#The woke way to exploit girls

[coochiequeens]

When I say "Stop transing minors" I don't just mean medically transitioning, I also mean stop exposing kids to overly sexualized situations.

By Shay Woulahan April 24, 2024

A 14-year-old girl who identifies as a “drag king” and is being transitioned to a “boy” has reportedly been performing sexually suggestive shows at LGBT clubs and bars across Vancouver, Canada. The minor, who is disabled and autistic, goes by “he/him/they/it” pronouns and is taking testosterone under the permission of her mother.

The child, who was born female but identifies as a “boy,” uses the stage name “Nova Tropica” and has performed in at least three LGBT bars in Vancouver, all of which are adult venues that serve alcohol. Among the clubs Nova has danced at are The Fountainhead Pub, Steamworks brewpub, and The Junction.

According to Gays Against Groomers, during her performance at The Foundationhead Pub, a gay bar located on Davie Street, the child danced with only tape covering the front of her breasts.

The child as seen in an uncensored video posted to Instagram.

Nova maintains a YouTube channel where she often uploads footage of her performances.

In August of 2023, she shared a video of her dancing on stage in a bar to the song “Bubblegum B*tch” and is seen collecting dollar bills from audience members. In another video, Nova is seen dancing alone to the Britney Spears’ controversial song “If U Seek Amy,” which is intended to sound out the letters “F-U-C-K me.”

In some of the videos posted to her YouTube account, she is seen dancing to an adult crowd wearing only a cut-out bathing suit, an outfit she has also posed in for photos shared to her social media while wearing clear, stiletto “pleasers,” a form of platform high-heel most frequently associated with stripping, pole dancing, and the sex trade.

As well as posting footage of her performances to YouTube, Nova also maintains an Instagram page where she posts clips of herself dancing on stage while exclusively adult crowds cheer her on. In many of the videos, Nova is wearing revealing clothing and, during one performance, she even spreads her legs for the audience.

On her Instagram, which was made private shortly after her activities were first exposed by Gays Against Groomers, Nova also frequently posted about her mental health struggles, though continuously insisted her “neurodivergence” was unrelated to her desire to transition.

“The only way they could even correlate is through the way I view my gender,” Nova said in the caption of one post where she described herself as a “demon boy” and said she’s “everything Lucifer wants her to be.”

In another post, in which she wears a cut-out swimsuit she has performed in, Nova said she “loves” how testosterone is starting to affect her muscle definition.

Nova’s transition has been supported by her mother Chrysta. On her own Instagram page, Chrysta posted about how she had been struggling to access hormones for her daughter since she was just 11 years old.

In the post, Chrysta acknowledges that Nova is experiencing poor mental health, but attributes her condition to “being born in the wrong body.” She also condemns the Canadian political parties attempting to pass legislation which would protect children from medical transitioning.

“I will not allow any government to MURDER my child,” Chrysta said in one post. “Forcing a child to live in a body that is not authentic to their person is MURDER.”

The post was made in reference to the People’s Party of Canada, which developed a 7-point plan to protect women and children from the harmful effects of gender ideology, such as banning men from women’s spaces and sports and banning genital mutilation surgeries and cross-sex hormones for minors.

Not only has Chrysta facilitated Nova’s transition, but she also confesses to monitoring her social media, meaning she is aware of the inappropriate videos and photos being posted online of her minor daughter.

In one post, she addressed rumors that an adult Drag King had behaved inappropriately in messages with her young daughter, claiming the concerns were “false accusations.”

But her notice was not the only suggestion that Nova has been in contact with adult drag performers.

On Instagram, Nova spoke about attending a youth summer “drag camp” hosted by “Rose Butch” and “DeeDee LaCraze.”

DeeDee LaCraze also operates a YouTube channel called “Drag4Kids” where he has made multiple videos in full drag singing nursery rhymes. LaCraze hosts his youth drag camp along side Rose Butch, a trans identified female who calls herself a “non-binary drag thing.”

The summer camp, held in July 2023, was made available for children as young as 7.

There has been an uptick in the number of children performing drag, often in bars and clubs, in recent years. Last April, a video went viral showing a young “drag queen” dancing at a party sponsored by a gay hookup app.

Arguably one of the most well-known “drag kids” is Desmond Napoles, who goes by the name “Desmond is Amazing.” Desmond rose to fame at only 11 years old in 2017 after being featured on RuPaul’s Drag Race. Soon after, the child appeared in YouTube and Facebook streams alongside adult men, and was even filmed joking about snorting ketamine.

With the increase in “drag kids” has come further scrutiny of the sexual predators involved in the drag scene. In 2022, a “drag kid” mentor and a former elementary school teaching assistant faced child pornography charges following an investigation into exploitative material shared on the internet.

[tinytennisskirt]

Sweet Tooth

summary: the motions of patrick zweig, sleeping around for a place to stay, finding culinary genius! reader who owns a bakery- and things don’t go as planned, but he couldn’t end up more grateful for it.

warnings: cutesy. unsuspected feelings. lots of flirting. player/dirtbag turned boyfriend! patrick <333 kissinggg. smut! fingering, mentions of oral. sex. the L word. lots of fluff, and a very sweet ending.

- Patrick is not the kind of guy who denies himself a dessert. He’s not one of those sports guys obsessed with macros and calories. He knows moderation, he knows he’s an active guy who can afford to get himself something. He’s in his car, still living in it, when he passes a new bakery. He’s just spent money on food and gas, so he’s not able to head in, but it looks like a cute little place and he promises to check it out when he has the spare cash.

- he’s still whoring himself out for a place to stay. he can’t afford not to. he’s spending time on tinder, swiping as he lays himself down in the back seat. something is up with the settings, he’s getting older women. like older older. geriatric, almost. they’re probably established and have houses, but he does have some standards. he goes to the age settings and sets it back. or somewhat close to it. he’s including 18-up. he sits up a little frustrated, looking at these 18 year old girls and swiping to maybe find someone with a better age. there’s 23, 22, 27… 27 wasn’t so bad.

- it’s you. and you’re pretty. the kind of pretty patrick knows that he doesn’t deserve, but when he swipes a yes on you, you’ve already swiped yes on him as well. it’s a match. he takes that and shuts off his phone, going to sleep.

- he wakes up to a text on tinder from you, it’s recent, he woke up two minutes after you first texted. it’s only ‘hiii’. he sits up, texts you back. you’re not far at all, he’s got a date with you tonight at some local italian bar.

- he’s wearing a sweater when he meets you at the bar. his best one. usually he’s not too picky about it but you’re prettier than his usual exploit. so why not enjoy it? he looks friendly, approaching you with a smile and his hand extended, freshly out of his jean pocket. you’re prettier in person, he notes, shaking your hand, letting it linger just a half-second extra in yours.

- you’re in something pretty, but casual. tall boots, a sweater that hangs off your shoulder, and a little skirt that wasn’t all that little. modest, something he isn’t used to. the most modest women he’d dated had been the shameless dates that he desperately asked for, the poor women sometimes coming straight from work. you have a winning smile and your hand is soft and he sits next to you at the bar, exchanging his name for yours properly.

- “so you play tennis professionally?” you ask, leaning on your hand. you’re smiling at him and you are so sweet. “are you any good?”

“i’d say so.” he grins. “might be.”

“you could be sooo bad at tennis and you’d still be better than me,” you tell him. “anything that stands out in your career? i’m so curious.”

he tsked, looking at his drink in front of him. you were interested in him, wanted to talk about him. the ego boost he needed. “won the junior us open a few years back.” he said. it wasn’t that impressive but tell it to someone who doesn’t know tennis and it sounds like a feat.

“how long ago were you considered junior?” you smiled a little slyly. he’s never been caught on that before. “how old did you say you were.”

he smirked, just a little stuck. “thirty-five.”

“so a while ago.” you smiled. “i don’t know anything about tennis, i’ll keep pretending for you.” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink with a cute little grin. you were a little bit spicy along with the sweet, he could get behind that. literally.

- he’s talking to you and you’re swirling your drink around with a sly little smile and you’re cute in a way where he’s just a little curious about your character. you’re more than one-sided and it’s intriguing but he doesn’t want it to get so far. he’s here to fuck you at your place, stay over, and leave with his shoes in his hand in the morning. he makes small talk, his face close to yours, the banter enticing and sexy but still somewhat tame. you had a personality, a good one, one he liked. sometimes it was just a little too easy and you weren’t. you were more of a riddle, something he wanted to figure out.

- you had a twinkle in your eye. flirting came naturally to you, you were almost at his level. the conversation continued over forty-five minutes and two easy drinks.

- the bar food you ordered comes in a really badly plated, ugly little container with the food attached to the tissue. you pick up a piece, looking at it. “we’re not eating this.” you say, finishing your drink. “c’mon.” and you hop off the bar stool.

patrick looks at you, looks at the food in front of the two of you. he was hungry, this was how he was getting his food for today. he’d eat it… “hm?”

“come with me.” you said, putting down the money for his drink and yours. he had just scrapped together just enough to pay for your drinks, but he didn’t stop you. “we aren’t eating bar food.”

this hasn’t ever happened to him. he stood up, looking at you just a little confused, but a sly smirk resting on his lips. you were leaving with him already- what did that mean? “where are we going?” he’d been here for about an hour and you were getting him to leave with you, he thought you weren’t easy.

“you’ll see. come on, come on, you’re so slow,” you giggled, leading him out and onto the street. “mmm, i know what you’re thinking.”

“yeah?”

“she’s easy.” you said. “she’s easy and she’s leaving with me.”

he chuckled, “i wasn’t.” he was. he walked beside you on the traffic side of the sidewalk. it wasn’t his usual conquest, but he’d take it.

“i am not easy, however, things come easily to me.” you grinned. he rubbed his chin just a little, looking at you as you walked. it was late, but you lead him into one of the little asian supermarkets that were somehow open 24/7. “like guessing. you’re a steak guy, hm?”

“might be���” he nodded, looking around. you knew exactly where you were going, it seemed, the way you walked so quickly that he didn’t have time to see anything up close before you were in the meat section. “why?”

“peppercorn?”

“yeah.” it had been a good few years since he’d had steak. he had his hands in his pocket as you picked up the packaged meat and put it into one of the thin little plastic bags. you spun away from the meat section and over to the vegetables. you picked up a pack of mushrooms and two zucchini.

“you like vegetables?”

“what’s the green one?”

“zucchini.” you smiled. “oh my god, you’ve never had it. perfect.”

he was so lost, just following you. he wasn’t going to leave but this was definitely weird. you were cute, bounding around in your sweater, grabbing a few other things. a clove of garlic and some other little bottle of something.

- you check out at the counter and it’s more money than he’s seen in two years. you’re not rich, he knows that, he would have known it. he’s still just so lost and you turn to him as you walk out of the store. “bored yet?” you asked.

“not at all,” he nods. “can i ask about this?”

“yes, you can ask about it.” you tell him.

“you usually take your dates grocery shopping?”

“that’s not asking about it,” you reply, with a smile, turning at the corner. he’s following you, a grin on his own face. you’re cheeky. and your sweater is falling further down your shoulder. he takes a bag to help you carry it. the things he does for a place to stay… “and no, not usually.”

he chuckles, “so…”

“so you’re lucky i hate bar food.”

he laughs, quietly muttering, ‘what the fuck’. but he’s glad, he’s into it. you’re different.

- you continue to lead him and you stop outside the bakery he noted just yesterday. shiny, new, and you have keys. you have the keys. you work here. “you coming?” you ask him. you’re holding the door open for him. he takes the door from you and you slink inside, walking around to turn the lights on. the blinds are shut and the lighting is pretty. fairy lights on the wall, wall lamps, all yellow and pretty.

“you work here?”

“something like that,” you smile, bringing the food back into the kitchen. he follows, looking over everything. “i might own it…”

“might?”

“maybe…” you smile. he’s a little taken aback by that, but it’s occurring to him he didn’t ask what you do. you’re a baker.

he grins, sliding around you as you bend to grab things from the cupboards. a cutting board, a knife, and you start running the big sink in the corner. he watches you quietly as you tie your hair up off your neck and pull your sweater off over your head. you have a pretty little tank top underneath, square neckline and thick straps. he’s never been so far away from a girl while she strips. you turn to him, “i don’t bite.” you grin. he notices how quiet he’s gone.

“no? i was counting on it.”

“yeah?” you say, unsheathing your chefs knife. he steps closer to you, smirk on his face. he’s a shameless guy, he’s not afraid of your rejection. but you grab a zucchini and press it against his chest. a long, thick, suggestive vegetable, but you kindly, and slowly, with a seductive tone to your voice and looking up at him through your eyelashes… tell him to help you cut it up.

- you’re cooking for him, he figures out. you’re cooking food. real food, just on a whim. it’s kind of you to a point that he feels just the slightest bit bad about what his intentions are. “you do this for every guy? steak and vegetables?”

“you’re just the odd lucky one.” you tell him, adding the vegetables to the pan. the meat is done. “food, real food is so important. taste is important as well as the sanitization process- it’s so easy to get food poisoning from a bar. here, less likely.“

“good to know.” he said, his back against the counter next to you, watching you cook. it smelled amazing. “i appreciate it.” he was genuine. not only did you save him from potential food poisoning, but you saved him from being hungry tonight. “thanks.”

“i am sorry it’s not a cheap bar date, if that’s really what you’re into.”

“i don’t usually get dragged to bakeries at 10pm, it’s a good change.”

you stir the vegetables around, “so you date a lot?”

“i wouldn’t say a lot…” he says. “enough.”

- you talk to him about that. you ask if he’s dating to date or dating for potential and he just smiles. how can he tell the woman making him dinner from scratch that he’s not looking for anything serious?

- you nod, deducting his answer from his lack of answer. you’re cleaning as you go and you plate up the food all perfect and pretty and hand it to him. you clean the last dish and put everything back. “i really hope you like it or i just yanked you away from perfectly bad bar food.”

“i’m going to like it. thank you, this is amazing.” he tells you. he drops the sly act, he can’t keep it up over the fact you made him food. real food. good food. he’s been starving. he could kiss you right now. he probably would have, shamelessly, if there wasn’t a plate between the two of you. he decides against it.

- you sit down with him at one of the cafe tables, watching him eat the first bite. then the second with hardly enough time between. it’s delicious, he makes a mental note to put effort in when he fucks you later. you giggle just a little, “it’s not going anywhere.”

“m’sorry-it’s good,” he says, mouth full. it’s a turn off, but for a cook and a baker, its one of the best things. you lean your cheek on your hand again, it kind of smushes your face and patrick’s only thoughts are that the steak is good and that you’re pretty. pretty is different than gorgeous. you’re gorgeous too, of course, but you’re pretty because you’re cute. you’re cute. and it’s weird to think so. when you were down to meet him so quickly, on such short notice, he thought this would be something fast. he tells himself that he’s only feeling differently because this date is taking longer than his usual. by now he’s usually inside of whoever he’s gone out with.

- his lack of table manners is something you can afford to not mind. he’s tall, he’s got nice curls, a nice beard, a good nose, and a gorgeous grin. he’s asking you questions about your bakery and it’s surprising to him too when he realizes he’s been actually listening. the conversation at hand is engaging and he’s into it probably as much as he’s into you.

- “so the tennis thing, you still do that? like all the time?” you asked him, twirling your fork between your fingers.

“all the time.” he nodded back. “not as much as i used to when i was on tour. it’s good though. i get by on challengers.”

“they pay you?” he nods back and takes another bite of his food. “how much usually? is that rude?”

he grins, you’re polite. “not rude-mm- depends on the challenger. sometimes hundreds or around a thousand if you win the whole thing.”

“yeah? that’s not bad. some pocket money,” you smiled, taking another bite. for patrick, it wasn’t pocket money, it was all his money. “i wish baking brought you places. i would love to travel but i spent almost all i had to stay still. to get this place- and to get all the things to go in it.”

“it looks great,” he replied, nodding. “is it doing well so far?” who was he? invested in you? your life? your success? he was almost done with his meal.

“it is.” you smiled. you were pretty, grinning so wide over your passion. “it’s a lot of work, this is the only night i’ve had off in a while. i am usually… in bed by now. i have early starts. i’m a grandma, i know.”

he grinned, “i don’t mind.”

- dinner ends and patrick doesn’t let you get the dishes. you follow him back into the kitchen and you let him wash the dishes while you rinse, then sanitize, then dry. drying his hands, he squeezed past you, hands on your waist as he passes you. you turn around, just a little jumpy. you’re jumpy. something possesses him to say sorry. and mean it. “no, it’s okay, i just…” he’s not imagining the pink in your cheeks. god you’re so cute, it’s disturbing some part of him he didn’t know was active. you cover your mouth and turn back to the dishes, stacking them neatly.

- patrick is honestly ready to leave. he could go, he’d sleep in his car, it was fine. but walking out on you felt wrong. after that meal… you’re in the fridge, looking around on your tiptoes. “i was so sure i had something chocolate in here. it’s not on this shelf… it’s not on…” he comes into the fridge behind you, met by the cold air. he reaches above you.

“this it?” he asks, gesturing to the row of chocolate desserts. you nod. he advances, moving the closest he’s been to you- his cologne, a little bit musky and a hint of cigarettes hits your nose. usually you wouldn’t allow heavy scents near your food, but he smelled so good maybe it slipped your mind.

- he eats like a starved man. he really does. he’s so grateful, beyond, to have something so good for free. to him, you’re an angel sent to cure his hunger. you clean up for the last time.

“do you want to come up for coffee?” you ask him.

“come up?”

“my apartment is upstairs,” you smile and it’s kind and its not laced with any sort of lust the way most women ask for him to come over to theirs. “come up? i have beer if that’s more your speed.”

he grins, leaning toward you. he’s taller than you by a good bit. and he’s gorgeous. and your heart skips. “if you’re offering.”

“i just might be.” you twist from side to side. he’s so smitten by you. you’re hot but you’re kind and you’re sexy as hell and you know that, but you don’t act like you know it.

- you bring him upstairs and he’s looking over everything you have in your dimly lit, yellowy apartment. you have a lot of things to observe, but you beckon him to the couch while you get him a beer from your fridge. you’re not drinking anything. you just sit next to him on your knees, leaning against the back of your couch. he thanks you. he means it.

“it’s a nice place.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “you own it? or do you rent?”

“i own it. i’ve been working since i was young and my parents hardly ever let me spend a penny.” you tell him. he’s impressed. more than. “it smells like brownies permanently, i think.”

he smiles, watching you look around. his eyes fall on your lips, on your body. “mm no, smells like you.” he states, eyes falling on the little painting of a cake on the wall.

you giggle, “me? my perfume?”

“mmm no.” he said. “you smell good.”

“thank you,” you grinned. “so do you.”

he chuckled against the lip of his beer bottle, dimples showing. “so you really don’t cook for all your dates?”

“i never have before, no.” you say, hiding half your face as if you’re shy. “i’m sorry if it was a bit much. or forward of me. i’m just so against bar food, it’s a culinary disgrace and i just… i like my kitchen. and i love to cook.”

“i’m not complaining,” he replied. he set his beer down.

- you got to talking about food and he told you all about the phase he had where he’d get taco bell every tuesday. you’re not a fast food person. he knows that. but you’re laughing in disgust when he tells you the things he used to get and it feels oddly worth it. he’s inching closer to you in conversation, leaning in more every minute. and you’re talking very closely and all of your expressions are so beautiful. more than pretty or cute or gorgeous, you are beautiful.

- your hands are resting on his knee. both of them, overlapping each other. he’s smirking at you, the sly remark you just made with the most innocent eyes. it’s getting later into the night, it’s almost 1am. the date is going on a lot longer than he thought. you were probably going to make him leave soon. he hasn’t even kissed you. he could have to shut you up. you talked a lot but you were very passionate and you also dove into a lot about him. he could have shut you up. he wasn’t against kissing spontaneously to get what he wanted but he was listening to you… he wanted to hear what you had to say.

- the night continued and you had your head rested against the back of the couch, listening to him talk about tennis. when he stopped, you’d ask another question about gameplay so he’d keep talking and you just listened. and he was enjoying it. more than anything he’d enjoyed in a long while. and as you continued to get tired, so does he. he wants to kiss you, he tells himself he will, he’ll definitely kiss you when you finish your sentence and no. you both, tired, slowly fall asleep. it’s a mistake that he passed on coffee for beer.

- it’s the most connection he’s had with anyone in a while. the way you spoke to him was different, was fun, was filled with your personality and your sweetness. your head fell on his chest and you slept the night on the couch like that. at least it wasn’t his car.

- he wakes up first to the girl who he didn’t fuck or even kiss laying on his chest. it’s a trap is the first thought in his head. how did he get to stay over without fucking you? some loophole. he ignores the fact he was too invested in you as a person to do anything. though he wished he did, you’re perfect.

- you wake up and you sit up like nothing happened. “fuck.” you sigh, rubbing your eye. “fell asleep.” you smile. “hi.”

“hey,” he replied and he’s unable to stop the smile he has in response. “i think i’ll take that coffee now if you’re offering.”

“was just about to ask,” you grinned. you got up, your hair just a little messy, and hopped over to the kitchen to make the coffee. like you didn’t spend a night on a stranger’s chest. like you didn’t just wake up on top of him. he liked that about you. “do you take cream, milk, sugar?”

patrick got up from the couch, walked over to you. “black.” he said. “hey- about that-“

“don’t worry about it.” you smile. “it got so late, i don’t even remember falling asleep.”

he wouldn’t have apologized but something about sleeping over without fucking you just felt selfish and unfair. like he didn’t pay for it. and he felt even more that way because not only had you fed him, but you had cooked for him. his way of thinking was fucked but it was how it was. “you’re sweet.” you said.

“hm?”

“you’re sweet. you care too much, though.” you tell him. nobody has ever said those words to him in his life. he grins. “sense of adventure. sleeping on a stranger’s couch by accident and the cause being passionate conversation.”

“it’s definitely something,” he takes the coffee from you. “thanks.” how is he supposed to leave now? coffee in hand.

“and i know you’re not looking for anything serious, so don’t read too much into it. i’ll do that for you.” you were so cheeky and he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. you took down your hair, letting it fall. he should have fucked you…

- you talk as you make breakfast. you don’t mention that you’re doing so, but you are and he won’t stop you. he should be on his way, but you’re talking to him and he’s listening and he just can’t bring himself to make up an excuse to go. you’re as sweet as the things you make and it’s hard to ignore the fact that you are different. maybe it’s the fact he’s not currently clouded by lust, the need to have you in that way isn’t very forefront, seeing as he had a place to stay without it.

- “waffles or pancakes? because every time i ask this, i get someone’s bullshit answer. there’s a very real answer to this.”

“really? and what if i’m wrong?”

“then no food.” you say, pointing at him with your spatula. “okay go.”

“waffles.” he says.

“mmm nope.” you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “you’re a victim of the syrup puddle delusion. pancakes are sooo much better, they are so absorbent. it’s the only way to go. especially with chocolate chip.” and the conversation is dumb. but you’re young, he can’t expect you to be all serious. it’s new and it’s fresh and it’s fun. you’re fun.

- noon hits and he’s helping you clean. “i’m sorry if i’ve held you hostage,” you tell him, setting aside the freshly cleaned plates. “hope you know you were free to go hours ago.”

“i knew, i knew,” he chuckled. “it’s not every day a professional wants to hold you hostage and cook for you.”

“so you just want me for my cooking. typical. typical,” you tease. “here i thought you were different.”

“the cooking is a bonus. not that your food isn’t amazing, it is. really fucking good. it’s also not often i like who’s cooking it.”

“oh my god you like me? really?” you tease him. it’s cute.

“shhh, okay,” he nods. he’s not a liar. “yeah. i think so.”

“crazy.” you whisper, dragging your hand over his arm and back as you walk past him, smiling. you’re different, you’re doing things that are making him feel things deeper than he probably should. he tells himself it’s just because it’s longer than he thought- but he did wake up with his arms around you… that’s something he’s never done with any woman he’s ever slept with, intentional or not. but he also didn’t sleep with you, sleep with you.

- he says goodbye around 1pm. he’s overstayed for sure but you don’t show any signs of it. and the conversation was never boring. it was a lot of talking and as he stood at the exit of the bakery, people trying to brush by him to get in (other staff were working obviously), he couldn’t even get the chance to kiss you goodbye. not even that. though as he walked back to his car, he found that he really had wanted to.

- he’s back on tinder later. a place to stay is a place to stay. he’s got a process and he’s safe, he didn’t sleep with you. he’s scrolling, but suddenly he’s extra picky. it’s weird. all these ideal matches, women he’d be fine with are suddenly just not it. you’re not out of his mind, but that’s fine, another woman would erase you. no problem. if only he could pick one, find one… if all else fails he’d go to a bar and find one there.

- he doesn’t. he gives up. he sleeps in his car. and he’s thinking about you. how you brought him back to your business, cooked a whole meal for him, a nice meal, an expensive one, let him sleep over, and made you breakfast and you let him slip out the door. was that casual for you? he couldn’t help but to think about it, about you. about how the closest he got to you was while you were both asleep. it was an occurrence that just… didn’t happen in the day to day. he fell asleep before he could do anything, that was rare, that was comfortable, that was… strange. and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. a day passes in between.

- he’s unsurprised when you message again a day later, but glad. the sun is setting, he has to move his phone to avoid the orange glare.

y: hey :)

p: hi, how are you?

y: i’m good, how are you?

p: the same.

y: what are you up to?

p: not much. just finished at the court.

he lied, of course. he had to come across as busy, that’s just how it was when girls called back. too busy.

y: ooh fun.

y: any chance you want to swing by? i baked something new and i need a test audience.

how could he say no? free food was free food… he climbed into the front seat and put his keys in the ignition. and he was going to see you again.

- he came in, different jeans, different shirt. a t-shirt this time, black. biceps and forearms on display. your bakery is busy and smells like fresh bread and chocolate and there you are, smiling, gorgeous, helping a little girl hold the baked goods for her mom, teaching her to hold the bag ‘nice and straight’. he catches your eye, wandering in, looking at the atmosphere when it’s full of people. “patrick, hi,” you smile, coming out from behind the counter.

he once again can’t help but grin back at you. “hey. wow. it’s busy.”

“it is, it is, but we close in an hour, so it’ll die down. i didn’t think you’d be here now, i mean, i texted like ten minutes ago…”

it dawns on him that he just launched into action at your call. well, fuck. that didn’t look so good for him. he chuckled to himself, a little embarrassed. “i might have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“for me,” you grin, teasing.” no, i get it, who doesn’t?”

he chuckles, “uh-huh, okay, yeah- i wouldn’t know.”

“thought so,” you say, and you take his hand, leading him into the back, where your little chefs are doing their last tasks, cleaning up for the day. “m’kay, come here. try this.” you pick up a fork grab him a bite and you’re driving it to his mouth. he’s got no choice but to eat it. he does, laughing at how you just force fed him something, but his expression changes as how good it is. “it’s good?”

he speaks with his mouth still full- “it’s so good, what the fuck?”

you grin. it’s the first of many times he’s going to be force fed new items, he just doesn’t know that just yet. “you like it? really?”

“mmm- really, yeah. what is that?”

“it’s cinnamon and chocolate with a vanilla base to mimic simple pastry. its got a bit of a fudge to the chocolate and the cinnamon is freshly ground. it’s a cupcake inspired by a churro.” you jump up and down just a little. he could kiss you for this.

“can i buy this off you right now?”

“bold to think you can buy anything off of me.” you scoff, picking up one of the tray. you grab the icing spatula and quickly spread the light brown icing over it and reach over to a little dark brown bottle. you drizzle the dark liquid over it and sprinkle something on top and hand it to him.

“i’ve got ten dollars in my pocket,”

“thought you were just happy to see me,” you mock-sighed, then smiled. “no way i’m letting you pay, that’s crazy. you’re my tester.”

he rolled his eyes a little, smiling back. “just might be over this cupcake.”

“really?” you stepped a little closer, cupcake in hand, looking up at him. you were sexy, and you made it look innocent- it was bad, it was really bad, there were too many people here to do what he wanted to do. he twisted his mouth to the side, trying not to smile too much. “we close in thirty.”

“thought you said an hour?”

“thirty.” you replied, grabbing the oven gloves and taking a few final things out, beginning to wrap things. “i’ll be up in twenty if you want to go up? grab anything in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

you really did lure him back to you with food. he grinned to himself, nodding and heading upstairs they way he knew how from last time.

- he does help himself to the cucumber in your fridge. he figures you’ll miss it least and it’ll tide him over. it’s weird being in someone’s apartment without them. especially after only knowing them a few hours. but it’s worth it, you come with free food and a place to potentially stay. he tells himself that, anyway. he’s using you. or so he tells himself.

- he takes the time to walk around your apartment, seeing more than just the living room couch. you aren’t the most neat person ever, but you keep your things where they need to be. he peeks into your room, looking at the curtains that drape the windows, the big bed, the bedside table with so many things on it. soon enough you’re upstairs, he’s on your couch again. you open the door and the scent of the bakery downstairs floods your apartment. he’s almost sane about the way you take your hair down and unbutton your cardigan. he’s pretending like you aren’t hot. and when you sit on the couch next to him you sit closely. “hi.”

“hey.”

“do you drink wine? red wine?”

“only if i’m not drinking it alone.”

you laugh, “it’s more for me than for you. i need it after today.”

“fair.” he followed you with his eyes as you climbed over the back of the couch and into the kitchen, reaching for the wine bottle. “so it was a busy day. i knew you’d get customers, but that was wild.”

“very,” you screwed the bottle open and got two glasses and you filled them up generously. “we had a little girl come in and she dropped her dad’s entire order and he asked that we make him more for free. i had to explain that we couldn’t do that- it was around $200 wasted on the floor. he was sooo angry.”

patrick met you in the kitchen and you handed him a glass of wine. “so what did you end up doing?”

“i kicked him out.” you said, drinking the wine. “i don’t like disrespectful people- he demanded i make more, even after i offered a different cake.”

“good for you.” patrick nodded. “i wouldn’t take that either. guy wouldn’t even take the cake you offered?”

you finished your generous glass. he wouldn’t judge. “no. which is crazy considering the cake matched his fucking price- god it makes me so mad. he wouldn’t even take what i, myself, spent time and money on.”

patrick enjoyed your passion. “if it would make you feel better, i probably would have eaten the ruined product.”

“should i have called on you earlier for clean up? maybe then it wouldn’t have felt so much like a waste.” you laughed. “i actually wasn’t sure if i should at all.- sorry, the wine- that was weird of me to say.”

he shook his head, “not weird. it’s fair. i don’t usually text post-date.”

“mmm. it didn’t go well enough? holy fuck- i am so sorry, i should not chug wine.”

he laughed, stepping just a little closer. “no it’s just… hm.” he stopped himself. “it was actually one of the best dates i’ve been on in a while.”

“you waited for me to call on you again? like a girl?”

“no, i just.. i don’t usually go on second dates.”

“oh.” you nodded, pouring yourself more wine and topping his off. “but you showed up.”

“maybe i’m just here for the wine and baked goods.”

you lean your back against the counter but somehow you’re closer to him. maybe he took a step forward. either way… “don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone about your soft spot for me.”

he smirked, “who said anything about a soft spot?”

you lean just a little more toward him. “don’t tell me i actually lured you back here with food. i think you like me.”

“yeah? guess i need a better poker face then, hm?”

you sipped again, “or… you could admit that you like my company. or me. either one. both.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

you rolled your eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear. “oh, fun. you’re looking for fun.” you nod, setting your glass on the counter and hopping up on it. patrick takes the extra space that you used to stand in and he’s still taller than you sitting on the counter. he smells good like he did the other day, cologne and cigarettes and to him. you note the biceps and you didn’t get to see when he wore a sweater the other night. they’re nice… he looks over you still, close to you. “nothing more than fun?”

“maybe a little more than fun.”

“oh? and it’s not the wine?”

“no, it’s not the wine,” he scratches the back of his head.

“soooo…?”

“might be you.”

you giggled, cheering just a little. “oh my god, he admits it. this is crazy, should i bake a cake? what do i win, a third date?”

“you’re ambitious,” he grins, stepping closer to you. his body is between your knees, he’s looking down at you. your heart picks up pace.

“tell me to my face you don’t ever want to see me again.”

“i can’t do that.”

“thought so.”

- he leans forward the same way you tilt your head up. he’s got that sick little smirk on his lips and his eyes fall from your eyes to your lips.

“so third date?”

“maybe,” he’s getting closer. his body is as close to yours as it can be without being completely pressed against. your legs are on either side of his hips, it’s suggestive, it’s sexy, and you are smiling like you’re proud of yourself for something. he taps under your chin, “fine.”

you smile wider, eyes meeting his lips as well. you’re no better than him. especially after that chin tap. he could rush into this, kiss you hard, but there’s something about the slowness that is enticing and hot. your eyelids and his both close just slightly, half-lidded, his nose brushes yours, your wine glass is heard being set back down on the counter. his scent mixed with the wine on his breath is intoxicating in itself.

- the phone rings. loud. it’s loud and it’s startling and it ruins everything. usually he wouldn’t give up at something like that but it’s… you. and it was ruined. he could have kissed you and he didn’t because it wasn’t perfect. which was strange. because usually he wouldn’t give that much of a fuck. he backed away and you looked at him apologetically, slipping off the counter, your hand trailing down his arm as you did, before getting the phone. it’s one of your product suppliers calling because he thought you were still open. you laugh, apologizing to the supplier.

- patrick feels like he should leave. usually it’s so cut and dry, he goes on the date, he goes back, he fucks, he leaves. it’s a simple process and it works. but you are you and you’re different and he hasn’t even kissed you and he’s standing in your kitchen waiting for you to finish on the phone after a near-first kiss. now the regular him in his regular pattern wouldn’t count any kiss with a number but you’ve got some grip on him that he can’t deny. even got him to say yes to a third date. his hand in his pocket. who is he to deny himself anything?

- he feels like a horny teenager with a girl whose parents are in the driveway. it’s not the time for a kiss, he’s listening to your conversation and it seems like there’s a calculating issue.

- he’s standing, red wine glass in hand. he’s looking over the ladybug magnets on your fridge. he takes a sip, then places the glass on the counter. he hears the click of the phone back on it’s base and turns to look at you, “where were we?” you ask, hopping back over to him and pulling him in by his shirt. he didn’t see that coming, but gladly, his lips are on yours. it’s a strong kiss, he’s pressed against you, bent just a little because he’s too tall. your hands holding his face, your hips connecting with his. he grabs your waist, keeping you there. his hands are strong and guiding and they are surprisingly still. and it’s a kiss. a long kiss. surprisingly long to patrick who is used to a multitude of messy kisses in the heat of a moment. this moment is heated differently. and the kiss is long and hard with gentle breaks between for breaths and it’s just… nice. he tastes the way he smells and apparently so do you. unsurprisingly sweet with the taste of wine.

- you pull away first. not him. you. he would keep kissing you if you didn’t stop. his lips stay parted and you hover over them a second longer before you pull away entirely. “so about that third date… i think we should-“

- he sits with you on the couch again and he asks you about you. your bakery stories. your culinary school stories. and he’s laughing and so are you and the bottle of wine is done for and you haven’t even kissed again. he wants to kiss you. he’s staring at your lips and he wants to kiss you again. he can’t stop thinking about how it felt. who knew a kiss without sex was still so fucking good? he hadn’t kissed anyone like since- well since Tashi, but Tashi wasn’t ever feeling the same way on the other end of things but you so were. you were and this made for probably one of his top five kisses. top three. top two.

- the third date is at a restaurant you deem ‘good’ and when dinner is over, he walks you back to your apartment above the bakery and you kiss him at the door. another good kiss. shorter than the first. it’s somehow only your second kiss and he’s known you for about a week. but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to know all of the things about you. soon enough you have plans to see each other again.

- it’s over lava cake now. you tried two different recipes and you need him to try both and he’s completely down. you sit on the counter and you make him open his mouth to give him the bites you’ve perfectly prepared with the side of fresh strawberries and it’s erotic, somehow, the way your thumb moves over his lower lip to remove the excess chocolate. not only that, but you put your thumb in your own mouth. you’re teasing him. you’re evil, he deducts.

“better or worse than the first?”

“shuttt uppp,” he drags it out as he kisses you. what is known to him as the third kiss between you. kissing you with no intention of bringing you to your bed is something addictive. maybe it’s just you. the way you kiss him. your hand travels up the back of his neck and into his hair and you’re grinning when you part for air, his hands are on your waist and he’s pressed against you. it’s hard to stop kissing you. he finds it every time. you taste like chocolate and strawberries.

- you kiss him, letting his hand slide up the back of your shirt, his warm hands on your skin. you pull away, “you want to go upstairs?” you breathe.

“i still have to compare the two.”

“there’s better things upstairs to eat, i promise,” you grin. “was that so bad.”

“that was not so bad but from you i think it might be.”

“oh i knew it, but i had to make the joke at some point.” you smile and he smiles back at you before kissing you again. and he just kisses you. over and over and over. and he never even goes upstairs that night.

- he gets to kiss you more often. you see him more often. he’s over at yours or you go to a park and it’s just nice. the consistency is surprisingly nice and he doesn’t even mind sleeping in his car, he’s got something good going. he hasn’t had sex in a while but it’s worth it, really worth it. he didn’t want to ditch the lifestyle but it was you and you were smart and kind and a little bit mean in a sexy way and he was only getting older. he deleted tinder.

- he’s kissing you, “patrick- I have to- go back- downstairs,” he’s kissing you all he can to get you to stay. He slept over on the couch and you brought him coffee and a bakery croissant so he’s not letting you go. it’s a work day. he knows that. he pulls you onto the couch with him and you’re giggling, saying that you really need to get back to work, but his hand his gently squeezing your chest and sliding over your waist so you can spare a few minutes. you kiss like teenagers, a lot of touching but nothing too serious. patrick is a fan of the change of pace, of the anticipation, of you, so he’ll gladly kiss you until your lips are pink and puffy with no sexual gratification. it’s nice to be able to sleep over without that obligation.

- when you’re across from him at dinner, you ask him what you are. and his brain is telling him to say something fake, protect himself, protect the player motif, but his heart is so in it. he has a big heart and a lot to give and it’s been misplaced far too fucking often. so his brain decides to tell him to go with his heart and he asks if you want to call yourself his girlfriend. he hasn’t had a girlfriend since Tashi. and that was fucking ages ago. you are the first person able to crack him enough into something that could be serious. at first he thinks maybe you’re not into it, but you grin. “so that makes you my boyfriend…”

“yeah,” he nods, mouth pinched a little to avoid the pending grin. “that work for you?”

“i’ll have to check with my other two boyfriends, but i think it’ll be fine.”

- he chases you up the stairs to your apartment and kisses you against the door even with the threat of falling all the way back down all those steps. you manage to get the door open and you pull him inside before pulling away from the kiss and kicking off your shoes as you run from him. he chases you just a little, enough, you’re giggling as you throw your cardigan on the couch. patrick is opposite of you with the couch between so it could go either way so he jumps the couch, catching you and kissing you, picking you up, the billowy skirt you’re in sliding up your legs as they wrap around him. you kiss him, captured in his arms and he presses you to another wall, then another, and then he’s crawling over you in your bed. he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone. he’s never had the intention to touch someone with such gentle hands. its always been rough, always lust-laced. not here, not how.

- and it isn’t even sex. it’s just touching, heavy petting. it’s your denial of it that makes him want you so much more as your hand moves up and down his length. he’s big, you note that, it kind of scares you a little in the ‘how is that supposed to fit’ kind of way, but it’s good. you’re good with your hands, it’s probably from all the dough-kneading you’ve had to do in your lifetime. he’s weak for you and you only. you really were taking this slowly and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. his hands slide over the skin of your waist, over your ass, coming back to your front, pushing aside your underwear, fingers that rub your clit and make you gasp. he’s experienced, you know that, but you kiss him and he tastes like smoke and you can forget it. besides, you know you’ve already won him over. his fingers slip inside of you and it’s dawns on him that you are probably one of the best things to happen to him in a while. aside from sex, the lack thereof is something so enticing, so fucking intoxicating, and the way you moan his name without him having to truly be inside of you, it’s so rewarding. he thinks he might just stay, as if he hasn’t already agreed to it.

- dating you comes with gaining a few pounds, that’s a no-brainer. you feed him well. how can he say no when everything you cook is so fucking good and there’s never a lack of dessert around? with tennis still in the picture he’s turning most of it into muscle, but that doesn’t stop him from getting just a little bit softer. he hasn’t slept in his car in three days, he’s in your bed and you’re laying on his chest, your hands tracing gently patterns on the skin of his stomach, tracing the hair down his abdomen to the v of his crotch and back up again. he’s not even thinking he’s glad to not be sleeping in his car, he’s contented with the fact you’re laying on him the way you are. and he’s only glad to not be in his car because you wouldn’t be there.

- “we never go to your place,” you say to him, “hiding bodies there or something?”

patrick scratches the back of his neck, scrunching up his nose just a little. “uh… something like that. it’s not very finished.”

“when have i ever minded a mess?”

“mmm, never, but i don’t think you’d like it.”

you shook your head, “what if i kissed you? then would you let me come over?”

“you kiss me all the time, what currency is that passive?”

you roll your eyes, “oral.”

“also not hard to come by.”

“prove it.” he’s glad you give him something to do to drop the topic of his living situation.

- he’s coming to understand what a roux is and how to actually make food now that there’s so many ingredients around. you’re teaching him and he’s begging you to come to the court and try tennis, but you tell him you that these things are not comparable. he picks you up and puts you on the counter as always and kisses you into it. maybe his hand slides up your thigh under your skirt. “patrick. we have food in the oven that is almost done, focus.”

he kisses your neck. “will it burn?”

“if you don’t stop, it will.” you smile against his kisses, his hand creeping up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs. “patrick.” your tone is warning but you don’t mean it.

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your lips, his tongue delving between yours. his other hand is on your lower back, bringing you closer to the counter’s edge. he stops in his tracks.

“you’re not wearing anything under this?”

you smile against his lips, “mmm… nope.” and the kissing is only intensified. he pulls you closer and he tilts you back a little so his fingers can push inside of you. they curl perfectly, without sex he’s learned how to navigate you so well. you’re moaning and he’s taking it in like nothing he’s ever had before. this is domestic, this is perfect. he’s so into it, hard in his jeans. he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted and you tease him with open legs and no underwear but you won’t let him fuck you.

- you really do want him to. so badly. god it’s almost a force of its own how badly you need him to. but the excuse this time is that the food is genuinely going to burn which is to your advantage because he picks up the pace at which his fingers are moving so that he can finish what he started before quickly and thoroughly washing his hands and taking the food out of the oven, you just breathe hard. he fixes your skirt so it once again drapes over your legs with a quick smile your way. god, he’s perfect.

- he’s enjoying himself in a way he didn’t know was possible. it brings him a strange joy when you introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend and they’re all impressed when they find out he’s a professional tennis player. “can’t be good for your sport to be fed eclairs all the time,” one of your guy friends joked with him. “you look good though, man. and she looks really happy.”

- it’s not like you wanted the sex to be special. no, you’re not a virgin. it’s not going to be magic. things already do feel pretty good if you’re honest but it’s getting to the point where you’re getting a little too horny to exist properly around each other. you’re adults, you’ve got all the time in the world to be romantic but as of lately it’s been feeling like there’s some magnetic, otherworldly force. patrick himself is slightly denying himself the pleasure because it feels so good to exist in that state of anticipation. you on the other hand, you’ve just been living to tease. you’re not easy, you don’t want to be easy, if you’re easy you turn into every other woman. you take pleasure in making him wait, pulling him close, touching him in ways that he won’t soon forget.

- he watches you at work. comes home from the court, showers and comes back downstairs and you’re busy in the kitchen. your employees have learned to work around you when you stop to kiss him. it’s been a few months of this. he loves how passionate you are about your work and if he’s lucky you’ll walk by his table, bring him coffee or a treat and sometimes you’ll make him try a few things, he never has the option to put it in his mouth himself. you do that little thing he loves, wiping his lip with your finger and taking whatever excess and putting it in your own mouth.

- he helps you close. he turns off all the ovens and he helps to wipe down and sweep. you’re in the kitchen with him alone now and you kiss him every single time he passes you. strong kisses, ones that mean something. paired with maybe a peck or two. every kiss longer than the next. his hands always on your waist, always holding you close against him. he presses you against the wall, you giggle as you shut the blinds with your free hand. “mmm- patrick.”

“yeah?”

“you want to go upstairs?”

“i’m busy,” he replies, kissing your neck. you sigh against him happily.

“patrick.”

“uh-huh?”

“upstairs,” you urge him, eyes meeting his between kisses. “i spend all day down here, upstairs…”

he’s clueless, used to what he’s used to, but he’ll do what you ask, following as you hold his hands up the stairs. “am i cooking tonight or do you still feel like it? i feel like i’ve really got that-“

you kiss him the moment you’re upstairs. it’s been a long day. he takes it happily, but it’s something more. the kisses connect and disconnect with more passion than to let this kiss have no intention. you’re grinning against his lips and he is once again backing you against the wall. his hand cradles behind your head and his tongue is in your mouth. he’s got his other hand on the back of your hip, sliding down over your ass. you hum into it, the breaths between short and pretty, your smiles mutual.

your hand slips up his chest, grabbing the collar of his sweater and using it to kiss him harder. your other hand creeps up the back of his neck. and then you start to pull his sweater up over his head.

- the difference isn’t much. but he gladly takes off his sweater and his shirt. it’s no different. except you push him backward, grinning. he takes it with a smile, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. you push him back to your bed where he falls onto it and you begin to crawl over him. his hands on your waist as he adjusts where he’s sitting, your hand slipping down into his pants. no belt today, you’re lucky. he groans a little breathily as your hand does what it does best. he’s a fan of skirts, hiking it up, you do the very opposite and pull it down, off, thrown somewhere into some void. he sits up, meeting you, cupping your face.

your hand slips back out and you grind against him instead, his kisses varying in length just to be able to breathe out the way he needs. you breathe in his air, humming as you kiss him. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

“take your pants off?”

he chuckles between kisses and lifts you gently just so he can undo his zipper and pull them off. you grin, sitting back against him, grinding just a little. the new friction is good, elicits a larger groan from him. “what do you want from me?” he mumbles.

“do i have to want something?”

“have to want something. whatever it is, it’s yours. i already offered to cook.”

you laugh, kissing him still, “patrick, love.”

“yeah?” you smirk, eyelashes fluttering. his hand slides up your bare hip. “oh, fuck.”

“yeah, about that,” you grin, kissing him again. he groans, his head tilting back as you kiss him harder. he takes it all. it’s you. it’s everything he wants.

- his hands shimmy your underwear down your legs and his fingers meet your clit in seconds. he’s into it, his fingers slip inside you. “you’re so wet,” he mumbles.

“need you.” you mumble back. “please.”

your please is something he’s never gotten before. it’s all real and happening and he’s more than content with the ask. his boxers are off and he flips you onto your back. he’s not going to make you do the work the first time you have sex. he’s waited months to fuck you, he’s doing it himself and he’s doing it right. he knows you keep condoms in your top drawer, he reaches over, grabs one, and rips it open with his teeth. the wrapper flits to the floor.

- he’s big. you know this very well. you’ve thought about it, dreamt about it, fantasized with your hand between your thighs about it, but it’s real and it’s a threat. the thing is he’s not just long. around 7 inches maybe high 6 inches but he’s also thick in girth. you’re kissing and it’s rough but he takes the time to mumble, “is this okay?” he asks like you’re a virgin as his tip bumps your entrance- he pretends it’s not the hottest thing. he pretends you don’t make him weak. you tell him yes and you hold him a little extra close as he starts to push into you. it hurts- you haven’t had anyone inside of you like this in two years maybe. for him it’s been a little less, but it’s felt like forever. he’s never been discontented with your sexual activities but this just beats everything. you’re tight and respectfully, he goes slowly, both of you moaning and grasping for some semblance of reality. the wait is already deemed worth it, him burying his cock in you as far as it’ll go.

- he moves in and out slowly, but you’re not new to this. he soothes you, rubbing up your hip, your upper thigh, “taking it so well. so good. it’s okay?”

“mhm-“ you sigh, “fuck, oh my god.”

it’s more than satisfying. it’s more than he even thought it could be. “you feel so good, so perfect-.” his words make you moan and he takes it happily. he’s increasing his pace, getting harsher with his thrusts and you’re taking it all perfectly. it hurts but masking that under the pleasure of being stretched and filled so completely. “god, you’re-“ he groans into your mouth. so many months without, he could have lasted so much longer if it was in regular practice but you’re tight and you’re moaning in his ear, his name is falling off your lips. “gorgeous…”

“uh-huh,” you smile, kissing him as he fucks you into the mattress. that innocent smile on you that is so knowing, so fucking hot. it’s taking patrick all he can not to finish right then. sex with you is everything. everything. all-consuming, entirely satisfying

- forty minutes of completely sweaty, messy, perfect sex, he’s pulling out, and you’re breathing hard. “oh my god…” you say, rolling back onto your back. “i’ve been going without that?”

patrick smirks at the ceiling before rolling over, looking at you. he met you with the intention of sex with you but looking at you he couldn’t imagine that ever being true. there was no way it would have ever been as good as it just was if he’d pulled his moves all that time ago. it felt like forever. “going without?”

“i liked the tease,” you nod back, smiling just a little. “i’m hungry, are you hungry? i’ll make dinner in a few.”

he smiles at your need to feed him. “just a little.” and he begins to kiss down your bare chest, your stomach, between your thighs. “you’re so pretty, you know that?” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “prettiest.”

“i might…”

“so so pretty,” he kisses your opposite thigh. the shivers you had just felt return with a hot flush of goosebumps throughout your entire body. and his tongue works that same magic you know it to.

- you of course, make too much food after that. glowing with the high of sex and three great orgasms. patrick sits a little bit quiet. if he’d done this and been out the door he wouldn’t be here. he wouldn’t be sitting at the table, listening to you weigh up and down about making brownies or cake. you’re so excited. you’re so happy. and he’s doing something good for once. he’s making someone happy and there’s no catch. he’s yours. if he’d fucked you and walked out, shoes in hand, he would have missed out on something so perfect. it’s something to think about .

- when you notice how quiet he is, you come and sit on his lap in the chair. “are you okay?” you ask, just a little concerned. after all, he is patrick and you did have a bit of worry that he’d finally have what he wants and go. that was irrational, you convinced yourself. but he’s so quiet. “dinner is almost done.”

“i’m okay,” he responds, hands slinking around your waist. “more than. i’m just… i’m really happy. i hope you are too.”

“i am really happy- what are you thinking?” you smile, kissing him on the cheek.

“thinking that-“ he turns your head toward his and kisses you, “-i should tell you that i’m happy.”

“just that?”

“just that.” and he’s more than contented with that and you. he wouldn’t have ever said so. he never pictured the sentence. ever.

- what’s another five pounds for the woman you’re probably in love with anyway? crisis, patrick zweig head over heels. crisis. it’s new. tashi was never love, tashi was lust and the idea of perfect. you. you are pretty. and you’re kind. and you’re feeding him a cookie with other cookies baked into it and asking if it’s better than the cinnamon one. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you.

- he moves in. you’re glad to have him, especially after he confesses about his car. there’s a small argument but it’s just because this whole time you were banishing him to sleeping in his car!!! how could he let you do that to him, poor baby. he’s not a poor baby, he’s a grown man, but he enjoys being kissed all over his face. you smell like chocolate and vanilla from the cakes of the day.

- he fucks you on the floor of your bakery, shutters closed, open sign turned off, the place dark, he’s fucking you on the floor. “god, you feel so good.” he groans. “so perfect.”

you hum in agreement, “fuck, patrick, god-“ and to think just ten minutes ago, you were making him try cake fillings for a wedding cake. you tasted like strawberry filling and he tasted like lemon and he could fuck you forever, he swears. floor or not. had to be some sort of health code violation. who was he to complain?

“fuck-“ he obeys, he goes harder. you moan and it slips from your lips. “fuck, i love you.”

- you both hear it. you grab his face and you kiss him so hard that his lungs strain from the lack of oxygen. he doesn’t falter, he fucks you harder the way you wanted and even adds his hand between you to play with your clit. you finish with him and you don’t let him pull out before you kiss him again, a second hard kiss, completely pressing him against you in all forms. “i love you too. a lot actually. more than you know.” you’ve been waiting to say it. “more than most… things.”

you’re naked and he’s still inside you and it’s a little oddly timed. he cant take back what he said. nor can he deny he means it. “more than chocolate cake?”

“woahhh too far, know your limits. that’s like asking you if you love me more than a tennis ball.”

he laughs, he laughs really hard, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “i think i love you a bit more than a tennis ball, what the fuck. a tennis ball?”

“you love tennis,” you giggle, holding his face in your hands. “why not a tennis ball?”

he keeps laughing, “it’s a ball.”

“tennis ball. you love tennis. makes sense to me.”

“over chocolate cake?”

you laugh with him, covering your face. but he moves your hands and kisses you again. a long, meaningful, and always perfect.

- he loves sleeping next to you more than most things. his favourite thing is probably the way you look in the morning before coffee. he keeps the curtains open when the sun sets so he gets to watch the golden light on your face. you kiss him every chance you get, no matter what, and he’s in love with it. and you. all of you. the sex is never boring, you taste like something sweet every time. he’s getting good at baking simple things like cupcakes and cookies and he can say he makes a decent mac and cheese because of you. he gets a job thanks to you and your connections and it’s a good job. he comes home to you, wakes up to you. and all this because some bar food wasn’t up to par.

- he finally gets you on the court and you’re terrible. it’s his turn to laugh at you, the way you do when he somehow turns batter into a thick dough. somehow you manage to hit balls backward. “it’s a good thing we’re in a long-term relationship and you love me, right?”

“hmmm… maybe not so long-term,” he jokes, dropping his racket and coming to kiss you.

- the thing about patrick is that after trying this, having this, in theory, he never wanted it again. it was messy. all he knew. messy. sex was easy and simple and was messy in the best way. he thought maybe it was his lack of faith that it could ever be like this. so he never stopped being happy with you. why would he? every fight was talked out, mature, you didn’t fight back to be petty and you didn’t give him the silent treatment for revenge. you sure as hell didn’t leave him for his best friend. you were everything right. and he thought this was all bullshit- finding that person. the right person. how could he look at you, the person who changed his life around and saved him from living in his car and not think that you were one hundred percent, without a doubt, perfect for him. you were you. and you were never sure if one baked good was better than another and he knew, watching you stirring a bowl of something with a bit of flour on your upper cheek and in your hair, that this was where he was meant to be.

- he had that same thought a few years later when you told him you were pregnant.

- and then later, when you’re retired. you turn to baking scones. patrick’s rackets on the wall, trophies, and you, in the kitchen, asking him if he likes the blueberry with cream scone better than the raspberry earl grey scone. he’s still got his sweet tooth.

taglist: @lalalandofive @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @reallycreativeusername @swetearss @romnticist @colorful-teaparty @senseofnewness

[yandere-daydreams]

Okok gonna face my fears and send this off anon . . . ♡ I woke up at 6am and have been plagued by the concept of yan!satosugu with idol darling like all morning

Walk with me here okokokokok. So like satoru obviously has like sooo much money. What if just to get a break from focusing on sorcery all the time he became a sponsor or even producer for a very cute girlypop idol group,,, (and yes I do think he would be kinda weird/creepy to idol darling, especially with how he views himself as basically untouchable (I mean he has enough money to pay the right people off) sooo). 

That’s where suguru comes in (I see this as a mostly canon-compliant geto never defected au). Obviously he would want to keep up with what his best friend is up to, so he’s like a day one supporter of said idol group. With how the japanese idol industry seems to have a focus on the youth and purity of female idols, I could definitely see suguru wanting to “protect his oshi’s innocence” . . .

So if (let’s be honest, WHEN) satosugu bring idol darling home, I could totally see suguru just absolutely babying the poor girl to kind of a weird infantilizing degree?? If that makes sense?? Like very much trying to condition darling into relying on them for everything

I would assume that satoru would be a lot more upfront about how much of a gross perv he is (especially since he probably mistreated the group members to some extent)

I think they would expect total compliance from darling, but if darling ever acts up I can’t help but think one of their go-to punishments would be forcing her to perform the groups choreographies with some sort of “handicap” ie vibrator taped to her pussy at the full speed (and yes they would probably reprimand if she messes up - gotta make sure their number one idol isn’t missing practice!!

Speaking of missing practice/group activities, I fully believe it is within satoru’s capabilities to spread the narrative that darling just kinda . . . suddenly “graduated” from the group and left without a trace, so therefore the other members shouldn’t worry about her and should instead just resume group activities!! (I could also see satosugu using this as some kind of mental leverage over idol darling - like “hey, your group is actually way more popular now that you’ve left”)

Sorry gang I fear I let the thoughts simmer for too long . . .

please let me know your thoughts :3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, idol exploitation, long-term stalking, and obsessive behavior.

WAIT may i suggest: suguru and satoru as parasocial ultra-fans of the same idol as kind of an escapism thing from the stress of being some of the world's most powerful sorcerers, with satoru having the fortune to completely devote himself to making him and suguru your #1 fans. you start to recognize them around the fifth time they miraculously appear at the very front of the line for your post-concert meet-and-greet, but since they're a little bit older and they always have a small gaggle of shy, but polite preteens with them, you just assume they're a pair of wealthy fathers eager to fuel their kids' shared fixation. sure, it's a little strange that the white-haired man always seems more excited to shake your hand than his standoffish son, and it does raise a few concerns when the twin girls spend the majority of their time with you gushing about their black-haired father, but you're a very popular idol with a very busy schedule. you don't have a lot of time to think about one strange family out of the hundred or so you'll meet, that night.

you don't have a lot of time to think about them until your group starts getting extravagant, expensive gifts and donations - always paired with the a gushing fan letter and always sent from one of two increasingly familiar names. since you always seem to be the primary focus, you're the one pressured by your producers to film 'thank you' videos that are just a little too intimidate, to post the type of pictures your generous sponsors compliment the most heavily more often than you may like to. it gets to the point where you're being asked how you'd feel about ""private shows"" to ""ensure the support of a select demographic"", but you adamantly refuse every time it's brought up. it's enough to have to deal with satoru's touchiness at your handshake events, suguru's prying gaze from his permanent seat in the front row of your group's concerts. you don't need to be trapped in the same room as them, alone and all-but paid to cooperate, to know that you want as little to do with them as possible.

that is, until your producer slips you a drink that's just a little too bitter during rehearsal and you wake up in a large room decorated entirely with your merch and memorabilia, to satoru's head between your thighs and suguru behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder as he tells you about how excited they are to finally meet their favorite idol in person, how patiently they've been waiting for you to finally retire and take on a more domestic lifestyle. they'll be delighted to find out that, because of how long you've been in the industry and how protective your fans can be, you're still very much a virgin, and you very much need your two biggest fans to show you what you've been missing <3 if you're lucky, they'll even add pictures of your first climax to the shrine they've been building since they day they first discovered you, the shrine they're going to be keeping you inside of from now on. you might be crying, sure, begging to be let go, but that's alright.

in time, you'll realize how lucky you are to have such devoted fans.

[warping-realities]

Commitment - Final

After eating a wonderful meal prepared by the house's cook and playing some online games, Pete found himself on the edge of the mansion's luxurious pool, dozing while sunbathing, enjoying the best that life had to offer. Until he was suddenly woken up when someone knocked him into the pool.

"Motherfucker!" He said after recovering and getting up irritated in the pool. And be greeted by Dan's smiling face.

"You piece of shit, you almost scared me to death. I’ll break you all apart!"

"You can try bro, but you need to be a lot bigger if you want to hit me."

"Big enough, bro!" He responded showing his big sculpted body.

"You can't resist a little show, can you? That way you'll make the girls go crazy!" Dan replied in turn, with a malicious expression on his face.

Girls? What girls?"

"Hi Pete!" Said a beautiful young woman while another as beautiful as her giggled next to her.

"Their shift at the gym is over so I invited them to come along. Don't worry about Julia, they'll behave, right girls?"

"Yes Dan, we won't do anything Pete doesn't want." Emily replied with a smile.

"You pay me for this you Asshole" Pete whispered to his friend.

"Hey, aren't you the faithful guy? Just stay that way, brother." Dan replied, his mischievous smile widening.

Somehow Pete managed to hold on, despite the advances from the women. When the situation became too difficult to control, he left the pool and went to Think of a way to send them away before Julia arrived. While he was swinging his long, thick cock, he was surprised by Emily who pushed him, still naked, against the wall and gave him a professional-level blowjob. So professional that he found himself unable to protest and after all it was just a blowjob, it's not like it was a terrible betrayal.

He was already looking for justifications for the fact that that blowjob had ended with him fucking the woman right there in the bathroom, when he heard his cell phone vibrate and received a message on his cell phone from Julia saying that she was already at the front gate of

the house. He quickly freed himself from Emily and instructed Dan to hide with the two women in one of the guest rooms. While he himself ran to his suite to take a quick shower and wash the smell of sex off his body.

When Julia arrived at his room she found him naked on the bed waiting for her smiling at her.

"Hey babe, how about that blowjob?" He asked with a smile, as if nothing had happened.

Pete woke up the next day after a strange dream in which he was a wimp living with the slut he had slept with the night before, without the courage to admit that he was being exploited by the gold digger. As if it were possible. Yet before opening his eyes he felt his bulging muscles and his face feeling that everything was the way it should be. It was terribly early by his standards. But it was his own fault for havingaccepted that partnership with Dan and now having to work helping to organize the new Dan's Gym units around the city. Just having to think that they would still have to find a new name for the franchise almost made him want to not get out of bed. But he still forced himself to get up.

As he passed the living room on the way to the kitchen he He received a message from the social manager of the gym chain with the next promotional video for Instagram. Dominating the screen were him and Dan, looking more like two real brothers than best friends, laughing and flexing their muscles after an intense workout that had pushed them to the limit.

A momentary thought of doubt crossed Peter's mind, how was it possible for two people to exist as physically similar as they were and with the same habits, tastes and thoughts? But soon this fleeting doubt dissipated, never to return, as he was interrupted by the voice Pete had expected to hear, making him look up.

"I personally thought the final result of the project is excellent."

"I agree. And I see you're quite comfortable as a guest." He replied with an mocking expression.

"Brother, I've been going to this house for years, your parents consider me a second son, I'm much more than a guest."

A smiling Dan replied, wearing only underwear spread comfortably on the couch.

"What's more than I can say about that woman you brought home last night, really scandalous in bed. Who was the diva?"

"You don't know, a girl I picked up at college, we met again recently and I decided to give her a revival, but it turns out she expected a lot more from me than I had to offer. She wasn't very happy when I told her I had called a car for take her home."

"You know, for someone so rich, you lacks class, bro!"

"Look who's talking, I heard very well what you did to that girls in the guest room."

"But I'm not the senator's son."

"It was my fault. I should have ignored her advances and stuck to my policy of no repeat women. I don't want any commitment."

"Good thing this doesn't extend to work."

"Dan, if there's a relationship that I'm fully committed to, it's ours, both at work and in friendship."

"I know that brother, and I'm grateful for that, my life wouldn't be the same without you!"

[masn-mount]

'the oldest book in the world'

note: bestfriend!jude!

this is my very first time writing a Jude fic! I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading and please let me know what you think. xx

warnings: not any really, just swearing,

words: 5,2k (got carried away like always)

"You're going to fall over," your voice is soft, a total contrast to the look you shoot Jude's way when you see him lean forward at the edge of the boat you've rented for the afternoon.

"I'm the king of the world!" You roll your eyes at his outburst even if you can't help the smile that pulls at the corner of your lips. He looks back at you, his unbottoned white shirt flowing behind him as he stands with his arms wide open by his sides.

"I'm being serious Jude, get down here." The trip to Greece after the season had finished was mentioned months ago and you gladly agreed to it when Jude asked you if you'd want to join. You had been looking forward to it, it was nice seeing your friends and spending some time with them but more than anything you had looked forward to a week with Jude.

The two of you have been friends since you were kids and for years you brushed off your crush on him. You were only eleven the first time you had looked at him and thought he was cute but that was it so surely your little crush on your bestfriend would go away with time.

To you Jude was the boy you would spend hours with playing football in your backyard until you both were too tired to stand. When girls at school started taking interest in boys he was the one all the girls asked you about, "you're his bestfriend, you have to know who he likes," is what they’d tell you but you didn’t know or want to know so instead you focused on summer break and how for four years the two of you would spend your days on your bikes, exploiting every possible road until you found a new ice cream van for the day.

He has always been that boy to you and when years passed and you still looked at him the same way as you did when you were eleven you thought of him as the boy who could be something so much more if things weren’t so complicated.

You were thinking back to the day Jude told you he was moving to a completely different country. Dortmund wanted him and as excited as he has been about the move he was terrified to tell you but when he shared the news and the biggest smile he had ever seen broke out on your face he knew he had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

Jude had pulled you into his lap and he just sat back and listened as you spoke about how proud of him you were and how you couldn’t wait for your first trip to Dortmund meanwhile all he could think about was how badly he had wanted to kiss you.

The next morning you woke up early.

You decided to stay back at the villa the previous night, you told your friends it was because you weren’t feeling well but in reality it was because after your little trip down memory lane you were finding it difficult to focus on anything or anyone other than Jude.

A night in to clear your head was what you needed.

It didn’t work but it was worth a try. ed.

You were laying out by the pool, endlessly scrolling through all your different social media apps while you waited for your friends to wake up.

Work and school had been stressful so you wanted to take advantage of every moment you had away from it. You knew Jude felt it too and even if he rarely ever complained about his busy schedule you had noticed a change in him since your arrival to Greece. He felt more relaxed, shoulders not as tense and bags under his eyes not visible. You knew he had a lot on his mind with the constant speculations about his future and where he would play next so you never asked him about it unless he was the one to bring it up.

You had just put your phone down next to you when your silence was disturbed by someone jumping in the pool. Your eyes flew open behind your sunglasses when your skin was met by the cold water. “Morning, angel.”

“Morning, twat.” You muttered, eyes watching Jude as he swam towards the edge of the pool with his eyes closed and smile on his face. Your eyes stayed on him as he splashed water in your direction.

“That was for not being very nice,” you just shook your head at him before laying back in your previous position, trying to ignore how you could feel his eyes lingering on your body. “Lost my sunglasses last night.”

“That's too bad," you couldn't even fake annoyance towards him as he splashed more water in your direction before he effortlessly got out of the pool. You weren't going to pretend like you weren't shamelessly checking him out but it was only fair since he had done the same. “What are you doing?" You laughed when his hand reached for your glasses.

"I told you, I lost mine."

"How is that my problem?" He just laughed before telling you that technically it was your fault because if you had been at the club with him he was sure he wouldn’t have lost them.

“Who even brings sunglasses to the club?” You asked to which he just shrugged before telling you to scoot over which you did, making room for him to lay down next to you. You changed position after a few minutes, laying down on your front as Jude reached for the sunscreen laying above your head under your shorts. You were about to ask him if he wanted you to help him put some on when the lotion hit your back. "I already put some on."

"Y'looking a little red and I know you can't reach by yourself." His hand felt soft on your skin as he slowly rubbed the sunscreen up and down your back. You had to bite your lip from making any kind of noise when he moved back down your back after rubbing some on your shoulders, neck and arms. His hands were moving dangerously low, fingertips reaching just under your bikini bottoms. “Y’want me to do your legs?” You only nod, not trusting your voice in that moment.

It should be innocent but nothing with Jude was ever innocent which you got confirmed when he rubbed up your thighs until his fingers stopped just under your ass. Your body was feeling like it was on fire and you knew he could sense your body tensing at his touch by the chuckle that left his mouth. “My head is telling me to throw you back in that pool since you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

"Hey, m'just helping out," he held his hands up in fake surrender before leaning forward and kissing the back of your shoulder. "All done," you watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his lips before he gently tapped the back of your thigh. "Do me now?"

The dynamic between you two had been like this for years, you enjoyed the flirtatious aspect of your relationship because you didn’t overthink it. You knew Jude was that way with other people too but then there were those nights where he would keep his arm over your legs or around your shoulders when you’d sit next to him and the longer the night got the closer he’d pull you in until you were almost sharing a chair. All of it had your heart raising, especially when he would be so close that you could feel his lips against your ear just so he could tell you that you looked unreal, how the dress you were wearing fit you perfectly and how you were the prettiest girl in the room.

It has been just that, sweet words and innocent touches until it turned into nights spent together. It was convenient really, just two friends keeping each other warm during the nights but both of you knew it was much more than that.

You wanted to spend your nights together and neither of you could stand the idea of the other spending it with anyone else.

When you that night in Greece ended up in his bed yet again you wanted to curse yourself out because you’d promised yourself that last time was the last. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, your back flush to his chest and all you could feel were his soft breaths against the back of your next. The sun wasn’t up yet which confirmed that you hadn’t been asleep for long. You closed your eyes and tried going back to sleep but Jude’s fingers aimlessly drawing different shapes across your lower stomach made it impossible.

"Go back to sleep." His rough voice so early morning almost startled you a little.

"I can’t."

"Stop overthinking and you will,” you didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling.

"What are we doing, Jude?"

"Sleeping."

"Are we being stupid?"

"No."

"I think we are."

"Always so fucking stubborn," a silence follows his words before he speaks again, "who even cares anyway?" You weren’t sure what he meant, if he was talking about your friends because you knew they didn’t care but you did so to think he was in the same boat as your friends hurt you more than you’d like to admit.

“I do,” you whisper and that was your way of telling him that whatever this was, it was fucking with your head but no response came as Jude’s scores filled the room.

You both wake up a few hours later and act like your conversation never happened and when your friends see you leave his room, in nothing but his shirt from the night before they all look away.

You stayed away from Jude that day, spending most of it by the pool with your girlfriends and when he’d be at the pool you would walk to the bar and when he’d call your name out you’d pretend like you didn’t hear.

The evening rolled around, everyone were chatting away, excited, happy and drunk and you were too focused on the conversation you were having with a girlfriend to notice Jude making his way over to you. He stopped next to you, his hand coming to rest on your hip, “you don’t ignoring me for whatever reason yet?”

You weren’t so your eyes remained locked with your friend who was finding the entire situation too amusing. “So fucking stubborn, like always,” is what Jude said before walking away.

You didn’t know what time it was when you decided to be the one to call it a night but your eyes were heavy and you were cold so all you wanted was to get back to the villa. You stepped out before everyone else, followed closely by Jude who pulled you in for a hug. “You’re shivering, I keep telling you to bring a jacket but you never listen, so you?” You feel done ignoring him for the night so you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him a little before looking up at him with a pout on your face.

"It's your job to bring the jacket," he laughs before apologizing for forgetting to bring one and he didn’t want to tell you that it had been because you hadn’t picked one out for him that night.

"I haven't told you yet but thank you for coming. I love having you around, y'know?"

"Of course, wouldn't miss it," he kissed your head before moving his lips down to your cheek. You expect him to move back but instead you feel him press more kisses to the apples of your cheeks.

"I hated not talking to you all day," he whispered, his kisses were light but made your heart speed up and your cheeks heat up. A final kiss was pressed to the corner of your lips before he untangled himself from you when he heard a friend of his call out for him.

You tried to control the flush growing on your neck and face but on the entire walk back to the villa you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on your skin because that entire moment had felt so intimate. Almost too intimate.

It was cliché, the oldest book in the world - girl falls in love with bestfriend.

Jude was someone you considered near perfect. He had the prettiest smile you had ever seen and the biggest heart you had ever known. He was driven, talented, funny and he cared about you more than most people did so of course you couldn’t be just friends with someone who made your heart beat extra hard each time you just heard them laugh.

You hadn’t just caught feelings, you had fallen completely head over heels with someone who had never shown that they feel even remotely the same.

The oldest book in the world sucked and right now you were getting past the chapter where you laid in bed crying as your friend, Lea rubbed your back, whispering that everything was going to be okay because boys were boys and sometimes they're too stupid to see what they have right infront of them.

You woke up with swollen eyes and the shower you took didn’t help you feel better.

You didn’t only make breakfast awkward for yourself but for everyone else too when you leaned away from Jude and dodged the kiss he had leaned in to give you. His friends all laughed, wondering what he could have possibly done to have his girl give him that treatment but they quickly stopped when Jude frowned at them and Lea told them to shut up and eat.

Jude stayed away for the day, not because he wanted to but he knew something was on your mind and that you didn’t want to talk to him about it. Lea had confirmed it to him later that day, letting him know that you just needed some space but that you were fine.

You weren’t fine and he knew that, your eyes didn’t have that glint to them that he adored and your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

He did well, stayed away for the day, got ready by himself in his own room and when he saw you walk out of your room he almost felt like you were trying to torture him. You were wearing a blue mini dress that was complimenting your skin perfectly. Your hair was curled to what he thought was perfection and he simply couldn’t take his eyes away from you. “You’re catching flies, mate,” was what his friend told him before he shoved him away, eyes back on you to see you standing before him. “You look really nice,” he never went a day without telling you that so the words only came natural to him.

You have him a soft smile, “thank you, so do you.” Your conversation didn’t drag longer.

You were having a good time. You were smiling, laughing and dancing like nobody was watching. You talked to the boys who approached you but couldn’t even pretend that you were interested for longer than a minute because none of them were Jude. Lea told you that you needed to kiss someone, to maybe bring someone back to the villa because the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else but you couldn’t do that. You had regretted not taking Lea’s advice because when the boys got back home, an hour after you had already left they were accompanied by four girls you had never seen before.

You pretended like it wasn’t bothering you, striking conversation with all of them and playing nice but when Jude started getting a little too close to one of them your face instantly fell. He was making her laugh and when he leaned in a little too close to whisper something in her ear you felt tears cloud your eyes so you got up and out of there before causing a scene.

You were definitely blaming the alcohol.

You couldn’t imagine how you looked, tears streaking down your face, makeup looking a mess by now along with your hair you had just tossed up in a messy bum. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were still wearing your uncomfortably tight dress you would have jumped into the pool instead of sitting at the edge of it.

"I won't save you if you jump in," you jumped slightly, "sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"I can swim,” you don't look at him when he sits down next to you.

"Why are you crying?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don-, don't sit here!"

"Oh? I don't see any sign claiming this is your spot," for the dramatic Jude looks around himself before his eyes settle on you, fighting the urge to reach up and wipe the tears that were still falling down your face, "nope, no sign."

"Okay, well...don't look at me with your stupid pretty eyes."

"You think I have pretty eyes?" When you don’t reply, Jude let out a sigh. "Babe, I hate seeing you upset."

"Don't make me upset then,” you hiccup, hands going to wipe away a fresh set of tears.

“I’m the reason you’re upset?” He am almost sounded offended, “can you tell me what I did?” You were just sitting there, not looking at him because you were sure that if you did you would completely break down. “Y/n, this is childish.”

"Don’t fucking tell me I’m childish when I’m upset!” He doesn’t say anything so you continue, “and don’t bring back a bunch of girls that we don’t even know to our villa without as much as asking us like a bunch of self centered bastards!” You look at Jude for the first time since you sat down and he looks completely taken back by your outburst. You sigh before telling him that you’re sorry.

"You're fine."

"I'm not and what I said, I don’t mean it. You're not self centered."

"But I am bastard?" You just laugh at him before shaking your head. "You can talk to me, y'kow?"

“I just-, today and yesterday has been difficult. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve missed you a lot.”

"I've been here the entire time."

"Not really, you’ve not been with me."

"I bet you haven't even noticed,” your voice is barely a whisper.

“I always notice when you’re not around. Being with the lads is nice but I was looking forward to spending majority of my time here with you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that it could make the tears stop falling because you weren’t even sure why you were still crying.

“You looked pretty cozy with that girl.” It was meant to be a lighthearted comment but the confusion on Jude’s face told you he didn’t take it that way.

“Is that what this is about?”

“You think I’m crying over that?” You were but he didn’t have to know that.

"Then why did you bring it up?” You didn’t have a response because he was right, you don’t know why you had brought it up. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting strange. You’ve been avoiding me for two days. Everything was going perfectly fine with us, we were good and then suddenly you start acting distant and I don’t know what to say or do.”

"Please, can we just drop it?”

"You're confusing the fuck out of me, y/n."

"Do you not think I’m fucking confused too?”

"About what?"

"I can't do this, Jude."

“You have to be more specific.”

“This! The,” you take a deep breath knowing that once you say what you were about to say there was no turning back, “the kissing, Jude. The cuddling, the holding hands, the fucking teasing, touching and flirting! The sharing bed, I can’t do any of it.”

"That's what this is about?”

“I really wish you could stop acting like it doesn’t mean anything!”

“I’m really not following.” That was your chance to tell him that it was nothing and to just forget about it and you could just go to bed and and pretend like this conversation hadn’t happened.

Tomorrow would be a new day and you would just have to accept that he didn’t have those kind of feelings for you which was fine.

Maybe it wasn’t fine but you would have to learn to accept it but instead of dropping it you shake your head. “How are you not following? I can’t have you kiss me, Jude. I can’t have you hold me and pretend like it doesn’t mean anything because it does to me.” You take a deep breath and ask him to not interrupt you when he’s about to say something. “I can’t let you have me just to not have me, it’s not fair anymore.” You wanted to scream at yourself to be quite because you had said enough but you couldn’t stop yourself. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been since we were like fourteen. I know you’re my bestfriend and I know that’s all you see me as, which is fine,” you laugh a little, “I think it’s fine. It will be fine but I just, you’re the first person I want to call when I get good news. When I see a stupid or funny video on Tiktok you’re the first person I want to send it to. You make me so happy and I feel so lucky to have you in my life but I can’t continue acting like these feelings aren’t just eating me up.” You feel like you might fall apart when Jude wipes the single tear that has fallen from your eye. “You’re my favorite person.”

You felt like your heart was going to beat out chest.

Jude’s eyes burning into you wasn’t helping but you sit there and look back at him as you wait and hope that he can say anything to help you ease your heart but he doesn’t so you speak again. “I’m sorry.”

He inhales sharply, head leaning back as he lets out a low laugh. “Wow,” that wasn’t exactly the first thing you had hoped he would say. “You’re in love with me?”

"Don't make me say it again.”

"Why now? if you've felt like this for so long, why not tell me before?"

"I don't know, Jude."

"You've felt like this the whole time?" You almost feel like he was making fun of you, like he was dragging it out until you’d just run away and refuse to ever see him again.

"Yeah, the whole time."

"Well, fuck," you clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, feeling nothing but embarrasment by his reaction, even if it was completely valid. "I don't even know what to say. I wasn't expecting this."

"Yeah, me either." You say, barely a whisper and you feel him more so close. Your eyes are locked and you feel like you’re barely breathing when his thumb caresses your cheekbone before wiping away another tear and you just shake your head before closing your eyes. Jude leans his forehead against yours and all you can feel is his hot breath on your lips.

You know he was trying to think of something to say, anything to make you feel better. “You don’t have to say something because it’s what I want to hear, Jude.” His brows furrow before he nods, whispering that he knows. “I’ll be fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

"I know, I know." He kisses you on the cheek, does what you had just asked him not to do and you want to cry because you can't even find strenght to push him away. "It's just a lot, I don't know what I'm thinking or feeling." You just nod, feeling guilty that you had dropped something like this on him out of nowhere. "I feel so much for you, you have to know that.”

“I do,” he acknowledges your words with a nod before he lets go of you and lays down on the grass. You still sit there, unsure of what to do.

You hear glass shattering before Jude’s name is being shouted and you just smile at him before nodding towards your friends. Telling him to just go without having to use your voice because you’re not sure how much more talking you can do for the night.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing it before he stands up, helping you up too in the process.

"I'm just going to see what they want, alright?" You repeatedly nod your head, wanting to tell him to just hurry up so you can disappear to your room and hope the ground swallows you up.

"Yeah, that's fine. Go." You say, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

"Okay." He nods before walking backwards towards where your friends are, eyes not leaving yours for a moment before he turns around and jogs the short distance there. You walk the same way, catching Lea's eyes and you just shake your head at her before hurrying the other way and once your head hits your pillow and silence surrounds you all you can think is holy shit.

The next morning you feel like hell.

You skip breakfast and don't leave your bed until the afternoon, nobody comes looking for you, everyone well aware of the conversation you and Jude most likely had.

You took a quick shower before getting ready for the last day in Greece. You were glad it was coming to an end because you knew you wouldn't see Jude for a few weeks, maybe even months and that would help you forget everything that had happened.

Once you got ready you made it out with the group to some day club. Shots were being sent around and thrown back everywhere you looked and you were doing your best at pretending you weren’t feeling miserable.

When you look at Jude and see that he is completely fine you realize that the hardest part hadn’t been pouring your heart out to him but it would be seeing him carry on like nothing had happened and even if it was selfish it’s how you felt.

You get back to the villa before everyone else, your excuse was that you still had a lot to pack. You were walking around your room, picking up all your heels and sandals when you hear a knock on the door. “You need help?”

“It’s fine. I just got my makeup left to sort out after.”

“Why did you leave so early? I could have helped you pack.”

"Felt done, really." You smile at him, trying to focus on the task you had at hand and not about how he was laying in your bed, shirtless and looking more handsome than ever.

“Honestly, I feel like I’ve always been pretty in tune with my feelings,” you just nod, not entirely sure what he’s trying to say, “but last night, it just fucked it all up.”

“I really want us to just forget about it.”

“I let you talk last night so I’d like to talk now, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure.”

"You mean a lot to me, a lot more than most people. Genuinely fucking adore you and yesterday when I said I wasn't sure what I was feeling it was true. It was a lot at once, a million thoughts running through my mind, yeah?"

"Yeah."

“Me saying that, it wasn’t because I don’t care for you because I hope I’ve made it clear that I do but I just needed to think about how I wanted to approach all of this because once certain things are said, we can’t go back.” He gets up from the bed and sits down on the floor next to you before taking your hand in his. “I talked to mum this morning, told her what you said.”

"Jude! Why the fuck would you do that?”

"I needed to know if it was obvious and I was just being dumb or something." You shake your head at him. "Guess mum's always know, yeah?" His knuckles graze your cheek, like they had done the night before and he inhales once before his hand falls to the side of your neck so he can pull you even closer and God, you're just so close and you're glad you're sitting because you're sure your legs would have given up on you by now. He takes another deep breath and smiles softly at you before he leans forward so he can kiss your jaw and up to the corner of your lip and all you can do is whisper his name. "I don't want to have to stop kissing you." You're not sure where this is going but you can't pull away so you sit there, fingers drawing shapes on his thighs while you wait for him to continue. "I miss being with you, joking with you, making you and having you make me laugh." He smiles at you before continuing, "I miss holding you at night." Your breath hitches at his words, mind racing and heart pounding. "I think I've always had these feelings but I've been good at hiding them because I didn't want everything to change but fuck that." He leans forward and kisses the skin just under your eye. "It's natural with us so nothing will change, yeah?" You just nod. "I've never felt this way before so it's terrifying the shit out of me but I know what I'm feeling now and that’s that I’m so in love with you too.”

You're not sure what to do or say so you wrap your arms around his neck and let him pull you into his lap and when your palm rests against his chest you swear you can feel his heartbeat so clear, perfectly in sync with your own. "Just took me a little longer to realize." You laughed softly and Jude thought it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. "Wanna be mine then?"

"Was I not already?"

"Yeah, you always were which is why I still can't believe your jealousy led to all of this."

"What? Don't be ridiculous," you say, leaning away from him when he tries to attack you with kisses.

"You so were."

"I wasn't!"

"It's fine to admit now." You just shake your head. "Come here, m'silly girl." He says, smiling as his tongue pokes out to lick his lips. You lean your forehead against his and let his familiar perfume wash over you as you let out a content sigh. Jude reaches out and pushes a strand of your hair away and behind your ear, his fingers gently brushing across the apple of your cheek before his thumb runs over your bottom lip and the entire thing makes your heart flutter.

"You make me so happy." A grin breaks out across his face and he didn't want to waste any more time before he leaned forward, closing the short distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss that filled your entire body with warmth and you really could have stayed in that moment forever, especially when Jude smiled into the kiss making you giggle against him before he pulled you back in for another kiss.

Maybe the oldest book in the word wasn't that bad.

[cemeteryspider]

Dearie~ Part 2

Alastor x Singer! Reader

Summary: Alastor waits for his chance to finally be reunited with you

Trigger Warnings: Violence, blood, exploitation, manipulation, revenge, and overall dark themes

Word Count: 1224

Previous | Next

Alastor woke up on the cold concrete with crimson blood spilled around him. A note lay in front of him but he remembered the conversation quite well.

See you never, Has-Been ~Vox

Swiftly, Alastor conjured inky black tentacles that snatched up and tore apart the note. He let the torn up pieces be carried by the wind into the sky. This would not be the end of the Radio Demon and his love. Nor would this be the last Vox saw of him.

With a sinister resolve, he cloaked himself in shadows, transporting to an old friend.

~~~

As the years rolled on, you found yourself relentlessly passed around by the Vees, each day ensnaring you in a new performance or appearance dictated by their capricious desires.

Under Vox's control, you were forced to guest-star in an array of macabre shows, becoming the centerpiece of his infernal entertainment empire. Many ads starred your shining face and within a year the once all-powerful overlord was replaced by an actor who lived life through others.

For Velvette you modeled at every show and ad campaign she wanted you in. It could range from the ugliest costumes to the skimpiest lingerie Hell has ever seen. You were ripped to shreds in every fashion talk show and magazine only to be built back up to be torn back down.

For Valentino, you took care of his highest profile clients. Avoiding videos or pictures was imperative, safeguarding your image as Hell's coveted poster girl in the twisted realm of infernal celebrity. After all, you were bad but not that bad.

The relentless passage of time bore down on you, the weight of each day settling not just on your shoulders but seeping into the marrow of your bones, a haunting exhaustion. You found yourself wishing for Alastor's return, but alas the cards were not stacked in your deck, only in the Vees.

You worked tirelessly and kept up with Hell's most influential people despite being on a short leash. You talked to many people, and you knew how to get what you wanted. You spoke to talk show hosts about current events and who was most powerful and how Hell changed with each passing day. Fellow models usually gossiped about frivolous things, but sometimes they would slip up useful information like when overlords fell and who died during the extermination. Some wealthy clients talked business when you were around and you became an encyclopedia of who was connected to whom.

Not to mention that you met very important demons through your jobs and gaining allies was becoming a more useful skill with each passing day.

~~~

After dealing with his employer Alastor was finally back in the Pride Ring. New and improved some may say. Screens, like omniscient sentinels, adorned almost every conceivable surface, projecting Vox's influence across the sprawling canvas of the Pride Ring. Clearly time had been good to him.

Alastor on the other hand had used his time to plan. Time for the revenge to simmer and brew into something truly utterly bitter. Seven long years of watching his Darling be used by the demon who managed to best him, allowed him to draw up his sinister plot.

Unbeknownst to Vox, a shadow was casting itself over his dominion. Nothing seemingly stood in Alastor's way, yet the impending storm was invisible, silently gathering its strength.

A sardonic smile tugged at Alastor's lips as he wove the threads of his revenge, exploiting the very vulnerability he had once sought to assist Vox in overcoming during their fleeting acquaintance.

He stood by a screen watching Lucifer's daughter pitch her hotel. Very unsuccessfully.

Amidst the towering screens broadcasting Vox's shows, Alastor sensed the malevolent pieces of his grand design falling into place, each detail a shard in the mosaic of his revenge. Every detail and nuance aligns to bring about the demise of Vox and the liberation of his Darling.

~~~

One part of being so successful is to be able to get things quite easily. Stealing wiring from vanities and circuit boards from old televisions.

Though it was supposed to be hush hush, many of the powerful people couldn't help teasing you that her boyfriend was back in town to get his ass beat again to be saved by another girl, Charlie Morningstar.

That's when you started to assemble a makeshift radio, a desperate attempt to breach the infernal walls that separated you from Alastor.

It took many weeks of stealing small items and talking to Vox about wiring to finally complete a (Semi) working radio.

With the makeshift radio finally assembled, you anxiously tuned through every channel, the urgency in your actions mirroring the desperation to reconnect with Alastor.

~~~

Alastor, with a determined focus, waded through the channels, guided by Angel Dust's cryptic hint that someone sought to reach him. Angel wasn't sure whom, due to the fact that the information had -passed through many to get to him. The static crackle of the radio filled the air.

Nothing was working until he heard the voice of his sweet angel.

"Fools rush in to where angels fear to tread and so I come to you my love my heart above my head"

Your voice was melodic and each note held perfectly in tune. You sang with gusto and a sadness that he knew came from your heart.

"If there's a chance for us then I don't care. Fools rush in where wise men never go, but wise men never fall in love so how are they to know"

His smile became more real. Realer than it had been in all of his seven year absence. He was closer than he was to getting you back yet still through the radio your voice felt so far away.

"When we met I felt my life begin again, so open up your heart and let this fool rush in"

As the song's final notes lingered, Alastor's voice, a lifeline through the radio, faded into a slight crackle. He felt the weight of anticipation, a heartbeat frozen in the ether between separation and reunion

"Dearie, how I have missed your gorgeous voice"

A sharp, audible gasp reverberated through the airwaves, a sound resonating with the weight of revelation. He heard your heels clicking over to meet him.

"Alastor, Darling?, Is that really you"

"Yes my love and do not worry, we will be together again soon"

"Alastor, I've missed you so. I feared the cruel silence would be our only communication, that I'd be forever denied the sight of you."

"Trust me, Dearie, you will be freed soon enough. Nothing can keep us apart"

A frantic tapping could be heard from your side of the radio.

"Alastor, I need to go, I love you Darling"

"I love you too mi amor"

With a slight crackle he stopped broadcasting his voice over the radio and he heard the radio on your end being shoved under something so it could not be seen.

~~~

"Sugar, who were you talking to"

Alastor seethed at Vox's voice. He would pay in due time.

"No one, just fine-tuning my chords for tomorrow's performance."

"Good good, sweetheart, keep those chords moving"

He chuckled but not a single peep came from you. Your conversation with Alastor caused a shift in you. Maybe soon Vox would fall. Maybe there was still hope yet.

~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

The song you were singing is called "Fools Rush in Where Angels Fear to Tread" by Ricky Nelson, it is a great song and it is worth a listen. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and are enjoying this story so far.

[radfemverity]

Tucker Carlson's interview with misogynist, human trafficker and rapist Andrew Tate has been endorsed by Elon Musk, the man who brought Tate among many other reactionary and far-right commentators back to Twitter when he purchased the platform.

There is nothing spontaneous about Musk doing this, and if you're surprised then you're a fool. This has never been about upholding free speech - hence why you've never seen any of these men promote interesting left-wing thinkers.

The ‘SJW’/‘woke’/progressive Left, as unbearably annoying as so many of them are, just keep getting proven right.

They said Nick Fuentes and Kanye were Holocaust-denying anti-semites.

They said Jordan Peterson supported rapists, and didn't believe women should have legal equality.

They said Ben Shapiro and Matt Walsh would use the gender critical movement to blame gay people and women for any and all degeneracies.

They said Tucker Carlson and Elon Musk's recent ‘free speech’ moves were about repositioning themselves so that they could more effectively elevate the voices of overt extremists.

Again and again, their accusations are ageing like fine wine. The reactionary right’s mask is well and fully off.

Andrew Tate, Elon Musk, Tucker Carlson, Jordan Peterson, Ben Shapiro, Matt Walsh, Joe Rogan, Konstantin Kissin, Paul Joseph Watson, Ian Miles Cheong, Andy Ngo, Michael Malice, Elijah Schaffer, Zuby, Milo Yionnopoulous, Tommy Robinson, Nick Fuentes, Kanye West, Donald Trump… obviously some of these men could dislike each other, I can't imagine Shapiro and Fuentes at the same house party.

But their ideal societies don't look too different. None of these mens’ do. Because any racial, religious or ethnic prejudices they have against each other will come second to their common-ground.

The organised reaction against this brand of progressivism that has rapidly come to monopolise every sector of public life in the last 10 years, is well and truly underway. Musk, Carlson and Tate have given us the sign. And while I pretty heavily dislike the current ‘woke’ progressive ideology (and have a lot of questions about its top-down cultural spread), I'm scared of these guys way more. And if you're anything but a straight man who doesn’t care about any demographic besides straight men, you should be too.

The reason I say ‘straight men’ and not ‘straight white men’ is because, come on, the reactionary right is more racially diverse than most left-wing groups at this point. 😂😂 White nationalists the world over have bent the knee to a mixed-race man who admitted moving to an Eastern European country because of their more lax laws on sexual assault, and in turn, the ease he would have in exploiting the local women in the country’s already active sex-trafficking trade.

White nationalists (whose role in the reactionary right cannot be discarded any more, after Trump and Kanye had a personal dinner with Nick Fuentes) feel more of an affiliation with a non-white, human trafficking violent rapist, despite evidence of his crimes having been public for a while now, than they do with his WHITE victims.

Jordan Peterson, whose daughter has revolved her entire public image around him, who works with and for him, and whose lingerie photographs were retweeted by him, made a dogwhistle in May about women having their right to vote retracted.

Examples of men devaluing the contributions and rights of the women in their families, communities and wider societies are withstanding the test of time, over and over again, because no matter where in the world they are, and no matter what tensions the different religions, cultures, ethnicities and races of men have with each other, there are traits that unite them all. Misogyny is the most obvious one.

The men of these diverse, far-reaching societies, in many ways feel far more of a kinship to each other, than they do to any woman, girl, gay person, disabled person, mother, child, or any other demographic.

The pendulum always swings back, and now that we know these men have got the owner of the world's biggest social media platform on their side, that is a major sign it could be coming soon. Be on guard and look after each other gyns ❤️

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Spiked

Published: Sept 16, 2024

The new UK Labour government has declared war on free speech. Within weeks of gaining power, it scrapped a law upholding free speech in universities. In early August, following rioting across England, it announced plans to tighten the regulations on online speech. Perhaps most troubling of all, Keir Starmer is also considering writing a broad definition of ‘Islamophobia’ into law, which would make it almost impossible to criticise Islam and even Islamic extremism.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali – writer, activist and author of Prey: Immigration, Islam and the Erosion of Women’s Rights – returned to The Brendan O’Neill Show last week to discuss the importance of free speech in the battle against Islamist extremism. What follows is an edited extract from the conversation. You can listen to the full thing here.

Brendan O’Neill: Why do you think politicians – even those who would define themselves as ‘liberal’ – are so willing to adopt a phrase like Islamophobia?

Ayaan Hirsi Ali: I think it has to do with guilt about the past. When it comes to the Jews, many European countries did not protect them from Nazi persecution, so there’s definitely a sense that we don’t want to do the same to our Muslim minorities. When I was living in the Netherlands, this was a very potent argument. The Dutch felt extremely guilty about the fact that, in proportion to the Dutch population, more Jews were removed from their homes and sent to concentration camps, than in any other country in Europe. So there’s definitely a sense of ‘let’s not repeat history’. But this is also what makes me so angry, because the Islamists – and to a certain extent, the leftists – will exploit this. They will exploit what is essentially the goodness of human beings, a desire to ‘do right this time round’, in order to do wrong.

While the Islamists want to use democracy as a tool to win power and then abolish democracy, I think the woke left also wants to do something similar. I think this is part of why the far left does rely on the Islamists to vote for them. This is then compounded by the fact that the white working class, which was traditionally the group of people the Labour Party relied on, has faded. So instead, these parties rely increasingly on migrants. This is their new demography. They think they can harness their vote to come to power. People talk about the ‘great replacement’, but it’s actually a ‘great realignment’. The parties which used to represent the working classes now no longer do so. Instead, they now just represent capital.

O’Neill: So what do you make of this idea of the ‘Muslim vote’ in the UK, particularly in relation to the new Labour government?

Ali: I see Keir Starmer as a front for the radical left. He needs the Muslim vote, and the Muslim vote can be relatively easily gained because Islamists can skillfully organise their communities to vote. But the question that Keir Starmer, and other leftist parties across Europe, should ask themselves is this: ‘What are they demanding in return?’ Because the Islamists do have many demands in return. First and foremost, they want censorship. They want ‘Islamophobia’ to be made illegal. And the way they define Islamophobia is any form of criticism of the political agenda of Islam.

If you talk about the radical views being preached in the mosques or the schools, that’s Islamophobia. If you question the fact that some imams are telling their congregations not to assimilate and to distance themselves from ‘the infidels’, that’s Islamophobia. If you talk about the recent examples of sexual abuse against women and girls, some perpetrated by Muslim immigrants, that’s Islamophobia. If you highlight that there is a kind of soft Sharia law in Britain – which is well established in many Muslim communities when it comes to marriages, divorces and inheritances – that’s Islamophobia. The same goes if you want to talk about the fact that there are Muslim women in Muslim households being beaten, curfewed, removed from school, forced to marry and then raped. If you want to expose any of this, you’re committing Islamophobia. And so, all of a sudden, you can’t fight sexual violence against women perpetrated by men.

That is what banning Islamophobia is going to ban, if you allow it. It will ban discussing these issues in the name of human rights and equality. If you question this and ask, ‘Do we really want this parallel society?’, you’ll be called Islamophobic.

These days, the Islamists are less and less secretive about their agenda. This can be seen recently in the blatant anti-Semitism in some Muslim communities. But if you bring this stuff up, and try to get politicians to discuss it, you’re again accused of Islamophobia. This is the question that we have to ask governments, particularly the leftist governments that are trying to outlaw Islamophobia. It is criticism of Islam that’s going to be banned. Journalists and newspapers will no longer be able to exercise their free-press rights to investigate crimes that are being committed.

O’Neill: The unwillingness of the woke left, even the moderate left, to ever criticise radical Islam is extraordinary. We really are in a difficult situation, aren’t we?

Ali: Absolutely. We’re emboldening them. The woke left is the enemy of civilisation, and they say so themselves. They’re deconstructing everything. On the other hand, the Islamists are also clearly an enemy of civilisation – our Western civilisation in particular. We’ve got to stand up to these two forces now. The silent majority has to stand up and stop this before they stop us. And the only way to do that is through freedom of speech, which is exactly what they want to take away from us.

As voters, we still have the capacity to organise, vote, find new leaders and reject what is being imposed on us. In the decay of the universities, alongside the censorship in schools, there’s definitely a concerted effort to silence us. Most worryingly of all, I think, is what we’ve seen after the riots and how the government has responded. Whereas previously you might be cancelled or piled-on online, now the elites are using the law. British prisons, which are effectively full, are clearing out convicted criminals, some of whom have done all sorts of horrible things, to put people in prison for putting words and images online. They’re using the awesome powers of the state to censor and to silence us. Soon we could be banned from saying things that are, in this very sinister phrase, ‘legal but harmful’. This should be met with the greatest opposition of all time. All of us need to go out into the streets and say, ‘stop right there’.

--

Ayaan Hirsi Ali was talking to Brendan O’Neill on The Brendan O’Neill Show. Listen to the full conversation here:

==

A modern Islamic insurgence is no longer conducted with swords on horseback, but with the aggressors using the language of victimhood.

[luckyshinyhunter]

Having trouble finding some films to watch, especially now that it's pride month?

Well have no fear, because I have some that is recommended, whether queer or queer-coded, these are movies you should watch.

Despite being forgotten or criticize being "woke", Strange World is a underrated gem that join the list of underrated and forgotten disney films such Lightyear, Treasure Planet and Atlantis.

It has an gay main character and a diverse cast including an 3-legged dog. Inspired by classic sci-fi adventure film in the 50's and 60's, Strange World is fun adventure film about an generation of a family dealing with their own faults, also opening a door of possibilities with it's lore.

Freaky is a fun twist on the classic "Freaky Friday" trope, telling the story of a teenager who swap bodies with a serial killer, thanks to a mystical artifact.

Co-written and directed by the guy who also made Happy Death Day, Freaky delivers some gore-filled kills and feel good laughs while offering some parts of queer identity along with a gay character who proud of who he is.

The Fear Street trilogy itself not only joined the list of amazing horror films in 2021 but also an spot of queer horror.

It follows an romance of two lesbian teens in the 90's not only dealing with homophobia but also a ancient connected curse of the town of Shadyside.

Chalked with nostalgia of classic horror films like Scream, Friday the 13th and The Crucible.

Fear Street wins fans over with it's violent kills, remarkable characters, talented performances, and great and relatable queer representation.

Jennifer's Body introduced an another horror icon and bisexuality.

Megan Fox plays Jennifer Check who was possessed by a demon and targets on guys after being sacrificed by an fame-hungry band.

Tho Jennifer is not a lesbian, but the films does show that she is interested in both boys and girls, claiming she goes both ways and has some interest in her friend Needy, even kissing her too.

The cult classic not only has an amazing bisexual icon but tackles heavy themes such as assault, exploitation and the female gaze.

Bottoms is a must watch masterpiece, chaotic, brutal and gut-bursting funny, the film follows two high school friends that made a fight club to just hook up with two popular cheerleaders.

With an ridiculously unhinged final act, meet cute romance, and jokes that have you laughing your butt off. This 2000's coded movie is a a treat to start off the month.

After rewatching it again, Arlo has queer heavy themes if you think about it. Looking back, one of the film's characters, has some queer-coded hints about him.

I'm not going to spoil on the titular character, I think you should watch the film in order to get what I'm saying.

Other than that the film has an amazing soundtrack and has colorful characters as well.

Luca definitely is a queer film without a doubt. Focusing on two young sea monsters, spending an unforgettable summer in the town of Portorosso on the Italian Riviera.

It's themes of self discovery, chosen families, homophobia and acceptance.

This emotionally sweet sea-filled tale is a instant classic with a pretty much Canon couple too.

Robot Dreams also has hints of queer companionship and also is a story of loneliness, the film's out now, you definitely think you should see it.

Based off the comic in 2007, Robot Dreams is set in the 80's of New York City.

A lonely dog assemble and befriends a robot in a dialogue-less journey of friendship, love and rusted parts.

There's no surprises are a lot of clear queer-tonic themes in the films, especially among the two main characters, Robot Dreams is a perfect way to spend your summer.

Last year, Nimona was not only one final goodbye from Blue sky studios but is a part of the best films of 2023.

No surprise that the creator of the graphic novel also did Netflix's She-ra, the film is heavy on not only disability but also gender identity and transphobia.

it's a film that everyone will enjoy, thanks to it's commentary and electrifying performances by the cast, combine with pretty metal animation, Nimona is the film you should definitely watch.

🏳️‍🌈Happy pride month, hope all of you have a great day, and let me know on what think of these films.🏳️‍🌈

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Bonjour just woke up thinking about The Smallest Man as one does and gave myself the ick all over again about the “you said normal girls are boring” line because she very much did try to make her life as normal as humanly possible even to her own detriment because her then-partner insisted on a “normal” life likely weighted towards his terms

and it’s another subtle indication of the way this motherfucker sinewed his way into her life telling her the life she was leading was unfulfilling (true) but in reality it wasn’t to help her embrace her extraordinariness but a backhanded comment about the life she built with her partner which she desperately tried to make work and how he poisoned the well time and again to exploit her fears to serve his purposes and when it inconvenienced him he bailed

It’s like “why would you want a boring life in the stately manor when you could have ✨ this ✨” whenever she desperately wanted parts of that life just not the way her partner was going about it and IT MAKES ME ILL IDK

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 42 - The Trial

TW: mentions of genocide, totalitarian regimes, political extremism, and alcoholism. This one gets silly after I get lost in the sauce of analysing Bonta's political structures throughout history.

He was trying to toast them but couldn't reach. That's when the Darkness began to grow within him. That's the true sad backstory of Joris.

Not the last time he's too short for a toast in canon.

"ALBUM PHOTO"

Also, I will be real, by now I am actually unironically fluent in the Astrubian alphabet (non-cursive, non-handwriting). I don't know whether to be ashamed or proud of the lengths I went to, for this blog.

I think this takes place at the same time period as episodes 26 (A Hairy Mystery) and 50 (A Deadly Charm), because during both of those he also lived in Bonta, while Lou worked in law enforcement in some way. This would place those episodes before, or slightly before, all the adventures Kerubim would have with these three guys.

We are making some real progress here, folks.

Bonta, city of good, city of justice, everyone. Nothing corrupt or evil has ever taken place in it.

And it is definitely not just as bad as Brakmar.

Yes Kerubim. There are.

"DOSSIER"

Presented without comment.

Let's ignore the yet another instance of Kerubim being an unreliable narrator, or that ticket saying "KANI LAND", and focus on more important things:

Do you think Lou utilized girl power correctly when she sentenced three men, one of whom was scammed, the other of whom was robbed, and the third of whom is literally mentally ill, to prison? Do you think it was real Bontarian justice when she accepted a bribe to reverse that decision, and then decided to put the man who gave her that bribe in jail for four months to ensure she would receive it?

People who have only watched the shows may not be aware just how canon Bonta's evil nature is, and how much of a joke and a sham its "The City of Good" name is. It hasn't been explored in the Wakfu series, — actually, on the contrary, it has been portrayed as unquestionably good, through its aid to the Sadida Kingdom, through Joris's good deeds, — while in this series, its corruption is mostly played as a joke.

But it really is an unending nightmare that keeps failing everyone within it.

From people who are forced to mold themselves into an aspirational, heroic image, by completely destroying themselves with untreated mental illnesses and alcoholism, — like Bakara, or, to a lesser degree, Kerubim,

To people caught within its intrigues, unfairly convicted or framed. Like Julith's framing, which was an inside job, perhaps by the Huppermage temple itself.

To the fucking Huppermage genocide that happened centuries after, during a civil war, which has forced the survivors to flee to an island.

To the tolerance and acceptance of nobles like Ush.

Bonta has sucked badly for 600 horrid, horrid years, and it will likely never stop sucking, because the gods who founded it also suck ass.

It's such a tar pit, it's insane.

Anyway, man I wonder if trying to fix a city for 600 years, while knowing that this city killed your parents, made your aunt an alcoholic, and then resulted in the genocide of your people, would make someone want to start, perhaps, a militant fascist dictatorship with LOTS of guns, and slavery (BUT WOKE) as well as exploitation. Because only they, all alone, with like, two other people, can fix it. With guns. Haha.

Man, my headcanons are getting more delusional by the m——

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

[myngxy-sue]

I think the Magical Girl genre exposes how disingenuous the anti-woke crowd is about wanting female characters who are strong but also feminine. You'd think that the genre that's pretty much the embodiment of that idea would have a lot more respect in those spaces, but they end up being ignored if not outright disrespected alongside other female centered media they look down on.

Then you realize it's pretty much a Margot Robbie situation where they only care about femininity when it appeals to the male gaze.

Now, this isn't to say that appealing to the male gaze is a bad thing and that the female gaze is superior, especially when we put into perspective how fluid either can be.

But when magical girl works try to appeal to a shounen/seinen audience, it can yield some... weird results to put it lightly. Especially when the way they choose to go about it ends up exploiting the characters purely just to appeal to said audience.

And since shoujo magical girl anime tends to have things that crowd considers "woke" like queerness for instance, it's not surprising they ignore the genre.

[popcornforone]

A Good Judge of Character

A Young Dave York Fan Fic

Well well well,

This wasn’t on The cards at all yesterday morning when I woke up. & I promised myself no more stupid deadlines for 2024 for fic writing, to do it at my own pace. But hey it’s stil 2023. Basically these two new photos of younger Pedro dropped & all me & the girls could think of was young Dave… so here I am writing a Young assassin Dave York for you all. What a way to end 2023 on a Dave York Saturday.

Synopsis:- as assistant to the newest assassin you need to write a character reference for him for a job, but the job is rather spicy & so might be Dave attitude to you.

Word count:- 2700

Warnings:- DONOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Fingering, sucking, teasing, lack of consent, blackmail, sexual harassment, mentions of brothals & anal & toys, swearing. Sexual exploitation, talk of sexual stuff, sex at work, pleasure, bribery, anger, manipulation DAVE YORK AS ALWAYS COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING because he’s a darn arrogant bastard & here he really is.

Thanks as always for the read peoples, it’s always appreciated, all feedback back is welcome. I hope you enjoys. Also as I’m here thanks for all the reading in 2023, bring on 2024.

It drops on your desk. He walks past with arrogance, not even looking at you as he rambled.

“I need a character reference for the next job, no more than 750 words, details are on the system for the job, I’ll pick it up after lunch.” He doesn’t even acknowledge you in those few words & saunter, as he slides out the office. The new arrogant young assassin thinks he owns the world.

“Okay” you mumble “it’s not like I wanted to have lunch” you scoff under your breath. He wouldn’t have paid attention anyhow & he’s long gone out if the room, but your pretty sure he’s got a microphone somewhere on your desk to record you, to get any evidence he might need on you one day. You quote in your head his infamous words, everyone’s a target before they become an unfortunate.

You open up word & find your basic background information for him & then sigh as you pick up the file to find the job code.

“Okay Mr York, which adventures do you want to go on today… woooooo” you were lazily scanning the brief detail over, when the word anal penetration appears. You blush bright red. You read the next few lines & more words appear along a similar genre, including glass dildos & flogging. You quickly turn it over & do a sharp in take of breath. Your fine with reading about killing peoples but this is a different level. You pop your head up from behind your desk, to make sure no one is paying attention to you, that no one’s going to come & walk behind you while you are typing & looking at inappropriate things. You take a deep breath & read his proposed assignment properly that he’s applied for.

He wants to go to a brothel, ran my the Dresden’s. One of the ladies who services people who is well know for flogging gentlemen & likes to make them suck on glass dildos (now that you’ve read it properly) while they fuck her, knows where the main owner traffic’s his new girls from. Girls is underlined because unfortunately they are just that, little girls.

It is good for all new up & coming agents to go undercover, they are all also expected to seduce both sexes, so clearly Mr York wanted to try & be under cover & have sex with another woman at the same time. You’re very impressed.

“Clever man” you state, no longer blushing & start writing for him so it can impress his boss, so he gets this job. You’ve seen enough romance films & know what Mr York is like to know how to write this so it sounds like him. He just needs to read your proposal, before he then emails his application to the big boss, for him to be the best person to get this information. Your fingers type aways, making your boss sound like a sex god. Talking about how he’s had many women & men, how he always practices safe sex, how he likes to strum a clit like a base guitar. How he can make a man do anything with the right kind of persuasion. As you write it you blush at what you are putting. You have no idea if Mr York is any of these things, but you all know in this building that he will one day end up being the top assassin here. His kill record & his combat & the way he tortures people without them realising is exemplary. He’s going places & his enemies are going to be sleeping with the fishes. He will become the ultimate ghost one day.

25mins later, you send a copy to his computer & you put your out of office on. You know Mr York will scoff when he comes back from his lunch soon & will see you not sat at your desk. He will think you are slacking, but you deserve your lunch & some time to yourself to get over about what you’ve just written about your boss.

When you arrive back at your desk after having to then go & discuss a new fire safety protocol or all assistants & less ‘trained’ staff, you see a post it note stuck on your screen. “My office 3pm DY” Mr York wants to talk to you & it looks like it was slammed on your screen in anger. You gulp & try to calm down. Did your covering letter go too far, or not far enough? Did Mr York just in his arrogant way not proof it & send it to the boss as it was? You don’t actually have much time to prepare it’s already 2:50. You deal with a few more emails, before grabbing your iPad & making the 8 steps to the office door. 3 knocks he always likes & you pop to your head around the door. The door reads Mr Dave York.

“Come” he says firmly. For a man who’s only been an assassin for 10 months, you’d think he’d been doing it for years. He very quickly got sent out on back up for high profile missions & his numbers grew quickly. There are people on this floor with offices that have been here 7 years that don’t have a record or work ethic like this man. He’s filled with confidence & control.

You slowly step into the room.

“Mr York you wanted to see me” you close the door behind you & he briefly looks up.

“Lock it” it’s a firm delivery. You do as he says & you walk to sit on the other chair at your side of his desk. Daves gone for a more casual look today. This morning there was team building for climbing in the forest to see who could get the best sniper advantage. He knew he didn’t have any meetings afterwards, so smart jeans, a purple jumper & a plaid jacket over the top of his chair shows he’s still important, but more relaxed. Usually it’s a sharp suit & tie. Trousers that don’t hide anything, not that his jeans aren’t tight. You always have a quick glance. He’s going to age like a fine wine this handsome man, & his girlfriend who he’s just asked to move in, will get to see him blossom.

“What can I do for you Mr…” your voice trials off as the characterisation of Dave you wrote earlier is pushed across the desk to you.

“Care to explain” he’s finally lifted his head & is looking at you with those beautiful but devilish eyes. This is a test you feel.

“You wanted 750 words as to how you could do this job, so I fluffed it up.” You say as you turn red. “If you wanted something else, maybe a bit more detail would have helped me to write you better”

“Hmmm” Dave says, his hands clasp together. “So you made me out to be a ladies man, & a man’s Man. Ready & willing to do whatever to protect my country including sleep with multiple whores? Correct?” He hasn’t taken his eyes off you at all. They are burrowing deep into your soul. Your white silk knickers are dampening as your arousal grows. His voice is deep & it’s making you feel & want the unspeakable.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Oooh I did, but I didn’t realise you’d go into such detail” he says & snaps the piece of paper back. “Come round here look at the screen” you slowly stand up & straighten your skirk & go around to his side of the desk. He points & highlights a line. “My fingers are thick enough that she wouldn’t notice the difference.” He nods in slight approval “now are you saying there that I have fat fingers or a not so girthy penis?” You blush unsure what to say.

“Mr York I never meant to…”

“Would you like to find out…” you turn red & you have a face like thunder.

“I’m sorry what”

“Would you like to know if my fingers are as fat as my cock?” He says & he licks his lips. “On the desk” you haven’t moved. You’re in shock. “You’re my assistant, you do as I say, on the desk…now” you hop on the desk but keep your legs crossed. He sounds loud & angry. His large hands then take your small dainty ones & he uses them to undo his fly. “One hand palming my cock the other on my two fingers” he says.

“& what if I say this is sexual harassment?” You state. He knows you have a point.

“Do you really think they’d fire me? Their star boy? Sweetheart, remember what I always tell you, everyone’s a target, before they become an unfortunate” he winks, suggesting that he would deal with you if you even thought about telling anyone this. This is black mail & controlling & sexual advantage from him. But then you see that lip curl, you shouldn’t be putty in his hands, you’re stronger than this but you don’t care. You want to see what they both feel like. You start to palm his boxers & rub his fingers as Dave hisses & moans at your touch.”ooh your partner at home is very lucky in deed.” Then he looks you dead in the eye & says boldly. “Consent?” You think for a few seconds.

“Agreed I consent” you just about get the word out of your mouth before his tongue is down your throat. A hungry feverish kiss which has your body twitching. No man has ever kissed you quite like this & it drives you crazy. Your need for intimacy grows. You don’t realise it but in pulling Dave closer to feel his body, you’ve let go of his cock & only have hold of his fingers.

“Fingers it is then” he moans & he lets go & both his hands move up your thighs.

“Hmmm” you whine back confused not realising you’d made a choice.

“Oooh don’t play dumb girl” his hand slip in your knickers waist band & pull them down towards your ankles. Your legs, even if you didn’t want them to part, & Dave can see how much you’ve been enjoying this. “I’m a good judge of character.” He licks the fingers you were stroking. “& trust me you will not regret this.”

Dave rolls your skirt up & his hand goes between your thighs. His thumb on your clit. Doing what you’d thought about. Strumming you, getting you all pent up. The noise you then make is a whimper as his damp fingers are covered in your arousal. You grip the desk behind you, you now wish you hadn’t let go of his penis as Dave hoovers over you.

“I’m gonna make you cum baby, whether you want to or not.” In slides the first fingers & he grabs your thigh, if he grabbed harder there would be a red mark there in the morning. You gasp & feel them rub inside you. Slow for the first 3 motions but the pace quickly increasing.

“Dave…” you moan, clamping around him.

“Who told you, you could say my actual name?” He grips your thigh harder. “Pleasure doesn’t mean I’m not Mr York, when I’m using you, I’m more Mr York than I ever am.”

“S… so…sorry” & then you grip the desk harder & move closer to Dave, the third finger is inside you now. It’s a rush. He couldn’t pick up any more friction if he tried. Your body convulses.

“You gonna be a good girl? You’re going to meet my every need? Are you going to assist me in everything from writing up emails to letting me fuck you in the arse? God if your arse is half as tight as your cunt, we’re going to have fun” he is saying this menacingly & you are panting, grinding around his fingers & thumb. Your pleasure is ready to explode. His hand leaves your thigh & grips round your chin. “Answer me” your so pent up & it all just comes out in a moment of passion.

“Yes oh fuck yes yes yes”

“Cum for me baby”

“Fuckkkkk” you drench his hand. Any paperwork you might have been sat in would also be ruined. Those large fat fingers of Daves worked their magic in a matter of minutes. He watches in wonder as your body responds & he smile devilishly that he’s been able to do this.

“You liked that beautiful” he whispers in your ear. You nod & go mmmmm that’s all you can do right now. You’re hoping you get his penis next. “You did? That’s good to know” he slowly lifts his sodden fingers to your mouth & slips them in. “Tell me do you want more” your mouths full as you suck away, he’s keeping your fingers in there. Your eyes are wide & you nod. “Well that’s to bad” he lets go of your hand & zips up his fly, & you splutter saliva all over you as you gag at that.

“I’m sorry?” You look confused.

“Did you really think I was going to go under cover at a brothel?” Dave asks. Your eyes go crazy & then shoot him a look.

“What” you grab your iPad & scroll for the item details on there.

“Oh that mission is real, for about 3 years ago, for someone else, but I needed to prove I could get someone to do what they wanted & give me what I needed by the end of the week, so why not the assistant.” Your eyes are in shock.

“This was all a trick”

“Yes but no but yes & let’s be honest, you didn’t exactly say no did you” he’s pacing in front of you showing you home his control & power over you. You go to challenge him”in fact…” he says before you say a word”…I have you consenting” he hold up his phone which is recording. “Don’t worry though sweetheart” he taps your thigh. “This will stay between us, & let’s be honest everyone in this office has had sex with someone at some stage, you just got to have the in thing.” He winks & heads for the door, to leave. “I’ll let you get cleaned up & sorted before you get back to work. I have a genuine character reference for you to do before 6pm” the door closes on you.

Your now sat alone dripping onto Daves desk with your knickers around your ankles. He’s played you. He got what he wanted. He wanted a seduction & someone who’s do whatever to help him, you proved that & he tricked you into consenting. You’ve been violated & tricked into this & you feel vulnerable. You can’t complain, he made his point about what would happen to you, even if you went to the police you’d end up dead. Your helpless & lost. You shimmy your knickers back on & compose yourself & head out of Daves office & back to your desk.

The next morning when you arrive at work, there’s a bunch of flowers on your desk & a note. “Sorry not my best work yesterday, hopefully these & a much more consensual meeting at the Burlington hotel tonight will help me to apologies DY” you slightly smile as he walks past.

“Ooh secret admirer?” He asks knowing full well they are from him. “Whatever they did to you, they must be very sorry, I’ve never seen that many flowers before” he says with a coy wink. You softly smile back to him & write on a post it note to say yes I consent on it. He smiles & the devils look returns to those big puppy dog eyes.

“What can I say, I’ve got him wrapped round my fingers, it’s almost like I am a good judge of character” you say as you bite the end of your pen & turn to face your screen. Dave says nothing else as he goes in his office, but soon your chat box to him opens up & it just says form him. “That’s my good girl”.

[run2yoongi]

puppy love | jjk + kth x reader (4)

you’d met jeon jungkook and his best friend kim taehyung in your first year at university. it didn’t take long for you to fall for jungkook, however it was clear that he was less than interested in romance. you pushed down the frustration and jealousy when jungkook talks about his weekend exploits and dating app matches, telling yourself that being friends with benefits was better than being nothing at all. you didn’t expect that one of the benefits of your arrangement with jungkook would be his best friend, taehyung.

↳ pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader

↳ setting: college au

↳ warnings: consumption of alcohol, jealous!taehyung, cliffhanger kinda

↳ side note: lil joonie cameo in this one! it might be a little unclear in this one but tae is also a student, he just tutors y/n bc he's smart hehe

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taehyung hadn't missed the banging of his dorm neighbours headboard on their shared wall. jungkook wasn't shy when it came to his volume, despite the numerous texts taehyung had sent to tell him to quiet down. on any normal day, taehyung would just put on his headphones and ignore it, focus on his practice exams as usual. except, this time, you weren't answering his texts either.

it shouldn't bother him, he'd known something had been going on between his best friend and you for a while. however, he couldn't get rid of the gnawing feeling in his gut. he couldn't be sure that the moans he was hearing next door were from you, but the odds weren't looking good. he brushed off the bubbling sensation of jealousy, telling himself that it was just irritation at the noise, that he had no claim over you but the frustrating feeling refused to dissipate.

he'd left the dorm quickly, unable to stifle the sinking feeling in his chest at the thought of you being so close, yet still wrapped up in jungkook's whirlwind of a sex life. subconsciously, he hoped he'd run into you as he passed by the library on the way to the campus bar, but your usual spot was empty. his chest tightened, as his thoughts began to run dark. in the countless hours he'd spent tutoring you, you'd been a perfect, innocent pupil. so focused on your grades that you never noticed him. how could you suddenly become the complete opposite when you were around his best friend? he needed to see it for himself.

after you'd fallen asleep next to an exhausted jungkook, your muscles ached as you woke up with the glaring screen of your phone stinging your eyes. jungkook had his hand draped delicately over your hip, snoring softly in a peaceful, shallow slumber. reading over your missed messages, you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

from: tae 2hrs ago

are you still at the library?

just got back to the dorms if you're free

you groaned, frustrated at how easily you'd slipped into a state of unconsciousness after you had planned on catching taehyung and jimin after they returned from their dance practice.

to: tae

oops just woke up

you withdrew from the bed, gently sliding out from under jungkook's grasp so you wouldn't disturb him. waking him up to say goodbye felt a little too intimate, even if you'd just woken up to his legs tangled with yours. fixing your hair and clothes as best you could, you left the dorms and headed straight to your own, determined to shower and get rid of the questionable stain that was hidden on the inside of your skirt.

your phone screen lit up, and you glanced at the preview.

from: tae

silly girl

as you entered your dorm building, you read over the text with a sheepish grin. taehyung seemed to like teasing you, especially during your tutoring sessions. it almost made it seem appealing to get some of his questions wrong, just to hear whatever taunt he had prepared for you.

at the campus bar, taehyung had successfully managed to get you out of his thoughts for a couple short hours. he'd actually ran into some friends from his high school and had caught himself listening intently to one of them talk about whatever assigned reading they'd been given by their psychology professor. then you'd messaged him, and all the drinks his old friends had bought him seemed to catch up at once.

excusing himself and slipping out to the smoking area, he calmly took a breath of air and called you. the alcohol in his system steeled his nerves as he waited for you to answer.

you picked up the phone, fresh out of the shower. water droplets were still falling from your hair when you read the caller ID, surprised at the unprompted call. "hey, taehyung." you spoke slowly, curiosity lacing your tone.

you heard the steady beat of music on the other end of the line, muffled by distance and the sound of chatter. "y/n, hi." taehyung replied sounding hesitant, as if he hadn't been the one to call. "what's up?" you questioned as you stood in front of your mirror, holding the phone to your ear as you noticed the light purple marking on the base of your neck.

"just wanted to see if you wanted to come out," he began. he spoke with a level of reservation that you weren't really used to, making you wonder if something was wrong. "i'm just at the campus bar."

you hummed, contemplating whether it was worth it to go out when your thighs still ached from jungkook's onslaught earlier. you had wanted to see taehyung tonight though, especially after seeing the dance practice video that jimin had posted of him. "ah, sure." you finally answered, sliding open the door to your wardrobe. "i'll be there soon."

-

by soon, taehyung learned that you really meant an hour as he saw you walk into the venue, craning your neck to find him. he waved to grab your attention, eyes glancing briefly over your exposed thighs as you approached him. it only took a moment to realise that he didn't really want to introduce you to his old high school friend, especially as they widened their eyes as you made your way over. it was too late though as you smiled at the pair, looking at taehyung expectantly as he hesitated to introduce you.

"this is namjoon," taehyung sighed, reluctantly gesturing to his older friend. "he's too old to be on campus, so keep an eye out for security."

namjoon laughed, his dimples becoming defined as his eyes landed back on his friend. "some people have to do post-graduate studies, taehyung." he rolled his eyes before glancing back at you. "what is your name, darling?" he asked, his charming accent catching your attention. you accepted his hand as he extended it to you, noting how warm it felt on your palm.

taehyung glared at his friend, his drunk mind growing bitter that between jungkook and now namjoon, he was constantly having to vie for your attention. "y/n." he answered for you, eyes flashing a careful warning to his friend. you sat down with the pair, smiling politely at namjoon. "let me get this round," namjoon spoke, his eyes focused on you as he stood from his seat. gone as quickly as you came.

you looked over to taehyung, who's eyes were already focused on you. on your neck. your hand flew up to block his view as you realised that he was staring at the purple love bite that jungkook had left, contempt written across his features as his lips formed into a thin, straight line.

he had been right, taehyung thought as he struggled to fight off the spread of bitterness in his mind. you didn't speak a word, unsure if you should feel more embarrassed or defensive. the two of you sat, looking at the crowd around you. you didn't see anyone you recognised, aside from taehyung who still had a distinct unimpressed expression on his features. you were relieved when namjoon returned shortly, placing a margherita in front of each of you, oblivous to the growing tension. it was evident that namjoon was kind and attentive as he asked you about yourself, your major, your interests. taehyung remained quiet, only interjecting to brush you off when you attributed your academic performance to his consistent tutoring.

you'd exchanged contacts with namjoon before he excused himself to speak with another table, his other friends, you assumed. left with taehyung, it occurred to you how little he had actually spoken to you considering he was the one who had invited you out. "you feeling okay?" you asked, turning your body towards him as you spoke. taehyung was heavy lidded, resting his chin in his palm, phone in hand. "you like hyung?" he asked you, ignoring your question.

"he's nice," you answered, glancing over at the older boy who had joined a game of pool. you didn't miss taehyung's eyebrow raise at your response, and you rolled your eyes at him. "you know what i mean. it's rare to meet someone who doesn't only talk about themselves here." you added.

"'joon is very popular." taehyung mumbled, staring into his empty glass. his cheeks were lightly flushed, and you wondered how much he'd had to drink before you arrived. "i'm sure you'd be very popular too if you weren't locking yourself in your room to study all the time," you teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

taehyung didn't seem amused. he just looked up at you with a mixture of glare and boredom. it was a far cry from the taehyung that you were used to, the one who would sit with you for hours going over every detail that you missed in your practice essays.

you shrunk in your seat, feeling defeated and confused at his attitude. you considered leaving early before taehyung interrupted your thoughts. "did you have fun?" he spoke, eyes fixed on your neck again.

you pursed your lips, cheeks beginning to warm up under his scrutiny. "hm?" you questioned, feigning ignorance as your hand subconsciously crept up to cover the mark that his friend had left. he leaned in closer to you, extending his arm to brush your hand away from its hold on your neck. "is this why you've been in a sour mood?" you asked, crossing your arms as you decided to defend yourself. "you think i'm trash now, or something?"

taehyung, uncharacteristically, smirked at your question. he was becoming increasingly difficult to read, especially as the drinks namjoon had offered you began to cloud your thoughts. "i'm not the one you need to be worried about, darling." he finally answered, mimicking namjoon’s pet name for you- you ignored how sweet it sounded coming from taehyung’s lips. instead, you thought over his words. was he implying jungkook thought less of you now just because he'd left a hickey on your neck? "that's your best friend." you retorted.

you seemingly struck a nerve as whatever playfulness was left in taehyung's eyes disappeared. he nodded, "sure is." he sighed, leaning back in his seat, switching his eyes from your neck to your face. "which is how i know you're wasting your time." he finished.

your stomach sank as you processed his words, unsure if it was worth it to pry if it meant getting your feelings hurt. "i know he isn't..." you paused, considering your word choice.

"i just think you can do better." taehyung interrupted, sighing as a resigned expression washed over his face. "like, if he's fucking other people, i don't know why you're not."

you shrugged, ignoring the wound that his words were inflicting on your ego. surely he didn't mean to hurt you, right? he wasn't wrong, you just didn't like to be reminded of how tightly you were wrapped around jungkook's finger.

"who else am i going to fuck, taehyung? i don't go out." you replied flatly. you finished the rest of your drink, desperate to drown the unpleasant feelings that were festering in your mind. taehyung paused, seemingly holding back whatever was on the tip of his tongue. it's not like he could talk, you almost never heard taehyung talk about his love life. in fact, trying to recall the last time he had even mentioned anyone he was interested in aside from unobtainable idols or actresses was a stretch.

"idiot," taehyung smiled, his voice drowned out by the 80s pop blaring over the speakers and shouting of the garish groups surrounding you. you rolled your eyes, eager to find a new topic to discuss outside your depressing, unrequited love life.

-

you hadn't stayed much longer as the bar began to become overcrowded. you quickly said your goodbyes to namjoon, he sent you a wink from across the bar as you waved, earning an unexpected giggle like you had suddenly been transported back to middle school. taehyung pretended he hadn't seen the interaction, instead deciding not to grace his high school friend with a farewell before the two of you decided to go for a walk back to the dorms and enjoy the nighttime breeze.

after one too many drinks, taehyung found his jealousy was becoming impossible to suppress, to ignore. as you walked across the campus lawn talking about your plans for the weekend, taehyung grew silent. when you'd finished speaking, you glanced over to him to find his eyes locked onto you with a pained expression.

"you okay?" you questioned, an intoxicated smile still splayed across your lips. taehyung shrugged in response, his expression unchanging as he crossed his arms. you could see his mind racing behind his eyes, the same way he looked when he was going over your work. "spit it out," you jeered, attempting to uphold the relaxed mood you'd found comfort in over the night.

"were you over at jungkook's, before?" he asked, his tone restrained. though, you thought he already knew the answer. he bit his lip as he waited for your response, clearly seeking confirmation. "yeah, i was." you admitted quietly, a wave of embarrassment suddenly filling your mind. taehyung broke his gaze and let out a sigh, to your confusion. had he really been bothered by it? you questioned, unable to contrive any words to fill the silence.

"i know it makes me seem pathetic, but it's not really like that," you began, staring off into the pattern of lights emanating from the dorm buildings. "i know what he wants or, what he doesn't want-"

"it's not pathetic, y/n." he interrupted, his gaze also set on the buildings which stood across from you on the grass. you raised your eyebrow staring at his soft lips as he refused to look back at you, instead choosing to fix his eyes on the earth beneath you. the cool night breeze danced through taehyung's hair, revealing the peaks of his cheekbones, the mellow glow of the moon highlighting his features.

he lead you into his dorm building and into the elevator without a word. you'd already spent too much time in that same dorm block today, you thought. in your drunken haze, you didn't really question where you were going. you were just happy to be spending time with your friend outside of brutal tutoring sessions.

as you made your way down the hall, you passed the door to jungkook's room. still as silent as you left it, you wondered if he'd ever even woken up. the door to taehyung's room opened as he held it open for you. you'd been inside taehyung's room before, but this felt different. more intimate than when it was the trio- taehyung, jungkook and yourself. you stepped inside and removed your shoes cautiously, hesitant to make yourself comfortable.

"does namjoon live on campus?" you asked, attempting to break the tension that you hoped you were just imagining. taehyung rolled his eyes at you as he plopped down on his bed, reaching for the bottle of water that sat on his desk. "why, are you interested? you're just as bad as jungkook." he taunted.

"i'm not into every guy i see, tae." you scowled, pulling out his desk chair to seat yourself across from him. taehyung raised his eyebrows at you as he sipped from his water, wordlessly refuting your statement. "i'm not!" you repeated, swatting him on the arm softly.

"i'm kidding, i know that." he sighed, rubbing his arm where you'd landed your hit. "no need to get violent, love." you shook your head at him, feeling the heavy atmosphere begin to dissipate. "he doesn't, actually. you'll need to find someone else's dorm to be a noise disturbance at." he finally answered. your face flushed, realising what he'd said. he'd heard you. you mumbled an apology, keeping your hands in your lap as shame began to spread heat across your face.

after offering the water bottle to you, taehyung spread himself across his bed, fixing his arms underneath his pillow to prop himself up. the muscles of his arm were on full display, the short sleeves of his shirt doing little to dissuade you from staring. the hem of his shirt slipped up as he shifted to make himself more comfortable, revealing the toned flesh underneath. you tried not to look, but taehyung was just as irritatingly pretty as jungkook- you couldn't help yourself, not with the buzz of alcohol running through you.

taehyung watched you struggle with yourself, a smirk growing on his lips. he liked you like this the most, frustrated and with your attention entirely fixed on him. it was something he'd gotten used to as he tutored you, something he looked forward to every week. a part of him liked it a lot more, though, when you were getting frustrated over him rather than academics.

you lifted the water bottle to your lips to hide your shame as a few droplets slipped and fell onto your shirt. "so messy," taehyung teased. "you always get this uncoordinated when you drink?" he reached for his phone and turned on some music, a song you didn't recognise.

"no, do you always get this grumpy when you drink?" you responded sharply. taehyung laughed and shook his head at your counter, taking the bottle from you and placing it on his desk and looked up at you, something dark crossing his eyes. "no, just when i have to listen to my star pupil getting fucked from the other side of the wall."

your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. he really was bothered by it. you thought after you'd apologised, that would be the end of it- but it seemed taehyung was keen on pressing the issue. you squeezed your thighs together, shifting in your seat under his uncomfortable gaze. "why'd you ask me to come out, then?" you asked, dumbfounded.

taehyung hummed, carefully thinking over his answer before speaking. "it's a bit difficult to get out of your mind, after hearing that." he tilted his head to the side, his calculating eyes anticipating your reaction. you couldn't make heads or tails of him. was he angry? jealous? even if he was jealous, you couldn't tell if he was jealous of jungkook or yourself. after you said nothing, he continued. "i guess i just gave up." he sat up on the bed, breaking the comfortable distance between you, making your breath hitch in your throat.

he was toying with you, you finally concluded, and unfortunately, he was succeeding at getting under your skin. you wondered if he'd only invited you out to watch you squirm. "what's the point in getting shy now?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow at your silence. "i-i'm not." you stuttered, unable to defend yourself from his teasing in this new, unfamiliar territory. an unexpected wave of arousal began to grow between your thighs at his teasing and silently, you cursed at yourself for playing right into his hands. "if you want," he paused, taking a breath. "we could get back at him."

your body became warm, your heart hammering under your hot flesh as your lips parted in shock. taehyung had always been blunt, but he'd never been this forward. "you're drunk," you dismissed him, breaking eye contact to look anywhere that wasn't his face. "you don't mean that." you added.

"think about it, you're sitting around and waiting on someone who's happily fucking other people." he leaned forward, speaking with a subdued enthusiasm that spread heat across your face. "you should let him know you're doing the same, since you're just friends."

you opened and closed your mouth, unable to refute his words even if you wanted to. he had a point, but with taehyung? his best friend? your tutor? it was a line you knew shouldn't be crossed, even if you'd never discussed it. though, part of you wondered if he would even care. "i don't want to have sex with someone just to get back at him." you eventually responded in a hushed voice.

taehyung nodded in understanding, but you could still feel his intense gaze on your face. "your choice," he shrugged, "but the offer is there.". you bit your lip, taken aback by how cooly taehyung was playing off this situation. "if we.." you paused, embarrassed at how lewd the conversation had become. "you know, if we ever do it. it'll be because i want to." you mumbled, still averting your gaze.

taehyung's ears perked up, unsure if he heard you correctly. "if you want to?" he mused, raising his brows at you. "and do you want to?". you looked back to him, his eyes eager for your response. he wanted to make you say it. you wanted to save yourself the humiliation and shout no, but at this point, you knew that would be dishonest. so instead, you sat there, frozen.

taehyung relaxed his posture on the bed and let out a heavy sigh, momentarily taking the pressure off you. "i'm sorry y/n, that was probably too far." he admitted. you nodded at his apology, though not entirely agreeing. he was incredibly handsome and definitely sought after, if the looks he got around campus were anything to go by. but you weren't willing to do something that he’d likely regret once you'd both sobered up- even if the deepest part of you wanted to.

"it's not that," you began, your voice uneasy. "i just don't want you to do something like that because you pity me.". taehyung's eyes widened. "because i pity you?" he repeated in disbelief. "y/n..." .

his hands reached for the arms of your chair and pulled you towards him towards the bed. his face was so close, you could see the glistening reflection of the lamp in his eyes. he brought his hand up to your jaw, softly cupping your face. "you have no idea what you do to me. just know…" he sighed. the temptation to kiss him started to seep into your thoughts, his lips were so full and his face looked so soft, so perfect. "if you do want to, i'm not going to take it easy on you." he whispered a heavy warning, seemingly reading your mind as you clenched your thighs together tightly, a warm sensation overwhelming your lower half.

"you never do," you squeaked, feeling powerless to his attempts to bring you closer to him, to get you to admit that you wanted him.

"just know if you say yes, you'll have to be mine."

[mayamidnightmelody]

Salma Hayek

Salma Hayek. Just saying her name conjures up images that make your phone wanna overheat . This Mexican goddess isn't just about the looks though (although girl, those LOOKS!), she's got an acting fire that burns brighter than habanero hot sauce on taco Tuesday ️. But let's be real, there's a reason she's been slaying the screen for decades - it's that killer confidence that has her rocking everything from teeny bikinis to birthday suits with a smile that says "I woke up like this" ‍♀️.

Society's still tripping about women owning their bodies, but Salma? She's like "yeah, I got curves, what?". Whether it's a sizzling red dress that hugs her like a favorite teddy bear or a movie scene where she's, well, letting it all hang out, she pulls it off with a self-assuredness that's, dare we say, inspiring? Like, girl, you do you, boo!

Now, some might raise an eyebrow at her willingness to bare it all on screen. Take her role in "Ask the Dust," for example. There's a scene where she appears completely unclothed. But here's the thing: it's not gratuitous or exploitative. Salma approaches nudity with the same confidence she brings to everything else. It's part of the character, a vulnerable moment that unfolds naturally within the story. There's no sense of titillation, just a raw honesty that makes the scene even more powerful. It's a testament to her dedication as an actress, a willingness to push boundaries and tell stories that are real and impactful. And let's be honest, it's pretty darn unforgettable too.

Of course, there's always gonna be haters gonna hate. But Salma shuts down the body-shamers with the fierceness of a mama bear protecting her cubs . She's all about celebrating what she's got, and that includes those assets that make jaws drop faster than your phone does when you accidentally swipe left on a total cutie .

Let's talk about those assets for a sec, because, well, HELLO ! Salma's never been shy about her chest. She's rocked iconic dresses that, let's just say, leave little to the imagination . And guess what? She looks phenomenal! It's not about flaunting, it's about owning. It's about saying "This is my body, and I love it" .

Society loves to obsess over chest size, and Salma's always been one to break the mold. She's never been shy about curves, rocking dresses that proudly showcase her figure. But here's the thing: it's not about having the biggest chest in the room, it's about rocking what you've got with confidence. Salma carries herself with such a powerful presence that her chest becomes just one alluring detail in the masterpiece that is her.

And let's be honest, there's a certain liberation that comes with owning your body, all of it. In a world that constantly tries to dictate what's "sexy," Salma flips the script. She shows us that sensuality isn't about conforming to some airbrushed ideal, it's about embracing your unique form and radiating confidence from the inside out. That's the true magic of Salma Hayek: she's comfortable enough in her own skin to turn heads without even trying, and that's a kind of sexy that never goes out of style.

And that confidence is what makes her so darn sexy. It's not just about what she wears, it's the way she wears it. She's got this inner glow that shines brighter than any highlighter ✨. It's a reminder that true beauty comes from feeling good in your own skin, no matter what size or shape you are .

So next time you're feeling insecure about your bod, channel your inner Salma. Rock that outfit that makes you feel like a million bucks . Strut your stuff with your head held high . Because honey, you are a baddie, and the world needs to see your light ✨.

Remember, confidence is the sexiest outfit you can wear . And trust Salma Hayek on this one, she knows what she's talking about ;) :*

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

LOVE AND OTHER DRUGS

Word Count: 3.6K

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, Barry x reader

Summary: RAFE HELPS Y/N OUT OF A TOUGH SITUATION

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Throwing Up Drugs, Fainting, Fluff, Slight Flirting, Kissing

Masterlist

On a scorching summer afternoon, y/n woke up from her slumber on Barry's worn-out couch. The sun was high in the sky, signalling the middle of the day.

She had spent the previous night measuring and preparing cocaine for Barry's upcoming drug deals. Barry held the title of being the primary drug dealer of the OBX, capable of procuring any substance for anyone at a price of course. 

Y/n began collaborating with him informally around 8 months back, aiming to boost her finances and regain stability. However, she initially believed that once she accumulated sufficient funds, she could part ways. Instead, Barry harboured different intentions, refusing to let her go. 

Her tasks involved functioning as the ‘Drug Runner’ responsible for transporting narcotics to clients. Additionally, she also assumed the role of the "Money Changer," tasked with verifying the legitimacy of the cash.

Rafe, too, held a part-time position under Barry, primarily functioning as a drug tester and ‘The Muscle Man’. He played a crucial role in mentoring her, imparting knowledge on handling dodgy individuals and the details of the operation. 

The trio shared a deep bond until Ward, Rafe's father, compelled him to abandon this world and take control of his family's business. Rafe's departure was abrupt, leaving Y/n to step into his shoes and assume his responsibilities.

From the moment Rafe departed, the situation took a dramatic turn.

Barry's behaviour became increasingly exploitative. He utilised her as a drug courier, tasking her with transporting narcotics from OBX to offshore islands. He resorted to coercing her into swallowing small packets of cocaine to evade maritime customs. 

During her initial attempts, she struggled to keep them down. Barry would forcefully keep her mouth open and assist by pouring water down her throat. If she faltered, he would resort to physical violence, striking her across the face and pressing her against the wall until she complied.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

As Y/n finalised the packaging of all the cocaine parcels laid out on the table, Barry emerged from his room carrying 20 small clear sachets, placing them in her palm. "You need to swallow all of these," he instructed while retrieving a bottle of whiskey from the floor.

“20? Usually, I only swallow 5. And why are they clear?” she inquired with curiosity. His annoyance was evident in his gaze as he seized her by the back of the hair, raising his voice to command her compliance. He forcefully pushed her back onto the couch before taking a seat across from her.

"They're clear because it's not cocaine... Don't concern yourself; just swallow them now!" he commanded, retrieving his phone from his pocket. 

Y/n ingested them consecutively, resorting to water to aid their passage down her throat. 10 down 10 to go, she silently reminded herself. As she took in the final one, she reclined on the lounge, shutting her eyes.

"You've got five hours before they dissolve and become instant killers," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

Wide-eyed, she turned her gaze toward him, her voice trembling. "What? What do you mean, dissolve?" Her urgency caused her to rise abruptly.

"I warned you, darling. These aren't cocaine. They dissolve in the stomach if they stay longer than five hours. Another girl suffered that fate; she didn't act fast enough and dropped dead," he chuckled, taking a sip from his bottle.

Fury fuelled her words. "Then why the fuck are you making me do this if she died?" she snapped, attempting to induce vomiting by sticking her fingers down her throat.

Swift as lightning, he leapt to his feet, seizing her wrist and twisting her arm behind her back. His finger tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as he whispered threateningly,

"If you jeopardise this deal in any way, I'll hunt you down and have my way with you.” A lick grazed her neck as he let go, returning her bag to her possession.

He handed her instructions to the drop-off point on Figure 8, intended for a wealthy kook eager to indulge for the weekend. After approximately half an hour of driving, Y/n became aware of perspiration trickling down her forehead and her hands trembling uncontrollably.

She pulled over to the roadside and stepped out of the vehicle. Her condition had worsened to the point where she struggled to maintain her balance, ultimately collapsing onto her hands and knees.

She attempted to compose herself and re-enter the car. However, her efforts led to her vision blurring, evoking a surge of panic. Her breathing became rapid and irregular.

Struggling, she endeavoured to use Siri to call Barry, yet she immediately ceased, well aware of the repercussions that would follow if she proceeded. For roughly an hour, she remained in that state, motionless by the roadside.

Then, a familiar sound reached her ears — the distinct noise of a truck approaching. Recognising it, she heard the vehicle come to a halt behind her.

Footsteps drew closer, and a voice inquired, "Hey, do you need help?" The speaker moved into view, positioning himself to see her face. 

"OMG! Y/N, hey, are you okay?" he exclaimed, his hand gently lifting her chin and brushing her hair away from her face.

Through her blurred gaze, she discerned a vague outline of the person, recognising Rafe from the sound of his voice.

"Rafe, is that you?" she whispered.

"Yeah, Y/n, it's me. What happened?" he asked gently, taking her hand in his.

"I was on my way to make a delivery, and then my hands started shaking, and I felt sweaty. I pulled over for some fresh air, but I couldn't stand, and my legs gave out,” she explained, her voice quivering.

Tears welled up, and her voice trembled further. He grasped her hands and hoisted her up, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

"Where are the drugs? I'll handle the delivery for you," he offered, holding her securely around her waist to prevent her from collapsing

"Rafe, you don't understand... since you left, Barry started pushing these small packets of product that you have to swallow to avoid getting caught. If I don't deliver them within three hours, they'll dissolve, and I'll die," she rushed out, her breath laboured.

"Actually, I think they might be dissolving as we speak," she added, gripping his bicep for stability.

Stunned by her revelation, he regarded her in disbelief. Gently, he supported her by placing her arm around his shoulders.

"What the hell, Y/n? How could you knowingly put those things in your body? Do you even know what they are? How long has this been happening? How can we get them out?" he questioned, his gaze intent on her.

"Barry forced me into it the first time; I had no choice. I tried to get away from this! He never told me what they were.

He started this 'swallowing product' scheme a month ago. And to answer your last question, I have to throw this shit up to get it out!" she revealed in a hushed tone, her strength failing as she collapsed into his embrace. 

-----

"Y/N! Y/N! Come on, wake up," he pleaded, his voice tinged with urgency, gently shaking her form. "Baby, please, open your eyes." 

Gradually, she blinked her eyes open, her fingers tightening around his shirt.

"Did you just call me 'baby'?" she remarked with a faint smile.

"Ahh, well, yeah, it sort of slipped out," he chuckled, his concern not fully dissipating.

"Be careful, Cameron; you're starting to sound like my boyfriend," she teased, a light laughter escaping her lips, which he joined in.

Rafe guided Y/n to his truck and placed her into the passenger seat. He ran around and jumped in the driver seat and drove off. 

“Rafe I need to make this delivery, otherwise Barry’s going to hurt me.” He said as she rolled her head towards him.

“What do you mean he’s going to hurt you? You guys are friends Y/n.” He said as his gaze diverted from the road to her. 

“We were and than you left. Now its just him and me all alone. He can do what ever we wants with me and he has” She said looking back at him.

Rafe's face registered a mix of shock and anger, his grip on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. "What did he do, Y/N?" His gaze shifted from the road to her, back and forth.

Y/n averted her eyes, her voice subdued. "Exactly what you're thinking, Rafe," she responded, her hair obscuring her face.

She tilted her head back to catch a glimpse of his expression, her own face carrying an air of vulnerability. "Time," she murmured, her words barely audible.

"What?" He reached out to brush her hair away from her face, revealing her flushed complexion. An internal thought passed through his mind - she's running a high fever.

"What... what's the time?" she asked with a frustrated sigh, her voice barely above a whisper.

-------

"It's around 5:45 pm... I'm taking you home, my home," he declared, his hand moving to her thigh, rubbing gentle circles in an attempt to offer comfort.

Upon arriving at Tanny Hill, he hastily exited the car and rushed to open her door, intending to assist her. However, she had already begun making her way toward the house.

Rafe caught up, gently manoeuvring her arm around his shoulders and guiding her indoors and up to his room. Rafe gently lowered her to the foot of the bed and then left to fetch a glass of water. When he returned, he found Y/n attempting to induce vomiting by inserting her fingers down her throat.

"Oh no, Y/n, that's risky! You might end up biting your fingers off doing it like that!" he exclaimed, swiftly reaching to grasp her wrist.

"This is how I usually do it, Rafe," she replied, leaning into him for support. Rafe responded by encircling his arm around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. His hand moved to cradle her face, noting the feverish heat.

"I need to cool you down; your body temperature is rising, and that's not good considering what you have in you," he noted, gesturing toward her stomach.

Standing up, he assisted her to her feet, guiding them both to his ensuite and leaning her against the counter. He turned on the shower and then glanced back at her. "Do you need help?" he inquired. 

She gazes at him, conveying her assent through a nod. His hand reaches for the edge of her top, lifting it over her head and depositing it in the laundry basket beside her.

Her purple bra remains, as he moves on to unfastening her denim shorts. His actions are gentle, releasing the fly as she steadies herself by placing her hands on his shoulders. 

As he eases her shorts downward, she gracefully steps out of them. Unable to resist, he admires her toned figure, his attention caught as he turns her to face the mirror.

She catches him staring at her, her smirk evident as she playfully pushes her backside outward. "Liking what you see?" she teases slightly exhausted, her words accompanied by a slight sway of her hips.

With a subtle nod, he licks his lips. Quickly removing his own shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers, he follows her into the shower.

As the cold water cascades over her, she releases a relieved breath, steadying herself by placing her hand against the wall. "It's time, Y/n," he says, his touch on her shoulder coaxing her to turn and face him.

"How many are there?"

"Twenty," she responds, her gaze steady as she reaches to grasp his forearm.

"Twenty, fuck!" he exclaims, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Are you ready?" he asks, extending two of her fingers toward her.

-------

"Not really," she admits, her gaze meeting his eyes through her lashes. His understanding nod mirrors her sentiment. Raising her fingers, he prompts her to open her mouth.

Gently, he guides her fingers in, pushing them back past her tongue and further down. The sensation presses her back against the wall, her other hand seeking support as she clings to his bicep.

A gag reflex emerges, and she manages to bring up six sachets, placing them on the counter. Then another seven, three, and another two. Y/n lowers herself to all fours, needing a moment's rest before the next round.

"Only three more, Y/n," Rafe assures as he lifts her back onto her knees.

"I can't... I can't do it," her voice trembles as her eyes well up. "I... I can't do it again, Rafe." Her gaze meets his, vulnerability in her eyes. "I can't. Please, just let me die. If I survive this, Barry's just going to ruin me. I'll wish I was dead."

Rafe lowers himself to her level, cupping her face gently. "Hey, Y/n, look at me. I am not going to stand here and watch you give up on yourself. You only have three left, and you're going to survive, okay? And don't worry about Barry…..I’ll keep you safe, even if that means you stay here with me.” His soothing words resonate as they lock eyes. 

"I will always protect you because... because I LOVE YOU, Y/N Y/L/N. I'm so sorry for leaving you behind, I'll never let anyone hurt you again." A tear escapes his eye. 

"So please, tell me you can do this because I'm not ready for you to die yet." His forehead touches hers.

Y/n clutches his wrists, her voice trembling. "I don't want to give up, Rafe. It's just that I feel like I’m dying and... I just….I can't put my fingers down again." She lets go of his wrists, resting her hands on his knees as she looks down.

"It's okay, I'll help you," he reassures, guiding her chin back up. "Open up." Placing his two fingers in her mouth, he pushes gently, her head tilting back to give him easier access. She grabs his hand and pushes him further in. As he brushes against the back of her throat, three sachets surface. 

"You did it baby, No more," he says as they gather the remaining sachets. Nonetheless, when he retrieves the final item, he becomes aware that the bag contains a tear, resulting in some of the product ending up on his fingers and still inside her.

"FUCK!" he shouts, his gaze returning to Y/n, who now rests her head on the ground, trembling. He grabs soap from the sink and comes behind her, lifting her and placing her against him.

"I'm really sorry, baby. One of the bags broke, and there's still half inside you. You need to swallow this soap so the rest will come up, okay?" He explains, receiving a weak nod.

Gently, his hand guides her head back to rest in the crook of this neck. Using his fingers, he props open her mouth and pours the soap down her throat.

The taste is awful, and she attempts to shut her mouth to prevent the taste of soap, but her efforts are in vain since he instructs her to try to keep her mouth open.

When the bottle is empty, he places it down and moves her hair out of her face. He inserts his fingers down her throat once more. Y/n chokes a few times on his finger before expelling clear chunks of the product mixed with the purple citrus soap.

When she's done, Rafe cleans her up and retrieves a towel from beneath the sink. Y/n grabs on his hand and guides his face to look at hers. “I LOVE YOU TOO RAFE CAMERON!” She smiles and wraps her arms around his toned body. 

Rafe carries her out to his bed and places her on the edge. “I’ll be back in a sec.” he mentions while heading towards the door, intending to fetch some clothes from Sarah's room for her.

"These should fit,” he remarks upon re-entering his room, placing a set of cozy attire beside her. "Sarah's clothing choices aren't particularly extensive, but I believed these suited your style," he comments before stepping back a couple of paces.

“Thanks Rafe,” she replied smiling back up at him. 

"I'll give you some privacy to change," Rafe says, heading back into the ensuite to retrieve the medication. 

Y/n sets aside the towel and changes into the comfortable attire he had picked out.

Tucking her damp undergarments within the towel, she moves towards the laundry basket, but her action is halted by her phone vibrating on the side table.

Her phone screen flashes with Barry's incoming call, prompting her to shout for Rafe. He hurries back to her upon hearing her call, and she exclaims that Barry is calling. She proceeds to inform Rafe about the caller's identity while displaying the screen to him.

“Let it go to voicemail” He tells her and she does. She patiently waits as the call is redirected to voicemail:

“Y/N WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?  THIS GUY IS HARASSING ME ABOUT YOU NOT SHOWING!! YOU NEED TO GET BACK HERE NOW! YOUR NOT GOING TO LAST VERY LONG IF YOU DON’T COME BACK!”

Another voicemail pops up….

“IM SERIOUS Y/N, TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE? IF NOT YOU KNOW I’LL FIND YOU AND MAKE YOU PAY!” 

Y/n gazes at Rafe, her eyes wide with fear. He expresses his rage by rubbing his eyes and surprisingly advises her, catching her off guard: “You need to call him back.”

“What, no!” She responded. Shaking her head

“I know I know you don’t want to but he’s not going to stop calling.” He consoles her by placing his hands on her shoulders.

Her voice quivering due to her rapid speech, she responds, “I don’t know about this Rafe? What am I supposed to say?” She maintains direct eye contact with him while speaking.

“I’ll tell you what to say baby, you just have to place it on speaker so I can hear what he’s saying!…………..Yeah!” He replies running his hand up her neck, resting it just under her ear.

Hitting Barry’s contact on her phone, she activates the speaker function and situates it on the bed. They position themselves across from one another on the bed.

Y/n starts fidgeting with her fingers and biting her nails. In a reassuring gesture, Rafe raises his hand and gently interlocks his fingers with hers.

After a while, he eventually answers the call...

B: “Y/N WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN? WHY HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED TO ANY OF MY CALLS?” He shouts into the phone.

Rafe whispers into her ear what he wants her to say. 

Y/N: “Your own your Barry…………I don’t work for you anymore!” She responded, waiting for his reaction. 

B: “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT…………YOU BELONG TO ME, I OWN YOU BITCH!” 

Y/N: “No thats just it Barry you don’t own me, you never did I -“ She’s cut off by him interrupting.

B: “DON’T FUCK AROUND Y/L/N, THOSE DRUGS WILL DISSOLVE SOON AND YOU’LL BE DEAD. SO YOU MAY AS WELL TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE AND I’LL COME GET YOU AND YOU CAN FIX THIS  FUCKING DISASTER YOU’VE CREATED!”

Y/N: “NO!” She yelled “I’M OUT…… I NEVER WANT NOTHING MORE TO DO WITH YOU!"!”

B: “YOU NEED ME TO HELP GET THOSE DRUGS OUT Y/N, DON'T KID YOURSELF INTO THINKING YOU CAN."

Y/N: “I ALREADY DID………..AND YOU WON’T RECEIVE A THING!”

From the other side of the line, they can hear a crash and Barry's enraged shout.

B: "YOU WON'T ESCAPE, Y/N, I—"

Y/N: "I ALREADY DID," she asserts with confidence before ending the call.

Placing the phone on the bedside table, she takes a deep breath. Nestling against Rafe's side, she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he inquires.

"I feel like a burden has been lifted off me," she replies. "I'm just so drained."

"Did you mean what you said earlier... about allowing me to stay here with you? Because I've got nowhere else to turn!" she asks.

Rafe shifts to face her, tenderly grasping her hands. "Of course, I meant every word," he says, his eyes conveying reassurance. "I don't want you out of my sight, especially with Barry’s on the hunt for you."

"Thank you," she murmurs, embracing him warmly, her arms encircling his neck, and her fingers gently toying with his hair.

Rafe lead her into and under the covers of his bed, pulling the sheets up and over them. They lie facing each other, their faces mere inches apart. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she closes her eyes.

"I love you," he whispers, his own eyes shutting in kind. Her eyes reopen slowly, and she replies in hushed tones, "I love you too."

Their gazes lock deeply, and she inches a bit closer, echoing her previous motion. Their lips meet in a tender yet passionate kiss that sends shivers through her body. His hand finds her hip, rolling her slightly to align their bodies. 

She licks his lower lip and explores his mouth with her tongue. Her fingers dance over the hem of his shirt, signalling her desire, prompting him to remove it. She trails her fingers along his abdomen, sensually moving against him in a wavy rhythm.

As things escalate, she draws back, a mixture of longing and caution in her eyes. "I really want this to happen, but I want to take things slow," she confesses, her hand resting on his wrist.

He nods, understanding her sentiment. He shifts her, embracing her from behind, his head nestled in the curve of her neck as he envelops her in his arms.

She adjusts her position, gently pressing against his length for comfort. "Please, stop moving,” he laughs  whispering in her ear.

"Sorry," she responds with laughter in her tone, ceasing her movements.

"Goodnight, Baby."

"Goodnight, Rafey."

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