#WHY DOES EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SHOW FEEL SO OFF NOW

[rebelssvy]

roommates ✧.*

ushijima x reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: ushi is your roommate and saw your phone with porn on it. creating an interesting relationship with you two. sex, smut, porn

i added twt links bc why not just to make it juicer lol

the worst thing to ever possibly happen, happened. while getting some cereal at one a.m, you had been scrolling on your own personally private twitter account. do you have porn on there? yes. do you actually watch it? yes. did you mean to leave it open on the counter top? no. not at all.

so to your horror as you ran to the pantry for some more cereal, you came back to the kitchen to find your your roomate, ushijima, standing right above your phone.

the action of him ease dropping isn’t what got you, he often snoops around your shared apartment. it was the audio you heard coming from it that made you jump out of your skin.

in the dead quiet of your dimly litted apartment, the audio of a girl getting absolutely railed by a man echoed.

“oh my god!” you scrambled, running over to your phone you shut it off. then threw it across the room it landing on the couch.

your hands instantly found your face, everything was burning up. ushi was normally a kind of awkward guy. not ever really saying much and when he did, it was always just kind of awkward.

did this stop you from having a crush on him? of course not. how could it? he was fucking huge. his muscles could make you pop from a hug. and he was also caring. even if he stuggled showing it. so you had no idea how he was about to handle this.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed y/n.” his voice prodded through the silence. it was deep, hushed. it wasn’t until a hand found your back that you looked up to him.

“i’m so so so sorry ushi!” you said turning to face him, putting your hands on his chest and burrying your head into his pecks. being touchy with him wasn’t abnormal. he just never really reciprocated it. that didn’t bother you.

“i’m… i’m just gonna go to bed.” you said before leaving your cereal on the counter, grabbing your phone and walking away.

that night you slept in horror. praying that he wouldn’t move out because of the action.

that night ushijima was more sexually frustrated then he had ever been.

✧.*

the next day when you two were at dinner, he brought up the situation from last night.

“god.. you don’t have to try to make me feel better. just forget about it.” you stood shaking your head. you two were out at a random restaurant about to leave when he asked you about it. you really wished he could just forget.

“you know y/n.. everyone watches porn.” he said it casually. tone unwavering. your eyes darted to his, attempting to read his emotions. to which you were met with a straight face.

the rest of the night you kept thinking about what that meant. does the ushijima wakatoshi watch porn? no way. i mean… there is no way right? in your head he could never be tempted. he’s too idk. perfect.

those words haunted you until you got home. every moment of silence between you lead back to the mental image you created.

finally walking through the door you decided to bring it up with him. you just didn’t know how.

he waked to his bedroom as you made you way to the kitchen for a drink. “hey ushi..?” you called out. he only responded when he walked back in with a changed, more casual outfit.

“yes y/n?” he replied finding a spot on your shared couch. instantly stretching he made himself comfortable as he flexed his biceps ever so subtlety. your eyes wandered to wear his shirt poked up. a flips of his happy trail peaked out. “do you have a question?” he said. your eyes snapped back to his face. you only nodded in reply.

going and sitting down next to him, sitting cris cross legged. as he faced forward his head turned to you. you were close, but not as close as you wished you were. so you opted to scoot closer to him. one of your knees now touching his thigh.

“earlier, i just can’t get it out of my mind… you said yk ‘everyone watches porn.’… and i was just wondering if like.. excuse me if im over stepping here but, if you watched.. porn?” your skin felt hot. like you were burning up. after you said it you wished you could take it back.

there was a long pause, and you swore you died and came back to life. just as you were about to excuse yourself to suffer an eternity of embarrassment, he responded.

“yes i watch porn.”

it was the answer you had longed for. craved and yearned. but now what? you asked him.. now what do you do?

“okay…” you said, hesitant. “i’m sorry. i don’t know what to say i’m so embarrassed oh my g-“ he stopped you mid sentence. cutting you off to say,

“want to see what i watch?” his tone was so casual that he never seemed more comfortable to talk to you. you couldn’t give him a verbal yes, so you shook your head yes instead.

you gasped as he moved his arm closer to you, only to grab his phone your thigh had been covering up. you watched intently, all nerves stood on end as he traveled to his notes app. you watched as he unlocked a hidden folder that revealed several links and notes under them. this was so ushijima. you thought to yourself.

“can i?” you asked while scooting closer to him. he flushed and shook his head yes. you scrolled through tens of links and notes beneath them like, ‘threesome two boys one girl.’ or ‘good creampie.’ it wasn’t out of the ordinary until one really caught your eye. it was a link, then labeled. ‘y/n.’ you gasped reading your name. then he caught on right away. obviously embarrassed he shut his phone off and didn’t say anything.

curiosity struck at your bones. what was that video? what did it have my name on it?

“can i.. can we maybe watch some of them..?” you leaned into him now bringing the phone back up to seversace level and unlocking it. he never said no. he shook his head yes before saying.

“let me explain-“ you cut him off, pressing a finger to his mouth before saying. “we will save that one for last how bout that…” you were now flirting with him. and he could tell. he shook his head yes once again as you scrolled through all the different links.

finally clicking on one you watched it with him side by side. you watched as a boyfriend penetrated his smaller girlfriend with his huge cock. you felt ushijima squirm next to you, obviously uncomfortable.

“fuck…” you said without realizing. your head whipped to his but he was already looking at you. and god.. he was so handsome. his lips parted slightly, glossed from his own saliva

“can i please kiss you?” he asked while dropping his hand and now holding your face. before giving him an answer you brought your face to his with passion. kissing him so intently. your lips molded around each others. it was hot. it was almost too much to handle. a line of saliva connected the two of you as you parted.

you picked up his phone and went back to scrolling. this time his hands were all over you, touching every part of your body. brushing over it of pinching at it, he needed to feel you.

you moaned as he brought his head to your neck and slurped at all your open skin. you watched videos that he had saved, making mental notes about how the women in them are. or what he was into like, two lovers forced to be quiet or how the girl in the video spread herself open to get finger fucked.

finally you made your way to the video with your name on it. ushijima had now brought his eyes back to you, nervous of what was about to happen. in silence you clicked on it. just to find a video of a girl with your body type and look getting absolutely pounded.

“i’ve never been fucked like that before…” you admitted, breaking the silence. you looked over to him. dropping the phone now.

“fuck y/n… i’m trying really hard right now to be a gentleman but your making it hard.” he dropped his head back before bringing a hand to his hair and messing with it.

“fuck that! just fuck me please oh my god!” you squealed out, shocked that you even said it. you smacked a hand over your mouth. but it was too late. ushijima had already taken you into his arms. carrying you into his room.

“i haven’t..” he started while throwing his clothes off, and undoing yours next, “been able to get you out of my mind. i need you so bad” he admitted now laying you down on the bed.

it was all happening too quickly. and yet his pace was awfully slow for you. fully naked you stared at him. he stared back at you.

finally his fingers trailed your asshole before finding your cunt. it was soaked already, ushijima was seeing stars. “fuck your so wet..” he groaned. “can i?” he asked for your consent.

“yes! ushi~just fuck me!” you moaned as his hand cupped your soft little cunt. he stood above you, spread your legs open and pressed his middle finger into your tight little hole. taking it out to draw circles on your clit. your back arched at all of his motions. you squirmed under his touch.

“god your so fucking tight. so fucking pretty.��� he groaned before putting another finger into you. pumping it in and out of you at reckless pace.

“need more… i need your cock ushi..!” you moaned out grabbing at his length. you jerked him off a couple strokes before he pulled his fingers out of you and pushed them in your mouth.

you sucked your own juices off his digits. and oh my god, ushijima had never felt hotter. he felt like he was on fire.

now on the bed with you he threw your body around into a doggy position. your ass in the air. he waited seconds just looking at you before he positioned his cock near your hole.

as his fat tip sank its way further into your sobbing cunt, the more your pussy sucked him in. half way in and he thought he was going to cum. he pushed the feeling deep down into his soul. he needed to fuck you first.

“ushijimaaa~ fuck! ah-! your so fucking bi-i-g!” and with that moan of his name, he swore he heard wedding bells.

a new fuel fired his engine, as he pounded your wet cunt from behind. your arched your back further. the sensation was too much for you. the feeling of you stretching out around his fat cock. you could feel him everywhere.

your cream gathered at the base of his cock, it made his mind go hazy. pushing your farther into the bed, he rested more of his weight on you. slamming his cock in and out of you. your noises filled the room. the way you clenched around home you knew you were close.

“fuck you like that? cmon y/n.. cum around my fucking cock.” his words sent you over the edge. shaking and spasming beneath him you cursed out moans. saying ‘fuck ushi-! god i fucking love your dick ohmygod’ it wasn’t until his pace slowed slightly that you realized that he wasn’t stopping.

“i’ve been waiting to fuck uou for months baby. cmon gimmie a nother one cmon…” you watched all his composer slip away as he pounded your overstimulated body. flipping you on your front you got pounded face to face with him. his eyebrows furrowed. he was such a sight.

you felt your second orgasm approaching. he reached down to circle your creamy clit. as soon as he touched it pleasure ripped through you. your body lurching forward. you shook with the feeling.

“imcummingfu-c! god ushi~ your cock oh my god. fuck your so fucking good ah-!” you moaned, almost screaming him praise. he came on the spot. his cock filling you up with his seed. you felt him everywhere.

“god your so perfect. oh my god fuck y/n.” he said through grunts and groans. finally he fell next to you. kissing your sweaty body.

getting cereal at one am was the best thing you’ve ever done.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

i missed writing about him so u know i had to do it

[colossrat]

Billy likes to be independent, he is a little homeless boy who fights life tooth and nail. He always needs to be strong to show society that he doesn't need, much less want, an adult in his life sending him here and there.

But he doesn't need to fight to prove himself strong when he already looks strong. Billy can't ask for help as Billy because that will bring trouble or an adult trying to dad him

But Cap? he can let himself be vulnerable as Cap, even if he doesn't need help, he can ask for it. Marvel will just be a friend in need of help and no one will treat him like a helpless child for that

So, after a good few months, if not years, of becoming friends with his league colleagues, the captain starts to show how he loves having people around him for little things.

he wants to open a jar from the kitchen. He has the strength to go head to head with Superman, but he would never miss the opportunity to ask Superman himself to do it for him. Clark always gets a little confused, because the pot isn't that tight, or tight at all, but he always helps because he sees how it brings a genuine and happy smile to his colleague.

Does he need a snack? He will ask Flash to prepare something for him, saying that the food he makes is the best and with the best flavor.

captain has a problem with magic, he is completely capable of solving it himself, but he will knock on zatanna's door to ask for advice, potions, a protection spell and even a good luck hug if he feels she wouldn't refuse

There's a new movie, he doesn't even want to see it that much, but he's going to ask Cyborg if he can make the movie show in the watchtower break room because he finds the control and streaming platforms confusing

He will ask Batman silly questions, or even prepare complex questions with Solomon's help so he can ask and listen for hours while the bat explains things to him. Not that he didn't already know the answers or couldn't find them in the rock's library of infinite knowledge. but he likes to have someone talking and explaining things to him with so much patience, teaching and even being happy to have someone to listen to his knowledge

Are they going on a water mission? He will ask Aquaman for tips on how to swim faster or more efficiently

Is he having a slower day? Why not ask the Martian Hunter to accompany him to a cat cafe? Ask what are the best sweets or brands of cookies? ask for help to bake a cake or taste the frosting, a brigadeiro

He's having problems with his communicator, better go see Red Tornado if he has tips on how to use it without confusing the private lines again, or ask if he has some free time to go for a fly through some storms. He makes hurricanes, he must like storms just like him, right?

There is a dangerous magical temple sending dangerous magical frequencies, he can destroy it alone, but he asks the hawkwoman for help to put everything down with her mace

there's a cockroach in the watchtower… better ask dr.fate for help to kill it

A LADYBUG ON THE WATCHTOWER?! Call the jl green lanterns asap so they can conjure up a green safe pot to transport her back to earth!!

Did he fall? He wasn't even hurt, but he's going to ask Diana to check if he doesn't have a bump on his head. Diana understands where her little brother's requests come from, and she never unmasks him, she just takes the opportunity to make her little brother happy without feeling bad about asking for help.

Now, a hero approaches little Billy with a piece of food? oh. he will bite off your fingers and throw the food back in your face (not really because that would be wasteful, but he would return the food and tell you to eat it yourself, that he would get food for himself on his own)

He can be feral, try to teach him a life lesson and he will teach YOU a life lesson.

His shoelaces are untied and he just stuck them inside his shoe? you leave his shoelace inside the shoe. If a hero, be it the Man Of Steel himself, bends down to tie his shoelaces, OH MY, he'll kick you in the face and scream that you're not supposed to touch his stuff

Unless that you are also a child or mr tawny, then he maybe either accept your help or gently refuse

[arcane-ish]

I love Silco, but can we talk about how he's totally a snitch?

I find that very interesting since season 2 drew attention again to Vander's "we don't hand over our own" line.

versus

I'm personally still convinced that when Silco had his meeting with Marcus in episode 2 he told him that Vander's kid were to blame for the Topside job. Which leads directly to the raid on the Last Drop.

Evidence? Silco's meeting scene with Marcus ends like this.

We go directly into the raid and Marcus even references the conversation that he imo had with Silco.

IMO he wanted Vander to get raided and be put in a pickle. Maybe see how Vander would react.

Of course I think Silco thought there was some fight in Vander left and that Vander would find some way to keep his kids from being taken. But if Vander really was as much of a lapdog as Silco claims it would have led to 4 actually rebellious childern being taken to Stilwater just so Silco can have his little test or just so Silco can enjoy making Vander suffer. (again I like to think Silco at this point was already dreaming of things escalating in some way and Vander being forced to do something radical)

It happens again in Act 2. In Act 1 when Vander's daughter was the cause for a Topside bombing he said the line about not handing over one of their own. When Silco's daughter is at fault for a Topside crime, he has zero problems fingering fellow Zaunites, including planting fake evidence. Worked with enforcers to pin the blame on other Zaunites he does not like.

Remember that line from Ekko to Caitlyn about how the enforcers hunt them (presumably the Firelights) like animals?

It just sometimes feels like people forget that Silco talks about doing everything that absolutely includes throwing his own people to the wolves if it makes strategic sense for him. And I think that's why some people think that there's a hypocrisy there, since his big accusation against Vander was that Vander worked with enforcers. When Silco never was above working with enforcers. So his rule is not "never work with enforcers" but "work with enforcers just secretly don't mean it" or you can do acts that are bad for Zaunites and good for the enforcers as long as you look down on the enforcers while doing it"?

(sidenote: there was this one older writer interview where they discussed Sevika on the council versus Ekko. And Christian said a line about Sevika not liking Silco's methods and I remember turning the video off at this point with a big "do you even watch your own show" feeling? Or a "Is this another writers versus animators thing?" Like you have Sevika the person who clearly viscerally enjoys fighting and violence and you really expect me to believe that she had moral qualms about Silco's methods?

But now I wonder if there's a chance he meants something like that (ie shifting the blame for Jinx's crimes on other Zaunites). Sevika is not present for that meeting between Silco and Marcus about the Firelights, so we don't know her opinion on it I think.

For the record, I don't think it would be that weird characterizationwise if there were things Sevika did under Silco that she began to wonder about/didn't like as much in retrospect and that's why in season 2 we see her sort of experimenting with some elements of Vander's approach)

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Ka-ching.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “thanos with a rich reader?” -anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English

Oh, he’s so gonna use your money to his advantage. You freed him from his debts and are constantly paying him stuff, so he believes himself untouchable now.

You’re always spending money on him and he’s absolutely smug about it. A bit like a sugar baby but with feelings involved.

Don’t worry, he too spends your money as well.

Buying new high fashion clothes, special edition shoes, expensive rings. Sometimes he uses your own money to buy you stuff.

It’s the thought that counts, right ?

His clothes are really bright and colorful, with a few occasional darker ones, for you it’s the opposite. You own a lot of suits that are generally quite basic and dark but the colored and original looking ones come from him.

One day, you were staring at one of his bright orange t-shirts. It made you think of those fluorescent safety vests.

“Are you afraid to not be seen at night ?” You suddenly asked.

“Huh ?”

“It’s so bright I can’t look at it.” You continued, closing your eyes with a dramatic grimace. He scoffed, taking the shirt from your hands to put it on.

“Everyone’s in dark clothes.” He replied. “I want all eyes on me.”

You nodded, watching him put some cargo shorts on.

“You make me think of, uh, birds.” You smiled, trying not to laugh.

“Huh ? Birds ? Pigeons ?”

“When did I say pigeons ? Are pigeons the only birds ?” You sighed. “Birds try to mate by displaying their colorful plumage. Courting.”

He looked at you weirdly, thinking.

“Why the fuck are they attracted to colors ?” He asked, sitting on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Bright colors show their good health and that they’re genetically advanced. There’s more but I doubt you care that much.”

“You’d be a boring looking bird.” He said as you flopped next to him on the bed.

“Ah, you hurt my feelings, man.” You threw your hand in the hair, hitting his shoulder before letting it glide down his back. “You’ll learn that there’s no boring looking birds. Even pigeons. You’d be a pink-necked green one.”

He scoffed, standing up.

“Search it up ! It’s not as flashy as you but it’s still really pretty.” You said, resting on your elbows.

“You think I’m pretty ?” He asked with fake shock. “Homo.”

You snorted.

“No. Ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, get out of my house. I'm gonna scream.” You replied, throwing a pillow at him, hitting the back of his head as he laughed before exiting the room while flipping you off.

Later he sent you a text saying pink necked green pigeons were actually decent looking.

He says he doesn’t like asking for money yet he’s spending every won you give him.

He’s like this especially after his rap career flopped. He worked his ass off to succeed, made some money off of it and suddenly everything went to shit.

But now that he has your money, he can make a big comeback and shock everyone back to their places.

He’s trying to find a label that would want to work with him while making an album, already planning which song would have a music video and what’s gonna be in it. It’s far from cheap. Though it’s all just ideas for now as he hasn’t finished writing even half of it.

You had to put some limits to his spending habits. Because as much as you loved him, he was spending way too much like a teenager with zero perception of the cost of things and life in general.

Either you help him with his album but no more expensive clothes, shoes, cosmetics.

Or he can buy whatever he wants but does his album on his own.

He whined about it a lot, but chose you to help him with his album in the end.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t do both.” He sulked as you rubbed his back.

“Do you think I’m Jay Y. Lee ? Or maybe you miss your debts that badly ?”

“Of course not ! But I’m not spending that much !” He scoffed, rolling his eyes like a child.

You chuckled, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Maybe you should use your money to pay for all the things you buy in a month. What do you think ?”

“Huh ?” He stared at you, caught off guard. “No way ! Come on !”

“I don’t know. I like that idea.” You said with a shrug standing up and walking away. Thanos quickly followed you.

“Hey, let’s not be hasty.” He grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them. “You’re still gonna help me with my album, right ?” He leaned closer with a smile, wrapping his arms around you.

“Ah, should I ? I don’t know…”

“You told me you would !” He said as he slapped your shoulder, making you chuckle. That fucking brat.

“I’m fucking with you, of course I will. Just no other expenses.” You smiled, turning to face him.

He sighed, throwing his head back in frustration with a groan.

“Okay, fine. But you promise you’ll help me ?”

Your hands gently went to his face, pulling it closer as you caressed his cheeks before kissing his forehead.

“Of course. Pinky promise or whatever.”

He absolutely loves your house. It’s big and spacious and it’s equipped with recent gadgets. A fully equipped kitchen that looks like you never used it. You actually use it, well, not you but your cook does. And the food is always delicious.

The bed is definitely bigger than his. He still hogs all the blankets and most of the place.

He refuses to sleep on the sides, preferring to be in the middle because he fears he’s gonna fall. So if he goes to bed before you you’ll have to push him a bit especially if you like sleeping in the middle as well.

You let out a long sigh as you watch him sprawled on your bed, arms and legs open wide with the blanket wrapped around his body.

“Subong. Move.” You said, pushing him to wake him up. He hummed before replying.

“…no.”

He hissed as you placed your cold hand on his naked back, successfully making him move away from the middle.

You quickly laid down, pulling on the blanket wrapped around him.

“What are you doiiing ?” He asked with a groan, stretching, bones cracking.

“What do you think ? Going into my bed to sleep.”

He just hummed, not caring anymore about what you just said as he went back to sleep.

Just like you he’s not really patient if you go to bed first and sleep in the middle.

He scoffs as he climbs into bed and pushes you away from the center. You fight back, yawning half asleep as you try to not lose your territory.

“Fucking bastard, move !”

“Nooo. Fuck off !” You replied with a tired voice, wrapping your arms around him to trap him.

He tries to fight it but ends up giving up, falling asleep on top of you with a frown.

That scowl never really disappears even as he’s long gone, drooling on you.

You categorically refuse to let him drive your car. He has extreme road rage and drives with way too much confidence to be safe on the roads. And with how much your car had cost you, there was no way you could risk it.

Do not believe Thanos only loves you for your money. He definitely appreciates that part about you, don’t get it twisted. But he also really likes just spending time with you.

If you have free time, he’ll take you to the made-up studio in your house so you can stay with him. Sometimes he’ll record you making weird noises to put in the background of his songs or he’ll ask you to give him a beat.

He spends a lot of time there and as interesting as it is, it gets boring for you after some time. Hearing the same part over and over, random instruments, erasing it, making the same one but slightly different, going to another part, repeating it over and over. And so on.

If there’s a concert or show he can do, and the opportunity is rare now, he’ll invite you backstage even if he’s not allowed to.

He’ll just piss people off until they accept. You told him to stop because they’ll probably won’t ask to come back again if he’s too annoying. But he doesn’t care, you have to be here.

There’s a mental note in his brain to repay you completely once he's a well known and loved rapper. For now he’s just stuck dreaming.

But with a little bit more patience and your help, he can definitely make it and even make people forget about the lyrics troubles he had.

[berryispunk]

What I Didn't Say

pairing: Frankie Morales x gn! reader

tags: mention of mental health struggles, depression, inner turmoil, comfort, fluff, Frankie being the best boyfriend ever, soft! Frankie

notes: This was written mostly for myself but if even one person finds comfort in this too, my job is done. unbeta'd

word count: 1,9 k

It is a regular Tuesday. Same process at work. The same dumb questions, the same people. But something is off, something inside of you. Something buried so deep you almost forgot yourself it was there. But it crawled onto the surface slowly and gradually over the last days, tinting everything darker, muting the colors around you. 

The signs were there for a while now, building up one by one. You should have known better, but you decided to ignore them all instead.

Throwing yourself into work, listening to music on your earphones constantly, never a minute alone with your own thoughts, too afraid of what they might reveal.  

It makes you feel heavy, slowed down and every day feels endless. 

Tasks you’re usually able to solve in minutes dragged on for hours. 

You feel numb, dissociated and irritated and after a while you weren’t able to lie to yourself anymore. 

Your unpleasant visitor inside your mind unpacked its baggage once again, making himself comfortable in your brain and wouldn’t check out any time soon.

When it is finally time to go home after work you feel particularly drained and still the thought of returning home into your tiny apartment, which mirrored your inner mess perfectly at the moment, makes you feel even more uneasy.

So you drive around the city for a while with no real destination in mind. 

Your window pulled down, the cool evening air a welcoming distraction of your whirlwind of thoughts. Your mind wandering around, not able to form one clear thought, too many voices but still you feel utterly alone. 

As alone as ever. Isolated even if you’re not. You have friends, colleagues, a loving boyfriend but you feel miles apart from all of them. Nobody is able to understand your pain and you are too tired to explain. It’s not that you didn’t think about opening up to someone, you did. But how can you explain this big sadness inside of you when you don’t know how to put it into words?

After a while your bluetooth speakerphone ringing brings you back into the present and without even knowing, or caring, who’s on the other end of the line you pick up. 

“Hello ?”

“Hey, beautiful” the voice on the other end is rich and warm, making you smile for the first time today. It was your boyfriend Frankie. 

“Hey… sorry I didn’t call you earlier,I-uh…was busy” you try to lie, masking your inner turmoil. But he does know you better or at least he knows something is off.

“You’re not at home, are you?” he asks, a hint of doubt in his tone.

“No, I'm still driving. Why?”

There’s a deep rumbling laugh on the other end.

“Well, I am in front of your apartment door and nobody’s opening, so safe to say no one’s home…”

Your first instinct is to ask why the hell he’s standing at your apartment door without telling you first, but then you remembered that’s just who Frankie is. He always let actions speak louder than words. Showing up when you least expect it is just one part of the Morales package. He’s a rare gem in the world of macho-dickheads. Sometimes you still wonder what he sees in you out of all people he possibly could’ve be with ? But you count your blessings every day. 

“I’ll come home now. Give me about…” you glance at the digital clock in your car dashboard “15 minutes” you add and he hums in agreement before you hang up. 

Honestly you’re not really in the mood for small talk or any other form of human interactions in general, but you’ve been avoiding Frankie for a few days now. Mostly for selfish reasons but also because you don’t want to drag him down into your abyss so you decide to dive in head first.

15 minutes later on the dot you kill the motor in front of your apartment complex, making your way up to the third floor with heavy steps. 

You can’t shake the tiredness off, it still lingers even when your heart flutters in your chest as soon as you spot Frankie leaning against the wall next to your front door. 

His signature cap worn deep, his arms crossed over his chest, making him look as broad as ever and whistling some melody to himself. 

The moment he spots you his whole face lights up, his eyes crinkling and his face so full of genuine joy by just seeing you it makes you feel incredibly guilty for not wanting to see him just seconds ago. 

He steps towards you, his smile only widening and making your stomach do somersaults.  

He wraps his arms around your waist and dips his head to kiss your cheek, the visor of his cap touching your temple. 

“Sorry you had to wait for so long… I–” you contemplate telling him the whole truth, but decide against it, not wanting to drag his mood down too. 

“Work was a lot”, you lie again and he just shakes his head. 

“‘s alright, I don’t mind. I mean, I could’ve at least texted you beforehand, but where’s the surprise in that?” he laughs as you fumble with your keys to let you both inside. 

It just dawned on you that your place isn’t particularly tidy right now and you feel heat creeping up at your cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Sorry.. didn’t have time to tidy up. I know it’s a mess…” you sigh as you let your bag slump  to the ground and kick off your shoes, trying hard to not let him feel how disappointed you are about yourself, but Frankie doesn’t say a thing. 

He just kicks off his shoes as well and places the plastic back he was holding onto the kitchen counter. 

“I brought some Chinese take-out” he says, making it sound like the most obvious thing to do when in reality it is not. You’re not used to this kind of attention and it makes you feel all kinds of emotions. Mostly good of course, but it also makes you question if you’re able to give him the same amount back or if you’re losing in the partner department, especially the last few weeks.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, the words coming out quicker than your mind has time to process it.

“Do what?”

“This” you point onto the bag of food he’s just about to unpack and he stills his movement.

“I thought you like chinese…” he says, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I do, it’s just.. you could’ve texted first,you know” you say irritated, regretting your harsh voice immediately as you see his shoulders sag slightly.

“I am sorry, it’s just–” he trails off, rubbing his neck sheepishly. 

“I had the feeling something was off and you’re kinda short and snippy the last few days. I just wanted to check on you and… “ a short breath “I’m sorry if I overstepped or anything I’m just, argh, i don’t know… worried?”

His rumbling leaves you speechless for a moment. Too much to unpack for your depressed mind. You slump onto the stool next to your kitchen counter, running a hand through your hair. You should’ve known he notices your change, he’s a really attentive person after all.

“I am sorry, Frankie” you simply say and you mean it but the words have greater meaning than just an apology for your behavior.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” he assures you and it doesn’t ease your mind in the slightest instead it makes you feel even worse. 

You don’t know how to bring this up because you’re not good at communicating your feelings, you never learned how. So you say nothing in return and the silence is deafening. 

You feel his big hands gently caressing your arms and it almost causes you to sob, the gentleness of his touch unlike everything else. 

“Please, talk to me” he pleads, his soft brown eyes searching yours and you can’t stand it any longer so you rise up from your seat and wrap your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his chest. 

“I’m not good at this, Frankie… I wish I would be but I am not. I am a mess, simple as that” you mumble against his shirt, your voice muffled by the fabric. 

He stays silent for a moment, his hand crawling the back of your head before he murmurs against your hair “It’s okay… you don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to. I am here, even if you don’t wanna talk at all that’s also fine with me” 

The tears prick hot in corners of your eyes, his voice like a balm for your troubled mind but it doesn’t stop your inner world from colliding. He should run as long as he has the chance, find someone better that isn’t as broken and as complicated as you are. The next words start to bubble up before you have the chance to stop them.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away the last few weeks, it’s just my default response, you know. Didn’t want to burden you with my shit.”

“You don’t burden me with this, lemme’ carry some of that weight with you, okay?” he reasons softly with you, his hand still cradling the back of your head gently, placing a soft kiss on the top of your hair. 

“I don’t know how.. everytime I tried to share my darkness with someone, they left. I’m scared to lose you too, because you–” the following words are chocked “You are the best thing I ever had and I really don’t wanna fuck this up” you admit. 

“You won’t lose me just because you have some demons to face, beautiful. We all have, believe me I do too. It’s getting easier once you’re able to talk about it, I promise. I am here to stay, okay?” he lifts your head gently from his chest, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones and the honesty of his words written all over his face. 

You nod as he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment on your skin. 

“Let me in, okay? That’s all I ask. We figure the rest out as we go…” 

“Okay” you ultimately answer, your voice strained with barely contained emotions. 

“But don’t say I didn’t warn you, yeah?” 

“I served in the army. Nothing scares me off that easily anymore, trust me” he chuckles deeply before he lets go of your head to get some silverware. “Let’s eat something okay? And afterwards we can watch some movie you like.” 

“Even a cheesy romance movie?” you retort with a smirk as you take a seat on the kitchen stool once again. 

“Even a cheesy, cringey romance movie if that lifts your spirits, but you have to at least let me make some comments…” he grins as he places some fried chicken and noodles on your plate first like it’s the most natural thing to do. Which for him it might be. 

“Deal” you say as you start munching on some of the food, watching him putting some Chinese food on his own plate. “Thank you” you murmur and words aren’t enough to express the extend of your gratitude.

“It’s nothing” he shrugs off while taking a seat next to you. 

“Wrong, it’s everything”, you correct and he holds your gaze for a long moment before he smiles warmly and starts eating.

And for the first time in a while you feel like maybe happiness is in reach again. 

[raccoonconnoisseur]

My theory about a potential Helena pregnancy subplot in Severance S2, why I don’t think she would have planned it, and what it could mean for the characters:

Okay so a lot of people are theorising that Helena could be pregnant after the tent scene in S2E4 and that her entire reason for going down to the severed floor was to get pregnant because she’s an only child and single and she’ll be expected to produce the next Eagan heir.

With the theme of pregnancy throughout the show and all of the baby imagery in the title sequence I think she could be pregnant but I feel like if she is it wasn’t intentional. Here’s why:

It’s obviously entirely possible for somebody to get pregnant after having sex just once but the chances of it happening is pretty small (from what I could find online it appears to be about a 25% chance each month if you’re having REGULAR unprotected sex around the time of ovulation - thank you Huggies website - so it’s even lower if it happens just once). Lumon and the Eagans are meticulous - there’s no way they would send her off to sleep with somebody in the woods just once and cross their fingers she would end up pregnant (it would also just kind of be lazy writing/way too convenient)- they would have a whole ass operation going so it would happen regularly until she conceives.

I think they sent Helena down instead of Helly not because she wanted a baby but just because they couldn’t trust Helly R - they knew she’d tell MDR the truth and it could spoil everything. She already hated herself and tried to end her life before she knew she was an Eagan and it would only triple that hatred now she knows who she really is. On top of that MDR had been working fine before she joined, then within a couple of weeks of her arrival, the team is going rogue trying to do the OTC? She was too dangerous to let back down there - they knew Mark would demand Helly back but Helly is feisty and will not budge from her goals of fucking shit up.

So Helena was to go down to the severed floor instead and impersonate Helly (which would also allow her to spy on them and what they’re up to while still tricking them into thinking they had more freedom - remember one of the first things she does is point out the missing cameras). But then she found out about Mark and Helly with the security footage and Helena - who has been raised in a cult-like corporate hellscape, who was manipulated and moulded from birth to be the perfect future heir and was never allowed to be herself - was genuinely jealous/intrigued because this version of her who she doesn’t even see as a real person, who just existed for a publicity stunt, has built more genuine relationships in just a few short weeks than Helena has in 30 years. She went down as a mole and genuinely came out preferring who she was down there. I think she was genuine when she told mark in the tent that she didn’t like who she was on the outside - it was a rare moment of her letting the act down he just didn’t know it.

So how does this link back to pregnancy and babies? Well as mentioned, the title sequence is full of babies and baby imagery. We see a baby Kier emerging from the snow at Mark’s feet at the end of the title sequence (emerging from the snow where it was maybe conceived?) Baby Kier - a baby Eagan. While I don’t think it was intentional on Helena’s part, I think she could end up pregnant and it could be a massive turning point for both Helly and Helena.

We know Mark and Helena meet up again outside (the diner scene in the trailer). Now he’s reintegrated he knows who she is both inside and out. So their outies (or outie Helena and reintegrated Mark I guess) must end up having some kind of character arc. I’m wondering if he’ll confront her about why she pretended to be Helly and ends up getting dragged into the whole situation now he knows a child is on the line. Half of him still wants Gemma (who I think it truly dead but that’s a matter for another time) but the other half of him genuinely wants Helly and - because of the way reintegration messes with your time perception as Petey explained back in S1) they are equally as strong feelings.

So for the even more out-there, very unlikely way I could potentially see this going: I’m wondering if it’s possible Helena deciding she doesn’t want her child to be exposed to the same cult-ish, toxic upbringing she experienced - wanting her child to be given a good life, the chance to be their own person and not just a pawn for a corporate entity - and so she chooses to help the innies out and expose the company in a parallel to how Helly R did at the end of S1 - this time it really is Helena speaking. In a way (although she was still a terrible person and did some really awful things) she finally does something good and proves she isn’t just a one-note evil stereotype. Then I could see her potentially deciding to either reintegrate (I think less likely) or permanently sever herself (more likely) because she prefers the person she is when severed than in the real world - essentially killing Helena Eagan and the Eagan lineage for good and instead giving the innie - who she didn’t even see as a real person at first - a life she could never have.

[theadhddimsenion]

Why I want millie and loona to be the "losers" of season three.

We all know that blitz moxxie and stolas have all been through the wringer when it comes to their character development and I think that it would only be fair that as blitz, mox and stole complete their arcs the butt monkey statis moves away from them and onto the girls as they go through their arcs.

I'm not saying I want them reduced to helpless damsels in constant need of rescue but I would like to see them fail a bit more so we can see their more fallible sides.

People are already complaining that the i.m.p team need tougher oppents they can't easily beat and that millie and loona are underutilized so I think having them become the "weak links" in the i.m.p as their arcs go on will be fitting.

Like for example we could have millie getting increasingly upset at being left out and her pregnancy starts to throw off her fighting skills.

And we could have loonas lack of field experience cause her to make poor choices and as a result she gets her ass kicked.

Now with all this talk of butt monkey statis I think that contrary to what some might say I don't think moxxie needs anymore lessons for his arc I think he's gone through enough no what he needs is something where he gets to SHOW his development by doing something really cool and/or mature. I actually came up with an idea for a episode where moxxie and loona are stranded in the human world and loona is injured so she has to rely on moxxie for support and unlike in pervious episodes loona is actually the butt of the joke and moxxie is the smart and competent one.

The whole thing is about loona learning that it is ok to put your trust in people and you don't have to judge people based on superficial strength because moxxie has proven that his strength lies not in physical power but in being probably the best strategist i.m.p has the problem being that he is both often over cautious and can't get people to repect and listen to him like blitz can.

So the whole episode is mostly comedy at loonas expense with her constantly being comically injured and humiliated and her failed attempts at doing things herself undermine moxxies actual competence like for example loona tries to get some fresh venison from an overly disney like deer but it turns out to be a huge elk or moose and it's whole herd chases after her trampling moxxies freshly finished cabin. At one point she gets stuck in her feral from and perved on by a pack of feral wolves and is unable to escape until moxxie saves her and after hours of being unable to care for herself loona finaly admits defeat and accepts moxxies help bitterly.

Now right here moxxie has the opportunity to get her back for everything she has said and done to him and never let her live it down but here comes the big mature moment I was talking about. Instead of being petty and rubbing her nose in her failures he does the mature thing and actually starts to relate to her when it comes to his own experiences being the universes chew toy.

If there's one thing moxxie has learned by now it's that trying to make people feel lesser doesn't make you feel greater in the long run. Let's face it moxxie was kind of a negative Nelly when it came to his profession, he was always the first to try and put his boss down even when blitz did nothing to provoke him and we all saw the horror show of unhappy campers. So I feel that moxxie is in ironically a really good place to help loona with that.

Now we can't let moxxie have all the good moments can we? So let's talk about some opportunities to show off character development for my boy blitz.

The first one I had in mind was for him to actually have to try and help veroskia for whatever reason wether it's cause she needed rescue from the dhorks or some other villain, needed help dealing with glitz and glam or even because she discovered she had a half human son and needed parenting advice whatever the case I think it would be cool if just like moxxie can share his life lessons with loona blitz could help her understand that he knows better than anyone the danger of holding onto the past and refusing to forgive yourself better than him.

Another idea is him having a real father daughter moment with loona where she asks him why he hasn't thrown her out even after all she's done to him. And he answers that he loves her and when he saw just how miserable she was in that pound he saw himself and he wanted to be the good parent he never had.

Hell I just thought up a way for stolas to help millie! I mean yes stolas has only just begun his arc but I think he would know the dangers of keeping secrets from people considering how he lost his daughter for that very reason and plus I've heard that owls can tell when other animals are pregnant and for a double bonus blitz can return the favor by helping millie by pointing out that there was no way someone like moxxie would ever hate her for her desicon regarding the child I mean it's moxxie we are talking about here.

In short the point I am trying to make here is that this show often uses physical and emotional suffering as a way of bringing out character development and I think it's only fair that the female cast members get that treatment.

[dervampireprince]

i feel like how i think about and characterise lucifer in sexual scenarios it so different from most of the fandom. and that's okay, honestly it's interesting to me to see people interpret a character in different ways, but if you don't like thinking about lucifer romance or redemption arcs then this post isn't for you.

[18+ only, minors dni]

thoughts about lucifer x gender neutral-ish reader thoughts. (reader is describes as having a clit and vagina, this is post is written by a trans man)

so i'm talking about a lucifer who has lost, i think he has to lose and fail at the apocalypse in season 5, he has to be shown he can be overpowered, he has to be shown that his father's plans and prophecies can be changed and are actually just bullshit. so this is a lucifer who still failed in season 5, and gets freed from the cage like in season 11, still using nick's body.

and i like to lean into lucifer's inhuman-ness and trauma because i find that interesting and is that because i can relate to parts of him... yeah sure of course.

i see a lot of interpretations of him where he's written as having had a lot of sex, of having a lot of casual sex with you before any feelings take place, of being crass and crude and and i just... i don't think he's ever had sex. i think he's disgusted by humans and that includes the things they do with each other.

i think he has to fall for you first (poor choice of words, i know).

i think you have to be at least a little nice to him. not naive, you know what he is, who he is and what he's done, but if he's here you're at least going to talk to him, not avoid him, not yell at him every conversation. and he's never really just sat down and talked with someone in a long time.

of course he'll tease you, and he'll try and push your buttons and make you hate him, people are supposed to hate him, you're supposed to hate him, why don't you hate him?

and he hates that he likes spending time with you. he doesn't want to need or want anyone, but of course he craves it. that desire to rule and be worshipped is just his desire to be loved, a craving for what he once had but was ripped from him.

you find yourself enjoying spending time with him, teasing him back, even standing up for him when he does actually keep his word. and it surprises him.

you tell him he can be anything he wants, that he doesn't have to be defined by his past and certainly not what his father says he is. screw the idea of fate and destiny. who are you lucifer? who do you want to be? and he doesn't really know anymore. he doesn't really want to end the world, hasn't for a while now. but he doesn't know what else he could be if he casts aside all the labels he's gained.

he couldn't ever make the first move, if he realises he loves you. and he could love you. you're so warm and full of light, everything that he used to be but isn't anymore. but his grace sings for you. you make him feel like he actually could change, that it could be worth it to change.

and he wouldn't be good on dates. he wouldn't buy you gifts, wouldn't know what a human would want anyway. it's not easy to have him be in public, he's too agitated, too ready to be snarky to anyone walking past, too ready to complain about everything. but let him? be patient with him, let him complain, join in with him, ask him his opinions on things, let him figure out how to be himself and show him he's not gonna put you off.

you would have to make the first move. and if you told him you loved him, he would panic. perhaps even teleport straight out of there. but he'd come back. you deserve that at least. and you'd tell him again. you'd let yourself be alone with him. give some trust to him, let him have you.

he'd be so touch starved. even in this stupid human body, he would shiver if you touched him. ask if he can touch you, if you'd let him, ever checking for your consent. and all those stupid human activities he never understood the want for, he craves them now.

he love kissing you, could get addicted too it, how you gasp and cling to him. sadly he normally forgets you also need to breathe. the first time he realises he can slide his tongue into your mouth and the sound you make is going to stay with him. he's going to replay that in his mind. or even better, he'll figure out how to get you to make that sound again.

he doesn't take sex lightly. he wants to make you feel good. he wants to learn what you like, where your most sensitive spots are, and prod them until you see stars. he's not experienced, but a fast learner, and more than willing to try out whatever ideas of kinks you have. he's actually excited at the idea of learning more about you, getting to do more things with you. for all his lack of experience, he's smug, he knows when he's made you feel good.

he's so good with his mouth. eating you out like he's worshipping you. lapping at your clit, forked tongue twisted around it, almost as if it's trying to jerk you off.

telling you how pretty you are, how well you take his fingers, then his cock. amazed that you're letting him do this. amazed at how much he likes it, how good it feels. how you've finally let him inside you.

it feels good everywhere you touch him. before you touch his cock he's already dripping just from your hands on his face, his neck, running down his sides. he's so needy and eager.

if you can see and touch his wings... well... he can't bear to let you see them at first. they're not going to be like whatever you've pictured. he's fell. and then he was in the cage, burning, in pain, for so long. but they're part of him and you tell him you'll love every part of him. his wings are scarred, once white now charred black and red in most places, and they clearly haven't been loved in a long time.

you're gentle with him, straightening feathers, removing debris, and he's shaking. shaking and panting by the end, hiding his face from you. you're worried you've hurt him once you notice he's been crying, but you haven't. he's overwhelmed by now long it's been since anyone touched them, how wonderful it feels to have someone touch them. you assure him that they're beautiful, that he's beautiful, you're angel, that despite how much he thinks he has dimmed that he still shines brightly to you.

he warps them around you like a cocoon the first time you have sex with his wings out, wants to keep you safe in them, not let anyone or anything hurt you. (he's always worried that he'll be the one to hurt you, even though he never wants too). if you tell him you love him during sex, if you intertwine your fingers with his, it makes him come faster and harder but he'll never tell you that.

with more experience, and the power of searching the internet, comes more adventurous encounters. he learns what he likes. and what he likes is: overstimulating you, making you come over and over again, he just wants to make you feel good, won't like let him make you feel good? especially overstimulating you with his mouth. his ego is still always there, tell him no one else could please him like you, no one could ever make you feel this good, praise him, call him beautiful, tell him he's good, tell him he fills you so well, that he fits perfectly inside you, call him your king or god and he might just come on the spot. honestly just say his name, or moan it, and that does a lot to him. love being deep inside you, legs over his shoulders, or pressing you deep into the bed from behind. he'd enjoying tying you up, the trust that comes with that, letting him touch you and use you (same goes for if you tell him you want him too fuck you in your sleep or fall asleep with him inside you). perhaps being slightly risky, having you in the bunker while others are around, teasing you that you have to keep quiet otherwise you'll be heard, 'so needy for me, couldn't even wait until everyone was gone to have me'. surprisingly, likes it when you mark him. he's as much yours as you are his, it makes him reassured that he's wanted.

but i'm just a soft boy who likes the idea of someone who's been hurt learning to let people love them and be able to love others idk maybe you think this is all super out of character for him and that's okay. it's all just my opinions and headcannons on a fictional character.

[icecoldbeauty]

Personally, quitting was the best choice I think I could've made at that time. I made so many memories and connections that are extremely important to me afterwards- I likely would not have gotten to meet as many people as I have, go as many places, and try so many other things if I stayed. It was extremely freeing for me, but that was because I had over time started feeling tied down and restrained by staying. You seem quite happy to be in your position still, so naturally it'd be hard to imagine quitting! I do hope you keep enjoying it- and if there ever were to be a day you don't, well, there'd be no shame in leaving. Funnily enough, one of my closer friends these days is the man that replaced my spot in the League! Just another person I likely wouldn't have met if I'd never left! Oh Arc, I'm so glad I was already away from the league for a few years after I started talking about that choice to people, so the press was already long off my back. i'm inclined to think that would have been like a waking nightmare, especially the damn gossip magazines (which were torture enough as was). You have no idea how many times I'd get my friends and colleagues alike coming up to me showing me the latest one that was claiming I was dating a person that I did nothing but shake hands with. You know? Proper etiquette? Being friendly? Those don't exist to them, nope, anytime a woman interacts with a man they are 100% smooching when nobody's looking! Even though I couldn't be attracted to a man even if I tried, and I have, so I can say that with confidence! But of course being open about being lesbian would have made the press at least twenty times more annoying, so out of the question that was- only close friends and family knew for the longest time. Actually had no idea you were trans, so guess you're doing a pretty good job at keeping down low too! But I really do think it's so sad that being on the down low like that can just... make our lives so much easier. I wish I could've been more open about it when it mattered most. I had a few partners, but none of them lasted long at all. Even if gossip wasn't always threatening to snag me for anything and everything I did, it was just that much harder to be openly anything that wasn't straight when I was growing up than it is now. So I wasn't. I wish it'd been different, but I can't quite rewrite the past to be whatever i want it to be. I've considered dating again, but I'm old now. Doubt anyone'd want me anymore, and I've just... come to accept it, even if it does still hurt just a little when I think about what could've been... Ah, but anyways... I do think the idea of challenging her someday sounds awful fun! It's been a while since I last had a match, I do still enjoy doing them for some enjoyment when I've got myself a worthy enough opponent to properly let loose with. And yes, our gyms are open year round! ... Now anyways. Probably don't need to explain why we don't talk a lot about how the boss of Team Rocket used to run one of the gyms way back! Wish our staff was as extensive as yours is. ... Actually, more staff than just the five of us miiight have prevented the Team Rocket thing to begin with... Yikes. Does sound like a fascinating way to run things, though. Wish I could've given it a shot when I was young enough to be running between gyms and all that good stuff.

Oh yeah wait you're too old to know what inkay games is my bad

Oh, please, I’m only twenty-three.

[ he’s not old. don’t make that mistake again. ]

—💎

[stardustinthesky]

wtf is happening with charlie and sarah in hudson and rex they act like they’re no longer together???

[thegoldenavenger]

Liu Qingge date lineup… I was thinking about how funny it would be to see how dating might change your lifestyle

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

At The Feet Of The Sun

book 2 in a slow paced high fantasy duology*

the right hand of the emperor (who is off searching for an heir) struggles with what to do after passing on his responsibilities and also discovering various pieces of information that are mindblowing to him, personally,

after adventure is thrust upon him, he travels to find His Radiancy and they go on some otherworldly adventures while growing closer and figuring out the nature of their friendship

(*there’s extra novellas & i think another book coming? duology adjacent, currently,)

[aeolianblues]

I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

-

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen. 

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet. 

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. 

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold. 

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed. 

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation. 

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave. 

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out. 

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different. 

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer. 

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up. 

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver. 

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave. 

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it. 

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down. 

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again. 

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch. 

When the door opens, it startles you awake. 

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water. 

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink. 

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room. 

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you. 

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers. 

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking. 

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer. 

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side. 

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss. 

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you. 

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you. 

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear. 

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place. 

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered. 

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck. 

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind. 

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus. 

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead. 

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat. 

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.  

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum. 

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices. 

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap. 

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject. 

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again. 

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned. 

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so. 

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything. 

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes. 

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed. 

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold. 

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh. 

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in. 

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous. 

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping. 

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up. 

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt. 

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat. 

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.  

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon. 

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—” 

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out. 

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth. 

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak. 

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard. 

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts. 

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue. 

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.   

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think. 

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby. 

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift. 

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him. 

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow. 

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

[2tarbell]

one order for a vanilla birthday cake pleaseee!

kook!reader texting rafe “what position have you got her in?” when he takes too long to respond to a text

happy birthday, angel 💓

BSF!RAFE + KOOK!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

manicured pink nails tapped impatiently on the restaurant table. eyes glued to the bedazzled device with a glittery pout adorning her lips. this was so unfair. rafe would have a fucking conniption if she even thought about not texting him back. and now it’s been… seven fucking minutes? yeah, right.

the last time she left him on delivered for two minutes he was blowing her phone up and all grumbly the rest of the week, pounding her into oblivion for playing games. dont get her wrong; she loved it. being fucked within an inch of her life was her favorite pastime.

but now? rafe cameron was like the worst hypocrite known to man.

‘what position u got her in?’

‘Be so fr’

it brought a smile to her pretty face seeing his sassy reply. with a satisfied huff, she set her phone face down on the table. why not make him sweat? picking up her long island iced tea with a devious grin, she was right back into the conversation with her girls.

the table was alight with giggles and gossip — the pack of kook girls enjoying lunch together after before hitting the beach.

it was supposed to be an easy day, a break from all the confusion and feelings still swirling around princess and her tall, handsome “best friend”. and she desperately needed that. needed some semblance of normalcy before shit took off and everything on the island changed when the two most hated and loved rich kids finally get together.

so she didn’t even flinch when her phone vibrated once, twice, thrice. she only excused herself from the conversation with a smile when her phone buzzed in a rhythmic pattern — a phone call. bubbles of giddy excitement filling her tummy as ‘rafey’ showed on the screen with a point five angled photo of him looking pissed.

“‘kay— be right back, girls!” she sang, already standing with her phone in hand.

“he finally called you, huh?” melodie, a beautiful brunette in a lilac bikini top teased. the table giggled, all looking at princess and feeling a rush of girlish excitement.

“get your man, baby!” another girl, aliyah, borderline squealed.

princess flushed, feeling her body heat up at the prospect of rafe being ‘her man’. god, imagine! she waved them off embarrassedly, teetering away on her platform flip flops, pleasantly tipsy as she leans against the outside wall of the restaurant.

“hellooooo?”

her voice was sugary sweet into the phone, looking down at her nails and checking the polish for any chips. the warm timbre of rafe cameron’s voice rumbled through the speaker, directly pressed into her ear. she found herself wishing to feel his lips moving around the words and against the shell of her ear.

“you’re somethin’ else, dollface.” he mumbled and she could hear the smirk on his lips.

“aw, you didn’t say ‘hi’, rafe…” she pouted, biting back a laugh at the sound of his heavy sigh on the other end.

“hi. you’re somethin’ else.”

“hiii. why’s that?”

his laugh came through the speaker, all deep and settling into her bones like it always does. she hears the tick, tick of his blinker, meaning he’s driving somewhere in that big truck of his.

princess looks around at the marina, taking the sight of obx residents enjoying the still warm, early fall weather. hot enough to take a dip without the water being freezing yet. rafe continued on as she flitted her gaze around the area.

he ignored her question, instead asking his own.

“checked your location. you tipsy right now?”

a giggle escaped her glossy lips, head lolling slightly, “mmm, maybe… why?”

“go back in and pay. sent you one fifty.”

she froze, pulling the phone from her ear and seeing an apple pay notification. he always did this. not like she could just use her dad’s card or anything.

“rafe cameron—“

he cut her off, hanging up after and not letting her protest, “hey— pay and then come back out. know i’ll let ‘chu make it up to me, a’ight?”

it was like a reverse walk of shame — explaining to her friends why she was leaving early and why she was covering the whole tab. walking back out with her purse on her arm as the familiar rumble of his truck approached, petulant in the way her arms were crossed. he pulled up right before her, rolling down the passenger window and smiling in that frustratingly charming way. dickhead.

she hung up with a guffaw, not believing he actually showed up when she was hanging with her friends. the possessive gesture makes her heart jump then fall. very boyfriend of him.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, that’s how you talk to someone who just paid for your lunch? get in.”

she scoffed, amused at his gall. even more so at the fact she listened — shoes clacking against the pavement. rafe leaned over the console, opening the door for her. he looks good and smells better. that cologne she bought him for his birthday last year that he seems to be wearing a lot recently. an intoxicating smell that makes her feel drunker.

a plaid button up, rolled up to the elbow and exposing strong, veiny arms causes her mind to wander as he leans closer to her.

“hey, gorgeous,” that low drawl sends goosebumps over her body, paired with a half smile that’s so pretty.

comfortable in the seat she’s become so familiar with, he closes the gap between them. giving her a kiss so casual and natural, it makes her fluffy lashes flutter rapidly. sticky gloss transfered on his mouth that he doesn’t even wipe away.

she’s even more confused when flowers are thrusted into her arms. princess blinks at him like a fish — feeling a warmth settle in her chest at the sight of her favorite blooms wrapped haphazardly in brown paper.

“they, uh— they were in this ugly fuckin’ plastic. know you hate that so… yeah,” rafe shrugs it off as he pulls out of the parking lot.

princess decides this is technically a kidnapping. especially because she’s never been more confused and lost in her life.

he leans back in the seat, driving with one hand lazily, confidently. a glimpse of blue eyes at her and she’s smiling wildly, bringing the flowers to her nose to smell them. princess leans over and kisses his cheek, feeling drunker on the moment and smell of his skin.

“i— thank you, rafey…”

rafe takes notice of how small her voice is, how vulnerable. he nods, switching hands to rest one on her leg. large, warm palm soothing her and pulling her out of her mind before she can even begin to cause herself to spiral.

he clears his throat, squeezing the plush, smooth skin of her thigh, “cowgirl.”

her furrowed brow is adorable. looking up from the bouquet in her lap and over at him in question. there’s a drunken slowness to her, a haze. he hums and pushes his hand higher — marking a mental note of how easily her legs spread to make room for him.

“that’s what position imma have you in.”

[thisqueernerd]

.