#THROWING this out into the world and running the fuck away

[dwaekkicidal]

thinking about idol!skz making their cute little stay sign an NDA

wc» 4k (APPARENTLY???)

cw» fem & STAY!reader, orgy (9), multiple rounds for reader but all of skz goes once each, both mean & soft dom skz, fingering/finger fucking, recording with a phone, 1 protected & 2 unprotected p in v, oral (f briefly & m fully receiving), face fucking, facial, light cum play?

an» i reread this like 10 times but i still hate it idk why lol, but anyways pls note that im using their STAGE names, this is really unrealistic imo but im indulging for once in my writing career bc im a weak, weak woman

shes so excited and has the biggest smile on her face, despite the fact that she knows there's mostly dirty stuff in the agreement. their manager stands nearby in the conference room, watching over every move from everyone. 'just in case'

and little does she know that the second she's done signing, they agreed to show her just why they're known for being one of, if not THE rowdiest idol group ever.

and then that sweet little smile pops up again and she pushes the signed form towards their manager. they wait patiently for a confirmation before even making the tiniest move. once they witness a nod and a bow in farewell from their manager, they smile to themselves.

lee know is the first to pounce, not even giving their manager time to walk out of the room.

the manager throws a plastic bag onto the middle of the conference table and heads to the door with some comments to the boys, and she watches as something thumps as the bag falls over and she faintly sees the shiny, square wrapper of something peeking out

lee know gives her a sickeningly sweet smile and helps her to her feet. she's confused as to why but doesn't exactly question it. she just assumes they're going to another room. and, well, it's not like she has the chance to really question anything.

not when her whole world spins and her cheek aches from the way shes all but slammed onto the conference table. and sure as hell not when her short, thin sundress is pulled up and bunched around her waist. and he wastes no time either!! it's like he's been waiting for that stupid piece of paper to get signed.

he knows it's all for the group's safety and that it was necessary for a "situation like this" or whatever crap his manager said. but that won't stop him from making you pay for it.

he's ruthless as he finger fucks you into oblivion right off the bat, leaving little comments here and there as his free hand digs into your neck, holding you down against the flat surface.

he curls both fingers directly into your g-spot and your orgasm takes you by surprise. you had no chance to warn him- or any of them- before you moan loudly and gush around his fingers. your legs kick up behind you in overstimulation, but he still doesn't let up right away. only once he remembers his other members are still there, he finally slides them out of you.

he's quick to get a taste and shoves his fingers past his lips, licking them clean as you attempt to catch your breath. you manage to shake off some of the surprise just in time for the sound of a chair scraping against the floor meeting your ears.

then you feel hands on your hips and youre spinning again. this time though, you're folded into a chair. lee know holds you against him and pulls your legs up to your chest, letting you sink down just the slightest bit and causing your head to rest against his pecs.

you're not sure what to expect until you notice i.n hovering over you. he runs the back of his fingers against your folds and laughs at the way your legs twitch from sensitivity. then he uses his free hand to stroke up and down your thigh before settling by your ass and using his thumb to spread you open.

he sits there for a moment and just takes in the sight of you just barely glistening and makes a noise of delight, as if he were eating his favorite meal.

he runs his fingers through your folds again, this time with more pressure, and teasingly dips the first few centimeters of his fingers into your hole before popping it back out and tracing little circles around your clit

eventually, amidst your whines and little hole twitches, he indulges you and sinks two of those long fingers into your walls. your legs twitch against lee know's hold and the elder squeezes your legs tighter before making some crude comment in your ear that you can't completely pick up behind the squelching of your pussy </3

i.n smiles to himself and moves his fingers roughly right off the bat. his fingertips dig meanly into your g-spot and you cry out loudly. your eyes focus on the maknae above you, taking in the crazy look in his eyes as he coos down at you in mockery of your whines.

and thanks to that, you miss the way a phone gets set up right where you just signed your life away. it's almost comedic the way they use the same tripod they use in their lives. but, again, you completely miss it.

and nobody can really blame you because the first orgasm that gets caught on the camera, literally seconds after the recording started, was enough to make your legs snap out of lee know's grasp.

i.n laughs and slows his fingers, letting you ride out that high for a moment and waiting for your legs to unclasp to pull his fingers out completely.

you think you understand now, and maybe it's onto the next, but that's not happening. not when this spoiled little brat doesn't move away from you. a few people even stand to claim their turn but, much to their dismay, i.n only sits in the same spot. in fact, he runs his fingers through your folds again, ready for a round 2- or... 3, i guess you could say.

and who are they to deny their little brother! after all, they are the ones who made him so spoiled in the first place. if they let him walk all over them without any punishment, you can't imagine the things he has planned for you.

a cry is ripped through your throat as his fingers dive in again at the same time that lee know hooks your legs over his, spreading you nice and wide for the room. the fingers just as mean as before and you can see his arms flexing as he tries to find another, deeper angle. one that he finds rather easily thanks to the telltale shivers from your body.

though, he's not really given much time to play with it as you cum again suddenly. you gasp loudly and he can tell it caught you off guard too, so he laughs and helps lee know hold your legs down and apart as he finger fucks you through this orgasm. he pulled his fingers out at the perfect time, right before it had actually became too much.

buuut, like stated earlier, they are the rowdiest group around. so did you actually think you would get a second to breathe? lol. maybe with one of the others, yes. but seungmin? yeah.... no. he actually pushes i.n out of the way, to the point where the youngest almost falls on the floor.

he then lands a brisk slap to your folds and wastes no time in shoving his fingers in, 3 of them to be exact. your eyes roll into the back of your head and one of your hands desperately digs your nails into his arm. he responds by pushing it away and landing another slap to your folds.

lee know laughs from behind you and hooks his forearm under your knee, hugging that leg to your chest and using his other hand to grip your wrist tightly. seungmin takes the chance and uses his free hand to push your other leg away, spreading you open while also pinning it up and away from you. the action makes you fall back against lee knows chest again.

his fingers are somehow rougher than the other 2 before him. you thought i.n was bad, but seungmin shows you no mercy. he even puts on a show for the others and leans down, sinking his teeth into the fat of your thigh thats just under lee know's arm

the action makes you whimper and clench around his fingers, taking him by surprise. he tests the waters and bites again, but harder. you clench yet again and the boys watch as your eyes roll to the back of your head

your mind is becoming foggy as you are forced to take everything the second youngest gives. and when you finally come for the 4th time, he pushes it even further and lands a sudden smack to your ass.

he pulls away slightly, his fingers drawing sticky shapes into your folds as mumbled chatter is heard. lee know pushes you to your feet and helps you stand up as a set of steps are walking towards you.

felix takes lee know's seat on the chair and pulls you onto his lap. you feel his hands on your hips, dragging your cunt back and forth along his cock, before you notice the man in front of you. han smiles sweetly, but when you blink you catch on to the menacing message behind it. even more so when he drops to his knees, eyes never leaving yours, and licks a long, slow stripe up your thigh.

felix giggles to himself when you shiver at the feeling and digs his fingers into your hips. he lifts you just enough for han to slide his cock inside of you. then he drops you down suddenly and hugs you to his chest.

you cry out at the suddenness and the room erupts in husky chuckles, some of them pulling their cocks out to jerk off at the sight of you getting broken in by their sunshine.

you get manhandled a little further, specifically felix positioning you so that he can fuck into you while giving han some space to work with. once they find the position that works, the pair give you no time to think.

han latches onto your clit immediately, sucking harshly and running his tongue in messy shapes against it. felix groans into your ear from the way you clench around him, but he uses it as motivation to start fucking into you.

the two hover you slightly above felix and give him space to start lifting his hips slowly- trying to find a rhythm that works for the awkward position. once he finds it, he digs his hands into your waist and starts fucking you harder, his tip hitting an angle similar to the one i.n had found earlier

your moan gets caught in your throat and you feel han smile against your mound at the sound. felix reads you like a book and fucks his hips in the same position, making sure to roll his hips slowly once he was sure that he found the right spot.

han nips at your clit softly one final time before standing to his feet again. he backs up and unbuckles his belt, never breaking eye contact with you, and smirks when he pulls his cock out.

the two move almost in sync and you're helped back onto your feet only to get pushed forward and shoved towards han's length. they hastily spit roast you and fuck you like there's no tomorrow- han's hand fisting your hair while the other holds both your wrists up and out of the way for felix, who squeezes your ass firmly before landing a playful smack to your thigh.

they take turns pushing you back onto the other, seesawing you like it's some sort of game until felix slows suddenly and finishes inside the condom you hadnt even realized he put on. he pulls away with no warning once he's done and you drop to your knees at the loss of your main support system.

han laughs and slaps his tip along your lips, then against your tongue when you poke it out obediently.

somebody on your side whistles at the sight and you feel your cheeks burn, only for it to fade once two hands rest on either cheek and use that grip as leverage to start fucking your throat.

its so sloppy, but thankfully isnt as rough as you'd have expected. he still fucks your throat roughly, but it's just enough for you to be able to look up at him under your lashes and run your tongue along his underside.

he groans and bites his lip at the feeling, eyes rolling until theyre closed as a drunk smile breaks out on his face. 'dirty girl.'

once han has you swallow his release, he crouches down in front of you and gives you a sweet peck on your cheek alongside a soft massage to your hips. he throws in a comment about how good you've been so far, only to get interrupted by one of the older boys.

but he can't really blame hyunjin for being impatient for his turn. i.n got two turns against everybody else's will so he's a little cranky that they're behind schedule.

he stalks towards you, a smirk painting his face as he helps you to your feet. hyunjin giggles as he pulls you into him and you stumble from your shaky legs. his pillowy lips push against your neck and you melt at the feeling, closing your eyes momentarily and forgetting about the other men surrounding you.

its short-lived, though, and hyunjin quickly releases your neck to spin you around and help you jump onto the table. his hand sneaks into the base of your head, grabbing onto what hair he can manage in a few seconds, and tugs your neck backward.

while he does that, his other arm wraps around your waist and holds you against his chest, making sure that you dont go anywhere.

he holds your head in a way that forces you to keep eye contact, and for a moment you’re confused as to why. but then he empties your head the second the thought comes to mind thanks to the way his cock slides through your folds

it makes your jaw drop and he mocks your expression, smiling at the end of it when you whine in embarrassment. he's so long. cock tearing up your insides already and he's not even started fucking you yet.

he starts off strong, his balls smack against your ass and the hand in your hair tightens, using the hold as leverage to hold you still so he can fuck into you even harder.

the hand on your back moves to your thigh, pushing one of them up and out of the way to give him more space to fuck you deeper. between your tightness nearly suffocating his cock and watching so much build-up, hyunjin already feels like his orgasm is close by.

and he’d be completely right, especially when your cunt makes so much of those gooey goodness noises and you leak around him like a faucet.

the hand in your hair tugs and angles you to the side. once he’s happy with the skin he can see, he leans forward and bites down on your collarbone. he leaves a few marks there before his hand releases your neck in favor of yanking your sundress over your tits. he would have half the mind to just take it off, but with his orgasm so close, he has something else on his mind.

he kisses your boob once and then kisses your nipple, he stays there just a moment before biting down on it softly and sucking harshly. your nipples were so sensitive from not being touched at all and it triggers your next orgasm. he rides it out by continuing to eagerly fuck into you and chase his own orgasm.

he finds it after leaving a few bite marks against your collarbone and groans into your ear as he fucks you through it, his hips stuttering each time you feel a warmth filling you.

he pulls away after some time passes and pulls out slowly, eyes glued to the sight of your cunt leaking his cum. he smiles and continues to stare at it for a moment, even going as far as to tease his tip through your folds and draw shapes into your clit with his messy tip. he dips it back in your hole one last time to get a reaction out of you before he’s pulled away by a hand on his shoulder.

your pussy is behind puffy at this point, but what do they care? this is what you agreed to, after all. and as much as changbin wants to feel bad for you, his cock aches so badly from something that only you and that pretty pussy of yours could fix.

he drags you off the table by your hips and flips you around, pushing you down against the table forcefully exactly like lee know did earlier. the only difference is this time, changbin shoves his cock in you all at once.

the sheer thickness of it makes you choke on your spit and dig your nails into the table. you push up to try and get a second to breathe, but he wraps his hand around your neck from behind and pulls you flat against his chest.

he mumbles something into your ear about how you need to stop running away from him, and how you need to take it or else he’ll give it to you 10 times harder.

and at first you listen perfectly! your body shakes and moves a little too much for his liking, but you obey rather nicely as he fucks you thoroughly.

you listen just fine until he lifts your hips just the slightest bit and a second pair of hands slides a folded-up sweater under your stomach, giving him a new, much better angle to ram into.

thats when you start to push back against him and disobey him.

he rolls his eyes and slams his hand against your ass, making you twitch farther away from him. he huffs under his breath and pulls you all the way onto his cock by your shoulders.

it makes him bottom out and your legs shake when he sits still, making you feel every last inch of him and every last throbbing vein along his length.

you clench around him unintentionally and it makes him loosen his hold on you, giving you some leeway to try wiggling away again. but he’s not gonna have any of that!! you’re supposed to be good.

so he drags his hands down your shoulders and down your arms until he gets to your wrists. once he wraps his hands around them, he pulls you up and forcefully arches your back as he holds your arms back near his stomach.

the new position gives him enough leverage to fuck you deeply while simultaneously preventing you from getting away from him, and with his rough eagerness, it's not a surprise that the both of you cum in the next few minutes.

he bottoms out one last time as he releases into you, emptying what feels like actual buckets into you and taking well over 15 seconds until his balls are done draining into you.

the feeling of being overfilled from multiple loads, one of which felt like gallons worth, and being bullied by his thick cock made your legs finally give out. changbin pulls out of you all of a sudden and neither of you has much time to react before your legs wobble and you fall to your knees.

he catches you as your knees hit the floor and he laughs to himself when you try to use the table to stand up, only to stumble again.

instead of helping you up, he grins smugly and watches as your legs tremble from your spot on the floor. even once he’s done, he still doesn’t help you up. he just backs away and leaves you to screw your head back on.

you really felt like you were finished, your brain was so fogged that you genuinely lost count of how many of them had brought you to an orgasm. not to mention you had no idea how many orgasms you even had.

but thankfully, it technically was the last- at least for your cunt (for now).

bang chan clears his throat to catch your attention and smiles sweetly at you from across the room when your eyes meet. he doesn’t move more than an inch, only tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrow at you in a way that makes you ache with need.

his eyes glance to his feet before returning to your face and you take a moment to process what he wants, your brain still foggy from the onslaught of orgasms you had to suddenly endure, but it clicks fast enough for him to smile even wider when you begin crawling over to him.

your face burns in embarrassment from the others watching, but chan’s thumb stroking your cheek once you settle between his thighs makes it worth every second.

“i’ll be the nice one and give you a break.” a few sounds of disapproval come from behind you, but inevitably die down when he glances towards them. he teases his thumb along your bottom lip and continues.

“that being said…” the thumb on his other hand pushes down on his cock through his pants before dipping under his hem. “i still deserve a turn, don’t ya think?” he pulls his pants and boxers down before you can say anything and you find yourself drooling at the sight of him. “i had to sit here and watch my boys break you in. it’s only fair”

he slaps his tip against your cheek a few times, laughing to himself at the action, then pushes himself past your lips. he groans quietly with a smile painting his face as you take him deeper on your own- all the way until you feel him in the back of your throat.

his hand pushes down against your head, making you deepthroat him. he revels in the feeling for a moment before loosening the pressure and helping you pull off.

he easily falls into a rhythm like this, lifting and pushing your head onto himself. his groans were enough to get you to push your legs together, the ache between your legs somehow coming back as you pleasure the “head of the house.” between his praises and pet names, you only felt more eager to suck him harder and cause his orgasm.

you completely forget everything around you until i.n. walks into your peripheral vision with a phone on a small tripod in his hand. your eyes snap to him, staring at the smile that's partially hidden behind the phone, before staring directly into the camera lens.

you can tell it affects him from the way his smile falters and he takes his lips between his teeth.

“eyes on me.”

your eyes immediately snap back to chan and you circle your tongue around his tip in apology. he smirks and furrows his eyebrows when your tongue traces the most prominent vein on him, a more sensitive spot for him.

he already felt close enough from that, but when you pull off him momentarily and stroke him so that you can run your tongue between his base and his balls, he completely loses it.

ropes of cum paint your face and you have to close your eyes to prevent any injury, and chan only groans louder at the sight, seemingly cumming even more from unintentionally painting your face.

once he’s finished and only your eyes are cleaned off, i.n walks up to you and grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your neck back to present your dirty face to the phone that was still recording.

somebody reaches from behind you and gathers some of chan's release on their finger only to shove it past your lips. you hum and the taste and shut your eyes in satisfaction.

all 3 men laugh and hyunjin speaks up as the mystery man, squeezing your cheeks together: "say cheese~"

they know they found the perfect toy when you smile drunkly into the lens <3

“now that that's out of our system... let’s go to a different room and talk more specific details through. this room reeks of cum-”

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[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. kim mingyu x reader ⇢ summary. snapshots from your kitchen over the years -- with mingyu. ⇢ genre. fluff, strangers2friends2lovers ⇢ warnings. wc is approx. 1.6k; alcohol consumption; each section is set one year after the previous; gn!reader.

march 8th, 2021

“There you are! Hi!” You call out as you sail past the tall figure standing in your kitchen. You move quickly between the oven, the fridge, the microwave, the work surface, your eyes flitting back to him as you talk. “Mingyu, right? I’m sorry, I know this is our first time meeting but everything’s — ”

“A mess,” Seungkwan offers helpfully from behind Mingyu. Which reminds him that the world keeps spinning, even if he does fall in love the very first time he meets his friends’ friend. Everyone talked about you, but yo'd never crossed paths with him — until now. In the middle of your kitchen, with butterflies swarming his stomach.

You click your tongue and point at Seungkwan with one hand, balancing a bowl of salad with the other. “Exactly. Put this on the table, Kwan.” 

As Seungkwan takes it from you, Mingyu stands awkwardly by the door, following your movements with his eyes, until you suddenly halt in the middle of the kitchen, throwing your hands up. “Okay. Done.” You meet his eyes with a breathless smile, and suddenly he’s breathless too, without even moving an inch. “Sorry,” you say unrepentantly. “I’m ___. But hopefully you know that already, and you didn’t just agree to come to a stranger’s house.”

Mingyu’s too dumbfounded to reply quickly, completely and utterly taken in. Bewitched, almost, staring at your open, cheerful face. “Hi,” he manages at last, and then rubs his nose awkwardly. “You have a little…”

Unfazed, you rub at your nose and examine your fingers. “Flour,” you nod, “from the — fuck, from the cookies!”

You whip round to the oven; simultaneously, the doorbell rings, and you cast an apologetic look over your shoulder, nodding to the front door. “I’m so sorry, do you mind?”

Not at all, Mingyu’s mind supplies. He’s pretty sure he’d run seven miles without stopping if you asked him to right now, but that’s neither here nor there. When he opens the door, it’s Jeonghan and Seungcheol, who both take one look at his dazed self — Seungcheol sighs, and Jeonghan laughs.

“You owe me a twenty,” Jeonghan says to Seungcheol, and lets himself in, calling out to you in the kitchen. 

Seungcheol claps a still-stupefied Mingyu on the back with a sympathetic grimace. “We all saw it coming.”

august 4th, 2022

“There you are!” you call, as Mingyu returns from the bathroom. “I’ve been thinking. You know what I’ve been thinking?” You’re veering out of tipsy territory, heading straight for drunk — Mingyu knows because you’re starting to slur your words, tilting one into the next as you slap your palm emphatically from where you’re sitting, cross-legged on the work surface of your kitchen. 

He, on the other hand, is barely even buzzed. Slightly amused, very much fond, he leans against the counter opposite you and sips his drink. “Enlighten me, wise one.”

You stick a profound finger into the air, and with an air of sagacious intelligence — “Men aren’t shit.” 

Mingyu almost snorts into his drink, but manages to catch himself at the last minute. After all, he already knew why he was here; you were mourning your dating life after dumping your recent match on whichever dating app; it wasn’t anything too serious, but as your friend — maybe even best friend — he knew you’d been hopeful. And so you’d called him up to, quote unquote, drink away your sorrows. 

He’d come, of course. Mingyu always came when you called.

“Men aren’t shit,” he repeats now, with an obedient nod, and raises his glass. 

Your head tilts to the side and you bestow a wide smile on him; he mirrors it automatically, even if he doesn’t know what it’s for.

“Not you, though,” you say, without your previous bluster. “Every rule has an exception, right?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to brush over it. He always finds himself doing that when you compliment him, skimming past it because he knows you mean it, but not in the way he wants you to mean it. “Don’t worry about it too much,” he adds consolingly, circling back to the guy you were seeing. Jaehee or Jaehyun or whatever. “He’s not worth your stress, alright?”

Your buoyant mood has simmered down a little, and you stare thoughtfully at a spot by his ear. “Mm. I guess so.”

“I know so.” Mingyu inclines his head to the side to catch your gaze, and with a start, he realises your eyes are welling up. “Hey! Hey, don’t cry!” He crosses the room in a second, wrapping you into a hug — you’re still sitting on the counter, but you drop your head onto his shoulder with a weak little sniffle.

Bringing a hand up to cradle your head, Mingyu hushes you quietly. “Don’t cry over him. He’s not worth it, you know that.”

“It’s not him,” you say tearfully, hiccuping into his shirt. “I just — I really want to be in love, Mingyu. I want someone to love me.”

Mingyu has to fight the urge to scream. Because he wants to scream, wants to make you hear how loudly he’s been loving you since he met you, wants to make you see that he’s right here. But he can’t do that to you right now. The timing isn't right, and he knows it’s not.

So he’ll wait. However long it takes.

september 24th, 2023

“There you are,” Mingyu says to the back of your figure, after letting himself into your apartment. The spare key was technically only for emergencies, but he rang the bell twice before figuring you were in the shower, and the snacks he brought were too heavy to hold on to for much longer. “I rang and you didn’t answer!”

You whip round like a gunshot, looking startled — as if you didn’t invite him over this very morning. “You’re here!”

“I rang twice,” he repeats, with furrowed brows. “What?” he says, self-consciously. “I know the key was only for emergencies, but my hands were falling off!” 

It’s like you only realise now that he’s loaded with two grocery bags. “Oh,” you say, voice small. “What are those?”

“Snacks. For the movie?” Your face remains blank, and Mingyu’s more confused than ever. “I got your favourites, don’t worry.”

“I didn’t ask you to bring snacks.” Your voice isn’t accusative, exactly — it wavers a little, bordering on touched. Which only confuses Mingyu more, because it’s just snacks.

Foregoing his questions, he moves to dump the bags on the counter — but you mirror his movements, sidestepping so awkwardly that he knows something’s off.

“What are you hiding?” He’s on you instantly, because your eyes always betray you.

And if they didn’t, your voice would. “Nothing!” Pitched a little too high, spoken a little too fast.

 “Behind you, what’s that?” Mingyu almost makes a dive for it, but you snatch it up before he can. “Flowers,” he realises aloud, heart sinking a little as he tries to force nonchalance into his tone. “They’re pretty.” (They’re his favourite too, which only rubs salt in the wound.) “Who got them for you?”

“I got them.” Your voice is still doing that squeaky, nervous thing, but Mingyu feels a sudden rush of relief that he tries his hardest to disguise at your words. 

He hums, feigning normalcy, and starts unloading the snacks. “This one’s limited edition,” he says, holding up a Pocky packet. “It looks kind of — whoa!”

His sentence is cut off when you thrust the bouquet under his nose. “For you,” you say quickly. I got them for you.”

Just like he was in this very kitchen two years ago, Mingyu’s breathless. He takes them on autopilot — everything’s on autopilot, even his bewildered, “What?”

“Turn around,” you say with beseeching eyes. “I’m too scared to say it to your face.”

“Say what?”

“Turn around!”

He turns around, and he waits. He can feel the nerves radiating off you. He hears you shift your weight from one foot to the other. He swears he even hears you swallow thickly. Louder than all of that, he looks at his favourite flowers and hears himself start to hope.

And then, cutting through all the noise — “I love you, Kim Mingyu.”

december 22nd, 2024

“There you are,” you say sleepily, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. You’d taken an impromptu nap on Mingyu’s lap while he was gaming in your room, but when his stomach had started rumbling, he’d carefully draped a blanket over your shoulders and edged his way out to start on dinner.

“Here I am,” Mingyu says, smiling at you from the stove. He lifts the spoon and beckons you closer, feeding you the soup. “How is it?”

Rubbing one eye, you speak through a yawn. “‘S good.” You slide your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face into his back. Your words come out muffled. “Maybe a little more salt. Why’d you leave me?”

Mingyu can’t help the smile stretching over his face. “Leave you?”

“I woke up alone,” you say sulkily, but you don’t let go of him, even as he shuffles from cupboard to cupboard.

“I thought you’d be hungry when you woke up,” he murmurs, adding a pinch of salt and stirring. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Very hungry.” He lifts the spoon for you to taste it again, and you let out a satisfied sigh. “You’re forgiven,” you declare, kissing his cheek. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mingyu lowers his free hand to squeeze yours, interlocked over his stomach, before turning you in his arms to face you properly. He smiles when he finds your eyes, finally, cupping your warm face in his warm hands. “Ah,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your lips. “There you are.”

author's note! since it's my birthday -- it's like a gift of appreciation! thank you all for being here. i know i don't usually make banners for drabbles, but this picture is what sparked the idea in the first place. and it was fun! i might do it again. (<- has already done it for the v-day drabble.)

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@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[diushek]

The Shen Yuan that dies - really dies. He actually dies and doesn't transmigrate, but well, you know, death is a timeless thing and the flow of time itself in the world of the dead is so weird lol So, well, let me make up that all the demons and ghost kings and cultivators inhabit this powerful timeless space where the dead also go, and oh, there's Shen Yuan now -

So, Shen Yuan is just a silly ghost fire filled with pent-up rage, damn shitty novel, damn shitty author. Is he “alive” for something? Because of how much he hates PIDW and its fucked up ending. Get a lower-ranking ghost body because he's just... angry at Airplane. His new form is, ah, well, different and weird, but he can grow his hair to go unnoticed, and can steal some robes.

Get a small job eventually just because he was bored and although he don't need to eat, it would be nice to have extra money - and the tea house owner doesn't care if he's a human or a ghost as long as he's not creepy with the customers and serves their tables. It's a routine that gives him the quick financial support to get bad books, complain more - and maybe he's getting stronger because of it? Because of his anger at mediocre authors and repressed anger? Does it even make sense?

At some point, Tonglu opens. Shen Yuan has headaches and the desperate feeling that he must go, as if he summoned. He tells his boss he's going to be out for ghostly reasons - his boss is like, oh, you needed a vacation anyway. And Shen Yuan goes.

It's a massacre, of course. A mix between the Hunger Games and the Purge, but Shen Yuan has something they definitely don't: a lot of knowledge in shooting video games. And he doesn't have a gun, but hey, he can shoot resentful spiritual energy and it works like bullets or something - he soon discovers that the more ghosts he overcomes, he becomes stronger. He has more power to throw, more skills, a stronger body.

Go to the kiln. Have bloody fights. At some point he gets a sword and it takes him forever and nothing like a training sequence to use it properly. And finally, the kiln opens and Shen Yuan comes out looking... Well, stronger.

He returns to the teahouse to change and take a bath. The owner tells him that it's been thirteen years, what the hell, but lets him in and gives him hot water and clothes.

Shen Yuan's new body and new abilities are strange to him. He notices himself taller. Stronger. His hearing and smell have improved. His abilities seem to be more wordy, as if he could persuade people if he spoke to them in a specific tone, as if his words could bind them. Well, it's not a bad way to be dead.

Shen Yuan tries to continue working at the tea house, but the humans are clearly terrified by the powerful ghost king aura in their area, so there are hardly any customers. Shen Yuan just sighs and decides to leave. He has some savings anyway.

Ghosts run away from him. Humans either try to kill him or hide. Shen Yuan is fed up; no matter if it is in the mortal world or the ghost world, people are gossiping about him and how he has not taken a Territory, about how unorthodox he is, about how they are waiting for him to start his killing spree one day.

Shen Yuan learns to change his appearance from creepy ghost to normal human, hide his resentful energy, and camouflage himself in the human world. It's a long way from his old tea house, and so many years have passed that the kind owner has probably already died, so Shen Yuan gets another job at a bookstore. Nothing unusual. Just a boy who was once from a wealthy family and was disinherited when his older brother took over the family leadership because of their bad relationship. Now he must work to live.

People swallow that story like a good meal, some even feel sorry for him.

And Shen Yuan is having a decent afterlife. Boring, mostly, but with good days. He reads a lot, gets angry a lot, writes authors letters that reach their desks without them even realizing how the hell did this crazy guy find his addresses. Let's just say he's having an interesting life.

Then one day, he meets Luo Binghe.

He... He literally knows that he's Binghe. It couldn't be anyone else but Luo Binghe. He does his investigations, and apparently, Emperor Luo Binghe exists, he has been there all along. It's not like Shen Yuan knew it; the ghost realm and the human-demon realm are divided, and even if they have a common mortal ancestor, demons and ghosts don't usually meddle in their own things.

Not that Shen Yuan wants to be cannon fodder anyway; he keeps his distance in Binghe, works at that bookstore, gives friendly greetings to his customers, and keeps sending angry letters to authors.

And one day Shen Yuan receives a direct visit from Luo Binghe at his door. With a letter in his hand.

"This letter was on my Second Wife's desk," Luo Binghe says, with a fake smile. "No one but her can open or read it, so this Lord wonders after discovering the resentful energy signature on the paper, what missives does this Ghost King exchange with one of the Emperor's wives?"

Shen Yuan is not surprised that Luo Binghe knows who he is - ever so OP the Protagonist! However, it is more difficult to explain that his wife actually writes cut-sleeved novels that the fact that Shen Yuan was reading and criticizing them in the first place.

Well, he's been dead for over a hundred years, really denying that he's at least bisexual at this point in his life...

[lyricsandlovexo]

𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓓𝓻𝓸𝓹! 𝓘’𝓶 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴! 💕

*part of the Bar Down series

+𝟷𝟾 -> 𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽 | 𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓾𝓷𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓹 𝓲𝓷 𝓿, 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 + 𝓹𝓮𝓽 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼

𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝔁 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

“Where's your patience, princess?” He whispers in your ear teasingly. The answer is that it was gone long before this moment, well before he had you backed into the elevator wall.

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you in, losing the battle he had with himself to hold back. Your bodyguard… He had barely been in your life, but you already knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

With you.

It was his job—to make you feel safe. He was paid to care. But in a world where everyone treats you like a product, he treats you like a person.

It had been a long day of shooting your music video—his trained eyes flickered with a want he couldn't hold back.

There was a moment where he let his need break through—a moment where he got you alone, away from everyone else. And it only made matters worse. It only made that need stronger.

His body’s hot like it’s burning from the inside out; his soft lips desperate and hungry. You kiss him back with the same desperation, fingers twisting into the shirt you wanted to rip off him all day.

He groans into your mouth, his deep rasp coursing through your veins, sending chills down your spine. You gasp against his lips as he lifts you into his strong arms. Your body aches as he ebbs and flows between gentle and rough, even in the midst of his own surrender.

You knit your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly, wanting to hear it again, but an even prettier sound flows from his lips to yours, a deep moan that has you reeling.

The doors dings open, but there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you that no matter what, you weren't letting go. It’s like you both need it for your own survival.

He separates for a moment, breathing heavily as he walks with you to his apartment—his forehead tips against yours as your lips brush ever so slightly.

Your heart swells, your breath hitching as he smiles along your lips, holding you close and keeping you like you were the most important thing in the world.

The key slides into the lock, messy and rushed, wanting his two hands back on you and fast. The world shut behind you, and everything falls away. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, slipping inside, rolling with yours.

It feels so unnatural when he sets you down, leaving you hungry for that same contact again. You smile as you realize there’ll be more of him to touch as the first piece of clothing tears away.

After that, it was one piece after another between messy kisses, littered on the floor like a trail all the way to the place where he had dreamed about you being for nights.

And just like he had been dreaming about, he throws you on the bed, crawling on top before rolling his body into yours, pulling right where he imagined you'd be.

He tows you on top of him, grabbing your hips, guiding you to grind your body into him. Your hands press against his chest, nails dragging down his skin, leaving little lines of red behind.

His pretty eyes roll back in his head, and between the scratch marks and the way your wet pussy was slick against his cock he could have sworn he could have cum right then and there.

“All for me? Fuck it’s all mine. Just fucking perfect for me…” He mumbles as he loosens his grip on your hips, just enough to slap your ass.

“All yours,” you breathe as you lean down, slipping your fingers between your thighs. And just like before, he didn't ask, snatching your wrist, taking those same fingers between his lips, tasting your pussy for the first time.

“Mmm… Fuck—” He groans, and before he can even finish the word, you’re on your back—his beautiful face buried between your thighs for more.

You throw your head back into his pillow, his rich cologne muddling your mind as your eyes go hazy, his tongue lapping at your clit; lips sucking, teeth grazing.

He’s listening, as he always does, your pleasured screams and cries guiding him. Not for the fact that he knows exactly what you need just yet… For the fact that he doesn't know if he can go without hearing that sound again.

The sweet sound of your pleasure. Your blissed-out whimpers and cries leave him desperate for relief, his cock rutting into the mattress.

Your fingers scratch into his hair, making him moan into your pussy; the vibrations coursing through your system, making your toes curl. And, just when you're about to lose control, his fingers push inside, making you fall to pieces.

He pulls his mouth away, needing to see it for himself, wanting to memorize the look on your face when you come undone—praising you, making sure you knew that it was going to happen again and again until the only name you knew was his…

Like it wasn't already the only thing on your mind.

“I need you…” You purr that understatement into his ear as your fingers wrap around his thick dick. “Please—”

“Fuck, princess… Yes. Fuck,” he moans like he can't believe those words are leaving your lips—the look in his yearning eyes is almost apologetic like he can't believe he made you plead for anything at all.

Your moans clash as his dick sinks in, bottoming you out, making you gasp and cling to his shoulders; with a stretch, his fingers couldn't prepare you for, not the way he fills you up so perfectly.

He feels it, too. His thick cock throbbing inside you—warm and wet, pulling him as your body starts to soften.

His skin slaps against yours, sticking with the wetness of your first climax as your body threatens to give way again. And just like before, he listens—hanging onto every whimper and cry that leaves your kiss-swollen lips, hitting that spot that has you screaming his name, pounding you into the mattress again and again so you’ll chant it like a prayer.

The sound that leaves your mouth is laced with that shit that has him spilling inside you, filling you so full that the sensation alone has you shuddering and whimpering for more.

And, even though his teeth are gritted, and his muscles are strained, he just can stop, rough finger pushing through your panting lips, tongue swirling around his digits, and he already feels his cock swelling again at the thought of you on your knees, with his dick weighted on your tongue.

He lowers his fingers, watching your lip pout with overstimulation, tears brimming in your eyes as he rubs your little figure eights on top while he strokes his load as deep as it can go.

And, just as you're about to swear you can't take anymore your damn breaks, pussy fluttering, eyes leaking tears that he brushes away.

He buries himself in you—sharing breath, kissing your skin, living in this moment with you that was better than any fantasy, far deeper than either of you could have imagined.

And for the first time in a long time, you truly feel safe.

Back…

[ourfinalisation]

⟶ the 4 times teen!satoru tried to break down the walls to your heart, and the 1 time he did.

cw:: fem!reader, not proofread due to lazy xP, reader dgaf, fluff/crack, 2.1k words, i can't write long works, mild blood/injury (nosebleed, broken ankle)

Satoru Gojo has no shortage of confidence. Quips that have men clapping him on the shoulder, flirts that have girls weak in the knees. He is a boy who exudes cockiness, but for some reason that he just can't understand, it all melts away in your presence, giving way to trembling hands and a red face.

You are several grades below him. Grade Three, specifically. And it's not like you're model pretty. Sure, his eyes are always fixed on your legs or your neck or your eyes or your lips or your hair, but he's definitely prettier, he's certain.

You're not even nice to him. A biting remark here, a blatant dismissal there, and he finds himself wailing into his pillow, a half-sympathetic Suguru watching on in mild pity.

“Just start small. Say you like her hair. Or her shoes,” he says, looking down at Satoru, who's sprawled out on his dorm room floor.

Satoru sniffles, lifting his head. “You really think it'll work?”

“Dunno. But it's worth a try.”

“I like your shoes, Y/N!”

You look up from your flip-phone in surprise. Paired together on a mission, the two of you had, up until now, been sitting in silence on a train. You follow his line of sight to your new converse, laced up tight. Perfectly clean and perfectly you.

“Thanks. My mom just sent them for me,” you mumble, looking the exact opposite way of him. God forbid he sees the way your cheeks tinge very slightly pink. You'd hate for him to know the effect even a passing compliment from him clearly has on you.

He grins in self-satisfaction. He knew it was a good idea to trust Suguru! And now, like clockwork, you'll be falling at his feet in three… two… one…

“There’s seaweed in your teeth.”

Stupid Suguru!

Satoru blushes furiously, turns the other way, and starts furiously sucking at his teeth to remove the offending plant. Suguru had pawned off his seaweed snack to him earlier, and now he has to reap the consequences. Another romantic failure, and this time it wasn’t even his fault.

Still red, eyes pricking with embarrassed tears, he looks back over at you. But, much to his dismay, you've returned your attention to your phone, tapping away.

He'll get ‘em next time.

”Holy shit, Gojo!”

But not this time, apparently.

His eyes widen as he sees you staggering back, and he jogs up to lean over you.

“You okay…?”

Stupid question. Because you look up at him, blood pouring from your nose, a devastating mixture of humiliation and resentment and raw pain glinting in your eyes, as you wipe your bloodied nose on your white shirt and drag your bloodied hand over your skirt.

“No, I’m not fucking okay! You always do this, stupid!” You throw one more scornful look over your shoulder, before marching back towards the school, blood still streaming down your pretty face.

For a split second, he's torn between giving you space and running after you. He picks the latter, naturally, and is quickly stumbling after you with all the grace of a newborn fawn, yelling for you to wait, just a second!

You don't, of course, and it takes him catching up to you and slowing to match the pace of your furious stomps for him to be within your earshot.

“Come on, you know I didn't mean to—”

“You literally always do this. You beg me to come train with you, for reasons beyond my understanding considering you’re, like, three grades above me, and then every time it ends with me having to take myself to the stupid nurse’s office ‘cause you can't control yourself ever, so just leave me alone.”

He frowns, guilt tearing at his heart. “Y/N, please, just let me say sorry—”

At that, you whirl around, facing him dead on. Red mars your lower face, still steadily dripping down and collecting on your well-bitten lips, and it takes a world of strength for Satoru to tear his eyes away from your mouth and up to your own gaze boring into him.

He almost hopes for a second you won't speak. Hopes you'll just turn around and continue walking in silence, not looking at him over your shoulder but at least letting him stay with you.

Alas, he is not such a lucky man.

“I don't need you to say sorry,” you mutter, before turning on your heel and marching back into the building, leaving him standing alone on the smooth stone pathway.

He wipes flour from his eyes, sneezing once, twice, thrice.

You sigh. “I thought you said you were good at baking. You called yourself ‘wifey material’.” You’re not faring much better than him, wiping egg from your cheek with a frown.

“Hey! Even a perfect clock is wrong twice a day.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

He sighs, casting his eyes over what used to be the kitchen. Several bags of flour were tipped over, so much egg where egg should not be, milk steadily dripping onto the tiled floor. The two of you look like toddlers who'd broken into the pantry, covered head to toe in staple ingredients.

“Well if I can't cook… and you can't cook… who's going to make us sweet treats?” he laments.

You imperceptibly sigh, almost feeling bad for him. “We can go to the store, if you want,” you murmur, uprighting the carton of milk. You avoid making eye contact with the incredulous look he’s giving you, but can you blame him? It's been months of knowing you, and this is the first time you've proposed hanging out together without him asking first.

His eyes light up, sparkling with glee. “Sure! The store! I’ll pay!”

“Okay. Sure.” You unloop the apron from around your neck, taking his too, and hang them up. “Let's go.”

The walk to the store is pleasant. You can't help but admire the koi fish swimming through the clear-water streams, and Satoru can't help but admire you.

The warmer weather has pushed your white shirt cuffs up your arms, and unbuttoned your top button, and he can't help but trail his eyes over the few square inches of your exposed skin. So soft, and so pretty.

“Pardon?” You’re looking at him now, pushing your glasses up to your forehead and leaving tiny indents on your nose. He’d kill to kiss them away.

“Do you mean to be saying all this out loud?” And now the sun-driven flush on your cheeks climbs higher, teasing the fat under your eyes, sinking lower and falling beneath your jawline, and oh how he’d love to be the one who makes you blush, and be the only man privy to your flusteredness—

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Your rapid clicks before his face grounds him again, and with a squeak he realises how long he's been carelessly speaking his private thoughts aloud. He pouts and swats your hand away, redirecting his gaze to the right, looking away from you.

“What? Wasn’t talking about you. Just… Uh…”

In his embarrassment, he fails to notice the way you're fanning yourself, desperately trying to bring your heated cheeks to a regular temperature.

“Just… reciting poetry…”

“You may enter now.”

The nurse is barely able to finish her sentence before Satoru bursts through the doors of the ward. You’ve sat up in bed, a tiny little scowl marring your perfect features, eyes stubbornly refusing to even glance at the cast around your ankle.

“You scared me!” he whines, dropping into the plastic chair beside your bed and dragging his hands down his face. “I thought I lost you, Y/N!”

“It’s just a broken ankle,” you mutter, swatting half-heartedly at him.

“I mean, honestly, tripping down the stairs? What a lame way to die!” he laments, batting his stupidly long eyelashes at you. It takes everything in you not to snigger.

“What's a good way to die?”

“Oh, you know, getting struck by lightning, killed by a wild rhino, after killing five billion curses… But—” he pouts at you for distracting him, “—that’s not the point! You need to be more careful!”

“Aw.” You smile ever so slightly, your eyes crinkling when you look at him. “Well, you can sign my cast.”

“Really?” He immediately drops his pout, his eyes sparkling as he fumbles for the marker you're offering him. He shoots up and out of his chair, stumbling towards the end of the bed, and giggles like a schoolboy. “The first one?”

“Sure,” you hum, watching the way he delicately cradles your ankle in his hand.

He squeals, and immediately starts doodling his name along your cast. He can't help but draw hearts around his words, but you can't bring yourself to say anything when he looks so pleased with himself.

He pulls away, petting your ankle before he sets it gently back on the bed.

“Tech is sooo boring without you. All techniques, missions that!” He sits down on the bed next to you, as you gently push yourself into a sitting position, careful not to aggravate your foot.

“Yeah? Anything fun happen in the last two days?” You ask, poking his shoulder.

“Nooo…” he sighs. “Everyone loves me too much. No variety.”

“You’re in love with yourself.”

“Well, who isn't?”

You snort. “Right.”

He grins at you. The breeze from the open window gently tousles your hair, your features bare from makeup and freshly washed. You glow under the sun, and he sighs, smiling.

“Hey, when you're back—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Alright, that's enough.” The nurse enters the room, armed with a syringe. “She needs to rest.”

He sighs once more, shoulders deflating, then stands from the bed. “See you.”

You wave. “Later.”

It came as a surprise to few that you made Grade 1 so quickly. A meteoric rise in skill, resultant of over a year of hard work, practice day in, day out. You’ve found yourself scrubbing away calluses every evening, taking less and less time for yourself, but treating less and less wounds.

It was a bone-deep satisfaction when you received the news. A several second long sigh of relief, a weight floating up, up, and away.

“Woooooooo!”

As confetti hits your face, you mentally scold yourself for believing you could ever have just a few minutes of peace.

“Grade 1! Wooooooo!” Satoru sweeps you up into a bone crushing hug, his party popper abandoned on the floor.

Your facial muscles betray you and you smile. Your voice box betrays you too, and you start to laugh as he spins you around.

“I know! It’s crazy!” Who said that? Not you.

“I bought you a caaaake!” He sets you down on the ground, grabbing your hand and dragging you back towards his dorm room.

“For you or for me?”

“For you, but if you don't like it, I’ll have no choice but to eat it.”

“A necessary sacrifice, I’m sure.”

“Exactly!” He pushes you into his room and flicks on the light switch. It illuminates a banner he’d put up, reading “GRADE 1 PARTYYYYY”.

You chuckle again, flopping down on his bed. “What would you have done if I hadn't gotten it?”

He smirks as he retrieves the three-tier Victoria sponge from his mini-fridge. “Wouldn’t’ve taken you to my room.”

You huff out a laugh. “I see.”

He joins you on the bed, sitting cross legged and setting down the cake. “No cutlery.” He grabs a fistful of cake, grinning as he pushes it to your lips. “Open wiiide!”

And as every neuron fires at once, screaming at you to swat his hand away, or pull back, or even just roll your eyes and pretend to be uninterested, you open your mouth and allow him to push a handful of cake into your mouth.

Cream smears along your cheeks, jam along your lips, and you watch him with fond eyes as he finishes off the handful.

And in that moment, you realise how effectively he's worked his way into your heart, taking residence in your arteries and synchronising your best with his own.

He looks back at you, adoration swimming in his crystalline gaze, swallowing down the cake.

“I'm really proud of you,” he says, sincerity in every word, every syllable.

You mirror his smile, reaching out to wipe cream from his chin. “Thank you, Satoru.”

As your skin makes contact with his own, he melts under your touch. He realises how swiftly he's fallen in love with you, barely a year going by before you’ve had him at your feet.

He prays a silent prayer that you will let him share the rest with you.

“The cake?” You say, wiping your hand on a napkin. He realises that, again, he’s expressed his secret thoughts aloud. Oh, well. They're for you, anyway.

“Yeah. The cake.”

[bartmiuscjr]

A matter of time

synopsis 𑁤.ᐟ wolfstar as fuck buddies who don’t expect to run into each other outside of the bedroom, and definitely not in regulus black’s apartment.

disclaimer: english isn’t my first language, bear with me:3 also, open ending! i can definitely do a part 2. if enough people want it.

warnings: implied nsfw, kms comments.

ᡣ𐭩 request from @walaburgasaplusparenting — hope this lives up to your expectations!

The rule was simple: no contact outside of sex.

Sirius had agreed to it, because at first it seemed like a dream. No strings, no messy emotions — just sharp gasps, hands gripping too tight, teeth on skin and shaky moans. Remus wasn’t clingy, didn’t ask for things Sirius wasn’t willing — or ready — to give. They met up, fucked like the world was about to end, and then parted ways like strangers.

Sirius wanted that, he really did. He wanted to meet Remus at night, feeling desperate and needy, knowing that he would take care of him just how he liked it. The mere thought of being in an actual relationship, with emotions and vulnerability? That scared the shit out of him. So yes, being ‘fuck buddies’ — as he graciously named it the first time, earning a scoff and a quiet “that sounds like i’m a bloody toy” from Remus — should have been enough.

And yet.

Sirius doesn’t know when it started — the wanting. Perhaps it was when he caught himself lingering after, watching the way Remus stretched, lazy and content, as if he hadn’t just ruined him. Maybe it was the mornings when he woke up alone, and foolishly thought ‘how would it feel to wake up next to him?’.

Sirius wanted more, but he couldn’t ask — because Remus had never shown a single ounce of interest, not really. For him it was just meaningless sex. When Sirius talked to James about it, he just blinked and stared at Sirius like he was dumb (which he wasn’t, thank you very much) and asked ”right… did he tell you that?” (as if Sirius wasn’t perceptive and couldn’t read the guy he’s been fucking). Lily, bless her heart, reacted the exact same way — “did you ask him, or are you assuming he doesn’t want more?”.

So, in an act of desperation, Sirius decided he would go to his baby brother for advice. This was, probably, the worst decision he had ever made — he wasn’t thrilled about whining about his sex life with Regulus. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and considering his best friends absolutely sucked at giving him actual, helpful advice, Regulus’ coldness and indifference would have to suffice.

The bell announcing the end of the lecture finally rings, forcing Sirius to stop overthinking absolutely everything — because lately it’s the only thing he does — and grab his things, leaving towards his brother’s apartment. It was inside the same college, meaning he didn’t have to walk much. He grabbed his phone and quickly texted Regulus, a simple “i’m going to yours rn”. Regulus, answered an immediate “no”, making Sirius huff.

He didn’t text him back, because he didn’t really care about what his little brother wanted. Apparently, he understood the message, because seconds later another text came: “whatever. my roommate is here, so behave.” Sirius rolled his eyes — he didn’t knew Regulus’ roommate, but it had to be someone equally annoying if he put up with his bullshit. He arrived to his apartment, knocked on the door and waited.

The annoyed face of his brother appeared in front of him, and begrudgingly he moved away so Sirius could walk in. Usually, he would’ve been smirking, ruffling Reg’s hair just to make him scoff, and throw himself on the couch. Today, he just slowly sat on a chair, motioning for his brother to sit in front of him.

Regulus rolled his eyes, closing the door and humoring Sirius. He sat in front of him, his back facing the bedrooms, and raised a single eyebrow — “Well?”. Sirius fidgeted with his hands, and taking a deep breath, started talking.

Regulus reaction was exactly what Sirius expected — “Do I look like someone who gives a fuck about your sex life, Sirius?”. But, seeing that his brother was actually conflicted about it, and hearing that James useless Potter couldn’t help, he sighed and nodded briefly, listening. The door of one of the rooms cracked open, but Regulus paid no mind. Sirius, on the other hand, lifted his gaze — and immediately closed his mouth.

“I’m killing myself” Sirius blurted out after a few seconds of silence, still without looking at his brother — because his eyes were now fixed on Remus motherfucking Lupin. Regulus, still unaware of what was happening, mumbled “Great. Can I watch?”, but frowned when he noticed that Sirius was pale as a ghost, looking behind his head as if he had seen Walburga Black herself.

Sirius and Remus made eye contact for approximately ten seconds, before Regulus turned around and noticed that he was standing there. Apparently, his little brother wasn’t as good as reading people as he thought, because instead of realizing what was going on, he just scowled.

“Great, now Lupin can help with your problem too. He probably has better advice than me” Regulus said, just wanting to leave the conversation. “My brother is apparently fucking a guy who-“

“Shut the fuck up, Regulus” Sirius practically cried, resting his head on his hands trying to hide the blush that crept up his face. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. This was the day Sirius Black killed himself, because there’s no way Remus didn’t hear him rambling about wanting to have something more, wanting to be something more.

Remus was still quiet, which honestly was terrifying. Regulus narrowed his eyes, and it clicked — Sirius knew it clicked thanks to the groan he suddenly let out, and the sound of the chair scratching the floor, meaning he stood up.

“Really, Sirius? My roommate?” Regulus said with the most annoyed voice he could muster. He turned towards Remus, looking horrified. “My brother? You are disgusting. Absolutely disgusting”. Sirius didn’t even want to look up, but then he heard Regulus locking himself in his room, and he knew he was alone with Remus, and-

“You’re overthinking”

Sirius made a little pained sound, like Remus voice alone was enough for him to have a stroke and die. “I’m perfectly fine”. He mentally slapped himself, because the way he said that was definitely not convincing at all. Oh, he was fucked, and not in the sense he liked-

“Sirius”

He lifted his head as soon as his name left Remus lips, because how could he not? He was used to hear him whisper his name between kisses, when he moaned and closed his eyes in pleasure. But now? It was soft. Soft. What was he supposed to do with that if not look? If not beg for him to say it again?

Remus sighed, walked towards the couch and sat in front of him, just where Regulus was sitting seconds before. He looked so collected, so calm — but Sirius knew better. He noticed the way his fingers drummed against his knee, the way he bit the inside of his cheek. “Let’s have a chat”.

And Sirius, for the first time, was terrified of what was going to come out of Remus’ mouth.

[bellysoupset]

"So..." Wendy yawned as she settled on the passenger seat of Bella's car, stripping her raincoat and throwing it in the backseat. They drove out of her street, the rain just starting to pelter off, "are we gonna talk about it?"

"The fact you spent two whole days in Doveport babysitting your boyfriend's sidepiece?" Bella snapped and Wendy raised her eyebrows, mouth hanging open at the unwarranted jab.

Bella probably saw her wounded look, because she cringed, squeezing the steering wheel, "sorry..."

"Yeah, damn right you're sorry," Wendy blinked quickly, struggling to regain her composure, "that was so unbelievably rude, Bella."

"I'm sorry," Bell repeated, taking her eyes off the road for a split second, "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just... I don't want to talk about it."

It being the miscarriage. Wendy sighed, deciding to cut her friend some slack given the strenuous circumstances and reached over the handbrake to squeeze Bell's thigh in an amiable manner.

"Okay, we can not talk about it, that's alright... But you're okay? I mean, not emotionally" — it was painfully obvious the answer to that question — "but physically?"

"Yeah," Bella's voice was weirdly chirpy, a tone she never used and Wendy immediately clocked as fake-happy, "I'm alright, it was like having a heavy period," she removed a hand from the steering wheel, running it through her curls, fingers getting all tangled up on the auburn ringlets, "so... Are you gonna tell me about the weekend off?"

Wendy felt a flash of viciousness, thanks to the previous comment, but she swallowed her petty response and looked out of the window as they drove to Luke and Bell's new place, "honestly it was a lot more fun than it should've been, considering the guy broke his ankle."

Bella let out a snort at that, but didn't comment and Wendy continued on to ramble.

"Vince was, of course, beating himself up over Max breaking his ankle. Severe mental gymnastics to carry the weight of the whole world on his shoulders," she rolled her eyes dramatically and Bella let out a little chuckle, visibly relaxing.

"Well, that's Vin for you," she grinned, taking an exit and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, "he was probably worried out of his mind, he's such a mother hen."

"Yep," Wendy smiled at that, "although Max is really fine, just struggling with learning he can't use the broken foot... It's a shame you didn't get to hang out with him much at the cabin, he's so similar to you. You, but a dude."

"Hot as fuck and a little mean," Bella's smile was genuine now, from ear to ear, "I liked him, even with all the unflattering propaganda Luke was doing of him. Too bad he's four hours over."

"You talk as if it's so far away," Wendy yawned once again, "in fact, have you been to Doveport? Even once?"

Bella seemed taken back by the question, eyebrows jumping up and then she squinted as they stopped on a red light, "no, but you told me I wasn't missing out on anything..." she turned fully to look at Wendy, "did you change your mind?"

"No, the town is boring as hell," Wendy frowned at the weird tone, "but Vince is there and his family is lovely. His mom is teaching me how to cook, she's a blast. Max is a lot of fun too... Really, you guys are all holed up here, but it wouldn't kill you to go over once or twice."

Alright, now she was sounding a little mean, Wendy thought, breathing in as Bella continued to watch her in a flabbergasted manner, "Vince misses you, a lot."

There, the truth, but that wasn't her scolding Bell and the rest of their friend group for sitting on their asses and expecting Vince to always visit when they couldn't be bothered to go to his town even once. She had been subtle enough, right?

The light turned green once more and Bella looked ahead, clearly lost in thought. A heavy silence settled in the car, which Wendy wasn't sure who to blame for, since she hadn't said the quiet part out loud, and they reached a suburban area, filled with pine trees.

"Sure," Bell said, slowing down the car, "you're right. I never been there, you're right."

Okay....

Wendy raised an eyebrow, "I'm right," she echoed, the affirmation sounding like a question and Bella nodded quickly, her curls bouncing.

"Yeah, I'll go over to Doveport. We will go," she promised and Wendy suddenly wasn't so sure if they were talking about the same thing, given how serious Bell sounded.

"Alright," she agreed, confused, "good. That's great..." Wen looked out of her window, "are we here?"

"Next street," Bella's voice was all soft and Wendy was starting to get really unnerved by how out of character her friend was acting. She looked over her shoulder, just in time to see Bella open a big, genuine, smile as they entered the next street.

It was a no exit street and at the very ending of it there was a large sugar maple tree, filled with orange leaves. On each side of the street Wendy could see older, but sturdy houses, none of them too similar, but all sporting a tudor style.

"There," Bell pointed ahead, to the second to last house, "that's ours."

The pride tinging her words was palpable and Wendy felt a knot in her throat as she remembered that two years before she had taken Bella by the hand and helped her pick a tiny condo to live in after a nasty break up. How everything had changed so quickly overnight?

"Oh, it's... Great, actually," Wendy voiced, surprise tinging her words and Bell let out a snort at her tone, parking the car in front of it.

"Didn't you have any faith in me?" She teased, getting out at the same time as Wendy, "it's old, I know-"

"Yep," Wendy popped the P of the word, following the ginger down the limestone path that led to the front door. The front yard was more than overgrown, some weeds reaching about her waist, but Wendy could see the beauty and the potential of it all, "but it's pretty, I'll give you that."

"Right!?" Bella sounded terribly excited as she walked up the eight stone steps that separated the front door from the yard, "it's so charming."

"I was expecting something more... Dramatic," Wendy admitted, taking in the construction. It looked like a stone chateau, with four rounded windows facing the yard and a sunken door, two colonial lamps framing it, "I thought you'd go for a townhouse or a victorian mini mansion."

Bella wrinkled her nose at that, "a mansion? I hate doing chores, why would I get a big place?" she rolled her eyes, opening the front door, "welcome to the Martinez-Atwood home, Ms. Marshall."

Wendy chuckled at her antics, making a big show of taking her first step and Bell followed her, looping their arms together and showing them around.

On the first floor there was a spacious living room with an ancient fireplace, a small extremely dark powder room, a yellow kitchen that was probably a safety hazard with how old it was — one door leading to the dining room, the second one to a mudroom that gave to the backyard and if Wendy thought the front one was in a bad state...

"You need to get that trimmed down, you'll find a whole family of snakes there, Bell," Wendy reprimanded, refusing to step out to the back. On the living room there was a set of stairs, leading to the second floor and Bella gestured for her to follow.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms, although Wendy wouldn't call one of them a bedroom, given how small it was. Between the first two, a small full bathroom, and at the end of the hallway a much larger suite, facing the backyard.

"I'm thinking, this could be a study of some sort?" Bella pointed the small 'bedroom', "I work from home, so this would be neat. Besides, Luke has a million books..." she walked out, entering the second room, "and this one's a guest room-" the for now hung in the air, unspoken but loud and clear, so much so that Bell cleared her throat and turned away from Wendy, "so uhm... You-you better help me decorate it."

"Are you sure? I'll make it pink," Wendy teased her, but her own heart was squeezing as she realized this room was most definitely a nursery in Bell's mind. She wondered if she had known, about the pregnancy, if they had...

"No," Bella shook her head and it took Wen a whole ten seconds to realized she was answering the joke and not the unspoken question, "no pink. But maybe a dark magenta? That would be cool."

"Sure, I can work with that..." Wendy walked around, opening the ancient built in wardrobe, that looked like something out of Narnia, and then out of the window. This room faced the street, Bella's car sitting all alone out there, "Bell..."

As if hearing it in her voice, Bella's head snapped up and she shook it from side to side, "please, don't," her voice was all choked up, "I'm ha- I wanna be happy with this, please don't... Just don't."

Wendy bit down her lip, nodding and opening her arms, "can I have a hug?"

The ginger hesitated, before crossing the room and throwing her arms around Wendy... And then squeezing her so tightly that Wen's air ran out. She squeezed her friend right back, wishing she could comfort her even more than just a hug, but understanding this was all Bell could take at the moment.

"I love you," she mumbled against Bella's curls, on her tiptoes.

Wendy felt a shudder run through her friend and then a small, weak "I love you too" in return. Outside, it started to rain again.

[stoicheincat]

PART 1

Not gonna go over everything discussed in the original post but I want to go over some of it. Also nothing said here is meant to be a attack against any specific creator and is only my experience in the spaces. Want to make sure I specify cuz I'm want to be frank.

On the Normie divide

There isn't more of a marketing issue. Indies don't do a great job of using simple language and pitches to get people interested in games. A consistent issue I see is the use of ttrpg specific acronyms that are hard for those outside the space to understand. Then throw in the algorithms that section people off and new players are mostly pushed away. I think this can be somewhat eased by better marketing with clearer pitches with more visual elements. Tom Bloom's lancer is a good example. It's cool mechs and the art shows it. [Tho the gameplay is less streamlined then a new player would prefer cool art can push people through the bullshit. It get's people excited to play and GMs hyped to run it.] This leads to some common shit that fucks interest from a casual player.

WALLS OF TEXT:

This one is gonna sound hurtful but writers, the novel is not poppin'. This issue can be somewhat smoothish with art but is expensive. When I as a casual player see you bragging about your 200 pg+ Magazine sized book with minimum art it doesn't make me want to read it. Not saying there aren't those who would but if we're going for a general audience then let's make onboarding easier. This can be somewhat eased with a good layout but no guaranteed. We need to think of shorter books with better macro world-building. [Save the micro for extra books focused on it.] Assume that your world's concepts should be the only thing being kept by the GM.

Basically walls of text are a scare for new people. Players latch on to the broad strokes of your world not the specific. [Tho there is a type and it generally becomes the GM. Different books for different players are helpful because it separates info based on need to know.

MECHANICS AS A SELLING POINT

Again targeted more at the writing. Sorry guys. If a more normie audience is the goal. Mechanics probally aren't gonna sell your game and might even harm them. I haven't heard of people that aren't playing ttrpgs ever say how the mechanics was why they wanted to play DND or any other ttrpg. It's usually focused on the setting and then the stories they want to play out. You can do mechanics as a selling point but understand at that point you are going for existing players that have games they like.

LACK OF SETTING VIBE AND OR NOVEL WANNABE

I see this more with artists. The world build is all over the place or incoheret. Basically cool drawings over anything put together. Artist tend to focus on art and often leave out info to make things make sense and even skip writing stuff. I don't know how to express my thoughts on the issue I'm trying to point out but I'll finish it another time if that's all right. Basically artist make unfun mechanics or worlds because they skip writing mechanics. I don't know I need to think this over more when it's not late.

ON INTERNAL CREATOR DIVIDE

Basically people tend to stay away from pushing each others or collabing due mostlish to the reasons bellow.

EGO: Common and we all have atleast a little bit of it.

LACK OF COLLAB EXPERIENCE: Or how it'd work aka contracts, work division, trusted fellow creators, or pay division.

ANTISOCIAL ARTISTIC TENDICIES: I have this one. Basically for some of us most of our creative life has been alone and it's generally just easier.

COMMUNITY VIBES: Basically some spaces can be either to corporate or bad vibes. [Bluesky indie TTRPG creator space gives off corpo networking vibes. I do enjoy people there but it is defo more corpo.]

LIFE RESPONSIBILITIES: Some of us can't really go out of our way to focus on networking due to this being a side thing. [I would like it to be more tho but I'm married with a kid so I got to be smart about how I make that happen.]

Welp I'll make a part 2 when I can but I got shit to do and it's late. Also thanks for tagging me mate.

Let’s Grow the RPG Hobby

Inspired by this post and the conversation surrounding it.

So the RPG world is facing a multitude of interconnected problems. Let’s talk about them, shall we?

---

1: The Problem(s)

Writing this, I find it hard to pinpoint a way to frame the subject of this post as a single thing. But it’s also impossible to treat it as it it’s a collection of separate problems. In reality, the issues facing the indie RPG world are A Hydra; a many-headed conglomeration of related issues, which each require organized, dedicated work to solve. A few examples:

The Normie-Indie Divide

A problem close to my heart, The Normie-Indie Divide describes the gradient between the mainstream of an artistic hobby and the really independent stuff. I compare this to movies a lot, but the more apt analogy is video games. The N-I-D in the videogame industry is so small as to be virtually nonexistent.

We can see this via a number of factors – one example being that the same outlets which cover massive blockbusters & sequels like Assassin’s Creed and God of War, also cover popular indie titles like Celeste and Hollow Knight. Then, freelance journalists who write for those publications (Jacob Geller is an example) go on to cover much smaller games on their own time, and so on. There’s a smooth gradient between the media coverage of the huge stuff, all the way down to a thriving (if still underserved) super-independant industry.

The N-I-D in RPGs feels uncrossable. The most well known RPG is so big it’s currenly riding the high of its second major hollywood adaptation in 20 years, and the second most popular – Vampire the Masquerade – is an unknown even to some indie RPG fans.* This hobby is shockingly impenetrable, even to those of us who spend our days swimming in the deepest end of the pool.

The Supply & Demand Problem

This one’s simple: People are pumping out RPGs by the truckload, and there are just too many! Not only does this make it hard to sift through everything to find the thing you want to read, play, or review, it also makes it nearly impossible to get anyone’s eyeballs on the cool thing you just released!

As others have pointed out, this problem is exacerbated by the fact that relative to some other art media, it’s pretty quick and painless to whip up your own zine or one-pager and publish it on itch. This disincentivises even the most invested of us from looking at a ton of new games, and means that sharing your work can feel like you’re being ignored by a huge crowd.

A Road To Solutions

If all of that is making you feel pretty bad for the future of this medium, you’re not alone. It can feel pretty hopeless facing all of these problems as an indie designer when all the tools you have at your disposal are a tumblr account and a few indie friends to complain to.

But the truth is, I think that this Hydra is eminently slayable. I just don’t think we can do it alone. That in mind, I’ve spent a large portion of my day putting together…

The Call to Action

I think there needs to be organized, persistent effort put into the future of this hobby and this industry, and I think it needs to start the way all good movements do: with a lot of petty, semantic argumentation over definitions and implementation. And to kick things off, here’s my step zero: If you’re reading this post because I’ve tagged you in it (or because I’ve sent you a link to it), my Dms are open. I want to put together a discord group chat† of my peers within RPG tumblr who are invested in tackling The Hydra, such that we can start brainstorming plans of attack to disseminate into the wider community.

The issues I wish to address are these:

The Normie-Indie Divide: How do we go about cultivating a casual audience of indie RPG fans who can bring sustainability and longevity to the industry?

The Supply & Demand Problem: How do we minimize the cognitive load of sorting through the huge volume of work extant in this medium, and more generally encourage peer-to-peer interaction within the community, like news coverage, reviews, and marketing?

The Cognitive Frontload Problem: How do we make it easier to actually engage with a given RPG, considering the amount of cognitive & temporal investment needed? Further, how do we make RPGs, both general and specific, more accessible to readers with a wide variety of abilities, preferences, and available time?

The Insular Community Problem: How do we better connect this hobby with itself, such that it feels a little less like several dozen cliques across 4-6 platforms, and more like the growing, evolving single hobbyist community that it is? Further, how do we make this hobby more accessible to newbies outside the influence of The Hegemons of the Coast?

And more. I’m positive I haven’t thought of everything, and that’s exactly why this needs to be a group effort.

As a last note: Please tag other people! The folks I’ve mentioned here are just those who I personally feel I know well enough to tag; let’s get the rest of the community involved! If you know someone who would be interested who isn’t on tumblr, they can email me: sabrinahawthornegames@proton.me.

*I’m not kidding. Multiple times within the last four months, I’ve introduced VtM to people who I would consider pretty in the sauce of RPGs. I’m talking folks who’ve played Heart: The City Beneath or Wanderhome. It’s bizarre.

†I need to stress that this is only a start. I’m not looking to start a big public discord unless that’s what a group of folks decide is the right call. By “group chat,” I mean “a chat which exists for long enough to hold 1-3 group voice calls to discuss and hash things out, before it’s dissolved in favor of the execution of whatever plans we devise.”

@theresattrpgforthat; @omophagic-beast; @ladytabletop; @rowansender; @monsterfactoryfanfic; @arsene-inc; @toyourstations

[sp00kymulderr]

feeling that way

Joel Miller x transmasc!reader

Lover boy series masterlist

Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. for sexual implications. reader is afab/has female genitals, no pronouns used (written with the idea of a non-binary or transmasc reader), reader wears a packer, references made to both readers cock (packer) and pussy, pet names for reader (baby, honey), Joel is really horny for reader and their cock :), Joel sucks the strap (mention), bulge worship big time, love love love, beautiful queer love actually, writer got emotional and made this too personal and not at all about Joel oops. Unedited and unbeta'd. (divider credit to cafekitsune)

Words: 1.3k~

Summary: Joel enjoys a new part of you. He loves it, in fact.

Something is different about you.

Joel feels it the moment he opens the door. He's good at that, at noticing.

You're sitting on the couch watching something on the tv, nothing unusual there. But the way you hold yourself today, even the way you sit. There's an air of confidence to you that's different than usual. A hint of something new.

It excites him. You always find new ways to excite him.

“Hey” He mutters, coming round behind the couch and leaning down to kiss the top of your head. The usual greeting, intimate and caring.

“Hey” you say back with a smile, your head falling back so you can look up at him. There’s a glint in your eyes that belies your cool air. 

You’re excited too.

“What’re you up to?” Joel mutters, a gruff chuckle leaving his mouth as he rounds the furniture and comes to sit beside you. It doesn’t take much from there to see what exactly has you acting the way you are. His eyebrow quirks, eyes looking up to meet yours then back down.

“Nothing at all” You grin back, and he understands the joy in your features now.

“Fuck, baby. It came?” He says, watching the subtle lift of your hips.

You’d been waiting for the packer for a while, Joel had insisted you go for something quality, something that would feel real for you and even though it meant a longer wait now you were glad he had done that. He’d insisted on paying for it too, ‘let me spoil you, honey’ he’d whispered in your ear when you’d confessed your desperate yearning to wear one.

It felt good to put on. So fucking good to wear. You had floated around the house in elation, a weight almost lifted off your chest at the new addition to you. Your eyes caught in every mirror, traveling down to your crotch at any opportunity. You didn’t feel like a different person, but you certainly felt like a different you.

Joel has a warm hand on you now, his eyes darkening in lust as he takes in the sight of it. Your cock is sitting just so, making a bulge in your tight jeans that he can’t possibly ignore. It makes his own twitch in need.

“Jesus Christ, baby” Joel groans, his hand rubbing lower towards the front of your jeans. Down, down, down… “How does it feel? How do you feel?”

You’re watching as his big hand skims the button of your jeans, stopping just shy of the swell of you. You barely register his words, mouth hanging slightly open, breath coming a little heavier. This is the feeling you’ve been chasing for longer than you realise, longer than you can even say.

“Feels..right” You finally whisper, something about the admittance making you shy away from his gaze momentarily. It feels like a big deal. It is a big deal to you.

Joel pinches your chin between fingers, tilting your head to look at him. Jesus, he looks desperate for it. For you. He leans in and kisses you, more tender than the kiss you expected. A kiss that says ‘I know’, ‘I’m happy for you’, ‘I’m here for you’. You have to fight back the sudden urge to cry. He’s always been supportive, always. You never expected less.

When he lets you go your head falls back against the couch as finally he makes eager contact with the bulge in your jeans. This new part of you. 

And it is a part of you. You feel it when that big hand squeezes gently. You moan for him, breath shaking.

“Looks so fucking good. Feels good too, doesn’t it?” He whispers reverently, and all you can do is nod dumbly and fucking whimper at the sight of him getting down on to his knees, his eyes bright with the wish to worship you for everything you are.

He loves everything you are.

Joel gets between your legs, already spread wider than usual and it’s making his heart hammer in his chest. He looks up at you as he pops the button of your jeans, gives you a look that's so full of desire and absolute need. He looks wrecked and he hasn’t even gotten past the layers of your clothes

“Y-yeah. So good” you murmur as he slowly pulls down the zipper, his eyes flicker from yours and back down to the peek of underwear beneath your jeans. The sound he makes then makes your cunt ache in devastating desperation. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, honey” Joel grunts out, noticing at once that you’re wearing a pair of his boxers - your favourite ones, black with a simple red design, snug against his dick and now against yours too. Your eyes meet again, yours surely glistening with a lust matching his, and the look he gives you makes you clench around nothing. Without a thought your hips cant up to connect the bulge of your cock with his palm again.

“I know, I know” Joel mutters sympathetically, keeping eye contact with you as he very intentionally lowers his head, only breaking away from your eyes when he presses his lips against the firm yet soft barely exposed front of your- his - underwear.

And fuck if your legs don’t start to shake, if your core doesn’t tighten breathtakingly as he plants open mouthed, sloppy kisses there.

“Can feel your cock. That’s your fuckin’ cock, ain’t it?” He murmurs, not moving away but turning his head, his cheek pressed against there and you want to cry again at his words, at the affirmation, at the acceptance of your needs and the love he shows for you even in this filthy moment.

“Yeah, Joel. Yeah…” You stumble out, practically dumbfounded as you watch your handsome, gruff, hardened man worship the bulge of your fake dick like it��s his favourite thing in the whole damn world.

“Say it baby” He orders, voice all grunts and groans as he deftly rubs his nose against you now.

“My cock…it’s my…fuck…”

“Yeah it is” Joel smiles up at you, such a beautiful sight, all pride and joy just for you. God, you love him you think as he moves away for a moment tapping your hip lightly to lift your ass so he can pull your jeans all the way down. He’s all but salivating at the proper sight of you filling out his underwear, both your hearts beating a matching rhythm in your chests

“Gonna let me suck it too, huh? Fill my mouth up all good?” He says, voice gravelly with wild desire that makes every part of you feel on fire - a fire you never want to put out. Let it burn forever, let it burn everything but the two of you. 

You watch rapt as he kisses up your thigh whilst his big hand experiments with squeezing your impressive package, facial hair tickling your inner thigh before he moves up again. As Joel practically worships at the altar of you his own member strains against his pants, you can tell from the way he thrusts against nothing - still on his knees, which he’ll regret a little later, hips subtly shifting every time he enthusiastically rubs his face on your crotch.

“I love it, Joel. I feel- feel like me” You finally admit out loud. 

“I know” He says back.

‘Thank you’ you whisper, though perhaps the words never make it out of your mouth before he’s drawing away, standing with a groan and knees clicking. Taking your hand in his with a squeeze and all but dragging you to the bedroom.

He takes one moment, just one, to stop in your tracks and look in your eyes. A gentle, loving, caring look that makes you feel so special. Just like he does every day.

“You’re here, baby. You’re here”

And he’s right, finally you are.

[danieyells]

?????? Why did he tell me everything was fine if my insurance requires me to have been on hormones for 2 years to approve the procedure. . .why didn't he say they won't approve it if that wasn't the case. . .is that outdated information???? Maybe we can lie????

Am i seriously about to have all of my fucking hype crushed???? Maybe I can convince my doctors to lie for me or we can say I was doing it DIY for a few years. People ask how long I've been on hormones a lot because my voice is pretty deep and I look pretty masculine surely we could get away with this???

I feel really fucking beaten down now. Why not stop the discussion and go 'hey they require X amount of time on hormones'. . .I really hope I can convince my providers to fudge the truth for me a little or i'm going to lose my mind i seriously don't know how well i'm going to take it if i can't get this done???? Like I already feel so anxious at the thought. Please everything about me needs this. I am going to go fucking insane if this can't happen this year.

[milo-is-rambling]

I think I’m always going to be running and trying to find the next thing that will make me happy and it will always be something I have to find within myself. So that’s cool.

[mbat]

its really funny changing the events of WoW for my OCs version of things because im just mangling the entire thing into something completely nonsensical just to be like. yeah i like that :]

[angelfic]

jason todd x reader

warnings — mentions of size/body image, jason being insecure… and also sexy. also this is unedited as per usual. other than that, nothing!

a/n; im gonna bite his bicep like that’s all i have to say. enjoy <3

JASON TODD is huge.

the man is over 6 feet of pure muscle so it doesn’t matter how tall you are, he’s bigger than you and he’s very aware of it.

when he’s red hood, being so large is a tactical advantage. he feels strong and in charge and practically unbeatable.

when he’s jason, he feels uncomfortable and noticeable and that’s the last thing he wants or needs. he doesn’t stop working out, because not only does he need something physical to relieve his stress, but he also can’t afford not being jacked as fuck. how the hell else is he supposed to be as scary as he is as red hood.

instead, he overcompensates by wearing darker colours, slightly oversized hoodies, not always standing up at his full height. it doesn’t do that much, the sheer size of him is a little hard to fully hide, but it makes him feel a little better.

when you come into the picture, things slowly start to change.

every time he hugs you, it’s instantly a mood booster for you because of how safe it feels with his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world for a few minutes. the way you sigh and melt into the hug has him smiling, a little shyly, as he holds you closer.

whenever you need him to get you something off a high shelf, he happily obliges and loves feeling useful. more than that, he loves how you always thank him by gently running a hand down his chest. “what would i do without you?” you say, sincerely, because you know he needs to hear it sometimes. and when you drop a kiss to his forearm as he sets the object down, he’s suddenly glad that he’s taller than you and he starts standing a little straighter.

the first time you hold up his hand against yours to compare sizes, you find yourself grinning at the difference. jason finds himself thinking about how small your hand is instead of how large his own is. and when you interlock your fingers with his, that’s all he’s focusing on.

sometimes, when your eyes are locked on your phone as you’re walking the busy streets of gotham and letting jason guide you around with your hand in his, he’s having to grab your waist to stop you bumping into someone or something. “careful,” he mutters, but his mind has gone blank and all he’s thinking about is his large hands around your waist and his pulse is racing. he feels like a creep until you turn around to give him a sheepish smile and thank him, placing your hands on his to keep them around your waist. he doesn’t miss the way you’re glancing down and biting your lip.

with jason around, you never have to do any heavy lifting, but of course you’re going to try sometimes. when you buy a cute new coffee table and it arrives when he’s out on patrol, you physically can’t wait to open and buid it. that bit is easy enough, but you find yourself cursing when you realise you stupidly built it on the other side of the room. “uhm, what do you think you’re doing?” jason asks, leaning in the doorway, red hood helmet in between his arm. you’re breathing heavily, arms pinned awkwardly at your sides as you were trying a new approach of throwing your body weight against the table to shift it. you slump, looking up at him with a pout.

“it’s heavier than i thought,” you admit. jason crosses the living room in two giant strides.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says, lifting the entire thing with both hands on either side and effortlessly placing it in front of the couch. he looks at you for approval in case you want it elsewhere and finds that you’re staring at him, slack jawed. he frowns, crossing his arms over, vigilante suit still on. “what…?”

“that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, shamelessly. he grins, shaking his head at the way you’re completely serious, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. “no, seriously, you need to run before i pounce on you.”

his favourite thing is your habit of falling asleep on him when you’re watching tv and he often needs to pick you up to take you to bed. sometimes, you start to stir, halfway to the bedroom and you sleepily blink up at him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “you’re so strong,” you mumble against his shoulder, your voice soft with drowsiness. jason’s heart clenches.

jason starts standing at his full height just so he can see you craning your neck to look at him, giving him the excuse to lift you up onto the counter which often results in you wrapping your legs around his waist and engaging a make out session.

he starts to wear t-shirts instead of large hoodies when he goes to the gym, just so he can hear you wolf whistle as he walks to the door, running over to kiss him goodbye and giving his biceps a squeeze.

day by day, jason finds himself more comfortable with just being him. and he’s even happier than he gets to be himself with you.

a/n cont.; the red hood mask stays ON during sex

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

HOLY SHOWER

Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds

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You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.

On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.

Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.

After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.

You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.

,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.

"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of ​​warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.

You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.

A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.

He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.

You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.

Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.

"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.

"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.

"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.

He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.

"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.

"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.

"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.

He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.

You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.

You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.

Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.

You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.

You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.

You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.

"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.

"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.

"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.

,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.

Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.

You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.

You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.

You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.

"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.

Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.

Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.

When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.

You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.

Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.

You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.

Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.

Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.

Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.

,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.

He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.

He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.

When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?

He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.

The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.

After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.

He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.

"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.

Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.

Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.

He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.

After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.

It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.

It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.

He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.

You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.

His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.

He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.

But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.

,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.

Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.

The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.

The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.

"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.

Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.

The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.

He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.

If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.

You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.

After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.

Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.

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[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/743255237060689920/the-thing-that-confuses-me-about-the-dont-vote

The “don’t vote” left’s point is basically that, if Biden gets a second term, it’ll basically signal that “They’ll vote for us as long as we’re not Republicans, why don’t we do some REAL fucked up shit, if we can get away with it?” It takes the power out of the people’s hands and places it firmly in the party’s.

I can’t completely disagree with that, my caveat is that there’s no real alternative system or party in place, because top-down change is ineffective; a third party president has to contend with a two party congress.

Except no. This whole "Biden just wants to do as much fucked up shit as possible while not being a Republican, and if you give him a second term he'll do more fucked up shit deliberately to spite you" mindset is only possible as an interpretation if you a) deliberately and comprehensively ignore everything he has done to date, and b) you approach the situation with the maximum bad faith possible. Not to mention, the ultimate outcome of this Big Important Teaching Biden A Lesson is that Trump gets back into power and makes everything orders of magnitude worse, because he does in fact want to deliberately do evil shit to everyone and says so at every opportunity. There is not some magical happy alternative that springs into existence by not voting. If you choose this as a year to Teach Biden A Lesson, you are enabling Trump. Trump will be much, much worse. If you don't care about that, I still do not care what your Great Ideology is. You are not helping anyone and you are directly and irreversibly hurting everyone.

I made a post a few days ago wherein I mentioned that I want to assess Biden fairly, taking into account both strengths and weaknesses, but the rampant bad-faith, lying, misreading, misrepresentation, and open sabotage of him (especially by the online left; the GOP sometimes only wishes they were as good at turning Biden's voter pool against him) makes it really difficult to do that. My frustration with those people makes me just want to go "BIDEN IS GREAT THE END." I know he is a flawed old man (though by literally every account of a career spent in public service, he really does care about making the world a better place and any remotely good faith reading of his accomplishments thus far can see that). It is also very likely that he goes MORE left in a second term because he won't have to face the electorate again, he has always gone more left when pushed before, and he's not actually the scheming genocidal mastermind that leftist social media paints him as. Shocking, I know.

I know there are things in the world we don't like and don't want and want to stop, and therefore we blame our own president for not making it stop. But I have zero, no, none, absolutely none whatsoever sympathy for this pseudo-populist "WE NEED TO TEACH BIDEN A LESSON BY ELECTING TRUMP AGAIN, I AM VERY MORAL MUCH ACTIVIST" mindset. There's this funny thing about America wherein it is still (for now) a democracy. If Biden wins a second term, he can't run again. I would take literally anything these people said more seriously if they focused on developing their dream progressive successor for 2028 (and also figured out how to get that person elected and in a place to make real change) rather than cynically sabotaging Biden in the most consequential election year, again, of our lifetimes. If you don't like him now, find a way to make his successor a better option. Throwing a toddler tantrum and handing the country back to a senile, deranged, fascist, revenge-riddled, theocratic Trump HELPS. NOBODY. I still don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that, but yeah.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - THREE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x Sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, of abortion, health risks & death. chapter one ┆chapter two ┆ chapter four

Two lines.

Two bold, definitive lines.

You blinked. Once, twice, but it didn’t change. It wasn’t going away. 

Two lines, clear as fucking day, staring back at you like they were taunting you.

The universe was laughing right in your face. You felt everything plummet to the very bottom of the earth—the room, the floor, your stomach—it all just plummeted, like you’d been pushed off a cliff with no warning.

The test fell from your grip, clattering onto the marble countertop, but you didn’t care. You backed away from it like it was something radioactive, something dangerous that could destroy you if you got too close. But it already had, hadn’t it?

You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?

You knew how, obviously. You weren’t that dumb. All you could see in your head was Rafe’s stupid fucking face. His name alone made you want to punch something, preferably his balls. 

You were pregnant? With his kid? You were so careful with your life, with your image. 

You could feel the resentment rise in your throat again, the taste of acid making you want to scream. He didn’t get to do this to you. He couldn’t ruin your life twice, fuck you up this bad and then just leave. You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. You hated it. And worse, you hated yourself.

There you were, stuck with this. Alone with a baby you didn’t even want to think about. The thought of it growing inside you—of carrying some piece of him, some reminder of everything he put you through these past two months—it was loathsome. He wasn’t part of this, not anymore. And you weren’t that girl—you didn’t want to be. You weren’t the one who begged for him to care, who waited around for him to come to his senses, who made excuses.

You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.

You weren’t going to ruin all that hard work over him again. No way.

You pressed a tissue to your eyes—not to cry, but to catch the stray moisture that threatened to ruin your eyeliner—and took a deep breath. You smoothed your dress, and made sure everything was in place. 

You didn’t have time to figure it out, or wallow, or throw shit around. You straightened your back, lifted your chin, and forced yourself to feel nothing. 

Not the panic, not the nausea, not the rage. Nothing. 

You could push it all down, shove it into that deep hellish place in your guts where you put everything else. Later, maybe you’d have to let it out.  

Just as you were spiraling deeper into the pit, there was a knock on the door. Loud. It made you jump, pulling you out of your head for just a second.

“Hey!” It was Lily, her voice bright, oblivious. “It’s time. We need you out there. You’ve got like three minutes.”

Right. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.

You stepped out of the room, every movement rehearsed, the smile expertly placed on your lips. You were a master at this—faking it, pretending like nothing in the world could touch you.  Not after seeing those two fucking lines.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked through the hallway, down the steps, and into the ballroom. It was filled with kooks being kooks. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake friendships. You weren’t even listening to a word anyone said to you.

“Hi, darling, you look stunning as always,” someone said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled, said thank you, maybe even added a you too, but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your body knew exactly what to do at these things. 

Pretend like you gave a shit.

“Your dad would be so proud,” another woman gushed, and you wanted to throw up. You laughed. 

If he knew what was happening. Pregnant? By a man who didn’t put a ring on your finger?

And there they were, of course—Topper, Kelce and Ruthie, standing in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots. Well, Topper grinning like an idiot.

Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and you reached out instinctively, but the waiter, somehow, just missed you. The tray floated right past, and before you could even realize the fact that you didn’t have a drink in your hand, her eyes were on you.

“Oh, you're not drinking?” she asked, voice dripping with fake concern. Her eyes flickered, like she knew something, and you swear to god, your eyelid twitched.

“Not yet,” you replied with the same faux smile.

Ruthie just kept watching you with those too-knowing eyes, like she was looking for a crack, some little tell. Because she always did.

You had to be so careful around her.

One wrong move, one second, and she’d be all over it, spreading it around the entire town before you even had a chance to breathe.

Your cousin, completely oblivious, was babbling with Kelce about something—probably golf, or the new boat his dad bought, or some other thing you couldn’t care less about. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but you were mentally still in the bathroom, staring at those two lines.

“So, you invited Rafe?” Kelce said it like it was nothing, like bringing up your ex-boyfriend was the most casual thing in the world.

“What the actual fuck did you just say?” You all but growled out, enough to make him choke on his champagne.

He looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t just mention the one person you’d rather hurl off a bridge at the moment. “Yeah, Rafe. He’s on the list, right?”

Your whole body went rigid. You blinked, trying to keep your face from giving anything away, but inside? You were dying. Ruthie’s eyebrows shot up—oh great, now you had her attention too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Kelce, of course, had the nerve to chuckle. 

If Rafe had spoken to them about being taken off the guest list, you’d lose it. The insolence of him mentioning your name—like he still had any right to talk about you? He should’ve buried the memory of you right along with whatever feelings he claimed to have had.

But then, if he hadn’t said a word about it to his best friends—that meant something worse. That meant he didn’t care. He was over it. Over you. 

He hadn’t even bothered to tell them that he wasn’t coming to the gala because he wasn’t thinking about it. Or about you. 

You hated either possibility. 

Kelce like the asshole he was, "I thought you two were—"

"Don't." You cut him off so fast, so hard, he had to take a step back. 

You wanted to grab Top by his clueless shoulders and demand answers. Did Rafe care? Was he coming tonight? You didn’t like any option—every scenario made you want to get on a plane to the other side of the world.  If he was planning to show up despite being cut from the list…Shit, what would you even do? You could feel the headache starting already. 

That would be so him, though.

The arrogance. The entitlement, ignoring boundaries because he never thought the rules applied to him.

Ruthie, of course, was still watching you like a hawk. Her eyes darted between you and Topper, and you could practically feel her mind working, trying to piece together whatever she thought she was seeing. She loved this. She lived for other people’s drama, and you knew she’d sniff out anything that didn’t look flawless.

You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.

"Ow, Jesus—what the hell?!" he yelped, stumbling to keep up with you in his shiny loafers as you all but hauled him into the nearest corner of the ballroom, out of sight, but still within earshot of the crowd. 

You didn’t care. Let someone see. Let them all see.

You turned to him, barely letting go of his ear, your nails tapping impatiently against your crossed arms. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and maybe you had.

“Spill it.”

He was still rubbing his ear. “What are you talking about?”

“Rafe,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “Is he coming tonight? And don’t you dare lie to me, Top.”

He gulped. Actually gulped. You swore you could see the gears turning in that pretty, empty head of his, trying to figure out if he could weasel his way out of this.

“I— I don’t know, okay?” Topper stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t talked to him today, but I figured… I mean, he always comes to these things, so I assumed—"

That meant Rafe didn’t tell him. That your little stunt hadn’t phased him in the slightest. 

“You assumed?” You leaned in closer, eyes burning holes into his skull. “After everything, you thought it was a good idea to just assume he’d show up and not even bother telling me?”

“I can’t put him on a leash!” His voice rose defensively, eyes wide like he was the one under attack. And yeah, maybe he was. Maybe you’d gone full psycho mode. Rafe always turned you into this—this furious, spiraling, out-of-control version of yourself.

Your cousin was just collateral damage.

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe someone should.”  You said it slowly like you were explaining something to a child. “Do you even know what it’s like?” you hissed, leaning in closer, your voice dropping , “To sit here, wondering if he’s gonna show up like some ticking time bomb?”

Topper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He didn’t know shit about what you were going through. How could he? He wasn’t the one with a whole life-changing secret burning a hole in his brain, wondering if the father of the child growing inside him was going to ruin everything—again.

“I—I didn’t think it was that serious,” Topper stammered, hands flying up in surrender. “I mean, he’s always been a dick, but—”

You remember the first thing he texted you after weeks of radio silence.

“No,” you interrupted, “He’s more than just a dick. He’s—” You stopped yourself before you said too much. God, you were on the edge, and you needed to rein it in. 

Topper, still looking like a kicked puppy, shifted on his feet. 

“Look, I’ll text him. I’ll ask if he’s coming or not, okay?” He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. You watched him, arms crossed, tapping your foot against the marble floor like your life depended on it.  If you saw his face—his stupid, beautiful, infuriating face—you didn’t know what you’d do. 

Punch him? Scream? Run? The thought of him being here, so close, when you hadn’t even processed what was happening to you…

“Okay, he says—” He paused, squinting at his screen, “he’s not coming.”

The relief. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shoulders sagging for just a second before you caught yourself. He’s not coming.

But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this... this thing inside you.

“See?” Topper said, holding up his phone like it was some peace offering. “He’s not coming. Crisis averted.” He gave you this awkward, nervous smile, like he thought you might hit him again.

You forced a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny.

“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” you said through gritted teeth simultaneously smoothing your dress, and pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “Thanks, Top. Really. You’re a real lifesaver.”

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not, but you didn’t care. The moment was over. You’d survived. 

You rolled your eyes as you turned away heading back toward your original group. Of course, Ruthie was still standing there her arms crossed, that smug little smirk on her face. She’d been watching the whole thing, no doubt about it. 

You could feel her nosy ass dissecting every single move you made. 

“He’s not here yet,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing just enough to piss you off. “Weird, right? Maybe he’s busy with Sofia.”

Of course, she brought up that fucking name. 

She was sniffing out blood in the water, as if she wasn’t just another Sarah Cameron knock-off. You could already picture it—the headlines, the whispers spreading through the audience, everyone talking about you. The legacy who ruined her own gala.

Kelce snorted, not even bothering to hide his amusement, because of course he thought this was all a joke. He never got it. None of them did.

You wished, for just a second, that you weren’t born into this pristine, high-society life. You felt so smothered by these expectations. If you were anyone else, if you weren’t some debutante raised on champagne and etiquette, you’d have punched her right there. You’d have knocked her straight to the floor and wiped that pretentious smile off her face with blood in front of every stuck-up rich asshole in the room. 

“I didn’t realize we were talking about her,” you said, voice like sugar, even though you knew Ruthie could sense the underlying warning in it,“But thanks, Ruthie, for always keeping me updated on things that don’t concern you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down yet.

“Just making conversation. I mean, it is weird that he hasn’t shown up yet, right? Considering how close you two used to be. I’m sure it’s nothing, though.”

Kelce, that asshole, leaned in, "Come on, don't act like you’re over it." His eyes glanced down to your hand. "You’re shaking."

You were. You hadn’t even noticed.

But instead of acknowledging it, you shot him a look that could've killed. "Fuck off, Kelce."

They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.

“Uh-huh,” Ruthie said, not buying a word of it. Her eyes flicked between you and Topper, and you knew what she was doing. She was fishing. “You sure about that? You were giving him a look.”

You glanced at your cousin, who was still rubbing his ear like a toddler. “Just sorting out some... logistics for the gala,” you said, voice saccharine, but it felt like chewing on glass. “It’s nothing. Really.”

She arched a brow, her lips curling up in a knowing grin. She knew something was off. She always did. “Right,” she said slowly, drawing the word out like she was savoring it. “Because for a second there, it looked like you were about to explode.”

She was monitoring you so closely, you could feel it crawling up your skin.

“You know,” she sighed, like she cared. “If something’s going on you can tell me. I won’t say a word.”

That was rich. Ruthie, keeping a secret? You’d sooner trust a thief with your jewelry.  “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said, not keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. “But trust me, there’s nothing to tell.”

Ruthie’s pursed her lips, annoyed that she hadn’t managed to dig anything up, “Are you—”

You were two seconds away from shoving her into the nearest fountain. But instead, you took a deep breath, “You should worry less about me,” you advised her, “and more about that atrocious dress you’re wearing.”

The smile fell off her face so fast, it was glorious.

You didn’t wait for her to recover. You turned on your heel, and grabbed Topper by the arm.

As soon as you were far enough away, he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna deck her.”

You grinned, but there was no warmth in it. “I still might.”

He sighed, “She’s still my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, downgrading seems like a thing for you boys.”

Like a guardian angel sent from above, Lily appeared, stepping between you two with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey,” she interrupted, glancing between you, “What was that about?”

You could see the caution in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—Lily knew things between you and Rafe had been rocky, and she’d probably been sensing the tension the entire night. But right now, she was doing her best to defuse the earlier situation before it got any worse.

“Nothin’, just Ruthie being herself,” You dismissed, as you grabbed onto her forearm, “Let’s go.”

Lily blinked, startled by your urgency, but she didn’t argue. “Yeah, we should head backstage, the speech is coming up.”

“Bye Top. Stay the fuck away from the chocolate fountain.”

You could hear him whine in the back, “I did that shit once!”

Lily pulled you along through the ballroom, her arm linked with yours, quickening her pace to keep up with you as you nearly bolted toward the back of the venue. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you bit out, though your voice didn’t even convince you. “I’m fine. I just need to get this speech over with.”

“Uh-huh,” She replied, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it for now. “You got it, don’t worry.”

Finally, you made it to the side entrance that led backstage. The thick drapes and low lighting created a shield, giving you a small moment of privacy before the world demanded your attention again. 

Lily stood next to you, gently touching your arm, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can stall, or—”

“I have to,” you stopped her, rubbing a hand over your face, “I can’t—” You didn’t finish your sentence because you didn’t know how to say it. You had no choice.

Lily’s fingers squeezed your arm a little tighter. “Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. “But I’m here if you need me.”

You forced a smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.

You appreciated her being here, really, but she was blissfully unaware of the pregnancy test in the trash can. 

Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your posture, straightened your dress, and ran a hand through your hair, reminding yourself that you’d been here before. You’d stood on that stage so many times.

This wasn’t new. You just had to get through it. 

One more speech. One more night. You glanced at Lily, gave her a quick nod, and stepped through the final curtain. Back into the spotlight. Back into the role you’d perfected so well—put together, poised, untouchable.

The low murmur of the gathering hummed in your ears, growing louder with every second. You weren’t ready. You were never going to be ready.

You just needed to remember how to breathe.

The speech was printed and sitting in your hands, it felt like dead weight. You hadn’t even read through it since you’d finished it hours ago, and now, the thought of standing in front of all those people, pretending to have it together—it felt impossible.

Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Rafe. 

He said he wasn’t coming. Topper said he wasn’t coming. But there he was, standing there, watching you just like he always had. 

You hadn’t even meant to look. You didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps it was muscle memory, always searching for him. He was standing in the same spot he usually took. Like nothing had changed.

As if he hadn’t ripped you apart.

You tried to focus, but your heart was racing, thundering in your ears. 

How dare he? How fucking dare he? Instantly you were back there, that messy, intoxicating space you swore you’d never return to. The one where he controlled the air you breathed. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing a crisp navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly, hair buzzed again. 

You should’ve guessed he’d find a way back here, even after everything. 

“Are you ready?” Lily whispered beside you, her voice pulling you back from the brink of a breakdown. 

“Yeah.”

Your heart raced as you forced yourself to look back at Rafe.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending to look interested. He just stood there, his eyes locked on you, unreadable, unfathomable.

He was still watching you. It felt like could see through your polished exterior. He probably did. He knew you better than anyone else. You wondered what he saw—the confident girl who had always pulled off these events with ease or the terrified woman who was about to pass out from the pressure.

Then, he’s lips lifted slightly. That infuriating, devil-may-care almost there smirk that had made your heart stutter long before everything went to hell. It reminded you of nights spent tangled in sheets, whispers pressed against your skin under the cover of darkness, moments that felt like they belonged in a dream.

You wanted to throw the speech away and storm off the stage, leaving this whole night behind.

Instead, you cleared your throat and gripped the edges of the podium, the cool wood bringing you back to the world. 

The words were on the paper in front of you, but you didn’t need to look at them. You knew the speech by heart every year.  You’d written it yourself, after all—crafted it with care, knowing exactly what people needed to hear to make their checks bigger, to keep your father’s legacy alive.

It was just a matter of saying it without breaking.

A deep breath, and then you began.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight.”

Your voice sounded better than what you felt, and you leaned into that, letting it carry you through the first few lines.

“We gather here every year for the same reason—to celebrate the incredible work this foundation does, and to honor the legacy of those who came before us. This foundation isn’t just a charity; it’s a tribute. A way to remember those we’ve lost and to carry their dreams forward. It’s about giving back to a community that gave so much to us.”

You paused, just for a moment, glancing down at the speech in your hands, feeling the overwhelming crush of what you’re about to say next.

“For me, this has always been personal.” Your voice softened as you continued, “Most of you are aware I lost my family a few years ago. My father started this foundation. His vision was always to make sure that no one was left behind, that we take care of our own. My mother helped build it. And my sister…” You hesitated, remembering how faultless she’d been, “She was always the heart of it.”

The room was utterly still now, everyone listening intently. 

“Tonight, as I stand here, I can’t help but think about how proud they would be of what we’ve accomplished. At least, I hope they’d be proud.”

You allowed yourself a small, bittersweet smile.

“My dad would’ve been in his element, making sure everything was spotless. And my mom, well, she’d probably tell me that the curtains were horrid and needed to be replaced immediately.”

The crowd gave a light laugh, the tension in the room dissipating just a little. You smiled, a real one this time, for the first time in weeks, picturing your mother in her no-nonsense way, criticizing every decoration like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I miss them every day,” you added, “And I’m certain I’m not the only one in this room who’s experienced that kind of loss. It changes you. But it also reminds you to live in a way that makes them proud. And that’s what tonight is about, continuing their work, continuing their legacy, and making sure we do right by them.”

Your grip on the podium loosened, and you looked up, making eye contact with the audience. 

“So, to everyone here tonight—thank you. Thank you for believing in this cause. Thank you for your generosity, your support, and your kindness. And thank you for helping me keep their memory alive.”

With that, you stepped back from the podium, the applause swelling around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.

It was over. You did it.

Automatically, your eyes flickered up toward the back corner, the spot where Rafe was standing. You never needed to look before; you’d always just known he’d be there. It was his silent promise to you since you were sixteen. Every gala, every speech—no matter what happened between the two of you—he was there.

But he wasn’t there anymore. The space was empty.  

This was what you wanted, you didn’t need him anymore. You were going to get through this on your own. It was the first time he wasn’t there to catch you like he’d always been.

You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.

That stupid fucking warmth. 

His hand found your elbow as you and every nerve in your body screamed bloody murder. The applause was still buzzing in your ears, cameras flashing—none of it registered.

All you saw was him.

Three seconds. That was how close you were to snapping. Who the fuck let him in?

You yanked your arm away, the touch burning your skin like it was staining you. You didn’t say a word—just turned and headed straight for the back exit.

Behind you, you heard his footsteps.

Of course, he never knew when to stop, when to let you breathe.

“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”

You were already halfway down the hall, pulling off your earrings as you stormed toward your suite.

The fucking sheer audacity of this man. You couldn’t even process it—how he could stand there, with his fake-ass calm tone, chasing after you like you were the one being unreasonable.

You threw open the door to the suite you got ready in, the one that was supposed to be your sanctuary for the night and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind you; you knew he was going to follow you in any way.

He was relentless like that.

You tossed the earrings onto the vanity and glanced up to see he was right behind you now, lingering in the doorway, as if unsure of how much further he could push before you exploded.

He looked at you like he was the victim in all this.

“Can you at least listen to me for a second?” It sounded like he was forcing himself to stay calm.

But that bite was so Rafe.

You spun around, your breath coming out harsh.

“Listen to you? Listen to you? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already pulling off your heels, the sharp tug at the straps doing nothing to calm your frustration.

He stood there, his eyes on you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for more than a second without feeling the betrayal flooding your chest.

Rafe was rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way he did when he was frustrated.  “I came here because I didn’t want to leave things like that. I thought we could be civil—”

“Civil?” You nearly laughed, “You seriously think you can walk in here and be civil after everything?”

His eyes narrowed just a fraction. He moved on his feet, stepping further into the room, and you saw it—the way he rolled his shoulders like he was already preparing himself for a fight.  “I came to apologize.”

He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.

Your hands stopped mid-motion, your necklace halfway off. You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Apologize for what, exactly?" 

“For calling you dramatic.” He exhaled like he was doing something noble by saying it. As if he was doing you a favor. “For that text. I was drunk, didn’t mean it.”

He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her. 

You stared at him, completely floored. He was serious, he thought this was some kind of peace offering. The fact that he thought an apology for that would fix anything? Insane.

“You think this is about that?” You cackled, chucking one shoe to the side, not caring where it landed, and the other followed right after. “Oh my god, Rafe, you are so fucking clueless.”

His expression changed then, brows furrowed, “I’m trying to make things right,” he mutters. “I don’t want you out of my life, okay?”

You threw the necklace somewhere on the ground, your patience gone. “You were the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can just fix things because you finally feel bad about it.”

He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”

Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.

“I don’t want to be your friend!” You growled in his face, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his chest,  “I’d rather set myself on fire than be your friend, so you can take that chance and shove it up your ass.”

His hand came up to run along his head again, and you saw the way his fingers curled into his scalp like he was trying not to give in to his impulsive thoughts. His breathing was heavier now, too, chest rising and falling quickly.  

“Why are you being so difficult?” he snapped, and there it was—the familiar, accusatory edge in his voice. “After what you said about my dad—”

The reason.

The thing that broke you two this time, the thing he’d been holding over your head. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t let go of.

You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head. 

“You’re gonna bring that up right now?” Your voice was so quiet it nearly scared you. “After all the shit you’ve put me through, that’s what you’re mad about?”

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”

But Sofia did, right? 

That was fucking hilarious. She didn’t grow up listening to Ward’s bullshit. Didn’t see the kind of things he’d say or did to his oldest child. 

Of course, she would take his side. She didn’t know better. 

You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”

For a moment, the air went deadly still between you. You could sense his hurt, the way it sneaked between every bitter word.

Then, he did it—the thing you knew he would, that thing that made your blood boil. 

Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”

Your whole body went borderline rigid, like a door, locked in place.

He was standing there, offering you friendship like a pity prize, calling you jealous when you were standing there broken, trying not to fall apart because of him.

“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”

He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."

Ouch. But you could do worse. 

"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"

"At least she doesn’t care about any of this," he snapped, gesturing to the glittering gala that surrounded you both. "She’s not obsessed with keeping up appearances.”

A cold laugh escaped your lips. He must’ve forgotten to look in the mirror today.

"God, you’re so delusional. Do you think I wanted any of this?” You shot him a look that could cut through steel. "I’m not the one faking it. You are. You are still so desperate for Daddy’s approval that you can’t even see what a fucking mess you are."

Rafe's hands flexed at his sides, his fingers twitching. His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he was trying to stay calm.”

"I’m not afraid of who I am," His lips barely moved as he spoke, rolling his shoulders back again, standing to his full height. "You spend so much time trying to be perfect, you don’t even know who you are anymore."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, like a predator sizing you up, his eyes locked on yours. You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath as he tried to keep his composure.

You took a step closer, your chest brushing against his, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. His gaze flicked downward, scanning your face.

"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."

He clenched his jaw again, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a sharp breath through his nose, staring you down with a look that was all Rafe—volatile, unreadable, on the edge of breaking.

Right then and there, Lily burst into the room, her wide eyes taking in the scene like a bomb had just gone off.

"Okay! What is going on in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp but layered with concern. “I could hear you two in the hallway. If something happened, this is not the place to deal with it.”

 “You wanna know what happened, Lily?” you started, almost laughing with disbelief. “This motherfucker started seeing someone behind my back. Two months—two fucking months—with no real closure, no answers. And he’s off fucking some pogue.”

“It’s not like that,” He scoffed, pointing a finger in your direction as he took a few steps back, "Don't drag Sofia into this.”

His posture screamed defensiveness, and all you could think was how much you hated the way he said her name. It made you want to throw up, it felt like someone was taking a rusty nail and dragging it down your spine. 

He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.

"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”

You were the one who had been there through all his bullshit, you were the one who held him together when everything in his life was falling apart. Now, suddenly, she was the one he spoke about softly. Like she mattered.

It was insulting. 

“Guys!”

Lily stepped between you both, throwing her hands up as if she were separating two wild animals about to rip each other apart.

“Please, please calm down. Rafe, I think you should leave. Now."

He looked like he wanted to say more, you knew he had a million things screaming at him beneath the surface, but for once, he stayed silent. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was there, or maybe he finally realized you weren’t going to bite into his bullshit excuses and provocations.

Whatever it was, he took a step back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, storming past Lily and out of the room.

You could hear the distant sound of the door slamming as he left.

The moment he was gone, you felt your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your pulse racing.

Lily turned to you; her face full of concern. She reached out and grabbed your shoulders gently.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soothing, “Breathe. Just breathe.”

You pressed a hand to your chest, your breath hitching. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his kid, and this was what you got in return.

No peace. No calm. 

Your chest tightened, your vision blurring.  

“Hey, hey,” She cooed again, her hands on your arms, grounding you. “You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Just breathe, okay?”

You couldn’t believe you’d let it get this far—couldn’t believe you were even in this situation.

There was no way you were having his kid.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even have to think about it. The decision had been made the second he’d defended her and insulted you like you were sidewalk littering.

Tomorrow, you’d take care of it. You’d book the appointment and that would be that. Clean break, no more ties to Rafe Cameron, no more staying in that fucked up twisted cycle with him.

“I really think you need to sit down and breathe for a second. You’re scaring me sweetheart, and honestly, this isn’t good for you.”

Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.

Your designer dress clung to you in all the wrong ways, as if even the fabric could understand the order going changes in your body. 

“Whoever let him in, I want them fired.”

You spat suddenly gaining momentary strength to ruin lives. It wasn’t just a demand; it was an execution order. 

The quiet threat of it was more terrifying than your screaming would have been. 

Tomorrow, you’d make sure this nightmare ended before it could begin. 

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