#The only thing that's keeping me from doing that right now is the fact that this person who is slowly making things better for me DOES CARE

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Okay, so, the ask about yandere platonic dick cheating and how the reader would react has me wondering; what would happen if the reader somehow found out that Dick didn't actually change and decided to go no contact, because they couldn't trust him or maybe because they just don't want to be around someone like that? Would that cause Dick to spiral more? What exactly would be the consequences of going no contact? (Like a complete cut off, although it'd be a bit hard to do that since they live in the same house)

(I was a bit disappointed to read that he probably wouldn't change, but it seemed realistic to me because habits are hard to break and everyone in the batfam is messed up. Although, I imagine after years of therapy or something similar there might be some sort of change. But, I doubt anyone in the batfam is getting therapy... except maybe reader)

Sorry yeah, i don't like to think Dick is actually a cheater or this shitty. I just like to humor different scenarios i get requested. But you cannot deny that this man is a messy whore. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVILLL

context

Look, cheaters are so sloppy. Even the ones who put the most effort into it are always bound to slip up. I imagine batsis isn't a fool. Like Richard...no way did you just go from being a serial cheater to suddenly being completely cleansed. You're an addict baby boy.

Like i said at first he's actually wanting to get clean for his baby sis and to be a good role model. I think it'd be very obvious to you that he's actually trying. He's irritable and really struggling to cope with the fact he has to put the phone down. You can see him obsessively checking his phone for what you'd assume to be a message or notification from one of his hookups. You can tell he's torn up about loosing his partners because he came clean about his unethical practices....

There's no hiding. This is such a deep seeded issue and it is really taking a toll on him. This is something like you said will need YEARS of therapy to fix.

So now Dick is trying to bullshit you a few days later...right in front of your salad! He's just sooo happy and he's proud about this new leaf turned????? Yesterday he looked like he was about to breakdown in tears because he'd been abstinent for just 48 hrs...and now he's glowing???

Dick, your patrol ended at 2 am last night...you came home at 6 am...please don't play with me rn.

not me getting heated. lol

He doesn't explicitly tell you he's back to his old ways. He's willing to keep lying his way into keeping you and this habit but it's undeniable. You know that his gf only forgave him because he lied to her too. It makes you sick when you saw the text of him telling her that he's busy with family and then left out for the rest of the day to go be with someone else.

Maybe you explode on him about it? Last time you were as nice as you could be about it but you cannot deal with the games anymore.

I liked to think in this scenario you're yelling at him and he's just still gas-lighting you, He throws every card to make you feel bad for accusing him. It absolute drives you mad. He's just so calm while you're are trying not to strangle him.

"Baby bat, i love you. I think you're just tired and are imagining things. You're convincing yourself that i'm still the old Dick because you're hurting...i understand and I forgive you. Maybe we should set up therapy sessions to help you let go of the past? Hmm?"

"YOU MOTHER FU-"

Ugh but i love him he's so fucked

The irony of him suggesting you therapy when he's the one riddles with mommy issues and the most insane coping mechanisms...

Dick isn't going to allow you to go no contact. You cannot go no contact with someone you live in the same house with. You are bound to interact and when you are dealing with someone like dick...it just won't work. The bat kids are extremely resilient and are well versed in making someone crack. You wouldn't be the exception.

More realistically you'd probably just be cold towards Dick. That's the best you can do. Not really responding to him and basically stone walling...

But i imagine this version of Dick to be much more forceful. He's done with your self righteousness. How dare you suggest moving out. That isn't an option because he needs to see his baby sister everyday. You are breaking up the family over this. You cannot cut him off because he's flawed...it's not that serious y/n. None of the other siblings are breathing down his neck. Maybe if you weren't so frustrating..he could actually become a better person. You are the one that is preventing him from being better with all your pressure!!

You packed your bags and are fully ready to walk out of this family for good because there's just too many wrong doings swept under the rug and here comes dick who is FUMING... He's trying to rip your bags out of your hands and grab you up..

You are not doing this to him. Stop being so-

Maybe your siblings step in and help you to leave. They help Dick calm down because they respect that it's your choice to live how you'd life.

Dick isn't stopping once you're gone. Especially if you're still in Gotham. There's a shadow that follows you where you go. Tons of messages and calls from unknown numbers. Even scarily enough..a blue toy bird left at your door with a small note that read

"Missed me, my little birdie? We'll be seeing each other again soon."

[mysteria157]

Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika | JJK Masterlist

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.

[jinhyun]

—catalyst.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, pining, non-idol au, best friend’s little brother au

word count: 5.4k

summary: when your best friend points out how there seems to be something more than just a platonic friendship going on between you and hyunjin, you couldn’t help but start questioning everything you’ve been doing together so far.

a/n: and we finally get y/n’s pov!! (and a little bit of hyunie’s as always lol can’t help myself). there is a lotttttt of overthinking on her end so please go easy on her, she just got hit by facts she hadn’t thought twice about before (thank u chan).

if anyone comes across this in the tags, this is part 15.2 of a social media series called heart out! you can read it as a stand-alone but i wouldn’t recommend it since there are a lot of references to the previous parts of the story.

as always i hope you all enjoy! if you do, please let me know your thoughts on it<3

When you woke up that day, you never would’ve expected to end up with so many unanswered questions by the end of it.

It was supposed to be a normal day — a great one, actually. You were having lunch at the Hwang’s household, and that itself was enough to make you happy as ever.

It had been a while since you’d last seen Hyunjin and Yeji’s parents, let alone shared a meal with them, so you took it upon yourself to get up extra early that morning in order to make some dessert for them —a lemon pie and a chocolate one, as they were Mr. and Mrs. Hwang’s favourites— and still have enough time left to get ready.

Yeji called you out as soon as she and Chan arrived to pick you up, ranting about how it wasn’t necessary for you to bring anything, while you and Chan could only laugh, knowing well enough she was already eyeing the lemon pie and thinking of how many pieces she would have.

What only made it funnier to you was that you knew you’d get a similar reaction from Hyunjin once you met him at his parents’, only he’d be eyeing the chocolate pie instead.

Said and done, as soon as you entered their house and Hyunjin came up to greet you —not without first letting you know just how hurt he was over you sharing a ride with your friends instead of him—, he began to go on about how he told you that you didn’t need to bring their parents any presents, like you said you would after his mother had so generously made you some soup when you were in bed with a fever a week ago. Nevertheless, you could see the way he stole a few glances at the chocolate pie, before offering to take it to the kitchen, while Yeji did the same with the lemon one. You could never get bored with these two.

Their parents, you knew very well by now, were just the same as them. It was clear where Yeji and Hyunjin got their humor and antics from.

You always had a very nice time with them, as they’d always find the right topic to keep the conversation going. But then for some reason your dating life made it to the conversation at one point and Mingyu was brought up by their mother asking you about the ‘handsome young man’ they met a couple of times; and somehow that alone would be the catalyst that set off a series of events that ultimately left you questioning your entire relationship with Hyunjin later that night.

“So you are definitely not getting back together with him?” Their mother asked at last, once the whole ‘Mingyu lore’, as Yeji called it, had been covered.

“Um…” you hesitated, eyes unconsciously locking with Hyunjin next to you, before you looked for Yeji, who was in front of him. “No, we’re not”.

“Oh, dear” she lamented. “What he did was such a shame, the two of you certainly made a very nice couple”.

“You heard how he turned out to be an asshole, though” Yeji pointed out, taking the words from Hyunjin’s mouth and inevitably having him and Chan nod in silent agreement.

“It’s a good thing you’re moving past him” their father chimed in this time.

You nodded, giving him a gentle smile. You were trying your best, for sure.

“His parents must be devastated” Mrs. Hwang lamented again, bringing your attention back to her.

This time, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “I mean, I got along really well with them, but I wouldn’t go as far as to think they’re devastated”.

“Losing a daughter-in-law as beautiful and attentive as you…” she explained, bringing some heat to your cheeks that you tried to play off by taking a sip of water. “The two of you would’ve made such beautiful children”.

The water you were drinking didn’t follow the path down your throat it should’ve at the sound of her statement, and you inevitably ended up choking on it.

“Yah, mum” Hyunjin called her out, gently patting your back as you tried to catch your breath. “Can we not mention children and her ex in the same sentence?”

“Right, sorry” she apologised, handing you a napkin and giving you a soft smile before her eyes focused on her husband; ignoring the way Hyunjin’s hand remained unconsciously drawing small circles on your back until you were able to breathe normally again. “But just imagine if we had that kind of genes in the family”.

“Did she just call us ugly?” Yeji frowned, locking eyes with Hyunjin, who couldn’t help but chuckle instead of acting offended like his sister — in his eyes you were on a whole other level of beauty after all.

“Honestly though, even I feel offended now” Chan butted in. “I don’t recall you wanting my genes this bad”.

“They met you when we were already a couple, she probably would’ve tried to bribe you too otherwise” Yeji let him know with a cynical laugh, having you all follow right after.

“Trust me, she’s already pictured how cute your children will be” Mr. Hwang let the couple know.

“Can we not?” Yeji pleaded with red cheeks this time. Chan, on the other hand, could not let the opportunity to tease her pass, poking her cheek and repeating in a squeaky voice just how cute their kids would be. “Back to the topic of Y/N’s genes, please” she begged.

“Jeez! Thanks, best friend” you ironically said amidst an incredulous laugh, earning a finger heart and an obnoxious smile from her in response.

“My point was,” their mother resumed her previous train of thought. “Now that Y/N’s single, I’m kind of wishing we had an older son. Imagine how beautiful their children would be if she became a Hwang”.

Well, that certainly felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right at Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin’s right here, though?” Chan pointed out before the youngest could begin to get lost in his —quite angsty— thoughts. “They’re both in their twenties, I’d say there’s hope for Y/N to become a Hwang”.

And maybe, if you weren’t too busy kicking Chan under the table, you would’ve noticed the shy smile curving up Hyunjin’s mouth, as well as his slightly rosy cheeks as he looked down to his still nearly untouched food.

Maybe if Yeji wasn’t too busy laughing at her boyfriend after getting hit and ever so poorly trying to comfort him, she would’ve noticed her brother being all flustered, too.

But, thankfully for him, his parents did. And that was enough for them to nod their heads in silent understanding.

That was the last comment they made about your dating life that afternoon, having no trouble directing the topic once again towards Chan and Yeji’s relationship instead.

You, on the other hand, although had managed to do a pretty good job at following whatever topic was brought up for the rest of the meal, could not seem to let Chan’s comment go.

It was out of place. Way out of it. What did Hyunjin have to do with it anyway? Like, yes, they were talking about you becoming a Hwang and, yes, he was the only son they had, but that didn’t immediately make him an option?

He was three years younger than you. He was only seventeen and still in high school when you met, whereas you were in your second year of university. It felt wrong to even think about it. And it was even worse considering that there was a reason his mum had explicitly mentioned her wish to have an older son instead of pushing you towards Hyunjin right away. It didn’t seem right for them either, as far as you could tell from what had just gone down.

Which is why you couldn’t let it go. Not even after you and Hyunjin got back to your place, like you had agreed to earlier that day when you decided to share a car with Chan and Yeji instead of him, and he wasted no time to secure his much needed alone time with you once you were done at his parents’.

You’d excused yourself to the kitchen to make some popcorn while Hyunjin was comfortably resting on your couch as he looked for any romcom movie to watch while he sipped on the hot chocolate you made as soon as you got home, and you took those few minutes away from him to text Chan and ask for an explanation.

And, God, did you get one.

You re-read the conversation over and over after he went offline, unable to understand where the hell had it all come from.

“He’s 23 now”.

“You may have met when he was 17 but he’s an adult now”.

“Considering what’s currently going on between the two of you”.

“I’m just trying to make you see and actually consider all your choices”.

“Hyunjin is not a little boy anymore”.

Every single text, hitting harder than the other.

Of course he was no longer a little boy. He stopped being one a long time ago, you weren’t stupid. But he was still Hyunjin, Yeji’s little brother. Nothing would ever change that.

You were supposed to care for him just like she did, to be there for him and protect him when the time came. He wasn’t supposed to be ‘a choice’ for you like any other guy could.

He was Hyunjin, the teenage boy who hardly talked to you the weekend you first met and would stutter almost every time he did, and who would so shyly let you and Yeji know dinner was ready whenever you stayed at theirs after that.

Hyunjin, the high school student you’d give some advice regarding the university admission test and applications throughout his last year of it, and whose graduation you attended later on.

Hyunjin, who made it to your university and would constantly ask for your help in his assignments, regardless of him having chosen a completely different major; and who you’d constantly check up on to make sure he was doing okay in his first year of it.

Hyunjin, who held you tight as ever the night Mingyu left you, and refused to go home like Yeji told him it was okay for him to until he was sure you were sound asleep and no longer crying, which didn’t happen until way past four in the morning.

Hyunjin, who would text to check up on you every single day after your breakup, even if it meant getting very short, cold answers from the heartbroken and detached persona that had taken over your body the following weeks.

Hyunjin, who included you in his New Year’s Eve plans and kept you company the entire weekend Yeji and Chan were away.

Hyunjin, who made it known he missed being as close as you once got to be years ago and took the lead to propose picking up where you left off.

Hyunjin, the man who had spent the entire past month making your days better by simply texting or showing up at your place — being there for you even when you didn’t need him to.

Had you really missed how much he was there for you? When was it that the roles reversed and he started to look after you instead?

You jumped when the microwave started beeping, letting you know the popcorn was ready. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you rushed to pour the popcorn into a bowl before making your way back into the living room.

Hyunjin’s head snapped in your direction, unable to hide his smile as soon as he saw you.

You gulped, trying your best to calm your heartbeats down before you took a seat next to him right as he placed the now empty mug on the coffee table. Maybe you should’ve texted Chan later that night, when Hyunjin was back at his place and you wouldn’t have to face him right away after being hit with so many questions.

“I was like one minute away from going over there to see what was taking you so long” he confessed.

“Just making us a small snack” you smiled cutely, shaking the bowl in your hands to make your point.

“I’m pretty sure popcorn takes like three minutes to make in the microwave,” he pointed out, shoving a single one into his mouth. “You took like seven”.

You scoffed in amusement. “Did you set a timer or something?”

“No, but I watched three whole movie trailers,” he admitted, earning a breathy laugh from you. “And that without counting the minutes I spent scrolling through movies to watch. I’d say you took at least ten minutes, actually”.

“Did you miss me that much to actually count the minutes?” You couldn’t help but joke.

“Well, yes” he answered with no hesitation, and no signs of joking either; very unfortunately for your already shaken up heart. “I told you earlier that I hadn’t seen you all week and wanted to spend time with you”.

“We’ve been together nearly all day” you reminded him sweetly.

“Not alone, though” his words made you feel warm inside, like they seemed to be doing a lot lately. “It’s not the same”.

“Sorry,” you pouted, and that was enough for him to melt. “I got kinda caught up texting and… here, I’ll just leave my phone on the table so we’ll just focus on the movie”.

Placing your phone next to his on the coffee table in front, you leaned back against the sofa, tilting your head up towards the TV, so he’d hit ‘play’ and you could get started on your movie night.

When five seconds went by and he didn’t move an inch, you focused your eyes on him instead.

“Hyunie?” You called him, moving your hand in front of him to pull him out of his thoughts and smiling once you did. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, um, I just…” he struggled, having his eyes going back to your phone. “Was it work related? Like, was it… was he…”

“I was talking to Channie” you clarified when you got what was going through his mind. “Don’t be silly now, you really think I’d spend ten minutes of my life texting my ex boyfriend?”

“I mean, you guys have a project together now, so…”

“Still, we can just get it over with by email” you stood your ground. “I only spend that long texting people I actually enjoy talking to”.

He smiled, happy to know you would usually spend that amount of time texting —if not more— and, therefore, he was one of those lucky ones you enjoyed talking to.

Beaming after that realisation, and with the possibility of you talking to your ex out of the way, he grabbed the remote and pointed it to the TV.

“Is this one okay?” He asked, motioning towards the title ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ displayed on it.

You nodded quite effusively. “What are you waiting for, it’s one of my favourites”.

He bit his lip, but not even that was enough to hide the wide smile taking over his face as he leaned back against the couch as well and finally hit ‘play’. Of course he knew you loved that movie. He wasn’t choosing one only he enjoyed after all, and maybe knowing you’d get happy about it was the reason he ended up going with this particular one.

To be fair, he knew he’d spend half of the movie looking at you instead anyway. It was quite cute how you wouldn’t notice, being way too immersed in the plot you must’ve watched a hundred times by now.

Every now and then, he would reach for the popcorn at the same time as you, with the mere intention of his fingers faintly touching yours, but by the third time they touched and he got no reaction from you, he decided he wanted more — having your fingers touch without you noticing was not enough.

So, he slid slightly down the sofa, just enough for his face to be on the same level as yours, and then he rested his head on your shoulder.

That, you noticed. Hyunjin realised by the way your body tensed up under his touch.

And, for a moment there, he considered sitting up and going back to his previous position, hating the thought of his proximity making you feel uncomfortable; but you greatly surprised him by leaning your head on his before he could do so, silently letting him know right then that you did in fact enjoy being this close to him.

In the end, he had nothing to worry about when it came to touching you, for you had made it clear a while ago that it didn’t bother you. But, then again, he wasn’t sure whether you were only enduring it or actually enjoyed it. He didn’t know which touches were okay and which ones were crossing the line. And the thing was, so far, you enjoyed every single kind of physical contact he had tried with you. They were all brief, innocent even, sweet.

Him leaning his head on your shoulder hadn’t made you tense up because he crossed some kind of line, but because, unknown to him, your head was a complete mess right then. Unable to let your previous conversation with Chan go, you were now questioning the meaning behind this small action of his.

“Considering what’s currently going on between the two of you”.

Was this what he meant by that? You and Hyunjin being this kind of close?

This was the first time he rested his head on your shoulder out of all the times you’d been sitting down on your couch just like this, and now you couldn’t tell whether you were overthinking too much because of your friend’s words, or whether you would’ve started overthinking just the same regardless of it.

Yes, he had held your hand before, but it was an act for the hotteok lady not to feel ashamed after thinking the two of you were a couple.

Yes, you had cuddled through the night on this very couch, but it was only because you passed out without either of you noticing.

Every other ‘major’ touch you shared had an excuse behind it. Hyunjin lying his head on your shoulder, however? It didn’t have one. He just felt like it, wanted to be close to you. And ultimately you ended up giving in and resting your head on his simply because you felt like it, too. It felt nice. Regardless of the mess going on in your head, you wanted to be close to him, too.

Was it even an overthinking matter anyway? Friends did this all the time, right? Both you and Chan used to do it a lot before you and Mingyu started dating. You and Yeji still did it a lot, too, up to this day. Why did it suddenly feel different with Hyunjin?

Damn you, Bang Chan. You certainly didn’t need this right now.

Once again, your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. This one was softer than your microwave’s beep, though, more like a buzz coming from one of the phones on the coffee table. Considering your phone wasn’t on silent mode right then, you knew it was Hyunjin’s.

“Your phone just buzzed” you let him know when he wouldn’t budge.

“Leave it” he replied simply, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What if it’s important?” You wondered.

He sighed, already giving in — as easily as he always did when it came to you. “I’m too comfy, can you pass it to me?”

You nodded in a second, unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped your mouth when you leaned over to grab his phone and he followed your movement, as he refused to lift his head from its comfortable spot on your shoulder.

Just as you were back in your place and about to hand him his phone, though, its screen lit up, letting you see a single message from Dahye.

As soon as you saw it, you panicked, practically shoving the phone into Hyunjin’s hands.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have read that” you apologised, shamefully looking away.

Hyunjin frowned, sitting up in clear alert before he could check what you were talking about. His eyes opened wide once he read Dahye’s text and he immediately realised what it must’ve looked like to you.

It was a simple question: “Are you coming over tonight?”

No hello, no ‘Hyunjinie~’; just straight to the point, which couldn’t help but lead you to wonder whether texts like this and him going over to her place at night were an usual occurrence by now.

Hyunjin had told you all about her at New Year’s Eve. From how they kissed when he was drunk to how she wouldn’t leave him alone even years after it happened. He told you it was one sided, that he was tired of her constant insistence. But then why did that one text from her make it seem like that wasn’t precisely the case?

Unlike him, you hadn’t read Han’s message following Dahye’s, for it had just been delivered when he checked his phone right then. You hadn’t read the one message that gave the whole context to Dahye’s obscure text.

“She means to the pregame,” he was fast to clear up. “Han just texted me and apparently we’re going to a noraebang tonight and pregaming at Haeun’s. Dahye’s staying with her, so…”

You nodded, feeling like you weren’t in the place to say anything. It was his life, after all. He could be with whoever he wanted. He didn’t owe you any explanations. Fuck, did you want any explanations?

You didn’t know if you were feeling embarrassed for reading a text message that was supposed to be private, or if you were upset over the idea that Chan had just planted in your head being tainted not even an hour later.

Maybe you’d been thinking too much over something that wasn’t even there, being influenced by your best friend and what he thought was going on between you and Hyunjin. Maybe it was nothing after all.

But you couldn’t deny that you did feel quite uneasy over her text.

Were you upset that she was talking to him? Were you upset they were possibly hooking up? Was it being about Hyunjin you were upset about? Or were you just upset over how much the scene playing right in front of you resembled the times you’d just started questioning Mingyu’s relationship with Hayun while you were still together?

The times you’d catch the suspicious text messages popping up on his notifications, how nervous he would get and how he would start to throw excuse after excuse for you to believe he had nothing to do with her… You knew this feeling all too well, and you hated that you were feeling it again, with Hyunjin of all people, when you were not even together, you had no feelings for him as far as you knew, and, most importantly, you knew he was nothing like Mingyu at all.

And yet, here you were, feeling the goddamn lump in your throat you had felt one too many times by now because of a guy.

“Y/N?” He brought you back to reality. He looked worried. “I promise it doesn’t mean what it looked like”.

You had to hold back the hopeless laugh that threatened to escape your mouth at the sound of his words.

Words you had heard and decided to let pass way more times than you were proud of, and which brought you right back to the downfall of your last relationship.

You didn’t know which one of your concerns had to do with the trauma of your past relationship and which ones were actually related to the current situation you had just found yourself in.

When did it all stop being about Mingyu and it started being about Hyunjin?

“It’s okay” you gave him the most genuine smile you could give him, to let him know you were alright. Still, he didn’t look convinced. “You should get going, though”.

“I mean it, though” he pushed it when he could tell you weren’t convinced. “You can go through the t—”

“Hyunie,” you cut him off, this time with a soft chuckle. “It’s okay. I believe you”.

Did you?

“But apparently there is a pregame taking place in a bit, so you should get going”.

“You don’t even know at what time it is” he pouted.

“It’s a little past seven right now,” you pointed out, checking the time in your phone. “I’m guessing at seven thirty? Eight at most?”

Looking down to the group chat with his friends and realising you were right, he only made his pout more prominent.

“Am I right?” You wondered with a teasing smirk.

“Yes…” he let out a defeated sigh.

When you laughed triumphantly, he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go yet” he mumbled.

“You have to if you wanna make it in time with your friends”.

“I can always just skip pregame” he suggested, then sitting up again and looking at you with a mischievous smile. “Or skip night out as a whole”.

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin” you scolded him. “You are not pulling a New Year’s Eve stunt on me again”.

“A New Year’s Eve stunt?” He wondered rather amusedly.

“You know, when you said you’d only stay with me until midnight and then ended up not going back to your friends that night” you explained.

“This is different, though. We had plans before”.

“Staying on the couch watching movies with me can’t even compete with going out with your friends”.

“No, you’re right” he nodded. “It can’t compete because staying in with you would win every time”.

“Hyunjin…” you tried your best to sound stern and not melt over his words. “Go”.

“But…”

“I’m not letting you skip yet another night out with your friends because of me”.

“Come with me then?” He asked with puppy eyes.

You were quick to look away, knowing well enough you would fall for his charms otherwise. “I’ll have to pass this time”.

“Is it because of Dahye?” He carefully wondered, taking your following silence as a yes. “We can skip pregame and then I’ll tell my friends to make up some excuse for her not to join us at noraebang”.

“Hyunjin,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t have to do that, just go have fun with them”.

“But I wanna be with you” he pouted once more.

“Hyunie…” it sounded like you were begging by now. “The movie’s about to end anyway”.

“And we were supposed to watch another once once it did” he reminded you, later allowing a taunting smirk to curve up his lips when a certain idea made it to his head. “Are you so set on making me leave right now because you’re afraid you might not want me to leave at all if I stay any longer?”

You snorted, playfully yet gently poking his forehead. “Someone’s gotten a little too cocky, don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong, though?” He pushed it. “Do you really want me to go?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want me to go?” He repeated.

“Your friends—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you” he cut you off. “You have this really bad habit of always avoiding my questions, you know?”

You found yourself lowering your head, feeling oh-so-little under his piercing stare.

Although Hyunjin loved seeing you nervous because of him and it was a very rare occurrence coming from you, right then, he wanted your eyes on him. So, placing two fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back to his eye level — both of you only realising how close you actually were when your eyes met.

“It’s a simple yes or no question” he specified, gently removing a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me to go?”

“No” you answered truthfully this time.

He smiled brightly.

“But—BUT,” you emphasized before he could celebrate, leaning slightly back and lifting your index finger for him to pay attention. “Like I said, I’m not letting you bail on your friends again, there will come a time they’ll get tired of it. You deserve to let loose and have some fun only with them”.

“But we were supposed to hang out today…”

“And we did?”

He frowned, clearly not happy with your answer.

“Come onnn,” you tried your best to convince him. “We’ll hang out again tomorrow anyway”.

“We will?” He perked up instantly, enough to make you feel shy all over again.

“I mean, if you want to, of course…” you corrected yourself. You had really become that used to seeing him both days every weekend now for it to be more of a given, huh?

“I believe it’s pretty clear by now that I always want to hang out with you”.

You tried to hold back a smile — needless to say, your efforts were miserable. “Okay then, we’ll see each other tomorrow”.

“Okay,” he smiled, satisfied with your new plans. “Let’s go out this time, since staying in is too boring for you now”.

“When did I ever say that?!”

“When you said that this,” he motioned around your place. “Wasn’t competition for a night out”.

“That is so not what I meant?” You argued.

“Still,” he laughed, eyes softening when they locked with yours. “I’m taking you out for lunch, okay?”

You smiled timidly, nodding your head. “Let’s see if you’re not too hungover first. Might have to end up taking care of you instead”.

“Now I might get blackout drunk just to have you taking care of me tomorrow”.

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hide your amusement as you looked away. “Never mind, I will be sending either Yeji or your mum instead”.

“I’m joking, I’m joking” he laughed, looking for your eyes to lock with his again and gently grabbing your hands that were resting on your lap. “I’ll behave. Just let me take you out for lunch tomorrow, hm? Just us two”.

Staring down at your hands in his warm, soft ones, you couldn’t help but get invaded with more questions than answers.

It felt nice… being touched by him felt nice. Being close to him as a whole made you feel all warm inside. And he was right when he joked about you being scared you wouldn’t want him to leave at all if he stayed any longer, because truth was you already didn’t. You wanted him to stay, as close as you were minutes before.

Was it okay for you to be this close? Both physically and also emotionally? To the point of talking every single day and finding a way to see each other more than you saw your own best friends?

Did you enjoy his touch so much because it came from him? Or was it because you missed being touched?

Was he like this with everyone else? With Dahye? Anyone else at all? Did he treat you differently from them? Or was he just a flirty person and what you were now considering to be some kind of special treatment was just him acting the same as he did with every other girl?

Were you beginning to fall for him? Had you really been that oblivious to your own feelings? Or were you just looking too much into it now because of Chan’s influence, and mistaking a platonic —and rather strong— connection for something more?

Would Yeji be okay with it?

Too many questions were invading your mind, one right after the other, and you couldn’t find a single answer to any of them just yet.

However, although you didn’t know what you were feeling and were unsure about what demons were from your past and which ones were new, you did know one thing for sure: You were never as happy as when you were with him.

So, with a soft smile and a nod of your head, pushing any other thought for later tonight when you went to bed, you said the only thing you could answer to his request right then. “Okay”.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin @shyshyshytwice @nicoleparadas @​broken-glowsticks

[themeraldee]

Mark Me Yours

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 4.6k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Biting. Established Relationship. Mild Pain Play. Cunnilingus. Fingering (with gloves on).

Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #16: Biting

Amongst the buzz of some vague Halloween music and constant chatter, Homelander is impatiently looking around the room. As an annual treat, Vought organizes a Halloween-themed party for their shareholders, ambassadors and any and all influential people that get easily swayed by expensive champagne and an impressive catering spread. 

The one person not impressed is Homelander himself. 

He’s had his fill of schmoozing and brown-nosing at Madelyn’s behest. By now he’s just looking for an excuse to leave. He’s not one to indulge in partying like the rest of the Seven. Looking at the state of them leaves him with a bitter feeling. There they are being more rambunctious than ever while he’s the only one who’s trustworthy enough to actually get the job of upselling and marketing done right.

While it’s dressed as a fun party, Vought doesn’t do things for fun. It’s a thinly veiled attempt at getting all the powerful people in the room to spend more money and sign onto more superhero-led campaigns in their fields. Really, to Homelander it’s a waste of fucking time. There are so many better things he could be doing. But no. He’s stuck having to sweet talk every C-suite level person in the room.

And while part of him wishes he could just relax and kick back like the rest of them he just as much scoffs at the childish Halloween costumes the rest of his team came in. Before the party even broke out, Deep thought it would be funny to come dressed in one of those terribly cheap polyester Homelander costumes all the pathetic lowlifes wear on this day of the year.

Pfft. As if they could ever understand the burden that comes with wearing the suit. Neither, really, could Deep. That’s why one look was enough to get through even his thick and algae-infested skull that if he doesn’t change out of the suit there won’t be a body to dress up for the party. 

With an exasperated shake of his head he looks for you. He comes into these parties with decent energy, soaking up the applause and the adoring words but very quickly the praise turns sour when he feels just how empty and vapid each executive he talks to comes across as. They don’t actually care for his attention. They just want to wring him dry for more cash and fame. You’re the only one who’s managed to keep his usually soured high going. Your look doesn’t turn vacant, instead there’s a real person behind those eyes. One that’s his. One that adores him and is his to adore. 

So where the hell were you anyway? Your presence is what makes him tolerate the insipid crowds these days. Besides the fact that he gets to be with you and show you off to the world, he happily uses your name as an excuse to get out of conversations that just about manage to reach levels of stupidity and numbness that even his media-trained smiles and nods can’t keep him looking interested.

Fucking Halloween. What a stupid holiday, he thinks. Homelander slides his tongue over the fake plastic vampire fangs you insisted he wears throughout the night. As if he’s a child that has to partake in the “festivities”. As if it wasn’t enough that he’s gracing everyone here with his effervescent presence. Surrounded by cameras he has no choice but to keep up his flawless smile, now tainted with the silly prop.

And really at this point he’s getting less annoyed and more worried. You promised you’d show up. And while the party is in full effect you’re still nowhere to be seen. Homelander steps a little to the side, removing himself from as much of the chatter and music as he can, instead listening carefully, honing in on the familiar pitter patter of your heart. Only outpaced by the clicking of your heels as you rush across the stone flooring.

Tsk, late as always. 

Not even a minute later you make your way through the open door, immediately looking around for him. Homelander watches you try to calm down your rush as you finally settle your eyes on him. You’re smoothing down your dress and calming your breath. He leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow and with a lifted gloved finger he motions for you to come close.

Thank god you’re finally here. Just the sight of you is enough to release the tension in his shoulders. Relieved that there’s finally someone who he doesn’t have to pretend in front of. 

And what a sight you are. Dressed to the nines, a gorgeous classy black evening dress that fits your body perfectly.

He would know, it’s one of the many he handpicked for you. 

Looking at you now he can’t deny that he’s got impeccable taste. His keen eye is good when it comes to picking clothing that dresses your figure in a flattering way. Not just any dress would do, it always has to be perfect.

Until he actually notices the little band of cat ears across your head that has him recall the very long-winded argument—or an exchange of opinions as you liked to call it—about the importance of dressing up appropriately during any festivities you come to be a part of.

“Look who finally showed up. I was beginning to think you stood me up.” He flashes you a grin, letting the fangs exaggerate the sharpness of his smile. 

You stutter through your answer, caught off guard, and instead of defending your tardiness you change the conversation. Homelander watches as your eyes widen in surprise, locking on the way he slides his tongue over the pointy ends. The shiver that runs through you doesn’t escape him either. Well… isn’t that interesting. 

“Oh my god—I didn’t think— you’re actually wearing them!” Almost comically you put your hand over your mouth in shock and he takes the time to properly look you up and down. In your initial shock you let him in on not one, not two but three secrets. 

From the gasped breath and the excited shiver running down your body he deduces that your earlier adamant begging to have him dress up was for an entirely different indulgence. 

His second surprise upon checking you up and down was the lack of any undergarments. Not that he wouldn’t be able to look through the flimsy bits of fabric as well but the lack of them certainly inspires a mood. 

And the third secret your body lets him in on is just how much you enjoy the sight of his fanged grin. Your thighs rub together but with no fabric to soak into, your slick just squelches in between your legs. A sweet little symphony for his ears only. Maybe tonight won’t be so boring after all. 

If this was the kind of trick or treating he knew he’d be getting he’d have been onboard with the holiday a lot sooner. 

His mouth tugs into a smile but he stops himself, instead tutting and shaking his head.

“Unlike someone, I’m keeping my word.” He rolls his eyes. “After all that hounding you come out in this? So much for dressing up, Mrs Halloween spirit.” He makes a mocking gesture with his hands, waving dramatically over your Halloween costume, if one could call it that.  

“And sweetheart, although you look stunning, your little cat ears definitely don’t count as a costume.” Homelander relishes in the way you swoon under his compliments and attention.

At least someone here understands how valuable it is to have his attention. 

Homelander waves over a waiter, plucking a flute glass off the tray, passing it to you. This breaks you out of your trance and you finally get your words straight.

“Sorry, that’s why I’m late. I had a costume, I swear! Then Ashley needed help with something and then on my way here someone spilled red wine all over my costume, so I had to change. I know it’s not impressive but this was last minute!” 

“Oh, it’s very impressive. Just not very festive of you.” He quotes what you said earlier that evening about his reluctance to wear the stupid Dracula costume you prepared for him.

“If you wanted to come as Catwoman you could’ve worn some swanky latex at least.” 

“Oh no thank you. You’d be peeling me out of that at the end of the night.” And you look cute when you shake your head with that displeased look on your face.

“Who said I won’t be peeling you out of this?” He places his hand on your waist, his glove sliding across the silk of the dress.

“I’m hoping that’s gonna look a little more elegant than the latex suit would.” You lean in, whispering this little secret as if it was just the two of you in the room. You do always make him feel like he’s the only one in the room. Finally, he’s getting the respect he deserves.

“One way to find out.” He graces you with a show of his sharp fangs as he whips out another wide grin. 

It almost wins you over.

But you’re not that easily swayed. And you came here to celebrate Halloween with him. Clearly, he’s not gonna be able to use you as an excuse to leave just yet.

You say just that.

“You can’t leave yet!” You cover your flustered cheeks with a laugh.

Homelander doesn’t give up without a fight, but more importantly there’s nothing he loves more than having an upper hand. “Then why aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

He’s close to leaning you against the wall and boxing you in so you don’t have a chance to get away but he does have appearances to uphold. 

“I—um, I thought I’d keep you motivated to keep your energy up throughout the night.” You’re no stranger to keeping things exciting. Flirting with him is a must and comes naturally. Unless it’s outside the comfort of your home. Then you get all flustered and embarrassed. It’s cute, really. 

“You’re motivating me to leave.” He grumbles and dips his eyes back down your body, making it terribly obvious that he’s not just admiring your dress. 

On the other hand, he’s a better flirt in a crowd. He knows the power that comes with being surrounded by people that adore him and while it’s the comfort in between the two of you that allows that, he takes advantage of being the one who’s seemingly in control. 

“I've barely just arrived!” 

“That's your problem not mine, be punctual next time.”

 “Come on, just another hour. You can manage.”

He rolls his eyes, already beyond fed up with the party. However, he still has a job to do and you take the chance to make your way around the room to make your presence known to other attendees. 

As the time goes on, Homelander catches you looking around for him like a sixth sense tickling the back of his neck and everytime he meets your wandering eyes, giving you a dazzling smile showing off those fake fangs he still puts up with just for you. And each time you look away flustered and move out of his line of sight.

While everyone else is here to kick back, he’s still on duty, actively greasing deals, soft-launching Madelyn’s messaging and repeating the corporate-glazed talking points just to plant the seeds of Vought’s future plans in unsuspecting and mildly inebriated victims. 

The promised excruciating hour later he finally makes his way around the room back to you, pulling you out of the conversation with his media smile aimed at the group. “Sorry folks, you’ll need to excuse my date.” With a hand settling on your lower back, he takes you away into a quieter corner, plucking the empty glass out of your fingers, placing it at a nearby catering table.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not! I just know how busy you are.”

“Right.” He spreads his lips into a wicked smile and he watches as your eyes quickly dart from his eyes to his teeth, not quickly enough for him to miss it. Neither does he miss the way your heart skips a beat.

It’s then he puts his hands on his hips shaking his head with a laugh. “I knew it, you’re into this.” He lifts one hand to wave a gloved finger in your face as if you’ve done something naughty.

“I’m not!” You’re a terrible liar. Homelander just places his hand on your chin as he uses it to tilt your head to one side.

While ignoring your protest he continues. “Is this some sort of Twilight fantasy you’ve got? Want me to bite you here?” 

“What—no!”

He raises his eyebrows, parting his lips as he glides his gloved fingers down your neck with his other hand. As if you were in a secluded bubble he has his eyes firmly set on you, focusing on the hurried beat of your heart. 

Unlike him you fluster. Unable to tune out the sound of the party and the presence of a crowd.

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me!” You squeak out like a little mouse, though your hushed voice makes no difference to Homelander’s keen ears.

While he doesn’t let the topic go, he does let go of your chin, allowing you to straighten up. 

“While I love you very much, I’m not covering myself with glitter.” He chuckles to himself, terribly amused at having found one of your guilty pleasures. “But I can be your super strong and fast vampire if you’d like that.” It’s his turn to turn all hushed and whispered. He talks in a way that he usually indulges in between the sheets yet he can’t resist to see your reaction.

Homelander doesn’t miss the way you shudder at his proposition. He almost melts away your stubborn exterior, but you snap out of the dazed vision and blink your fantasies away. This is not the place.

“Wait, how do you know so much about it? And no, no, it’s not a Twilight fantasy. It doesn’t matter. Does it really need an explanation?” Still continuing with the hushed outrage you pull him with you, backing out of the party hall.

Homelander grins at you widely, purposefully flashing the fangs while you drag him away from the party. You probably think you’re being subtle, trying to blend your bodies in between the incoming crowds. However, his cape alone is as dead giveaway as any. If anyone cared to get his attention at the party they were now keenly aware that he’s left. 

“Nope, not really. I just want to know what’s going on in that fucked up little head of yours.” The lightheartedness that comes with you two prodding one another is not only refreshing; it’s needed. To have someone he can feel like a lovesick teenager with is more important than he expected it to be. 

You act as if you were sneaking away from your parents’ house rather than seeking the quiet comfort of your home.

You secretly make your way down hallways, guiding Homelander behind you.

Even with his hand in yours you reluctantly turn around. The Eurydice to your Orpheus where one look would make him disappear forever. 

He understands the love shared between the two of you. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming it feels like its own living thing. Ever growing. Spreading like mold. Taking over everything that you both are. Be it good or bad. 

When he shuts the door behind the two of you it’s like the rest of the world goes quiet. He can’t stop himself from smiling widely at the sound of your pretty laugh when he spins you in place, clumsily dancing with you across the hardwood floor of his penthouse. 

He didn’t get the luxury of dancing with you during the party so he enjoys the feel of you carefree and against him in the comfort of his personal enclosure.

Neither of you need music to feel the intimate rhythm of your bodies. And really, the party has only just started. Each wrong step results in a giggle and another twirl with which Homelander brings you closer.

The warmth and love Homelander can feel from your laugh is so visceral he needs to taste it. He captures your lips. Simply pressing his against yours. Feeling the vibrations of your giggles against his pursed lips.

Just as he’s parting his lips to deepen the kiss you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. You don’t put any effort into pushing him off, it would be fruitless should you try anyway. 

“Take them out, they’ll get in the way.” You refer to the fangs you’ve been downright drooling over the whole night. Finally. Homelander takes out the prop fangs and tosses them to the side.

With no barriers in the way he devours your lips like he’s been starved for the taste of you all night. He’s drunk on the ease with which you let him take what he wants from you. 

He’s pulling out his best moves tonight. He’s always eager to impress, but tonight especially so. It’s not everyday he finds out about yet another depraved fantasy you’ve been keeping away from him. That alone is a reason to celebrate and pull out all the stops. So if a little innocent vampire roleplay is what you want, a vampire roleplay is what you’ll get. 

Nipping at your lips earns him a moan. His hands gliding up your body cause a shudder. He continues teasing you little by little until your body is begging him to take it further. Your tongue licks over the naturally pointy ends of his canines. His grin stretches wide, dissolving the haze of lust and instead reminding him of what he’s here to do.

He walks you back to the sofa, all the way until your calves hit the upholstering and your knees give in. With a gleeful giggle you fall onto the cushioning. Homelander follows after you, sprawling across your body, still kissing you.

"I can hear your pulse racing..." Homelander breathes out when he pulls away. His eyebrows pinched tight together, acting as if any second away from you causes him pain. 

It doesn’t. But being away from you might as well feel like he’s drowning.

“All that blood rushing…” In a breathy tone he continues. His hands push the straps of your dress over your shoulders. His hands tremble. Wanting to grip and squeeze and push and pull. But the power he’s capable of is always kept tightly locked up. But the desire and the pool of need inside him just begs for him to be inside you, feeling your supple warmth all around him.

But he wants to fulfill your fantasy. He wants to be good for you.

With a moan he drags his tongue starting from your collarbone up the line of your neck. Hungry for the faint taste of you he licks at the tender skin, sucking marks where you won’t be able to conceal them.

He laps his tongue over the junction of your neck and shoulder with the same eagerness he usually devours your cunt with. Now he’s preparing the soft delicate skin of your neck, akin to a surgeon before a procedure. Equally diligent in prepping your skin ready for the incision. Except Homelander wants you to feel the sharpness and warmth of his canines and incisors rather than the cold steel of a surgical scalpel. Your blood rushes to the surface where he’s sucked hickies all over your skin. The temptation to break skin and feel the warmth of your blood is tempting. But alas, he wants you lightheaded with pleasure, not blood loss.

He’s too sucked into his own world. Your blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He doesn’t even manage to slip out another zinger before sinking his teeth into your neck with a needy moan.

Should someone stumble upon you two, it wouldn’t be clear who asked for this roleplay in the first place. 

Homelander’s careful with the pressure he puts into the bite. Even without his super strength he could easily break through your fragile skin. Instead he’s leaving indents and bite marks over your neck that have you whimpering right into each lap of his tongue over the wounded skin.

Attuned to your body’s responses he can feel the way you’re getting off on the contrast of the sharp bites and the dull ache of his languid tongue.

When he’s done with your neck, Homelander pulls away. Eyes hazy with lust. Hands trembling. His heartbeat is so loud it overpowers yours. He slides his tongue over his teeth as if he was licking off your blood. He looks up to meet your eyes and if the sight of you isn’t something out of a dream.

Just as hazed with the thick lust in the air. The smattering of bites is exquisite on a canvas as perfect as you. Your body rises and collapses with each shuddered breath and Homelander wants nothing more than to finish painting your body with his love.

And he does. Tearing and sliding the silk fabric off your body he leaves you bare in front of him. Your choice to omit your underwear gets you rewarded faster. He’s already sucking and biting all over your chest. Swapping for soft kisses anytime you yelp out of painful sensitivity.

Homelander bites wherever his teeth allow to sink into your flesh. Giving them the same soothing treatment with his tongue like he’s done on your neck.

The bites he descends upon your sides make you burst into giggles, temporarily breaking the bubble of the heated tension. With a smile he nuzzles his head into your belly, kissing you with affection all over the exposed skin. While the love he exudes is just as intoxicating, you push his head further down.

“Greedy.” He teases, but he happily slides off the couch, kneeling on the ground right in front of your gloriously spread legs. “Want me to bite you here too?” He easily slides back into his breathy tone as his mouth waters at the smell of your arousal.

After all this time he’s spent getting you worked up with bites and kisses you’re leaking over the couch.

He doesn’t wait for your answer, if you were coherent enough to give it anyway, and instead he licks up your inner thigh. Narrowly avoiding your sopping wet cunt. And while the hypnotizing rhythm of your throbbing clit nearly sucks him in, there’s still plenty of supple flesh he’s yet to sink his teeth into.

Homelander treats your inner thighs with the same respect he’s given your neck. Even though you wiggle underneath his tongue he holds you down. His arm easily pinning your middle down, while his shoulders keep your legs open enough for him to continue.

Here the sensation makes you both whimper from the stinging bites and giggle from the tickling motions of his tongue. Your body continues to serve as a canvas as he litters marks in between your thighs. He lets a few bruises join the mix as he grips your thighs with too much enthusiasm when he dips his head lower to bite another mark higher up the sensitive skin. 

You don’t shy away from the pain either. The contrasting shades of pain he paints across your skin just make your breath stutter, your heart race and your core ache for more.

Homelander is just as strung out. His cock is heavy and aching uncomfortably in the tight confines of his pants but he’s not about to relieve himself. Not when you’re served in front of him like a meal. 

Finally he buries his head into your lap. He licks up a line from your weeping hole to your clit, slurping up as much slick as his tongue can gather. He goes through expressions of content, where he’s eagerly sucking on your clit, and need, where he pinches his eyebrows together, whimpering into your cunt at the feeling of you quivering around his tongue.

And really, he could spend hours in between your legs. Getting handfuls of your ass he pulls you even closer, his tongue now closely and precisely rolling around your clit in a rhythm that has your toes curling and heart pounding. He’s come to know your body as intimately as it gets. The changes in pace are part of his plan. The slow teasing to a fast build-up, letting the feeling of your encroaching orgasm climb up and up your spine until he slows down, dropping the meter down again, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

With the occasional pull to the side where he nips more bites into your inner thighs he has you strung tight, and he’s playing you like a violin. When your moans turn into near sobs at the constant edge he keeps you balanced on, Homelander takes pity on you.

Gathering the slick and saliva, he pushes two thick gloved fingers into you. The drag of the leather glove is not familiar enough to you and you whine at the contact, clenching down on his fingers. Tight enough to nearly stop the glide.

With soft kisses he descends upon your clit, he lets you relax. When your cunt is no longer squeezing his fingers for dear life he drags them in and out while amping up the pressure. The obscene display of you bare to the world and him still dressed in his uniform has you both vocal and shameless.

While he’s already done a fantastic job of licking you open and needy, making you into an even bigger mess than you were before; he’s now fucking you wide open, preparing you for what’s inevitably going to be his cock in a round or two filling out all the space his fingers can’t reach. 

“C’mon, keep fucking me. Harder. Harder. Ye-yes. Yes!” You groan out, your voice all cracked and strained from moaning for so long. 

You grind yourself down on his fingers as much as the space allows. Your fingers pull at his hair while you ride both his face and his fingers to completion. It’s a hard finish, with downright growled words of praise as you chase the high he’s providing you with.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. Fffuuck. Such a good boy, letting me ride your face like that.” You pant in between words, just as eager to give out praise as he is to receive it. 

With an obscene squelch, Homelander pulls his fingers out of you, sucking the leather clean, adding to the already rich taste of you on his tongue. You slide down the couch and lean down to kiss him, and he indulges you in letting you taste yourself on his lips.

Pulling away, you only allow the minimum space apart in between each other. Just like him, you act as if being apart caused you harm. 

“Take me to bed. I want to ride your cock next. Aaand maybe bite you myself.” With a giggle you wrap your hands around his neck. 

“You know you can’t bite me.” With a tilt of his head he kisses the bite marks he’s left behind. Each kiss brings back a little spark of pain making you twitch. 

“I love a challenge.”

“Well I’d certainly love to see you try.” He effortlessly lifts you up from the couch, already carrying you over to the bedroom.

After all the treating he’s done, he’s definitely excited to see some tricks.

So maybe the Halloween celebrations are not so stupid after all.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

[hayakawalove]

Satoru has phone sex down to a science. Every word he utters is perfectly crafted, down to the little, or big, moans he lets out. He has to leave for work often, unfortunately forcing the two of you to take care of your own needs. But he refuses to be left out. Satoru will call you, no matter the time or place, just to hear you. The second he gets that text from you he’s dropping everything to find a secluded place. His words are like honey when he answers the phone, “hello, baby”. They make your spine tingle. And he knows that, too. Knows the way you toss your head back when you let your hands drift down your body, knows the way you dip your fingers in your pussy while you listen to him talk.

He doesn’t even need to be touching himself. In fact, most of the time he doesn’t. Satoru gets off on hearing you more than anything. He tells you how badly he wishes he was there right now. How it should be his long fingers curling up into your cunt, not yours.

Satoru can’t help but match your breathing when you begin to pant. His cock is so hard it hurts, but that’s part of the thrill. He watches a wet patch begin to spread in his pants as his precum seeps from his needy cock. Your moans only add in getting him worked up even more.

Tells you how pretty your pussy is. How wet and tight it is. That he should be there. That you’re being quite awfully mean using your fingers instead of him, instead of his body. Even though there’s no way you could use his body right now.

But oh, how badly he wants that.

How badly he wants to be of service to you. His body was made for yours. Made to please yours. Since he’s not physically there right now, he’ll do the second best thing he can. Let you use his voice to get off.

“How does it feel, baby?”

“Right there? You need me right there?”

“Deeper, honey. Faster.”

“Let it out for me.”

He doesn’t stop until you’re a moaning mess. He keeps going until your legs are shaking and your body is covered in sweat. Satoru hums in response when he hears you settle down, a feeling of victory sprouting in his chest. This would have to do for now, but all bets were off when he gets home.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

This post is coming from me in my space of panic and resignation that I have been in all day, but I just. I felt the need to say anything at all.

Please do what you can to survive. This week, for the next few years, maybe forever. Please do what you can to survive. We cannot give up, we have to remain unified and continue supporting each other. That is all we can do. I don’t know what the future will look like, but we should be prepared to handle anything.

If you are like me, a female, I wish you so much support. With the rights we are about to lose, please keep yourself safe. Look into birth control if you can, especially IUDs or implants, I’ve been doing that myself. Please only surround yourself with people that you know are trustworthy. I’ve seen lots of women saying they’re going to be joining the South Korean 4B movement (not dating, having sex with, marrying, or having children with men), and honestly I encourage it. Even if you’d like to be a mother, it’s not safe anymore. If something goes wrong with your wanted pregnancy, there’s an incredibly high likelihood that you will not be able to receive care. That is a horrific reality, but it’s something we need to be aware of. If you are in a safe, loving relationship I am incredibly happy for you and I wish you the best. If you are not, or if you are single, do whatever you can to get to a safe place, please.

To any of my LGBT+ followers, please remain safe. Please, please, please be careful, with what you say, with who you talk to, with how you present yourself. I can’t even imagine how terrifying things might become, but I don’t want any of you to be ashamed, to stop being who you are. Just please be safe in how you do so. I wish you all so much luck and love because you all deserve to be free to express yourselves, to live as who you are in freedom and not be so heavily judged and prosecuted and punished. Please have safe spaces, and safe people to surround yourself with if you can. This blog will ALWAYS be a safe and inclusive space for you. I see you, and I accept you, and I support you so much. Please take care.

My support goes out to everyone who is about to be effected, because it is about to be more than just women and LGBT+ members, but I wanted to touch on those two specifically because they are the ones closest to me. I love you all. I’m sorry that this is how things turned out, but we need to keep going. We need to stay strong. We need to keep fighting and surviving because they want us to give in and we can’t do that. It might get incredibly tough next year, in the next four years or even longer, but you cannot give them the satisfaction. You have to outlive them, to prove to them that you can survive and that you deserve to be here.

I don’t particularly care if anyone thinks I’m being dramatic about this and I’m not trying to fearmonger. I don’t want anyone to be scared, but I can’t hide the fact that I’m scared. That I don’t know how things are going to look moving forward. But I care about each and every one of you.

Continue living with airport rules right now (doing whatever it takes to get to your destination of the future). He’s not in there yet. We are still safe right now. Please do what you can to prepare and to steel yourself for any outcome. But, for the next couple weeks, please just take care of yourselves. Indulge in activities you love, eat food you love, sleep as much as you can, take care of yourself as much as you can. You are not alone in this. Everyone that voted for her, we are all in this together. We cannot forget that.

I love you all so much. Please be safe. Know that you are not alone. Be strong, and be proud of what you fought for and who you are. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to be who you are.

[nakylvr]

— SÃO PAULO

daniela avanzini (katseye) x fem!reader

summary: going to a rave in the middle of the summer wasn't exactly on your to-do list. but when your best friend dani offers to take you to one, you have a hard time saying no

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, rave setting, drug usage (acid & molly), switch!daniela, switch!reader, semi-public sex(bathroom), oral, fingering, praise

wc: 2,5 k

now playing: são paulo by the weeknd & anitta

minors do not interact

this is pure fiction for fun, do not come at me 🫵 but it is accurate descriptions of the drugs so pls don't do drugs cause i wrote this, i aint responsible for what u do🙏

for the past week, you had been dealing with your best friend, daniela’s, attempts at trying to get you to go out to a party. well, not exactly a party, but a rave. you have no idea how she found out about this, but you didn't care at the same time. you didn't bother asking how she found out that there was a rave on saturday night, knowing she would counter it by saying “so you're interested?” 

so here you are now, sitting in your car in front of the big warehouse, mentally preparing yourself. unfortunately, you ended up giving in to dani’s consistently annoying manner of asking you every day if you were going to go. you couldn't lie and say these environments weren't your thing, because they really weren't. you only came along because you wanted to make sure dani would be okay. but, you didn't say that. with a sigh, you turn off your car and get out, walking up to the door and pushing it open. you're immediately met with bright strobing lights and booming loud music, and your nose scrunches up in discomfort at the sight. this was going to be a long night.

you swerve through the sweaty bodies, thankful you were wearing a short crop top and shorts with how hot it was already growing in there. your eyes wander around the place, trying to find daniela when you suddenly feel arms wrap around you, causing you to jump.

“calm down, ‘ts just me,”

you can barely hear her voice over the music, but you know it's daniela by the way her arms subtly curl around you and pull you closer to her. her words are slurring, and you can smell the alcohol on her.

“‘m glad you came,” she murmurs into your ear. 

“how drunk are you, dani?” you question, trying to ignore her words, but not being able to meet her glossed over eyes. 

“only a little,” she answers, but she’s swaying from side to side, giving a different answer. “c’mon, you need to have some fun, yn,” she pouts at you. “you want something?”

“excuse me?” your eyebrow arches, looking at her now. “dani, i’m not going to drink-” 

“hold your tongue out.”

“what?” you look at her with even more confusion. “dani-” you glance down at what she's holding in her hand, two small pills and two tiny pieces of paper. “oh my god, what else are you on right now?” you hiss out, almost angry. 

“it's just half a tab of acid and the smallest dose of molly possible,” daniela ignores your question about her, telling you what's in her hand. “everyone here is on this shit, you’ll be okay, trust me. ‘s long as you stay with me. ‘m taking it too.” 

your first thoughts are being angry at the fact she was obviously on what “everyone” was on, but the way she's talking to you, saying that you’ll be fine as long as you're with her, the anger fades away. “okay, fine,” you sigh. 

dani smiles at you, taking the pill from her hand and handing it over to you. you take it from her and quickly swallow it before she holds the paper near you.

“hold your tongue out,” she tells you. “it's gonna taste weird, but keep it in your mouth for as long as you can, then swallow it. you’ll feel it within the hour.” 

you comply, holding your tongue out and letting her place the small paper on it. you aren't really listening to what she's saying, too busy trying not to stare at her, your heart racing at the sight of her. you feel the paper touch your tongue as she pulls her hand away, closing your mouth by your jaw, her thumb grazing over your lips. 

“let's have some fun, yeah?” she grins at you, quickly taking both the pill and tab for herself. 

all you can do is nod your head, not trusting your voice to respond. she grabs your hand and pulls you through the bodies, stopping in the middle of the warehouse and smiling at you. 

“you look really good,” she tells you, her eyes shamelessly eyeing you up and down. 

your cheeks grow hot at her gaze on you, averting your eyes from hers. she grabs both your hands, starting to sway around which causes you to do it also, and you're doing your best to not feel like you're gonna panic within the next hour when it kicks in. you know dani has done these things before, seeing as you've had to help her the morning after when she would call you in the early hours saying she was having a bad trip and needed someone. one too many times have you drove over to where she was to pick her up and bring her back to your apartment with her almost nonverbal as she stares wide eyed at every light she sees. yet, here you were, not being the one helping her, but doing it with her. you trust her more than anyone, and you know she wouldn't give you anything that could possibly hurt you, which is enough for you to let your anxieties fade away. 

within a few minutes you find yourself enjoying this. the edm music isn't terrible, and the colorful lights distract you from the crowded environment that you're in. daniela’s eyes haven't left you for one second, and she's asking you every now and then if you're okay, which you just nod, smiling and continuing to dance. 

time flies by quickly, and you can start feeling the weird effects of what you assume is the drugs you were given. your body feels hot, and the lights feel 10x brighter than they were earlier, almost blinding you as you sway around. your back is facing daniela, who is eyeing you with hungry eyes while watching you let go and finally enjoy yourself. she can hardly think with the mixture of alcohol and drugs in her, but all she knows is that she wants you. she's known it for a while now, but didn't want to fuck anything up with you and lose you. she's surprised she hasn't accidentally blurted it out yet on the many times you've taken care of her while she was high. 

her arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you so close that you're pressed against her. she stares at you as you sway to the hyper music, your eyes closed relishing in the feeling of everything. she wants to kiss you so badly, her eyes flickering to your lips every other second when you suddenly turn your head and open your eyes to look at her. 

you smile at her, your arm hooking around her neck, hand grasping her nape as you pull her in to kiss you. dani’s eyes go wide when you kiss her, but she instantly kisses back, her arms tightening around you. your lips feel soft against hers, and she can taste the lipgloss you put on before arriving. you practically melt into the kiss, moaning softly when she manages to pull you even closer. all you can think about is how good her lips feel pressing on yours, and you're desperate for more. you part from the kiss, panting as you rest your forehead on hers, staring into her eyes. 

daniela can barely process what's happening before she realizes you’ve dragged her into the dimly lit bathroom. you close the stall door and push her against it, leaning in and kissing her deeply. she can't stop the little noise that comes from her throat as you do so, a bit embarrassed by her own reaction with her cheeks flushing bright red. she doesn't know what to do, her hands shaking before finding your waist and grabbing you to hopefully ground herself some bit. your hands trail up and down her body, fingers grazing against her skin under the shirt she was wearing, your touch feeling like a burning sensation with the mix of the drugs. 

dani gasps into the kiss, her eyes closing when she feels your hand dip into her jeans and start circling her clit with two fingers, gripping your waist tighter. her head leans back and hits the door with a quiet thud when you pull away from the kiss, her mouth falling open as quiet whimpers come from her. 

“f-fuck, yn,” she whines your name. “more, please,”

you don't respond, instead taking your hand out of her jeans and unbuttoning them, tugging them down her legs onto the floor. you drop to your knees, pushing her legs apart with your face inches away from her dripping core. you stare up at her as you lick up her folds, hearing her gasp and grab your hair. your hands hold her thighs as you slowly push your tongue inside of her and quickly start thrusting in and out of her, moaning at the taste. 

“o-oh my god,” daniela moans, pushing your head further into her. she whines loudly when you switch to suck on her throbbing clit, tugging on your hair. “keep d-doing that- f-fuck!” 

you move one of your hands from her legs, lining two fingers up to her entrance before slipping them into her, causing a loud moan to come from her at the action. her hips start rocking against your fingers as you build a quick pace, long whines and moans falling past her lips as her head leans back against the door. your eyes remain looking up at her, watching the way her face contorts with every movement you make, her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes squeezed closed. 

dani can barely think about anything at this point, except the fact that it feels so good with you finally touching her like this. she’d been craving it for so long, and it was almost overwhelming with the amount of pleasure she was feeling. her chest heaves up and down, breathing heavily as she feels the knot building in the pit of her stomach while grinding against your hand. she isn't even trying to be quiet, her moans echoing in the room without any care. it was feeling too good for her to be quiet, her noises becoming more whiny as she feels herself growing closer to the edge. “fuck, you're gonna make me cum!” she whines. “don-don’t stop- shit- please,” 

you don't say anything, speeding up your fingers and curling them inside her leading her to let out more higher pitched moans at the feeling of you hitting her g-spot. she finally opens her eyes and looks down at you, whimpering at the dark look in your eyes as you watch her come undone before you. her eyes lock with yours, and you curl your fingers again, making her let out a long whine as her eyes roll to the back of her head, cumming on your fingers. 

you slow your fingers to a stop, leaving little licks on her clit before standing up again. you bring your fingers to her lips, which she parts instantly as you put them in her mouth. she moans around your fingers at the taste of herself, gagging lightly when you prod them further into her mouth, her hand grabbing your wrist. you pull them out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting when she suddenly spins you around and presses you against the door, kissing you roughly. you let out a noise of surprise at the sudden action, kissing back as you feel her hands roam up and down your body. 

dani’s hands move under your shirt, fondling one of your tits and smiling at the moan you let out into the kiss. she parts from the kiss, panting through her words. “you're s’ fucking hot,” she mumbles. “be mine, please,” her voice almost sounds pleading as she says this. “please, i’ve been wanting you for s’ long. just-”

your hands cup her face, causing her to stop talking as you smile at her. “of course, dani,” you reply. “i’m all yours.” 

she smiles back at you, kissing you again as her hand trails down your body to under the waistband of the shorts you were wearing. she dips her hand in, pushing your panties to the side and dragging her fingers up and down your wet folds, collecting your wetness on them. “you're so wet,” she murmurs against your lips. without another word, she slides two fingers in you, your walls swallowing around them.

a moan escapes your lips at the feeling, your arms wrapping around her neck and pulling her close to you. parting from the kiss, you put your face in the crook of her neck, moaning into her skin as your hips subconsciously roll against her hand. “fuck, d-dani,” you whimper pathetically. 

“keep makin’ those noises, you sound s’ pretty, mi amor,” daniela mumbles into your ear, thrusting her fingers in you at a steady pace. 

you can't help but whine at her words, clenching around her fingers at the petname she calls you. she slips a third finger in you, stretching you out as you bite down on her neck while moaning. “oh m-my god, dani,”

dani hisses quietly when you bite into her neck, but doesn't stop or even slow down her fingers one bit, her unoccupied hand around your waist holding you against her. she smiles at the way you moan her name, and she wants to hear it more. she needs to hear it more. she didn't think you’d sound this pretty while she makes you feel like you were on cloud nine. “you're so tight around my fingers, fuck,” she breathes out. “mi hermosa niña,” she mumbles affectionately. 

you feel like your head is spinning with the mix of everything you’re feeling. her body feels hot pressed against yours, her touch electrifying as she draws circles on your lower back, her affectionate voice as she talks, her long fingers curling their way inside of you as your mouth is agape with loud noises coming from you. you can't think anymore, the only thing on your mind being how good you’re feeling at the moment. you know someone could come in at any moment, and dani knows it too, which is why she speeds up the pace of her fingers, leaving you whining loudly into her neck. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” 

hearing your whine, daniela curls her fingers in you again, hitting your g-spot with you rocking your hips with more desperation. “cum for me, mi buena niña,” she whispers into your ear, using her thumb to rub your clit quickly. 

your eyes squeeze shut as a scream-like moan leaves your mouth when you cum on her fingers, clenching around her tightly and pulling on her hair. you whimper quietly as she pulls her fingers out of you slowly, not moving your head from her neck as you pant heavily. 

“are you okay?” dani asks you softly, glancing down at you. 

“yeah,” you answer in a mumble. “can we go home?” 

“yeah,” she nods. “i’ll get us an uber or something. i’ll pick up your car here tomorrow.”

“okay,” you say quietly. “i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too,” daniela replies in a second. “let's get out of here, yeah?”

“yeah.” 

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

I just got the 'Alfred is not a good man' vid from tik-tok so I'm a little worried about the fic I've been making but I'm doing some of my deep dive to really know if this is just one person's depiction or opinion about him.

I just got really into Batfamily for like what 2-3 months ago (not including the ones I made long ago those were like one off from just basic understanding of other fics I read).

From what I have gathered which was only two information (for now) was about Alfred's daughter and if Alfred did let the kids become Robins.

In summary his daughter Julia Pennyworth or in another comic Julia Remarque, was the abandoned daughter, She hated/resented Alfred for abandoning her and disgusted that he became a servant of Wayne's which is true BUT in the end though is that both Father and daughter made up after.

and Second is, actually somewhat true I've seen few reddits and blog that have written that in some other comics Alfred did let the batkids become Robin and That's more than enough to know that it was not right BUT according to other versions most of it was just Alfred warning Bruce not to.

that's only thing I can find for now tho so please if anyone can help I'd like to gets some fact check to be sure.

For now I'm still comforted by the fact most of it doesn't apply much to what is really cannon cannon because some comics and issue are like so different or reset too much from the original it's hard to keep track of everything.

I'm not really a dc comic fan since collecting or even finding time to read them has been a hassle for me, I prefer to watch DC movies, cartoons or gameplays with DC lore and YT dc documentary videos from the ones who actually are a fan and read the issues.

This isn't really about justifying what Alfred had done but to know and learn if I could still properly write about him without triggering fans out there cuz I don't really want any trouble.

it's funny how I'm practically praising the man few weeks ago and now my loyalty is wavering.

I have a plan if this doesn't work out but let's just see, it's so weird because of the perfect timing too.

[under-loch-n-key]

Hi everyone. Obviously everyone has seen the news and read the polls and obviously you can tell that we’re likely cooked.

For some reason our country wants to elect the Mango Menace and his gaggle of orange stained goons once again.

I am terrified for myself, my loved ones, my country, our climate, and just everything.

However, I’d like to tell the LGBTQIA+ community these things because I know we are terrified right now.

What happened today, it’s devastating. It angers me too. Some of my closest family voted for that horrible man. I don’t think I can look at them the same way anymore. Especially, when they hold no guilt or remorse about it even after I explained his policies to them. What do I know, I guess.. 🤷🏻‍♂️🙄

However, as a queer, trans man in this little community, I want ALL of the LGBTQIA+ people who will see this post to know that things will be alright. We all have each other. We know we exist here in the states even if none of us have met. We EXIST.

Just because those orange stained dunderheads want to silence us doesn't change the fact that we exist. We do. We always will. Bigotry cannot fight facts and science. We'll always exist. The only time trans people won't exist is when the human race dies out. Even then, we have other animal species that are queer and trans. No matter what, we will always exist in nature. They cannot change that. They cannot take that from us. Do not lose hope. Even though it's really fucking hard not to.

Do not lose it. The fact that you and I exist is a beacon of hope to another trans and queer person. We exist. None of us want to be left here alone. So we must go on. We must continue to exist. Things WILL be okay. I'll always keep fighting and living for you and every one of my trans and queer brothers, sisters, and siblings.

You existing and simply being here is a beacon of hope to me. Someone who has understands how I'm feeling. Someone who is LIKE me but so different at the same time.

In the grand scheme of the universe, we are very small. However, even though it's small, the fact is that it EXISTS. It's so fucking small in this big void of the cosmos but we're here. We're made of similar components as stars, ones that had to die for us to exist.

I like to think of the sky as when humanity was truly equal. When we were just atoms in the big ol' void, ya know? We didn't fight. We didn't give a shit about all of this stuff. We were allll different types of stars and matter. We were all random as hell, but we just WERE. We coexisted peacefully together in the universe.

Now that those stars are dead as a door nail and some dumb fishy bastard decided to get curious and walk on land, we're all human. Humanity fucking sucks ass sometimes but it's also such a beautiful fucking thing. No matter what happens, a part of us will always exist.

Our existence is embedded in the universe. Nothing can change that. So, please keep living. Be safe, but keep living. Always keep fighting. We belong here just like anyone else.

You belong. You are loved. You are cherished. You are noticed by me and other people here. We all understand each other. So keep going. Again, one day we will all have a better tomorrow. I swear to fucking god or whatever the hell is out there, if anything, however it's unlikely, I will ALWAYS keep fighting for you and WITH you.

Every protest l attend. Every petition I sign. Every time I vote. Every time I go to pride. Every time l simply leave my home as I am. I am doing it for you and all of us. Our people WILL have our damn tomorrow. I'm sick of us not having it. I swear to you we will. So, again, please keep going. Keep fighting. Keep living. Exist. Your existence may be a threat to some bigoted fucker but your existence is precious to someone else. Please do not let them take your right to exist away from you. Keep going.

We’ll have a better tomorrow, the one that we deserve eventually, but we just need get through the hard, bumpy, dirty road first.

Again, we will be okay. Everything will be okay. We’ll get through it. Yes, unfortunately, we will likely see suicide rates and hate crime rates go up and that's disgusting and just all types of awful and depressing. It angers me beyond words.

However, we are strong.

We shouldn't have to be strong though.

What we should be and need to be is loved, accepted, warm, fed, have shelter, and are safe.

For now though, we remain strong. You will always have a place here.

You will live. You will not die, hun. I know the thought creeps in and believe me, I understand. Those thoughts creep in for me too, but we must learn to try to control them. If there's anything I know about us trans and queer folk it's that we're strong, feisty, kind, very sexy, and cheeky as hell. So, if we live, we live because it's our damn right and to be spiteful. We do not owe the people who want to harm us our lives. We just don't. We deserve healthcare. We deserve to love and get married.

We deserve to grow old.

You will grow old. You will be able to go on those trips you've always wanted. You will be able to have that cheesy romance you've always wanted, if you are someone who is wanting a relationship.

You'll be able to sit down and watch your favourite movie. Why? Because you stayed. You didn't give up. Ever. We will always exist.

We will ALWAYS live.

Being transgender has existed before humans even walked this earth and it will still exist when all of us book our holy bus tickets and the blessed holy tax collector comes to collect our debted souls. No matter what, we will live on. They can silence us all they want and erase whatever the fuck they want but that doesn't mean that it's the truth. We're HERE.

We've been here since forever ago. Those Cheeto dusted dunderheads cannot change that. Like I told another person here, other animals and even plants are trans and queer! We've always been here. That won't change, hun.

Everything WILL be okay. We'll always survive and live on. Look at how far we've come in these past years. Many of us thought that we'd be gone already but here we are, two trans people typing away in comment sections on an app where middle age men get off to octopus porn and neko ladies in Japanese school girl outfits because men. and welcome to the internet, I guess. Lmao.

Everything will work out on way or another. We'll have our tomorrow, hun. For now, we gotta buckle down because we're in for a bumpy ride but hey, thankfully on bumpy you have those moments where ya hit the bump just right and you're like

"WOAH, HELLO!- mister bump, you better watch yourself, you saucy boy~ You can't be doin' that. You better take me to dinner first." Lmao. Okay, on a more serious note, we just gotta buckle down together and get through this bumpy ass dirt road because after awhile you make it through that rocky dirt road in the woods and come out to feel smooth pavement again. It'll be alright. We just need to band together and make it through. We all are always stronger together. You're not alone, my friends.

You're talkin' to a guy who has the personality of a gay muppet with a big mouth. I'm shocked nothin’ has happened to me yet with my yappy ass screeching and getting over 80+ gay people to start baa-ing like sheep at a bigot at last year's pride event, but that's a wholeeeee different situation.

My point is, we'll be okay. We'll make it through.

You'll survive. You have me. You have everyoneeeee here and on other social forums. Sure, it's not the same as in-person interactions but it's somethin'. It’s better than nothing I guess. If we’ve gotta go stealth mode eventually and make secret groups for us trans and queer folk, then so be it.

Just do whatever you feel you need to do to keep yourselves safe.

We'll have a better tomorrow. We just need to keep pushing through this rough shit. We'll get out of the woods and onto smooth pavement with open skies eventually.

Continue to exist. Fight. Be safe, but live. Live for yourself, fellow trans people, and simply for spite.

Fuck bigots. Not actually though. Like DON'T fuck them. Who knows where they've been. But fuck them. They're not worth your life. Their bigotry is not worth your life. Live because it's your right.

Those guys are all so far up Donald Trump’s ass he fired his doctor and hired his supporters to give him a colonoscopy.

So, live long. Live for love and live for spite, my friends. We'll get through this.

It’s Trump 2: Electric Boogaloo. SPOILER: The first movie sucked too. They even tried to make a third one — Mango Menace Strikes Back! We didn’t want to come to the theatre to see the second one but it was a class field trip that most of America signed for us. So, we’ve allll got no choice but to go on the trip to the cinema.

Anyways, things will be okay. We’ll make it through. We’ll out get it figured out. We always do. We’ll take care of each other. Everything will be alright. 🤙🏼💛⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️✨

(Sorry for typos and repetitive speech- it’s 4:14 a.m. EST. 😭😭)

[petew21-blog]

Second hand cigar

Halloween has passed, but some parties still had a costume party theme. For example Travis here, a very queer, blonde hair guy unable to find a good last minute costume. His queer friends specified, that it must be something straight-looking, destroying all his plans to go as one of his gay icons.

His look - bleached hair, round colourful glasses and his noticeable gay mannerisms complicated this task.

Travis decided to get inspired in the city, heading to the second hand costume thrift store. He dismissed the idea of going as someone in a uniform, revealing his chest, he was so shy about. The thrift shop manager came to assist him. Before he did, Travis noticed his homophobic looks he gave him, but decided not to make a scene. He really needed the costume.

The manager handed him a biker shirt. "Try it out. I got some other stuff here for you, that would fit you." Travis went to the booth to try it out. He took off his clothes, avoiding the mirror. The shirt slipped right on him, fitting him perfectly. Travis looked back at himself. "I feel so weird, egh. Straight people really have a weird taste."

Suddenly a hand moved the curtain. "It comes with a beanie, jeans and a jacket, I will get it ready for you, before you leave."

Travis felt a weird impulse in his head to take the hat from the guy. He put it on him.

Manager:"You look much better now, sir."

Travis felt as if his confidence was boosted somehow. He felt really good. But it scared him. He wanted to take off his new clothes to return them, but the manager noticed. "No, don't. I want you to have it."

Travis:"I... thank you. I don't know if this is the right fit."

Manager:"I'm sure it is. In fact, I think you look so good in it, I want you to keep it. Free of charge."

Travis struggled a bit financialy, so the fact that he wouldn't have to pay made him feel a bit calmer. "Really? Thank you so much."

They went to the cashier. Travis felt more and more confident in his new clothes. He didn't even notice, that he left his glasses in the booth.

Manager:"Ok, here is a bag for you. Oh, I see you're getting comfortable in your new outfit." manager pointed at Travis's hand in his pants

Travis was shocked to find his hand there, he didn't even notice that he did so. Actually he normally never would have done this. "I am so sorry, sir. I am not really sure what's happening to me right now."

Manager:"You're feeling great in your new costume. That's what this is. Ok, this should be all and you're set to go. By the way, I left a bit of a gift in the jacket for you to use later."

Travis thanked the manager and left the shop. He was so taken back by the fact that he was acting differently. He wasn't sure why, but there was no time to worry about that. There was a party he had to get to.

He threw the jacket in the backseat and sat in his car. He took off his new hat, but another shocked awaited him. "What the fact?! What happened to my hair?!?" his blonde hair turned to its original brunette. But that was not the only thing that changed, his beard grew a bit, giving him a scruffy look.

Travis looked at himself. If he wanted to pass as a straight biker, this would definitely be a good look for him. He didn't want to admit that out loud, but he kind of liked the new look, that the clothes gave him.

He remember the gift, the manager mentioned. He looked through the pockets of the jacket and found a few cigars. "What should I even do with this? I don't smoke..."

He played with the cigar in his hand and looked at his reflection. He placed it in his mouth and looked again. "Oh this looks even better. I'm gonna have the best costume out of all of them." he found a lighter in the same pocket a spontaneously light it.

Travis sat there, enjoying himself. The smoke filling his lungs and the car, the ash falling on his lap. He felt amazing. He didn't look like a fag anymore. He was a man now. Wait. Did he really think that about himself? What about his crush? His crush was a man. But he looked so much better as a biker now than before.

He looked at himself in his camre. He loved his new look. He wanted to be more and more confident. He loved this new rush that the clothes gave him. Maybe if he wore the jacket, he would feel complete. A proper MAN.

Travis reached to the back, the cigar still in his mouth. The jacket smelled like an ollder musky man. Travis was hard now. He was about to wear some other man's clothes. He was gonna be in the clothes that another man was.

The jacket was on and Travis was finally happy. His look was complete. Screw the party. He should be in a bar showing himself off to other people.

But while those tiny transformation took place, something else was happening. Travis didn't notice, that his will was weaker, someone wanted to have a turn in the spotlight. To control this new straight biker body. Travis, drunk by the confidence just simply let go. The force didn't feel dangerous, no. Something that made him feel this good wanted to enjoy the goods too.

Travis closed his eyes, but someone else opened them instead. An ominous gold glow appeared in Travis's eyes for a second.

"Daddy's home." the stranger said in Travis's voice making his voice sound deeper than before. He gave the cigar a large puff and then exhaled.

The stranger immediately grabbed his bulge.

"The fuck... he could have picked a better one. Mine was bigger." he looked at his reflection now.

"Not bad. Gonna give you some improvements and maybe I could keep being you."

Travis's body dialed a phone number. The name of the costume shop appeared above it.

"Hey, guess who's back?!"

Manager:"Finally. I wasn't sure he wouldn't throw the clothes away."

Stranger:"What happened to the original plan, huh? You promised me a hot jock to turn into a biker. This one looks like a fairy."

Manager:"He is one. But that makes it even better, right? We'll get to cancel out some votes as well. Anyway, go to my appartement. The rest of your stuff is still there."

Stranger:"Thank you, brother!"

2 weeks later

Travis was long gone. Or at least that's what Travis's friends told each other. It was something they told themselves to ignore the fact, that their originally queer friend was now a MAGA supporter and a cigar smoking, biker.

Fuck, Travis even changed his looks completely. Whatever happened to him changed him completely. He was now walking shirtless in a vest, very openly showing off his hairy chest, he shaved his head and even gave himself a goatee.

Meanwhile, Dale was now living his second chance at life. His brother helped him get a new body and turn it into a better version of him. He was happy to smoke cigars again, taste alcohol and fuck pussy as he did in his life before. So yeah, fuck the old Travis. Life is amazing!

A story for @hypnosmoke420 with his own original photos. How cool is that? :D

[clubsmarties]

"That was your favorite part?" he asked incredulously. "Here I figured the kiss would have made an impression." Eli teased half heartedly. "That makes sense but also I understand. If I could have stayed with my foster siblings I would have. Leaving them wasn't my first choice." But it was the only decision he had to make in order to keep their family from having to take on one more mouth to feed. "I'm assuming your dad lives here?" The manner in which her features lit up told him she was more than excited to see them. "When they come visit you come to the diner. I can swing a two for one special."

He shook his head making a show of it and grinned. "Nope. Not at all. The bigger the bribery the better." Now he was curious as to what she'd have up her sleeve though he kept that part quiet. "You don't have to keep your hands and feet to yourself."

"Why wouldn't we like each other after?" His head tilted like that of a lost puppy. "You have no confidence in this. I'm hurt." he feigned hurt as he dramatically placed his hand over his forehead. "I do like to be wooed. Food is pretty much one of the best ways to get to my heart. See, now you've learned a new fact." In an attempt to make her laugh he stared right at her and fluttered his eyes. "These eyes? You think are pretty?"

"Ask whatever you want. I'd rather be asked than be figured out like 'm a zoo animal." He let out a husky little laugh and nodded. "Consider me a very interested pupil then."

He took an open seat across the counter as he played with the water bottle and set it down. Answering Laurel's question from before had him half grin. "I wouldn't say dancing is a hobby. I do like it but I just don't do it as often. Never had a suitable partner to dance with until Halloween night." He thought to what he liked to do and hummed. "The boring answer is read." At least to others it'd seem boring. "Exciting answer is that I like to ski. One year our family took a trip to Aspen where I saw snow for the first time, I'd seen it before but not like that. I had seen my dad get on a board and swoosh down and thought that was the coolest thing ever. I liked it. What about you? Hobbies include having a strong flirting game?"

The thought of her already making an impression didn't sound right, but if his memory of when he first saw her was any indicator, then she was inclined to believe him. "I have to say, the dancing was unexpected, but it turned out to be my favorite part of the night." One conversation, one dance, and Laurel was hooked. That led her to a diner, and so on. “Hm, yeah,” she hummed in thought thinking of home. “California was home. I was tempted to be honest.” Juju probably would’ve loved it. “I just couldn’t bring myself to leave my dad. It’s just me and him now. No other family, really. Felt terrible to run off and leave him.” Being the second person to do that to him just didn’t feel right. “It does! I’m really excited for them to come over, soon I think.” Juju’s words crept into her mind, wanting to meet him and all. Not a good time to mention that though. “They said they’d try visiting soon, her and her boyfriend. Maybe next month?”

She was quickly discovering that she loved making him laugh. It was such a sweet sound, one she could hear again and again. “Oh, so you’re not above bribery? I’m intrigued.” The look on his face, with that smirk, invited trouble. And Laurel was immediately intrigued, ready to be bribed. His confirmation made her smile, because she still couldn’t tell if they were just joking around, but being kept warm by him seemed worth everything. “Sometimes both, so honestly any and all warm is appreciated. I promise not to touch you with my cold, cold hands.”

“You can hold me to anything you want, but yes promise no judgment on the awesome blankets.” Though, now she was very curious what kind of blankets these were. Did they have some amusing design on them? Or the character blankets, like Spider-Man or something? “And, I hope we still like each other at the end of this getting to know you session,” finishing her earlier sentence. Laurel’s features softened further, her smile growing as she returned the gentle squeeze. Well, well — now, it was her turn to smirk. Amusement tugging on her lips as they both agreed on this eventual next time. “do you? Time to bring out all my wooing skills then. Just to make sure I don’t miss my chance.” Talking about Jenny made her feel awkward, shaking her head at his comment. It certainly seemed like she was upset, but part of her hoped that wasn’t true. “I hope not, because you have very pretty eyes.”

That comforted her, knowing he was willing to share with her after her awkward question. "Thank you..for, more or less, feeling comfortable to answer." Laurel listened to him talk about family and the birthday celebration, exasperation was evident in his tone. She wondered if he genuinely didn't like celebrating his birthday, just something for her to know - future reference and all. “I have, but that’s nice to see - that kind of commitment to your family. I feel like most people are eager to leave their family and be independent. Hm, I’m glad they insist. You deserve to be celebrated, and cake is never too bad I hope.” She looked his way, trying to decipher if he was serious but his laughter confirmed it for her quickly enough. “Oh, tempting? Funny you say that, I was thinking the same thing. Well, the push and pull can be fun. I promise I’m not as stubborn as my sign says. Sexy, really? Consider me an expert on all things astrology then.” She definitely wasn’t one by any means, but laurel was quick to sign up. “Okay, next question: hobbies. Can I assume dancing is one of them?” Considering they had found the time to dance the two times they crossed paths.

[firstkanaphans]

That one ask/reply shitting on THK and GMMTV in general is really.... something. 🙃 I think you and @invisiblegarters already expressed most of my thoughts on that but I just want to add that based on every Jojo interview I've ever watched (and I've watched a lot of them during Only Friends), I never once got the impression that he's being forced to worked with branded pairs and, as you pointed out, it's actually kind of insulting to suggest he's having these pairs forced onto him and has to write stories he actually doesn’t want to tell just to suit those pairs. During OF I saw a lot of talk (from the same circle of people who are now criticising THK before a single episode has even aired) about this too (about Jojo probably being forced to keep SandRay and TopMew together just because the actors are branded pairs) but everything always pointed to the opposite being true: Jojo (along with the other OF writers) wrote a script where 2 of the couples are together at the end and one is not. And he chose the actors according to that story, NOT the other way around (he chose branded pairs to play those 2 couples because he always planned on them to be together and therefore felt branded pairs would fit that kind of a story/ending).

Not to mention I thought Jojo being a simp for Khao was common knowledge, but I guess not? But yeah, uh, anyone that has ever watched any of the Soonvijarn videos knows this. It was only a matter of time before Jojo got to work with Khaotung tbh (and clearly wants to keep working him and First, given he chose to work with FK immediately after he already worked with them). Directors have faves and it's very clear Khao is one of Jojo's.

The only thing I will agree with that original post on is the fact that it'd be nice to see some of these branded pairs act in projects solo or with a different partner. However, that doesn't have to mean they should stop working with their branded pair altogether. I don't see why they couldn't do both. Though honestly, for me the main determining factor is what the actors themselves feel happiest doing. There are certain actors who definitely do not/did not enjoy being stick in a branded pair and that was visible from the moom. I'm glad for those of them who are no longer in branded pairs, since that's obviously not something they wanted. However, FK are not one of those pairs. From everything I see of them right now, they both feel happy and fulfilled working with each other. The moment they stop feeling that way, I will stop wanting to see them act in shows together as a couple. People seriously need to stop being so vehemently against branded pairs as a whole. (There's also a lot of hipocrisy going around: Branded pairs are totally fine if it means these people will get to see a pair like MaxTul play a couple in multiple series, but as soon as a GMMTV branded pair acts in several BLs together, branded pairs are suddenly bad and are holding the actors back. Double standards much?)

[This ask was sent in response to this post, but I would just skip down to @invisiblegarters addition because it's the only part worth reading]

Yeah, there’s an anti-GMMTV branded pair movement going on here on Tumblr and I don’t understand where it came from or what its purpose is considering early GMMTV pairs such as OffGun and TayNew are exempt from criticism. 

It seems to come down to just a fundamental misunderstanding of the genre. In romances, the two main characters end up together. If they do not end up together, it’s not a romance. It does not matter if the two main characters are played by a branded pair or not. This is just how romances work. 

Not to mention that these shows are conceptualized way before they are ever cast and are oftentimes based on novels, so the casting has literally no bearing on the story at all. In the case of THK specifically, Jojo has been working on that script for at least two years. FK weren’t even a branded pair back then!

To suggest that queer characters are only getting happy endings because a company is trying to sell fan meets is incredibly insulting to not only the queer creators who make these works, but also the queer viewers who want to see a happy ending for themselves on screen.

[deadpresidents]

Thanks for being real today.

I get people wanting to be hopeful.

But I can't with "it will be okay" and "we will survive this."

It was not okay for Heather Heyer, Joseph Rosenbaum, Anthony Huber, Joyce Fienberg, Richard Gottfried, Rose Mallinger, Jerry Rabinowitz, Cecil & David Rosenthal, Bernice & Sylvan Simon, Daniel Stein, Melvin Wax, Irving Younger, Andre Anchondo, Jordan Anchondo, Arturo Benavides, Leonardo Campos, Angie Englisbee, Maria Flores, Raul Flores, Guillermo "Memo" Garcia, Jorge Calvillo García, Adolfo Cerros Hernández, Alexander Gerhard Hoffman, David Johnson, Luis Alfonzo Juarez, Maria Eugenia Legarreta Rothe, Maribel (Campos) Loya, Ivan Filiberto Manzano, Elsa Mendoza Marquez, Gloria Irma Márquez, Margie Reckard, Sara Esther Regalado Moriel, Javier Rodriguez, Teresa Sanchez, Juan Velazquez, or any of the other people killed by white supremacists whose actions were aided and abetted by the Trump presidency. These people did not survive. Not to mention all the people who haven't survived COVID, but might have if the Trump administration had taken timely action. Or the women who have died after being refused appropriate medical care because of the rapist and his buddies that Trump appointed decided with some weird pastor in the 1600 said was more important than the lives of actual living, breathing, human beings. Or the school children who would not have been shot to death if we had actual gun control laws in this country, a thing that would have been possible to achieve if Trump had lost in 2016.

Yeah, sure, the majority of us in the United States will probably survive. That's how statistics work. And if that's what somebody needs to hear in order to move forward, then I guess saying such things has a purpose. But it's looking pretty shitty for anybody living in Ukraine and to me, it comes across as disrespectful to the people whose lives have been lost in no small part thanks to what goes down in US elections.

I needed somebody today who would say not only that this is not okay, but this is *really* not okay.

Thanks for being that voice.

Thank you for this. I can't help but write what I feel, even if some of it hasn't been the most optimistic message to send. There is a reality that we need to come to terms with in order to find some way forward. I'm pissed off and I'm disgusted with this country, so I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing because it is therapeutic for me right now and I'm too old to go around punching and kicking people.

I do want to say that I'm also cognizant of the fact that some people just need some time to allow this reality to settle. I certainly don't want to add to the stress or darkness that some of us are feeling right now. There is no denying that this is fucking terrible, but we will regroup and find a way through it. It won't be easy and we're going to have to fight, but I don't want anybody to think that there is genuinely no hope. There's always something that we can do, even if it seems bleak.

If I'm writing something or somebody else is saying something that you're not ready to hear, it's okay to do what you need to do to remain healthy. These posts are going to be here whenever you might feel like reading them. You can and should step away from this if you just need a fucking break. It doesn't mean you're any less ready or willing to fight this battle than anybody else. Even if Trump and the rotten MAGA cult takes control of every lever of power, you can gain a personal victory by not allowing them to completely crush your faith in the future. You can be depressed and despair, but do not give up. Do not give them that power over you. We will find a way. We will get through this. We will figure out what it is that we need to do and who we need to back and how we need to attack, but taking care of your personal health and well-being is more immediately important than the bigger political battle or the next step in the resistance. Take care of yourselves first and we'll still be here and ready to eventually harness this anger and frustration and fucking disgust to defeat the MAGA movement and Trump's Christian nationalist personality cult.

The main thing, though, is that if you're really having a tough time in the immediate future, step away, take some time, go for a walk, read something that has absolutely nothing to do with Donald Trump or American politics (if you need suggestions, I always have book recommendations!), and regroup. Again, we'll get through this, and as goofy and weird and ridiculous as Tumblr can be at times, there's always a community of people on this site willing to listen and help each other when we're struggling. So, if you are having trouble getting to tomorrow, reach out because there are scores of people here who will help get there with you.

[simpforpeterp]

stanford pines x reader

Look Me in the Eye

summary: based on a daisy jones and the six scene! a one shot in which ford comes home from a crazy night with bill, pushing you to your limit

warnings: a slap from reader to ford. gender neutral reader! this one shot came from a chapter of my actual oc story about ford but i made it gender neutral x reader because i’m so proud of this scene.

word count: 4.4k

With Fiddleford back home for Thanksgiving and the portal on a brief hiatus, you’d think Ford would take that chance to be home. But he doesn’t; he keeps working. So, you decide to try and get some work done too. Writing hasn’t come easy, though.

Ford is God knows where, and you’re sitting at your piano, staring at the keys, waiting for the words to come. At this point, a part of you has accepted that the Ford you married is somewhere deep in the back of his brain. He said he would do better, but he hasn’t. You think back to your cousin and how you swore that you wouldn’t let yourself end up like that—in a small town with a deadbeat partner and a baby.

The only thing you don’t have out of those things is a baby, which you don’t want. When you were younger, you always saw yourself having kids. But when you marry a human, it’s a little strange to think about. It’s unknown if you could even have kids together. There were legends back home about two humans in the demon realm, and one of them married and had a baby with a witch.

You do a mini birth control spell that you’re not even sure works. Well, it’s worked so far—you haven’t gotten pregnant yet. Ford wouldn’t give a damn about a baby anyway, so why even put it at the forefront of your mind? And you’re fine without kids. You’re not one of those people who craved kids their whole life and dreamed about what life with children would look like.

You always assumed it would happen if it happened. And with Ford, it’s not happening. These past few months have proven that more than ever because he’s rarely home. The way most couples go out to dinner at the end of a long day, you and Ford go out to breakfast two or three times a week. But he’s usually trying to hide the fact that he’s rushing to get back to work.

His attempt at spending time with you is noted but not necessarily accepted.

The door creaks open, and you hear the unsteady shuffle of Ford’s footsteps before you see him. He stumbles into the room, shirtless, his hair a tangled mess, eyes glassy, and reeking of alcohol. He stands there in the doorway, looking at you with a mix of shame and regret, unable to meet your gaze for long. He tries to speak, but the words fumble out, barely coherent.

“Ford,” you breathe, your voice wavering between anger and concern. You step closer to him, looking at how droopy and tired his eyes look. “What happened to you?”

“I… I know Bill took it too far this time, but it doesn’t… it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not—” He’s almost nonverbal, his normally sharp mind dulled by the alcohol and Bill’s lingering influence. When you see new tattoos on his body, you lose it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ford? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. He doesn’t even look at you; his mind is completely somewhere else. It’s as if Ford isn’t even in there right now.

Before he can respond, you close the distance between you, and your hand connects with his face in a swift, stinging slap. Given that you’re smaller than him, it doesn’t do much other than make him look at you. Ford looks at you, stunned, his hand moving slowly to his cheek where your slap left its mark and a slight stinging pain.

“You come home like this,” you say, your voice breaking as tears well up in your eyes. “After everything, you think you can just brush it off? You think you can say it doesn’t mean anything and that’s supposed to be enough?”

Ford’s lips tremble, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and sorrow. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, how much he hates himself for what he’s become, but the words won’t come.

“What happened to the man I married?” you continue, your voice softer now, though no less pained. “Where’s the Ford who would move mountains for me, who promised we’d get through anything together? Because this…” You gesture at him, tears finally spilling over. “This isn’t the man I fell in love with.”

Ford’s eyes fill with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. He knows he’s the cause, knows that he’s pushed you to the edge, but he still can’t let go of the work, of the promises he made to Bill. But none of that matters now—not when he sees how much he’s hurting you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “I… it’s Bill, but I—”

“So, who do I blame?” you ask, and he doesn’t have an answer. “Who the fuck do you think you are, acting like this? You come home from doing God knows what, God knows where, and have the nerve to try to defend Bill? After all of this bullshit, you still think he’s someone worth putting up with?”

You look at him, your anger slowly giving way to a deep, aching sadness. You still love him—God, you love him so much—but this version of Ford, the one who’s been consumed by his work and Bill’s influence, is breaking your heart piece by piece.

“I love you, Ford. I love you so much it hurts, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself… and us.” Your voice trembles as you take a step back, the space between you feeling like a chasm.

“Please… I don’t want to lose you. I love you more than anything. I’m sorry.” Ford reaches out to you, desperation in his eyes.

You hesitate, looking at the man you married, the one you’ve been trying to hold on to, but you can’t shake the fear that he’s already slipping away.

“You’re losing me, Stanford.” You shake your head as another tear falls, and it’s like everything comes bubbling over all at once.

Ford reaches out, desperate to close the distance between you, but you step back, gently pushing him away. Your hands, though soft against his chest, carry the weight of all the anger and hurt you’ve been holding in.

“Go take a shower, Ford,” you say, your voice trembling but firm. “I’m not going to talk to you again until you do.”

Your words hit him like a cold splash of reality. He can see the resolve in your eyes, the line you’re drawing in the sand. You’re not just angry; you’re done—at least for now. Ford hesitates, wanting to say something, anything to make this right, but the look on your face tells him that words won’t fix this. Not this time.

He nods, defeated, and turns away, heading for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind him feels like a finality he’s not ready to face. He lingers for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob, hoping you’ll say something—anything—to stop him from leaving the room. But you don’t.

As he steps into the shower, the hot water cascades over him, washing away the grime and sweat from the night, but it does nothing to ease the weight on his chest. He leans against the tiled wall, water mingling with the tears he’s been holding back.

His heart breaks. He knew after every other little crack in your relationship that this was coming. But nothing could’ve made him ready for the day you finally snapped. And he knows you don’t believe he loves you as much as he does, which kills him.

Meanwhile, you watch him disappear into the bathroom, your heart heavy with the love you still feel for him, mixed with the deep-seated pain of watching him spiral. You turn on your heel, walking away, needing the space to gather yourself before you can even think about facing him again. As you move through your home, every room feels colder and emptier, and you can’t shake the fear that the warmth you once shared might be slipping away for good.

After all that, you feel like you need a shower too. You can’t believe you said all that and exploded. It felt like it was a long time coming and this was the final straw. His coming home like that, completely shameless, made you feel an anger you hadn’t felt before. Anger because you always said you could do better than your family, but he’s making you feel the same as they did.

When Ford finally emerges, clean but still burdened, he heads into your bedroom. He notices you sitting there with red, puffy eyes. He doesn’t know what to do; he doesn’t know how to fix this.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted, but you have to know how pissed I am,” you speak first as he takes a seat beside you on the bed. “If you don’t love me anymore, just say it. You’re never around anymore, and when you are, it seems like you just want to get away from me. It’s fine if you don’t love me anymore; I’d be heartbroken, but I’d be okay. I’d be even more heartbroken if you kept me hanging around here when it’s just me who still loves you.”

Ford feels his throat tighten at your words, guilt and sorrow gnawing at him. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words catch in his throat. How can he make you understand that his distance has never been about a lack of love? How can he convince you that despite everything, you’re still the most important part of his life?

“I always promised myself I wouldn’t be this,” you start. “Sitting around as if I need someone. I never wanted to be the person stuck at home, trotting around at the genius’ heels. Especially not with someone who doesn’t—who might not—” your voice trembles, and he quickly jumps in.

“I do love you,” he finally whispers, his voice hoarse. “I love you more than anything. I’m just… lost. This work, everything I’ve been doing—it’s consumed me, and I know I’ve let it come between us. But please, don’t ever think that I don’t love you. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

You listen, your eyes searching his face for sincerity. You can see the regret there, the deep sadness in his eyes, but you’ve heard apologies before. You need more than just words. Ford reaches out, taking your hand in his, holding it like a lifeline. He can feel your fingers trembling, and it breaks his heart all over again.

“I know I’ve been terrible,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my work that I’ve neglected you, neglected us. But I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I’ll do better—I promise I’ll do better.”

“How many times have we had this conversation, Ford? I—I’m getting tired,” you breathe out.

“I mean, what do you want me to tell you here? Do you want me to say I’m never gonna work with Bill again? Because I can’t! I need him.” Ford tries.

“No, you don’t!” you slightly raise your voice before sighing.

“Do you want me to just stop working so you can be making money and supporting me while I do nothing? I mean, fuck, you’re not exactly writing or anything right now,” he breathes out.

“I’m trying,” you say firmly.

“I can’t… I can’t lose so you’re comfortable! I can’t lose because you can’t win,” he raises his voice.

And then it’s quiet for a moment. Neither of you speaks, but Ford instantly regrets it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” your voice breaks.

He’s failed you in so many ways, and he’s terrified that it might be too late to fix things. But as he looks into your eyes, he knows he has to try.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right,” he says, his voice trembling with conviction. “Just… please don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us.”

“I don’t believe you,” you cry, and he slightly stiffens. “I mean, did you hear what you just said? I need to go for a drive or something.”

“Wait, please,” he starts, but you’re already standing up and trying to leave. “I’m so in love with you it feels like I can’t breathe when I’m not with you!”

As you try to walk out as quickly as possible to hide your tears, he sees your hand come up to wipe them.

“Please don’t go,” he begs, finally catching up with you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Please, just hear me out.”

“I’ll hear you out later, I just need a minute. I don’t want to give up on this, but I just… I need a coffee or something,” you look him in the eyes, and everything in him softens.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “Just… please, come home to me.”

“I will. I’ll be back soon,” you nod.

Ford watches helplessly as you leave. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. His heart aches with a pain he can’t describe, but he doesn’t have the time to wallow. The moment you’re gone, something snaps inside him, and he storms back into his office.

Once inside, Ford slams the door shut and collapses into his chair, his body shaking as the tears finally break free. He buries his face in his hands, the sobs wracking his body with a force he hasn’t felt in years. All of the pain, the regret, the self-loathing—it all comes pouring out in a way that feels like it could tear him apart.

But before he can even begin to regain control, he senses a familiar presence. The air in the room changes, becoming thick with an ominous energy that Ford knows all too well.

"Why the long face, Sixer?" Bill’s voice cuts through the silence. "Having a little lover’s quarrel?"

Ford lifts his head, his bloodshot eyes meeting Bill’s glowing form. Rage surges through him, raw and untamed.

"This is your fault," he yells. "You’ve ruined everything!"

"Me? Ruin? Oh, come on, Fordsy. You know this was bound to happen. You’re the one who’s been pushing them away, not me." Bill laughs, the sound echoing eerily off the walls. Ford’s fists clench at his sides, the anger building to a boiling point.

"I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you!" he shouts, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotions. "My marriage is falling apart because of you!"

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic," Bill taunts, his voice dripping with condescension. "You think I made you neglect them? Do you think I made you ignore all those signs? That’s all you, pal. I see everything, and they’ve been telling you how they feel like every day. It’s not my fault you don’t care enough to do anything about it."

"I- why did you have to go so crazy in my body? I respect you, and I’m still finishing the portal, but what the hell? At the end of the day, I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you." Ford glares.

"You think finishing that portal is going to fix your problems? Oh, Fordsy, you’re in way over your head. Stop blaming me. It’s not my fault you want to see me more than your own spouse." Bill laughs.

"Maybe you can’t process emotions like this, but they’re the love of my life. Before them, I hadn’t really dated anyone, and I wasn’t even sleeping around or anything; I was a loser. The only reason I ended up with someone as incredible as them without ruining it, like usual, is because I saw them as an anomaly at first. I didn’t think I was flirting or anything. I don’t know what I’d do if they left me. I wouldn’t even know what love is without them. You need to think about what your actions can mean for other people, Bill." Ford turns back to Bill.

"Clearly, you’re the one that needs to think about your actions. Isn’t it crazy that if you neglect someone’s feelings, they won’t want to be with you anymore? Even I can understand that!" Bill laughs, and Ford just stands up.

Ford sits there for a moment before he decides he can’t take it anymore. He stands up and heads to the music room. Bill yells things as he walks away, but Ford doesn’t hear it. He heads straight for a notebook full of songs they’ve written. His heart is racing as he opens it and sees so many that he hasn’t even heard yet.

In fact, this is a new notebook almost full of songs he hasn’t heard except for a few at the beginning. Have they not tried to show him, or has he not tried to listen? He reads the sad lyrics of almost every song, lyrics about feeling lonely when with someone you love and waking up alone. Songs about how they try to convince themselves that they’re a part of his life but not feeling like it. When did he start pulling away from them?

You sit in your car with a to-go cup of coffee, unsure if you should drive home yet or simmer for a little while longer. Your fingers tap on the warm cup as you try to think clearly. Your love for Ford is swarming every inch of your mind. But you know you shouldn’t accept what you don’t deserve, and you know you haven’t done anything to deserve this.

The version of you before Ford would’ve threatened a divorce already to try and scare him. You don’t want to do that now, but you want him to realize that you can’t keep living like this. You can’t keep following in his stride instead of walking beside him. You’ve won ten Grammys; it’s not as if you’re unaccomplished with no other options but to stay with him.

But you want to stay with him. Ford is so loving and warm. No one has ever loved you the way he has. Hell, no one other than Ford has seen you as more than a one-night thing. And you love him so much. You can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s something here for you to try to understand that you don’t already.

You look at the ring on your finger—his ring. And you don’t feel like other people have described, like it’s a handcuff or a jail cell that’s keeping you locked to him. You love being married to Ford. Saying you don’t and never did would be a complete lie. You just don’t love being mostly ignored by the man you love.

For someone so smart, he can be such an idiot sometimes. Letting some kind of entity possess his body whenever it pleases is a new low. Is that my problem? Bill? you think. It’s not right to you that his weakest self gets to decide how your life is going to turn out; you get to decide that. And what you want is a life—a beautiful marriage, a home—with him. With the man you know he truly is. And you’re going to get it, hell or high water.

You take a deep breath, your eyes still fixed on the ring as you turn it around your finger. The thought of a future without Ford makes your heart ache, but you know you deserve better, and you know Ford is capable of giving it to you—if he just realized how much you mean to him, how much you mean to each other.

You sip your coffee, the warmth grounding you, giving you the clarity you need. You know you have limits. If Ford can’t see the toll his actions are taking on your marriage, then you have to make him see it. You have to stand up for yourself, for what you want, and for the life you could have together.

You start the car, the decision made. You’re going to drive home and talk to him—not in anger or frustration, but with the love that’s still there, burning so fiercely in your heart. You’re going to make him understand what’s at stake—not just your marriage, but everything you’ve built together.

As you drive, the road blurs slightly through your unshed tears, but you blink them away. You can’t afford to lose focus now. Ford needs to know that you’re serious, that this isn’t just another fight that will blow over. This is your future, and you won’t let it slip away without a fight.

When you pull up to the house, your resolve only strengthens. You take a deep breath before stepping out of the car, the ring on your finger feeling like a lifeline rather than a chain. You walk into the house, finding Ford sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, and the relief in his eyes is almost overwhelming.

“Ford…” you begin, your voice thick with emotion, but you hold up a hand to stop him as he tries to respond.

“Ford, I need you to listen to me,” you say firmly, though your voice trembles slightly. You sit down beside him, taking his hands in yours. “I love you more than anything in this world, but I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep being the one who’s always trying to catch up to you, to your work, to everything else that seems to matter more than me or my feelings.”

His eyes widen in panic, and he starts to speak, but you squeeze his hands, stopping him again.

“No, Ford. Let me finish,” you continue, your voice soft but steady. “You’ve always been so loving, so warm, and I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. But you know me, and you know I’m not the type to ignore the fact that I’ve felt more like an afterthought lately. And it hurts. It really, really hurts.”

“Please, I—” Ford’s face crumples, and you can see the guilt and regret swirling in his eyes.

“I don’t want to threaten you with divorce or give you an ultimatum,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “But I need you to understand that if we’re going to make this work, you need to start seeing me as your partner again, not just someone who’s here to support you while you chase after your dreams. We need to be in this together, walking side by side—not with me always trying to catch up.”

Ford looks at you with such intensity that it nearly takes your breath away. His eyes are red and puffy too, his fingers nervously moving his ring in circles on his finger.

“You’re right,” he finally says, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’ve taken you for granted. But I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. You mean everything to me, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You make me want to be better, not just for you, but for us. And I’m going to prove it to you. I don’t want to lose this with you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve hurt you. Just… please, don’t go. I’m still yours. My heart is always gonna be yours. You are the one I want.”

“I just want you to see me, Ford. Really see me. I’m not asking you to give up your work, but I need you to find a balance, to make room for us in your life. Because I can’t keep doing this if things don’t change.” You nod, tears spilling over your lashes as you squeeze his hands.

“I see you. I promise I see you,” Ford whispers, pulling you into his arms. “And I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me. I won’t let you down again. And those aren’t just empty promises—I mean every word I say to you.”

As you hold each other, the tension begins to melt away, replaced by the hope that you can find your way back to each other. It won’t be easy, but you know it’s possible. And for the first time in a long time, you believe that you can make it work. Ford pulls back slightly, his gaze locking with yours.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t date anyone in high school or college—I was too focused on my work. Hell, I’ve only slept with four people in my life, and you’re the only one who wanted me after that. You’re the only one who stayed the morning after and kissed me and smiled at me. You looked so perfect then, and it would’ve been impossible not to want more with you. You’re the reason I want to be better, the reason I want to wake up every morning. And I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life, but I’m not going to take it for granted anymore. I promise you that.”

“Okay.” You nod for a moment before bringing his lips to yours.

He sinks into you, and the next thing he knows, he’s on top of you on the couch. Both of your hands are desperate as your lips talk. And he thinks, while this is happening, that you are worth everything to him. He didn’t think any of this would be happening when he first got out of high school and his life was in front of him. He never thought he would even have a spouse, let alone be kissing you with his body between your legs in your home on a quiet November night.

And the further things go, he realizes that he hasn’t touched you like this since your most recent talk about him neglecting you before tonight. Seasons changed, months passed, and he was too wrapped up in whatever he was doing to just exist with you, which is what he loved doing when you first met.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Boss Part 4 -Oneshot

Word count: 1915

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“I don’t understand why this is a big deal,” Bucky groaned, picking up his work bag and adjusting his suit jacket.

“What do you mean?  It’s a big deal in any relationship,” Y/N said incredulously.  “Meeting the family is a big step.”

“It’s just Sunday brunch with my sister,” Bucky said, giving her an unimpressed look.

“The sister that I know so little about, other than the fact that she and I have similar traumatic experiences and she’s a designer.  Yeah, I’m feeling really prepared,” Y/N replied sarcastically, grabbing her own bag and walking to the garage.  Bucky was right behind her, unlocking the car and sighing heavily.  Y/N rolled her eyes.  

“Why would you need to be prepared?  It’s not a business lunch.  You just be yourself.  I think you both would get along really well,” he continued as he pulled the car out of the garage.

“Sure.  We’re out of the house, no more home talk,” Y/N said, trying to shut down the conversation.

Bucky gave her a frustrated glance before putting it in drive and taking off.  The drive was silent, which was out of the ordinary.  Y/N knew she was being a little ridiculous.  It was just a brunch.  With his sister.  But she didn’t know much about her.  And meeting new people, especially people that were important to Bucky, was always nerve-wracking.  What if they didn’t get along?  What if his sister hated her?  What if she saw something in Y/N that Bucky didn’t see and told him he deserved better or should find somebody else?  As secure in her relationship as she felt, this was introducing a new dynamic into it, something deeper and more serious between them.  

During the work day Y/N was much quieter and curt with Bucky.  Her regular friendly, polite banter was gone, and she was getting looks from others in the office.  “Are you okay, Y/N?” Steve asked while they were both in the break room getting lunch.

“What?  I’m fine,” Y/N said, frowning at him.

He gave her an arched eyebrow.  “Uh huh,” he said, unconvinced.  “Trouble at home?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  Steve was the only one who knew that she and Bucky were together.  “Did he say something to you?” she asked him.

“No.  But neither of you are good at keeping a straight face,” he replied.  

“Good to know,” she huffed and grabbed her food.  “Bye Steve.”

“Bye Y/N,” he sing-songed back at her as she marched out of the break room.  She walked out of the office to the hallway leading to the elevators, then quickly veered into the stairwell.  She sat down on the steps, using her legs as a tray to eat her food.  She just wanted some peace and quiet for a moment as she ate.

“What are you doing in here?” Bucky’s voice echoed through the stairwell as he opened the door.

“Eating lunch,” Y/N said around a big bite in her mouth.  

“No shit Sherlock.  Why are you in the stairwell?” Bucky asked sharply.

Y/N took her time chewing then swallowing her bite.  “Just wanted some alone time.  I still have 20 minutes for lunch.  I’ll be in soon.”

Bucky watched her silently, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, focusing on her food and taking another big bite.  “This is ridiculous,” he griped, then walked down the stairs enough to be at eye level with her.  “Quit acting like you’re this shy, nervous little thing that can’t handle meeting new people.  It’s just Becca.  I don’t understand why you’re so worried about it.”

“Uh uh uh, Mr. Barnes.  We’re at work.  No home conversations at the office,” Y/N said, taking another bite.  “But that’s good I know her name now.”

Bucky blinked, his jaw tight as he glared at her.  “Okay, you’ve made your point.  I haven’t told you much about her because I didn’t feel like it was my place.  But she’s the only family I have left, and I want the two most important women in my life to know each other.”  Y/N glanced at him at those words, seeing how serious he was.  She didn’t say anything, and his frown deepened.  “So you’ll suck me off at work, but you won’t talk to me about anything personal?”

Her eyes widened at him mentioning their sexual moment weeks before late at night in his office.  She glared back at him before standing up.  “Don’t be an asshole.  You’re the one who said work is work, and home is home.  I was just following orders, boss.”  She turned to walk toward the stairwell door, opening the door then slamming it shut behind her.  She marched back into Bucky’s office, grabbing her things before going back up to the front.  Bucky was just walking back in as she came out.  “Kamala, I’m not feeling well.  I’ll forward Mr. Barnes’ meeting schedule to you so you’re aware of who is coming in and when for today,” Y/N said, tapping the counter to Kamala’s desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, well get feeling better!” Kamala said, giving her a sad look.

“Thank you,” Y/N said.  She gave Bucky a hard look before walking back out of the reception area to the elevators.  Bucky was right on her heels.

“So now you’re just running away?” Bucky accused when she pushed the button for the elevator.  

“No, I’m taking some time to collect myself,” Y/N said, keeping her tone as professional as possible.  

“Y/N–” “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all,” Y/N retorted as the doors opened for the elevator.  She stepped inside and pushed the main level floor button.

“How are you going to get home?” Bucky asked, holding the door open with his hand. 

“I’m not going home,” Y/N said quietly.

Bucky’s face twisted from frustration to sadness.  “Doll–”

“Don’t,” Y/N said, reaching up and moving his hand away.  The doors closed on him, his sad eyes haunting her.  Y/N gritted her teeth as the elevator moved down, literally biting back tears.  When the doors opened she left the building, ordering an Uber.  She had given up her apartment months ago after the whole debacle with her ex-boyfriend stalking her, so she had nowhere else to go.  But that didn’t matter.  The Uber brought her to Bucky’s house, where she ran in and packed a light, weekend bag before getting back in and was later dropped off at a nice hotel.  Now seemed as good a time as any for a short vacation.

***

Later that night as she was cuddled in bed in her bathrobe, finishing her last bit of room service dinner, a call came to her room phone.  Y/N frowned at the phone, waiting until the second ring before reaching over and grabbing it.  “Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N?  This is Gwen, one of the front desk receptionists?”

“Uh, yes, how can I help you?”

“There’s a man here who says he’s here to see you.  James Barnes?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  Of course he knew where she was.  She had forgotten that her location was still enabled on the work phone, sitting right next to her on the nightstand.  “Yeah, you can send him up,” she sighed.

“Okay, thank you.”  

Y/N shifted herself up and out of the bed, annoyed at having to move from her comfortable position.  She adjusted her robe and paused the show she was watching on the TV when she heard a knock on her door.  She took a deep breath to steady her thundering heart as she walked over, unlocked the door and opened it.  Bucky stood there in casual clothes and holding a backpack, a sad expression on his face as his gaze met hers.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment.  Bucky swallowed harshly, then took a step toward her.  “Doll,” he started.  Y/N inhaled deeply.  “Can I come in?”

She paused for a moment then nodded, stepping back to give him room to walk in.  Bucky gave her a small smile and walked around her into the room.  Y/N closed the door and followed him inside.  He stood waiting for her, and as she sat back down on the bed she gestured for him to sit on the chair across from her at the sitting area.  He quickly sat down, leaning on his elbows against his knees.  Y/N didn’t know what to say, so she just waited.  Bucky gnawed on his lower lip before sighing.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he said quietly.  “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and…I shouldn’t have gotten angry or defensive over it.  Meeting family is a big step, so I understand why you would be worried or stressed.  I meant what I said, though.  You and Becca are the most important people in my life.  I just thought that maybe, since things with us have been getting pretty serious, that it was time to introduce you to her.”

Y/N nodded, looking down at her hands.  “I’m sorry, too.  I just panicked.  You’ve given me no reason to be worried or stressed about it, I just…I don’t know.”  She shook her head, upset with herself.  “And then I freaked out and ran away.  I don’t know how to do this whole healthy communication thing.  I’ve never experienced it before.”

Bucky stood and walked to the bed, sitting next to her.  He slowly reached a hand out and gently grasped her hand closest to him.  “It’s gonna take practice, for both of us.  And we’re going to mess up sometimes, like today.  But I, I love you,” he said, squeezing her hand.  “I don’t want to lose you over something that we can fix.  So…can we just try this again?”

Y/N smiled.  “Yeah.”

Buck smiled at her.  “Okay.  So, I was thinking about inviting my sister to Sunday brunch at that bottomless mimosa place you love.  Would you be okay with that?”

Y/N squinted her eyes teasingly.  “So…officially meeting the family?  That’s kind of a big step, don’t you think?”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Yeah, it is.  But it’s a step I wanna take with you.”

Y/N’s cheeks were starting to hurt with how hard she was smiling.  “Okay,” she agreed.

He smiled brightly back at her.  “Awesome.  You’re gonna love her.  Her name is Becca.  She’s older than me by two years.  Very smart and artistic.  She designed my house, you know?” He joked, winking at her.

“She did?” Y/N joked back.  “Wow.  And she must be really pretty if she looks anything like you.”  

Bucky blushed at the compliment.  “You tryna sweeten me up?” he smirked.

“Maybe a little bit,” Y/N said, turning to face him more.  She lifted her free hand and traced it up his arm holding her other hand to his shoulder then across his chest.  “I love you,” she said quietly, leaning over and kissing his shoulder.

Bucky smiled softly at her.  “I love you, doll.”  

She glanced at the backpack he brought.  “Did you pack up some stuff just in case I let you stay?”

“Yep,” Bucky said shamelessly.  “I can’t really sleep without you.”  He suddenly pushed her back onto the bed and tucked her into his side.  “Thank you for agreeing to meet her.”

Y/N smiled.  “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

[morbethgames]

Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link