butts heads with other people about his hyperfixation and idol. It's not very effective, but someone has to do it.

[eliotquillon]

WAIT ACTUALLY you don't have to do this prompt unless you want to, but in all in cameron is like "your shark story is good but not that good," he has told her the goddamn shark story, he is gonna win her over with his personality--

bless chase’s cotton socks:

The shark story always works.

It does not work on Cameron.

*

He tells it to her in a moment of weakness: they have ditched Foreman to go out for post-case solve drinks, just the two of them, and for once it’s Cameron’s idea to sneak off instead of Chase’s. Logically, he knows that dating Cameron is a bad idea—and he would bet money that she isn’t at all in favour of casual sex. There is no reason to tell her the shark story, especially not while she’s giggly off three vodka sodas and sharing a bag of peanuts with him, but it trips out of his mouth anyway while he’s staring at the strand of hair that has come loose from her tight ponytail. It feels like a metaphor: Cameron, so contained and controlled, loosening up around him. It’s an ego boost. It could be a bit more than an ego boost, if Chase ever bothered to examine it more deeply, but something in him balks whenever he gets too close.

Cameron’s verging on tipsy, but Chase is closer to sober—he’s got a better tolerance, and drinks slower; being the son of an alcoholic teaches restraint to the lucky few. He knows he tells it perfectly. He knows he hits all the right notes. And Cameron smiles along, laughs in all the right places, but it feels…just a touch indulgent. She does not lean closer during the part where he punches the shark square in the nose. She does not bat her lashes when he talks about how cold the water was. It isn’t a bad reaction, but it is—underwhelming. Platonic. Friendly.

Worth a shot, Chase thinks miserably, and then wonders why he was trying to get a shot in with Cameron in the first place. He doesn’t like her that way. They only go out for drinks together because Foreman drives him up the wall and it feels wrong to just drink by himself. That’s why it didn’t work, he decides. There was no real intent behind it. He puts Cameron in a cab home, retries the shark story on a girl at the next bar he gets to, and goes home with her an hour later.

*

“I have a question,” Chase says, three and a bit years later; they’re meant to be going out to a bar later to catch up with Foreman, but from the way Cameron keeps yawning and resting her head pointedly on his shoulder it feels like she’s gunning for a night in. “But you can’t laugh at me.”

“You ruin all my fun,” Cameron complains, shifting her weight closer against him on the couch. “I heard laughter is the best medicine.”

“Allison,” he says pointedly, and she laughs.

“Alright, okay,” she says, “I promise. But only if you call Foreman to cancel.”

Chase, already prepared to do as much, gives her his hand to shake; instead of relinquishing it afterwards, Cameron laces their fingers together and leans back to look at him expectantly. “I’m listening,” she says, and Chase winces.

“Do you remember,” he starts carefully, “when I told you my shark story?”

Cameron opens her mouth, closes it, and blinks innocently up at him. “Of course I do,” she says. She is not smiling, but she has the wide-eyed look that suggests she’s going to explode into a fit of laughter as soon as Chase is out of earshot. “What about it?”

This is the worst part. Chase has to grit his teeth to get the words out. “Why didn’t it…work?”

This time, Cameron’s blink is borne more out of confusion than laughter. “Was it…supposed to?” she asks, echoing his hesitant tone. Chase’s embarrassed silence isn’t a yes, but it sure as hell isn’t a no. Her eyebrows fly up, and she says, mock-chastising, “Robert.”

“I’m just wondering,” he insists, fighting to ignore his burning ears. He is suddenly grateful to his longer hair for covering them. “Pretty much every other woman I told that story to ended up making a move on me afterwards. How come you didn’t?”

Cameron shrugs. She’s smiling now, but not mockingly—it’s fond and soft, a warmer version of the quick grin she shoots him whenever they pass each other in the corridor at work. “Like I told you at the gala two years ago,” she says, “it’s good. But not that good. I think it only works if the recipient already wants to sleep with you. Which I didn’t, back then.” Blunt, but true; Chase accepts the explanation for what it is, and nods.

“But it’s been a while since I heard that story anyway,” Cameron adds. Her smile has turned wicked. “Why don’t you try telling me it again and see where it gets you?”

*

The shark story always works.

[laswells-ashtray]

Omega Kate? 👀 I don't think I've seen anyone write for that before, would love to see your thoughts

I'm watching a MW 2 playthrough right now and my grandmother walks through to grab something, stops, looks at Kate and goes "oh, this is the lesbian you like." which is stupidly funny because yeah.

Big fan of Omega Kate and Omega John solidarity.

Kate already had to fight for the respect she so rightfully deserves because she's a woman, but also being an omega meant that for her the job had to be the priority if she wanted to do anything worth while.

She had to work and fight for even a shred of consideration when she was younger but through years of fucking dedication and spite, she got herself into a position where noone would ever ask her secondary gender because she's the woman in charge.

She briefly considered throughout the years that she isn't favourable to an alpha, she isn't submissive and she has no intention of ever having pups. She's strong, stubborn and determined. She'd never throw away everything she worked for to have a family like so many omegas do.

And then she meets her wife. A gentle, warm and loving woman. Kate doesn't think she'll ever have a chance with her. They're the exact opposite personality wise and the woman comes from money, Kate has no family left and her closest friend is an English man. She doesn't have much to offer. But the woman so clearly wants her.

Kate tries to push her away, it seems like the smartest thing to do because they have no chance together but the alpha is persistent. She never tries to force Kate into a position that makes her uncomfortable, she just... gets to know her. She takes Kate out to lunch and listens to her complain about the men at work. She doesn't think twice about the fact Kate is dressed for her work more often than not or that she has to walk away to take a phone call for the job.

And then they're at the alpha's house and her heat starts, she'd been so busy at work that she'd had no time to prepare and forgot to expect it. The other woman leads her to the spare room and tells Kate to yell if she needs anything.

Kate lasts 40 minutes before she heads back downstairs to the alpha and asks for her. Initially, the other woman says no, she doesn't want this to be a decision made lightly in the heat of the moment just because Kate's judgement is compromised.

Then Kate lets slip that she's never spent her heat with someone else before and that she means it. The alpha agrees but only if they do this under her terms, Kate has to lead everything and as insufferable as it might feel for Kate, they're taking it slow.

They do and it's clear that the alpha is holding herself back but she spends the entire time making sure that Kate's needs are met and that she's comfortable.

After that they move quickly, they talk and Kate very quickly realises that she might not be the typical omega but this alpha certainly isn't looking for a stereotypical omega either. Kate is firm about the fact that she won't change and she won't step back from her job. It's never a point of contention.

But Kate does change, she takes time off of work that she never had before. She becomes less stressed and stop grinding her teeth at night because she's sleeping with her head on her alpha's chest. And when they have a scare over pups, her alpha tells her that they can book an appointment for a termination whenever Kate feels ready to and they'll spend the next few days at home together while she recovers. It never comes down to that, it's just a vague illness and not pups but that's the moment Kate decides that the other woman is her alpha.

[nighty-amy]

I want a boss like him

[starpros-sunshine]

You know. I'm part of the fraction "to each their own and let people handle their lives however they see best fit". But I do feel the need to say that I have seldom seen such an idiotic assumption as that breaking up with someone four days before someone's birthday when you also want that someone to do something for their birthday even though you know you and your soon-to-be-ex will both have to be there won't end with that person just not doing anything with anyone for their birthday. Partially because nobody wants that kind of awkwardness after a fresh breakup and also because the soon-to-be-ex has the lovely habit of wallowing in self pity and making everything about how they have it so bad. You know I just think in such cases you should've waited a week with the breakup. I don't care how much you want to fuck that other guy but I really think you should've waited a week.

[lauronk]

story time in the tags lol

"forgive and forget" WRONG! go to hell

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

dinner prep engagement ♡

a/n : aaaand its finally here, the final part of the ring pop proposal miniseries after decades !!!! im sorry it took me so long to write this final part yall, i just finally felt enough inspo to write it and im super happy w how it came out ! i hope yall do too ! lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist ! much luv xx

fem reader, literally pure fluff between mama n son, katsuki gets emotional very quickly bc i believe he does and you cannot make me think otherwise, a lil emotional but pure sweetness, mentions of making dinner, lmk if i missed sum else !!

this time, mitsuki has no idea what her son is planning. sure she’s had her hopes for years now, and her suspicions, but nothing truly concrete.

that is, until she gets a call in the middle of the night.

"katsuki..hello ?" she answers groggily, heaving a sigh and rubbing at her eyes. she checks next to her to make sure she hasn't woken her husband up, her eyes dart over to her digital clock " 'ts one in the morning."

"uh..hey." her son's gruff voice sounds over the phone, she raises a brow at his hesitant tone of voice, but she let's him continue "yeah, i know. sorry.." he mumbles out.

the older woman shakes her head affectionately "it's fine..is there something you wanted to talk about ?"

it's silent on the other end for a while until katsuki mumbles something. "katsuki, you know i can't hear you if you don't speak up." she scolds lightly, causing him to growl under his breath.

"not..not right now, no--just..can i come over tomorrow ?"

taking in her silence for hesitance he continues " it's nothin' bad..i just--feel like it's something i needa say face to face, i guess.."

"okay..yeah, of course. you know you can come over whenever you want." she urges "is yn comin' along ?"

"no, she isn't." she can practically hear his eye roll and it makes her smirk "she'll be busy tomorrow anyway so, not this time. i'll tell her you said hello though, since you're always tellin' me to."

she's about to retort when katsuki speaks again, only not to her. she hears what she knows is your voice quietly chatting with him as he reassures you that he'll be right there with you and for you to go back to bed. the soft tone in his voice makes her eyes soften.

never could she ever have imagined her katsuki ever speaking so softly to anyone, because her katsuki is, despite having calmed down over the years, still quite the brat. (she's pretty sure she knows where he gets it from now..) he's still temperamental when interviewers and journalists get on his nerves. he's still awfully moody , but he's different now. he's just a little bit gentler with the way he handles kids or older women who's cats have gotten stuck in trees. complaining that this isn't his damn job but still doing it anyway with utmost care as the kitties sink their sharp claws into his skin or cling to him for warmth.

he's a still a little rough around the edges but it's the thought that counts. he's different than when he was younger, but he still is the most different with you. his rough and gruff voice that he uses to bark out orders and complain, complain, complain, he uses so softly around you, keeping you as calm and sleepy as possible. it's not perfect, but he manages to usher you back to your room to sleep, and that makes the thought count so much more.

"m'gonna go now." he warns, his mother hums in agreement, telling him she'll see him tomorrow and he reciprocates the goodbye.

"night, ma."

"night, kiddo." she grins, a happy sigh leaving her when she hangs up the call and lays back down. cozying herself up next to her husband.

she's had her suspicions and her hopes for a while now, but she can't be too sure what her son could possibly want from her tomorrow.

katsuki comes back home like he's never left.

the day goes like any other day would've went a few years ago when he was still living in the family home. mitsuki almost expects her son to run off upstairs to do his homework.

he greets his dad with a half hug, and is forced into a tight embrace by his mother, which he grumbles about. grumbles turning into a growl when she grips his cheek, scolding him for not greeting his mother properly.

it's a lot of catching up from the few months he's been busy with hero work. talking about his latests achievements and his quick climbing of the hero ranks, accompanied with barely suppressed smiles and softened eyes when you're brought up. mitsuki remembers how nervous he'd been when he'd told her he was planning on asking you to move in with him, so she's happy to hear from the both of you, since she has your number and you like to catch up every now and then, that everything was going well. though she already knew it would.

katsuki volunteered to help with dinner, his mother happily agreeing saying she could use some help. it makes her a little bit nostalgic and she wills herself not to get teary eyed at how much her son has grown.

but she sees that the opportunity has presented itself to bring up the topic that's been on the tip of her tongue the entire day now.

"so.." she sings "you wanted to talk about something, right ?"

katsuki stiffens like he'd forgotten, although his expression stays the same besides the slight squint of his eyes. the rhythmic cutting of vegetables has stopped and it takes him a moment before he speaks quietly like he's revealing a secret.

"i wanna ask yn to marry me."

oh.

so that was it.

"oh." she breathes immediately. a broad smile slowly grows onto her face and she beams "took you long enough, ya brat !" she exclaims, slapping her sons muscular arm. he growls lowly at her, leaning away from her though she remains undeterred. poking at his sides while he tries to smack her hands away.

finally, she relents "when are you gonna ask ?" she asks excitedly. katsuki huffs, eyebrows still heavily furrowed from her earlier attack. he turns back to the cutting board "soon. i arranged my schedule and we'll both be free, so in two weeks from now."

"you already have a ring ?"

he grunts in agreement. and mitsuki besides being proud of the fact her hunch was right, feels her heart warms at the burst of nostalgia of her little boy. her katsuki, kicking his feet in the backseat of her car. tightly gripping his bag of ring pop candies he'd give to you the next day. her little katsuki, who'd proudly claimed he was going to marry you when he grew up in that very same car, exclaiming that he'd proposed to you with those very same candies he'd almost had a tantrum over her not getting.

her little boy, who'd gotten oh so big, and so, so much more enamoured with you.

"good." she utters sweetly, voice just a bit wobbly "good. that's great, katsuki."

he nods to himself " i've thought about it for a while now..long while." he scoffs to himself, eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him. "got the whole day planned out too."

"yeah ?" he nods. her eyes soften as he speaks mostly to himself, he's had this little self hype up habit ever since he was a boy. trying to calm himself down and reassure himself. it's a smart move, but as strong and mature as he is, katsuki is nothing more than human. and anxieties can creep up on the best of us.

she's seen it before, and she sees it again when he bites his bottom lip in thought, and she smiles softly.

and again, she coaxes him into it " that sounds nice, looks like you got it all planned out, huh?"

and he nods again. but it doesn't take him, long before he breaks.

"..what if she says no ?"

and mitsuki wants to laugh. she really does, because the thought of you ever saying no to him sounds absolutely ridiculous to her. she snorts. shaking her head while her son looks at her incredulously.

"katsuki.." she tuts, chuckling to herself before she looks up at him. "you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. you've got it."

his eyes widen, then her son's expression drops as he raises a brow "how do you know that ?" his words make her smile widen this much more and she really wants to laugh.

how does she know. she scoffs

she knows because she knows him. she knows her katsuki better than anyone else, he's her son. she knows he's rude, rowdy, quipy, temperamental and everything else. he's all of that and so much more.

and yet you still love him. you're still so incredibly patient with him, you still offer him all of your kindness despite him once confessing to her he doesn't understand how you do. despite all of the times he's messed up, the times he's fallen down, you stay by his side you care for him, you care about him.

she knows her katsuki is absolutely infatuated with you, he always has been. from tantrums about being separated in class and knowing your favourite ice cream flavour to him being overly protective over you when you were paired up with your lab partner that ended up not being him and to him wearing the stupid stuffy tux mitsuki tailor made for him to take you to prom.

you've always been his number one best friend, but he's always been yours as well : he loves you, but you love him just as much.

and so mitsuki smiles "call it mother's intuition. and, not to brag, but i think most of my hunches have been right by now" and it widens when katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes at her boasting, another bratty little habit he has that he's practically mastered over the years. she sighs, spreading her arms out towards him "well come over here. you've gone and gotten so damn tall, i can't reach you myself !" her son rolls his eyes again, but he scoffs softly to himself and with a shake of his head, he closes the distance and hunches over to hug his mother. she wraps her arms around him tightly and he grumbles when she squeezes but he doesn't try to get away.

"there's nothing for you to worry about, katsuki. absolutely nothing." she repeats, rubbing his back. "you love each other, and that's more than enough. just be yourself, it's been working out for you this far..somehow." she jests. katsuki scoffs indignantly but they both end up chuckling about it. after a few more seconds they pull away and mitsuki pats her son's chest with a sniffle. right on top of his heart that she knows, she's seen, has gone through oh so much.

but still remained entirely yours throughout all the years and still so so so enamoured with you.

gripping onto his shoulders, she whispers "you got this." the glossiness in his eyes is impossible to miss, he's always cried very easily. but she guesses she mirrors his expression exactly. her son is the spitting image of her after all. she places a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

"thanks, ma" he whispers sincerely. and mitsuki feels her heart soar.

"any time."

during dinner, katsuki announces the news to his father. who after getting over his shock immediately wraps his son into a hug. congratulating him and encouraging him with teary eyes, she knows where katsuki gets that from, before they all settle down to have dinner before katsuki leaves a few hours later. waving off his mother's insistence to pass you a greeting with a grumbled acknowledgement.

she shakes her head as her and her husband watch him drive off but her heart is full of pride.

"we raised a killer son didn't we ?" she giggles looking back at masaru, who agrees with a smile as they share a laugh.

and the next time you both come over, you're giddy. unable to keep your excitement in check as you keep excitedly looking back at katsuki, who finally relents with an affectionate sigh and you happily show off you're ringed finger with a squeal.

mitsuki squeals right back, wrapping you up in the tightest bear hug she could. masaru takes his turn hugging you, sweetly congratulating you both. of course, they'll tell you they both new in advance, but that was all for later.

sure, she didn't know what her son was planning in advance, but she had her hunches and her funny feeling from all those years ago that you'd be sticking around. she guesses it's good enough that she was the first to be told.

she sends her son a proud and teasing smile when they make eye contact. he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn't fade as he watches you talk with his father. she doesn't have to say a single word for him to know what she's saying.

i told you so.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn @kvk6433gkcigv @coolgirl458 @beekeepingageissome

[flowersforabby]

first time with loser!gf!ellie

she drags the tips of her fingers gently down your side, almost as if she's afraid to shatter you.

"you can tell me to stop," ellie says, voice so delicate that it teeters on becoming one with the low hum of the room.

"i don't know why you think i want to," you sigh, a small smile tugging on your lips as you shift to hold yourself up on your elbows.

her hand finds its way to one of your knees, both of which are propped up on the bed, rubbing soothing circles whilst her other hand lays awkwardly in her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her pants. the upper half of her body is bare, yet you keep your gaze focused on her face.

she looks pretty, in this light. the loose strands of her hair framing her freckled face. the way her eyes are illuminated by the light of your nightstand. the permanent slight pout to her lips. ellie looks different from the girl you'd fallen for, all those years ago, but this ellie- she's yours.

"i don't want you to feel like you're being rushed into this, or shit,"

"i'm ready if you are," you say.

she lets out a weak attempt of a laugh. "now you're just making me even more nervous,"

"i wouldn't want my first time to be with anyone but you,"

for a moment, the girl falls silent in thought.

you reach out for her hand, mirroring the motion she's doing on your knee. her eyes follow as you do so, yet she stays quiet for just a moment longer.

"i want to do it, but only if you do," you say. "i don't mind waiting, i don't mind if you want to do it right now, tomorrow, or whenever. i really don't care, ellie, i just care that i'm doing it with you,"

"yeah," ellie says, sucking in a deep breath. "let's do it,"

"okay,"

"but you gotta tell me if-"

"shut up, ellie."

"i don't want to hurt you,"

"you won't. i'll tell you if you do, but you won't. i know you,"

"yeah, kay,"

ellie slips her hand up your unclothed thigh, your shorts having been discarded a while ago, leaving you in only your undergarments. her skin is warm against you and she's never felt so real, so there. she leans down to peck your lips but before she gets the chance to fully pull away, you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her in, her chest pressed against yours. a surprised huff escapes her mouth as she holds herself up with one arm. she's careful not to pull away from you as she makes herself comfortable, one knee between your legs and the other by your side. you always find yourself wanting more of her and you're pretty sure that soon enough, ellie won't have any more of herself to give.

you're caught off guard when you feel her knee pressed right against where you're most sensitive, letting out a choked breath as you stop sucking on her tongue. ellie pulls away, a small grin on her face, but it does barely anything to mask the nerves.

"shit babe," you say. "should i be worried you know 'bout that?"

her grin grows almost shy. "i'm not all that clueless,"

"oh?"

her hand finds itself on your jaw, guiding your lips back towards hers. she bites on your bottom lip slightly- your thing, which she stole, but you can't really complain because at least, she's doing it to you. your hands slowly travel up her sides, giving her the chance to push them away at any moment; she doesn't. ellie muffles a whine by pressing her lips harder onto yours, when you cup your hands around both her breasts, gently fondling with her pebbled nipples. she's eager with her kisses, chasing after you whenever you pull away to catch a breath. it's a side of her you don't see often, and it's somehow hard to believe that your sweet, loving girlfriend could be so… hungry.

"fuck," you hiss, biting back a moan.

this ellie, she's foreign to you. she's soft and slippery and sticky, slotted right against you. one of her legs is trapped beneath yours, the other, above. a pink flush is evident on her cheeks and the glassy look in her eyes, you've never seen her quite so desperate. her noises are dizzying- a varied array of curses, gasps, whines and moans that only fuels you further. you've got your hands pressed right against her chest, feeding into her laboured breathing whenever your fingers brush her sensitive nipples.

"wanna hear you," you mutter, leaning down to pepper a line of kisses down the side of  her jaw. 

ellie furrows her brows, her finger digging further into her hips as she tries to grind harder up into you, clits bumping together and making her whine. "fuck, babe,"

her desperation spurs you on, alongside the want to please her, to make her feel good. you ignore the soreness of your thighs, trying to keep on going despite the movement of your hips already starting to falter. ellie's wetness coats both your thighs and her own, even slicking down to the bedsheet with an evidently darker patch beneath her. the room feels hot and heavy, your moans echoing throughout your bedroom.

"think i'm gonna cum," ellie gasps. "shit,"

it's quite a sight quitewordly, when she does. she squeezes her eyes shut, tears pooling in the creases and she throws her head back into her pillows. the entirety of her body tenses up and it's a moment before she starts shaking, breathy gasps escaping past her lips as she digs her fingers deeper into your thighs.

"please, please," she begs, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

when your clits slide over each other once again, ellie abandons one of your thighs to clasp her hand tightly around her mouth, letting out a shaky whine.

eventually, you fall victim to her overstimulation, being pushed away right when you're about to cum. she's frantic with her apologies, repeatedly trying to explain that it's really too much for her and she can't bear to feel you brush up against her once more. you shut her up with a series of messy kisses, trying to ignore the throbbing of your core as you try to convince that really, it's fine. she doesn't think it is, no matter how hard you try to convince her, and ellie settles on slipping her hand right in between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit and bringing you to what you had been craving for so long.

not proofread!!

a/n: this was supposed to have been based on this but i gave up

[sinfulspencer]

Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex 

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed… 

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet. 

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer. 

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out. 

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees. 

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot. 

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious. 

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry. 

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended. 

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that. 

Or better, undressed. 

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore. 

Spencer was excited to bring you there. 

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together. 

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment. 

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers. 

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end. 

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips. 

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up. 

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant. 

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he? 

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning. 

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up. 

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.” 

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones. 

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough. 

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out. 

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on. 

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier. 

“Are you even listening to me, love?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking. 

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable. 

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body? 

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it. 

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days. 

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you. 

That felt incredibly hot. 

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open. 

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently 

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.  

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again. 

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting. 

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home. 

Little minx, Spencer thought. 

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.” 

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you. 

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you. 

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said 

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs. 

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue. 

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched. 

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper. 

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor. 

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket. 

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did. 

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him. 

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute. 

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow. 

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin. 

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock. 

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end. 

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration. 

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you. 

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more. 

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so. 

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where. 

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them. 

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said. 

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.�� 

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips. 

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care. 

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was. 

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips 

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though. 

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he. 

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible. 

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again. 

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but. 

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over. 

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window. 

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you. 

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you. 

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated 

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him 

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls. 

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

[whatifitis]

♡ Cursing The Daylight - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando hates knowing you never sleep well so when he believes he's figured out why, he makes it his mission to save his sleepy girlfriend from sleep deprivation.

Author's note: A little blurb thing I wrote at 2 am. I tried my best 😭

WC: 1045

CW: Lando being a bit dumb and the sweetest person ever, fluff

You were currently cursing the daylight, watching as a blue bird flew past your window.

Fucker 

It was yet another sleepless night in your apartment. You continued to stare at your alarm clock, waiting for it to go off, a little reminder that if you were capable of sleeping properly, you’d still have 5 more minutes of sleep. 

For most of your life, especially in recent years, you’ve never been able to get a full night's rest. You’d always end up tossing and turning for hours, as well as waking up about 7 times a night. Every day you would feel irritated and restless due to your lack of sleep. 

However, whenever you slept over at your boyfriend's house, you always managed to get a good night's sleep. You and your boyfriend, Lando, have been together for about 5 months. The first night you two had spent together, was the first time you’d been able to sleep well. You woke up bright and early and you felt amazing, like nothing could stop you. 

Over the course of your relationship, Lando came to be aware of your inability to sleep well most nights. Whenever you would sleep in your own apartment, Lando would receive mass amounts of texts from you, all about how you slept terribly and that you either needed a nap or many coffees. 

Lando, being the ever so lovely person he is, picked up on something. The only times you would get a good night's sleep, waking up and not needing to complain about anything and everything, was when you slept at his place. 

The mattress! The boy thought, she sleeps better at mine cause my mattress is fucking mint. 

Upon realizing this, Lando goes and orders the same exact mattress he has, and has it sent to yours. He thought it’d be a nice surprise for you so that you can get a goodnight sleep every night. Another plus would be that you guys are coming up on your 6 month anniversary, this counts as a gift right?, thinks Lando. 

The day Lando gets an email stating that the mattress was out for delivery, he books it to your place, wanting to be there to see your reaction to his gift and so that he could help you bring it in and set it up. 

Lando arrives at your apartment, greeted by you with a massive smile and sparkling eyes. He wastes no time in pulling you to him by your hips and wrapping his arms around your torso. As you wrap your arms around his neck you say, “As much as I love seeing you, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up later tonight for movie night.”

As Lando pulls away to look at you, the postman has just arrived. “That’s why.” he says, smiling cheekily and pointing to the truck behind him. 

The both of you watch as the postman begins to unload the mattress from the vehicle, before Lando jumps in and helps the man drag the mattress to the door of your apartment. 

Whilst Lando and the man bring the mattress into your apartment, you stand there dumbfounded. 

What the actual fuck is going on? The only thing I’ve ordered to my apartment is a new book and I don’t think the book is that big? Wait, did I order the right thing?!

As soon as the box is in your living area, you confront Lando, “Lan, my love, my gorgeous boy… what the fuck?” you ask, pointing at the big ass box in your living area. 

Your Lan stands there next to the box, all but swaying as he stands and gives you the biggest smile he could plaster on his face. 

The cheeky fuck. 

“It’s a mattress!” he says as he poses next to it, adding a pose for effect. 

“A mattress?” you ask.

“A mattress.” 

After a moment of silence, where you contemplated whether to strangle him or take his credit card away from him, you ask “Why?”

“Cause, you’re always tired and you never sleep well unless you’re at my place. So I figured out why! It’s because you find my mattress to feel so much better and comfier. I even ordered the same bed sheets I have, but I got yours in green since it’s your favorite color. They should be here tomorrow though so for tonight you can spend the night with me or we can use your old sheets.” he proposes, smiling so wide it makes your heart melt from the sweetness that you don’t deserve. 

He gets you the same mattress he has in his home, for your home. 

“I sleep better at yours because you’re there. Not because of the mattress, you muppet!” you exclaim. 

You watch as Lando’s face immediately drops, “what?” he asks. He’s truly been stunned with this information, “What’d you mean it’s not because of the mattress? You mean to tell me I haven’t helped solve your sleeping issues?! I thought I was smarter than all the doctors you’ve seen for this issue!”

You can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend's statement. 

“Gorgeous, you thought that of all the doctors I’ve seen… that none of them have thought that I was sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress?” 

Lando just stood there silent, blankly staring at a wall, likely contemplating all his life choices. 

“Fuck. So, do you not want the mattress? Seems like a hassle to return.” he states as he scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he’s going to return the heavy ass box. “Wait, you sleep better when you’re around me?” he looks at you, somewhat shocked. 

You walk up to him, taking his hands in yours and making him look you in the eyes, “Gorgeous, in the time we’ve been together, we’ve slept on couches and several different mattresses. And I always sleep well no matter where or what we are sleeping on. I sleep better because I’m with you, I feel safe with you.”

“Oh… oh!” he giggles a bit. Red starts to lightly color his face, he’s blushing, “That’s nice.”

You don’t think you’ve met anyone more awkward than this man, but you love him because of that, not in spite of it. 

[postmortemnivis]

nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

[rafey-baby]

dealer!rafe knows just the right way to apologize after coming home late once again…

18+ mdni!

c/w: kinda free use, p-in-v, angsty undertones?

wc: 820

part two

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

It’s past midnight when she stirs awake in their unlit bedroom to Rafe’s calloused hands roaming along the skin of her waist as he slumps down on top of her, groaning when he can feel her delicate presence underneath him, at last.  

It’s unbearably thermal, which is why she’s merely wearing a flimsy top as she lays on her stomach under the covers; softened bones feeling mellow under the weight of his heavy limbs profoundly pressing her into the mattress.  

She tries to move around some, albeit unsuccessfully as his much bigger body cages her between the rumpled sheets and his strong abdomen and she lets out a displeased huff because he was supposed to be back hours ago. 

“Rafe? Where were you? Waited for you…” she sounds almost upset with her mind hazy; dreamy sleep still lingering. 

“Just had to take care of some shit, m’sorry,” he murmurs, guilt weighing him down at the prospect of making her sad. It’s something he seems to be doing a lot these days. 

“Missed my girl all day,” he burrows his face in her hair, inhaling the dulcet coconut scent of her favorite conditioner still present in the damp strands.  

She sighs.  

“Thought you said you’d come home early tonight and we’d watch a movie…” she complains, voice still coated in the glimmer of the dreamland she’s been forced to wake up from.  

“I know, baby. But listen, you’ll get me all to yourself tomorrow, yeah?” His honeyed words soothe her some but she’s still discontented. He always does this. Promises something and then gets her hopes up thinking he’s finally going to keep his word but every time some shit comes up.  

“Was worried something happened,” she persists, a frown obscuring her face as he presses a sugary kiss on her cheek in apology. That’s the other thing, it’s not exactly the fact that he works too much that concerns her, but the nature of his business. It’s dangerous.  

After all, he doesn’t keep a gun tucked in the waistband of his pants whenever he leaves the house for nothing. And even if she knows he can take care of himself, she can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over her whenever he opens the front door unscathed. 

“Don’t have to worry about me, you know that,” he scolds, peeling the covers off her frame and tugging her closer by a grip on her hips.  

“But Rafe—” she whines. 

“But nothing," he interrupts her as he tugs down the zipper of his pants. "Look so sweet when you sleep, gets me so hard, you know?” He mumbles before she feels him poking at her entrance.  

“I’m still mad at you,” she complains with a pout. However, she doesn’t exactly do anything to stop him. Craves to feel close to him in any and every capacity he lets her, even if it can be exhausting to love him as much as she does. 

“Shh, let me say hi to my pussy, hm?” Love it when you’re not wearing any panties to bed, make it so easy for me to just…” he trails off, finishing the sentence with a nudge of his hips against her; tucking his cock into the warmth of her with his fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass.  

“Ray…” she whimpers; the odd intimacy they seem to share in the quietest hours of the day always comforting her in some peculiar way.

“Let me make it up to you, okay?” It’s more of a demand than a request and she has no choice but to let him do as he pleases when he pushes in deeper; prodding at the spongy spot inside her and making her cry out.  

“Yeah? That feel nice?” He pants in her ear; shoving her face more into the fluffy pillows with each thrust of his hips against her.  

“Promise, I’ll take the day off tomorrow and we can do whatever you want, can watch all the movies and make some food and could run you a bath, hm?” He rasps in her ear as her breathy moans get louder by every drag of his cock in and out of her gummy walls.  

His rough hands slide between the mattress and her body, groping at the flesh of her tits as he’s letting out guttural groans from the back of his throat; thrusts growing sloppy in their search for a release in the all too forgiving girl who wishes Rafe was always like this.  

The way he’s talking to her right now initiates false hope in her and she thinks that maybe one day she’ll be able to actually trust his empty promises.  

However, she knows that the minute he gets a call regarding a missing shipment or a late payment, he’s going to have to leave to make sure everything’s in order; returning after nightfall the following day because that’s what always happens. 

[arthropooda]

I could probably stream of consciousness complain about my mother and get to 50,000 words in one day