#I love how this complicates everyone's relationships

[grimmsbride]

omf umm 🫣 your rex was so good. this is so specific but i feel like our preferences line up p well so im humbly requesting...

douchebag!rex and chubby!reader where rex is constantly teasing her, maybe pinching her side or teasing her for eating sweets or something. but behind the scenes he CANNOT get enough of her, furiously jerks off to the thought of her nightly, gets jealous when other ppl get too close to her.

she gets hit with sex pollen at some point and he gets assigned the job of taking care of her and making sure she doesn't try to fuck everyone she sees. but rex is the one having a hard time keeping it together bc fuck why is she so cute when shes a desperate mess

𝄃𝄀⠀⠀love potions⠀╲ rex sloan ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary * 𓈒 you didn’t particularly like rex-splode, and the feeling seemed to be pretty neutral on his end. but a sudden mix of mystery smoke and being quarantined together, brings the two of you far closer then it should have.

tags * 𓈒 rex is extremely ooc. if you are here for a complete canon copy of him, you are at the wrong place— sorry to disappoint. | reader is a witch | typical sex pollen fic only this is my first time ever writing one 😞 | porn with plot(?) | incorrect biology (? maybe??) | sex with complicated feelings | mentions and examples of negging | rex is a dick & douchebag | reader is depicted as chubby / plus size & is a witch | overstimulation | over-exaggerated depictions of sex | raw sex | multiple positions | multiple orgasms | pet names ( pretty, mama, baby, etc etc ) | again hes ooc. | awkward time skips i’m sorryyy

author’s notes * 𓈒 this fic was supposed to be posted like two days ago but i made it way longer then i should have, and i genuinely don’t love how it came out but i still wanted to give my best in fulfilling your request— ty for requesting by the way 🫶🏾. the smut is towards the end if you don’t want to completely read the plot and as always please excuse any typos. i hope you enjoy this fic.

Had you broken your promise to Cecil? Your bold vow that you would never hex any of your teammates, no matter how much they pissed you off? Rex Sloan simply couldn’t wrap his head around it, brain nearly emitting smoke from how much his gears were turning.

It.. had to be a hex, right? Some spell in a fancy language he couldn’t identify, written right in those dingy pages of that grimoire you held so dear. He wondered how you did it, if you stood over him while he slept— whispering saccharine words and giggles, slipping in and out while he was none the wiser.

Only for Rex to wake with nothing but you, on his mind.

It was comical really, how much the outside body covers. One would think Rex hated your guts. And his mouth surely didn’t help. Releasing random remarks about your clothes clinging to your skin, how you should put down that donut once in a while, even going as far as pinching your sides — which always resulted in a quick slap, but still — if anyone on The Guardians were ever asked what relationship the two of you had it could always be described as borderline hostile.

However, appearances can be deceiving. It wasn’t that Rex hated you, or your body for that matter. Quite the opposite actually. The man couldn’t count on two hands how many times his eyes have trailed to your ass whenever you walked by or how he could nearly tremble whenever your form brushed up against him. You consumed him entirely; smell, face, everything about you was intoxicating to the point he simply could not get you out of his mind.

Working out? Rex was wondering if he would be able to lift you at his current rep. How his fingers would probably sink into your warm flesh as he tugged you closer by the hips, maybe you would even whine about being heavy— only for him to prove you wrong.

In the shower? All that steam surrounding him? Oh, the man could only imagine having you right beside him, suds sliding down your body like the stretch marks etched into your skin; the man would be steady wondering how hot and heavy the two of you could get— melting into the other until you’re basically forced to get out.

In his bed, under those comfortable blankets was the worst of all. During the day Rex was able to ignore his thoughts and focus on being a dick to everyone — mostly you — and being a superhero. But in his bed with nothing to ground him, his mind went wild.

Wild enough that it affected the rest of his body.

Most nights were spent rather sinfully, a hand wrapped tightly around his dick whilst arousal dripped from his angry red tip. Rex’s free hand was always on his face, as if shameful for what he was doing. And technically he was.

He was Rex Sloan, basically resident fuck-boy; meaning, jerking off should be really be at the bottom of the list. But when it came to you, any thought of approaching you for such a thing, for something other than random insults and remarks— the man was suddenly mute.

“Rex. Are you listening?”

The mechanical voice cut through the flood of thoughts swarming the man’s mind, snapping his eyes from the random buildings passing by to the machine currently driving the vehicle that soared through the air. And to the side was you, sitting so prim and perfectly in your dark clothes; hand currently occupied by a mirror to which your free hand plucked and fluffed your hair. In the midst your hand dragged down towards your chubby cheek and lower, fingers resting upon your lips to which you gently smoothed— probably assuring they were free of anything.

Rex couldn’t help but stare, throughly entranced with it all— suddenly feeling very jealous of your finger tips.

Were your lips as soft as they looked? He wondered how you would taste, he could just imagine them wrapped around his di—

“Rex?”

The moment his name was spoken again your eyes suddenly snapped to his through the mirror, causing the man to quickly look away, nearly glaring daggers into the back of Robot’s head.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” He waved it off, forcing a nonchalant facade. “We go to some greenhouse, blow up some freakish plant monster— and then get on with the day.”

Rex then allowed his gaze to tilt back to you, a rather stupid grin suddenly crossing his features.

“But what’s Ms. Sabrina the Witch doing here? You and I could handle this job no problem without the extra weight.”

Your eyebrow twitched, slamming your compact mirror closed as you turned to glare at the man.

“You think you’re so funny.. Maybe I should call Amanda to whoop your ass again.”

“What, you need a little girl to fight your battles?”

“Rex, you aren’t even worth a single spell in my book.. Though,” Your eyes trailed away from the man, suddenly looking deep in thought as your arms crossed over your bosom; “— Maybe I could turn you into a toad.. I’m not sure you would look any different, however.”

Rex couldn’t help but scoff, feeling far too many emotions swarm his stomach the moment he noticed those perfect lips lift into a simper. His own parted, ready to release some fast remark when Robot interrupted;

“From the information gathered by Cecil, there seems to be magical forces at play; explaining the sudden behavior of the plant. Both of you are needed for this mission, and you two are expected to act as a team.”

Those final words were spoken, the tense atmosphere quickly delving into silence. Like teenagers ridiculed the two of you crossed your arms, leaning back into your seats and waiting silently for this damned mission to begin.

Moments passed before the vehicle suddenly stopped, lowering to the ground before a large greenhouse. The windows were frosted, yet large shadows seemed to be pressed against the glass.

With ease you slipped out of the car, tucking your spellbook close and inspecting the outside carefully. What Robot said was right, there seemed to be some type of magical presence; strong enough you felt it from the outside.

You turned, hearing your other teammates exit the vehicle— Robot stepping to stand beside you. His metallic hand rose to the handle of the building, giving the two of you a single glance;

“Are you ready t—“

“Let’s get this over with already!”

. . .

Minutes, possibly even hours passed with the three of you attacking the plant that had taken over the building. With each vine Rex seemed to explode, another grew; dwindling all your progress to zero.

Finally in a sudden turn of events you found the perfect spell, reciting the olden language as a dark spiraled glyph etched into the ground below the plant.

Light sprung from your magic, incinerating the monster from within.

In the midst of this however, a sudden pinkish hue entered the air in the form of smoke, chasing towards you desperately as the plant breathed its final moments. You quickly flung an arm around your face, but it was far too late; feeling the foreign air run up your nose in a painful burn. It trickled down to your throat, clogging so much you began to cough; body shaking from the excursion. You fell to your knees, struggling to catch your breath, as sloppy wet coughs escaped your chest.

“[Name]!”

You didn’t know whether it was Rex or Robot speaking, deciding to focus on your breathing instead. Your eyes shut close, sucking in harshly to hopefully fill your lungs with fresh air and not whatever that mysterious smoke was. It took a couple of tries but you eventually succeeded, feeling your rushing heart relax the moment you could breathe again.

You slowly lifted from your hunched position, noting the way Robot stood close to you whilst Rex stood off to the side, gaze settled upon you with an unreadable expression.

“What the hell was that, Robot?! Did it just piss on her?”

“You’re..” You huffed softly, slowly rising to your feet, tucking your book close to your body. “— so immature.”

“I’m asking a serious question!”

You shook your head, switching your gaze over to the still machine, waiting for some type of answer. You secretly prayed Rex was wrong, knowing you would probably gag if it truly was magical monster plant pee.

“It wasn’t urine, Rex; the plant released a pheromone as a response to [Name] killing it. “ Rex explained slowly, stepping a tad bit closer to you, clearly scanning your form. “It’s current effects are unknown to me, however you seemed to have inhaled most of it and absorbed it through your skin.”

“What?” You hissed in concern, eyes falling to your body as if searching for some type of answer. You even went as far as swiping your skin, truly desperate to get whatever the hell it was off you.

“That won’t work.”

“Yeah, no shit Robot—“ Rex stepped in, eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he glanced down at you before switching his gaze back to his other teammate. “What are you gonna do?”

All was silent for a moment as Robot thought it over, possibly doing millions of calculations for an answer. You stood quietly, attempting to swallow your fear. This so called pheromone couldn’t be that bad.. right? Maybe it was like a skunk thing?

Okay, that did sound pretty bad.

Robot stole you from your thoughts the moment he spoke again, your eyes flicking to him and noticing his own head switched towards Rex.

“For now, while I assess the effects the two of you will be quarantined together.”

“What?”

“There’s no way in he—“

“You could possibly infect the others through contact and given Rex was nearby during the event, there’s a possibility the pheromones hit him as well.” Robot cut through your childish remarks with ease, watching your mouths clamp shut in response.

“This is only temporary. I will figure out an answer soon. For now, please work with me.”

. . .

You wanted to work with Robot, or more like needed to. So you were pretty silent on the ride back to headquarters albeit the little groans of irritation that escaped you each time you shifted, suddenly feeling every bit of fabric clinging to your skin.

It was a blur making it to the quarantine area— or rather your bedroom. You didn’t love having your biggest enemy in your safe haven, but you would have to make do.

“Feel any different?”

“You asked that three minutes ago, Rex.” You murmured softly, eyes closed as you laid amongst your soft blankets. You had taken a shower the moment you got back, something Robot recommended and something you definitely needed. Removing your clothes to relish under the hot water was pure bliss, you would have stayed under there for hours if you could. After which you dried and dressed in a simple shirt and shorts, baggy to combat the sudden suffocating sensation surrounding you.

You turned from lying on your back to your side, allowing your eyes to open and focus on the man across the room. He was seated on your vanity chair, dressed in a simple white tank and his super-suit pants. The man’s hair was done up in a messy bun, a few strands framing his face. You began to stare longer than you should have, only realizing the moment his eyebrow twitched up, clearly questioning your sudden interest on his face.

You breathed softly, “I don’t feel any different.. just, hot.”

“Hot?”

You gave a little nod, rolling onto your stomach as your face smushed into the blankets and pillows below you. “Hot.” You repeated softly, eyes closing for a moment. Hot, was an understatement. While your shower helped cool you down in the moment, it felt as if your temperature was slowly rising and rising— with no end in sight. It explained why you suddenly felt so suffocated; the fabric you wore clinging to your body as you began to sweat.

Along with this, you felt dizzy as if developing the worst super powered vertigo known to man. The only remedy was shutting your eyes tightly, even going as far as shoving your face into your bed to help.

“Really.. hot.” You murmured more to yourself rather than the man, but he heard regardless.

Rex couldn’t help the tinge of worry invading his body as he looked at you. He could hear the way you basically panted, as well as see your body rise and fall with every breath. He sucked in his own, rising to his feet and crossing the bedroom quickly.

“You’re not gonna be able to breathe like that, c’mon—“ he leaned upon your bed with a single hand whilst the other went for your arm, gently pushing you, however hissing the moment his palm made contact with your skin.

“Fuck, you’re boiling [Name].” Rex murmured, eyes casing down your front the moment you rested on your back. He immediately noticed the sweat presented on your skin, shining underneath your overhead light and trickling down your body. With each huff your chest was rising, hands clenching the shirt you wore as if to ground you.

“I’m.. starting to feel weird.” Your voice came out in a croak, as like it burned to speak; eyes blinking open to stare up at the man before you, which proved difficult given how you could barely focus.

Rex sucked in a breath, his hand gliding from your arm to instead maneuver towards your forehead. From the heat radiating against his palm it was clear you had a fever, terrible enough that it seemed to incapacitate you completely. Such a thought caused the man to worry, something he didn’t typically like doing but he couldn’t help it at this point.

“Are you in pain anywhere?”

You slowly shook your head, causing the man’s hand to glide lower, coming into contact with your cheek. The moment it did, you shivered, eyes shutting close and seemingly leaning into his touch. It felt cooling compared to the rest of your body, a funny thought given his entire power was exploding shit.

Still, it seemed like the remedy to your situation, causing you to basically sink into his touch; a sigh gliding through your nostrils.

This took Rex by surprise, eyes widening slowly at the display. You, the woman he was oh so sure hated him, was leaning into his touch? It truly must be winter in hell for such a thing to happen.

“[Name]..?” He called on hushed breath, throughly confused by the situation. You didn’t respond, at first; seemingly content with your cheek in his hand. But the moment Rex moved your eyes were flying open, reaching over to lock your fingers around his wrist.

“Don’t.. move. Please don’t move.”

You murmured softly, borderline whimpering as you turned to place the full weight of your head into his palm. Your fingers dragged down his wrist to his arm, coaxing him to stay just where you wanted— needed him to be. Your entire body was overheating at this point, your clothes feeling far too restricting as if you were ready to burst out the seams. You released a shuddering breath, shifting once more and allowing your lips to graze his skin, nose pressed up against his wrist in turn.

The moment his smell hit you, you were murmuring a soft swear; nails dragging against his skin as desperation began to fill your entirety.

Rex couldn’t do a thing but sit there and gape, attempting to stay composed despite what was unfolding before him. His fingers twitched as they glided close to you hair, feeling something else twitch as your lips traced his skin— fuck, what were you doing? The man wanted nothing more than to ask just that, tearing his hand away in the process.

But he couldn’t, not with the way those pretty eyes were fluttering at him, clearly so desperate for his touch. Rex’s tongue slipped out to glide across his bottom lip nervously, nearly convulsing as he watched your gaze fall to the simple action.

Everything was growing so hot around the two of you, as if the pheromones had seeped out completely and covered every inch of your room. Silence carried before your lips parted to speak a sweet,

“Rex..”

It took a moment for the man to reply with how his name tasted on your tongue. You had abandoned that usual hint of annoyance and frustration crafted specifically for him, instead choosing something so soft, and downright irresistible it was causing his mind to go wild.

His teeth dragged across his cheek, finally releasing a simple; “What is it? Do you.. want me to go get Robot?”

You couldn’t have shaken your head any faster, hand even tightening around his arm— as if truly scared his touch would leave. You brought your body closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him; eyes carrying down his form as soft huffs pushed through pouted lips.

“No..— please, please stay. I need you to stay, Rex.” A drawn out beg escaped you quickly, Rex sucking in air at your words. Stay? He had no choice but to. The two of you were quarantined after all.

But something told him that wasn’t what you were only entailing. Something, like how your gaze simply couldn’t focus on a single spot; trailing from his face down to his legs— lingering there for a moment before returning back to his features.

“Then wha—“

“I need,” You begun slowly, struggling to find the words as hurried breaths escaped. The feeling running through you was completely foreign, sensations, senses, all of it; cranked up completely to one hundred. Fear of the unknown pooled deep in your stomach, followed by something else entirely the longer you looked at the man before you.

Finally you seemed to find what you wanted, fingers dragging against his skin once more, it pricking with each touch.

“You. I need you, Rex. I need to feel you..”

You were lying. This was a trick to fuck with him right? There’s no way you, wanted him in that way. It was all some ploy to admit something he didn’t want to, right? It had to be..

Rex wanted to open his mouth to refuse you, brain screaming at him to push you away. Push her, push her, push her— it thundered in his head as if the only plausible answer to the situation.

But the moment a single please escaped those pretty lips, the only thought in Rex’s head was;

Fuck this.

The hand upon you gripped your cheek with purpose, the man leaning to snatch your lips in a heated kiss. The moment the two of you connected, a soft whine escaped right into his mouth— your free hand latching onto his body quickly. Your lips moved in such a perfect rhythm, igniting your already hot body to basically boil over. You couldn’t help how desperate your lips were getting, whimpering and whining; practically begging for more out of the man.

The two of you parted, Rex watching the way you attempted to chase his lips, eyelids coming to hang low over green eyes that took you in so intently.

“Rex, please..”

“I hear you.” His words broke through the fog slowly clouding your mind, you completely focused on him and only him. The way he breathed, stared, how he ever so slowly lifted himself to hover over your sweltering body; bringing himself to rest on his forearm whilst the other hand continued to hold your face.

“I got you mama, shit..” Rex dragged softly as he pressed another kiss to your lips, leading his own down to your chin, neck, before stamping kisses right against your collarbone. Your taste was a perfect swirl of salty and sweet, curtesy of your sweat and the body wash you had previously used. The man released your face to instead carry his hand downwards, soon reaching the edge of your shirt; breaching the clothing to spread his hand across your stomach.

Rex could nearly groan the moment his fingers clenched, delighted by the way his digits sunk into your plump flesh— hot against his hand and completely perfect despite what he claimed. His eyes took you in searching for something, anything that would tell him to stop— that you didn’t want this at all. But the man only received a pout, and eyes filled to the brim with want.

For him, and only him.

Such a look had him shuddering, leaning close and muttering a quick so desperate for me right upon your lips— such words causing you to keen and melt into him completely. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, never wishing to let go as you felt his comforting hand crossing from your warm stomach and up, the cool air gliding across your skin the more exposed it got.

You gasped as Rex’s fingers traced your breast for a moment, simply playing with you before allowing two of them to enclose a hardened nipple; stimulating the peak so perfectly that sparks were emitting between your thighs. You couldn’t help but lift your hips up, finding what you wanted — his thigh — and dragging yourself up and down slowly.

The stimulation caused you to pant into him, sounds overtaken the moment his tongue intruded your mouth; licking into the dark space with such interest. With a twirl of your two wet, appendages you were moaning softly, feeling the combined spit trickle down your chin the longer you kissed.

You were already dizzy before but with his mouth, fingers, and thigh; you could only describe your mind being a spiral with no end in sight.

As he pulled away you panted, grinding against his thigh like some pathetic dog in heat— clearly desperate for friction to ease the ache between your legs.

Rex took you in greedily, rising up to his haunches, continuing to tweak your breast whilst his other hand carried from your bed and to your body, dragging across your covered sex. Your shorts were soaked, basically ruined; arousal seeping through the fabric easily. He watched as you practically withered at his touch, not so secretly rising your hips to his hand once again.

With another drag of his hand you were whining, peeking up at the man;

“Rex.. don’t tease, please don’t tease me.”

You were palpable, shaking, wanting, needing— everything and anything Rex could have ever wanted. The last thing on his mind was teasing you again.

He was practically tearing your pants and panties off, tossing them to some corner you could worry about later. Your thighs parted, exposing the way a glossy, slick coated your aching cunt; clit swollen, begging for attention as your hole fluttered. Rex couldn’t help but drool, dipping his fingers to coat in your essence, watching the way you practically shook from the naked touch.

“Fuck.. you’re soaked.” Rex whispered, dragging a finger along before finding your little button, circling it carefully. He watched the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how your thighs twitched, slowly enclosing his hand— refusing to let him go where you needed him most.

Your eyes glossy, a film of pure lust covering the pretty gaze; such a look had the man basically huffing, feeling all inhibitions leave his body in a single trickle. Rex continued to circle your swollen clit, feeling the way you so desperately rose into his hand, he knew this was the most sensitive part of a woman, but god— the way you withered was otherworldly.

“Rex, Rex, Rex..” You were whining his name so pathetically, fingers tugging at your blankets as your hips swiveled in the direction of his finger. The ache inside of you only seemed to grow, the pressure building up in your stomach and threatening to spill over. You could feel the way globs of arousal basically pooled from within you, trickling down to your taint and surely staining the bedsheets.

“Fuck… why do you look so pretty like this?”

The question was spoke out loud, yet truthfully not for you to answer. Rex racked his brain on why exactly he waited so long to have you like this. He was such a dick, truly and utterly— to you, and to himself.

The man’s eyes flicked from your pretty pussy back to your even prettier features, gliding his fingers lower to prod at your weeping entrance; easily pushing two digits in to which your velvety walls basically sucked in.

He wasted no time in thrusting the appendages in and out, enjoying the way your moans pitched so perfectly; hitting every inch of his brain in the best symphony. He scissored and curled, brushing up against that spongy spot you; yourself, have never been able to reach with your own fingers.

And the moment Rex’s thumb rose, sweeping across your sensitive button; you were truly done for.

Your hand flew down to his wrist, gripping, refusing to let him go as rushed cries quickly turned into sharp bellows of his name the longer he ruined you with his fingers. It shouldn’t feel this damn good at all. Not simply because it was his fingers but also because it was Rex himself.

The idiot that always looked at you with such disdain, always treated you oddly, mocking you— the whole nine yards like some little bully. Yet here he was, staring at you so sweetly while easing that desperate ache that only he could solve. Only him.

You would slap yourself later. When your mind wasn’t so warped. For now, you wanted nothing more than to be ruined and built right back up by the man you claimed to hate.

Your nails scratched at his skin, thighs closing in around his arm as that pressure thundered deep in your stomach— ready to burst at any time. You couldn’t help the way tears pricked at your eyes, spilling over with each of your quick blinks.

In your daze you heard Rex coo, maybe whisper; soon feeling him move towards your side, face hovering close to your own whilst his fingers continued that perfect rhythm inside of you.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this,” Awe clung to his words, heavy lidded eyes dedicating each pleasure stricken feature to memory; refusing to let it go. “So fucking perfect like this.. I’m such a dick, fuck—“ Rex wondered if he was suddenly getting infected, given the way you so easily took over every sense of his. He felt, smelt, saw, and tasted just about every inch of your presence; a concoction that even the best bartender couldn’t even begin to replicate.

“—Mm close! Fuck.. Rex, please..!”

Your walls clung to his fingers, peak rising so quickly only to crash even faster. The tears spilled over, coating your cheeks whilst your arousal coated his fingers, and your bedsheets. You shook from the aftershocks, desperately trying to catch your breath; whining the moment you felt Rex remove his fingers.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but you moved much faster, reaching out to plant your hands onto his shoulders. You rose, pressing your lips to his own whilst pushing at his body; affectively getting him to lay onto his back whilst you crawled over his body.

Rex could nearly cum in his pants the moment you laid out amongst him, his hands immediately falling to your plush thighs, tugging them; eyes rolling back at how soft you felt against his skin. And the moment he realized you were dragging your hips, smearing your messy pussy across his covered bulge; the man pulled back to groan, shuddering breaths escaping his chest.

“Fuck, fuck— wait, don’t you need to, recover— [Name]?”

“Nnn.. no, no..”

He watched as you rose to sit in his lap, hips still bucking, still grinding and rolling like some machine that refused to turn off. You looked like a fucking goddess above him, hair a mess yet framing your features perfectly, eyes glossy, lips shining with your combined saliva; Rex wondered what he did he do to deserve such a display.

“Need more.. fuck I need it Rex, please!” With a particularly long drag of your hips you were shaking, hands pressed against his chest, crumpling the shirt he wore within your palms. It was like your body didn’t care you had finished just a second ago, still completely aching in desperation as if you were completely untouched.

Your sweet whines did something to Rex, the man swearing under his breath, the previous worry he held for you no longer present. Wasting no time, he allowed his hands to fall from your body to instead find the waistband of his pants, resting his feet onto the bed to shimmy his garments down to his thighs.

His length sprung from its confinements, tip flushed with pearly globs of white slipping from its slit. You brushed close, sweltering center dragging across it so perfectly the both of you could only groan.

Rex’s hands found your hips again, squeezing the flesh within his fingers as his own hips rose to buck into you. “C’mon mama, it’s all yours.. don’t tease.” His head tilted, eyes fluttering closed the moment you ground against him once again. His tip bumped against your swollen button, dragging to your fluttering hole; prodding there for a moment before slowly pushing past the ring of muscle.

The man downright shivered, sparks running down his spine the way your wet walls clung to his dick, shaping around it so perfectly he swore you were made just for him. You weren’t any better, nearly falling apart as you enveloped him completely— ass rested on his legs, seated so perfectly. The stretch should have burned, but you only felt pure bliss with every inch pushed into you. Filled to the brim, his dick basically throbbing inside you, veins brushing against your walls; hitting places you didn’t even know existed.

You didn’t wait to adjust, to allow air to even fully expand your lungs before you were lifting yourself until only the tip remained inside— dropping down in one full motion. The moan released you was pure sickeningly sweet honey, clutching the man so desperately as more hurried drops of your hips followed.

Rex clung to your hips for dear life, barely being able to keep himself together. The single thought of don’t come, don’t come, swirled inside his mind; proving more difficult the longer you rode him. His body shook with each heavy pant he released, nails digging into your plush skin as his eyes nearly met his skull.

“Jus… ha— just like that baby, fucking use me—“ His feet suddenly planted firmly upon your bed, meeting each of your ruts with his own thrusts, tip striking your g-spot so perfectly.

Stars invaded your vision, body sweltering, sweat trickling down every single part of your body— but you refused to stop, you couldn’t. You felt as if you could die without this. And they may have been true, with how you were clinging to the man like he was some kind of anchor.

You lowered yourself, quick breaths fanning across his exposed skin; whining the moment you felt his arms wrap tightly around your waist, feeling him drill into you without a care.

“Rex, o—oh god, fuck!” You shoved your face into his neck, sniffling and sobbing as that ache swelled. You weren’t even thinking properly nor making sense, incoherent words that sounded like some jumbled prayer of his name slipping off your tongue far too quickly.

Before you could even breathe the man was suddenly flipping your positions, hands going for your thighs and spreading you open— fucking into you so deeply, you could have sworn he was in your cervix at this point.

“So perfect.. fucking perfect, fuck, fuck..” His words came out in a drawn fashion, eyes glued to your body. He pushed your thighs, watching the way your stomach rolled up in response; Rex swearing he was getting hard all over again. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, ass rippling each time his hips made contact.

Far too quickly you were coming undone, coil snapping without warning leaving you a shaking mess that could only gasp and cry. Your slick escaped, coating his dick; creating a creamy ring around the base as he simply would not, stop, moving. Instead the man lowered, coming closer and sliding your legs to his shoulders.

Through shallow thrusts Rex spoke, “Been so fucking mean to you. You forgive me baby, huh?” All while planting the sweetest kisses against your skin, as if he wasn’t utterly wrecking you.

You could only whine, hands sliding to his back, dragging your nails against him as you shook your head far too fast— making yourself even more delirious then before.

But that wasn’t enough for the man, no, that wasn’t what he wanted, needed.

A hand came between the two of you, easily finding your messy clit and rubbing circles into the bud. You shook, overstimulation biting at your body to the point you were keening.

“Wanna hear you say it, pretty…” Rex spoke in-between sharp thrusts and shaky exhales. “—I was a fucking ass..asshole, and liar; every inch of you is perfect.. shit, you have me obsessed [Name].”

It was clear the man wasn’t thinking straight from how easily the confession swept from his lips, some type of metaphorical weight being lifted off his shoulders the moment it was uttered however. Rex took in the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, and with how you were tossing back and forth between ecstasy he was sure you hadn’t heard a damn thing.

Still, the pace of both his fingers and hips quickened, moving much closer to kiss you, soft cooes of forgive me, being pushed into your mouth.

Your hands trailed to his hair, bun long forgotten as the strands peeked and slid between the gaps of your fingers. Rex swallowed your last bellow, your entire body jerking as you squirted, making a complete mess of him, yourself, and your bed.

He wasn’t too far behind, groaning into you as he drove himself deeper, gripping your skin as he flooded you with his come; adding to the mess the moment it began to trickle out.

Rex’s hips finally stilled, hand even moving away from your pretty cunt yet his lips remained on you, still kissing you so sloppily yet gingerly. Moments passed of this lip locking before he pulled away for air, forehead resting against your own as he greedily sucked it up.

You panted as well, that once unquenchable ache now very dull compared to before. You melted into the bed, sighing heavily as your hands dragged from his hair to his cheeks, collecting them in your palms.

“I forgive you.” You whispered, watching recollection cross his features, causing your lips to curl into a little grin. “But yeah, you’re a dick.”

Rex couldn’t help the little grin pulling his lips, “I know. But hey, I helped you get rid of that monster plant piss— just had to sweat it out.”

You groaned softly, pushing at his body to which the man laughed, refusing to break away.

“You ruin everything.”

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch19

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to their connection… do they find a way to fix it?

warnings: profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity.

chap contents: mentions of drunk driving, jk is hungover, he snaps at like everyone lol, namjoon!! jk is YEARNING. he cries for like 80% of the chap again LOL, he overworks himself at the gym. thats p much it!!

wc: short

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii

a/n: this is way better compared to the MESS of ch17 and 18 i just had to write this to give me some peace of mind lmao. anyways, enjoy loves.

masterlist , < prev | next >

Jungkook wakes up to the worst fucking headache of his life.

For a second, he doesn’t even register where he is. His body feels heavy, sinking into the couch, the same couch where Nari had shoved him last night before slamming the door shut and telling him to fix things. His mouth is dry, his head is pounding, and when he rubs a hand down his face, his fingers graze over dried tear tracks. There’s an ache behind his eyes—too much crying, too much drinking, too much everything.

He blinks up at the ceiling, exhaling shakily. How the fuck is he supposed to fix this?

The bitter taste of whiskey lingers on his tongue, and when he pushes himself upright, his phone catches his eye. It’s lying face down on the coffee table. He debates not looking. Just leaving it there and pretending like it doesn’t exist. But, of course, he does.

He expects messages from you. Something. Anything.

But there’s nothing.

His heart sinks.

There’s just the same spam messages he’s been sending for the past two days—the ones you never answer. He doesn’t even know why he was hoping for anything else. He was stupid to think you’d text him. Stupid to think you’d even care to check in. But some pathetic, desperate part of him still thought… maybe. Even just a fuck you. Even just leave me alone.

But you gave him nothing.

And somehow, that hurts even more.

He drags himself off the couch, stretching his sore limbs as he moves through the apartment, the one he hasn’t really been in for the past day. He barely makes it to his bedroom before he regrets it.

Your scent is still in his sheets.

Your hair tie is still on his nightstand.

Your toothbrush is still sitting there in his bathroom, untouched.

His chest tightens. He swallows, willing himself to breathe, but it’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. He needs to get out. Right now.

So he does.

His apartments-gym is right there, but it isn’t enough. He needs to be somewhere else, anywhere else. So he heads to the studio gym instead. And then—he destroys himself.

Workout after workout, pushing himself until his muscles scream, until sweat drips down his skin, until his body feels like it’s being torn apart. He lifts until his arms shake, runs until his lungs burn, keeps going and going until the physical pain almost—almost—matches the ache inside his chest.

But it doesn’t.

Not even close.

Jungkook pushes past his limit. Past the burn in his muscles, past the shaking in his arms, past the screaming protest of his body telling him to stop. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to feel anything. But even that doesn’t work—because the second he’s done, the second he’s catching his breath, slumped over on a bench, sweat dripping onto the floor beneath him—he opens his phone.

And there’s still nothing.

His jaw clenches, a sharp exhale leaving his lips. His fingers twitch before he can even think. And then he’s spamming you—pathetically, desperately—like nothing has changed, like if he just pretends hard enough, he can make it real again.

Jungkook [1:43 PM]: just finished at the gym. you’d be proud. didn’t pass out even though i thought i would lol.

Jungkook [1:43 PM]: if i message you like everything’s normal, will you play along?

Jungkook [1:44 PM]: actually, never mind. don’t answer that question.

Jungkook [1:44 PM]: i love you.

Jungkook [1:44 PM]: i miss you.

Jungkook [1:45 PM]: please just call me. text me. anything.

Jungkook [1:46 PM]: i’m otw to another meeting now. love you always.

He stares at the messages. His fingers hover over the keyboard, waiting, waiting, waiting.

For what, he doesn’t even know.

The screen stays empty.

He swallows, locks his phone, shoves it in his pocket like that’ll make a difference. And then, without another thought, he gets up, grabs his bag, and walks out the gym doors, pretending—just like he said—like everything’s okay.

By the time Jungkook finally drags himself into the building, he looks like absolute shit. And he knows it.

The harsh fluorescent lights do nothing to help—if anything, they highlight the deep shadows under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the way his clothes sit just a little looser on him after barely eating the past few days.

He barely makes it three steps inside before his manager spots him. There’s a noticeable double take, followed by a sharp inhale.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” his manager blurts out, eyes scanning him like he’s some kind of walking disaster. “What the hell happened to you?”

Jungkook exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Nothing.”

His manager narrows his eyes. “That is not nothing.”

“I just didn’t sleep well,” Jungkook mutters, rolling his shoulders like he can shake off the exhaustion clinging to him.

His manager stares at him for a long, scrutinizing moment before scoffing. “Yeah, no shit.”

Jungkook doesn’t even argue. Just sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, bracing himself for whatever bullshit this day has in store.

He already knows it’s going to be hell.

Jungkook trudges through the building, head low, barely acknowledging anyone who greets him. The place feels suffocating today.

It’s not like he hasn’t walked these halls a million times before, but—fuck.

Today, everything reminds him of you.

The plants by the entrance—tall, leafy, vibrant green. You’d love them. You’d tell him how they make the place feel alive, how you wish the diner had more greenery, how your own apartment is practically a jungle.

Yellow. It’s everywhere. Some in the wallpaper on the walls, the color of the coffee cup in an employee’s hand, the obnoxiously bright sticky notes on a desk. Your favorite color. He can hear your voice so clearly—yellow is the happiest color, Jungkook, don’t you think?

Even the fucking keychains on some staff member’s bag—a lineup of tiny plushies—make his throat tighten.

Your bed is filled with them.

He can’t fucking do this.

His hands shake as he steps into the men’s bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink. His reflection stares back at him, looking as wrecked as he feels. His skin is dull, his eyes are bloodshot.

His breath stutters.

He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his palms against them.

Get it together.

A stall door creaks open behind him. Jungkook stiffens.

Then— “Hey.”

He already knows who it is before he turns. Namjoon.

The one person he doesn’t want to see. Not because he doesn’t trust him—he does. More than almost anyone. But because Taehyung definitely told him everything.

And Jungkook is not ready to hear it.

“Hyung,” he mumbles, trying to keep his composure.

Namjoon studies him carefully. Then, “You okay?”

Jungkook snaps. “No, I’m fucking not.”

His voice cracks.

Namjoon just exhales, unfazed. “Yeah. I figured.”

Jungkook looks away.

There’s a long pause.

And then—Namjoon sighs, walks over, and locks the bathroom door. “What—”

“Sit,” Namjoon says, sliding down against the wall.

Jungkook just stares at him. “What are you—”

“You’re about to explode.” Namjoon pats the floor next to him. “So just do it here before you do it in a meeting.”

Jungkook hesitates. Then—he crumbles. He slides down next to Namjoon, dropping his head back against the cold tile, and talks.

About everything.

The diner. The first time he saw you. How you had no fucking idea who he was.

“The first time I met her, I thought—I don’t know. I just thought she was different. But then she actually treated me like a normal guy, and I—” His voice breaks. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted that.”

Namjoon listens quietly. Jungkook keeps going.

The first date.

The way you told him you only saw him, not Jungkook of BTS.

The fucking field.

The dinner with your parents.

How he sat there, lying by omission, watching you laugh, watching your parents love him, knowing damn well he was going to ruin you. He talks. And talks.

Until finally—he just stops. He can’t say any more. His chest is tight. His throat burns. Namjoon exhales. Then, finally— “I told you to tell her.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes. “I know.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Jungkook swallows.

And then—finally—he admits it. “I was selfish.” His voice is hoarse. “I finally had something that made me feel real, and I didn’t want to accept that it was temporary.”

Namjoon stays quiet when Jungkook exhales, voice shaking. “I should’ve told her. I knew that. But every time I looked at her, I just—” He breaks off. “I couldn’t.”

There’s a long silence. Namjoon sighs.

“Look, Jungkook,” he says. “You fucked up. You know that. I know that. And there’s nothing I can say that will change that.”

Jungkook’s shoulders sink.

“But,” Namjoon continues, “what I see is two people who were obviously in love with each other. So now, the question is—what the hell are you going to do about it?”

Jungkook’s breath stutters.

“I don’t know if I can do anything.”

Namjoon looks at him. “You’re Jungkook. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

A beat of silence.

Then, a knock on the door.

“Jungkook?” His manager’s voice. “You’re running late.” Jungkook shuts his eyes. He clenches his fists.

And then, slowly, he pushes himself up. Fixes his clothes. Rubs his face. Namjoon stands with him, pats his back. Jungkook turns to him.

Then—without thinking—he hugs him.

And for the first time in days, he feels just a little bit lighter.

——

Jungkook steps into the meeting room, head low, expression unreadable. His manager barely looks up from his laptop as he starts rattling off numbers.

“The tour was a success,” he says. “Revenue exceeded projections. The engagement was at an all-time high—”

Jungkook tunes it out. He already knows all of this. The shows, the screaming fans, the flashing lights—none of it feels real anymore. Not after you.

Not after he lost you.

His fingers twitch against his phone, lighting up with missed messages. Not from you.

From his members, his staff, his manager—everyone but the person he needs. “Jungkook?”

He blinks, looking up.

His manager eyes him. “Are you listening?”

He nods automatically.

“Good,” his manager exhales. “Anyway—your schedule is packed for the next few weeks. A few shoots, some pre-recorded content before your enlistment—”

Jungkook barely reacts. His manager glances at him.

“When are you cutting your hair shorter?” he asks. “You know it has to be done before—”

Before the military.

Jungkook clenches his jaw. His heart pounds.

He stares at his phone, at the messages he knows he shouldn’t send. His manager sighs. “Jungkook.”

He finally looks up. “You have three weeks,” his manager says plainly. “Three weeks before everything changes.”

Something inside Jungkook snaps.

“I know.” The words are sharp, bitter. His manager startles. The room goes silent. Jungkook realizes what he’s done. He clenches his fists.

Then—he bows.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I have to go.”

Before anyone can stop him, he turns, and storms out.

Three weeks.

Three weeks to make it right.

Three weeks to win you back.

Today— He’s finally going to fucking do something about it.

Jungkook grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he stares at his phone screen.

No messages. Like always.

His chest tightens. He’s been staring at your name for God knows how long, debating.

And then, he calls. Once.

Then twice.

Then again.

By the fifth call, he doesn’t even know why he’s doing this. It’s not like you’ll answer. But then, the ringing stops.

A click.

And suddenly, he hears your voice. He perks up immediately. Surprised.

“Oh my God, Nari, no—”

Laughter. Faint rustling. You’re talking to her.

Jungkook freezes, his breath caught in his throat.

“Hello?” His voice cracks. “Baby—hello?”

You don’t respond.

Then he hears it—

A shuffle, a muttered “Oh, shit—”

And then, beep.

Silence. The call ends. Jungkook stares at his screen. Call failed.

His heart sinks.

You didn’t pick up because you wanted to.

It was an accident. Jungkook exhales shakily, dropping his head against the seat. “Fuck.”

For the first time in days. He has no idea what to do next.

He’s been here for hours. Didn’t go to back to the meeting. Didn’t eat. Didn’t move. Just sat in his car, parked a few feet away from your building, watching the entrance like a lovesick idiot.

It’s pathetic. He knows it’s pathetic. But what else can he do? You’ve blocked his number. Ignored his texts. Avoided him at work. Nari has been actively making his life hell. And still—he waits.

Just in case. Just in case you glance at his car when you walk by. Just in case you hesitate. Just in case you miss him too.

And then, he sees you.

Walking up the sidewalk, head low, arms crossed. Nari is right beside you, talking, gesturing, but Jungkook knows you’re not really listening. You just look tired.

His stomach twists.

You used to light up whenever you saw him. Now you won’t even look around. Jungkook wills you to. He holds his breath, silently begging for you to look up, to notice him—

But then Nari’s eyes flick toward his car. And she does not hesitate.

She grabs your shoulders, turns you away so quickly that you stumble. Then she storms forward, dragging you into the building without so much as a glance in his direction.

Jungkook exhales, forehead falling against the steering wheel. Still nothing.

Still no reaction.

Still just—nothing.

——

Nari slams the door behind her, throwing her bag onto the couch.

“You’re not looking outside, right?” she demands, kicking off her shoes.

You blink, startled. “Uh. No?”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

You sigh. You know exactly what—or rather, who—she’s talking about. You shrug off your jacket, pretending like it doesn’t matter, like the knowledge that Jungkook has been outside all day hasn’t been sitting like a rock in your chest.

“I don’t care,” you mumble, heading to the kitchen.

Nari scoffs. “Yeah. That’s why you’re stirring your coffee like you wanna murder it.”

You glance down.

The spoon is practically scraping the bottom of the mug. You sigh. Loosen your grip. “I don’t care,” you say again.

“Right.” Nari flops onto the couch. “That’s why you didn’t even argue when I yanked you inside like a fucking bodyguard. So chill about it.”

You roll your eyes, but she’s not wrong. The truth is—

You do care.

You care that he was waiting. You care that he looked tired. You care that he’s been outside for hours and yet he still didn’t come up, didn’t force you to see him.

You care too much.

And that’s exactly why you can’t let yourself think about it.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Nari announces, stretching as she gets up.

You frown. “Are you sure? You—”

She waves a hand. “Bitch, I love you, but I also love my bed.”

You snort.

She squeezes your shoulders. “You better call me if you feel like shit. Or if that dumbass does anything extra dumb.”

You smile. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She grins. Then—dead serious—“Block his number again.”

You groan. “Nari—”

“I’M JUST SAYING.” She presses a dramatic kiss to your forehead, grabs her bag, and heads out.

Jungkook is still there when she steps outside.

Still leaning against his steering wheel.

Still waiting. And when Nari walks past his car, she doesn’t even hesitate.

She flips him off.

Then slams her car door and drives off. Jungkook exhales sharply, rubbing his face with both hands. This is going to be a long fucking night.

——

Jungkook watches the lights in your apartment go off one by one. The living room first, a soft glow swallowed by the night. Then the kitchen, where he imagines you standing at the sink, rinsing out a mug, hands moving on autopilot. The hallway next, until the only thing illuminating the building is the neon flicker of the streetlights below and the soft glow of the bedroom window—the last piece of you still awake.

He waits.

Waits for that final flicker, that last sign that you’ve tucked yourself away from the world. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s a foolish hope that you’ll come running out last minute, breathless, eyes wide with a feeling you can’t suppress. But you don’t. The bedroom light clicks off, and it’s over.

Jungkook sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He should go. He should have gone hours ago, before the cold set into his bones and the weight of regret made his chest feel like it was caving in. But he had just… waited. Sat there in his car like an idiot, watching your window like it would give him an answer.

But it doesn’t.

So finally, with one last glance up, he starts his car and drives away.

——

His apartment is dark when he steps inside, the air cold and undisturbed, like a place that’s been waiting too long for something to return. The door clicks shut behind him, echoing through the quiet. He exhales sharply and rubs a hand down his face, kicking off his shoes with a little too much force.

It’s too quiet.

The kind of quiet that lets thoughts creep in before you can stop them, filling the space with regrets, should-haves, and a thousand versions of what could have gone differently.

Jungkook groans, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it holds some divine answer. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, voice hoarse. “Think.”

There has to be something he can do.

His phone screen glows as he lifts it, thumb hesitating over the search bar.

How to get your girlfriend back.

He stares at it for a second before he quickly backspaces the whole thing, ears burning. Cheeks blushing at the word: Girlfriend.

Not my girlfriend.

He tries again.

How to win back someone who hates you.

He glares at the words. How to fix a mistake when you really, really fucked up.

That seems more fitting. He presses enter.

A flood of results appear, as if the internet itself is sighing at him like a disappointed parent. Apologize sincerely. Give her space. Prove you’ve changed.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jungkook mutters, scrolling past the obvious.

Somewhere between Plan a grand romantic gesture! and Write a heartfelt letter, he stops. A different suggestion catches his eye.

Start small. Remind them of what you once were.

Jungkook blinks. Small. Simple.

Flowers.

His lips press together in thought, thumb hovering over the screen. Then, before he can think better of it, he’s searching again.

What flowers say “I’m sorry”?

The first answer makes him scoff. White tulips. Too on the nose. The second option—lilies—feels too funeral-ish, and the third… sunflowers? He huffs a laugh. Too bright.

Roses are too romantic. Orchids too dramatic.

He settles on something softer.

Daisies. Yellow ones.

They’re simple. Uncomplicated. They remind him of you—bright, warm, something that could grow even in the cracks of a sidewalk. And they say, “I’m thinking of you.”

Yeah. That’s enough for now.

Jungkook lets his phone drop onto his chest, staring at the ceiling again. His body feels heavy, but for the first time tonight, there’s a tiny flicker of warmth beneath the guilt.

It’s not enough to fix things. Not yet.

But tomorrow—tomorrow, he starts.

And with that thought, he finally lets sleep take him.

[alicia-18]

Second Choice — Eminem x Reader

Summary; Y/N was used to being a second choice to everyone, so it didn’t surprise her at all when Marshall broke off their situationship in order to give things a try with Kim again. But she was surprised by the emotions that came with it.

Warnings; this fic will include mentions of domestic violence (not between Em and Y/N), drug and alcohol abuse, adult content, swearing, idiots in love, and moments where you hate both Eminem and yourself :)

Chapter One; Keeping things normal

You hadn’t expected to see Marshall that day. He hadn’t been at the studio for an entire month since he went back in Detroit, starting from the day he officially ended things with you. It wasn’t like you guys were anything serious anyways, you hadn’t ever even been in a relationship with Eminem. Sure, once you started sleeping with him, you stopped entertaining anyone else, but that was just because you were far too busy with your album to have more than one guy on the go. And yes, after a couple months of your entanglement, Marshall had even stopped seeking out other females. But neither of you told the other that. That would have made things far too complicated considering you both were signed to Aftermath Entertainment and Dre had warned you multiple times about mixing work with pleasure. But you both had waved him off, claiming that wouldn’t be an issue as neither of you were really that invested in the other.

Boy, do you wish you’d listened to him now. Because almost tipping your coffee over him would have been mildly less mortifying if you hadn’t began sleeping with him. Both Proof and Dre didn’t bother hiding their chortles as you both collided — you were on your way out whilst Em was on his way in. You had managed to get the coffee over just your shirt and the floor, missing Marshall’s white top completely.

“Fuck that shit is hot!” You cursed, and immediately peeled your shirt off to get the hot liquid that was seeping through it and burning your chest off of you. This left you standing in just your low rise jeans and black laced bra for the three men to see. Oblivious as usual, you didn’t see the various looks the men gave you as you squatted down and mopped up the little puddle of coffee from the floor.

“Jesus Christ woman.” Em cursed, before peeling off his shirt off and thrusting it towards you as you stood. You furrowed your brows at him, baffled by the act.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, not taking the fabric. He frowned before placing it directly in your hands and taking a step away before you could give it back.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Tryna give everyone a free show and shit.” His words shot an unexpected wave of confusion through you. Why the hell should he care if you were giving out free shows or not? Who was he to say what you could or couldn’t do?

“Grow up, it’s just Proof and Dre.” You scoffed with a lighthearted chuckle, chucking his shirt back at him and putting your coffee cup down. You walked over to the sink and began running the stain under water.

“It seems like keeping things normal is going well, Slim.” Proof joked, earning a stern stare from his childhood friend. Not that he cared, he never was one to mince his words or conceal his opinion.

“Why wouldn’t things be normal?” You asked, turning back around and crossing your arms. Both Dre and Proof stared at you like you were being thick, whilst Marshall’s jaw seemed to be set. Neither men looked lower than your face, but that didn’t stop him feeling wildly uncomfortable at you being in your underwear for them and anyone else who walked in to see.

“‘Cause yall have been getting all kinds of freaky for months and now ya ain’t.” Dre said like it was completely obvious. Which it was, of course. But your defence mechanism had always been to act as if nothing ever affected you. It was how you managed to be stood infront of them both shirtless.

“Dre man—“ Eminem began, but you were quick to cut him off. You wouldn’t have the narrative be you were being left behind like some abandoned puppy. You were a strong woman, you didn’t need a man to feel secure in life. You didn’t want to appear like you needed anyone’s pity.

“Oh please, it was only a few months. I ain’t no obsessed little girl.” You rolled your eyes, laughing as if their insinuations were completely unbelievable. “For real though, I don’t want you guys making it awkward. Em and I had our chat, we’re all good. I just don’t want you assholes making things seem deeper than it was. ‘Specially if Kim starts showing her face round here.” You chuckled at the end, though mentioning Kim seemed to be a mistake as Marshall straightened up. Both the other men momentarily flicked their eyes to him, preparing for the explosive response most people received when mentioning his wife.

Instead, he threw his top back to you, which you instinctively caught, and chuckled slightly. “What she said, man. Ain’t nothing deep.” He shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “But as your friend, Y/N, that bra is too small for you. We’ve all been able to see the top of your nips the whole time so unless you want the whole studio seeing, just wear my shirt.” He smirked as he spoke, the expression only widening as you gasped and rushed to pull the top over your head. It was far too big on you, but atleast you weren’t fully exposing yourself now.

“Well, thank you for that, buddy.” You emphasised buddy, which made Dre and Proof stifle laughs, and left the room with your coffee.

“You ain’t slick man.” Proof cackled with a shake of his head. Marshall shrugged, leaning back in his chair and lifting his feet up to the table.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” He denied.

“Em you know we couldn’t see shit, you just didn’t want her walking around in a lacy bra.” Dre pointed out, though Marshall just leant back further in his chair with his eyes closed and arms behind his head.

“Shut up, man.”

[Part 2 is up now]

[annovaz]

"CAUGHT IN YOUR GRAVITY"

pairing: sunghoon x Jake's cousin/Gym crush!reader

word count: 1,4k (for the time it took to write this you would think i wrote at least a 100)

genre: smut, fluff, angst, neighbors-to-lovers, best friend's cousin, little bit of everything lowkey

Summary: Sunghoon has a little gym crush on the girl who always catches his eye—only to find out she’s Jake’s cousin. When summer heat and lingering gazes turn into something more, things get complicated…

Warnings: language, sexual tension, jealousy, heated arguments, smut, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft confession, slight angst, possessive!Sunghoon, jealous!Sunghoon, (dw hes sweet tho) confident!reader, sunbathing and ogling, frat party setting, Heeseung being a player, minor alcohol consumption, all characters are of age.

a/n : guys its my first time writing and i feel like this is kind of bad so if it is pls tell me so i can delete it lol, i dont think writing is my thing. anyways i rlly hope u guys enjoy it tho bc i worked hard on this,

love u all (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Sunghoon didn’t do crushes, or relationships for that matter.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself every damn day.

He was disciplined, focused on his studies ( you'd be surprised to see his friend group), and spent two hours in the gym every evening. He never skipped leg day and never let distractions ruin his arrangement—until she walked in.

Tight gym shorts. Fitted top. Confidence dripped in every step she took.

And the worst part? She didn’t even glance his way.

Sunghoon wasn’t the only one who noticed her either. The entire gym seemed to pause whenever she walked by, men sneaking glances, some too obvious for his liking. She was the kind of girl everyone wanted to look at, but no one dared to approach. Too untouchable. Too out of reach.

But that didn’t stop Sunghoon from looking.

It started with curiosity—the way she moved with ease like she belonged there. Like she actually knew what she was doing. He saw the way she pushed herself, the sweat dripping down her back, the way she bit her lip when she concentrated. And then it became an obsession.

He adjusted his own routine to match hers, subtly timing his sets to steal glimpses in between. Sometimes she caught him. Smirked. Kept going, unbothered.

Fucking hell.

So imagine his shock when he walks into Jake’s house with his parents on his side for the family dinner and finds her sitting at the table, smiling like she owned the place.

“Sunghoon, meet my little cousin, Y/N,” Jake announces proudly. “She just moved back from Cuba, so treat her well.”

Sunghoon nearly chokes on his drink.

Jake’s cousin?

The girl he’d been lowkey (highkey) ogling for weeks?

No fucking way.

She turns to him, lips curled into an amused smirk, and says, “You’re staring.”

Jake laughs, slapping Sunghoon’s back. “Dude, what’s up with you?”

Sunghoon clears his throat, forcing his eyes away. “Nothing. Just—uh. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh?” Her eyes glint with something unreadable. “You look familiar.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her smirk widens. “Maybe from the gym?”

Shit. Busted.

Jake’s mom beams. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Sunghoon practically lives at the gym. Maybe he can show you around.”

Y/N tilts her head. “I think I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Fuck, she was cocky. Sunghoon felt something tighten in his chest.

Dinner is a blur. Family chatter, laughter, and praise are thrown at the kids. Jake’s parents gushing about how he and Sunghoon grew up to be such handsome young men. Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s focus is elsewhere—on Y/N, her amused glances, the way she sips her wine with a smirk, completely aware of the effect she has on him.

She’s a natural at charming the family, effortlessly slipping into conversations, making even the older relatives laugh. He can’t help but admire the way she carries herself—so sure, so unbothered. So fucking beautiful.

And every now and then, their eyes meet across the table. Lingering. Silent.

Summer is hotter than usual.

Or maybe it’s just because Y/N lives right next door.

Sunghoon finds himself outside more often, mowing the lawn shirtless, lifting weights in the yard, knowing full well she’s sunbathing just a few feet away. Her tiny bikini leaves nothing to the imagination. He tries not to look, but he fails miserably.

What he doesn’t know is that she’s watching, too.

They exchange subtle glances, but never words. The tension simmers between them, neither acknowledging it nor acting on it. But it lingers—silent, electric, undeniable.

One evening, she catches him hunched over a car, shirtless. “You work too much,” she teases, leaning against the fence separating their yards.

Sunghoon wipes the sweat off his brow. “And you tan half-naked too much.”

She laughs. “Jealous?”

He smirks. “Just saying, you’ll burn one day.”

“Guess I’ll need someone to rub sunscreen on me.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t respond.

She tilts her head with a cheeky grin. “No volunteers?”

Fuck. She was dangerous.

Jake throws a frat party.

Sunghoon should’ve known it would be trouble.

The music is loud, the house is packed. He’s talking to Jay and Jungwon when he notices him. Heeseung. Leaning a little too close to Y/N, whispering something in her ear. She laughs.

Sunghoon sees red.

Storming over, he grabs her wrist, pulling her aside. “What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N yanks her arm free, narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Heeseung? Seriously? You know what he’s like.”

She crosses her arms. “And why do you care?”

“Because I—” He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

��You’re not my boyfriend, Sunghoon.”

That stings more than it should. He clenches his jaw, staring at her. Then, in a split second, he’s kissing her. Hard. Desperate. Possessive.

She kisses him back just as fiercely. Hands roaming. Clothes shifting. He picks her up and sets her on the counter.

"fuck," he looks down at her figure on the counter, raking his eyes down her body. "you're perfect"

Y/N grabs his face and pulls him in roughly for a kiss. Sunghoon's hands travel down her body and rip her tight shirt off. Y/N lets out a small gasp, watching as he grabs at her chest, leaving marks all over her neck and torso. His kisses slowly move down her stomach to the waistband of her miniskirt. He looks up to ask her for permission, but Y/N's already grabbing at both her skirt and panties.

"Please, Sunghoon, I need you so badly," she said between little gasps. Sunghoon leaves soothing kisses on her inner thighs. "Shh baby, let me take care of you"

He finally faced her bare cunt, his breath hitting her core. "You smell so sweet," he said before placing a kiss on her pussy, causing Y/N to let out a moan.

"God, Park that feels so good." she moans, throwing her head back as his tongue focuses on flicking her clit. Her hands move down to Sunghoon's scalp, pulling on his hair, causing him to let out a little moan into her pussy.

"I can't get enough of your pussy, I could stay down here forever" He mumbles in her cunt while inserting two fingers in her hole.

The continuous kitten licks and the pumps in and out of her pussy drive Y/N over the edge. She feels the knot forming in her stomach tighten as she arches her back into Sunghoon's mouth, letting out a lewd moan and riding out her high.

"Sunghoon, I need you inside me, right now." Y/N orders as she pulls him up for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. " As you wish, my princess," He says unbuckling his belt.

When his cock finally springs free, Y/N finds herself admiring the length and girth, grabbing it and jerking slowly. Sunghoon groans but lets her set the pace. When she glances up at him, eyes full of mischief, he decides he's had enough and turns her over on her stomach.

"God you drive me crazy," He whispers in her ear, leaving small kisses below her ear. "Tell me how much you want my cock baby," he said while teasing her hole.

"So much, please Sunghoon, please fuck me now." she sobs out in desperation, pushing her hips back to get an ounce of friction. His grip tightens, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts, his hips jerking forward roughly, both letting out wrecked moans in relief. His cock is sucked in her warm cunt as it kisses her cervix. She matches his rhythm and meets his hips, his cock going impossibly deep.

Sunghoons grip on her tightens like he's trying to ground himself through the pleasure, moaning her name like a mantra.

"Shit - fuck, I'm gonna-" Y/N's voice breaks as she nears that high again, body shuddering, moving her head to kiss Sunghoon. "c'mon baby, cum with me, let go." reaching a hand down to circle her clit, he keeps eye contact as they unravel together.

After, as they catch their breath, he presses his forehead against hers. “You’ve had my attention since the moment you stepped into that gym, I've been yours since then,” he murmurs. “Not just because of how beautiful you are. But because you’re kind. Fierce. Stubborn as hell.” He chuckles. “You drive me insane, Y/N.”

She smiles, fingers tracing his jaw. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, will you be mine as I am yours?” he asks, gazing into her eyes with a hopeful look.

"of course, I will dumbass, I would've been yours from the start if only you had said the word." She smiles at him cheekily, fingers brushing through his hair.

"Now that I've got my answer" he lifts her up, smirking, “let’s bring this to the bedroom.”

She laughs, kissing him again. “Lead the way, Park.”

Thank you for reading ♡

[buddiesbuddiess]

“I don’t have to want to sleep with everyone I have feelings for” is such a delicious line to me because…how many of Buck’s romantic relationships have made it pretty clear to him that a huge part of the reason they’re with him is because of sex + his physical appearance? A lot of them.

In his breakup speech to Buck one of the main compliments Tommy gave him was that he’s “hot as hell.” His relationship with Taylor began initially because she just wanted casual sex from him. Hell, even Abby, if we’re gonna go there, tracked down his phone number literally in large part because she thought he was really hot.

Buck still has a lot to unpack when it comes to sex and love. He avoided sleeping with Abby for ages because he “liked her too much to have sex with her.” I think a large reason for that is because Buck is used to feeling like people only want sex from him, even when he craves a deeper connection.

Eddie, though? Eddie is in an entirely different category in Buck’s head. Eddie is Special. There’s everyone else, and there’s Eddie. Eddie has always loved Buck for who he is, has always looked past every single thing about Buck and seen his true soul. I think a part of Buck can’t even contemplate the idea of having sex with Eddie because Eddie is Too Important for that. He cannot risk losing him. He cannot risk losing what they have by endangering it with complicated feelings.

[seleneprince]

I love the new lore you add to lucia . You say that in this ,she gets at least 3 romantic interest . Is Jason one of them? And what the relationship between them in this new au? I remember that in the old one ,Lucia really hate him because of his eyes? Is it still the same? And what qjason think about Lucia before and after the accident (i'm really curious of what may be this accident btw!)

Thank youuu!! And about that, I should clarify because I think I explained myself a bit badly in the posts

I remind again that "Lucia" is just a placeholder name, like, if any of you have ever played otome games or something like that, you've seen that the main character always has a default name unless you change it to add yours, or whichever. Here is the same. She's the Neglected! Daughter officially, and her name can be either Lucia or whatever you have in your head. It's just easier for me like this because I don't really self-insert in stories, I always read them imagining another character in my place, but moving on.

In the new au there are three Darlings: Wife! Darling, Neglected! Daughter and Female! Twin, who's actually Lucia's younger half-sister. They have the same mom, but different dads. There's also Marco, the Male! Twin, but he's only a Platonic Darling...for now. The whole batfam will become platonic yanderes for the four of them eventually, but there are a few whose "yandereism" runs deeper than platonic depending of the Darling. Like, Bruce is definitely more than platonic with his wife, but they have a complicated story and it'll get a while before he reaches that stage, but yeah. There's nothing platonic on how he views her. The neglected daughters, tho, i'll leave it you to guess..but what I meant by three romantic interests was this. That there are now three Darlings instead of just the Neglected Daughter mc, and therefore, there will be more than one romantic yandere at least.

I admit Jason was an option in my head at the beginning for the romantic yanderes, but currently, i have other plans for him. He'll still be a yandere though, just not romantic. Unless I change my mind. But his role will be very relevant when it comes to the Darlings.

Now on Jason's opinion about his "sister" (i don't know if they're stepsiblings, adopted siblings or pseudo siblings so meh), let's say it was awkward. She arrived with her mom and younger siblings at Wayne manor a year after his death, because their mother caught Bruce in a vulnerable state during that time and managed to strike a deal with him, surprise surprise. She heard of Bruce Wayne's dead ward, but since she never met him, neither had a strong opinion on the boy...until he came back. He saw Lucia from afar while he was spying the manor, already having heard of Bruce's mysteriously rushed marriage and his newly discovered daughter. He observed them, but since she wasn't the one carrying the Robin mantle nor heavily involved with Batman's bussiness anyway, he didn't pay her much mind. In fact, it was the mother who caught his attention first. The way she handled her children, the adoration in her eyes and how gentle she was with them...something squeezed his heart at the sight. Something he didn't dare to name. He definitely spent more times that he should've stalking watching them from the shadows.

When he somewhat "reconciled" with the family and started showing up at the manor, he was briefly introduced to the Wife and her kids. Of course he already knew them, but they didn't. She was polite but distant with him (i mean c'mon he was declared dead by everyone and now he's back with a reputation stained in blood, she was wary to say the least). Lucia didn't know what to make of him, she was confused. She was told he died brutally, only having seen photos Alfred showed her of his time as Robin, and now he's back looking like an entirely different person, apparently resurrected. She's shocked. She's curious. And a bit intimidated, but seeing her mom regard him without fear, she does the same. Since she's already experienced her fair share of Batfam's neglect and straight up coldness, she's not really expecting to bond with Jason. She's given up on trying.

Jason is...complicated. He's still adapting to his new life. He struggles with emotions. He's constantly torn between hating and loving Bruce. He misses his family. He resents them. He wants to be back with them. He can't stand being in the manor sometimes.

He's too busy dealing with his demons and connecting with the team again to notice the new civilian members of the household. While he's the only person besides Alfred that doesn't outright resent Wife! Darling (in fact he has mad respect for her for what she did, for not being afraid of him, and everytime he looks at her he can only see the loving mother he used to watch from afar), he doesn't go out of his way to bond with her or the kids. Even thought there are times when he catches Lucia reading alone in the library, holding the same books he likes, that he feels the urge to reach out to her and ask her what she thinks of it. When he sees her working out at the gym when no one else is there, he wants to go and give her pointers. There are times when he catches her by herself, instead of laughing with her small family, and she looks so lonely and lost that, for a brief second, he relates. He sees himself, alone and discarded, left to pick herself up over the crushing feeling of being abandoned, unloved....and then he sees her mom finding her and the girl's face inmediately lights up, running to her mother, and suddenly the picture in his head is broken.

She's not him. Not really. She actually has people on her back loving her and supporting her. She's not alone. Not like he was.

And he hates her a bit for it. For being innocent, for not having had to bleed and suffer to be seen, for enjoying a life of luxury without death or constant violence, for having a mother that clearly loves her and still having the guts to look lonely sometimes. Like she doesn't have anything, while she already has more than he was allowed to.

It's childish, he knows, and completely unreasonable, but he can't help bump her a bit too hard when he passes by her at hallways, purposedly acting as if she's invisible. Shoving her a bit too strongly out of the way. Teasing her too much, and not in a friendly way. Later, he feels like shit for it and tells himself he's being a pathetic child, but really, has he ever stopped being one? No, has he ever been allowed to be one?

In his eyes, she and her family are the only normal ones in the manor, untouched and untainted by the violence and darkness that runs in this family, in this city. At least, that's what they look like..So like his relationship with his family, he's conflicted. On one hand, he wants to bond, to reach out to her and maybe be part of their bubble. She's just a kid, and she seems tough enough for them to get along. Then the pettiness and jealousy comes back, and he's being rude again. He's a mess.

Lucia, obviously, doesn't read minds, so she can't understand why the fuck he goes from being kinda an asshole with her to stare her awkwardly from afar, standing like a statue. She doesn't like him, and prefers to stay far from him because she doesn't know which mood he'll be in. Although, if you asked her, she'll still choose to be in a room with him over Damian or Dick. She dislikes Jason, but she hates those two.

After the unfamous "accident" I still haven't dwelled on, well. I won't reveal much because it would make this post too long, but let's just say Wife! Darling is kinda the opposite of Bruce in terms of morality, and which side of the law she plays in, and her children follow her footsteps, all behind batfam's backs. Since she arrived as Bruce's wife, she never shared a bed with him. They've been living in the other wing of the manor, the one opposite to the where the Batfam sleeps, in which it used to be the staff's rooms. Now it's just Alfred. For years, they've been leading separate lives from the Batfam and barely crossing paths unless it was for the sporadic dinners where they were all present and the spaces they all share (living room, the main hall, the gardens), having only Alfred as fellow roommate. Until Lucia has an accident, one that sends her straight to the hospital, and it involves a bomb. Of course, it makes it to the news, and everyone knows Bruce Wayne's stranged daughter has been hospitalised with important injuries as collateral damage from a bomb.

Thing is, she wasn't supposed to be there. Her presence near the bomb is directly related to her mom's not-so-legal affairs, but obviously, they can't tell anyone that, so they make a whole show that Neglected! Daughter ran away from home after an argument with Wife! and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But the Batfam are detectives for a reason, and they all smell something off here, specially Bruce. Suddenly, they're hit with the realisation that they've been, for all intents and purposes, sharing a roof with complete strangers for years. They know nothing of these people, never bothered to because "they were just civilians", nothing to do with their mission. Only regular civilians don't usually find themselves that close to a hidden bomb and still live to tell the tale. And the story isn't adding up. The argument, the runaway stunt, the timing, it all feels wrong. Like they're missing something huge and obvious, but can't put their finger what.

And so Bruce decides to pull an infurating move to solve this, very typical of him, by the way: He arranges for the whole family to be moved from their wing into the same as the Batfam, so they can secretly keep an eye on them and figure out what are these "civilians" hiding. By forcing them to stay in their sights and share space with them, the Batfam expects them to break and accidentally expose whatever they're hiding.

After the accident, Jason looks at Lucia differently. He's seen her in the hospital bed (when no one else was there ofc), bandaged and unconscious. Then he sees her at the manor, still recovering but to his surprise, she doesn't seem at all bothered or shaken by what happened, more like...annoyed. And now they all been forced to move and become roommates with the batfam, and Jason witness for the first time those perfect civilians' masks crack. He doesn't comment it with the others, but he has seen Lucia's eyes spark with fury when their backs are turned, because of her new living arrangements. She nods at Dick but scowls silently the second his back is turned. She navigates this new change with the cold, silent frustration of someone who just had her plans for the evening ruined...and he's curious. But also feels...down. Because now he notices he's missed crucial hints in front of him the whole time. Because the way she handles her near-death experience like it's just another Tuesday isn't normal. Because while they play their parts, the four of them are obviously tense and on defensive mood, as if the Batfam are enemies they have to be on constant alert with.

And he realises something dark has been going with these family the whole time, something dangerous, and none of them knew. They didn't even suspect it.

[mrchill]

Your work is amazing, i love your vertical analog series. I have some questions.

How do you get the models to be so comfortable and how long normally a session takes?

The photos are taken in their homes?

Any Photo that you are particularly proud of?

How do you feel looking back at your first works?

Nude photography is a niche that get easily misunderstood, how do you feel about the relation of pornography and your work?

Thank you for your work!

Thank you for your kind anonymous message (and questions !). The more I practice analog photography, the more I love this expensive inimitable medium.

How do you get the models to be so comfortable and how long normally a session takes?

To pose can be intimidating for some people, as meeting new people can be for me. Since I started photography I've always made a habit to meet the people who wants to work with me before the session. In a nice café, to introduce ourselves and add a little background. I think it's important (and natural) to take some time to get to know each other a little, talk about our respective motivations, throw ideas and share what we have in mind for the session ahead. It may sounds easy to say but here is the truth : don't be a dick. Be true (to yourself and to others), be transparent, be mindful and respectful with people sharing their personal & inspiring time with you. Suggest, never impose. From a benevolent and sincere attitude might unfold an ideal creative environment packed with spontaneous moments, where the mood feels more authentic. More natural. With a proper soul you know. My sessions usually last several hours. The whole afternoon is ideal. I'm not in a rush, while following the sun I take my time and let things naturally fall into place. For me, it's another key element for relaxed atmospheres where models may feel confortable.

The photos are taken in their homes?

It depends. Many of my photos over the last five years have been taken in my place. But when it's feasible, I would prefer to work in people's place. This, allows me to work in a different light and scenery. It also brings a different and proper vibe, where the person is in control of her personal space and might feel more confortable with posing.

Any photo that you are particularly proud of?

The photos between the photos will always be my personal favorites. Otherwise there are many. Like the shots I consider as a timestamp of my personal learning progression. Those where I discovered a certain way to compose and frame the scene, specific details etc. While staying consistent with the way I notice things and the way to properly highlight them. It always has been complicated for me to explain this clearly. Despite the fact that I'm very critical & picky with my own works, I'm proud of it. I know it can be perceived as arrogance, but in my opinion, creative self-confidence can be quite rare. It's important to be satisfied of what you did/do. So if you are, be proud of it. It's the best feeling. It also might be a part of what keeps you doing the things you like love, right ? And for all of that *excessive hand gestures* I will be forever grateful to the inspiring folks I had the opportunity to meet and who make this *excessive hand gestures* possible.

How do you feel looking back at your first works?

I do feel great and have particular affection for my first clumsily satured works. I see what I corrected, what I don't do anymore, what I developed, what directions I have taken since, how my "left eye" and my compositions have become more precise too, etc.

Nude photography is a niche that get easily misunderstood, how do you feel about the relation of pornography and your work?

Everyone has their own sensibility, their own relationship with the body and places their own cursor where they feel it. According to my personal approach of intimate photography and my perception of the human figure, I simply don't consider my work linked to pornographic material. Nudity (and by extension intimacy) doesn't necessary imply pornography. It is indeed commonly misunderstood due to its surprinsingly complex and very large scope. Each person's subjectivity also comes into play. Without ignoring the way our society for ages has been treating female body image. By objectifying it. By demonizing it. By selling it. Another surely passionating but kinda depressing subject. There is still a long way to go.

Voilà ! I hope my answers will be clear enough for everyone. I apologize in advance for any typos or syntactic errors. Thanks again for these interesting questions. It feels great to share thoughts about photography and stuff.

Photography is the best thing in life. Take care.

[ahollowgrave]

OK SO THE THING IS -- (Its DT spoilers all the way down folks.)

I've talked about Odette and Sphene and The Endless and Living Memory and the Use of Souls before so I'll try not to repeat myself too much. (<- Lying.)

But when we first meet Endless Sphene, Odette is SO curious. She clocks that woman isn't Alive (TM) right away and it's always a little !! when you meet someone who might be like you. You know? That first bit, Odette is so intrigued and welcoming and naive. She's never been the head of a country before, you know? And yeah maybe there is alarm bells, so to speak, at the back of her mind but those are so easy to ignore when you are Lonely in a Very Particular Way.

This doesn't last long !! Honestly, the second regulators and their (their main I suppose) purpose are introduced a wall goes up. Gone are all those warm and curious feelings and whats left is a growing dread.

This is where Odette and Wuk bet heads for the first time. Any other plot and Odette would agree, they should just!! Keep being nice. It's just their way of life, etc etc etc. But this is wrong. This is perverted, this is corrupted, this is aberrant, this is harmful. It needs to be stop.

And it just gets worse from there.

A lot of Prudence covering for Odette. Holding her back like a trembling, neurotic chihuahua from savaging any ankle she can reach. When they defeat Endless Sphene she is simply!!! Sad!!! It's a sad all around!!!

And then.... she's....... back and not dead and actually even more off-putting. And people don't seem toooooo remember??? that she??? died??? Like for real??? We had a whole funeral, Odette had to hold everyone's hand through the funeral rites!!!

AND THEN....... 7.2....

MAN. She's alive, she's been asleep 400 years and the world moved on without -- except it didn't. It had a... version of her. A version she cannot possibly live up too. And 400 years is so long. Idk idk. She's not a living-dead girl but she's close, you know? So again, that sense of "oh you're like me (again)" but it's all a bit tainted now, you know?

They share a feeling of "I am out of step with the world around me and yet I must do my best to keep up."

At first Odette cannot help but stare, she is having a lot of emotions at once, she looks like she's gonna vomit all the time. (Partly because S9 just does that to her but also because... Sphene.) And MAN imagine being Sphene, you've got so much going on an also this weird nun won't stop staring at you. Sphene thinks Odette hates her for a while but eventually...

The coffee scene. I know some people thought it was silly and maybe it was, but that first moment where Odette and Sphene are sitting alone just talking. :pacha: That's when shit settles for them, that's when Odette becomes Sphene's comfort. Where Sphene realizes "Oh, she doesn't hate me..."

Idk idk idk! Odette is slow to build of romantic feelings but at the very least she feels for Sphene. She understands some of the uncomfortableness of Sphene's position, and maybe she can't understand the weight of a crown but she knows the burden of Duty. She is an empathic creature -- how could Death not be? -- she wants Sphene to know she isn't alone, that Odette will help in anyway she can.

ough. anyway... this is very much a ramble but man...

But Pigeon, I hear you cry, what about Odette and Prudence!?

omg first of all thank you for you question!!! This isn't about them.

(But also they are never actually like A Couple they are a very complicated strangers to coworkers to lovers to ????. Prudence tends to be in a lot of off again/on again relationships! Odette is one of the more painful ones, for sure.)

As much as Prudence loves/is obsessed with Odette, she's not a very... good at expressing herself. She's not good at relationships, she's not good at a lot of things. She is insanely jealous of Sphene and Odette - be it endless sphene or evil sphene or living sphene. She wants to be the one on Odette's mind she wants to be the one making Odette look like that. Alas !! She'll be ok.

genuinely abuzz with ideas about sphene and odette but also gotta............ wait a bit.......... see what happens...... you know?

[centaurianthropology]

My thoughts on C3E77

So apparently this one was controversial?

I'm going to say right now, I really loved everyone's decisions. They all fit the characters, but more they fit the players. I know that there are claims that Tal ignored all the warnings, but I actually think Matt may have misjudged the situation going in.

Ashley made it clear on 4SD that she did not want the shard. I think she's not really feeling the Dark Fearne storyline (and that's fair), and Matt seems to have missed that she genuinely didn't want to go down that route. Maybe he thought she was playing coy? Maybe they've been playing together so long he thought he knew a story she'd enjoy and missed her signals that she wasn't into it. I've done that before with some of my long-term players.

However that went down, Tal and she had a conversation after 4SD about what they wanted to do, and it was clear going into the episode that they at least had it planned out who was taking that shard, and it was going to be Ashton from the off. The fact that Matt was not expecting that somewhat surprises me. As Taliesin said: he put a big red backstory-shaped button in front of Ashton, and Ashton is terrified of losing people. If Fearne didn't want the shard, Ashton was going to dive on that grenade head-first. And part of Ashton wanted it. They are told they can't do something, and they will go about proving that old tree and everyone else wrong in the most self-destructive way possible. They are intensely punk in that way.

Matt may have designed the shard for Fearne, but this is not the first time that an item meant for one player ends up with another. Deathwalker's Ward was made for Percy, but through the events in the Sunken Tomb, it ended up with Vax and led to a hell of a story. And now something meant for Fearne goes to Ashton, and I have a feeling we're now in for another hell of a story. Because Ashton is now, essentially, a lava genasi, with three impossible things crammed into their broken body. Will they survive the campaign? I have no idea, but it has become clear that they don't expect to.

And honestly? This may well be what the Hells need, not in terms of power, but in terms of really realizing how self-destructive they all are. Marisha may say that no one loves a martyr, but Laudna was very much ready to play that role earlier this episode. Imogen is very self-destructive. So is Orym. So is FCG. The only two who have shown any degree of self-preservation are Fearne and Chet. The rest are bombs waiting for the most poetic moment to go off.

And today one of them did for a moment. They finally saw the end result that their self-destructive tendencies get them: Ashton blown into a thousand pieces, scattered across the top of the ziggurat. Deanna's ring saved him. Fearne's Aura of Life and FCG's Aura of Vitality saved him. Ashton could only roll and take damage.

Matt may have not designed it this way, but this was absolutely Ashton's 'where do you get your strength from' moment of the campaign, but in a very different way than Grog or Yasha experienced them. Because Ashton might just need this realization slapped into them by all their friends: this was dumb and they would have died because they didn't trust their friends. Because their strength and their salvation truly came from the people that love them.

Ashton has been, up until this point, a bit gung-ho to die for his friends. Honestly, they all are, and it's about time he and all the others learned how to live for their friends.

Anyway, hell of an episode, and a brutal but thrilling last hour. I was grinning right along with Sam. The mad fucker pulled it off by the skin of his teeth and by the grace of two friends dumping every bit of healing they had into him.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Mist and Alpha late night talk be upon ye. Their relationship is very important to me.

It's quiet on the roof. Getting there isn't easy, but once settled, Mist relishes in the sense of peace that washes over her. Tonight, though, she only gets two lungfulls of smoke before a voice cuts through the relative silence of the night.

"Got one for me ?"

How Alpha always manages to find her hidding spots is beyond Mist's knowledge.

"Die," she grumbles without looking at him, even as she extends the pack of cigarettes toward the fire ghoul.

The fact alone that he lights it without flourish tells Mist Alpha is preoccupied. That and the tension sitting heavy in his broad shoulders.

"You good ?" he rasps after a long inhale, voice always a bit veiled, scratching in his throat.

Mist shrugs vaguely, eyes finding a star and latching onto it. There's a long silence, an unusual display of patience from Alpha, before she sighs in defeat.

"Worried about Omega."

A gush of winds raises goosebumps on her skin. She should have brought a jacket. It becomes a bit more bearable when Alpha reajusts his stance and the heat he naturally radiates washes over her.

"Yeah, me too."

Smoke billows in front of them as it escapes their mouths, curling in hypnotizing shapes.

"...don't get me wrong, I love Terzo, I think he's a great guy, but..."

"He's human," Alpha finishes for her, "mortal. And Omega is not. I mean not really. No one's eternal, but us ghouls come close."

With a heavy sigh, Mist nods, lower lip bitten raw and stinging.

"Omega always had a big, bleeding heart. If- when he loses Terzo to human fragility, he's going to feel it with his entire being."

Alpha grunts in agreement. There is no way Omega won't fall appart at the loss of his lover, no matter the circumstances.

"Can't get too close to humans. Will just bring pain."

Mist huffs.

"Hypocrite."

"Fuck you, Secondo and I are just a thing of convenience, nothing more."

What a poor liar Alpha can be, when it comes to these matters, a tremor in his voice and longing in his eyes. Mist raises an eyebrow, tilting her head toward him.

"I didn't even mention him."

Shoulders sagging in defeat, Alpha runs a tired hand on his face, through his hair. Mist wonders if he still struggles to sleep, or if he stays up late just to catch a break, have a quiet moment to himself. If so, her presence doesn't seem to bother him; after all, he sought her out in the first place.

"You still having nightmares ?"

Mist tenses.

"Fuck d'you think i'd be doing here if I wasn't ?"

Alpha doesn't answer. Mist bites her lip, inhales, exhales, shaking off the guilt churning in her guts. It's instinctive, biting when she feels cornered, when a touchy subject is on the table. And if it was anyone else, she probably would storm off. But this is Alpha. The fire ghoul knows, and understands.

"Sorry. I meant, yes, I still have them."

Somewhere in the night, an animal screeches. A cloud momentarily hides the moon. Nightmares are terrible things, forcing Mist to face her deepest fears without being able to do anything about it. She doesn't remember when it started, but now she can hardly spend a night without having her own mind playing those cruel tricks on her.

Some nights, when Mist wakes up with the taste of bile in her mouth and torn sheets sticking to her clamy skin, she forgets where she is. All that she feels is how small and lonely she is.

"You don't have to sleep alone, y'know."

It's as if Alpha read her mind. A tempting offer. Mist considers, stomping on the butt of her cigarette.

"You'd hold me, sparkling ?"

The light tone she tried to inject in her voice falls flat, as does the nickname Alpha hates so much. As it is, he only hums and finally turns fully toward her.

"You know I will. If you let me."

The cloud drifts away, silver moonlight pouring once again on Alpha's face, highlighting the deep scars on his cheek, the days old stubles, the crease between his eyebrows.

"Alright then."

They stare at each other in silence for a while. There is something off with Alpha's expression, like he's trying very hard to school it into his usual bitch resting face. Mist is not sure how to word the question she's burning to ask.

"Do you- did something happen ? You look...upset."

The way Alpha opens his mouth in an instant, ready to retort, lips starting to pull back in a snear, reminds Mist of herself just a few minutes ago. But then he looks away, shoulders and chest rising with the inhale he takes.

"Got into a fight with Pebble."

"Again ?"

Mist isn't sure what Alpha and Pebble's relationship is. Most Siblings and a few other ghouls are convinced they hate each other's guts - and given the amount of screaming matchs they get into, it's a fair assumptions. But Mist knows damn well it goes further than that.

She knows they both respect each other, despite everything. She knows Pebble tends to seek Alpha's gruff approval, even if the earth ghoul would vehemently deny it and possibly comit murder if anyone mentionned it. Mist has keen eyes, and she can see that Alpha orbits toward Pebble much more than you'd expect. That he looks out of the earth ghoul and genuinely seems to care about him, in his own way. Their fights tend to get to both of them, no matter how much they try to shrug them off.

"...yeah. It's fine, we'll get over it, I just...wasn't even trying to piss him off, you know ?"

Yes, Mist does know. Whatever bound those two share, it's torny and full of knots, a difficult thing that's still strong enough never to let them severe it. She hopes the squeeze she gives to his shoulder is enugh to convey her understanding, all the reassurances she doesn't really know how to put into words.

It seems to be, if the way Alpha leans into it with the faintest hint of a purr is anything to go by.

Her musing is interrupted by a jaw-dislocating yawn.

"C'me on. It's so late it's almost early," Alpha mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

They don't speak of the fire ghoul's offer again, but when Alpha steps into his bedroom, Mist is right behind him.

Maybe, tonight, warm limbs will ward off the horrors of the night.

[legallydistinctloolooland]

hearing any defense of the huskerdust age gap (as if it needs one) that doesn't start and end with “Angel is, by every metric under the sun, an adult who can make his own decisions” is fucking insane to me. You do not need to pull out a timeline. No math required. He is in his thirties. Fuck, I am younger than him by a considerable amount, and if I could be bothered to get out of my pyjamas and go cruise at the local septuagenarian biker bar, all things made equal, I would be fucking fine. Me and this hypothetical grandpa trick would be equally consenting adults.

It is just a bit frustrating to see this line of argument in EITHER direction, from people who think that a ~thirty years old cannot possibly want GILF pussy or that think you need to corkboard mathletes a way around the age gap by saying “well actually they're around the same age if you [blah blah blah]”. There are things that are actually fucked up about them that we COULD be talking about instead of putting Seattle on blast with this “how could a seventy year old man ethically start a relationship with another fully grown adult, both of whom are trying to make meaningful connections in their lives, beyond their work?”

Please keep in mind, none of this is that serious. This is, at the end of the day, a very silly discourse, and this is, at the end of the day, a very silly reaction. I wish the septuagenarian biker bar thing was serious, but alas. I live in a boring area.

[katierosefun]

modern family is all fun and games until you get to the scenes where you burst into tears because the once-vaguely homophobic dad now refers to his son's husband as family, and also the academically gifted daughter realizes that her dorky, clumsy dad was always really proud of her and just never surprised because he just assumed she could do anything, and also the eldest daughter who eloped comes crawling back to her parents' room and whispers that she still wants her parents to be present for her wedding, and also the anxious queer lawyer character admits that he was terrified that his husband would just leave him alone with their baby daughter, and also that the once-vaguely grouchy dad looks at his stepson and tells him that what makes a family is who sticks around, not who you're blood-related to and anyways what was i saying

[saturnniidae]

Trans!Hiccup later in life becoming more confident in himself and coming to terms with the fact knowing how to and doing things traditionally viewed as 'feminine' doesn't make him any less of a man my beloved.

He canonically knows how to sew. Like his attempted cover was he was 'making outfits' so why not? He definitely made his own armor, he probably makes his own clothes when he has the time. He said he wanted to he a 'bread making viking' (and yes i know it was a hasty lie but hear me out) so I'd like to think he knows at least how to bake and probably how to cook as well. And he enjoys these things and indulged in them when he's able to.

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[vaguely-concerned]

sophia seeing cailan's body hanging there when they go back to ostagar, and suddenly all she can see even through the rot and the ruin is just how much he looked like alistair...... :'(

a mental image that totally will not haunt her through alistair's many years on the throne as rebellions and assassination attemps come and go. doesn't send her unhinged and unwise even a little