#I love it and at the same time it frustrates me

[xxxstraightfromtheheartxxx]

Read my tags first, ran out of space.

Note: I change my mind a few times throughout this text post, what I began with is not entirely what I ended with. And I’m not even sure of the ‘conclusion’ I got to. However I’m too tired to try and figure the rest out about it right now. Might change this post later when I have made up my mind or got more questions about it. Heads up! Spelling- and other mistakes in writing, were made. Frequently.

I know my tags make me a hypocrite and that’s one of the judgemental thought processes I’ve been fighting/growing against most for a while now.

I expect people to think similarly to me about this and that’s not within my right, they don’t owe me anything for the choice I decided to make and put the hard work in for. That I’ve suffered for it and for the patience I’ve had to bring up towards others being judgemental and having prejudices they didn’t fight within themselves. The frustration I keep feeling every time I have to explain to other adults how to respect accept and see minorities or marginalised groups as equal in worth to themselves. It’s so tiring, and I’m just white, I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and have these conversations to protect yourself and your family and friends and loved ones over and over again whilst still experiencing racist comments assumptions treatment behaviour bullying exclusion exploitation… through systemic racism, racist communities,through so many facets of their lives.

I feel like I’ve been shouting for equality. Not sure if that’s the best most respectful word for it in english, in my language literally translated our word means ‘equally worthy”. And to me that means that from birth we should all be treated with the same amount of respect love and acceptance. It’s only society, nurture that causes this inequality to exist, that not only allows but encourages prejudices and othering for power. Shouting at people who seemingly just refuse to open their eyes, minds and hearts and keep humanity from growing into healthier behavioural patterns in the future. They refuses to put in more effort to try our best to avoid wars, make the idea of hurting another person out of anything other than self defence, be heavily rejected, punished. Instead of not saving each other out of fear for economic and political threats to our own habitants and countries. To be unified so firmly by the absolute belief that violence is wrong, that those fears wouldn’t even be an issue because we’re all know all the other countries will still have our backs and we’d be able to function without the country that’s trying to start or continue a war, while only having to put in mild effort to be entirely independent from the threatening county, as humanity instead of as “individual countries”. It would cut the county/group at war of their resources entirely, which would endanger them to much to be able to actually be able to hold out being at war and making an actual big difference in the big picture of our common humanity. I know there are many weapons that could destroy so many at the same time, yet they would be poisoning the ground they so gladly wish to live on. (Ofcourse this is an ideal that is almost utopian).

This is the goal I thought we were all collectively working towards throughout our entire lives. To eventually be able to all come together in the far away future. All of the warmhearted people in the world.

And therefore we have to start within our small circle of influence and be open to try and learn to understand and respect each other with our differences and similarities, To expect people to be good and ourselves to put effort in it.

However completely swerved away from my original point. But it is the root of that frustration, hurt, disappointment and envy I experience when I see or hear or feel negative judgement .

People have been calling me stern and too strict and rigid in thought more in the last 4 years. It’s because I’ve been responding to prejudices and discriminatory behaviour and ideas verbally, and I have to admit about 50% of the time quite hard, not disrespectful, but clear. I’ve been setting boundaries over what way there can be spoken about others and myself with me. This week I even threatened to leave the room and wouldn’t continue conversing with them if they didn’t then stop casually using the n-word, while knowing it is wrong and hurtful and what my opinion and feeling was towards it. They called my stern and frowned and sighed but at least could bring it up not to say it with me around anymore. I know I haven’t changed their behaviour without my presence this way and it saddens me to feel them rejecting that part of myself that’s at the core of me. My moral core believe of equality.

When people won’t widen their view for one minority it makes me feel unsafe as part of multiple other minorities. I’m a queer womxn with persistent mental health issues, who isn’t able to work because of it and I’m neurodivergent and have some invisible fysical issues (I have loads of allergies which used to give me big rashes of eczema in my envoys and knees and later hands and feet, it has improved a lot, the amount of allergies keeps expanding though) ( I have a very small amount of energy compared to most people my age because of having to put in too much effort as a child and teen) to take care of others and secretly fighting feelings of depression). I’m lucky to be middle-class, white and have affordable healthcare here. All of these other aspects have made life harder for me throughout my entire life. Yet others have mostly blamed me and pestered me, excluded and avoided me for my inabilities and difference, including the inability to l love men.

It feels unfair that I try so hard to be accepting, understand and respectful of others, and not get the same amount of effort and care back… which is hypocrite of me, because the people I want to make the biggest changes never asked me to do all that. And while their lives are often so much easier specifically on the those societal aspects, does that make them owe me that effort back?

I feel like yes, they should, because they have more space for it, for questioning their prejudices than us. Because of the privileges of the main beliefs in their society, they didn’t have to lift a finger for throughout their entire lives. For all of the freedom and respect they’ve just got thrown in their laps, that took up so much of our lives for us to assemble a resemblance to their quality of life.

(Many people who have to fight for their lives daily, do not have that time or space so they only get to grow slower and are part of minority or marginalised groups as well. Bc evidently their is a lot of prejudice within those groups towards the other groups who are also being pressed down.)

I don’t know if I still think it’s hypocrite of me to expect people to put effort in being good. I don’t think so. The length they are able to go through to make those improvements however, I should bare in mind stronger again, like I used to.

If I give up on following my moral compass on this, I’ll never be the person I hope to be one day. I do feel like I deserve to give myself a break and be forgiving about those negative thoughts because they come from a desire for righteousness and good. Recognise, reject, correct, forgive and trust that I’ll do better next time because it is what I truly want to in the long run. I show myself to not always respond and to better pick my battles, so I can persevere and rebuild my energy for when I can make a bigger impact In the braided context or my own. However when I notice bad behaviour or judgement towards others, I do use little parts of it to give them a correcting look or to speak up for someone else or recently even for myself.

Totally did not see this rant coming!!

I knew this theme has been more at the front of my mind again recently and that I’ve been prickly about it, yet I hasn’t reflected on its origin as deeply as I did just now. So here, little amount of people this will reach, have some personal information from my brain and my heart.

.

I’ve been typing this for so long and my attention span has loosened throughout writing. I don’t supposes I’ve managed to make everything clear, I got more and more tired and created some weird sentence structures and maybe grammar and def phrasing to try to get my point through or at least comprehended.

Don’t come at me about the war part, I know it is unrealistic to achieve anything like that in our lifetimes.

Yet I’m holding onto this dream for dear life. Otherwise what is there? To grow towards, to live for? It all comes to recognising, appreciating, sharing and maintaining the good there is now and nurturing the good to come.

The way you change your immediate reactions to things is that you catch yourself having an uncharitable/bigoted/overly judgmental thought and you catch it and replace it and then you do that a hundred times a day for your whole life and eventually one day like five years later you realize that you think differently now and you’ll always be working on something but that’s how life goes and that’s fine.

[zyafics]

ANGRY GOD | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — S2!Rafe Cameron x (F)Reader

Summary — Rafe always struggled with being the only person in his head. When he meets you on the balcony of Tannyhill, everything changes. As sweet and kind as you appear to be, you turn out to be a reflection of Rafe and his dark thoughts. A burnt soul. A perfect companion. But as much as he wants you, as much as you deserve each other, something stands in the way: your relationship with JJ.

Content — angst, suggestive themes, cheating (not on each other), minor blood kink, rafe does coke, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic dynamic, obsessive and psychopathic behavior, and subtle dubcon.

Word Count — 3.9K

lıllılı Deja Vu and She's Mine Pt. 1 by J Cole

Dedication — to @cybersunnie who read it first and gave me lovely feedback, ily my southeast asian bestie <3

Rafe looks for you everywhere.

Ever since that fateful night, he had searched every room and crowd for a glimpse of your face. Most times, he doesn't find what he's looking for, and a lump of frustration curls up his throat. A wasted effort, he tells himself, to look for someone who isn't his, but he does it anyway.

He's never been good at letting go of things that belonged to him.

Tonight's bonfire is on the beach. The firepit is surrounded by keggers lined neatly along the edges, and the salty tang of driftwood smoke hangs in the air. Flickering embers roared to the sky, while the drunken crowd moved in scattered clusters, their laughter coalescing with the music as they stumble over their steps. Rafe can't help but scoff at the very sight.

He had snorted a couple of lines before his arrival. Nothing calms him down quicker than strips of white powder that substitute for dopamine, but it still isn't quite the replacement he's looking for. It may make him feel lighter, unable to feel the depth of his soul sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the ocean floor, but it's ineffective. Riffled with the knowledge that there's something better for him out in the world, something that mirrors the use of a drug, something that can save him.

You.

Rafe sips on the beer he's been nursing for the past half-hour—coke and liquor are a hangover's bitch—and his eyes survey the mass of people in futile efforts. Everyone has arrived, including those Pogue friends of yours, but there are still no traces of you. Once again, Rafe believes that you've decided to forgo the invite to forget him.

Until he finds you off in the distance.

In the corner of the world, sitting on the shore and counting waves, with your legs drawn to your chest and your arms draped across your knees. Parties have always been a troublesome endeavor for you, rekindling old memories you want nothing more than to forget, but you always find yourself succumbing to one. It's a nasty habit you're unable to break.

You had slipped away—from the masses, from your friends, from JJ—for some peace on the edge of the earth. No one seems to have noticed your missing presence. At least, that's what you believe.

Something settles at your side, darkening your solace with its thick presence, and you turn to discover Rafe. He sinks into the empty space beside you, cold brew in hand, and refuses to meet your gaze. Your heartbeat skips, alarm bells activating and cautioning you to leave, but you choose to stay.

Silence engulfs the air and despite the heavy bass reverberating through the air and the flurries of chatters from Kooks and Pogues alike, none of that seems to matter. As always, with Rafe, it feels like you two are the only people remaining on Earth, spinning on its axis, waiting.

It isn't like this with anyone else.

"You've been ignoring me," Rafe announces flatly. His stare set to the horizon of the coastline, watching waves flatten into the salt-soaked sand inches away from his feet.

"I haven't," you defend, a little too quickly, wincing at the projection of your voice. "We just haven't been going to the same places."

He scoffs dryly, "Because you've been ignoring me."

You shake your head softly, but Rafe doesn't acknowledge the gesture. You doubt he cares. It mirrors you in that aspect, knowing exactly how his mind behaves—believing his version of events to be the only correct reality. Nothing you do, or say, will change it.

It's hard to talk to someone who's stubborn.

It's worse when the person knows you too well.

Because in some ways, he's right. Several invitations to various functions have been sent, but you've opted out of attending any of them. Partly because you don't want to be in that environment. Mostly because you're afraid of facing Rafe. You had assumed it'd be an easy facade to maintain—just as the rest of your friends suspected you simply weren't into parties—but Rafe sees directly through you, like glass.

He resists the urge to look at you. Fearing if he does, he'll never stop. It isn't enough for him to be within your proximity, he wants to have you, and it's a debilitating feeling to know he can't. Blood coats his senses, and he realizes he bite his tongue too hard.

Yet, he feels the heat of your stare on his profile. Your eyes sweep over every feature, every twitch of muscle as if you're committing to memory the days you haven't seen him. Pride finds him in that regard—to know he consumes your thoughts as much as you consumed him.

He begs to be wanted.

He wants you to beg for him.

"Your bruises are healing nicely," you say softly, admiring the faded damning colors of his assault to the healing yellows that smother his skin. "That's good."

His resolve breaks and Rafe turns. The corner of his lips lifts. "You would care, wouldn't you?"

You blink in surprise, but Rafe takes it as some protest of resilience. You won't admit it, as much as you want him, as much as you need him, and the anguish seeps into his bones. unable to detangle itself from skin. "Of course I do," you stutter a reply, "I patched you up."

"But it isn't the only reason," he presses, "Is it?"

His eyes meet yours, and it rivals the first look he's ever given you. Full of scorn and disdain, Rafe had once wanted nothing more than you to be out of his sight. Now, he can't have enough of it.

It evokes honesty in you. "It isn't."

Rafe grins, taking any small victory as a celebration.

You can't take it, deciding to break contact to reach into the pockets of your shorts. You fish out the lighter and a small box of cigarettes before torching the end of the stick and inhaling a sharp breath. Nicotine slithers into your system, calming your raging nerves.

Rafe watches with amusement. He had always hated a woman who smokes. It was unorthodox, dirty, and not someone he sees himself with. But when he watches the way the puff of smoke exits your lips, the calamity smoothening your features, he's never wanted to kiss you more.

“You smoke?” Rafe asks as you lower the cigarette to your side. The butt of the blunt brushes against the grains of sand.

“Yeah.” You say timidly. “It’s a bad habit I can’t break.”

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Didn't take you as a smoker," Rafe confesses, but something in his statement reeks of judgment. As much as you hate the need to be validated by others, something about Rafe leaves you desiring acceptance.

You scramble to form an excuse. “I only do it when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

You don't respond, but you're sure the split-second expression on your face revealed it all. Pressing your lips together, you rip your gaze from Rafe to look back to the ocean currents, raging and coursing through the tides as if a storm is brewing. You hoped this respite would dissolve the tension in the air, but it doesn't.

Thick and hot, you can't decide if it's the heat of the firepit against your backside or the idea of Rafe's close—too close—proximity to you. Your truth. The persona you've carefully crafted on the verge of collapsing.

Rafe finally understands why you don't go to parties. Even if you don't explicitly state it; it's him. The way he can read you, understand you, and make you feel. A parallel of himself in you that feels like a reflection against a pond. It scares you. It terrifies him. Yet he can't get enough of it.

You clear your throat, taking another puff of your cigarette, before returning your gaze back to him. "You left your own party again."

Is this what you want to talk about? Rafe would rather push past the small talk, but he entertains it nonetheless. At least it's something to keep you close. "It's not my party."

"Right." You hum, inhaling a nicotine-saturated breath that hisses and chars the end of the blunt. "But you left it all the same. Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

"I could ask the same about you."

"I asked you first."

"Is that how you want to play it?"

Rafe cocks his head in challenge, armed with the mockery and condescension of his dripping tone. But it's not aimed at you, but rather for you. A provocation that asks: one of us is lying here, who will it be?

"You're baiting me," you announce, digging the burnt end of the cigarette into the sand to extinguish it. "It's not going to work."

Rather than take offense from your blatant callout, he scoffs out a smirk. His perfect teeth glistened underneath the moonlight, which can almost be read as fangs.

"Smart girl too," he muses, more to himself than you, before taking a swing of his beer. Directing his line of vision towards the darkened horizon, you watch him swallow with a bob of his Adam's apple. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" You repeat. "Why would you be looking for me?"

"Don't act dumb, princess. It's not cute."

Silence stretches among you, and the only soothing sound of this moment is the cascades of water meeting sand. Your heart doubles its tempo, reconciling with Rafe's words before he pierces the quietude with another confession. "They don't care."

This time, you don't play dumb. You know exactly what he's referring to. Rafe made a bold accusation that his friends don't care about him, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is right.

From what you heard from your own group, no one is friends with Rafe. Not really. All they want is to get out of his way, to avoid being the receiving end of his wrath. Rapport is the closest method towards that settlement. A falsehood for security. He had come to the bitter realization on his own; that no one is real with him except you.

You don't take the time to be frivolous and reassure him with meaningless consolation. You cut straight to the chase.

"Then why come?" You ask, not knowing if he'll respond. But what you don't know is Rafe would answer almost anything if it came from you. "Why attend something when none of these people care about you?"

The instantaneous reply is a howling wind from the ocean, breezing over your skin and raising goosebumps on your arms. But you remain still. Unsure if Rafe will answer, you wait until he admits, "It's better than being alone."

All the air leaves your lungs.

Your heart pumps like it's about to burst.

Because Rafe confirms what you’re thinking.

And you feel the same way.

You're certain you're in an exact predicament but you don't have the courage to voice it. The Pogues only tolerate you because you're in this relationship with JJ, but you have a sinking feeling that it's just the novelty. Something short and fleeting. Something false.

You entered it under the assumption that JJ understood you—a burnt soul recognizing a companion. But that's proven to be completely untrue. JJ may have faced hardships, but his entire network is built on camaraderie. You never had that. Neither did Rafe.

Maybe that's why you gravitate towards him.

Maybe that's why you're afraid.

"Why are you here?" Rafe prompts, turning the spotlight back onto you.

You lick your lips, suddenly dry. "The Pogues invited—"

"No, don't give me that bullshit," he snaps, but his tone lacks the bite. All it demands is truth. "I mean, why did you come this time? You've been avoiding me for a reason."

You scoff. "You know."

A cruel smirk carves the corner of his mouth, framed with an innocent dimple. "I want to hear you say it."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're a liar, princess. Just like all of them."

Fire ignites in your chest by his accusation, reminding you closely of that night at Tannyhill, and your hands squeeze into tight fists. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, and licking the residual nicotine sticking to your gums, give you a minor boost of confidence. "I thought if I didn't, they'd stop inviting me."

You exhale a blow of air, similar to your cigarette, but a heavy weight lifts off your chest. You don't turn to meet Rafe's eyes, but you feel the heat of his stare.

Rafe grins, self-satisfaction ripples through his features in unparalleled triumph. "Just like me."

"Don't be a dick," you declare.

"I'm not trying to." He says. "It's just ironic."

"Ironic how?"

He takes a second to answer, lingering on the moment by sipping on the rim of his beer, letting a slow, singular drop fall from the corner of his mouth. "Because every party I've seen you at, you're always escaping it."

You shrink under this observation, nails buried into the sand to find grounding. "I needed a break."

"All the time?" He taunts.

You say absolutely nothing. And Rafe chuckles dryly. "The girl who always leaves the party. The boy who needs it. We'll make a good couple."

You lift your head. "Is that your criteria for a relationship?"

"No. But I'll take any excuse to have you."

Your breath stutters in your throat. From your previous interaction with Rafe, you concluded that he cuts through the drivel. But it's different this time around. Now, it riffled with the knowledge of knowing you, of wanting you.

Rafe always had a single-minded ambition, the type to chase after his goal until he captured it within the palm of his hand. That's you to him.

Morals be damned. As long as he has you.

To be wanted like that terrifies you. With your heart palpitating in your chest, you feel the urge to rebuild your walls. To add that familiar and safe space between you and him. "Rafe..." You trail off in warning.

Instantaneously, as if he can read you, he knows why.

Frowning, Rafe says, "Hm. Forget you're with Maybank."

You don't think that's entirely true.

"I should get back," to him, but that part remains unspoken.

Rising from your seat, you dust off the sheen coat of sand under your thighs before motioning to leave. But Rafe snatches your wrist. His grip is firm but loose enough for you to slip out, only begging you not to.

You look down, however Rafe refuses to meet your gaze. In fact, he avoids it, opting for the dark coastline that rivals the turbulent feeling in his chest. "Why are you with him?" He whispers against the wind, his tone seeping with vulnerability. "Why are you with him when you can be with me?"

You don't know how to answer that. "He was nice to me."

"I can be nice to you."

You shake your head. "It's not the same."

"Why not?" Rafe asks wretchedly, lifting his head to finally meet your gaze and you read how broken he truly is. Your chest tightens. His icy blue eyes warmed with desperation, and his grip around your wrist tightens, like a beggar seeking approval.

For a moment, you considered lying. It's the easiest way out. But there's no one here but the two of you. No one to perform to. No one but an audience who knows you soul-deep. How do you lie out of this one?

"I think you need me," you whisper. "I don't know how to be needed like that."

If you were anyone else, he'd feel insulted. To insulate he needs someone—anyone—to function implies he's weak. That he's dependent on another. But Rafe hasn't felt this sense of gratification in years. A kinship that emerges from a soul recognizing a burnt soul. He can't lose that.

"Neither do I," he answers, almost pleading. "Let's try it out."

"Try what?"

"Us." He urges. "You and me."

You shouldn't, but you can't help but consider the proposal. It's awful, especially knowing you're in a committed relationship—as committed as you can be—and you try to build excuses and logic on why this couldn't work. Why it shouldn't work. But all of them fell flat.

"You hate me."

"I didn't know you."

"You called me a bitch."

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely.

"You called me a liar," you accuse, unmasking the sting from the label.

"You are," Rafe insists without missing a beat. "But I'll take it."

You chew on your bottom lip, gnawing on the raw, broken skin until you taste iron. "I don't know," you admit, voice low, chest heavy. "I don't know if I can save you, Rafe."

This time, he doesn't have a response. This time, he's rendered speechless. It's a confessional—what he truly desires from you is redemption. To possess a mirror that resolves him of his own sins.

His fingers loosen around your wrist.

"I have to go," you say softly, taking a step towards the exit.

But it isn't quick enough.

Rafe grabs you again and gives you one last tug, forcing you to land on his lap. Before you can move, he grabs the nape of your neck and pulls you close, forehead pressed against his, chest meeting the other.

You feel the rapid thumping of his own heartbeats.

"One taste," Rafe murmurs, his eyes on yours and they're pitch-black, all dissolved of his color. "Just one taste and I'll let you go."

"One?" You ask meekly, your heart threatening to spill.

"One." He confirms, reeking of the same desperation he's always been ashamed of revealing. But he doesn't care anymore. "And you can go back to Maybank and do whatever the fuck you want."

You search his face, trying to read him, but nothing but pure primal instinct coats his rugged features. He wants you—in a way that's so animalistic, he's actively holding himself back from taking more. A sick satisfaction curves up your throat at being desired by such capacity.

"Okay."

Rafe doesn't give you a moment to retract your consent before he drags your mouth down to his, silencing every pounding thought with a kiss.

Instinctively, you steel your spine from the assault before slowly unwinding. From all the venom and vile words spilled from Rafe's tongue, his mouth is surprisingly soft and tender. His kiss is rich with desire, gripped with desperation, and it pours all his silent confessions into one. Your heart has never raced so frantically but has never been this calm.

You want this.

Logic and reason chip away when you feel how warm Rafe is. How he laps over the broken piece of your bottom lip like worship, how he craves you with the depravity of a man receiving his last meal, licking you clean until you're nothing but bones.

It's intoxicating. Where has Rafe been all your life? Why haven't you done this sooner? Your mind can't find a proper answer until a slow, nauseating reminder strikes your drunken and lustful state. It's because you're taken. It answers. You're committed to someone who isn't him.

Pulling away, you breathe, "Rafe—"

"Not enough," he declares roughly, dragging your back and stealing another kiss. It's as if it's the only air he's willing to take. He demands it—it's his.

And yet, for all your stream of moral consciousness, there's little resistance.

You allow him to take you. Devour you. To suck on your bottom lip until a metallic tang is shared between you, and to feel the warm liquid ooze onto your tongue like sacred waters. He tastes so good, and Rafe's hands fall from your arm to your waist, tugging you along until you're centered on his lap. With an automatic roll of your hips, he groans, and you feel the growing erection form in his jeans demonstrating his obsession with you.

It's just one. But one kiss turns into two and three, and suddenly you can't stop. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment with Rafe.

Pulling back a second time, your murmur against his swollen lips. "This is a bad idea."

"This is the best goddamn idea I've ever had," he breathes into your mouth, his hand straying to cup a handful of your ass under your shorts. "You taste better than I imagined."

"What do I taste like?"

"Mine," Rafe answers breathily, before cupping the back of your neck once again and aligning your mouth to his.

Addiction. Rafe is certain that's what this is. The way you rock against him, the way your body molds into his—like a perfect puzzle finding its match—he can't help but believe in fate. It infuriates him that it took him this long.

But even in a perfect moment, the illusion quickly shatters by a grating voice from the distance. Rafe wants nothing more than to ignore its bugging nuisance, but you can't seem to.

Because it's your boyfriend.

You rip away from Rafe to discover JJ's silhouette approaching the shore, searching for you. Panic zigzags through your chest and you swiftly leave Rafe's lap, brushing away any criminalizing evidence of your infidelity.

"That's one. We're done."

When JJ arrives, Rafe doesn't move. He doesn't even make a gesture to conceal the situation as JJ's eyes dart between the two of you, trying to piece together what you were doing with the Kook in the first place.

But no one reveals a thing. Not even you. You quickly apologize for leaving the party and fumble a flimsy excuse for Rafe's presence. And JJ's birdbrain accepts it, causing Rafe to scoff at the fool you're with.

When he takes your hand, leading you back to the party, you quickly accept—dragging yourself into the same space you beg to break from. And doing nothing but leaving Rafe behind.

He could leave now. After all, he came out to the shores searching for you. But there's a calamity that comes from being out here. Seeing the waters, watching the crashing of the waves. It allows him to truly think—away from the noises, away from the people, away from all the meaningless distractions.

Rafe swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the buzzing sensation left behind from your kiss, and collects a single droplet of blood. It must've spilled from you, or his bitten tongue, he doesn't know for sure. All he does is slip it right back into his mouth.

And for the first time throughout this entire night, Rafe grins. A real one. A devious one. Because he's coming to a familiar conclusion.

You parade among the people who don't give a damn about you, who don't know a single truth, and pretend you fit in their world. But you don't. You're a liar.

But as Rafe remembers the taste of your hot lips on his, the way your body fits in with his, the taste of your blood on his tongue—he realizes, so is he.

Because there's no way that is the last time he'll kiss you. That he has you. No. He had one taste and it wasn't enough.

Rafe is coming back for more.

Whether you like it or not.

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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03 / End

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part three]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 2k

masterlist

Paige has only ever fallen in love once.

She knows that it’s wrong, everything against her moral code, to have a girl in her bed while thinking of another one entirely. But in the middle of the night, when Ella is fast asleep and Paige shifts away to her side of the bed, her thoughts can’t help but wander to soft brown eyes and long tan legs. When Ella chooses a sweater from her closet to throw on, she can’t help but think of how Azzi wore it better.

But these are just remnants of feelings, Paige reminds herself. She’d gotten over Azzi long ago, when she’d realized there was no chance her best friend could ever reciprocate the same feelings. Azzi was always the first one to slip out after sex, talking about having to study or do something important. More often than not, Paige woke up to an empty bed. Azzi was the one who always changed the subject whenever Paige brought up their situationship, clearly not wanting to take things further. Azzi was the one who had met Ella enthusiastically, patting Paige on the back.

In other words, Azzi Fudd was very much not in love with Paige Bueckers.

So Paige knows that it’s a good thing that Azzi seems to be distancing herself, that it would probably help snap whatever was going on them completely in half. A clean break from a universe where she’s not completely and utterly in love with the one person she can’t have. But Paige also knows that she’s going absolutely batshit crazy without her, which is how she finds herself outside of Azzi’s apartment in the middle of the night for the second time in two weeks.

As soon as the doors opens, Paige blurts out, “Did she say something to you?”

Azzi stares bleary eyed and dazed at her. Paige almost blushes at how cute Azzi looks in her little pajama shorts, the cloth riding up to show the smoothness of her thighs. Blushes. She needs to get ahold of herself.

“What?” Azzi’s sure she’s half hallucinating.

“If she said some shit to you, you can tell me. You know I don’t fuck with anyone who doesn’t fuck with you.”

“No, Paige.” Azzi rubs her temples. It’s always three steps forward and four steps back with them.

“Then what’s the problem?” Paige says, frustrated. “You‘ve barely been responding to any of my texts and you keep cancelling our plans.”

“The problem is that you’re willing to break up with your girlfriend for me!”

Paige’s expression turns sour. “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that you’re my best friend. And I care about what you think.”

“We’re not normal best friends, and you know it,” Azzi accuses. “Ella doesn’t deserve this. I know what it feels like, constantly worrying about another girl. It’s not fair of you to treat her like that.”

“You’re calling me a bad girlfriend?” Paige scoffs and looks away, a dirty taste in her mouth. “You don’t exactly have expertise in this area.”

Azzi’s lips tremble. “I can’t do this anymore, Paige.”

“Wait.” Paige reaches for her, flinching when Azzi pulls away. “I’m sorry, Az. I didn’t mean that.”

“I think we should-” Azzi exhales, gathering her thoughts. “We should take some space.”

“Space?” Paige wrinkles her nose. “We’re not even dating and you’re fucking breaking up with me?”

“It’s not like anything will change from the last few weeks.” Azzi folds her arms, looking like she’d rather be anywhere than here. “We barely even talk anymore and when we do, we’re fighting. This isn’t healthy. And - and Ella is good for you. She’s safe.”

“I don’t want space,” Paige says. “I can’t do space.” Her voice cracks, and Azzi only realizes now how bloodshot her eyes are, the bags underneath dark and pronounced. “Not from you.”

Azzi wipes her cheek with her sleeve. “I’m sorry.” She opens her mouth to say something, then cuts herself off by looking away, and Paige is well versed in everything Azzi - her body language, her habits, her tells - enough to know that the younger girl is hiding something from her.

“Say it.”

“Paige, stop.”

“Tell me!”

Azzi bites her bottom lip, worrying the skin with her teeth. “I was just gonna say…” she hesitates. “I was just gonna say that I’m seeing someone else too. So space would be good. For both of us. For me.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”

Azzi ducks her head. “It’s not any of your business, but yeah.”

“Who?”

“It’s really new. We’re not even dating yet.”

Paige’s heart drops. “Is it a girl?”

“Yeah.” Paige’s heart plummets all the way to the floor. A guy, maybe she could handle. A girl? There’s something so much more intimate about being with a woman, and she doesn’t know if she can handle even just thinking about Azzi lying in bed with another girl, touching another girl, loving another girl.

“Can I meet her?”

“I’m introducing her to the team next week. You can come if you want.”

Paige nods to herself, still trying to comprehend the fact that Azzi is with a woman - a woman that’s not her.

“I’m sorry.” Azzi repeats quietly. Then she turns her back, heading back to her room. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“Azzi.” It’s a last plea, a cry for help.

The younger girl halts, but she doesn’t turn around.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Paige’s voice is trembling.

“Of course we are.” But Azzi doesn’t sound so sure of herself.

Paige approaches her slowly from behind, putting her hands on her waist, hesitantly at first. When Azzi doesn’t move away, instead subconsciously leaning back into her touch, she rests her forehead on the younger girl’s shoulder, breathing in her scent, breathing in her. They stay like that for a few moments, breaths ragged, cheeks wet. Then Azzi’s covering her hands with her own, squeezing them gently before moving them away, stepping away, walking away, closing the door, and she’s gone.

Paige has only ever fallen in love once. Now, she thinks her heart has broken once too.

••

“I don’t like her.”

Ella brushes mascara over her lashes, dabbing at a dark blotch that had accidentally streaked her eyelid. “You haven’t even met her.”

“Well, I can already tell she’s a bitch.” Page grumbles, pacing the room for the fiftieth time that night.

“Don’t be insufferable,” Ella fixes Paige with a scrutinizing glare. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” She grabs Paige’s hand, and Paige grimaces. Ella’s palms are always so clammy.

Much to Paige’s chagrin, her best friend isn’t even at her own apartment when they show up. The rest of the team is about to start the movie, so she sits in the corner with Ella as the lights dim. She can’t even eat the popcorn her girlfriend offers her, too busy thinking about what Azzi’s girl looks like.

Halfway through the movie, the door opens suddenly, and Azzi and the other girl fall in, giggling over something stupid. They freeze once they realize everyone’s eyes on them, but Azzi quickly straightens up and grabs her hand. “Everyone,” she says shyly. “This is Micaela.”

The entire team stands up at once, going to greet her with open arms, but Paige stays fixed to her seat, staring stubbornly at the movie. “Come on,” Ella gripes, nudging at her shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“Movie’s not done yet.” Paige finally reaches for the popcorn, steadfastly chewing the kernels without giving Micaela another glance.

Ella gives up, leaning back and folding her arms as she tosses another glare to the blonde. It’s only when Nika clears her throat that Paige looks up and realizes that everyone is staring at them expectantly.

Paige is resolved in her refusal to get up, but then she finally looks at Azzi. And Azzi is staring at her, with so much hurt and hope in her eyes, screaming you’re still my best friend, that Paige’s own chest hurts and she forces herself to stand up. “Hey,” she says gruffly, making her way over to Micaela and sticking out a reluctant hand. “Paige.”

“Paige! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan!” Micaela gushes.

Paige arches an eyebrow at Nika, trying to hold back a laugh, but the brunette gives her a warning glare. Coughing away her laugh, Paige nods. “That’s cool. It’s nice to meet you too.” She glances over to Azzi, making sure she did okay. Azzi’s shoulders relax, her smile becoming a little brighter, and Paige’s eyes soften.

Everyone gathers on the couches to finish watching the movie, but all Paige can hear is the low tones coming from the kitchen, where Azzi and Micaela had stayed to make food. But when she enters, Micaela is gone, and Azzi is alone.

“Bathroom,” Azzi responds to Paige’s lifted eyebrow. Paige nods, opening up the cabinet and rummaging through the snacks, feeling the weight of Azzi’s stare on her back.

“We don’t have anymore Chex mix.”

Cursing under her breath, Paige closes the cabinet.

“Your girlfriend’s wearing my hoodie, by the way.”

Paige’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Her hoodie. It’s mine.” Azzi tilts her head, studying Paige carefully.

Paige’s face warms. “Sorry. I didn’t notice. She just took it off my bed.” Her blush intensifies when she realizes the mistake she’s accidentally just admitted, and from the tense look on Azzi’s face, she’d caught it too. But instead of addressing it, Azzi turns away, busying herself with making her sandwich.

Paige waits a little longer, hoping the younger girl will say something else, but she doesn’t. So when she returns and KK’s pouring out shots, she takes more than a few.

“Okay, y’all. We playing truth or dare,” KK announces after everyone’s had a few drinks in their system.

Ignoring the complaints, KK gathers everyone in a circle. “I’ll go first,” she declares.

With the shots she’d taken earlier, Paige feels a little loose, a nice warmth in her tummy. She’s almost relaxed when KK says, “I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

As if on instinct, Paige’s eyes flick to Azzi. It’s brief, and she only hesitates for a second, but it’s enough. Ella shifts uncomfortably beside her. KK is smirking, not even trying to hide the look on her face. And Paige swears she sees a hint of a smile on Azzi’s lips before she looks away.

“Come here,” she says softly, pulling Ella in and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“On the cheek is crazy,” she hears someone mutter. Jana elbows KK, who rolls her eyes.

KK goes around, insisting on a new version of truth or dare where she gets to ask everyone the question. Having grown accustomed to KK’s antics, no one even bothers to protest against her system.

“Azzi,” KK says. “Who was your New Year’s kiss?”

The whole team oohs. Last year, they’d been in a hotel for a game on the first day of January. Everyone had gathered in the lobby to watch the ball drop, but Paige had convinced Azzi to sneak off with her, saying that it just wouldn’t be right to start a new year without a kiss. Luckily, no one had put two and two together, but they’d all noticed Azzi returning with a goofy smile. Despite their pestering, Azzi had refused to tell them. Paige had thought it was to keep their situationship on the down low, but she realizes now that maybe it was because Azzi was embarrased of her. Her chest constricts.

“I can’t remember.”

Paige’s grip on her shot cup tightens. Azzi refuses to meet her eyes.

“Must’ve been pretty bad if you can’t remember,” Ice snickers. Paige swears she’s seeing red.

“Yeah.” Azzi pours herself another shot and drains it. “Must have.”

••

“I suck at a lot of things, but kissing isn’t one of them,” Paige says, her words slurring together.

“What did you want me to say? Both of our girlfriends were just sitting in there.” Azzi argues, just as buzzed as Paige is. The two of them glare at each other, the alcohol coursing through their bodies making them hotheaded. I wanted you to say that you kissed me. I wanted you to say that you liked kissing me. I wanted you to say that kissing you makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else can. I wanted you to feel the same. Paige’s chest heaves.

Micaela walks in, instantly picking up on the tension in the room. “Everything okay, babe?” Her hands circle Azzi’s waist as she eyes the blonde warily.

“Everything’s fine,” Paige says shortly. “We’re in the middle of something here. You can go.”

“I didn’t recall asking you.” Micaela snaps with a fire Paige didn’t know she had inside of her. “Are you good?” she directs the question at Azzi, drawing her closer.

“I’m fine.”

“Is she bothering you?”

Paige expects Azzi to open her mouth and tell Micaela off, like she always does whenever someone tries to pit the two of them against each other. Paige expects Azzi to laugh at the sheer thought of having to be saved from her best friend. But Azzi doesn’t do any of those things. She says, “Yeah, she is.” And she lets Micaela lead her away.

Is it possible to get your heart broken twice?

[marchwardenofmordor]

I fucking loved Nosferatu. The Death and the Maiden imagery, how faithful it was to the original FW Murnau piece (including some of the recreations of iconic scenes), all the ‘Little Deaths’ and how FINALLY there’s some gnarly vampire erotica that doesn’t feature the vampire as some glazed twink, and has him as a rotten old corpse instead. Loved the Romanian dialogue. Loved that gruesome death scene, and the final frame was a fucking work of art.

Unfortunately it makes me so frustrated that not everybody will get it or understand it and why it’s so good. Everyone I’ve spoken to about it were too preoccupied with “all the weird moaning” and laughing at the full frontal vampire cock.

Meanwhile I’m sat there trying to explain vampire folklore and their cultural history, documents of ‘real’ vampirism, their symbolism and roots in xenophobia and antisemitism, blood libel, the manifestations of demons as personifications of shame and desire, Bram Stoker’s possible closeted homosexuality and his ties with Oscar Wilde and how Dracula was published around the same time Wilde was imprisoned, the ‘bohemian’ movement in the victorian period and how it simultaneously romanticised, fetishised and demonised Romani culture, la petit mort and necrophilia and how grief, sex and death are intertwined, the science behind why humans both are attracted to and repelled by the smell of indole, why funerals make people hungry/horny, the Victorian Christianity perspective on blood transfusions, the significance of blood as a ritualistic symbol and device throughout mythology and history, mental illnesses and medical conditions connected to vampirism and other vampiric folkloric creatures like the Nachzehrer and the Gwrach y Rhibyn whilst everyone looks at me like I’ve grown five heads

And honestly? I’ve never kinned Dr Van Helsing more in my life than at that exact moment.

By all means, take me to the cinema to watch a piece of vampire media but do not expect to win an argument concerning vampires against me because I can and will put you on your arse. This is my domain, my special interest.

[susannaius]

I love talking around words. This is how I was taught to speak English, and this is a tool I use a lot in my mother tongue too (sometimes I just forget words; one time a friend apparently forgot a word while telling a story and stopped to ask abruptly, in the middle of a sentence, "What is that thing that is above our head when we are not out in the open but in a house or a room?" And after a moment of silence, someone ventured, "The ceiling?" And this friend happily exclaimed, "Yes, the ceiling!" and proceeded with their story. It can happen to anyone).

At the same time, I get frustrated when people just don't do that. Sorry, mate, you repeating that one word I do not understand with more and more emphasis and anger will NOT help me understand your goal in this communication situation.

I actually really like the thing when you're starting to get the hang of a new language, enough to understand and say simple sentences but you gotta get creative to get more complex thoughts across, like a puzzle. I remember a time in the restortation school when a classmate who wasn't natively finnish and did her best anyway dropped something and sighed, telling me "every day is monday this week. I have had four mondays this week." And I understood.

I don't think I speak much of spanish anymore, but in the nursing school training period I did there, I did manage to get by with making weird Tarzan sentences. I got a nosebleed at some point and startled another nurse. Not knowing the words "humidity" or "stress", I managed to string together: "This is ok. It is hot, it is cold, I have a bad day, I am sad, I have blood. This is normal for me." And she understood.

And sometimes you just say things weird, but it's better than not saying it. One time, I was stuck in a narrow hallway behind someone walking really slowly with a walker, and he apologised for being in the way. I was not in any hurry, but didn't know the spanish word for "hurry", but I did know enough words to try to circumvent it by borrowing the english "I have all the time in the world."

The man burst into one of those cackling old man laughters that they do when something in this world still manages to surprise them. He had to be somewhere between 70 and a 100 years old, and I guess if there was one thing he wasn't expecting to hear today, it would be a random blond vaguely baltic-looking fuck casually announce that he is the sole owner and keeper of the very concept of time.

[pupyuj]

→ “cherry on top.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— gifting your girlfriend a beautiful (and expensive) necklace was going to be the perfect way to end the last night of your winter getaway but with the necklace being forgotten all the way back to your shared apartment, wonyoung decides on the next best thing…

word count: 3.7k.

dynamic: dom!jang wonyoung x sub!actress!reader.

warnings: age gap, reader is older, lots of biting and marking, fingering, mommy kink, praise kink, hair pulling, reader being an actress doesn't really play a big part lol, wonyoung is down horrendous, wony is also lowkey into pain like whoa!

requested?: nope.

a/n: fun fact, i wanted to drop this fic around/on christmas but ofc, i didn’t have enough time so i just made it winter-themed instead 😭 i would have loved to actually drop something from my wip list that's actually been there for a while but since this ended up being a short one, i decided to go with it instead! i hope you guys like it though! i know it's not my best work ever BUT this will be a nice little step to get me back to my writing machine roots 😎😎

“i really don’t know why i’m doing all of this. it’s really nothing special,” you shared a giggle with your girlfriend, wonyoung, as you guided her along the hallways. you made her wear your favorite sleeping mask to completely obscure her vision for the sole reason of surprising her with what you have spent quite a bit of time setting up earlier in the afternoon. wonyoung, despite her excitement, takes her next steps carefully. she didn’t want a stupid incident to take attention away from what you so obviously worked hard on. “but i think this is the best way to end our little trip.” you halted her steps, giving her a soft kiss from behind her shoulder and finally lifting up the mask.

wonyoung blinks several times to have her eyes adjust to the lights that illuminated the lodge. what she saw in the living room area was a humble picnic set up! soft sheets lay on the center of the room (wonyoung noticed that you pushed the coffee table aside for space) accompanied with a few pillows, a wicker basket filled with pasties, wine, and other snacks was sitting right beside it along with a bouquet of pink tulips, and right on the sheets was your laptop with Clueless more than ready to start playing.

“oh, unnie, this is wonderful!” wonyoung whips around and squeezes you for a tight hug. you returned the embrace with the same amount of love, even going as far as to giving a kiss to the side of her head. wonyoung proceeded on tugging you over at your little set-up and sat you down. one would think that you ended world hunger with the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you tried to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach—guilt. because as lovely as this was, this trip should not be ending like this. you had something far better planned! but you should have expected with the way you and wonyoung rushed to start the trip that you would forget the most important item that you would be gifting her—the prettiest diamond necklace that even made a successful and rich actress like yourself sweat with how expensive it was. 

but you weren’t going to tell wonyoung about the dent it made on your bank account, like ever. anyhow, you realized that you completely forgot about the necklace on the previous night. you weren’t able to sleep much since something in the back of your mind was screaming at you to check your bags and make sure everything was perfect for the next day and alas, the necklace was nowhere to be found! if wonyoung hadn’t been sleeping peacefully, you would have screamed out of pure frustration at yourself!

there was no use crying over spilt milk, however. and so, you spent the rest of that nearly-sleepless night thinking up of ways to end the trip on a good note even without the necklace. a cute indoor picnic was the idea you liked the most, and now that you’ve seen how much wonyoung appreciates it, perhaps the idea wasn’t too bad. the next problem to tackle was explaining all the trouble you went through to set this all up to wonyoung, but maybe that should be saved for until you’re both too buzzed to care about anything else.

“i hope you don’t think this is boring compared to everything we’ve been doing for the past week, love.” you said as you filled up two glasses with wonyoung’s favorite white wine. (upon noticing this, wonyoung couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. maybe it was painfully simple of her to fawn over the fact that you remembered her favorite drink because it was the bare minimum considering you’ve been dating for years now, but it is as they say: it’s the little things! so, do pardon wonyoung for falling in love with you just a little bit deeper.) a surprised sound escapes your lips when you feel your girlfriend pressing her lips on your jawline, but then you laugh at how her hair tickled your skin.

when wonyoung leaned back and saw that she left a faint kiss mark on your jawline, she let out a satisfied smile. “what do you mean? this is lovely, unnie.” wonyoung can’t even remember all the times she has wished for one relaxing day with you, so she was beyond thankful that she had a whole week of just that. with her being a bigger idol than ever and you jumping from project to project, naturally neither of you had too much time to be together recently. but at least you were luckier than most celebrity couples who can’t even see each other at all! mostly because of their management that just refuses to give them time together. you and wonyoung were blessed with family, friends, and teams that supported your relationship so both of you made sure to enjoy this little trip with everything it had to offer.

“well, between skiing, having lunch in an observation deck atop the mountain, seeing the northern lights, and a picnic with some movies, which one would be more appealing to you?” you asked, leaning back on the pillows. almost automatically, you wrapped a single arm around wonyoung’s waist and pulled her closer to you.

“anything’s good with me as long as i’m with you. how’s that?” wonyoung replies with a grin, knowing she successfully made you cringe in your seat.

you laughed, shaking your head. “ew. cornball.”

the next three hours were a blur. thanks to wonyoung who was clearly having the time of her life, the two bottles of wine were finished relatively quickly. she had begged you to get just one more bottle, using everything in her power to convince you from fluttering her eyelashes, pouting, kissing you, and whispering naughty promises in your ear. as much as you didn’t want to wake up with a hangover, you couldn’t resist wonyoung. especially when all you could see in her eyes every time you looked at her was love!

surprisingly enough, wonyoung was… quiet. when she gets drunk, she’s usually so chatty and giggly. laughing at everything and nothing, sometimes she even turns into a whole pervert! inappropriate comments and all! but tonight, it seems like being in your embrace, basking in your scent, and listening to your heartbeat as she lay her head on your chest was everything she needed to be content. you turn your head steadily towards her, careful not to startle her away from your warmth. her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed and gotten… heavier? was she asleep? well! that wasn’t how you expected your picnic night to go.

that is until you felt fingers sneak inside your hand-knit sweater, as well as plump lips pressed against your collarbone. a whimper accidentally escapes your lips at the cold sensation of wonyoung’s hand, and you can just tell that that was a sound you should not have allowed to come out of your mouth.

“you’re so sweet, (y/n)-unnie,” wonyoung was positively drunk! her cheeks were glaringly pink and a lazy smile spread across her face while she looked up at you from your shoulder. gods, she was adorable. but you didn’t have the time to revel in that fact when she suddenly straddles your lap, her long legs wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place. with nowhere to go, you were forced to look up at her this time. “planning this entire vacation behind my back, paying for everything and strongly refusing whenever i offered, giving me the best getaway of my life… why are you so perfect?”

“it’s what you deserve, wonyoung-ah.” your reply fell from your lips smoothly as if it was the only right answer to her question. and it really was.

wonyoung playfully rolled her eyes, “so do you. but i got distracted by how much thought you put into this entire vacation that i couldn’t think up of anything to make it up to you! except for one thing, of course…” you didn’t miss how wonyoung’s tongue swiftly brushed across her upper lip and how her smile now turned into something akin to a sly grin. her eyes spelled out her plan without needing the help of her words to which you adorably and pathetically blushed at upon realization.

“n-not everything is perfectly planned… i mean, this really wasn’t how i wanted to spend our last night here together! i was going to take you to the nearby town, have a candlelit dinner with the prettiest view of the frozen river and the snowy mountains, and… i was going to give you a—”

“—a necklace, right?” wonyoung cuts you off. (on the night you found out that the necklace was nowhere to be found, wonyoung was woken up by the sounds of your frustrated and heartbroken rants to one of your friends over the phone. you had no idea she heard everything. she made sure to hold you extra tight when you returned to bed in hopes of making you feel better. and naturally, it worked.)  you pouted as you nod your head, once again feeling sad about how careless you were on the day you both set off on your vacation.

“i couldn’t believe i forgot to grab it… and i didn’t realize that i never brought it with us until yesterday! so you can imagine the stress i was under this entire day while i tried to set this all up!” you sighed deeply after your little rant. you pulled wonyoung close, putting your head in her chest as she consoled you. she couldn’t hold her laughter due to the sheer amount of cuteness aggression she was feeling over your whining, but she made sure to pat your back and kiss the top of your head.

“that explains why you abruptly left me by myself in the skating rink this afternoon! and why you came back all disheveled and out of breath! oh, unnie…” wonyoung only laughs harder when you tighten your hold around her waist—you were clearly embarrassed by your antics from earlier, but wonyoung thinks it’s so cute. you were older and wiser than her, but there are days where your childish and adorable side slips out and wonyoung thinks it’s so, so charming. and the way you don’t realize it makes it all ten times better. makes you ten times more… desirable. irresistible.

wonyoung starts to kiss you from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your jawline… until she finally reaches your neck where she liked to just take you in and relish at how you shuddered at her actions, “necklace or not, the night would have ended up exactly the same… you did all this for me, and i would love to do things for you in return. many things.” you don’t realize that she reached behind you and undid the perfect ribbons she herself tied up for you. not until you felt her fingers drag across your now exposed skin while simultaneously giving your neck the softest kisses you’ve ever received.

“will you let me?”

she didn’t even need to ask. and she didn’t need to hear an answer from you. kissing her with never-before-seen passion was enough of a confirmation from you. wonyoung appreciates how you always allowed her to have control whenever things escalated. both of you knew you were too clueless about all this, but fortunately wonyoung wasn’t.

and thank heavens for that.

wonyoung tugs gently on your hair with one hand and holds your jaw tightly with the other, deepening the kiss, practically shoving her tongue inside your mouth and establishing dominance early on just because she so loves feeling the moment you submit to her. it happens when your shoulders relax, your hands fall on her thighs, and your hips desperately grind towards hers to quench your thirst. it’s a massive ego boost and if it wasn’t for you, wonyoung would feed on it until it consumed her… but she doesn’t allow that to happen. not anymore.

you deserve the utmost care and love and that was what she wanted to give you. what she will give you.

“mmhn.. wonyoung…” who would’ve thought that the brilliant young actress that the entire nation adores for her kind heart, bright-as-the-stars smile and unrivaled poise would elicit such sounds for a lover? but then again, jang wonyoung is not just any lover, is she?

wonyoung pulls your top over your head and tosses it elsewhere. she refused to believe that it was the wine that made you look a thousand times more delectable than usual, but rather, she accepted that you were just that stunning. with your hair unkempt in the most perfect way, your lip tint a mess on your face, chest heaving up and down, eyes clouded with longing… and the cherry on top? seeing that you were wearing the bra that wonyoung got you a few months back.

the younger girl bites her bottom lip at the sight, “please, have some patience.” whether wonyoung said that to you or to her very own hunger for you was unclear. she repositions herself so that she was now on all fours, her lips attached to yours once again but now… you had her hands on her. you wanted to feel her skin on yours, but wonyoung had plans of her own. she ignores your needy whines and your desperate attempts to undress her with great difficulty and continues on making a mess of your mind using her lips alone.

eventually, you were sitting on the couch while wonyoung was on her knees in front of you. your bra had been cast aside as well, leaving you fully topless. what a sight to behold, really. wonyoung spots a faint hickey on your collarbone, the one that she remembers putting there herself when she couldn’t help it after you both arrived at the lodge. there was another one on your shoulder which looked a lot more recent—that was from when she dragged you into the shower with her two days ago, and she was particularly proud of that one too!

you held wonyoung’s stare as her hand traveled slowly from your chest to your stomach. she was teasing you. enticing you to make a desperate action just so she can shut it down and hear you beg… but you know her game, and you don’t feel like playing it this time. besides, she asked you to ‘have some patience’! you weren’t one to disobey when she asked so nicely.

lifting your hips, wonyoung successfully got your shorts off of you and left them to fall at your ankles. “aww, you’re all ready for me.” wonyoung said smugly, staring at the wet spot on your underwear. add that to the list of things wonyoung finds so adorable about you; you can get riled up so easily, it’s sometimes unbelievable. and yet, you were never too needy and would rather wait for wonyoung to initiate something. she almost hated how patient you can really be, but hey, she was the one who asked for it!

“a-are you sure we should be doing this without closing the c-curtains—i mean, what if someone… some…” your words trail off, having been distracted with the way wonyoung gently presses her fingertips against your clothed clit and rubs very slow circles on it. and all of a sudden you didn’t care anymore. the mild shrubbery in front of the lodge was enough of a cover, you suppose.

“hm? what was that, unnie?”

“nothing.. noth—ah!” you squeak after wonyoung unexpectedly pressed hard on your clit, but cover your mouth immediately. but it’s not like anyone would hear, anyway. all of the other lodges are quite a distance away and you would have to be screaming for them to hear you and that, wonyoung feels, is quite timely because that was exactly what she wanted to do. as if it wasn’t obvious already, wonyoung has been a lot more head-over-heels for you than usual. she truly believes that she was falling in love with you all over again and the last time that happened, wonyoung had to run after you as you were leaving an event just to tell you about all about the feelings she has had for you. of course, that led to the wonderful relationship you have now… but just what else can wonyoung do this time?

“come here.” she pulls you in for a kiss. it was softer this time but it wasn’t any less passionate than the last. it almost felt like a reminder that even though her heart was on fire, wonyoung will still take care of you and you know what? that was basically the only reassurance that you needed to completely submit.

soon enough, your panties joined the pile of your clothes on the ground. wonyoung had started attacking your neck, her lips latching onto every inch of your skin and leaving lovely red marks in her wake. you’d tell her to be careful not to make them too red, or not to leave too much if it didn’t feel so good, if the way wonyoung’s fingers wasn’t so distracting with just how much she was teasing you. oh, to hell with it—you start grinding against her hand, paying no mind to how wonyoung couldn’t help but break into a smile while she worked her lips down to your chest. she wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as you can be to her before catching one of your nipples in her mouth.

your hands dig through wonyoung’s beautiful hair while your moans fill the warm, empty air. it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to anything at this point. all you can hear was wonyoung’s soft moans and heavy breathing, and it reminded you of how much you would have loved to switch roles and please her yourself, but wonyoung was sweet enough to take charge and you need this. “mmn… mommy, open up for me… please?” the younger girl whispered against your skin. you lift one leg up, giving wonyoung all the access she wanted and more. 

you leaned further back on the cushions of the couch as wonyoung inserted two fingers inside you. she was slow, careful. she always gave you chances to back out if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do any of this with her. and once she knew that you truly wanted this, she allowed herself to relax and start her work. although, her steady pace didn’t last long—each second that passed, she only thrusted faster, wanting to hear you moan over and over again. she kept glancing up from your chest, looking at your expressions and smiling to herself while she alternated between sucking on your tits and leaving marks all over them. not having had enough of it all, you started rocking your hips towards the younger girl’s hand, desperately chasing after even more pleasure.

occasionally, wonyoung would wince at how hard you tugged at her hair. she knows you don’t do it on purpose and she does like it, plus it gives her reason to, say, ‘get back at you’ by biting your skin and making you wince. and it was when she bit on your collarbone that you moaned her name wonderfully. pride surges within wonyoung. more, she wanted, and faster she went. her fingers reached deeper than they ever have before and out of your mouth came sounds wonyoung was hearing for the first time, so she kept it up.

“tell me,” wonyoung says. you hear her, but you don’t respond. “am i doing goo—mmpf!” you silenced wonyoung by quickly pulling her hair and crashing your lips together. your free hand clutches on her shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into the skin exposed by her off-shoulder blouse.

“yes…! hmnn… you’re being so good, love…” you answered as your lips briefly parted hers. wonyoung, overwhelmed by adrenaline, moans at the praise. she was soaking wet herself; her core ached for attention and your praises, your lips, and your tightness wasn’t making anything easy for her. but oh, sweet and selfless wonyoung wouldn’t stop pleasing you just as you’re about to reach your climax just so she can get off instead. she hides her face on the crook of your neck, now stimulating your clit with her thumb and driving you into a frenzy.

“i love you so much, unnie… i’ll make it up to you properly later on but—hah… but for now,” wonyoung releases your waist from her hold and places her hand behind your other thigh before pushing your leg back. “cum for me.” she mutters right against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine before you succumb and the knot in your stomach breaks. wonyoung held you as you came, trying her very hardest not to cum with you because not only will that be embarrassing but also because surely you would tease her for cumming untouched!

wonyoung pulled her fingers out of you once you were calm again. you smile at her as you didn’t have the energy to speak just yet… nor did you have the energy to do anything else at all. while wonyoung was busy cleaning up her fingers (using her mouth, naturally), you just so happened to notice that she had her legs closed a bit too tightly, and her face was flushed way beyond normal. and then, you knew. your poor, darling angel needed you too!

you went on to move yourself back down on the mattress on the floor, then, you took a hold of wonyoung’s sleeve and pulled her down with you as you lay yourself down on your back. wonyoung was confused, albeit being totally into whatever you were planning. it was when you slid a leg in between her thighs and pressed it against her throbbing core that she knew. and oh, was she ready. 

you tucked wonyoung’s hair behind her ear, and warmth blooms inside your chest when she smiles at you, “let’s make this night last, wonyoung-ah.” you mumbled as you placed a soft kiss on her nose.

“whatever you want, my love.”

well, turns out you really didn’t need that necklace, after all.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

One day, MBJ is getting frustrated with SQH simply not getting that he's being courted and he doesnt want to ask for advice from LBH (as he is also in a relationship with a human) to avoid being bullied about it - what would that guy even know to do, he almost destroyed the world for a man!

But its clear LBH is doing something right because he managed to crazy possessive girlfriend his way into a stable and loving relationship with SQQ so MBJ decides that, probably SQQ told LBH about the Human Courting Rituals and that's why LBH is successful.

So all MBJ has to do is copy what LBH does, right?

Cut to SQH coming home one day to find MBJ in an apron trying to make congee

It's both burnt and uncooked at the same time

It smells like the warm scent of wood in a fireplace

There are three broken ladles under the table

"I am not good at this, Qinghua."

No shit.

Before SQH can say anything about it-

"Just marry me already."

[mizusbabygirl]

no mercy 𝜗𝜚 • se-mi (player 380) x fem reader

wlw ────୨ৎ──── cw: rope bondage (reader receiving most of the time), strap usage, degradation kink, se-mi enjoys being called “noona” during sex, clit teasing, lazy 69ing, reader has attachment issues, se-mi could seem cold but she really does love you, reader is a bottom (send a request if you want me to make a fanfic where the reader is a top)

se-mi was tired of having the same type of sex every night with you. it was only you two either scissoring or fingering each other for hours and you two knew that y’all could do better than that.

“se-mi, where have you’ve been? i miss you”—

you hold your phone, close to your ear while calling se-mi. she hasn’t been home in many hours, it’s late at night and you began to get frustrated.

“i’ll be home soon but stop trying to call me all the time when i’m away from you, it’s annoying”—

call ends.

you didn’t get to say “goodbye” or “i love you” to her before she ended the call. it hurt you. you started pondering whether she might be cheating on you or just simply fed up with your guts. you didn’t want to cry or throw a tantrum over that inconvenience, so you got ready for bed and went to sleep alone, without her. you rolled around the empty bed, not being able to fall asleep.

just before you dozed off into an empty dream, you heard the apartment’s door unlock. your heart beat with joy and you immediately ran out of the room to go greet her. you were supposed to be mad at her but the look of her sweet face made you change your mind.

she gave you a quick kiss then walked away from you, setting down a plastic bag on the floor. you grab the bag but she pulls your hair back, making your hands lose hold of the bag. “i’ll show you what’s in this bag in our room,” se-mi let go of you and walked away from you.

she never acted like this before, nor ever tried to hurt you in any way. it’s not as if you didn’t like it, you just didn’t know how to feel about it. you make your way back into your room and find semi holding a long thin rope in her hands. she walked up to you and began kissing you, seeming desperate. “se-mi..” you broke the kiss with her. she looked at you, then she looked down at you and smiled.

both of you were now undressed, making out, the cold air from the ac made your nipples harden, as well as hers.

“i wanted to try something like this for so long with you, baby,” se-mi got out the long thin rope and started tying your hands behind your back, performing rope bondage on you.

the rope went in between your wet folds and up your ass, making you moan out. she slipped on her large black strap on and she spread open your legs, making the rope brush roughly against your pussy. she moved the rope aside and slipped her strap on inside.

you were only used to her finger fucking, but this was new. you never liked the idea of dick or anything to do with that but her strap on fucking made you change your mind.

“se-mi, why are you going so fast..? slow the fuck down..” se-mi interrupted you and slapped you across the face, “fucking bitch,” she continued fucking into your breeding hole showing no mercy.

you were fucking enjoying this, being tied up, getting fucked by her big black strap on, her showing her mean side to you for the first time.

her fucking made the rope split, releasing you. she didn’t care, she just continued fucking into you. your cervix was definitely going to be bruised after this but who is she to care anyway? she rubbed your bright red clit with one of her hands while the other was busy maintaining your legs open for her.

she accidentally pulled out, making her cock slide up against your clit making your pussy burst out with squirt. “noona..” you looked into her glossy eyes as you gasped out for air. her sharp gaze softened as she caressed your cheek and went in to kiss you.

you reached over and pulled down her strap. your brushed your fingers around her hole. her pussy twitching by the feeling of your cold fingers teasing her. as you were busy teasing her pussy, you felt her tongue slide around your pussy, causing you gasp out. se-mi grabbed your bottom and started to press her lips against your folds, darting her tongue into your pussy. you two were laying on your side, eating each other out like two starved animals. small whines escaping from both of your mouths, making the moment more arousing than your past sex sessions with her.

you got a glimpse of golden sunlight slowly lighting the room up as you were finishing eating her pussy. you couldn’t believe it, it was already morning.

your noona probably forgot to tell you that she was actually out for a long period of time because she was busy buying a strap on and a bondage rope from the local sex shop.

[plunderbunny]

I'm a cishet man, so that of course colors my perceptions of these kinds of things, as well as my anxiety and depression in general, but I think it might be useful to offer my perspective here about this kind of thing.

My primary friend group is predominantly queer, and outside of that friend group many of my friends are queer, so the vast majority of my social interactions these days is in mostly LGBTQ groups or with queer people. I love them all dearly, but there are many, many occasions when I feel like there is a kind of... Enforced distance between them and me, based largely on my orientation and gender identity. When my queer friends say things like "are the straights okay", or spend time with straight family members in bad relationships and complain about "spending time with straight couples, where is the love?", or praise media by saying nothing other than "it's so gay" as though that gayness itself was an indicator of artistic and moral quality, or get frustrated by random people out in the world being jerks and complain about "cishet assholes", or groan and boo and complain when movies or games have straight couples in them, or say they would "rather die than play a man in a video game" (even as an exaggeration), or furry friends joking about how I "still think I'm cishet, how cute", or any number of other similar tiny things, it makes me feel as though I'm less important, less loved by them, less valuable or worthy of consideration, simply because of my orientation and gender identity, things entirely out of my own control.

Now, I'm not stupid, I know that they're not often saying these things to me specifically, or trying directly to put me down. When they say these things, they're generally talking to a queer audience, and from what I can tell these things are generally meant as an expression of LGBTQ support and/or an expression of frustration with being part of a minority group that faces all kinds of discrimination, bigotry, and oppression. But knowing that doesn't mean that it doesn't make me feel less loved by these people that I care about, just because I'm a cishet man. I think that there are ways that they could make similar shows of support and love for their LGBTQ friends without potentially alienating or othering their cishet friends, in the same way that I do my best not to alienate and other my queer friends. Which, full disclosure, I know that I'm not always the best at, ESPECIALLY in the past! People are always learning, I don't expect perfection from anyone (except myself but that's the depression talking again lol).

I don't think it's quite to the level of "irrational hatred" of men that OP was talking about, but more on the level of a bunch of little microaggressions that sit in my head and add up over time and make me feel like there's an impassable gulf between myself and many of the people I love. Yes, I understand that my queer friends don't have the enormous privilege I do of not being judged and hated by much of society based on just their identity, but I don't think that that makes me deserving of less respect just because I happen to share an identity with many of their oppressors.

"straw(wo)men, youre gonna make other trans girls scared youll turn against them" is really fucking wild for a trans woman with a huge platform to say.

[lurkingshan]

Spare Me Your Mercy, Love in the Big City, and the Trap of Pursuing Mainstream Popularity for Queer Art

I read this excellent post by @waitmyturtles yesterday tackling the frustrating failures of Spare Me Your Mercy, a show that was one of my most anticipated of the year, but that ended up so lost in its own confusing blend of sauces that I didn't even finish it. I appreciated her clarity that despite the show receiving strong ratings and finding popularity with the mainstream domestic audience, that doesn't actually make it a success as a piece of narrative storytelling. And if anything, its popularity underlines why it was a failure as a queer narrative, in particular.

Because here's the thing about great queer art—it's almost never popular with mainstream audiences, especially in socially conservative countries. High quality, well-executed, honest and authentic queer art is more likely to be protested than celebrated in places where real queer people are not safe to live free lives. For an illustration of this, look no further than another highly anticipated queer drama of this year in Love in the Big City. Easily the queerest show to ever get made and aired on Korean television, it drew major protests before it even started, forcing the production to release it quickly in one go to ensure it would reach audiences. And why were those conservative groups so afraid of this little old drama? Because even just in its trailer and promotional materials, it was clear this was no sanitized, G-rated drama created to make gay people seem more palatable to the masses (unlike the film version with the same name, which not coincidentally has been much more warmly received by the Korean media establishment). This show was real, and raw, and QUEER in a way that terrified those bigots, because they know one of the most important ways the oppressed can advocate for themselves is by demonstrating their humanity through art. 

Which brings me back to turtles’ post, and the importance of separating the concerns of art and commerce when discussing the different ways media can succeed. This is something I had some good dialogue about with @biochemjess @pharawee @clairedaring @flowerbeasblog and turtles (and even more of you in the tags) when I was still watching and posting about Spare Me Your Mercy. I originally posted to unpack why the show was flopping narratively, which turned into a discussion of the fact that it was getting good ratings from the domestic audience despite this. And while I appreciated understanding how the show is landing with its priority audience, for me, it’s very important to keep a distinction between these two different kinds of success. Especially in discussions of queer art, and especially for a show whose creators explicitly said they were intentionally downplaying the queer romance part of the queer romance ( @benkaben) to avoid “distracting” from their other messaging goals. 

The important thing to keep in mind is that for queer stories, when they are popular with a mainstream audience it’s often because they are stripping any authenticity from the representation of queer people. Turtles addressed this well in her review of 2gether when she posited that part of the reason it was such a phenomenon in conservative Asian countries (aside from the timing of its release in the early days of the global pandemic), was because its presentation of queerness was mostly unrecognizable to real queer people, stripped of any true notion of queer sexuality or the realities of homophobia. Compare the reception of The Miracle of Teddy Bear—a show that absolutely refused to make its central queer character palatable for a mainstream audience, because the fact that he wasn’t palatable was the point—to that of Spare Me Your Mercy, a show whose creators chose to censor their own story. The ugly truth is that when we’re talking about queer dramas, the best and most vital shows are pretty much anathema to mainstream ratings success.

The impulse to pursue mainstream popularity and commercial success for queer art inevitably leads to watering down queer stories ( @twig-tea) to make them more light, comfortable and familiar to a majority heterosexual and socially conservative audience. And yes, of course, some degree of commercial success is necessary for queer art to get made in the first place. This is how the Thai BL market took off, by recognizing that there was an audience beyond queer people who were open to watching stories about boys falling in love, as long as it didn’t get too real. But there is a careful line to walk here, and it’s so important not to confuse popularity with artistic merit. Queer people won’t win liberation by self-censoring queer media to make it more palatable for mainstream audiences. We win when we make queer art so good and so honest that the mainstream is forced to acknowledge it. We win by challenging the mainstream perspective on queer people and how they should behave, not by catering to it. As @bengiyo said in a completely different discourse, the question is not whether the audience can love queer characters whose actual queerness is suppressed for their comfort. That kind of respectability politics is old hat and it never fucking gets us anywhere. The real question he posed is this: “Do you love us when we’re ugly, when we’re sick, when we’re old, when we’re being mean or catty?”

Which is why a show like Love in the Big City ultimately won by being so excellent, and so true, and so undeniable, that it broke through with audiences around the world and achieved some measure of recognition in spite of how very unpalatable it was to its domestic audience. Unlike Spare Me Your Mercy, this show did not get amazing domestic ratings, but its message was heard far beyond those who watched it on Korean television. And that is the point. Making authentic art that advances the struggle of queer people and making nominally queer art that can achieve mainstream popularity are completely different pursuits, and we must keep that in mind when we discuss whether and how these shows succeeded or failed. And while both must exist in a healthy media ecosystem, one will always be more vital for the survival of queer people than the other. 

[hvnlygrl]

can u pls pls pls write this, nobody is taking my rqs.

so basically jj/rafe comforting reader bc shes crying after he overstimulated her as a punishment for spending time w pogues/kooks and her touchy bsf jj/rafe

hold me now.

pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

word count — 1.4k

warnings — overstimulation, rafe gets in his feelings, reader cries, mention of throwing up, hurt/comfort, brief smut (minors dni), p in v.

synopsis — you’ve been spending too much time around the pogues, and more specifically around your touchy best friend jj and rafe funnels his jealousy into your sex life. he goes too far and he hates himself for it.

notes — i love this request idk why nobody else wants to write it 😭 hope you’re okay with me picking rafe for the pairing ive been wanting a rafe request 💌

you’d known jj since you were four years old, his dad living right next door to your mom. you grew up together, learned how to ride bikes on the same day, were there for each other’s first heart breaks in elementary school and fought off the other’s bullies without a second thought. to you, he was the brother you never had, and to him, you were his entire world. he’d never admit it to anyone but he was positively in love with you.

jj had no idea when his love for you turned into more than it was in the beginning, but he couldn’t deny to himself the feelings he held for you. and to your boyfriend, rafe, it was obvious. 

rafe felt the rage building in his chest as he watched jj wrap his arms around you, a grin across his lips as you laughed and laughed. he couldn’t hear what jj said that was so funny, but judging by your laugh, it was probably some inside joke about some niche topic that he wouldn’t be able to begin to understand. 

rafe tried not to be the overbearing type with you, knowing that it brought you great stress as it reminded you of the relationship you witnessed between your parents growing up, but he just couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel to you and jj. he knew it was trivial, and that you would never in a million years be the type of person to cheat on him, but he also feared that if it came down to it, you would choose jj over him. 

rafe knew he couldn’t yell at you or cuss you out over it, because ultimately it wasn’t your fault. but he had to do something to stop himself from bursting at the seams with everything he was holding in. it drove him insane that he couldn’t do anything about the close relationship you held with the pogue, but he had to find another alternative. 

so he funneled his frustrations into your sex life. 

you lied there, looking up at him with big doe eyes as he drilled into you harshly, one hand gripping the bed frame above you as the other held onto your hip tightly. 

you cried out, eyes rolling back as he continued his momentum, growing closer and closer to yet another orgasm as he fucked you. you wouldn’t say that it hurt, because it didn’t hurt per se, but you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the way he was fucking you tonight. 

“r-rafe-” you whined desperately, hand reaching up to dig into his bare chest. 

“yea?” he breathes out through a groan, head turned up toward the ceiling as he brings himself closer to his own orgasm. 

you whimper as another climax rushes over you without warning. rafe doesn’t realize how overstimulated you are until tears begin flowing from your eyes. he sees the look on your face and wants to punch himself. you look so fragile, face turned away from him as he quickly pulls out, backing away from you as he catches his breath. 

“baby,” he reaches out toward you, heart aching when you turn further away from him, curling into yourself. “babe?”

you groan in response, naked body folded as tightly into itself as humanly possible. 

he hangs his head as he makes his way to the bathroom. rafe nearly throws up when he hears your delicate sobs emanating from the bedroom. “fuck,” he whispers as he looks in the mirror at himself. his chest and back are covered in scratches, his cheeks red and blotchy, and his hair completely askew. 

he has no idea when he got so carried away with everything, or when it became too much for you and he wants to throw his head through the wall at the fact that he didn’t notice. he should’ve noticed that he was taking it too far with you. 

rafe quickly finishes himself off in the bathroom, heart in his throat as he returns from the bathroom with a damp washcloth. he watches you breathe in and out slowly and deeply, trying to stop yourself from crying further.

you genuinely had no idea why you were crying, but you couldn’t get yourself to stop. you weren’t even upset in the slightest, you just were so overwhelmed that your body was having a visceral reaction to anything and everything at this point. 

rafe threw a pair of boxers and sweatpants on and grabbed you your favorite comfy shorts and one of his shirts and a pair of loose cotton panties. he carries the clothes over to the edge of the bed and kneels beside you. 

“baby?” he reaches out to you again, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you don’t shy away from him. “can i clean you up?” 

you nod pitifully, body still tensed as he gently opens your legs again to wipe at your sensitive area. you whimper, unable to prevent the tears from flowing yet again when the cloth touches your clit. “s’too much.” 

“i know,” he whispers, “i’m so sorry, my love, i went too far, i should’ve paid attention to you and how you were feeling.” 

you want to comfort him, but part of you knows that nothing you can say will even begin to ease the thoughts in his mind. rafe had done countless hours of therapy to try and be better for you, and you knew that to him, this was a major setback. 

“i love you,” you whisper back, “it’s not your fault.” 

he leans forward, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, “i love you. thank you.” 

you hum in response, body feeling like jello as he pulls the clothes he picked out for you over your body. he adjusts you so that you’re comfortably sat under the comforters, back resting against the pillow on the headboard. he slides in next to you after turning off the big light and adjusting the a/c to your preferred settings. he sits near you, without touching you, unable to bring himself closer to you due to the thoughts racing through his mind. he feels awful, he never meant to take it that far. 

you both sit in silence for a beat, just listening to the sound of the a/c kicking on and the dog’s claws clacking against the hardwood floors. after a moment or two, you roll over, inching yourself closer to him slowly. your muscles are sore and your body aches from overuse as you put your head on his stomach. 

he drags his fingers through your hair mindlessly, listening to your soft hums of approval. 

“it’s not your fault, rafe,” your voice is soft and raspy, “i don’t blame you.” 

rafe wants to believe you, and he knows that you mean what you say, but he just can’t see it the same way as you. you were always the optimist in the relationship. “i just get so worked up over jj, i know i shouldn't, i know he’s not going anywhere, but i can’t help it.” 

you’re silent for a second. “i know.” you turn your head so that you can see his face, and he can see yours. “but look at me, baby, i’m not going anywhere. and i love jj, yes, but he’s my brother. i will never be able to look at him the way i look at you, we’ve been through too much together.” 

“i know, that’s what scares me,” rafe’s brows furrow deeply, “i’m scared that because he’s been there for forever and he knows everything, that i’m always gonna be left out. that it’s always gonna be the jj and y/n show and i’ll always be a background character.” 

“you won’t, you aren’t,” you frown at him, “it's our show, baby, and i’m not going anywhere. and i'm sure as hell not gonna let jj be the thing that gets in between us.” 

he nods, but you can tell that he’s still struggling to believe it. 

“i love you, rafe cameron. you’re my soulmate, you’re my entire world. i would die if anything happened to you, do you understand that?” 

“i know,” he nods again, this time more sure of himself. “i would kill if anything happened to you. i can’t even imagine that.” 

“good. don’t imagine it, because nothing’s gonna happen to me, and nothing’s gonna happen to us. i love you so much, baby.” 

“i love you so much, y/n.” 

“forever and a day?”

“forever and a day.” he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for longer than normal before pulling you closer into his arms. he squeezes you tightly. “i promise i won’t hurt you like that again. i’m so sorry.” 

“apology accepted, rafey,” you wrap your arms around his, kissing his hands gently. “now make me a sandwich please?”

“anything you want, my love.” 

-> back to masterlist

taglist — @lanasb0ngwater

[inmyheaddd]

after midnight - percy jackson x reader

summary: percy jackson!boarding school au - its late at night and you're trying to sneak back to your dorm room. everything is going to plan, until percy jackson appears and makes a plan of his own, one that involves him being way closer to you than usual. wc: 2k

the school halls were eerily quiet as you tiptoed down the corridor, your heart pounding in your chest.

you weren't supposed to be out after curfew, but as you were reading, you looked out the window momentarily, and the stars had looked too perfect to resist sneaking up to the roof.

you were passing through the main hall now, and were just trying to get to the staircase which led to the girls dorms upstairs. you warily looked around, then you suddenly froze.

you heard footsteps behind you. just your luck— of course you were about to get caught. you were already beginning to think of excuses to tell the teacher before you turned around to look.

you turned your head slowly, pulse thrumming in your chest.

but it wasn't a teacher. in fact, you probably would've preferred it to be, because now you were face to face with none other than percy jackson.

you realised this was the first time you saw him out of his school uniform. he was wearing dark blue sweatpants, a plain white shirt that seemed to be a tiny bit too small- considering the way the sleeves hugged his biceps, and his hair was even messier than usual.

percy tilted his head at you, a sleepy grin slowly stretching on his face as he realised here you were, breaking the rules.

he called out your name, "lovely seeing you here," he looked down at his arm in a way one would check their watch, except he didn't have a watch. "isn't it past your curfew?

you swallowed thickly, still not fully out of your previous stupor from your fear of being caught. "you didn't see anything. leaving now." you blurted quickly, turning around on your heels. "bye!"

you began speed walking away, but you heard percy mumble, "hold on, not so fast." as he jogged up to you.

he put a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you whipped your head around to face him.

"you know, this is really off brand for you." he tilted his head at you questioningly, his sea green eyes looking dark in the dim light of the hall. "what is it with you and breaking the rules recently?"

"im not breaking any—" you cut yourself off with a huff, because... you technically were breaking rules. "whatever, well you're out too. what are you doing here?"

he held up his left pinky finger simply like it held all the explanations, and it was wrapped with bouts of bandage and had a splinter to keep it straight.

you snorted, "you're kidding."

"nope." he responded, a twinge of bitterness and sass in his voice that made you want to laugh. "i was peacefully, respectfully, might i add, minding my business in my own bed. when my buddy thought it would be funny to sit on my goddamn hand while i slept."

you bit back a smile at the way he was visibly frustrated at the story, huffing and running his other hand through his hair.

you nodded, "wow, that really sucks," you said dryly, gaze flickering from his hand to his face. "i feel so bad for you."

"is that sarcasm? ya know, i don't think my pinky will ever look the same, it was all cooked and bent and bruised." he rose his eyebrows and held up his pinky for added effect. "even the guy who did it winced when the nurse was wrapping it up. believe me, not a pretty sight."

you refrained from laughing at his dead-seriousness. "no, no, i'm being for real. that looks really bad." you said, shaking your head, but the smile you were falling to hold back said otherwise. 

you cleared your throat as you picked up on what he else said. "oh! but, at least your friend took you to the nurse after what he did."

percy frowned. "took me to the nurse?" he repeated, his eyebrows scrunched up. "oh

- no, he's uh," he couldn't even finish his sentence without a low chuckle escaping his lips, "he was there for his own reasons." he ran his good hand over his jaw, humming slightly. "still there, actually.”

your eyebrows raised in shock slightly, suddenly taking real notice of the bruises on his knuckles. you were just about to say something really smart like, 'oh!' when you both suddenly froze, eyes widening as you caught each others gaze.

you both heard footsteps from ahead, and percy didn't say anything as he quickly wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

well he said one single word: "limp."

the proximity made you stumble over your words; you had ever even physical contact with the guy before, and now his whole arm was around you and urging you to lean your weight on him.

"what the?" you spluttered, and the fact that he smelled really good did not help your predicament.

if whoevers footsteps you were hearing belonged to a teacher, surely percy's arm around you would not help you get out of trouble. 

a girl and a guy all huddled together after curfew? thats like asking for a lifetime of detentions— as if percy didn't have enough detentions. you, on the other hand, never had any. you weren't about to let him ruin that for you.

"percy, i know how to handle-" you began to whisper-shout at him, only to cut yourself off as the footsteps got increasingly and dangerously closer.

now you had no choice, pushing him off would look equally suspicious.

you started limping.

you hoped whatever crazy plan he had pushed you two in was going to work, because what came into view was your principal.

she must've been doing the dorm checks, because she didn't look all that shocked to see the two of you in the hallway, almost as if she was specifically looking for someone to get into trouble.

your principal stopped in her tracks, posture as straight as ever and still in her work clothes, as if it wasn't 12 at night. "percy jackson," she chided, her tone sour. "past curfew, again. what's new?"

you both continued walking, well, percy helping you walk as you fake limped towards her, slightly hunched over like you were really struggling.

she didn't say anything to you, but you noticed the slight raise of her brow as she took in the way percy's arm was around you.

you heard percy take a deep, almost shuddering breath beside you, and it occurred to you he might've been nervous too- because of the teachers presence, of course.

"well, actually, mrs edwards, both of us happened to be at the nurse," he help up his other hand with his injured pinky. you watched him resist a smile then clear his throat, "and, uh, as you can see, she injured her leg. the nurse asked me to help walk her to her dorm."

mrs edwards hummed with her eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking like she considering the story, then she raised a questioning brow at you. "is this true?"

percy was covering for you? why didn’t he just let you get in trouble? wasn’t that his motive 24/7?

it was moments like these that made you question everything you thought you knew about percy jackson.

you brought yourself out of your thoughts as you nodded quickly, "yeah, unfortunately." you said with a light, hopefully convincing and natural laugh.

"you know how competitive sports gets sometimes, there's always an injury." you glanced at percy next to you, and he was already looking at you, his gaze completely focused on just you and a strange glint in his eye and a smile like he was amazed . he looked away the second you caught his eyes though.

"very well, i see." she managed a small smile at you, but it faded just as quick as it came when she looked at percy. "nevertheless, you need to get to your dorms. it is far too late." she looked both you and percy up and down. "and," she regarded you, "i hope your leg recovers soon."

"thanks mrs edwards," you managed a smile, ignoring the way you couldn't tell if your heart was beating this fast because of percy's arm around you, or almost getting into trouble. "goodnight."

you slightly nudged percy with your elbow, still awkwardly smiling at your principal.

"ow!" he quickly cleared his throat, "i mean, uh, goodnight, mrs edwards."

your principal sighed, shaking her head slightly as if she was thinking, what on earth do i do with this kid? before she finally said, "goodnight, you two."

she then walked off in the direction you two came, the click-clacking of her shoes fading off behind you as she went.

you exhaled a deep breath you hadn't realised that you were holding, you actually got away with it. you heard that the last time a group of friends were caught past curfew, they had to spend their break time cleaning up the PE changing rooms. for a month. 

that moment of relief was short lived, because you heard percy groan petulantly from beside you. "man, what about my finger?" he complained, "you had a fake injury!"

you let a giggle fall past your lips. you didn't know why, but in this moment you didn't hate percy so much. maybe it was that without all the people around, the rude teachers, gossipy students, stress surrounding academics, everything just felt easier and lighter in this quiet moment with him here.

it almost felt like talking to a friend, which was something you'd never say outloud, because, well, he annoyed you and you hated it. that was your thing: it wasn't helping out each other get out of trouble and walking with his arm wrapped around you and smiling and feeling flustered no. you didn't get flustered, especially not at the hands of percy jackson.

"i don't think she likes you very much." you said sarcastically, fake pity painted over your features as you pressed your lips into a line.

"yeah?" he chuckled, looking at you with a slight tilt in his head, "i really don't think so either."

you smiled, glancing behind you, seeing your principals retreating figure fully gone, so you stopped limping and straightened up. "um, thanks for covering for me."

"its no biggie," he said casually, he said, his arm still wrapped around you. he realised a second later, then cleared his throat as he swiftly put his arm back at his sides. "i-my bad, sorry."

you hoped he couldn't see the flush of "its fine, percy." you said with a near nervous laugh, but you prayed it came off as casual. "chill."

he shot you a bashful smile, but it quickly turned playful after he looked you up and down. "uh, you know, since i did you a favor, that technically means you owe me big time now." he said half jokingly, "so, that means i can copy off of you in tests, like, for life, right?

"of course you'd ruin the moment like that." you debated shoving him as you huffed a laugh, not missing the way percy's gaze stayed fixed on you as you smiled. "no, you can’t copy off of me, idiot."

his grin widened, stepping a little closer to you as you continued waking side by side.

"are you saying that there was a moment to ruin?"

your eyes widened, keenly aware of his closeness which made it almost impossible

"wha- no! there was no moment. i was just-" you cut yourself off, seeing that glint in his eye that told you he was trying to get you to stumble like this. "goodness, you are so annoying.”

"i do try." he shot you a grin and you rolled your eyes, which felt natural, like what you always did.

what wasn't natural though, was the smile you fought back and the urge you felt to look at him once again and see that grin of his. 

what was happening to you?

you sighed, finally choosing to shove him little to which he only laughed at. "its definitely working, i'll tell you that much." you muttered, which was probably the wrong thing to say, because you got a feeling he'd only annoy you tenfold more now.

you were 10 steps away from the door that held the the staircase that led to your dorms. on said door, there was a big poster decorated by the girls in your block. ''girls dormiotes. no boys!'' written in bold, underlined in red.

''you know, maybe i should walk you to your dorm.'' percy suggested, scratching the back of his neck. ''can’t have you tripping over yourself, i mean your leg injury was pretty serious.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “you wanna walk me to the girls’ dorms? i’m good, thanks.”

percy laughed, taking a step back as he raised his hands. “hey, i’m just trying to make sure my friend gets to her room safe. no ill intentions here.”

you stared at him, arms still crossed as you deadpanned. “i’m your friend?”

percy blinked. “...yes?”

you couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh, a stark contrast to the way your heart fluttered, and how it felt like there wasnt just butterflies in your stomach, but the whole goddamn zoo.

you shook your head. “ok, well, friend or not, i don’t need your help.'' you told him.

you turned on your heel, walking away quickly, trying to mask the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. you could practically hear the way percy stood there, speechless, behind you.

but just as you reached the door, you heard his voice, still full of amusement. “i see how it is.”

you glanced back over your shoulder, one hand on the door handle. he was standing there, one hand still in his pocket, the other placed over his heart dramatically “you’re really just gonna leave me hanging like that, huh?”

you chuckled as you rolled your eyes, giving him a little wave sarcastically. ''better?''

''much better.'' he seemed to have recovered from his shock, that grin of his settling back on his lips as he put his hand back in his pocket.

"same time tomorrow?" he quipped jokingly, with the quickest of winks you almost wouldn't have caught it if you weren't so focused on the way his eyes looked in this light.

you smiled sweetly, "not a chance in hell.”

percy sighed, fake slumping and shaking his head to himself. "i tried." he mumbled, sliding his hands into his pockets.

you chuckled half heartedly, the 'staying up late' finally catching up to you as you offered percy a sleepy smile, your hand still on the handle ready to go.

"alright, goodnight, percy."

this time, he didn't need to be nudged to say it back.

he smiled a genuine smile at you, "goodnight."

taglist: @lovethornes @littlemissmentallyunstable @midiosaamor @maybxlle @imaseabear @sheisntyou @off-to-the-r4ces @anintellectualintellectual @wish-i-were-heather @hxress23 @hermesenthusiast

[married-to-google-translater]

https://www.tumblr.com/married-to-google-translater/771476026857488384/hello-i-would-like-to-ask-for-an-imagine-of-leona?source=share

Omg ...hi i hope your doing great .your self aware jamil and leona was perfect😍❤.would you please do a self aware yandere jamil and leona and vil and trey (separately)breaking the 4th wall and appear befor reader?( what if reader loving them so much and happly jumps in their arms ?) Thank you❤

I do this now for Vil~

Plz send me more of self aware au stuff

Yandere Vil Schoenheit

Vil would like to make sure that the game you and the real you are the best versions of yourself.

Of course, this would be difficult because Vil wouldn't be able to interfere much with what "the real you" is doing.

This frustrates him more than Vil would like to admit.

You might cause him some wrinkles

However, Vil was not going to give up.

Even if the situation was difficult, with hard work almost anything would be possible.

Vil edits would be like "remember to drink water", "go to bed on time" or "your boyfriend is definitely not good enough for you."

This would be a bit creepy for you~

Vil would be really attentive.

Only the best would be good enough for you.

You would also REALLY get a lot more scenes with Vil.

However, when you try to search for information on the Internet, nothing would be found.

At the same time, Vil would look for a way to get you into his world.

[notapradagurl7]

Rather Love Than Lost.

Black Fem!Queen! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.King!

Summary: In a world where duty and tradition weigh heavily, You found yourself being chosen to a suitor in an arranged marriage, soon to betrothed to your childhood friend, Kelvin in order to save your family from ruin.

Word Count: 2,525k

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @henneseyhoe @writingsbytee @life-in-the-slut-house @euphorichappiness10 @miguelspvssy @blackmoonchilee @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @planetblaque @keyera-jackson @sageispunk @slippinninque @soft-persephone @avoidthings @dxddykenn @pocketsizedpanther @kaylaahisthebestest- @thevelvetwhispers @ovohanna24 @liatreads @sweettea-and-honeybutter @babybratzmaraj @mymindisneverhere @nayaesworld

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, praise, PWP, mention of wealth and power dynamics, profanity, consensual for both parties, mention of emotional distress, defiance against social expectations, PIV, fingering, oral(fem receiving), fighting, angst, arranged marriage, mention of grooming, mention of verbal abuse.

A/N: Happy New Year! I decided to kick off the year with Kelvin! Enjoy! Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

—————

You sat by your ornate, stained glass window with your pen scribbling across the journal in your hand, your purple dress billowing softly around you, the light of the sun shining on your brown skin, your heart felt heavy, expectation and duty gripped you by the throat.

The golden light of the sun steamed through, casting hues on the polished white marble floors.

You promised yourself never to journal again ever since your father chose to read it without your consent, it frustrated you. Before he could read anything else you toss it in the fireplace.

“At last, the day for me to rid of this place has come, finally,” you whispered to yourself, smiling at your writing.

Hearing the sound of heels clicking on the floor toward made your heart race. Your brown hair styled in box braids, tied up in a bun, your crown decorated with an amethyst at the center.

You did it after every time you chose to write, how could he chose to invade your privacy? He explained that you never chose to tell him but that didn’t give him to do that.

A knock on the door made you stand up from your chair quickly before throwing your written piece of paper into the fireplace, the flickering of fire made you set free, “Come in!” You called out, moving the chair back to the table.

“Y/N, are you squandering in your chamber? Why do you linger there my dear?” Your mother asked in a curious tone.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “No, mom. I’m already dressed and ready to get this shit over with,” you replied, standing up.

The door creaked open, your mother stepped inside and her face twisted up. “Watch your mouth young lady, come on, we must get ready for your courtship with Kelvin, we are meeting his family today then the wedding will happen,” she said with pride.

“I never asked for this future, Mother,” You protested, your tone filled with frustration.

She placed her hands on your shoulders, her face softening at you. You felt the tug at your heartstrings from the memories of your childhood with Kelvin, running through the gardens.

“The same dreadful way happened to me when I was your age, your father wasn’t the best husband, the miscommunication, leaving me with you and your siblings, fucking those jezebels, Thankfully he died and I earned every single of his fortune,” Your mother confessed.

Your father was neglectful to you, hadn’t shown much affection or nitpicking at everything, you, your siblings, your mother. He was a bully, he had no discipline and refused to change, he drank liquor and smoked cigarettes all day.

The day that he died you felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. Relief that the torment was over, but sorrow for the man who had failed to be a father, a husband, or a friend.

"Y/N, You must understand, this marriage to Kelvin is more than just a union of hearts. It's a bond that will secure our family's future." your mother's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

They were soon to be married just like you, All of you were groomed at a young age to be the dutiful wife, the husband who provides, perfection is what they wanted.

You were the oldest of your siblings, you had to be the first one to be able to save your family, why did have to be you?

The thought of marrying someone you didn’t know made your skin crawl.

Your lips sealed at her voice, your brown eyes locked with hers. “Let’s go, sweet pea,”

You walked out of your room beside your mother, her curls bounced gracefully with every step and her hand on your back. She quickly moved it away, you put on a fake smile once you stepped out.

Walking through the hallway and out of the house, trotting the stairs and your mother called the servants to get the purple carriage with brown horses, it arrived quickly.

Enzo opened the door for both of you, you grabbed his hand and walked up the steps, seating yourself on the plush seating. Your mother sat across from you while the door closed.

“Take us to the Harrison’s castle please, make it quickly.” Your mother announced to them, closing the velvet curtains.

The carriage ride began with the horse neighing, and showing the path lined with blooming flowers, you looked outside of uncertainty. Still, your mother urged on.

“We can reclaim our family’s status. You will be the queen of a powerful kingdom, but love will grow, you and Kelvin have history,” Your mother trailed off.

You only nodded and hummed in response, repeating “Yes, Mother, I understand,”

The carriage came to a halt, and you stepped down. The grand entrance loomed ahead, flanked by guards in polished armor, their eyes trained on you as if you were already a queen.

"Remember to stand tall, my dear. You are a royal now," your mother whispered, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Inside, the air was thick with anticipation.

Candelabras flickered, casting warm shadows on the walls adorned with portraits of past black kings and black queens with their children.

There, in the center of the grand hall, stood Kelvin-handsome and regal, dressed in a finely tailored suit that accentuated his lean frame.

Your mother and Kelvin spoke of you and him, making the promise of fortune, well known status of greatness, and unfortunately, grandchildren.

"Y/N! I missed the hell out of you," he exclaimed, a wide smile breaking across his face as he rusher toward you. "You look stunning."

“Thank you Kelvin,“ you replied, your voice steadying as you approached him.

You stood beside him with a smile, “It’s been a while, yes! I've missed you too darling,”

He grabbed your hand and kissed it tenderly, “I missed you more beautiful,”

It was evident that you and Kelvin had genuine feelings for each other, you remembered him as the boy who made you laugh, you felt cherished and cared for,

After the conversion with both of your families, his mom clapped her hands and said “Let the wedding begin! Oh I can't wait for it!” she exclaimed.

You walked down the purple velvet carpet with flowers in your hands, your white gown draped over your feet while Kelvin winked at you, smiling at his bride-to-be.

Finally making it there, standing across from Kelvin, you looked up at him. “I'm glad it's you,”

“I'm glad it's you, only you,” he reassured softly.

Vows were spoken in short and sweet ways, “Kelvin, I promise to love and care for you,”

“Y/N, I swear to provide you, protect you and be there for you, I've dreamed of this day ever since,”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride”

As the priest said the words, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Your families erupted in applause, cheered both of you on, walking down the alise beside him. Flowers petals were thrown in the air like confetti.

Walking out of the church, trotting down the stairs while the carriage pulled up at the right time, wanting not to talk to your family.

“Are you alright Y/N?” he asked in concern, his eyes on you.

The carriage door swung open, and you both climbed in, the plush interior wrapping around you. As the carriage began to roll away, the cheers of your families faded into the distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, leaning against the seats. Looking outside to your freedom, they were heading toward the castle.

You shook your head, feeling the tension release. “No, I'm not, just...a lot to process, you know? I never imagined I’d be here, at this moment. I'm just a ticket for my mother to get more status and wealth Kel,”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "What if I can't? What if it's all just a façade?"

Kelvin reached out, his hand enveloping yours. "Then we'll break down those walls together. We'll find our way through this maze of expectations. I promise I won't let you go through this alone."

A small smile tugged at your lips, but it quickly faded. "You say that now, but what if you change? What if you become just like them?"

He shook his head vehemently. "I won’t. I refuse to become that man. You mean too much to me. I want to protect you, not control you. Just give me a chance to prove it."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all you found was sincerity. "You really mean that, don’t you?"

"With every fiber of my being," he replied, squeezing your hand tighter.

The carriage ride finally came to an end, The castle loomed ahead. Both of you stepped out, hand in hand. Once inside the grand castle, the air was thick with opulence.

Chandeliers glimmered above, and the walls were adorned with gold accents. You felt like a fish out of water, but Kelvin's presence grounded you.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, taking a deep breath.

You walked through the halls with him, entering the bedroom and closed the door. Immediately kissing him passionately, unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuttoned the back of your wedding dress, the dress fell on the carpet.

“Damn, you’re just as fine as I remember,” he groaned against your lips, his hands roaming over your waist, pulling you closer.

“You’re so passionate baby,” you breathed, your fingers sliding over his waves as you deepened the kiss, pouring everything you felt into it—anger, desire, frustration, and a longing you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge.

He responded by lifting you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall, his body a hard contrast to the softness of yours.

You tucked at his belt buckle and moved your head to the side to tease, “Take it off for me, baby,” you demanded with a firm tone.

Kelvin’s eyes darkened with desire, the challenge in your voice igniting something primal within him. He smirked, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt, eyes never leaving yours.

“I'm all yours, I promise to make you so happy,” he said softly, his smile shining from the moonlight.

“Just kiss me,” You chuckled, cupping his face. He kissed your lips once more, his lips soft and plump.

With a swift motion, he freed himself from his pants, the tension between you two palpable. “You’re right, but there’s no going back after this,” he replied, his tongue gliding across his lip.

He moved you to the couch, taking off your pants and underwear and you laid forward on the cushions, he hovered over you with his hands on your hips tight. “You ready?”

“Yeah, just fuck me already,”

By your word, he pushed his dick inside. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his length stretching you out, he groaned from the warmth and wetness around him. “Pussy’s still wet and tight as hell like I remember,” he grunted, biting down on his lip.

His hips rolling into you at a fast yet rough pace, your hands gripped the armrest. His hand rested on the nape of your neck, pulling in for a kiss, moaning Your essence coated him making it easy for him to slide right back in.

Your past, your anger to your mother, damn near everything faded away from every single thrust from the male, tears falling from your eyes. Replaced with pleasure, your screams echoed around the walls.

“Ouuu, I missed this dick,” you cried out, nails leaving marks on his back. Your eyes closed, rolling your hips with him.

He darkly chuckled at your moans, your face twisting up in pleasure, his tatted hands cupping your breasts softly. His mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue tracing shapes. “You don't even miss a nigga, baby?” he mumbled against your dark brown skin.

The moonlight peeked through the curtains, showing off his dick going in and out of your perfectly, “F-fuck, maybe..” cutting yourself with a moan.

“That’s not what your pussy is saying, you hear that?” He growled, referring to the skin-to-skin slapping in the room. His finger rubbed your clit in circles, driving you wild.

You nodded eagerly, gasping at his thrusts once they turned jagged to deliberate, knots tightened in your stomach. “Yes, your dick is so good.” His lips trailing kisses on your neck and left hickeys on your skin. “Yesss..ah shit, right there,”

Hitting that sweet spot right on cue, you whimpered lowly and wrapped your arms for dear life, “I-cumming!” you announced, eyes rolling back.

“Let it out, baby,” he soothed in your ear, his finger rubbing your clit in circles.

Your essence spewed onto his dick completely, he moaned deeply at the feeling of you, your walls clenching around him like it was all his, he pulled out of you and his tip spewed cum on your rug.

“You’re…cleaning…that..shit up,” you panted heavily, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckled but did as you told him, pulling up his boxers and pants, making sure to get you a warm washcloth, he wanted to clean you up, and Kelvin cleaned the mess using a towel that he got from the bathroom.

He crouched in front of you, his hands gentle as he wiped the remnants of your shared moment. Picking you up in his arms and carrying you into the spacious bathroom, running your bath.

He sat down across from you, he scooted closer to you, his forehead pressed against yours, kissing your lips, “I love you,” he confessed softly.

“I love you more, Kel,”

You didn't have to hesitate with Kelvin, he made everything better. You had everything in the palm of your hand, fortune, updated status in society as a queen, and power.

That didn't matter to you as long as you were with Kelvin, your king, your best friend and now husband. You washed everything away as he helped wash your back, he kissed your shoulder.

There was an undeniable chemistry simmering between both of you, one that made your skin tingle and your heart race.

—————

[ourhees]

OPERATION : DON’T FALL IN LOVE

𝒊𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗗 .. ❛ 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ detective! pjs x detective f! reader── && e2l + slow burn slight angst ❔ 𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖯 & 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖲

◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ ╱ 𝑠𝑎𝑣 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠 : the other night i could not stop thinking about detective jay. ty to mil for motivating me to do this😽

the case was an absolute disaster, and jay was already getting frustrated. the chief’s 17 year old daughter, lilia had been missing for over seven hours at this point. you and jay sat together, trying to collect as much information about that night as you can.

“are you even paying attention?” jay snaps, slamming his palm onto the desk in between you two.

you didn’t bother flinching. “of course i am, genius. you’re the one obsessing over dead ends while im actually trying to piece things together.”

jay groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. he had no idea why the chief would even pair the two of you together to work on this case. sure, you were a great detective, but there were other things you weren’t good at, and that was handling the attitude of detective park jongseong.

“obsessing ? i’m trying to find leads here. not scribble on post it notes.” he shot back, pointing to the noodled sticky note.

you rolled your eyes, handing him a piece of paper. “look at this genius. lilia’s last known location. she was downtown at 11:45pm on the surveillance cameras.” you pointed on the map, leaning closer than you should have, your shoulder’s brushed together.

jay froze for a moment, before shaking his head. “right.. so what were you thinking?”

“that someone was waiting for her around the corner, where the camera’s stop rolling.”

“she wouldn’t run off with someone … would she?” jay tried to argue.

“maybe she would, but maybe she disagreed. they stalked her, and kidnapped her at the right moment. a moment where she’s vulnerable and her guard is down. like walking downtown past her curfew.”

you reviewed the printed out conversations you got from lilia’s phone, which was found at the scene in the chipped sidewalk. her chats with an older man suggested he wanted to meet while she was out at a party downtown with some friends, lilia still being a minor disagreed. the mysterious man continued to push her to meet with him, since he was in the neighborhood.

lilia disagreed once more. around 11:45pm, that was the last time lilia was caught on the cameras. maybe, just maybe if you examined the area one last time, and asked around, maybe you’d find a piece of evidence.

“so that’s what you think happened? she was out with her friends and this guy snatched her in an area that didn’t have cameras?” jay asked, one last time.

you nodded, referring back to the paper pieces of evidence. “fine” jay muttered. “let’s go back downtown and ask around.”

later that night, you and jay found yourselves downtown, the same area lilia was last seen. you asked the meat market owner, who claims he didn’t see much. you asked the ladies who owned the hair salon, they knew lilia since she was a baby. she hadn’t seen much, just the car that drove off.

the hair salon owner was able to give you a full description of the car that drove off. it was a black acura, silver details. you also managed to get the license plate number, that was all you needed.

you and jay headed back to the station, where you put the license plate number into your computer. jay sat closely to you, as he examined the suspect. it was a 35 year old man. this man had been arrested for robbing the jewelry store downtown, so downtown wasn’t an unfamiliar place for him.

“this bastard..” jay muttered, leaning in slightly closer. “can you locate the car? we need to locate the car.”

“slow your roll, speedy. i can locate the car.” you laughed, switching to a different screen.

you were able to locate the car, finding it sitting outside of an abandon warehouse. you and jay got into your car, loading your guns into the holster. you drove off to the abandon warehouse. it was quiet, awfully quiet. you and jay held your guns up, jay shouted “hello? anyone here.”

and that’s when you heard a scream. you and jay both ran into the direction the screen originated from. you kicked the door open, a sight horrifying to see. the young girl, the chiefs daughter, held at knife point. the older man gripping onto her with her life.

“drop the knife now!” you yell out, your gun steady in one hand.

suddenly the older man dropped the knife, his hands up to surrender. “jay, cuff him now.” jay does as he’s told, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and placing them on the old man. the victim runs close to you, hugging you tightly as you just saved her life.

“shh it’s okay..” you tried to calm down her cries, you rubbed her back gently. “it’s okay.. we’re here now, and we’re gonna return you to your dad. we just need you to answer a few questions and tell us the story. is that okay?”

lilia agreed, pulling back from the hug. jay managed to get the police over as soon as possible, they took away the old man in cuffs. jay pulled out his miniature note pad and began writing away every detail lilia dropped.

you were right, the older man reached out to lilia, trying to meet up. lilia continued to get messages throughout the night and she was afraid. so afraid, she decided to leave her crowd of friends and go back home. as she turned by the corner, she was grabbed and tossed into the car. if she wasn’t rescued in time, who knows what would’ve happened.

jay gasped, as he heard every inch of detail, being accurate to your prediction. after gathering lilia’s side of the story, you decided to take her back to her father at the office. the car ride back to the office was silent, nor you or jay spoke, all you heard was the silent sniffles of lilia.

as you returned back to the office, you got lilia back to her dad. the chief was extremely happy to see his daughter, still alive and very much untouched. you left them alone in the office, you and jay went back over to your desks.

“that was great.. you were great.” jay admitted, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“did the detective park jongseong just compliment me?” you teased, placing the evidence into a folder.

“don’t get used to it.” jay smirked.

you stepped closer, your heart racing due to the events of tonight. “you’re insufferable, you know that right?”

“and yet.. you can’t seem to stay away.” jay shot back, his grin fading slightly as your proximity began to feel charged.

before either of you could second—guess it, you grabbed him by the collar of his white shirt, pulling him down to your level and crashing your lips onto his. the kiss was fiery, a combination of tension and frustration, that had been built up from earlier.

jay froze for a second before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him. his strong hands held into your waist, holding you with a grip. when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless.

“that was…” he started to speak, his voice hoarse.

“shut up.” you interrupted, stepping back as reality sets back in. “that didn’t mean anything.”

jay laughed, running a hand through his hair. “sure, it didn’t. how about we go out for coffee one day?”

“sure.. genius.” you smile, wiping the smudge of red lipstick from the side of jay’s lips.

[sugarikiz]

— 𝑖𝑖. TOO LATE TO SAY SORRY

𝑖n which . . . your boyfriend messed up really bad , and he has to make up with you somehow.

─── ♡ 𝓅airing . . . bf! heeseung x 𝑓. reader >< 𝓌arnings . . . angst + est. relationship + crying + kissing . 𝓌c 0.63k .

✦

注記 ─── happy first hee fic !! first time writing for him, and it just had to be angst…

NOT PROOFREAD, SORRY FOR ANY ERRORS

lee heeseung; the love of your life. the constant back hugs and the never-relenting compliments all felt like a dream to you. the way he loved you was so much more special other person ever had before, and you felt so happy that you found someone like him in your life.

today, the constant bickering and tension you had between the two of you was different than any kind of disagreement you had ever had. it slowly escalated, both of your tempers rising till your known to be sweet boyfriend lashed out on you.

“you never do anything right, you act like a little child and you never actually try to see how i feel!”

the second those words left heeseung’s mouth, you felt your world shatter. is that really how he felt after all these years of being together?

the moment the man realised what he said, he instantly started regretting it, beating himself up inside. you could have seen the guilt seep into his eyes if you tried, but the way your vision hazed up didn’t let you.

“baby, I-” you shook your head, stopping him from speaking any more. after a few moments of collecting yourself — tears still visible in the corners of your eyes and on the apples of your cheeks — you spoke.

“don’t. don’t apologise for saying what you mean, heeseung.” heeseung? this was the first time in years you ever called him that; it was always ‘hee’ or ‘seungie’ or ‘baby’ or something of the sorts.

never in his two years of dating you had you called him that, so when it fell off your lips, he knew he’d messed up. big time.

you turned on your heel, walking away into your shared bedroom. he could hear the faint click of a lock and small sobs from the other side, but he knew that he couldn’t get you to talk to him, or even get you to open the door before you calmed down a bit.

── .✦

after about a half hour, he couldn’t take it anymore. he had to at least try to get you to unlock the door.

“y/n?” he knocked softly on the door, his tone soft; knowing how sensitive you could be to words. he knew he made a mistake by saying what he did, and he wanted you to know that too.

he heard a small sniffle come from the other end of the door, and sounds of shuffling footsteps. he breathed out a small sigh of relief when he heard your voice, but not so much at your words “what do you want?” you ask, your tone hurt.

he let out a small sigh, preparing himself for what he was about to say. “look, baby, im so sorry for what I said. I didn’t know what I was saying in my frustration, and i took it out on you.” he looked up when he heard the lock click and the door swing open slightly.

you could hear the guilt and remorse for what he said in his voice, and it melted you. it was taking all you had in you not to just kiss the pout off his lips, but you tried to hold onto your urges for a moment.

“you know you hurt me, right?”

he nodded, finally daring to meet your gaze. that was it, that was your breaking point. the way his bambi eyes were a bit bigger and the way his lips contracted into a small pout we’re just too cute for you to not kiss him then and there.

you pulled him towards you by wrapping your arms around his neck and crashed your lips onto his, all your anger and resentment towards him gone in a matter of seconds.

he was a bit taken aback, but still melted into the kiss quickly, kissing you back with the same passion you gave him.

he pulled away after a moment, a smirk forming on his lips. “still mad?”

“hmm, I think one more kiss should do the trick” you giggled, pulling him in again…