#I had an epiphany as I wrote this too

[sciencewife]

Oh have you ever drawn Caroline saying her incoming “goodbye Caroline” line?

How do you see her when she said it?! I’m curious!

I had to draw her today so I could say “yes I have”

The following is, of course, my opinion.

To me, Caroline is a very intelligent, clever woman. There’s a misconception that Caroline was being your average ditzy secretary when she says this line, but to me, she was making a clever joke. She probably said it with a smile and a wink at Cave when the recording you hear in old Aperture was originally made. She and Cave worked well with each other and understood one another on a certain level, to where they just knew exactly what the other was talking about. Not sure if telepathic is the right word. But they understood each other more than any other two people in Aperture did.

But there’s a melancholy angle too, I think. Goodbye, Caroline. The meaning changes as the years went by. It starts off as a joke, but I think Caroline gives more and more to Aperture as time passes, and she devotes her life to it (Cave doesn’t call her the backbone of the facility for nothing). She gives even more once Cave falls sick and eventually dies, and she takes over.

Eventually, she’s given so much of herself to Aperture and to science—once she’s given all a human being can possibly give—that, in the end, she becomes Aperture.

Goodbye, Caroline.

[mement0--m0ri]

I just had a 2 hour call with one of my best friends.

We needed it.

We talked about everything that's going on in our lives, and it was really great to just get everything off our chests.

[yyokkki]

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!

[b1tchyboyxd]

˚₊‧꒰ა Male wife reader x Yan!Husband ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

★ This is going to be short, I'm lazy lolzz ★ There may be several grammatical errors or things like that, I wrote this shit at 4 in the morning during a moment of epiphany, Anywayzzzz, I hope you like it

Tw: none.

Your husband had been away all day, working hard to provide for you. As the evening drew near, you stood in the kitchen, preparing a homemade meal for him, knowing how much he appreciated your cooking. Just as you were about to finish, you heard the front door open and the sound of your husband walking inside.

You continued to put the finishing touches on the dish, your heart fluttering at the thought of seeing your husband's face light up when he tastes your cooking. As he entered the kitchen, you heard him let out a weary exhale, hinting at the long, exhausting day he'd had.

You heard your husband approach behind you, and soon felt his strong, comforting arms wrap around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His body pressed against your back, as if seeking solace in your warmth and presence.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the food you'd been preparing. A soft smile formed on his lips as he spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Mmm... that smells amazing." he murmured, his grip on you tightening slightly.

You turned your head to glance at him, smiling at the sight of his weary expression.

"Long day, love?" you asked gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

He nodded, mumbling a quiet "yeah" before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

The feeling of his breath so close to your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.

"I made your favorite. It should be ready in a few minutes." you said, continuing to play with his hair.

He hummed in contentment, nuzzling into your neck even further.

"Thank you... you know I look forward to your cooking all day." he murmured, his hands beginning to wander over your body, as if seeking physical reassurance that you were real and right there in his arms.

You blushed at his words and the way his hands were now caressing your body, his touches conveying a mix of possessiveness and need.

"You don't have to thank me, I enjoy doing this for you." you replied, your cheeks growing warmer as he traced the outline of your curves with his fingertips.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin for a few moments before he spoke again.

"You're too good to me. I really don't know what I did to deserve you..." he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something almost possessive.

You could hear the hint of possessiveness in his voice, and it sent a thrill through your veins. You turned in his arms, facing him fully as you reached up to cup his face in your hands.

"I could say the same, love." you said, your eyes meeting his in a tender gaze.

"Now go rest a little before the food is ready." You say.

Your husband hesitated for a moment, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

"But... I don't want to let go of you..." he protested, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of stubbornness.

You chuckled softly, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"It'll only be a few minutes, love. Go sit down and relax, okay? You look exhausted..." you urged, your voice gentle but firm.

Your husband let out a sigh, his resistance crumbling as he relented to your request. He released his hold on you, reluctantly stepping back.

"Fine... I'll be in the living room," he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on you, as if afraid to look away.

You smiled at his hesitation, knowing that he would begrudgingly listen to you.

"I'll let you know when dinner is ready," you reassured him, knowing that as much as he wanted to stay glued to your side, he did need some time to unwind.

He nodded, his expression a mix of reluctance and resignation.

"Alright... I'll be waiting..." he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a few more seconds before he finally turned and headed for the living room.

With your husband temporarily taken care of, you finished up the last touches on the dish, feeling a pleasant sensation in your chest knowing that he would enjoy the meal. Once everything was ready, you carefully carried the food to the dining table and called out to your husband.

"Love, dinner's ready!" you called out, your voice ringing through the house. Moments later, you heard the sound of approaching footsteps and your husband emerged from the living room, his face still showing traces of weariness but his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food laid out on the table.

He took a seat at the table, his gaze fixed on the meal in front of him.

"Looks delicious, as always," he complimented, a small smile appearing on his lips. You took a seat opposite him, feeling a sense of satisfaction seeing the look in his eyes, knowing that you had managed to bring a little bit of joy to his weary soul.

He wasted no time in serving himself a portion, his stomach growling loudly, a reminder of how hungry he was. He took a bite and let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing as he savored the taste.

"Mmm... it's so good. You always know what I need, don't you?" he murmured, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his words, and you blushed a little under his gaze.

"It's just some simple cooking," you replied, downplaying your skills. "But I'm glad you enjoy it." you added, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He shook his head slightly, swallowing his mouthful before speaking.

"It's not just the food, though. It's the fact that it's made by you. That makes it special. Everything you do seems perfect to me." he said, his voice laced with adoration. You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, his praise causing your heart to flutter.

You found yourself at a loss for words for a moment, not having expected such a sweet compliment. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine affection he held for you.

"You're... too much, you know that?" you managed to say, your voice a little shaky from the rush of emotions coursing through you.

He chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What, for appreciating my wonderful Husband ? I think it's pretty justified." he replied, his tone cheeky yet affectionate. He reached across the table and took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, his warm fingers sending tingles up your arm. You looked at him, feeling a mixture of shyness and affection.

"I can never get used to you showering me with such compliments..." you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly again, his grip on your hand firm but gentle.

"I know, but I mean every word." he said, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved his free hand to cradle your face, his touch almost reverent as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You couldn't help but lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily. A soft smile played on your lips, the feelings of love and adoration he stirred within you almost overwhelming.

"You're such a sap," you said, teasing him gently as your eyes opened to meet his gaze again.

He smirked at your comment, unbothered by the light jab.

"Guilty as charged." he replied, his expression playful. He continued to hold your hand in his grasp, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. "But can you blame me when I have the most perfect Husband in the world ?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

Your cheeks heated up at his words, your heart racing in your chest. "You're unbelievable," you mumbled, a mix of amusement and flusteredness in your voice.

"I'm far from perfect, you know that." you added, your eyes lowering as you tried to brush off his compliments.

He shook his head firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"Don't even start with that. To me, you are perfect. And nothing you say will change my mind." he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. He reached over and lifted your chin with his fingers, making you meet his intense gaze once more.

You found yourself lost in his eyes, his intense stare making your heart skip a beat. The sincerity and determination in his voice left no doubt in your mind that he truly believed what he said.

"You... you're impossible," you whispered, your voice almost trembling. Despite your words, you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered at his unwavering devotion.

He smiled softly, his touch still gentle but possessively holding your chin in place.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't have it any other way." he replied, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something almost primal. He sat back in his chair, but his grip on your hand didn't loosen, his fingers intertwined with yours.

You swallowed, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness under his intense gaze. You knew that look in his eyes, that hint of possessiveness that came out when he was particularly worked up.

"Are you finished eating?" you asked quietly, your voice slightly hoarse from the emotions swirling within you.

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Yeah, I am." he replied, his voice low and slightly raspy. He didn't loosen his grip on your hand, his fingers now lightly tracing patterns on your skin. "I'm not done with you just yet, though." he added, a hint of darkened hunger in his tone.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your heart rate quickening. You knew that look, that tone of voice. It meant he had something else in mind, something that didn't involve food or rest. You tried to keep your composure, even though your body was already reacting to his touch and the implication behind his words.

"What do you have in mind, then?" you asked, attempting to keep your voice steady.

His gaze darkened, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

"Oh, I have a few ideas in mind..." he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He stood up from his chair without warning, making his way around the table towards you. He pulled you up from your chair as well, his hands on your hips as he pulled you flush against him, his body pressing against yours tightly.

You let out a small gasp as he pulled you close, your body molding perfectly against his. The heat emanating from him was almost scorching, and you could feel the hardness in his trousers pressing against you, a reminder of his desire. Your heart raced in your chest, your breath coming in short gasps as you looked up into his eyes, seeing the mixture of need and possessiveness burning within them. His hands on your hips gripped you firmly, as if he was trying to anchor you in place, as if he could never get enough of you.

He pressed you against him even tighter, his hands moving from your hips to your face, holding you in place. His eyes roamed over your features, as if committing every detail to memory. "I've waited all day for this, you know." he said, his voice low and rough. "For having you all to myself." His lips moved closer to yours, his breath ghosting over your skin as he spoke. His body was tense, coiled with need and desire.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he added, his voice filled with both adoration and a hint of desperation.

───────────── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ────────────

Creativity is gone so that's it lol

───────────── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ────────────

Bye~

[netherfeildren]

Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him. 

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter. 

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?” 

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother. 

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done. 

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers. 

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine. 

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.” 

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad. 

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has. 

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside. 

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there. 

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust. 

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot. 

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it. 

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass. 

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough. 

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him. 

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him. 

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go. 

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately. 

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this. 

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him. 

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that. 

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.” 

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby. 

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you. 

New Year’s Eve follow up

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[infamous-if]

Dec ✮ 12 ✮ 2024 – update

Part of me hates doing these mostly because it's a whole lotta nothing and me just repeating everything I said the last update (lol) but I do like doing it because I like keeping people updated, even if it's a non-update. I may sound like a broken record (pun not intended) but I know a lot of people don't catch my updates every time so it's nice to just keep people informed yk yk

✮ — Part 2 + rewrite

Fun fact: I had written an entire essay about my excitement for the rewrite and chapter 3 and beyond but it got too long!

It boiled down to me wondering why I'm so excited for this rewrite and realizing it's because I feel comfortable enough to approach it with complete creative freedom. I wrote the first iteration of the demo with the constant worries swimming in my head like "I hope people understand what I'm trying to say here" and "I hope this situation is being read the way I intended for it to be read." And I think I sort of had those thoughts tenfold while writing Part 2. If you paid attention, you can probably see where I was trying to shut down certain discussions in the narrative lmao

Recently I had a tiny epiphany and reminded myself that it's not always about what I intend to write, but what is being understood by each reader. And yes this is basic writing 101 but let me have this moment of clarity okay. Embracing that means I can proceed with Infamous without holding back and sticking to my guns in regards to what I want for this story aka I'm just going to write what I write and like....not worry about the rest you feel (while of course integrating the common critiques and suggestions and improving on the things Infamous falls short in—I am not Shakespeare lmao)

ANYWAY my point is that I'm excited to fix up the demo !!! and just go back to it with complete confidence in myself and write whatever the heck feels right to me (and write the rest of the story lolol) and return with a better story than I have now for everyone!!

✮ — December will be for

planning what I'm going to improve and squeezing that in a reworked outline so it can flow much better narratively.

Outlining Chapter 3 and hopefully have the bare bones first draft drafted up which is mostly just be writing blocks of descriptions

I'm not sure I'll have anything substantial to justify looking for beta testers so soon yet but maybe!

work on my spice writing babey writing/reading spice makes me actually physically recoil but im determined to get better! which reminds me to finish the 6k follower gifts!

And also take a small breather because I am moving!

✮ — Patreon

I've already mentioned this on Patreon and a few times on here, but I do want to reiterate that Patreon content is coming out in bulk this month, in case anyone was wondering why I'm not posting as frequently. The content is still the same in terms of the quantity, it just won't be released every few days! thank you guys for being understanding of that <3

✮ —

My activity has is decreasing little by little due to my move but I do read every question and try to at least answer one question a day. I get quite a few mentions lately so I have to sort through those since I do get tagged in things, but I miss them due to my notifications. Usually I hope for the best and hope tracking the tag puts it on my dashboard <3 im not ignoring anyone!

That's all for now! Hope everyone has a happy December and Happy Holidays!

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 149 }

wingmen.

megumi fushiguro x fem.reader

no curses | high school au

warnings: slight crack, but mostly fluff.

dedicated to @xbarrjallenx

to my beloved girl,

you are all that i can think of. from your bright eyes, to the way your hair seems to shine from beneath the sunlight-

you drive me crazy.

i am madly in love with you.

please say that you’ll be mine someday?

-yours truly,

your admirer.

{ … }

your lips were parted with absolute shock in response to reading the love letter that was left within your locker. your mind was in a haze as you kept reading the neat script over and over again.

in fact, you were still in shock because you didn’t think that something so sweet could even happen to you!

you recall waking up this morning feeling stressed and nervous about your upcoming trigonometry exam. even with your best friend’s meticulous and detailed notes, you ended up goofing off with nobara and yuji and didn't do much studying (much to megumi's chagrin!)

you had plans of going over your notes with megumi during homeroom, but after receiving such a sweet love letter, your desires to study went down the drain. your eyes kept trailing over each written word, but couldn't seem to recognize the style of writing at all.

as your fingertips trace at the written words, you suddenly had a epiphany-

perhaps your friends could help you figure out just who this secret admirer was!

with your eye practically glimmering with hope, you slam your locker shut before making a mad dash to your classroom, almost too eager to see megumi, yuji, and nobara again.

{ ... }

megumi was simply looking over his notes when he sees you bursting into the classroom. your features appear flustered, and he could see the way your strands of hair fell across your face.

he feels his lips twitch in a slight smile, but successfully fights back those happy emotions because it just wasn't in his style to be anything but cool, calm, and collected while in the presence of his friends-

(even if he did have the tiniest crush on you-)

but he digresses.

while yuji and nobara were talking about some new music video that was dropped by their favorite band, you take quick strides to them while holding up what looked like a letter from within your hands.

"guys look! someone sent me a love letter!"

upon hearing your outburst, yuji and nobara stopped talking about the new music release and turn their attention to you.

"whoa! that's so cool! do you know who wrote it?"

"this is actually sooooo sweet!"

megumi frowns upon hearing how overly happy and excited yuji and nobara were, which was what made the warning bells go off within his head. standing from his seat, he closes his notebook and goes to where you were all huddled together.

megumi narrows his emerald green gaze down at nobara, seeing a suspiciously familiar piece of stationary. he was itching to see just what this letter was all about when he snatches it away from nobara's hands.

"h-hey! i was still reading that!"

but he ignores nobara's protests, scanning through each written word as his forehead began to pulse with annoyance.

this was nobara's handwriting when she actually tried to write neatly!

just what were these clowns up to?

"come with me." megumi returns the letter to you and picks up yuji and nobara by the back of their uniforms, leaving you alone as you went back to staring dreamily at your love letter.

hearing both of his friends laughing while dragging them out into the hallways was more than enough proof that they had done something. only when he knew he was away from you did he finally begin speaking.

"what the hell are you guys up to?" megumi hisses at them both, feeling the annoyance grow when they casually look away from him. "i know that letter was written by you, nobara. so spill, what's going on?"

"i'm just trying to be your wingman." she tells him with a wink, all while smirking at him. "because yuji and i both know that you don't have the balls to tell her yourself."

his face began to turn hotter in response, nearly being choked with embarrassment as he pointed an accusing finger at her, "it's none of your business! if i want to confess to her, then i'll do it on my own terms!"

"yeah, surrre, you've been saying that since the end of our middle school year... and we're in our second year of high school now." yuji reminds megumi with a snicker.

"haha, yeah, yuji knows what's up! so that's why, we're gonna keep sending your beloved letters until you actually confess!"

"no, you won't-"

nobara then flashes him a sly smile, "did you not see how happy she looked after receiving that letter? she would be utterly devastated if we stopped... or maybe... even more hurt if you don't write the letters yourself."

megumi freezes, thinking back on to the joy that paints your features and how excited you were to have such a letter. in fact, seeing your sweet smile was enough to make his heart clench in response...

perhaps the reason why he was so angry and annoyed was because his friends had managed to make you smile first-

not him.

megumi moves away from them with a click of his tongue, shoving a hand within the pocket of his pants, "fine. you got me. just... don't send her anymore letters, okay? i'll come clean to her soon."

while megumi kept his back turned, he couldn't help but smirk when he hears yuji and nobara high-fiving each other, knowing that their plan was a success.

{ ... }

at the end of the school day, (when you were sure you, yuji, and nobara had failed that trig exam), you drag your feet across the linoleum floors of your school, switching out your slippers with your actual shoes when you saw a folded note fall out of your shoe cubby.

your eyes go wide when you received yet another letter, but this time, it wasn't written on a cute stationary, or even placed in an envelope.

instead, it was a folded piece of what looked like a torn page from a notebook. feeling intrigued, you unfold the note as it read.

hey, i wanted to apologize to you, since the letter you received this morning wasn't from me-

but it was written on my behalf.

those words were really cheesy, and there's no way in hell i'd ever say such things-

but that doesn't mean that my heart doesn't race for you;

it doesn't mean that i don't find you beautiful, or think about you all the time.

if you want to know who i really am, come meet me at the school's rooftop.

i'll be waiting.

-your admirer

your heart begins to race, because this handwriting was one that you actually recognized-

for you had seen such neat writing while copying and reading over a certain sea urchin head's notes.

with your heart pounding from within the confines of your chest, you immediately push your legs forward, allowing your footsteps to echo across the floors. you ignore the burning felt against your feet as you saw the door leading to the rooftop, pushing it open with the entirety of your weight.

your chest heaves with each breath that escapes from your parted lips, eyes now narrowing with a fondness when you see megumi standing several feet away from you.

his expression was shy, with his hand running across his hair as he waits for you. allowing the door to shut from behind you, you step closer to megumi and smile up at him. you don't say a word, allowing him to speak first. your eyes meet with his tranquil gaze, basking in his sighs when he says.

"nobara was meddling again... she was the one who wrote that note and put it in your locker."

you let his admission soak in before nodding, "...and...what prompted her to do such a thing?"

megumi remains silent for several seconds before admitting, "it was because of my own hesitance."

he frames at your face with his two hands then, making your face heat up in response as you were forced to look up at him. with eyes filled with adoration for you, and you feel megumi press the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip before telling you, "but, i won't hesitate anymore..."

leaning closer to you, you allow your eyes to shut in response when his lips finally met with yours in a kiss that you had been waiting for since the moment you first laid eyes on him...

a.n. - ahhh finally wrote another story for the best boy! i had a lot of fun writing this story, even if it's feels like it's been forever since i wrote for megumi 🥹 i hope you readers still enjoy it!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[souperbloom]

deffo need some subtle sub!luke in my life - maybe y/n and the guys are all talking about sex lives & one of them slips out that luke once mentioned wanting y/n to be in control because it was usually the other way round, so later on they give it a go!

nothing too extreme, just y/n making decisions, praising luke & being on top etc

you don’t even want to know the sound that came out if my mouth when i got this notification.

(if u requested this reveal yourself.) (im joking.) (maybe.)

enjoy <3

————————

secrets, secrets. [L.H.]

🖤 boyfriend!luke

after what seems to be a secret revealed, you and your boyfriend Luke try something new in the bedroom.

a/n: FIRST LUKE SMUT WOOOO. i wrote most of this while listening to classical music which i just think is so silly and on brand for me. i also had a last minute epiphany and changed the title whoops.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed/smoking, angst if you squint, sub!luke (duh), pet names, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), orgasm denial, protected sex.

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You hadn’t checked the clock for what seemed to be hours.

The guys and yourself had been wrapped up in a heated discussion sitting in a circle in Calum’s living room, all stoned on your own accord.

The conversation had been flowing since the moment you all sat in your respective places, turning from lighthearted banter into something much more vulgar than you were used to. You all hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, which meant there was a lot of ‘catching up’ to be had.

But you weren’t quite sure how the simple conversation of ‘how have you been?’ morphed into something along the lines of: ‘have you ever had a dirty dream about me?’

"You’re lying! I can see it in your eyes!" An eager Michael shouts across the room at his dear friend, and your boyfriend, Luke. You watch the entire ordeal unfold perched atop Luke’s restless thigh.

He tries to hide a measly smile, as Michael has caught his bluff.

"Okay, fine… It was one time. Nothin’ to fuckin’ write home about."

"How does that even happen?" Calum, baffled, rubs his hand on his chin.

"It means he thinks about ya’ before he goes t’sleep," says Ashton confidently, motioning towards Luke with a cheeky grin.

"No! That’s not— no."

"Luke, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure we’ve all had some pretty fucked up dreams about each other." Michael tries his hand at consoling your boyfriend, whose cheeks were now glowing red.

"I’m not embarrassed. You just— you forced it out of me. A man’s allowed to have secrets, y’know."

Secrets.

It always came back to telling secrets.

You’d like to think that you had a pretty open and honest relationship with your boyfriend, as well as his best friends.

But there were still some things about them that you didn’t know.

And you were afraid you were about to find them out.

"Speakin’ of secrets…" Ashton begins, adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, "…I’ve got one."

Bingo.

"Go ahead. This is a safe space," you say teasingly, trying not to acknowledge the fact that you had been so high for the majority of this conversation that you had completely forgotten to speak.

"Ashton’s got a seeecreeeet." Calum teases Ashton in a singsongy tone, but Ashton’s face was reading more serious than anything. He clears his throat before speaking his mind.

"Call me crazy, but takin’ on the submissive role in bed has gotta be one of the greatest things on Earth. And if ya’ haven’t tried it, then you’re not livin’ right."

You quirk your brow, and take a look at the rest of the room. Each of the guys’ faces were contorted into a different stage of grief.

Michael was amused, clearly. His eyes were wide and glassy like he had just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders. Calum’s jaw was practically touching the floor, trying to bite back a smile that was so obviously hard to hide.

And then, there was Luke.

He wasn’t making a face— his expression was unreadable. The only thing you saw was his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He swallowed hard, and you noticed that.

"Dude… what? I did not expect that from you…" Michael was still in awe of his friend, as he cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Don’t make assumptions, Mikey. You only live once."

As much as you wanted to say you were shocked, you honestly weren’t. You didn’t know a whole lot about Ashton’s sex life, but this didn’t surprise you. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once.

"Well? Don’t be a prude… Tell us what happened."

"Y/N—" Luke blurts, seemingly attempting to stop this conversation from unfolding.

"What? Am I wrong for being curious?"

"No, no— I agree with Y/N," says Michael, "Since you wanna rave about your endeavors as a submissive princess… Tell us all about it."

Michael’s sly comment earns a snort from Luke, who had been trying to remain steely faced since the moment he had called him out for having sexual fantasies about him. You smile to yourself, eyes darting between Ashton and your boyfriend as their stare down commences.

"What’s so funny over there?" Ashton quips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot down to his lap. "Nothin’."

"Ash, get on with it." Michael was fed up, and ready to hear all about what Ashton was so persistent about.

You can’t help but stifle a giggle as Ashton lets out a sigh. He was taking this a lot more seriously than you thought he would.

"I’m not sure what came over me— but there was this one time. I guess I was feeling particularly lazy er’ somethin’, but I asked her to take over for the night. I won’t get into the nitty gritty but let’s just say; it changed my fuckin’ life."

"I am way too high to be talking about this right now." Calum says, his eyes wide as he is still processing everything.

Ashton continues, "Somethin’ about the feeling of your fate lying in your lover’s hands is just so… exhilarating. You never know what’s gonna happen next— you learn to expect the unexpected… It’s fuckin’ great, man."

Upon Ashton's admission, your seat in Luke's lap shifts slightly. He adjusts you, pulling you closer into his torso and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Still can't picture it, but... I believe ya'," says Michael with a nod of approval. You laugh, feeling your boyfriend's fingertips drumming against your stomach.

"You guys ever tried it? Don't mean to pry but, as Y/N said, this is a safe space."

The room goes pin-drop quiet. Nobody wanted to speak up; not you, not Luke, not anybody else. It seemed as though this conversation had died out quicker than it came to be.

"Oh, come on. You guys are the freakiest fucks I know. Seriously? None of you?" Ashton presses the group for answers, his eyes landing on you. But you just shrug.

"I'm always on the bottom, Ash. You're preaching to the choir."

"Oh trust me, we know."

"Cal—" Your boyfriend huffs, cutting off his friend and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Confused, your eyes search around the room for any sign of an answer. You seemed to be out of the loop, which was unlike you in these kinds of situations.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You can’t help but get a little defensive, now zoning in on the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingernails anxiously biting into your waist.

"Nothing! He means nothing..." Luke tries to defend, his voice a bit pitchy.

You bite back a smile. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…"

"Unless they’re shared with everyone, fuck, I know! But you don’t have to—"

Calum butts in, "Mate, relax. I’m just messing around."

"No, no— don’t give me that bullshit. What were you trying to say Cal?"

You weren’t sure why, but feeling left out of some sort of inside joke or secret was making you angry. Your temper was mellowed from smoking, yet this whole back and forth was getting to you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Luke lets out a sigh from behind you, dropping his chin on your shoulder in defeat. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore, with the rest of the room dead quiet as they wait for Calum to speak.

Calum on the other hand was holding back a high smile. A look of ‘I know something you don’t know’ was plastered proudly across his cheeks. He rubs his hands together, glancing at Ashton and Michael before he opens his mouth.

"I know you pride yourself on being a pillow princess Y/N, but… Luke wants to see you in charge."

Immediately, your face flushes pink. You didn’t know what you were expecting Calum to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It was almost as if everyone in the room was trying not to burst into laughter, Ashton and Michael slapping each other’s legs to get the other to stop snickering.

You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat, taking a second to look each of your friends in the eye.

"Well, this is news to me—"

"You fuckin’ suck, Cal." Luke blurts, embarrassment and anger laced through his tone.

As you sit cross legged, still perched on Luke’s thigh, you feel a tap at your lower back. This was your boyfriend’s cue; an unspoken means of telling you 'let’s get the fuck out of here.'

"I’m sorry," Calum laughs, "I didn’t mean t’ hit a nerve with that one."

"Luke, wait—" pleads Michael, who had been rather quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

"I think we’re gonna head out."

Soon enough, you’re rising to your feet, and your boyfriend is quick to follow. He grabs your bag from off of the floor, scooting you closer into the awkward energy of the circle. The rest of the guys just look at you in pity, but you were far too busy in your own head to notice their stares.

Luke wanted you to be in charge?

"Can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to," Ashton shrugs, clasping his hands together between his knees, "I guess we’ll see you two tomorrow?"

You purse your lips to reply to Ashton, watching your boyfriend feverishly pack up your belongings and shift you towards the nearest exit. But Luke is quicker than you, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that."

The entire car ride back to Luke’s apartment was silent.

You were still hung up on how awkward those last few minutes had played out; but a part of you was just dying to know more about Luke’s little secret.

Pushing boundaries was something that you hadn’t yet considered when it came to you and your boyfriend. Your relationship was fairly new; with the both of you still testing the waters and occasionally stepping out of your comfort zones.

Luke was excellent at reading you. He paid very close attention to detail, which was one of the things that had you falling so hard for him in the first place.

But there was a piece of you that felt guilty for prying this all out of him, the way his entire demeanor seemed to drop when Calum spilled his beans. He was embarrassed, from what you could tell. And you weren’t quite sure what to do.

"Luke?" You pop your head out of the bathroom door, your face wash in hand, looking into your master bedroom at Luke splayed across the mattress. He’s still fully dressed, laying flat on his back with his shoes hanging off of the side.

You, however, took it upon yourself to get ready for bed. You took off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into a little plaid pajama-short set to try and get your mind off of the awkward energy still floating in the air.

"Luke…" He hadn’t replied the first time you called out his name, so you tried your luck again. This time, he just sighed, before turning his head to face you.

His sandy blonde curls were haphazardly strewn across the made comforter. His body restless, as he drummed his hands along his abdomen and waited for you to reply.

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Mhmm."

Your shoulders drop in defeat, your eyes still lingering on his lanky frame. He lets out a deep breath before looking at the ceiling again, gnawing on his bottom lip mindlessly.

"I’m sorry," you say, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you."

"You didn’t."

His short replies were making your stomach churn. It was unlike the both of you to be so cautious with each other, walking on eggshells in hopes that the other would just let up and speak their mind. You didn’t want to make it worse, either— it seemed like this affected him, and the last thing you needed was for it to be your fault.

You turn back to face the bathroom counter, continuing your nightly skincare. But from behind you, you hear shuffling. The sole of a shoe hitting the floor, then another. The sound of a jacket unzipping, and pooling to the floor as well.

You could see Luke’s slouched posture in the mirror through the doorframe, watching him slowly rid himself of his clothes and leaving him in nothing but his grey t-shirt and pink heart boxers. The ones you gifted him for Valentine’s day.

The water was warm as you started to wash your face, warm enough to let yourself relax for a moment. It dripped down your forehead, into your eyes, momentarily shielding you from your surroundings as you bent over the sink.

In your daze, you turn the faucet off, your eyes screwed shut and vision starry. But as you blindly reach around the counter for a towel, you feel someone hand it to you.

"Here," the familiar voice drawls from behind you, before you feel a broad hand slither around your waist.

You let out a whimper from the back of your throat, unable to say "thank you" now, as you grab the towel from Luke’s hand realize his hips are digging into your backside.

When you dry your face and regain your vision, you stand upright. Luke’s torso is warm, and inviting, his blistered palm making headway beneath your shirt to drag across your torso. In the mirror, you see his face contort into a mellow smile, his curls pushed back away from his eyes.

"Hi," You whisper into the mirror, water dripping off of your eyelashes and down your cheek.

"Hi, pretty."

"Are you mad at me?" You hated asking that question.

"Of course not, why would I be mad at you?" Luke replies, pulling you into his cotton t-shirt.

"You seemed like you were a few minutes ago." The feeling of his fingertips was getting to be distracting.

"No, no. It was just— something I’d been meaning to tell you but… I just never got around to it."

"Oh."

His other hand has made it to your waist. "Are you mad at me?"

"Never."

"Good to know."

For a moment, the two of you stare at your reflections in the mirror. Luke’s eyes rake down your body, his hands still wandering along the delicate skin of your tummy beneath your shirt. You sigh into him, leaning backwards to rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"Wanna try something new tonight?" He asks, his voice huskier than before and mumbling into the top of your head.

"Mmm, like what?" You were unable to hide your melodic hums as his hands move closer beneath your breasts.

You already knew what Luke was going to ask of you, the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach as his eyes wandered, pretending to think.

To be honest with yourself, you had already thought a lot about what’d it’d be like if you two switched places for a change. But you were always too nervous to bring it up, especially in the heat of the moment.

"Want you t’ be in charge tonight, pretty. Do whatever you want t’me. Think you’d be interested?"

"Yes," you breathe without even a second thought, entranced by his fingertips as they creep towards the waistband of your shorts, "I’d love to."

"Sounds good t’me."

Not a second passes before Luke is spinning you around to face him. He dips down, and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, leaving you with a fuzzy head and a fluttering stomach.

When you pull away from him you notice the twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was a look of anticipation. Pure excitement. You were about to try something new with the person you loved most in this world, and he was about as thrilled as you were.

You could just tell.

"How can I be good for you, pretty? Wanna be your good boy tonight."

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you figured it’d be best to just play it cool.

"Wellll—" You press your index finger to his chest, "Maybe start by getting on the bed?"

"Are you gonna come with me?" He asks sweetly, still holding you in his hands.

"Of course, baby… But I need you to just sit tight and wait for me, okay?"

He nods quickly, biting back a smile between his teeth before he’s shuffling out of the bathroom towards the bed. You linger in the doorframe for a moment, watching in complete awe as Luke crawls to the top of the mattress and sits with his back resting against the headboard.

Doing exactly what you had asked him to.

You start in slow strides towards him, swaying your hips with each step in hopes to kill some time.

You wanted to figure out a game plan. Since you’d never done this before, you weren’t sure where to start; and as much as it wouldn’t be shameful to ask Luke for advice, you wanted to impress him.

"Okay, done. Now what?" The anticipation in his voice made you want to just explode on impact. He was just the cutest fucking thing.

"Hmmm," you hum, crossing your arms as your eyes scan his body, "I’m gonna need that shirt off."

"Yes ma’am."

He then crosses his arms in front of his torso, pulling the hemline of his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side, revealing his bare chest sprinkled in sandy blonde chest hairs.

As you watch him move, you gnaw on your bottom lip, scanning down his practically naked body and thinking of all of the things you could do. All of the things you could do to make this right for him. To make this worth wild.

You glance down at your plaid pajama shirt, clad and held together by buttons that gap between your breasts.

And then, you get an idea.

"You ready for me baby?" You ask your boyfriend, whose legs had been crossing and uncrossing impetuously as he watches you near closer to the bed.

"Mhm."

"Gonna play a game with you, m’kay?"

"M’kay." He mocks your gentle tone.

Before you could explain the rules of this new, made-up game of yours, you start to move. Dipping one knee down into the mattress, then the other. You crawl to him, straddling his lap and settling down atop of his obvious hard-on.

He was turned on just by the thought of you.

"It’s very easy," you start to say, reaching for the first button of your blouse, "and there’s only one rule."

Luke’s hands hover around you awkwardly, unsure of where to rest them, unsure if he was even allowed to touch you at all.

"What is it?" He asks, swallowing and adjusting himself beneath you.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His eyes widen. He had finally noticed your hand lingering and toying with the button on your top.

"You’re pretty, baby. The prettiest."

And with that, the first button comes undone. You move your hands down to the second.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, his hands now stagnant at his sides and twitching by your calves.

"You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world."

Second button, undone.

"Tell me I’m pretty, baby. Tell me again."

As you reach for the third button, you make a point to grind your hips down, swiveling them in a way that he’d feel it. His face contorts in bliss, petal pink lips parting slightly.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty… Prettiest I’ve— ever seen."

Third button, undone.

"Tell me more, baby. Tell me again."

You grind your hips down again, and a soft whimper escapes the back of his throat. You could feel his hands fidgeting down by your legs, reaching out to touch something that wasn’t even there.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… My pretty girl— ah—" He's cut short with another dig of your hips. The paper thin material of your pajama shorts leaving absolutely no room for the imagination. You could practically feel his cock twitching beneath your core, but you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

With his last words of affirmation, you undo the last two buttons on your own accord. The breeze from the air conditioning makes you shiver, instantly perking up your nipples.

Luke noticed that, too. He always does.

"So, so pretty…" He utters with one last labored breath, as if it were the last he’d ever take, upon seeing your chest.

"You did so good for me, didn’t you baby?"

Luke hums quietly, clearly feeling some sort of release due with the pressure of your body on top of him. You notice his hands trembling still, down at his sides and oblivious to the thought of touching you.

"You can touch me, y’know. Been’ such a good boy for me so far."

The eye contact between you was like trance; it was gentle, and warm. Still wavering with uncertainty, yet eager to continue. Luke’s hands eventually make it to your waist, something he had been dying to do since the moment you straddled his hips.

You could tell he was still hesitant to let his fingers roam as they usually would, and that was definitely getting to your head.

You swivel your hips one last time without a single word, dipping down to kiss him. Your hands are quick to cup his face, lips interlocking eagerly for the first time since this morning.

It’s not long before your tongues begin exploring, tangling together in the sweetness of your kiss.

You’re still grinding your hips. He’s still in a trance.

Luke’s hands had moved to grip your ass, pushing it down while simultaneously bucking his hips up into your core. This action of his makes you disconnect from him for a moment, a disapproving look in your eye.

"Ah ah ah," you tut at him, his cheeks now squished between your palms. He quirks his brow.

"What?"

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You said I could do anything, right?"

He chuckles, eyes flicking down to your lips, "I did say that, didn’t I? You're right, baby. Tell me whatcha' need from me... I'm all yours."

You suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that keep poking at your head and telling you to just let him have his way with you. You wanted to remain stern, whether he took you seriously, or not.

"How about this…"

You let go of his cheeks to shrug your pajama shirt off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to his tee. His pupils shake, eyeing down your breasts.

"…You don’t get to cum ‘till I say so."

"Oh, fuck— you're too good t'me..." His voice is soft and melodic, already so willing to give up the power he usually claims. "Yes. Yes..."

Your palms lay flat on his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

He was anxious; anxious in the way that one more subtle touch to his flesh would send his heart thumping right through his ribcage.

You couldn't contain your excitement anymore; just looking at him was already creating a slickness in your panties.

But Luke could've stared at you for hours.

"Are you sure, Lu?" You ask once your delicate boy once more, tracing little hearts with your pointer fingers across his pecs. He nods eagerly, eyes going doe.

"Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Have your way with me, please."

With a tug at your bottom lip, you take his words as your cue. You're quick to take out a condom from Luke's bedside dresser, and even quicker to shift your ass down to rest on his thighs.

As you move, his stare lingers. He nods at you slowly, to remind you of his approval. How desperately he wanted you to have your way with him.

His cock twitching and practically popping through the button of his boxers was already telling you everything you needed to know.

To try and read his eager pleas, you begin to palm him delicately through the pink heart fabric, heavenly sounds spilling past his lips and floating to your ears like a siren's melody.

He was grunting, whining; almost as if he were in pain.

"Easy now, baby," you coo gently, as a shiver runs down Luke's body, "Still my good boy, right?"

"Mmmmph."

"Good, good. Just like that, pretty baby." You squeeze your hand around his length, and his jaw falls completely agape.

You weren't planning on teasing him for much longer. It almost felt cruel to do so.

So, instead of waiting any more, you release him from the button of his boxers.

His tip was already leaky with precum; angry and red, that angelic face of his melting the second you wrap your manicured fingers around his shaft.

Tipping down to take him into your mouth, you hollow out your cheeks, tongue laying flat against him as you start to bob your head.

Sucking him off had always been one of your favorite things to do. In your head, it gave you a purpose— and you always loved the praise that would come with it.

But with the power dynamic now in your favor, you were already enjoying it all the more.

"Fuck me, pretty... So fuckin' warm..." Luke groans through gritted teeth, taking his hands to comb through your hair. You hum at him, sending a vibration down your tongue and directly through his body. He jolts, as if he’d been struck by lightning, while your hands begin to claw at his hipbone.

The walls of Luke's bedroom felt like they were closing in on you, each heaving breath that he was taking was making you dizzy. Your nails leave little crescent etchings deep into his flesh, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you duck down.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck–" He grunts, he whines, he continues to writhe beneath you, completely at your disposal. You were eating up every single sound he made, every little spasm of his hands or jerk at his hips.

Picking up on the signs, you could tell he was close. He didn't even have to say it.

"Y/N... I–I'm..." He can barely even finish his thought before he's grabbing your hair in a handful. You always loved it when he was a little rough with you, and this time was no different.

With a tug at your roots, you hum around him again. His body comes lurching forward, almost as if to stop himself from fucking your throat.

"Baby– M'close..." He finally utters, which brings you to toss your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whisper, watching his cock fall thump against his stomach and twitch here and there, "You’ve been so good for me so far."

"I have?" He asks the question sweetly, genuinely. With a little twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, of course you have, my pretty baby…" you say, running the back of your hand down his belly, "Gonna keep it up for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a good boy."

Luke tosses his head back, his bottom lip held captive by his teeth, and lets out a whine the moment you start to get off of him. The fact that he was whining at the loss of your touch was enough to send you over the edge right then and there, but you wanted to keep your promise.

You hastily discard your pajama shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Luke whimpers again upon seeing you naked— you didn’t bother to wear your panties tonight.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N… My pretty little flower—" Luke sighs, in awe of you, despite the lingering sexual tension in the air. He always made it a point to compliment you, no matter the scenario.

"Thank you, Lu," You can’t help but giggle and blush, making your way back to his lap to straddle him.

Again, his hands find your waist. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes wired shut.

After only doing this for a little while, you were already comfortable talking to Luke in a more dominant way. The trick was to not think about it too hard. Just let the words roll right off of your tongue.

Simple enough, right?

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby." Your words are soft like down pillows yet loud enough to get a rise out of him. He shifts beneath you, still closing his eyes.

"Fuck me… please? I’m achin’ for you."

You take his pleas as your sign to start, wet enough from merely the obscene sounds spilling from his lips. The condom you had grabbed was still at your side so, you rip the package open with your teeth.

When you start to roll the condom down over his length, he lets out a hiss. Could have been the temperature; or maybe he was just too desperate to be ashamed of his sounds.

"Shit—" He whines, clutching onto your hips as your hand pumps his cock a few times.

"Easy, baby," you purr, adjusting yourself upwards to line him up with your dripping slit, "You ready for me?"

"Mhm— yes… yes please, angel. Please— fuck me."

His throaty cries only furthered the butterflies floating around in the pit of your stomach. You could barely contain yourself as you hover over him, biting your lip as you sink down onto his cock.

The both of you let out a collective groan; the feeling of him filling you up completely just seemed too perfect.

You lower your body so that you completely engulf him, taking his length fully and making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Feels good, pretty baby?" You ask, still buzzing.

"Mmph—" He whines, anchoring his hands to your hips as you start to swivel.

"Need you to use your words, Lu… Tell me."

You’re gentle with him, at first. Treating him delicately, like picking off the petals off a daisy. He seemed so weak beneath you and something about it was making your head spin. Your heart was bursting at the seams.

"Yes, Y/N— Feels s’fuckin’ good—" Luke whimpers, digging his fingernails into you, and holding onto you with his entire soul fleshing through his fingertips.

His cock twitches inside of you, as you continue your rhythm of grinding hips. It’s easy for you to tell when to pick up speed, testing his limits by his face alone.

"Such a good boy, baby.. You’re doing so fuckin’ well."

You start to notice the familiar furrow of his brow, that concentrated little notch in his forehead.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t seem to look away

"Y/N, I—"

He says your name again. It’s syrupy, like honey dripping off of his tongue. You place your palm flat on his tummy, tossing your hair out of your eyes to match his gaze.

"Takin’ my pussy so well, aren’t you?" You ask him, but don’t expect an answer. His face of concentration was telling you all you needed to know. How hard he was working to please your demand.

"Mmm… Th-think’ m’doin’ a good job…" He nods slowly, and you smile.

"Oh baby, you are… Keep goin’, m’kay?"

He smiles with a hum, through heavy, bated breaths.

"M’kay."

The sweaty flurry of blonde curls and baby blue eyes was slowly starting to unravel. The rise and fall of his chest was rapidly picking up speed, before he started to snap his hips up into you.

A slapping sound engulfs the walls of his bedroom, but you have no reason to complain. His cock was stretching you out, hitting that sweet spot with every stroke.

"Fuck, Lu—" You can’t help but revert to your old ways; yet not completely giving in, and letting him hold the reins. He was still beneath you, practically melting as your bodies entwine.

And that, was an incredible feeling.

"Y/N—" he whines, broken by panting, "m’close."

You nod sloppily, your tits bouncing at the speed of your swiveling hips.

"Hold it, baby— still my good boy, right?"

"Yes, yes… I am, Y/N. M’ a fuckin— a fuckin’ mess for you…"

A catty smile sprawls across your cheeks, feeling your orgasm budding lowly in the pit of your stomach, and satisfied at the way you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Mhm, yes you are. Such a pretty mess..."

Your orgasm was on the brink now, ready to burst and run through your body. Sloppy sounds filled the air; panting, whining, groaning. It was all meshing in your ears like the tune of a fucking song.

You felt your face tinge pink upon seeing your boyfriend’s concentrated expression, feeling a tad bit sorry for being so demanding.

So, you finally decide to let go.

"Cum with me, baby—" You gasp.

"Wha—"

"Let it go, Lu. Been s— so good for me, fuck!"

And with that, stars and galaxies are fogging your vision. You let out a cry as you finish, your walls clenching tightly around Luke’s cock as he does the same. He gives one last quick snap of his hips before you’re collapsing completely, going limp on his chest with him still inside of you.

You could hear his heart thumping through his chest; your sweaty bodies practically letting sparks fly. His hand moves to rub your back, as you both collect your devices.

"Was I good enough, baby?" He asks sweetly, that soft voice from before coming into play and making your stomach flutter.

"More than enough."

He giggles; seeming a bit shy about the semantics of it all, before planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

You can see his eyelashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks, glistening in the light of your bedroom as he grins up to the ceiling.

"I’m glad," he beams, "And you were right, by the way."

You pop your head up from his chest to look him in the eye. "About what?"

"Should’ve told ya’ about this a lot sooner."

With a shake of your head, you tut at him teasingly, just happy to feel closer to him than you ever have before.

"Guess it’s not a secret anymore."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn : Part Six

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART FIVE | MASTERLIST | PART SEVEN

            Later that night, you decided to hide out in your room. After Rafe’s suggestive thoughts, all you wanted was to be alone. You had ignored Dr. Mooney’s concerned looks as you loaded into the van, & pointedly ignored Rafe’s sat ahead of you in the van. Rafe was wrong. You didn’t feel tugged between two men, you felt like a piece of meat. Whether it was true or not, Rafe had planted the seeds in your mind. Now, you didn’t feel like you could be open towards Dr. Mooney. And that was a major loss as you felt Dr. Mooney was the one man in your life who didn’t sum you up to be a harlot. He cared about you, more than your own father did. But after what Rafe said… You didn’t know who you could trust.

            You skipped dinner that night, instead using that time to write in your journal that Dr. Mooney had given you. But you weren’t writing because you were feeling the burn. You wrote about everything that Rafe had told you. How you felt confused, betrayed, troubled. And after filling out a couple pages, you reread what you wrote & that’s when you realized something major. Recovery was working. You were disappointed that a trusted man wanted you, if it were true. You may have felt that brief burning at the beach, but it ultimately died out. You didn’t want Dr. Mooney to want you, not like you had when you first came to the facility. You wanted him to respect you, to be proud of you.

            Though the epiphany brought a sense of comfort & a smile to your face—you were getting better—it too brought doubt. About your future here. How could you continue your one-on-one sessions with Dr. Mooney now that you would be reading into every word he said, every action he took towards you. Rafe had gotten into your head & that burned.

            You resolved that you would avoid Rafe for the rest of your time here. He had never done anything to help you. He tempted you, pushed you to embrace your addiction rather than fight against it. Rafe didn’t care about you, that much had become obvious to you. In the beginning, you had been drawn to him, regretfully. And he took advantage of it. As you reflected on the last couple weeks: how he got into your head on his first day, his rejection of you at the community garden, cornering you in the hall closet, even following you into the quiet room. Rafe was bored, like everyone else was under that rood. You were only a toy to him. So, fuck him.

            As you were sitting at your desk, your back to the door, you heard a gentle rap on the doorframe. You turned in your seat, dreading that it would be object of your endless thoughts, but you were pleasantly surprised that it was Albert.

            “Hey.” Albert was holding a plate of food. “You weren’t at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you food.”

            “Oh,” you stood up awkwardly, tossing your journal onto the desk, “thanks, Albert.”

            You gestured for him to come inside & he did, offering you the plate. You took it but placed it on the nightstand by your bed. Your appetite was still non-existent.

            “You alright?” He asked, but you knew he only asked since the answer was obvious.

            You shrugged, “I don’t know.”

            “What’s going on?” Albert leaned against the opposite wall, his hands in his pockets as he stared concerningly at you.

            “I don’t know.” You repeated, avoiding his eyes. Though you didn’t trust Rafe & now Dr. Mooney, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to place your trust in someone else.

            “Something happened at the beach.” Albert commented without question. “Didn’t it?”

            Your eyes briefly met his before you shook your head, “Just the same old bullshit. You know how it is.”

            “Sure.” Albert nodded but he didn’t appear convinced, “But I don’t like Rafe, don’t trust him. And he had to of said something to upset you. You were quiet in the van.”

            Damn Albert & his too observant behaviors.

            “It’s really not your business.” You soured.

            Albert half-scoffed, half-laughed but he wasn’t amused.

            “You need a friend.”

            “I have friends.” You replied sternly, “Ones that aren’t addicts & life ruiners.”

            “Wow.” Albert cocked his head, “Ouch.”

            Guilt flooded you immediately. This was Rafe’s doing. Your walls & distrust because of him were now being directed at people who didn’t deserve it.

            “I’m sorry.” You sighed, holding your head in your hands, “You’re right. I do need a friend.”

            Albert waved away your apology, replacing it with a sympathetic smile, “Talk to me, dude. Anything you say will stay between us.”

            “And Siena? You won’t go running to her with the gossip.” Albert & Siena had become attached at the hip in the last couple weeks. In fact, you were surprised she wasn’t in your bedroom with the two of you.

            Albert chuckled, “I love Siena. And I love Siena because she couldn’t give a shit about any of the drama surrounding others.”

            “That’s not a confirmation that you won’t say anything.” You teased, but there was an undertone of seriousness.

            “I won’t say a word.” Albert promised.

            So, you told Albert everything. While Dr. Mooney wasn’t allowed to indulge others about your sessions & what the two spoke about, the same couldn’t be said for you. You informed Albert about your struggles, Dr. Mooney’s support, Rafe’s mind-fucking, & finally, about what Rafe had told you about Dr. Mooney at the beach. By the time you were finished, you looked to Albert for comfort, or at least some sense of what you should do.

            But Albert’s silence unsettled you.

            “What?” You frowned.

            Albert looked at you once then sighed, standing up from where he was sat beside you on your bed, “I, uh, heard something the other night.”

            “What did you hear?” You questioned.

            “These walls,” Albert pointed to the walls of your bedroom, “they aren’t that thick. Voices carry.”

            You just watched him as he appeared to struggle to tell you what he was trying to.

            “My room is next to Rafe’s. And one night, pretty late actually, just before light’s out, I heard another voice from inside Rafe’s room.”

            “Okay…”

            Albert stared solemnly at you, “It was Dr. Mooney.”

            Dr. Mooney? He was never at the facility that late. Why would he…?

            “He was warning Rafe to stay away from you.”

            That heart in your stomach feeling returned with a vigor.

            “But that doesn’t mean anything…” You tried to pitifully defend your doctor, despite your own negative feelings towards him.

            “I didn’t think so either at the time. I thought it was strange that he was confronting a patient in their room, especially that late at night. And honestly, I was siding with him. I mean, I’ve said it myself to Rafe, to stay away from you, so I thought Dr. Mooney was just looking out for your best interests too but…”

            When he paused for a lengthy amount of time, you pushed, “But what?”

            “But” Albert sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. After what you just told me, perhaps Rafe is right. What Dr. Mooney did, or how he did it, was out of character for someone in his position. Seems personal now.”

            You swallowed your discomfort. Could it actually be possible that Rafe was telling the truth? The potential made your head swim sickeningly.

            “Oh, god.” You held yourself, pressing your face into your arms.

            Albert noticed your change in body language, returning to his spot beside you. He placed a hand on your back, rubbing circles there, “Look, I could be wrong! I hope I’m wrong. And Rafe could’ve just twisted the conversation to get in your head.”

            “But you heard it yourself, Albert! Rafe even has you questioning…” You sighed in frustration, “Everything has gone to shit.”

            Albert offered a small smile, but it did little to make you feel better, “I feel like I just made things worse.”

            “No.” You rushed out, “You didn’t. You helped. I just… don’t know what to do now. Do I tell my parents?”

            Albert dropped his hand at that, seemingly deep in thought.

            “What now?” You asked exasperated.

            “You’re just making me remember something.”

            “Well, what?!” Albert’s pauses were beginning to get on your nerves. If he was here to ease you, he wasn’t succeeding.

            “It was just gossip at the time, there was no proof of it & all speculation, as far as us patients went.” Albert began, “But when I was here the first time, a year ago, there was a rumor that Dr. Mooney was sleeping with one of the patients. She was here one day then gone the next. No good-bye party or anything. Just gone. And then Dr. Mooney was gone, too. ‘On vacation’, they said. But I don’t know. The timing was concerning.”

            You frowned.

            “We thought that maybe they were just saying he was on vacation while they investigated, but of course we never heard anything else, if there even was an investigation. If it was even true.”

            Your head was spinning. You felt nauseous.

            “But he came back. And everything was normal. He was his normal self. All the nurses & other doctors still treated him like they had before he left. That’s why it was just gossip. People could’ve just been bored, coming up with their own theories & that’s just the one that stuck.”

            You shook your head, “You should go.”

            Albert wasn’t helping. When you got back to the facility from the beach, you were already exhausted from the information Rafe fed you, & now Albert was feeding into that more so.

            “_____?”

            You stood up, “I’m sorry, Albert. I’m tired. I just need to be alone.”

            Albert frowned but said nothing, just nodded & stood up, “I really didn’t mean to make things worse.”

            You nodded but couldn’t say anything further. Once Albert crossed your threshold, you slammed the door shut. Then you dragged yourself down against the door until your butt met the cool floor.

            What the fuck was going on?

            Today was a bad day. It was one thing to have to face Albert, Rafe, & Dr. Mooney in group session, but it was another thing to have it observed by Dr. Frazer. He was the head doctor & director of Arrowhead. Whenever he came around, which wasn’t often, everyone felt restless. He had steely eyes, a stiff stance, & hardly spoke a word. Just quietly observed.

            That day in group session, you forcefully placed yourself between Siena & Renee, not wanting to sit near any of the men, but that only meant you were forced to look at them. You felt you couldn’t win for as long as you were trapped in the facility.

            And today’s group session topic had been brutal. Discussion surrounded how your addiction harmed those closest to you. Renee, as usual, never took the questions seriously, always giving short, brief answers. Albert & Siena were thoughtful in their responses, humbling in nature & self-reflective of their recklessness. But when it came to be your turn, you felt like you would projectile vomit over everyone.

            “Um.” You felt your hands shaking, so you hid them between your thighs, “I think the person who has been effected the most by my addiction is my dad.”

            You kept your eyes low, unable to look anyone in the eye. Too scared to.

            “Because of what I did he was forced to fire his TA. And since then he has been facing a lot of backlash at work.”

            Renee gave a soft chuckle but quickly hid it with a forced throat clearing. You ignored her reaction.

            “How does that make you feel?” Dr. Mooney questioned. You still hadn’t looked him directly in his eyes. You stared at his shoes.

            “Like shit.” You admitted, “I’ve never been really close to my dad, but now he can’t look at me. Treats me like scum.”

            Dr. Mooney hummed, “Have you considered that perhaps he feels like he failed you?”

            You flashed your eyes to Dr. Mooney’s, “What?”

            “Your father. Oftentimes the people closest to us are so angry with themselves for not addressing the addictions they see in their loved ones that they will sometimes project their feelings outwards.”

            You shook your head, “No, not him. He doesn’t blame himself, that much I know.”

            “It’s something to consider though.”

            “No.” You interjected, your voice hard, “It isn’t. My dad sees me for the whore that I am.”

            Renee snickered beside you, clearly amused by your antics. Dr. Mooney widened his eyes, briefly flashing them towards Dr. Frazer who sat in a chair similar to your own outside the circle.

            “Everyone here does.” You pointed out, gesturing to Renee, “She’s the only one who calls me what I am. Nympho, right.”

            “_____.” Dr. Mooney said your name firmly, likely in an attempt to control the conversation being had in front of his boss, but you were having none of it.

            “What?” You returned, shaking your head, “You taught us that the first step in recovery is admitting to our problems. I am a whore! I’m saying what it is!”

            In that moment, your eyes landed on Rafe who sat beside Dr. Mooney. He was slouched in his seat, his arms crossed in front of his chest. You hated that you couldn’t make out what he was thinking or feeling, but you hated even more that his stare was unwavering as you made a spectacle of yourself.

            “You’re a fucking asshole.” You pointed at Rafe. Then you turned to Renee, “And you’re a miserable bitch.” Renee laughed out loud at that.

            “_____!” Dr. Mooney & Albert said your name in unison, but it didn’t deter you.

            “And you two.” You stared at Dr. Mooney & Albert.

            “You’re weak.” You said to Albert. The flash of hurt on his face stayed with you but a moment as you focused your attention on the doctor directly across from you, “And you’re a fucking creep.”

            Dr. Mooney stood quickly then, dropping his clipboard onto his seat. You mirrored his movement, kicking your chair out from behind you so you could leave, “How’s that for harming those closest to me?”

            “_____.” Dr. Mooney’s voice was hard but a harder, deeper voice overpowered his.

            “Dr. Mooney.” Everyone stilled as Dr. Frazer spoke. It was only the second time in your stay at Arrowhead that you had heard his voice, “Sit back down.”

            Dr. Frazer then turned his eyes onto you. In an instant, your rebellious attitude had been stamped out. Unable to stand all eyes on you, & more so, how you had spit some horrible words at people, one of whom you particularly cared about, you rushed out of the room. You were a coward.

            No one came looking for you the rest of the day, not even Dr. Mooney. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. And now, you too didn’t have any friends. Albert had been your only one & you had insulted him in front of your peers. You cried yourself to sleep that night, knowing that the rest of your stay at the facility would be dreadful. But it was all your doing. There was no one to blame but yourself.

            The next morning though, before even breakfast, Nurse Carney appeared in your doorway.

            “Come with me.”

            Nurse Carney was usually all smiles & sunshine trapped within human skin. But there was no smile or bright radiance emanating from her as she looked at you.

            “Where are we going?”

            But she said nothing.

            So, you were forced to follow her through the corridors of the facility until she led you to the main office. At first, you thought she would bringing you to Dr. Mooney’s office, which you were far from looking forward to, however, she only led you past his office to another at the end of the hallway. The plate on the door made your stomach slosh.

            Dr. Holden Frazer.

            Oh, this couldn’t be good.

            Nurse Carney knocked on the door before the same solid voice from the day before sounded from the other side. She opened the door, poking her head in, “I have _____ here for you.”

            “Thank you, Nurse Carney. You may return to your duties.”

            Nurse Carney nodded, backing up to let you pass. You locked eyes with her once more, but she did not return any sort of kindness in her eyes.

            Dr. Frazer’s office was the complete opposite of Dr. Mooney’s. Whereas Dr. Mooney’s office was warm, welcoming, & comforting, Dr. Frazer’s was sterile, barren of any personality, & lacked any color. You felt immediately unease as you entered it.

            Behind the desk. Dr. Frazer sat upright in his chair, his eyes watching you as you stood before him shamefully. He then gestured for you to sit in one of the two chairs before his desk. Your defiance had been eradicated since yesterday, so you slowly took a seat. The chair itself as cold & uninviting as the office around it.

            “Your mother is on her way here.”

            Your jaw dropped. Oh, fuck.

            Dr. Frazer showed no reaction to your own, “After yesterday, she was called & informed about your outburst. So, she is coming in today for an appointment with myself to discuss your future here.”

            You pressed your lips together, “You’re kicking me out?”

            “That is up to her.” Dr. Frazer responded coldly.

            “And my father?”

            Dr. Frazer remained stoic, “Busy.”

            Of course. Of course he wouldn’t want to come. He was already ashamed of you. He didn’t need you to humiliate him further.

            You swallowed, “I’m sorry about yester—”

            “Apologies do not suffice here, Miss _____.” Dr. Frazer cut you off, “Your behaviour yesterday was unacceptable. You attacked patients & your attending doctor.”

            You hung your head, feeling heat bloom along your spine.

            “I know…”

            Silence hung in the air for a beat before Dr. Frazer spoke again.

            “She will be here within in the hour. I suggest you make yourself presentable & be on your best behaviour if you want to continue your treatment here.”

            You raised your head to meet his eyes behind your lashes.

            “Dismissed.”

            Surprised at his aloofness, you slowly raised yourself out of the seat. Though corporal punishment was no longer allowed in such facilities & care centers, you sure felt like you just had the whipping of your life.

            Exiting Dr. Frazer’s office, you found your way back to your room, ignoring any curious eyes or whispers as you passed by other patients. In the common area, you spotted Albert & Siena lounging on the couch. Albert met your eyes briefly before shaking his head at you & looking away. He was no longer your friend, & you didn’t blame him.

            In your room, you got dressed & applied what little make-up you were allowed to bring to the center. You feared facing your mother & that disappointed look in her eyes, but you were grateful your father wouldn’t be joining her. It wasn’t like you were hoping to see him any time soon either after what he suggested was happening between you & Dr. Mooney the last time he was here.

            After you finished getting ready, you decided to remain hidden in your room until Nurse Carney or another employee came looking for you. You were restless as you waited, watching the hour pass by. Your mother was surely there at that point & yet no one had come for you. You wondered if their meeting was to be one-on-one, & you would know your fate afterwards.

            It was only when another forty-five minutes passed after your mother’s expected arrival that a knock came on your door.

            “Come in.” You announced, though your voice was small.

            It was an assistant nurse who informed you that your mother was waiting for you in the lobby. Following the nurse, you were relieved that there were no familiar faces in the common area. Once in the lobby, you spotted your mother as she spoke heatedly on her cell phone. The nurse left you as you waited off to the side for you mother to get off the phone. She was likely speaking to your father, updating him on how you were no longer allowed treatment at Arrowhead.

            However, once she got off the phone & spotted you, she grinned & approached you before embracing you.

            “Oh, honey.” She smelled like rose water. You buried your face into her blazer as she held you. Tears unexpectedly wetted the collar of her jacket.

            “Mom, I’m sorry.” You lifted your head to look at her, “I’m so sorry.”

            “Baby.” She cupped your cheek before glancing around, “C’mon darling. We’re going out for lunch.”

            “What? What do you mean?”

            Your mother frowned then, “Not here. There’s a lot we must talk about.”

            Your mother was not a fan of Dr. Frazer; she made that abundantly clear as she drove the two of you to a nearby brunch spot.

            “What a cold man.” She had commented, “And how dare he suggest your removal because of a little outburst. Ya know, Steve Summers put his nephew up at Arrowhead, it’s how we learned about it, & that boy was a handful. The stories Steve told your father & I about how much trouble he caused at that facility, yet they kept him. And that doctor, if you can even call him that, has the audacity to want to have you removed? Over my dead body.”

            Your mother’s protectiveness made you smile for the first time in a long time. Now you wish you had been preset in their meeting to see her give Dr. Frazer the same no bullshit attitude he dished.

            “So, I’m staying?”

            “Of course!” Your mother shook her head, “It’s the best treatment center within 100 miles & I’ll be damned if we put somewhere less than that.”

            You felt conflicted at staying, but at least you wouldn’t embarrass your father further.

            Speaking of your dad, “How’d dad take it?”

            Your mother sighed, pursing her lips, “I haven’t told him. Won’t tell him.”

            This was shocking, & out of character. A million questions lied at the tip of your tongue, but your mother pulled into the restaurant. Once the two of you were seated, you were finally able to ask the first of many.

            “Why aren’t you telling dad?” You asked, uninterested in the food menu before you.

            “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Your mother informed you. Her behaviour changed then, her poise transitioning from confident to worrisome.

            “Your father is going to trial in a couple weeks.”

            “What?!” She shushed you at your surprised reaction.

            “Honey, lower your voice.”

            Lowering your voice, you repeated the shock, “Trial for what?”

            She sighed, dropping her own menu on the table, “John is suing him.”

            Your heart sped up. His TA was suing him?

            “For wrongful termination.” Your mother shared further.

            You sputtered, “What? That’s fucking stupid.”

            “Language.” She reprimanded but ultimately nodded, “But I agree. Unfortunately, John knows what he’s doing. He’ll lose but he doesn’t care.”

            “If he’s going to lose then why is it going to trial?”

            Your mother peered at you then, her eyes sorrowful, “To get the attention of the university. When a case goes to trial any faculty involved must be suspended until the trial closes.”

            “He’s doing it to punish him…” Your voice softened.

            “Yes.” Your mother nodded, “He doesn’t care about winning any money otherwise he would’ve settled out of court. What he wants is to ruin your father’s name.”

            You collapsed against your seat, tears lining your vision, “This is all my fault.”

            “Oh, honey…” But she didn’t argue against your claim.

            “If I hadn’t…” You licked your dry lips, “Then dad would be fine.”

            The two of you sat in silence for some time while your mother ordered for the both of you. But once the food came, you hardly touched your plate as your mother picked at hers.

            “Fortunately,” your mother began, “it will be a closed trial. But…”

            You stared at her, “But what?”

            “Because your father fired John for, you know, your name & condition will be revealed.”

            “They can do that?”

            “You’re not a minor, honey. And having placed you into a recovery center, it shows that your father is aware of your… problems. He could be held accountable.”

            “Wait, so, John could win?”

            “It’s very unlikely.” Your mother reminded you, “Your father has a good set of lawyers defending his case.”

            “But you said…”

            “I know what I said.” The cracks in your mother’s tough exterior was beginning to show. She wasn’t telling you the full truth, that your father may actually lose the case, thus ultimately his career & reputation.

            “I can’t believe this happening.” And it was all your fault. If only you hadn’t approached John, just left him alone. Then none of this would be happening.

            “It’ll be okay. But that’s why I won’t be telling your father about yesterday. He already has enough going on.”

            “Yeah, I get it.” You whispered, shameful.

            Your mother got the check & once the two of you were in the car on the way back to the facility, you finally answered the question you knew she was avoiding thinking about.

            “What if he loses, Mom?”

            Your mother gripped your hand, shaking it in a reassuring manner. She smiled at you, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, “He won’t.”

            But you weren’t so sure.

            After your mom dropped you off out front, Nurse Carney was waiting for you. She led you back inside. It was midday, lunch time. You had hardly eaten at the restaurant, but your appetite had disappeared with the information surrounding your father’s upcoming trial. Nurse Carney checked you in at the desk then dismissed you to head back to your common area. But your heart was racing, your head was full of noise. You needed to talk to someone. Now.

            Ignoring her, you instead went in the opposite direction of the youth wing & towards the doctor’s offices.

            “_____!” Nurse Carney hollered behind you. You sped up in your walk as you heard her exit the front office to follow after you.

            You had just made it to your destination, knocking rapidly on the door when Nurse Carney appeared next to you.

            “You are not following protocol.”

            “Fuck your protocol.” You rushed out, your breathing coming in shallowly.

            Then the door before you swung open & Dr. Mooney stood in surprise as his eyes glanced between you & Nurse Carney.

            “I’m sorry, Dr. Mooney, I’ll take her back to her room.”

            But Dr. Mooney frowned, looking at you, “Are you okay?”

            “No.” Tears skipped down your cheeks, “I really need you.”

            He took you in for a moment longer before nodding once, “It’s okay, Nurse Carney. I’ll see her back myself.”

            It was obvious that Nurse Carney didn’t agree but she wouldn’t argue.

            Dr. Mooney closed the door behind you as you stepped inside to stand in the middle of his office. Sobs racked your body as you finally broke down.

            “_____, what’s going on?”

            But you couldn’t talk. Not yet. Instead, you broke another protocol.

            You couldn’t think about Rafe’s intrusive words or Albert’s year old gossip. What you needed right then was the only person who had consistently shown care towards you in the last couple months. Spinning around, you hugged Dr. Mooney. You latched your arms together around his back & pressed your face into his chest. You didn’t care about the no contact policy. Because right then you didn’t view yourself as a patient or Dr. Mooney as your care provider. What you needed was the only friend you had in this hell hole.

            Dr. Mooney never returned the hug, but neither removed you. He let you cry against him. And for that you were thankful. However, after a few minutes & you had calmed down, he gently placed his hands on your shoulders & placed some distance between the two of you. He angled his head to meet your bleary eyes.

            “Talk to me.”

            You shook your head, “I can’t do this alone.”

            He frowned but nodded, “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. I promise.”

            And you knew it to be true. Dr. Mooney would never let you down, & that’s exactly what you needed.

a much longer part to i burn! i wanted to give you all a pretty lengthy update as i won't be able to update either of my rafe series for maybe another week as i will be going on vacation! so, always, please share your thoughts w me via comments, reblogs w reviews, or talking to me in the ask box. i love all the love ya'll send my way!

thank you for reading!

beau<3

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Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

taglist: @jsrafesgirl @bunnycvnts

to be added to a taglist read rule 11 on my pinned post. requests will be dismissed otherwise.

[echo-bleu]

Disability pride request? Two characters of your choice hanging out, maybe one using two forearm crutches and one using two canes. They can be friends or partners - I just generally love seeing disabled characters interactng with one another!

How about three disabled characters?

Once upon a time @camille-lachenille sent me a prompt about Míriel having Ehler-Danlos Syndrome. I had already sketched a disabled Celegorm with EDS in mind and, thinking about how it's genetic, had an epiphany about Celebrimbor (and the meaning of his name) and I drew him as well. So I wrote a fic about all three of them dealing with chronic pain, but I still hadn't drawn Míriel. That oversight is now fixed!

They have more in common than just chronic illness xD.

This is still titled "The EDS gang" in my files, I'm going to stick to it. Set sometime in Fourth Age Valinor, when most things are good again...

Disabled Tolkien characters series

(Feel free to send me more disability prompts! I love drawing them.)

More ramblings about disability aids that devolved into bullet-point headcanons under the cut. ID and transcription at the end, but they're also in alt text.

[CW: this is all fairly light but discussion of death and trauma and you know, everything that comes with these three.]

I do not know how to make comics. I'm sure that's very obvious but, you know, learning new things and all that. One thing I learned was that my usual style of rendering does not work with it as well so I rendered them entirely twice.

It was meant to be day 21 and 22 of my October challenge, because surely I can draw and colour a full page in a day (spoilers: no). In the end it was a combined 15 hours of work over 3 and a half days because I made it as complicated as I possibly could 😭 Still, I had fun and learned a lot.

Note: Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is a connective tissue disorder, affecting basically how your cells are glued together. There are a lot of different symptoms (and different types of EDS) but a frequent one is joint pain and hypermobility, and it's at least partly inherited.

Míriel:

Red was Míriel's colour first. She's not into gaudy things and rarely wears vivid colours, but almost always something red. She barely wears any jewellery since reembodiment, mostly for sensory reason (She is very autistic. That's something she gave Fëanor, Curufin, Caranthir, Ambarussa and Celebrimbor, at least.)

She died of post-partum (and general) depression and energy depletion from childbirth or something, but the chronic illness that was taking all of her energy and keeping her from her craft certainly didn't help.

Also pregnancy was horribly rough on her, partly because EDS can be affected by hormonal changes.

She's actually been better since reembodiment, because she has better accommodations (Finwë did his best but he was very lost) and also a Vala on hand who makes her very good painkilling tea.

She wears knitted compression gloves that she designed to help with hand pains.

Her wheelchair is of Noldor make, but I'm sure Celebrimbor will have suggestions for improving it.

The tapestry that she is weaving is actually this painting of Finrod that I did a while ago. I figure that she's representing calmer, nicer things now that she doesn't have to weave her grandchildren's downfall and deaths.

Celegorm:

He was in a relationship with Oromë before the Exile. After his reembodiment, it took them a while by they talked it out and forgave each other. Oromë doesn't quite get elves, but he's really supportive.

He has a pair of wolf-head canes carved by Nerdanel. He alternatively uses both, just one and sometimes none depending on activity/pain level.

He wears bandages as compression garments because this is a world without elastane. His leggings have reinforced knees for support.

He's always heard about Míriel having the same thing as he does from Finwë, and he knew that when he started showing symptoms, Fëanor was terrified that he'd fade too. So for a long time, Míriel's story was kind of hanging above his head.

That's why it takes him a while to go seek her out after he's reembodied. Celebrimbor understands why it's important to him and he pushed him to it a little bit, so Celegorm dragged him along.

They're going to get along great. Míriel is both the quintessential grandmother and also she has a twisted sense of humour that Celegorm will just love.

Celebrimbor:

Celegorm was always his favourite uncle, and they became very close when Celebrimbor started having symptoms in the early years in Exile, and Celegorm stayed with Curufin in Himlad for him.

It took Celebrimbor a while to forgive him after Returning (not as long as Curufin but still) but they've gone back to being really close.

He was really unlucky with reembodiment: while he wasn't reborn with the physical aspect of his torture, the memory of pain and the trauma made his chronic pain a lot worse than it was before, and he can no longer walk unaided.

He designed the silver ring and wrist splints back in Eregion with Narvi's help, and ended up literally living up to his name (which means "silver fist/grasping hand").

Paradoxically these were a great motivation for him to work through his trauma and go back to the forge, because he couldn't find a silversmith in Valinor who could make good enough ones for him, even with all of his sketches and specifications.

A lot of his work since reembodiment has been designing and making disability aids for people.

He uses platform crutches to spare his hands as much as possible. He invented and designed them, of course, as well as the KAFO brace that he wears here. He's also a part-time wheelchair user.

He is still wearing dwarven beads in his hair. He obviously didn't bring anything back from Middle-Earth but he asked Gimli to make them for him in remembrance of Narvi. His tunic is also dwarven-inspired.

He is pretty chill about Sauron here. I don't know if there was a redemption (I have feelings about @chthonion's The Harrowing and @mynameisjessejk's Otter Mayhem) or if he's just been through enough elf-therapy to be able to joke about it. Celegorm's sense of humour is just Like That.

Celegorm and Celebrimbor are about to try Vairë's special painkilling tea for the first time 👀

Between all of them they should really open a disability aids shop or something. They just might! Míriel doesn't really ever leave Vairë's house but I think Celegorm and Celebrimbor will keep visiting her a lot, and eventually all of the grandkids will as well.

Image description and transcriptions:

Two digital comic book pages.

Image 1: The first case takes the whole width, showing two pairs of feet with each two canes/crutches on a tiled floor, with a speech bubble saying "Do you think she'll want to see us?"

The second line has two cases in 2/3 and 1/3 format. The first shows two hands in red fingerless gloves working on a tapestry on a loom. The second shows part of a light-skinned face in profile, with curly white hair. Three speech bubbles say "My love?" "Um?" "There are people here asking for you."

The bottom part has one case off-center showing the same hand undoing the brake of a wheelchair, with a speech bubble saying "Your grandson and your great-grandson." above and one saying "I'll be right here." below. Then a full-length off-case portrait of Miríel, a light-skinned elf with shoulder-length curly white sitting in a wheelchair and pushing herself. She's wearing a pale pink embroidered dress with red accents, red fingerless gloves and elbow pad and brown boots and smiling.

Image 2: A single large case shows two elves standing in a room with a tiled floor, with a large door and two tables behind them. There are thread spools on one table and a tea set on the other. One elf, Celebrimbor, is brown-skinned and slightly chubby, with long black hair in a braided bun, wearing a red tunic and dark green pants. He is leaning on two decorated platform combo crutches made of wood and metal, with a KAFO brace on his leg. He wears finger and hand silver splints. The other elf, Celegorm, is pale and has long white hair in a high ponytail with small braids, he has tattoos on his neck and arms and he wears bandages on his shoulders, elbows and wrist. He wears a green tunic, leggings and wrap-around gaiters. He is leaning on a cane and holding up another cane, pointing at the first elf. Both canes have handles carved in the shape of wolf heads.

The speech bubbles are arranged around and below them, giving this dialogue, with the speakers distinguished by the shape of the bubble (the parts in parentheses are smaller text in the bubbles):

Celegorm: "My lady, my name is Tyelkormo, and this is my nephew Tyelpë." Miríel: "I know who you are, my wonderful children. Come sit." Celebrimbor: "That would be nice, thank you." Miríel: "Vairë, my love, would you make us some tea?" Celebrimbor: "My lady!" Celegorm: "A Vala who can make tea! (I could never get Oromë to do it.)" Miríel: "It was a long domestication process." Vairë (off screen): "Hey!" Celebrimbor: "Instant hot water! That’s nice. (I wonder if I could replicate that.)" Miríel: "She makes wonderful hot water bottles." Celegorm: "Oromë just uses his hands as hot pads." Celebrimbor: "Ew, I didn’t need to know that." Celegorm: "What? Just because your Maia burns everything he touches–" Celebrimbor: "Shut up." Miríel: "You must both tell me everything about yourself. And your partners!"

[bachiras-toaster]

The videos : ̗̀➛

GETO SUGURU x f!reader (x GOJO SATORU)

cw: filming, voyeurism, m!masturbation

wc: 1.3k

an: connected to something i wrote for kinktober. as i finished writing one of the drafts i literally had an epiphany and needed to write this story for geto’s perspective too. you’ll get gojo’s perspective on day 23 c;

link to the kinktober fic

That video was not in Geto’s list of things that he expected to see that night, especially not after the wonderful evening that you had just shared with him. The entire evening out you spent with Suguru was full of laughs, jokes, flirting, and much more. Hell, he even walked you to the apartment of his best friend for convenience.

Despite being extremely close with Gojo, Geto could never help but feel a tinge of jealousy whenever he remembered that being best friends with Satoru meant that he got to spend more time with you. Of course, you knew Gojo first, and that’s how you had even come to meet Geto, but ever since knowing you, Geto has never once been able to get his mind off of you.

He spoke about you endlessly to Gojo, to which he would just encourage his words and implored him to talk more about what he did with you. Whenever hs spoke to his best friend about the time he spent with you, he spared no details. Not only because Gojo was his best friend and he, quite literally, told him everything, but also because whenever he started talking about you, he just couldn’t stop. It was like your name rolled off his tongue in such an easy way that he was like an open faucet of memories he shared with you.

Even when it came down to the private stuff, he left nothing out. In fact, he felt himself go into such extreme detail when he described his intimate moments with you. You had never actually had his dick inside of you, but he did give you head on occasion. And whenever he told Gojo about the night where he did, he would talk about it in such immense detail that it was like Gojo was practically seeing the moment unfold as he told him. He described the curve of your ass, the way you tasted, how you sounded- Everything.

And despite all that Geto had told, Gojo swore from the bottom of his heart that he had zero interest in you— Sexually or romantically. You and Gojo were best friends and he could never see you the way Geto did, ever.

Gojo wasn’t exactly the master of deception, but maybe he just believed him because of how close the two of them were. A part of Geto had always known that Gojo must’ve been lying because there was no way that he couldn’t harbour any feelings for you, but he chose to believe Gojo’s words every time anyway.

So when Geto returned back home from his date with you to see a single video message in his phone from Gojo, he stood still for a whole minute or two in his bedroom just rewatching the fifteen-second clip that Gojo had sent him.

“Don't be a brat, (Y/n).” The heavy pants from the video groaned- The voice clearly belonged to Satoru. "Tell Suguru who's fucking you good."

The sounds of your moans, as well as the endless cries for Satoru’s name filled Geto’s ears. He had to seat himself down because of the shock, but his eyes were still widened at the screen, replaying the video for what felt like the ninth time now.

However, he wasn’t as angry or irritated as one would expect— Which is probably why Gojo had even sent the video of him fucking you to him in the first place. He wasn’t jealous or annoyed, he was actually feeling quite aroused. Maybe if it was some other random guy pounding his dick into the girl that he liked, he would’ve felt murderous. But it was Gojo. Hell, he had even sent a nice, high-quality video to his best friend so that they could share the moment together.

He just couldn’t look away. It was such perfect angle. Your parted legs making way for Gojo’s heavy dick inside of you, Satoru’s large arms laying on your hips as he pounded away like you were just a little fuck toy, and the way he could see your slick line his dick in such high quality just made his mouth water even more. There was a clear erection growing in his pants, and he had been involuntarily inching towards it as he kept replaying the video again and again.

He had already allowed his veiny cock to spring free as he swiped his thumb over his slit, gathering his precum so that he could prepare fucking into his fist at the video. He had already screen recorded the message the second time the video replayed, so the moment was already perfectly preserved in his camera roll, but he continued watching the clip from him and Satoru’s text messages anyway.

With the video still playing in the background, Geto frantically typed away with his left hand, sending the messages in such a hurried and desperate pace as he continued to get off to your filthy moans.

“fuckimg hell”

“shes takinf yoy so well”

“god sje looks so wet”

He panted as the text messages went through amat a quick rate. He didn’t cease typing. In fact, he was already preparing himself to send another load of desperate text messages, hoping that they would get through to Satoru in time. They were just another load of short texts, this time asking for requests, begging Satoru to make her scream his name next.

Likewise, in the same manner in which Gojo had done, Geto opened the camera and aimed the lens towards his thick dick, his hand already stroking it harshly with the sound of wer squelching being hard as his hands ran down his length. Though, in contrast to the video that Gojo had sent him, instead of being just a few seconds long, Geto had decided to film right until he was able to catch his high.

There were times he sped up, and times he slowed down, but the things he said were all the same. His low grunts were accompanied by the sound of your name heavy on his tongue, as well as short babbles about how pretty you looked getting fucked dumb by his best friend. His tip was practically glowing red as his palm sped up, the though of your wet pussy being pounded keeping him going.

“God, (Y/n), this is all for you.” He groaned out, the sound of his lip smacking along with his low moans was heard in the background of him jacking off. “You looked so fucking beautiful getting fucked by Satoru… I wanna have my turn with you next…”

He felt himself chuckle as he sped himself up even more, his back arching for better access as his stomach began to knot with the sensation.

“M’gonna be so fucking mean with you the next time I see you… Gonna make you take my dick instead of my tongue… And m’gonna make you take it until you pass out…” He grunted heavily, hoping that the video was catching every single filthy threat that he was allowing to escape his lips.

Not before long, he had released himself all over his palms, letting out a loud groan, along with tour name, as he did so.

Five minutes and seventeen seconds, the video time read. And without a second thought, he sent it straight back.

[riansdiary]

New epiphany born and a new success story from my "change your thoughts" post!

I had another epiphany as I was teaching someone about the law.

3d = the newspapers

You/Us = the writer/the reporter of the news

4d/subconscious = the printer

The only thing we need to do or our job is to write what you want. Affirm/decide whatever your desired technique but please don't do it to get. It's like you're writing whatever as fast as you can and the result is a mediocre edition. Affirm to remind yourself it's done calmly. Be aware that whatever you say in your mind is what's gonna be in the latest news soon.

This is what I did just now before writing this post:

Rian thought of her desire. Before she writes, she asks herself "what do I want to see in the news?" Okay, what I wanna see is me having my desire.

"I already have it. It's done."

She even decided to do it like a reporter for the news in a funny way. Okay what is in the news for today, Rian?"

"Hello everyone! This is the news! I'm reporting the news for today and guess what? I have it! Rian has it!"

She thought of what she wanted to see therefore she wrote as the writer that she has it.

This is what's happening when you're wavering because you checked that it's not in the 3d yet:

You, the writer/journalist grabbed the newspaper from yesterday. You were finding where the latest news is.

"What the hell! I wrote it! Where is it? It's not here! The latest news is not here! What the heck did I do wrong? No!!! The latest is not here! How do I know what's happening?"

You were focusing on the newspaper from yesterday and you weren't writing a new one! The writer simply forgot that she is the f*cking writer! She's the one who writes the new editions! No one writes it for her but herself! So you decide whether you want yesterday's newspaper or you simply write the latest news.

The writer has a choice. Does she just give up and copy the old newspaper or does she reject that and start writing the latest that she wants to see?

Accepting the 3d as facts and giving up is the writer deciding to just copy yesterday's edition. You affirming and reminding yourself you have it is the writer choosing to write what she wants which is the latest.

Wanna see the latest, writer? Okay, this is what we do. Ask yourself what you want the latest news to be and start writing. You decide what the latest news is.

Once the writer has written whatever it is then it's done. Why? The writer is reporting on what has already happened. Once you want something, it instantly manifests in the 4D. Let's stop thinking of it as a process because that is when we feel scared or worried. Knowing it's already done is enough.

We then send it to the subconscious mind so it can print it for you. That's how it works and I hope this helps everyone understand the law a bit more.

I have another one though. Let's say you ordered online. That's us being a boss and doing our job which is ordering. Okay! The items will be delivered to you soon. You know that right? That's a good one too. You know it's done and there's no way it won't be delivered. It's the subconscious mind hearing your order (reminding yourself you have it) and printing that or delivering that to you. Now relax in the fact that you already have what you ordered/what you want.

Now about my success story. I said in my "change your thoughts" post that I'm manifesting a snack. I read it again today and decided to follow what I said. Shift into the version of me who has it. I dismissed the 3d and stepped into the shoes of the version of me who has it. The version of me who has that wouldn't find it, she knows where it is. It's in the pantry. She would relax because it's in the pantry so I forgot about that desire because I assumed it was in the pantry. I stopped seeing it as a process. I shifted my mindset about things now.

I stepped into the shoes of the version of me who has her dream life just now and I realized that the version of me wouldn't worry about sh*t!! Consider it done. You wouldn't worry about it if you have it.

I was annoyed at myself about finding it in the 3d at the moment but I reminded myself to leave the 3d alone. Don't look for it in the 3d. Duh, it's yesterday's newspaper but the news is gonna change. It's temporary. So I stopped myself from acknowledging the 3d. Okay, I shifted myself to the version of me who has it. All we need to do is accept we do have it! We shifted, okay congratulations! There's nothing left to do but keep accepting your desires are now facts! It's not our job to change the 3d so just leave it alone and forget about that.

Realize that as soon as you decide that you shifted and now you're the version of you who has it, there's nothing left to do but to remind yourself it's done. Ask yourself. What would you do if you already have it? Go and relax in the knowing it's done.

Again. Ask yourself. "Do you have your dream life?"

What would the version of you who has it say?

"I have my dream life. Why are you asking me?"

I decided to let the 3d do its job and I'm gonna do my own job which is to know it's done. I'm the version of me who has it so it's not a process anymore! Once I said I have it, It does not matter what the 3d says!

I'm just fully relaxed now that I know I have it. It's a law, it can never fail me. Whenever we find something in the 3d, it's like Neville telling Abdullah that it didn't work. That he's not in Barbados. He did not step into the mindset of already being in Barbados. Abdullah questions what he's saying because he's literally in Barbados. You're in Barbados. Door slam 🚪

You have your dream life, it's only you who's not accepting it. Leave the 3d alone and let it do its job. It's not your job to change it. Your only job is to know it's done. As soon as you ordered that shirt, you knew it was gonna come right? It's gonna be delivered. You didn't check if it's in the house when you ordered the shirt right? That's stupid. I know you're checking and said it's not there yet but you know you "bought" the shirt right? Meaning, it is yours 100%! You have no doubt while you were waiting for your package (whatever you bought from an online shop) because you know it's done and it's being delivered to you. So do what you would do when you're waiting for your package to come.

Sit back, relax and chill. Do what you wanna do. Continue living your life knowing it's done and just do what makes you happy. It will stop and distract you from checking. Also, you can check your mind instead. Be the version of you who has it and say "I have it."

Live in the reality where your desires are a fact. Disregard and leave the 3d alone. Say "all my desires are facts now so yes I do have it"

Our job is not to change the 3d but it's to know it's done meaning it's being delivered to you but at this moment you ordered it so technically you do have it. When you buy something online, as soon as you press buy, you know it's already yours.

The actual success story now. I was craving this cracker brand. I decided to disregard the 3d and think that it's in the pantry. I just relaxed in the knowing that it's in the pantry. I manifested it. It's done. I no longer made it a process. I just accepted I have it and relaxed. My dad and my siblings today then came home with the exact pack of crackers I wanted!

I also recommend the list method. It helps you realize and accept that you have whatever it is that you want. It's done. Consider your desires manifested and relax.

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms]

Epiphany

Summary: Mansion Baron Park Seonghwa was tired of living in a dusty mansion so he decided to finally hire some help. On your first day working for him you noticed something strange about the man, but you can't ask him because he is almost always gone during the day till your done with your shift.

(A/n: Watched the Halloween performance video for 'A Black Cat Nero' and it HEAVILY inspired this. there also might be a little bit werewolf!straykids mentioned if i continue this but idk yet- its a bit of a clusterfuck bc as i was writing i just kept getting more ideas 🙄)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: he word 'smirk' probably written too much,

Pairings: Seonghwa x fem!reader, and a little bit of Hongjoong x fem!reader(?)

Seonghwa hated dust. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, and lately, he hasn't been able to keep up with the amount in his large home. So while he was at the store one night and he heard you talking to the cashier about how you were laid off from the last family you cleaned for, he innocently followed you out of the store to ask if he could give you a job. You needed the money and you were looking but you couldn't help but think something was off with him, but hesitantly you said yes. He gave you his number and address and wrote down a date and time for you to come by.

His home was rather on the outskirts of the city you lived in thus you couldn't take your usual form of transportation (the bus) the entire way there. You took it as far as possible and then rode your bike the rest of the way. When you arrived you had a feeling his house would be big but you didn't think it would be this big, it was a solid three stories and most definitely there was another below. You decide to put your bike somewhere it wouldn't be quite as visible. You were somewhat out of breath so you took a moment to catch up with your lungs before you knocked on the door. But before you could the door abruptly opened with Seonghwa holding it open.

"Welcome, Y/n, I hope you found your way here safely." He spoke softly towards you with a faint smile on his lips. "I noticed you didn't drive up? Did you leave your vehicle at the gate?" He peered at you waiting for you to answer as if he was trying to read you in some way.

You didn't particularly want to tell the beautiful man before you that you're poor but lying could only lead to more problems down the road. "Ah, no actually, I usually take the bus but i couldn't take it all the way here so I biked part of the way."

He scowled lightly seemingly disapprovingly before training his face back to before. "I see. Well then, if you will follow me I will show what you will be doing for me." He turned around heading inside and walking slow enough as though to make you you're able to follow behind him.

When he had finished the tour of the upstairs, and main floor and showing you what you would be doing you noticed a door and you mustered up the courage to ask Seonghwa about it and his only response was "You needn't worry about it, that area is for me to clean." And you probably wouldn't have as much curiosity as you do if it weren't for the eerie smile he gave while saying it to you but you can manage to hold in your piqued interest. He swiftly changed the topic of conversation by asking if you would like to start working that day for a limited amount of time and you didn't have anything else going on for the rest of the day so you said yes. He reminded you where the cleaning supplies were and led you to where he wanted you to start and once you did he walked away.

When you finished cleaning and it reached the designated time you agreed to work until (six thirty), you walk through the house (mansion) to try and find Seonghwa. As you rounded a corner you nearly bumped into someone and lost your footing trying to keep that from happening. Mentally preparing yourself to fall you almost don't notice the firm grasp on your waist.

"I am so sorry, Mr. P- You aren't Seonghwa?" You study the new handsome face belonging to the hand on your side. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you and sorry for nearly knocking you over. Do you happen to know where Mr. Park is?" You step away and hold out your hand for him to shake as you introduce yourself.

The man in front of you now glances at your hand before taking it in his own and proceeding to lean down and kiss the back of it. Your face flushes almost instantaneously as he stands straight again while he smirks at you. "I am Hongjoong. It is a pleasure to meet you. And Seonghwa is just down the hall in his study. Are you working here permanently?" While he speaks that smug smile never leaves his face despite his eyebrow raising in question.

"Yes, I will be working here permanently, today was my first half of a day. And thank you for telling me where Mr. Park is, Have a nice rest of your evening." You smile at Hongjoong as you pass him to go to Seonghwa's office.

When you get to the door you knock and here a faint 'come in'. As you push open the door Seonghwa starts speaking, "Hongjoong I thought i told you i was done with the conversation and asked you to leave me be for a- ah, Y/n, I'm sorry i thought it was someone else. Is it time for you to leave already? Time must have gotten away from me. Let me get you your check and walk you out." When he noticed it was you a kind smile grew on his face and he began standing.

As your making your way home you can't help but feel uneasy. A feeling of being watched looming over you. You're waiting at the bus stop when a black car pulls up. You avert your gaze as the window rolls down, a man inside the car calls out to you in a voice you recognize. "Y/n, do you need a ride? Seonghwa told me you take the bus and i couldn't in good conscience let a woman go home by herself. It's dangerous out here at night." It's Hongjoong, just as your about to turn him down you hear a very strange noise in the woods and quickly move to get into his front seat. He smirks at you, "Eager to go home with me?" You open your mouth to correct him but realize he was being sarcastic. You close your mouth and tell him your address... You can pick up your bike tomorrow...

The ride to your apartment was quiet, not even the radio. And even though your in the bustling city now you still feel like your being watched. Hongjoong parks on the curb and you get out and close the door before he could say anything (if he was going to say anything). Once you've finally gotten into your apartment you start your nightly routine and can't help but think about your mysterious new employer and his possibly even more mysterious friend. They were fascinating men and you couldn't get them off your mind.

~~~~~

should i continue this?

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

What is your favourite Steven Universe fusion?

my favourite fusions

the answer, no pun intended, is garnet.

also rainbow quartz. they’re both really special.

fusions as relationships

on homeworld, fusion only happened between gems who were equals, because they’re the same gems. this is what made fusion between a ruby + a sapphire & a diamond + a pearl such a significant symbol of the rebellion. it was also important that ruby, the gem who is supposed to be “inferior” to sapphire, initiated the fusion. like ruby, pearl initiated her fusion with rose. they made their own decisions based on their personal feelings. just as sapphire was frozen & felt she had been saved, pearl swept rose off her feet.

garnet’s line from stronger than you, “but i think you’re just mad ‘cause you’re single!” is funny, but it also reflects her sympathy for homeworld gems who don’t understand this kind of love. if fusion represents relationships, homeworld gems only experience coworker-like connections. ruby chose to stay with sapphire because she loved her and not because of rules, just as pearl did with rose.

as pearl + rose fell in love, their intense emotions were frightening, unheard of, new. the turning point happened after rose saw garnet, so beautiful & unique, embodying something rose had been confused & apprehensive about. with an understanding, she had that epiphany. how could anyone question something so amazing? an important part of the rebellion is fighting for freedom to be who you genuinely are. being who you are means loving who you love. falling in love forms relationships with endless possibilities, as it is based on who you are instead of who you’re expected to be, decisions instead of rules. of course true love is perplexing, but it's also sincere, strong, pure, & beautiful.

then it happened: a fusion between a diamond and a pearl, creating a new individual and therefore helping build a relationship between two individuals.

it helped them stop questioning their gems, & both fusions went from being hesitant to proud. steven learns about love because of garnet, just as his mother did. pearl apologizes the first time (much like “i’m so sorry,” “no, no, don’t be!”) but in we need to talk she interrupts rose so that they can dance in front of the camera, showing off their fusion & therefore the connection they have.

fusions as individuals

garnet holds the group together, just as a fusion is held together as a stable relationship. even in the most difficult circumstances. she’s wise, calming, & gives good advice. she doesn’t show her emotions much because she often focuses on maintaining the bonds between the crystal gems. her pain is often surprising to people, because she is constantly trying to keep it together. she also has amazing, often overlooked character development. being traumatized by blue diamond the first time ruby + sapphire fused, to being afraid of going near blue, to shamelessly saying, “you’ll have to go through me!” after fusing at the ball when steven visits homeworld.

here’s something i wrote about rainbow quartz. since garnet & rainbow would really be able to understand each other, it’s likely that garnet spoke to her about personal things such as her trauma with blue. who knows, maybe it was rainbow who first told garnet she was made of love. maybe it was an affirmation in their early days, as they were becoming comfortable as themselves. i like to think of them as best friends.

(here’s one really sweet rupphire detail, too)

there’s something really comforting about both of these ships & fusions. if you’ve ever been made to feel different from everyone and just out of place for a variety of reasons you’ll most likely feel seen and understood by at least one of these… six characters

[madqueenalanna]

i think 6x19 "the choice" is the closest house md comes to genuinely giving us all the pieces about house/wilson and i'm going to explain why (delusional)

the a plot is an extremely in-denial gay man collapsing at the altar with his almost-wife. we discover over the course of the episode that he used to have a "roommate" he had sex with for years who clearly still has feelings for him, and his symptoms were caused by the brain damage he gave himself in conversion therapy. it's an unusually real, sad ending, where the fiancee tells him to figure himself out and leaves as he begs her to stay and insists he's straight for real. no real closure beyond that

now, many episodes of house have the b plot (either the team's personal drama or a clinic patient) connect thematically with the a plot, either to jog house's brain blasts or just to form a cohesive narrative. so what's the b plot this episode? wilson's relationship with sam is getting more serious and he wants to distract house. house starts the episode waking up in a neighbor kid's bed bc he got so drunk he was sleepwalking. house has a long, explicit history of self-medicating when he's in emotional distress. house goes out three times with his fellows and all three serve to tie him back to wilson:

he goes out with taub and his wife. this is to highlight the strained awkwardness of a straight relationship, and esp when the guy has a history of infidelity (at least one of wilson's marriages dissolved due to him cheating, and taub is already cheating on rachel again)

he goes out with thirteen to a lesbian bar. this is connecting them as both bisexual, and they talk about gaydar and then thirteen talks about how it's cruel that the patient is lying to his fiancee about his sexuality bc honesty is the most important thing, including honesty to one's self. this is easily applicable to house needing to admit his feelings for wilson. (extremely delusional) the lesbian bar is called "foxhole" and the saying "there are no atheists in the foxhole" specifically refers to situations where one has no choice but to give in to faith. so. also the gay patient in s2 has a parasite he got from foxes

he goes out with chase and foreman and they perform karaoke. specifically they sing "midnight train to georgia" and they don't change the pronouns?? so chase is singing lead about another man while foreman and house back him up?? it's about following a man across the country bc you would rather give up your entire life than lose him (house does this at the end of s8). one of the outro lines (not in the episode, but i've listened to the song a lot) is "my man, his girl" and like. c'mon

there's a great moment where the patient is denying he's gay and he says "i'm as straight as either of you" to house and thirteen, who makes a face in the background. let's be so for real here

the episode ends with cuddy asking if house wants to go out, and he asks if wilson put her up to this too. she denies it and says lucas is working late so she's free and they can be friends. house says friends is the last thing he wants to be (we know). she leaves, and he rubs his leg, almost reaches for ibuprofen, and grabs whiskey instead as the ep ends. again, bookended on self-medicating, and we know his leg hurts worse during emotional pain– he got an mri when stacy left in s2 for the same reason. when house gets his big epiphany he says "wisdom is knowing the difference between what you can change and what you were born with" and he says this while having an argument with wilson!

i choose to believe at least some of this was intentional on the part of the writer bc he also wrote "lines in the sand" which is one of the most empathetic episodes in general and also gives us a lot of patient-house connections. i'm well aware this reads like pepe silvia qanon for gay people

[draguuula]

TAKE MY EYES.

synopsis: mammon tries to verbally tell you he appreciates you. kinda angst but full of soft comfort for all my therapist mcs. wrote this when i was at school and just finished... Σ(×_×;)! not proofread... again.

golden flecks drowning in an azul pool glanced at your form from across the picnic table. you had chosen to sit outside despite the slight chilly breeze as it was peaceful and quiet in contrast to the usual bustling atmosphere inside of the R.A.D. cafeteria.

his eyes searched your form with your back turned to him whilst you hummed in thought to yourself, thinking of what snack to get from the vending machine. he squinted harder. why did he feel so strongly about you? it wasn't even the sappy need to wrap you in his arms, he noted, no - not like the dramas he watched with satan and asmodeus. at least, not just that.

his features softened as he looked down at his hands with a thoughtful gaze. he just wanted oh so badly to let you see yourself the way he saw you with his own eyes.

the way your eyes would light up at seeing even the smallest or cheapest phone charm to match with him, or the way you would grin at him and his brother's antics whenever there was always some curse or mystery happening around the house of lamentation...

he wanted to protect that peace you brought to him - he needed to.

you noticed him awfully silent as you stalked back over to your shared table, and he only noticed your presence once you slunk back into your seat. no words had to be spoken as a heavy silence lingered in the air. all day, he had stayed uncharacteristically quiet just like now, lost in thought; a sort of epiphany, if you will.

"mammon, i'm here if you want to talk."

"that's the issue," he responded a bit too quickly, his cheek pressed against his palm as he huffed. he rested his elbow on the wooden table and glanced to his right at the wild ivy clinging to the sides of the R.A.D. building, anything to avoid your confused gaze. your never-ending understanding, caring, and compassionate gaze.

"you're always ready to talk," he sighed after a silent interval, furrowing his brows as a shadow downcast over his eyes. he seemed to be rather frustrated with something, his white lashes fluttering (ironically) heavenly over his cheekbones before he closed his eyes. it was only then as you took in his discontented appearance that you noticed a tint of blush highlighting his cheeks ever the slightest.

"...yes? is that not what one does to hold a conversation?" you cheekily responded, shooting him a closed eyed smile. at that, he opened his eyes and finally stared at you directly. the eye contact was fierce, and you wondered what his determination behind that look was.

"i'm serious, y/n. why... why don't ya ever talk about yourself, huh? yer always going on and on about wanting to be there for us, but... ya never... talk about yourself," he tried to explain his concern in the kindest way possible, scratching his nape. it was hard to get the gruffness out of his voice when he was embarrassed to be the one who called you out on it, yet he knew he'd take the job any day seeing as he was your first man, after all.

"oi. what i'm tryna tell ya," he crossed his arms now on the table, yet one of his hands reached out to find its way over to yours. "is that i'll be here for you if ya ever wanna open up... i ain't gonna force ya to, but just know it's an option."

despite his frown and eyebrows knitted together, you could tell he really meant in genuinely and that he wasn't mad at you. oh, he could never be mad at you when you were his sweet little angel.

one step at a time, with every soothing rub he massaged your knuckles with.

but that's what worried him. you weren't meant to be some godsent creature to tame them. and he'd make sure you knew how much you could rely on him as well.

and every kiss he planted those same knuckles with.