#We already have enough of that shit already

[thedepressedjuggalette]

To add to this, America has a culture that is literally built to work us to death.

It doesn't matter if you have literal fucking cancer, it doesn't matter if your body is breaking down visibly, it doesn't matter if you have diabetes or asthma and you need to get to your life saving medication, get your ass to work or become homeless, it's your choice.

Don't mind the fact that being homeless is outlawed.

I remember going onto Rednote and there was a post asking if it was true that in America the average American Household has $1.5 net worth. I fucking laughed. Every single US citizen on there shot that post down with a single word "No."

We all aren't rich. And yes, it's true that we have to pay out of pocket for every single doctors appointment and every single ER visit. Yes even if it's for something like Cancer.

We don't have that kind of fucking money but we have to bite the bullet to survive, but sometimes it's just a fate worse than death.

Even a funeral can send a family into generational debt.

You say we need to wake up and fight the power, bro we can barely fight for our survival, if it was that easy we'd already be doing it. Spreading information is part of fighting the power.

America has the richest economy but the poorest middle and lower classes to ever exist. I make almost $1,000 every check but majority of that check goes to my auto loan, car insurance, phone bill, medical bill (for getting my blood drawn it cost me $500), rent that I pay my stepdad, and by the end of it I have less than $300 left.

Hell, right now I'm risking getting fired because I have to stay home because I'm sick. If I could afford to go and protest, to go and punch Nazis in the face, BITCH I WOULD.

But I can't.

Why?

My life is literally tied to my job. If I could get paid to spread information about what is going on in today's day and age, make enough money doing so that I won't have to worry about any medical bills because we all know it's cheaper to save up money than relying on insurance, and also make enough money to not have to worry about ending up homeless, my I'd take that risk in fighting the fight. But that shit is a fucking pipe dream.

I'm burnt out, I'm tired, and with every single news article that pops up like "Trump has barred black people from joining the military!" I'm not fucking surprised anymore. Anyone with eyes could see it fucking coming.

Those of us who can afford to hide, who can afford to fight either have nothing to lose, or have enough privileges that they know retaliation wouldn't hurt them as much as it would hurt someone like me.

My only form of fighting is by spreading information and even then it's emotionally and mentally draining. I am dreading the day that shit gets worse.

For those outside of America going "why don't you fight back" or "don't you guys know what's going on?" let me explain something to you.

We know.

There is nothing a lot of us can do right now.

We are either minorities surrounded by Trump supporters or struggling to make ends meet or (most likely) both.

These first few days are designed to exhaust us. It's the same tactic he used during his first administration. Overwhelm the media and the masses so that the more sinister things he does gets swept under the rug.

And honestly, a lot of us are checked out because we spent the last four years warning people about a second term because our lives were on the line and those we thought cared about us proved they didn't.

And now we're just trying to find some sort of semblance of happiness in this joyless world we're now living in. We fight when we can, we bring attention to what we can, but a lot of us are just fucking exhausted.

So please, cut us some slack. We've been fighting for the last eight years, we still have to fight for the next four.

Right now, survival is the only rebellion we have.

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Smau

A/N : hi~ its been a while my luvsss! Hope you enjoy hihi

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 18 | Next >

Y/N. 45mins ago

story replies

oscarpiastri Thank you dearest! Ily

Y/N. ily too! are you free to go to the hotel now?

oscarpiastri Not yet, baby. I still need to do post race interviews and I'm assuming that McLaren will bite my ass for the race.

Y/N. Ah damn, I wish i could commit arson in your motorhome rn hbcalfbsa

oscarpiastri Lmao I'll beat you to it.

Y/N. Should I wait for you?

oscarpiastri No need luv, I'll see you in our room

Y/N. Alright Osc~ call me if you need anything.

oscarpiastri Ik luv, keep safe alright?

L.norris Aren't you and your rebound fucking happy.

L.norris I know Max and Charles planned everything to screw my drive. I bet it was your idea.

L.norris I'll make oscar's stay in Mclaren hell than it already is.

Y/N. P1-P6 in turn one amazing drive and really?? a dummy account?? how desperate can you be? Ella not enough for you?

L.norris I swear Y/n.

skysports LIVE

mclaren

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

mclaren P2astri! monstrous effort by @oscarpiastri. P17 to P2 — that’s our driver!

oscarpiastri Lol. 

danielricciardo Yeah Lol

user1 Bruhs literally said Lol.

user2 Oh, hi danny ric. Can I ask you a question? what's up with Mclaren screwing their aussie drivers??

user1 Not Mclaren tryna play nice after the team orders. Cuz wth was that???

user3 Sweep it under the rug ahh move from them.

user2 I stand by what i’ve said about Oscar should try to fit in the team before but damn after what they tried to pull today?? Oscar’s reaction is valid

user3 Imagine admin posting this after Mclaren tried to f up Oscar’s race… the audacity of this team is amqzing.

user4 I could see Lando fuming right now 😮‍💨

user5 Mate of course he is! Did you hear the radio? Lando wanted to take both his and oscar's cars out 

user6 Lando has always been a sore loser. But today was smth else -- a crybaby in the radio damn.

user7 imagine if McLaren actually showed support towards Oscar? Blud might even be fighting Max on the WDC rn

user8 WE WILL NEVER FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO OSC IN QUALIFYING

user9 and we will NEVER forgive you Mclaren!!

user10 Oscar only continuous to amaze us as a driver. That level of focus on maturity on track was masterclass.

Notification : You missed a call from Zak Brown*

Notification : You missed a call from Zak Brown*

Notification : You missed a call from Zak Brown*

Notification : Zak Brown sent you a voice message*

-Pick up the damn phone Oscar! or I swear you'll be driving nothing next week!! -

Incoming call from Mark Webber

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

-Hello? What is it Mark?-

-Get your ass inside the motorhome. NOW-

-Calm down, I'm on my way. I just finished my bloody interviews-

-Heads up, everyone is fuming. You made them look like clowns today Osc... I have no idea what consequences they've planned for you-

-Whatever, i'm sick and tired of them-

-You don't get it Osc... this is serious. RedBull and Ferrari contacted me and they've said Zak is pulling some strings to keep you inside McLaren. They might withdraw their offer-

-shit, what???-

-Exactly, so get your ass here NOW. -

call has been disconnected

Formula1 news

MCLAREN DRIVER FEUD! The arguments between the 2 McLaren drivers have turned physical! 

read more… 

Not long after the race and interviews, it was said that a fight had started inside the McLaren Motorhome. 

Sources had stated that Lando Norris had confronted Oscar Piastri for not following team orders given previously. Both drivers seemed to be talking till it started to escalate when Oscar tried to leave. 

Physicalities had started when Lando had struck the Australian in the face— initiating Oscar to fight back. The fight had been stopped with Lando Norris being escorted with a broken and bleeding nose and Oscar with a bruised cheek. 

oscarpiastri 3 mins

story replies

danielricciardo Mate! how did you get that?! 

oscarpiastri Lando was a sore loser and punched me after interviews 

danielricciardo Damn, tell me he’s got it worse?

oscarpiastri yeah, I broke his nose. danielricciardo Nice. does Y/N know? 

oscarpiastri not yet. 

danielricciardo oh she’s not gonna like that

oscarpiastri I mean i didnt start it

logansargeant WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?

oscarpiastri Calm down, Logan its just a bruise. 

logansargeant so the rumors where real? you and lando got into a fight? 

oscarpiastri blud couldn’t accept that I won. 

logansargeant Cool. But i’m sure Mclaren isnt happy with this.

oscarpiastri is that even a surprise 

logansargeant Hey, they might fire you and I could have your seat then 

oscarpiastri Yeahhh screw you. You already signed the contract with Indycar 

logansargeant heck yeah I did! 

charles_leclerc Oi I let you out my sight for a few hours and this happens??

oscarpiastri you know you're playing this father thing a lil too real.

charles_leclerc Ik, deal with it! Anyways so the fight was true

oscarpiastri How did you know?

charles_leclerc carlos was on call with Lando and I overheard. You hit Lando out of no where?

oscarpiastri WHAT? NO. He punched me first. Where did you get that?

charles_leclerc Carlos told me that Lando said that to him… that you were the one who punched him in the nose. 

oscarpiastri wtf? Nah… he’s twisting the story again. Classic 

charles_leclerc I knew it!

*Hilton Hotel

-Y/N? luv are you here?-

-Yeah, i’m on the bed-

-Did you watch the race?-

-I did! P2 my luv congratu— what the fuck happened to your cheek?!- 

-Lando punched me after the interview. Nothing big-

-Nothing big?! are you kidding me? Oscar half your face is swollen! -

-And his nose is broken, whats the big deal?! I’m fine aren’t I?-

-You broke Lando’s nose?!  Oscar what the hell! You hit him back?! - 

-Of course I did! What?! should i just let him have at me? What the fuck is that question Y/N??- 

-Oscar! you actually fought physically. This is different! this is not online or on the tracks! you can’t just start throwing fists like cavemen!-

-Different how?! Y/N, Lando struck first and I hit back. I’m was defending myself! Why am I even explaining this to you?! Aren’t you on my side?! -

-Of course I am Osc! I am always on your side!-

-Then show it! Y/N! because what it looks to me is that you think is that I should’ve just let him beat me over! - 

-Of course not! but you know that everyone will use this against you.-

-So?-

-So?? what do you mean so?! You could be in trouble with the FIA. Red Bull and Ferrari might withdraw their offer for you if this blows up! Oscar your career is already hanging on by a thread! How could you let them hold more things against you? -

-You think I dont know that?! HUH, Y/N?! Not a fucking day goes by without me thinking whether if I’ll have my job the next day! So don’t fucking preach to me what I should be thinking or be feeling! You know that everything about this started with you right?? because I chose to fight for our relationship?? -

-Oscar, I know that! Don’t you think I don’t feel guilty or hurt seeing you suffer because of me? because of us?! I’ve been dealing with some shit too! and do you see me throwing fists around?!!-

-And now it’s all about you. You know what Y/N? Yeah… you don’t fight No. You just wait for them to cheat on you before you see the years of abuse. Well tough luck Y/N, i’m not like you! I don’t cower away when its Lando. - 

-WOW! just fucking wow, Oscar!! how nice to pull that shit up. You fucking know how I feel about what Lando did to me!-

-You know what?! I can’t do this right now. I need air. FUCK!-

Notification : you received a message from **** *** ***

*Hello ms. Y/N, this is Emery James, McLaren's Lawyer. I am reaching out on behalf of McLaren to offer you a proposition that will benefit all . Your presence is requested urgently. please contact us at your earliest discretion. Thank you*

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

extra A/N: Only a few more chapters for this series my luvs! I'm so glad yet sad that this smau is coming to an end huhu

alsooooo recently i've been obsessing over football! any Madridistas here hihi? Imma shamelessly plug my playlist for Jude here~ enjoy hskhdbvks

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[kisses4kaia]

nobody does it better by carly simon but it’s the radiohead cover and it’s patrick… cw: DISGUSTING smut with this evil man, no less no more . im shameless.

a/n: so we all know the photo. and what ThePhoto did to me was… this! enjoy. 😌

the room is loud. there’re a million people you could be talking to, looking at. a hundred people you could sit in the corner and people watch, but his eyes are on you. and you cannot look away.

patrick zweig was a reoccurring character in your life. starting off as low-commitment boyfriend freshman year, turning to effervescent fuckbuddy you could never get far enough away from to become detached. you hated him, god, you hated the pull on you he had. the iron grip that steeled you right where you were across the room from him, eyes locked like a guarded palace onto his. good lord.

it truly takes the will of god to keep your feet planted where they are, forcing yourself to divert your eyes from him. but, never fear, he’s already moving towards you.

his towering presence is felt immediately as he stands in front of you, looking down into your eyes as if he can hear your heart pounding regardless of the blaring song around him.

“hey,��� he says quietly, tone soft but gravelly, as if there wasn’t a sound barrier around the two of you that might keep you from hearing him. “what do you want, zweig? your voice comes out more pointedly than you intended, but with the way your pulse is thrumming and your hands are shaking, you can hardly blame yourself.

looking at you with that look in his eye, the one that almost mocks you as to say ‘got ya’, he cranes his neck down to whisper in your ear. “what do you want?” and he knows.

patrick turns without another word, and before you can process what you’re doing, your feet are moving with him, as if a collar was wrapped around your neck, choking your senses, and the leash was hanging haphazardly from his hand.

his path leads you into a bathroom, small, no shower, with a buzzing, lagging light. his hands are on your waist as soon as you step through the door, pushing you against it. patrick doesn’t kiss you immediately, unusual for him. “i miss you,” he breathes out, nervously, and it is jarring.

patrick zweig is not nervous, ever. he was self sure and confident and a fucking dickwad who knew it and embraced it as part of his “charm”. “yeah? and how many girls have you said that to, hm? britney posted you on her story yesterday, patrick. last friday, it was ántonia. fuck you,” you spat out, the 3… maybe 4 vodka sours you indulged in half an hour ago making your head pound, or maybe it was his dior sauvage.

he sighs, looking away from you impatiently, but when his eyes lands back on you, his gaze is crazed. “fuck, they don’t matter to me. i don’t know their last names, i don’t know their little siblings, they don’t know my favorite band, and i don’t look them in the eye when i fuck them. shit, baby, it’s you, don’t you realize? always fucking you,”

oscar winning preformance, is what you want to say, but his exasperated exhale after the words come out, paired with the rihanna song dully thrumming behind the door, bass vibrating against the wood, you look between his eyes, down at his lips, and your eyes don’t travel again before you smash your mouth onto his.

never fucking again, you tell yourself as his lips move in desperate, hungry, almost disbelieving tandem with yours. this is the last time.

“do you have a boyfriend?” he breathes out between kisses as he unbuckles your belt and unbuttons your jeans, shimmying them off. “like that’d make you walk out right now,” you kiss him again, biting his lower lip. “fuck. no, fuck no, but if you do, i’m going to make you remember exactly why nobody does it better.”

patrick lifts you effortlessly and places you on the sink, pulling your sticky, lacy panties to the side, smirking that evil damn smirk at the fancy little bow at the top. “did you know i was gonna be here tonight?” he nibbles as your ear, bringing loving bites down your jugular to your shoulder.

“no, but i knew art would be.” your smile is devious as his eyes light up, not with jealousy, but with the same fire he gets when he realizes his opponent on the other side of the net is really playing with him, when they’re really playing fucking tennis.

patrick jerks himself once or twice, languidly, before sliding his cock into you. a hardly contained whine pulls from your voice, and your mouth drops into an ‘o’ at the stretch. he nearly has you in an embrace, the way he’s holding you closely against his chest, and his curls are begging to be pulled. you entwine your finger with the hair at the nape of his neck and tug with every sharp thrust into your leaking pussy.

“more, give me more, patrick, don’t hold back on me, asshole.” he doesn’t even respond, just obediently lifts you up every so slightly off the sink and moves you on and off of his cock, giving him a much wider range of motion. his dick is nearly completely out of you each time his hips snap back, but you’re moaning like a pornstar each time he’s in again.

his ability to hit that spot inside of you with near perfect accuracy every fucking time is expert, a skill that could only be acquired by someone so in tune with your pleasure—and if patrick zweig was nothing else, he was that.

“fuck, gonna, shit! gripping me so fucking tight, leaking all over my shit, baby. she miss me? huh, pretty? you miss me?” he was talking right through you, each word penetrating your deepest desires and fantasies. you hated how he knew you. you hated that you let him. but most of all, you hated how close you were to coming.

he keeps fucking you unforgivingly, whining and moaning like a whore all the while. “you still on that pill?” he asked, voice pitchy and annoying and sexy.

“no, insurance stopped covering it.” you say seriously, and you can’t keep your laughter in when his thrusts slow and he looks at you panicked. “i’m fucking with you, don’t stop,”

“you’re evil, you know that?” he says endearingly, playful as always, and it’s no more than a minute later that he’s coming inside you.

patrick never was a selfish lover, so it came as no surprise that after pulling his softening girth from you, not one, not two, but three of his finger were quickly pumping in and out of you, making him moan sluttishly at the way his own cum coated his fingers. his other hand made busy circling your clit with his thumb, fast and calculatedly.

he knew every button to push because he sewed them onto you, and so it was no surprise that with that special angling of his wrist, you were coming undone on his fingers in minutes.

it’s quiet for the next few minutes, you cleaning yourself up, patrick washing his hands, the both of you redressing in silence.

“so… same time tomorrow?” he smiles at you, pleased with himself and sure your answer will be affirmative.

you walk up to him, smile, kiss him tenderly on his lips, let your heels touch the ground again softly. “go fuck yourself, patrick.” your words are sharp but your tone is sickly sweet, and patrick recovers from his shock quickly, smirking stupidly.

“after that, i most definitely will be.”

[dulcescorderitas]

the bar’s packed, bodies pressed together, heat rolling off them like a furnace, beer sloshing in plastic cups, cheers and groans bouncing off the walls. the game’s on every screen, a tidal wave of green and red jerseys, but you don’t give a shit about football. neither does sam, not really. he’s here for dean, who's already three whiskey shots deep, yelling at the tv like his life depends on it.

you’re here for sam.

he's leaning against the wall, beer in hand, his eyes flicking from the screen to you, more interested in the way your lips wrap around the rim of your drink than whatever the hell’s happening on the field. there’s something simmering in his stare, something slow-burning and wicked, and when the eagles score, the whole bar erupts, but all you hear is his voice low in your ear.

“if the eagles win,” he murmurs, his lips just brushing your skin, “i’m fucking you so hard your legs don’t work tomorrow.”

your breath hitches, the weight of his promise making your fingers tighten around your glass. but you don’t back down, tilting your head to whisper back, “if the chiefs win, you’re eating me out until i forget my own name.”

his hand flexes at his side. tension coils tight between you, and it’s unbearable, the game, the people, the noise—it all fades because suddenly it’s just him and you, and the need pooling low in your belly.

you don’t wait for the final score.

the bathroom is dimly lit, the walls vibrating with the energy outside. you barely get the door locked before sam’s on you, his hands greedy, rough, palms dragging up your thighs, over your hips, pushing you against the cool tile. his breath is hot, his mouth demanding, swallowing your gasp as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, setting you on the sink.

“fuck, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” he growls, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips branding heat into your skin.

you do. because you’ve wanted it just as bad.

your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him down, mouths clashing, messy and desperate. his beard scrapes against your jaw as he kisses you hard, like he’s trying to consume you, like he can’t get close enough. and when his hands move lower, when he tugs at your jeans, you help him, kicking them off, the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat between your legs.

his fingers slip beneath your underwear, dragging through your slick, teasing, before he groans, “fuck, you’re already so wet for me.”

“sam,” you whimper, hips rolling into his touch.

he doesn’t make you wait. not tonight.

he frees himself with one hand, stroking once before lining up, his eyes locked on yours as he thrusts in, slow, deep, stretching you inch by inch until he’s seated fully, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

“jesus,” he breathes, forehead dropping against yours.

his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he starts to move, each thrust deliberate, driving pleasure through you like a pulse. the bar noise is distant now, muffled, drowned out by your soft cries, the wet slap of skin on skin, the sharp hiss of his breath.

he fucks you like he promised—like he’s trying to ruin you, each roll of his hips hitting that spot that has you clawing at his back, desperate for more. and when you tighten around him, close, so fucking close, he growls against your throat, “come for me, baby. come all over my cock.”

you do, gasping his name, shattering around him, and he follows with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you.

outside, the bar erupts into cheers.

sam’s still breathing heavy, forehead resting against yours as he huffs a laugh. “guess we missed who won.”

you smirk, fingers tracing his jaw. “we both won.”

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @deanssun @ambiguous-avery

[captainclickycat]

Whoops turns out I have Further Thoughts on this.

So, here's the thing. We could argue a lot about whether or not characters in horror films make stupid decisions and how it depends on the individual film and what have you all day long. And I'm sure we could come up with a few examples on either side of the argument.

But I think there's a broader point here which is that when people say "what if there was a horror movie that featured a convenient and straightforward way for the characters to get out of trouble without making any sacrifices along the way, so they did that and were fine, the end", and especially when they present this as some kind of refreshing new take on the genre...

Well, aside from the fact that this would make for a very boring and disappointing story for anyone who actually wanted to watch a horror film, it has the same energy as those people who are presented with moral dilemmas as a thought exercise and get fixated on "what if there was a way to stop the trolley and save all six people" "what if you could replace the Omelas kid with a robot" and so on. It's a copout, and it really does come off more like they're balking at the idea that suffering is sometimes unavoidable, that sometimes there are no easy answers and any decision you make comes at a cost.

It reminds me of this other post that was going round a decade or so ago, where the title was something like "horror movies for our generation" and the gist of the whole thing was essentially "if millennials were in a horror movie scenario we'd be able to fix everything and save ourselves straight away because we're so smart and progressive and have the best resources!" (Which to add a bit of extra context was clearly pushing back against a lot of the "millennials are stupid children who don't know how to do anything" think piece discourse that was floating around at the time) and a lot of people in the notes (possibly even including me, at the time) going "omg I need this!! I'd watch the shit out of this!!" which, when you think about it, is really weird when you acknowledge that the scenarios being described were essentially just "what if something that claimed to be a horror story actually just had no plot."

The idea of a horror story where the characters make sensible, realistic, understandable decisions is potentially a great premise (and again, there are plenty of existing horror stories that already meet that criteria.) Crucially, though, that can't be enough to get them out of trouble, at least not instantaneously.

If you could avoid getting lost in the scary woods just by using your trusty functioning gps tracker, there would be no story. So in an actual horror story, the gps wouldn't work, or it would be hijacked by some sinister entity and end up landing the characters right back where they started, or lead them further into danger. The characters happen to have the exact right combination of personalities and skillsets to instantly defeat the monster and go home? Well, first of all that's just dumb luck, and second of all that can't work right away either. There would be a different monster that they can't defeat so easily, or they simply don't have enough information or opportunity for most of the story to be able to actually use their collective skills against it. You managed to evade the killer and get out of the creepy log cabin unharmed? Congratulations. Your best friend is still in there, though, and they might be injured. Are you comfortable leaving them behind and hoping they can fend for themself while you get away? What if it's your child? Sometimes the "stupid" decision is the one you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't make.

I'm going to give the "cozy romance" person props because at least they're honest about the fact that they don't actually want a horror story, and at least the story they're proposing would actually have a plot, just not a horror one. I can see where their thought process was going; there is something cool about the idea of a secret secondary plot going on in the background that the protagonist managed to narrowly avoid, that we can put the pieces together about if we pay close enough attention. (It's not the best example, there are undoubtedly better ones, but it reminds me a bit of Shaun of the Dead where we get these hints that there's a doppelgänger squad running around in the background, and it seems like just a one-off joke until one of them shows up at the end with the military in tow.)

But the thing about that example and a lot of the other ones is that there's eventually a payoff. Ultimately it does affect the protagonists in some way, even if it's sometimes a subtle way. And there's something sort of weird, and just a little jarring, about the idea of reading a story where you're sort of vaguely aware that horrible things are happening to some poor bastard in the background, and your only takeaway from that is supposed to be "oh well, sucks to be them. Let's continue to enjoy watching these Sensible people kiss! Yay!" Apart from maybe being a cool sort of easter egg, what exactly is the point of this subplot, besides imparting the profoundly unsatisfying message of "you can easily avoid danger and have a wonderful life if you're just smart and sensible enough!" when that's so often and so tragically untrue in real life.

And that's why I feel like this would be a much better premise if the horror eventually caught up with the protagonist. Because sorry folks, but escaping the genre unscathed is too easy and too unsatisfying. It has to at least be a challenge, or there's no story worth reading.

You can't just replace the Omelas kid with a robot.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER ONE

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, late-night facetime calls, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time—”

A chorus of groans erupted around you, loud and exaggerated. Se-Mi flopped dramatically onto the couch, Ji-Yeong threw her head back like you had just sentenced her to death, and No-Eul simply sighed as she scrolled through her phone.

“I mean it,” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the middle of the hotel suite. “This is a BuzzFeed interview. They’re going to ask easy, fun questions, but you guys still need to sound like you have at least half a brain between the four of you.”

Sae-Byeok, sitting on the arm of the couch, smirked. “That’s a lot to ask.”

You shot her a look, and she just raised her hands in surrender.

“This is why you’re our manager and not our PR rep,” Ji-Yeong said, grinning. “You actually care if we sound stupid.”

“Yes, and I’d like to keep my job,” you shot back. “So please, for the love of everything holy, just try not to say anything that’ll get us trending for the wrong reasons.”

Se-Mi, still sprawled on the couch, waved a hand lazily. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll be fine. It’s just BuzzFeed.”

“Yeah,” Ji-Yeong chimed in, “worst case scenario, we end up in some ‘Dumbest Celebrity Interview Moments’ compilation on YouTube. Free promo.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I hate all of you.”

No-Eul, ever the voice of reason, finally spoke up. “They’ll behave,” she said, barely looking up from her phone. “Mostly.”

“That’s not reassuring,” you muttered.

Sae-Byeok, watching you with an amused expression, nudged your side with her foot. “You worry too much.”

“Because one of us has to,” you shot back.

She smirked. “And that’s why you’re our favorite.”

Before you could process that (did Sae-Byeok just call you their favorite?), a knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Their stylist popped her head in, clipboard in hand.

“Alright, you guys,” she said. “Time to get dressed. Interview���s in an hour.”

Se-Mi groaned as she sat up. “Ugh, do we have to?”

“Yes,” you, No-Eul, and the stylist all said at the same time.

Ji-Yeong snickered. “Alright, alright, let’s go.”

As they shuffled off to get ready, Sae-Byeok lingered for a second, watching you.

“You’re really stressed about this, huh?” she asked, tilting her head.

You exhaled. “I just want this to go well. You guys are blowing up, and interviews like this can really shape how people see you.”

She was quiet for a moment, then—

“…We’ll be fine.”

You looked up at her.

There was something steady in the way she said it, something that made you believe her.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better be.”

She smirked and, with that, disappeared into the dressing room.

And you? You just prayed they wouldn’t give you a heart attack on live camera.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching as the girls got settled in the bright, modern-looking BuzzFeed studio. Cameras were being adjusted, mic packs were clipped onto their outfits, and a giant board with pre-written search questions was placed in front of them.

Ji-Yeong, of course, was already messing with it. “Ooooh, the mystery,” she teased, wiggling her fingers dramatically over the top of the board.

Se-Mi grinned, leaning forward. “I love these types of interviews. People Google the weirdest shit.”

No-Eul sighed, adjusting her mic. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Sae-Byeok, as usual, looked completely unbothered, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed, waiting for things to start.

The interviewer, a cheerful BuzzFeed staff member, smiled at them from across the table. “Alright! Welcome, HOT DIVISION!”

A chorus of greetings followed, with Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi being the loudest while No-Eul and Sae-Byeok gave more subdued nods.

“We’re going to be doing the ‘Most Searched Questions’,” the interviewer explained, patting the board. “Each of these has a commonly searched question about you guys, and you’ll take turns peeling them off and answering.”

Ji-Yeong rubbed her hands together. “Let’s go.”

You prayed they wouldn’t say anything that would give your PR team a migraine.

Ji-Yeong, naturally, was the first to go. She dramatically peeled off the first strip of paper, reading it aloud.

“‘Is Kim Ji-Yeong… actually as chaotic as people say?’”

She gasped, clutching her chest. “I am offended by this question.”

Se-Mi snorted. “You shouldn’t be. It’s true.”

Ji-Yeong turned to the camera, dead serious. “I am a delight to be around.”

No-Eul, without looking up, muttered, “That’s a lie.”

Sae-Byeok just smirked, shaking her head.

Ji-Yeong sighed dramatically. “Fine. Yes. I am chaotic. But would you all love me if I wasn’t?”

Se-Mi threw an arm around her. “Exactly. Chaos is in our brand.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose from the sidelines.

Sae-Byeok lazily reached forward, peeling off the next strip. She read it, then raised an eyebrow.

“‘Is Kang Sae-Byeok single?’”

Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi exploded into laughter.

“OH, THIS IS GOOD,” Se-Mi cackled, slapping the table.

Sae-Byeok just sighed, giving the camera a blank look. “Yes.”

Ji-Yeong leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “And are you—”

“No.”

Se-Mi pouted. “You didn’t even let her finish.”

Sae-Byeok shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You watched from the sidelines, carefully keeping your expression neutral. (Not that you were thinking about it. Not at all.)

No-Eul peeled her question off, scanning it briefly before exhaling.

“‘Is Kang No-Eul the mom of the group?’”

The response was immediate.

“Yes,” Se-Mi said.

“Absolutely,” Ji-Yeong added.

“The only responsible one,” Sae-Byeok confirmed.

No-Eul, unimpressed, just stared at them. “I hate all of you.”

Ji-Yeong grinned. “See? Mom behavior.”

Fourth Question: "Is Han Se-Mi…?"

Se-Mi eagerly peeled off her question, reading it with interest.

“‘Is Han Se-Mi the flirtiest member?’”

You already knew what was coming.

Se-Mi gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Me? A flirt? How dare you.”

Sae-Byeok rolled her eyes. “You literally flirt with the camera.”

Ji-Yeong nodded sagely. “She flirts with air molecules.”

Se-Mi turned to the camera, giving a slow, knowing smirk. “I just like to make people feel special.”

From the side, you muttered under your breath, “Menace.”

Se-Mi heard you and shot a wink in your direction.

Ji-Yeong peeled off the last question, reading it aloud.

“‘Is HOT DIVISION the next big thing in rock?’”

The girls exchanged glances.

Then, Sae-Byeok leaned forward slightly, looking straight into the camera.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just raw confidence.

Ji-Yeong smirked. “Damn right we are.”

Se-Mi grinned. “Hope you’re all ready.”

No-Eul nodded. “Because we’re not slowing down.”

From the sidelines, you felt something warm bloom in your chest.

They had come a long way. And they were just getting started.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25

[lilliths-not-just-httyd-blog]

every time people find a reason to start clowning on david seymour, i've learned to immediately ask myself "did he manufacture this himself and what he is trying to overshadow?"

it's very fun and cathartic to clown on the guy, don't get me wrong. but i do genuinely worry that, in many cases, he's aware that we love doing it, and is trying to bait us in one direction by making a scene of himself so that we're not looking in another when something important is happening. think how the woke sushi meme, for a while there, was seeming to overshadow the actual important discussions about kids not being fed.

news headlines will latch onto whatever is eye catching. sometimes it's the shock value, sometimes it's the absurdity, sometimes it's the comedic aspects. and i have to wonder if david is intentionally conducting himself in a way that tricks people into latching onto those eye catching spectacles.

there is no way this man is dumb enough to believe that everyone likes him and his policies. he's arrogant but he's not that dumb. and i'm sure he knows that he can leverage our hatred of him for his own gain.

i'm beginning to really believe that privatisation has been the goal from the start. it would be very easy. you simply implement a bunch of really shitty policies that fuck up the economy even more than it already was. you keep making shit worse on purpose until public services such as healthcare, ferries, social housing, all this shit is barely afloat. and right when it's about to go under, you sell it off to private firms for a cheap price. easy two step privatisation scheme. and all the while you distract everyone with unserious scandals like woke sushi and land rovers.

keep your eyes open for as long as these guys are in power. i do not trust these fuckers with anything. i'm very concerned that there's some major scheme in the works here that we're all falling victim to, something designed to strip us of public services. hell, even the fucking treaty principles bill could be a massive part of that scheme. look how massive a shitstorm that's caused; and rightly fucking so, anyone who messes with te tiriti needs to be held to account. but why the fuck is david so damn committed to this stupid fucking bill which he KNOWS will not and should not ever pass? (other than the fact that he'd a racist todger)

what else are they trying to distract us from seeing?

fight as many of these shitty bills as you can. regardless of whether it's all connected to a wider scheme or not, whether david is intentionally trying to distract us or not, whether i'm right or wrong, they still need to be fought. the economy is still being massacred regardless. bigotry is rampant among the elite. people are suffering. there's obvious government lobbying and corruption going on. we can't let anything slip under the radar.

and sweet fuck, i hope i'm just reading too far into things. if only so i don't have to give david the credit of being that intelligent ;-;

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

In defense of MelJay

I just need to say this…SHUT UP! Yall are all tap dancing on my last nerve.I’m am at my wits end with this fandom. Every time I think we take one step forward some dufus pushes us two steps back.

Okay. I’m arguing with a JayVik shipper on TikTok who says MelJay is boring and toxic. I am about to explode this shit can’t still be the main conversation about this ship.

So first off MelJay is “boring”. This isn’t unique to JayVik nor is it the first time someone has said this about MelJay, but I always find it weird when people say certain ships are boring. The ships in question are usually just chill and communicative so there is no needless drama. This probably relates more to online fandoms’ obsession with romanticizing toxicity but I digress. It’s weird that the tension and political intrigue,something of which yall claim to love about the show overall, is in someway boring. The fact they are not constantly arguing or disregarding each other was nice cause I hate that those interactions are normalized in fandom in regard to romantic ships. If one of them had something to say then they would just say it and they would discuss it and move on like a normal couple. There is a lot to digest with them though as separate characters and as a couple. While Mel and Jayce are similar they obviously are not exactly alike. Mel it’s a lot more closed off and tempered and Jayce is more emotionally open and is hot headed. Both want to do good and have enough ambition to do so. It is their methods that differentiate them. Mel is more comfortable working behind the scenes whereas Jayce runs head first. These little differences offers up moments of character growth for both these characters. Mel started to become more aggressive (she was never docile) in her emotions and tactics where Jayce became more level headed.

The second one is that they are toxic. I’m going to keep this part short cause I already addressed this multiple times on this tumblr, so I’ll just bring up my highlights. Mel was not manipulating Jayce throughout their whole relationship. The only times where we see her manipulations is with Hoskel , but f him who cares about that man, and Jayce during progress day when they weren’t even together and Viktor wanted Jayce to do the same thing Mel was asking him to do. He didn’t even listen to her either. Mel and Jayce were genuinely attracted to one another so no she didn’t eventually fall for him she liked him from the first kiss. After a certain point we must recognize that Jayce was coming to Mel for advice and she gave it. Whether he listened to her or not. The investment line, an investment to Mel is not the same as investment to Jayce. An investment to Mel is like an action word. She invested in Hextech cause she genuinely believed in Jayce and Viktors ability to do good and she wanted to help similar to how a parent invest in their child, not because they think they’ll get something in return but because they love and believe in their kid. Jayce knows that, hence why he apologized for insinuating otherwise.

A lot of the so called toxicity the fandom claims they see is cause no one is meaningfully engaging with Mel or Jayce as characters but are just trying to get them to work in whatever ship they see fit.

Listen at the end of the day ship who you want but how you ship is gonna get your critiqued. For the love of anything that’s holy engage with the characters as their own separate entities. Your ships will thank you for it.

Ps I doubt this will be the last time some one will piss me off about Mel, Jayce or their relationship but I’m trying to keep this page more happy, for a lack of better words,so I’m trying not to rant to much. I got one more though. It’ll be way shorter though.

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AT THEIR BREAKING POINT

scout: scout gets more, and more, and more angry and vicious and vitriolic until he’s at his limit. once he’s at his limit, there is no bringing him back from that. he doesn’t want to hear anything from anyone. he just wants to fight. and everyone is at risk, because everything is a reason to fight, or argue. and he’ll argue with you until one of you are ready to put your dukes up. screaming matches are common. he says hurtful shit, and just won’t care. he already feels like it’s him against the world. what’s the difference in making that true?

soldier: soldier doesn’t really reach breaking points. even at his most heated, his most distraught, his most baffled, he just needs one good explosive moment and he’ll be back to a more “normal” version of pissed. a pissed you can talk to and work things out with. so in that sense, his breaking point is constantly being reached. depending on the severity of the transgression against him will determine the amount of damage he’s going to do to your immediate vicinity; but after he’s wreaked havoc you could probably talk to him with minimal issue!

pyro: pyro locks themselves in their room. they don’t want to be seen, don’t want to be spoken to, don’t want to be interacted with at all. and frankly, nobody wants to interact with pyro when they’re at their breaking point. it’s like interacting with a tantruming child. they’re not particularly nice, nor are they as easygoing as they like to pretend they are. hides under the bed. falls asleep under there.

demo: the drinking goes from already a Not Good Thing to a genuine problem. he goes from a marginally concerning, yet mainly functional alcoholic to just dysfunctional. won’t get out of bed unless it’s to get a drink. won’t think about anything but when he’s gonna get his next drink. he’s also one of the mercs that the team is a little more curt with their support of, because he is the one with an active addiction. and they enable it, for the most part. as long as it’s not affecting everyone else. the second it starts affecting others they put him in mann co rehab. it seems harsh, but he just doesn’t respond to kindness in these situations. it is a green light for him to keep doing exactly what he’s doing.

heavy: teeth grit and stiff upper lip. there’s only so many times he can vocalize he is aching before that voice in his head says “they don’t care.” and it only takes one time of that voice entering the back of his mind that he just shuts down. and the kicker is, he thinks he’s going about his day business as usual. he thinks he’s doing such a good job of keeping to himself, but still being kind, still being friendly. he is so confident until the team forcibly places themselves in the man’s vicinity, and physically show him they’re here for him. and he can’t shoo them all away at once, which is what he’s been doing anytime anyone has approached him. they’ll all sit together quietly. maybe get close enough to give him a hug if they have the gumption for that, at least they let him know he’s a vital member of the team. eventually heavy will open up with what’s weighing on him. or he won’t. either way, he feels a lot less alone. and that voice goes away. if only for a moment.

engineer: he argues. everything is an argument and if he really feels like nothing matters he’s picking physical fights. and nobody handles that well, coming from dell. nobody really considers that maybe he’s going through it. it’s very hard to maintain sympathy when he’s actively asking “what are you gonna do about that” because he’s actively getting aggressive. snipes, heavy, and spy have found decent enough ways to circumvent him when he’s in these moods, or they will just walk away. scout and medic will indulge him in a fight. if he wants to play that game and get his shit rocked to feel like he’s being heard then hey, dell conagher, put your dukes up. we still love you, but go ahead and come catch these hands. it doesn’t make him feel better. and if actually fighting doesn’t make him feel better, pyro’s schtick is absolutely ridiculous. pyro does not do well with engie being mean to them, at all. and will give him a big ass thumbs down, shaking their head. and it makes engie feel worse. he gets so mad at himself. he just can’t do anything right.

medic: medic’s breaking point is interesting in the sense that he will lose his shit the absolute second his mind starts moving faster than his body. the doctor is constantly moving a mile a minute; both mentally and physically. he is a man of immediacy. and he’s always running through his plans down to the minute detail, ensuring he hasn’t skipped a thing. if he’s speaking, and he stutters on a word, he is fully derailed. and the person he’s speaking to has to die. he’s sorry, you just have to die. nobody can know he has ADHD. and he knows that it’s just a stupid thing that pushes him to the edge so quickly. it’s embarrassing, it’s annoying, and it’s so small. but that one small thing reminds him that he is flawed. flawed, and very dumb. this happens most often when he’s arguing, particularly against scout. scout just talks too fast. and he’ll entertain it, momentarily, but the second scout starts doing that keyboard smash talk medic knows it’s time to back out. it’s either time to back out or kill that rat bastard. and if he can’t back out, his mind will eventually blank. and all he can think is “he has to die.”

sniper: business as usual. it doesn’t matter how he really feels, his behaviors don’t change, but what he says does. his face is normally set in one of four expressions, and he shuffles through the same five phrases. “all good, mate!” “doin alright!” “meh.” “rough day.” “not today.” but if you ask him why he’s feeling the way he’s feeling, he’ll take a moment to think about it, then he just shrugs. just the way he’s feeling today, he guesses. unless you are there to witness his mood change, up or down, in real time, he’s not gonna know or consider why he feels that way. he just knows he feels that way. which is fine, because he’s gotten good at sitting in discomfort. he’s good at sitting with hard feelings. he just has issue moving through them. he should maybe start keeping journals, because if he knew what causes his mood to make switches like this, maybe he could start looking for the support he needs in those areas.

spy: spy reaches the breaking point so rarely that when he does it’s absolutely frightening. it is a tornado forming in front of your eyes that you’re not going to be able to outrun. he’s generally very controlled when it comes to his emotions. he’s never willingly put himself in positions where he hasn’t accounted and planned for every single thing that could go wrong. but there comes a moment when he snaps. his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath, and as his eyes open his face has twisted into a look of pure rage. it is not enough to cuss you out in english. it is not enough to cuss you out in french. it’s not enough to shake you by your collar. he might actually reach across the table and strangle you. he might actually break your kneecaps. he might set your shit on fire. he might drive you off a cliff in your own car. he’s so annoyed, so frustrated, so genuinely angry that the higher brain functions telling him don’t be stupid is tossed directly out of the window. he was nice enough for long enough. it’s time to meet you where you’re at.

[jjsloverre]

need you

in which… babydaddy!jj finds out you’ve been going to your doctor appointments alone, and decided he’d step up for you even if you didn’t realize you needed him.

contains… angst, cursing, arguing, (reader is kinda being a brat), mentions of abuse, fluff (inspired by this) -ty anon (not proofread)

__________________________________________________________

hurt. he felt utterly hurt. jj knew you both haven’t been working things out like you should’ve. for example, jj sleeping with other women when you needed him, you purposely flirting with guys just to make him jealous, it was a whole mess.

jj thought he was doing good. he took you out, cuddled you, and all the good stuff but it just wasn’t enough.

while jj and kiara were talking, she accidentally slipped up how you’ve been going to all of your doctor appointments all alone. “yeah and she like decided that you wouldn’t sign the birth certificate or whatever.” that made jj snap. “fuck that! i want to be in my child’s life and not even some bitter baby mama is gonna stop me!”

“jj stop!” kiara pleaded. “she’s going through a lot, right now she needs support, even if she doesn’t accept it.” she paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “maybe… maybe you should just try and go to the appointment with her? she’d be extremely upset at first but as much as she tried to deny it, she needs you jj.”

“doesn’t fuckin seem like it.” jj mumbled.

the truth was, jj missed you dearly. he missed holding you and your baby, peppering your faces with kisses, and even cooking you breakfast when you were too tired. and even though he wanted to desperately be stubborn, he knew you needed him and so did his child. he got into his car and sped to your house.

once jj got there, he politely knocked on the door, bracing you to yell at him. you opened the door, beautiful as ever jj thought. he always found you naturally beautiful. “what jj?” he sighed, taking her hands into his calloused ones. “hi beautiful, i just.. just let me in. we need to talk.”

you shook your head. “i don’t want to talk.”

jj shoved himself into your home, and gently dragging you to the couch. he sat you on his lap, you squirmed and tried to kick him but he held you in place. “stop fucking moving and be a fucking adult y/n! i’m sick of this childish shit! i’m trying alright? i’m trying to be a better dad, a better man for our child, a better fucking man for you and your stubborn ass just won’t fucking let me! why not? why wouldn’t you give me a chance?”

“stop fucking yelling!”

“i’ll stop when you get it through your thick ass brain you fucking hurt me! you hurt me every time you go to a fucking doctors appointment and i can’t be there for you! you hurt me every time you talk about not letting be in my child’s life! you fucking hurt me every time you beat me down and make me feel like i’m my dad and i’m fucking not! i want to be your boyfriend! i wanna be your fuckin’ husband one day and raise our child together! i just.. fuck y/n i just wanna see you and make you happy. it’s all i want…”

jj’s heart broke when tears welled in your eyes. you were about to speak until jj shushed you and let you cry in his arms. “cuss me out, hit me or whatever. i had no right to yell at you or cuss at you. i’m sorry i’m frustrated and this pregnancy shit is really stressing me out. but i want to be with you and i mean that ok?”

“okay..” you whispered, your tears flowing down your cheeks.

jj rubbed your stomach lovingly as he rubbed your aching back. “can we come to an agreement?” you nod. “let me be the dad i know i can be. let me be the dad i need to be for our baby.” you nod again, not trusting yourself to speak. “how about.. i take you shopping? we can get you some new clothes and some stuff for the baby?” he asked.

“we don’t know the gender yet though..” you finally managed to say.

“i know, it was an excuse to put a smile on that beautiful face you have.”

“i’ve already gotten some things on my own though”

jj’s face fell as he registers your words. he should’ve been the one paying for everything. he quickly pushed the pain down and spoke soothingly. “it’s ok, we can get more and get anything you want.”

“jj… i’m doing you wrong y’know? i’ve been trying to make other people the dad because.. i just- i really don’t want my kid to i dunno be like you or you continue to hurt me..” you confessed, knowin it would break jj’s heart to pieces. but surprisingly he understood. “i get it, i’m damn near a bum, but my promise to you is that i will be better for you, for our baby, for everyone if you’ll let me. and i swear to my life i won’t take you for granted, how about i stay over and we can really talk? tell me what’s on your mind, all of it.”

you hesitated, it would probably be the most difficult conversation you and jj would ever have, but for your baby and his promise, you had to try. “fine… let’s talk jj.”

“ok cool!” he picked you up and walked you to your room, settling you both on the bed. “i’m sorry about our messages and shit… i felt terrible for the way i spoke to you. and even if you don’t admit it, i know it really hurt you and i need to make it up to you ok? let me love you baby.”

“you don’t know how to love jj!” you snap back.

you felt the tears flooding your eyes, and before you knew it; jj laid you on his chest and rubbed you while you let the tears flow. “i-i fucking hate you.” you manage to mumble out. but he just kisses your head “i don’t want you to hate me, i want you to love me.” your eyes flew open, blinking the tears away. he wants you to love him? why you? why you out of all girls? is it because you’re pregnant? “you can get love from any other bitch, why me?”

“first off, don’t put yourself in a bitch category ever. and second i’ve always liked you, the ‘no pouge on pouge macking’ just i don’t know fucked me up a bit and i starting sleeping with random girls to get my mind off you. but i’m done running away, i got yo you pregnant and i need to be here for you and my baby.”

“you’re just bluffing.” you sniffle. “i wouldn’t be holding you and lettin you cry in my arms if i was bluffing. i’m in this for the long run baby. i want you for life, you and our baby. i don’t want to miss out on any more doctors appointments or any of that.” he explained to you, in the most sincere way he could. “now give me some kisses pretty.” he pleaded softly. “fuck you jj!” you scream.

“baby, please calm down. please just let me hold you and i’ll leave you alone.” he pleaded softly once more. he placed a hand on your growing belly, rubbing you and your little one to sleep. “it’s ok sweet girl, i’m here… i’m always here for you.” you finally succumbed to the sleep and let jj hold you. “i love you baby. i love you so much and i love our child too, i hope you’re ready for our adventure, i’m excited for every step.” jj whispered once you went to sleep. not even realizing he almost confessed his love to you while you were awake.

jj carefully laid the both of you on the bed, and stripped your clothes off and put you in your favorite onesie, and laid back down beside you. “cmon baby, how you feelin?” you reluctantly snuggled against him, and stayed silent for a few moments. “feeling okay. now stop with the sappy stuff, i still don’t like you.” you say, your voice slurring with sleep.

the morning creeped in, you stir awake and you see him. the beautiful jj maybank, curled into your arms like he was afraid you’d leave. eventually his nightmare would come true, you would leave. but for right now, he’s making you happy, a sense of peace. he’s loving you just like he promised, the love you always deserved. jj laid awake and looked at you. “hi baby.”

“hi.” he rubbed your stomach to soothe your stress. “you really are an amazing human, and i’m so glad to be right here, holding you.” he pulled you up for some kisses, giving you time to pull away. when you didn’t, he leaned in for a kiss. the kiss was short and sweet, the most whole hearted kiss you both ever shared.

“lose all the hoes.” you said sternly. “and i’m fucking serious. if i even hear a bitch mention your name i’m done with you. do you understand?” jj nodded, handing you his phone. “have a ball baby. delete all the contacts and shit you want. from now on, i’m all yours and i want that too.” you took his phone, and deleted damn near every girl in his contacts. “are you sleeping with kie?” you ask. jj looked at you a little confused. confused why you would think he’s sleeping with kiara out of all people, confused on where she even came from, overall confused about what kiara told you. “kiara? no… why would i sleep with kie? isn’t she dating pope?”

boom. lying. “i fucking knew it! fuck you jj get out!” jj looked at you even more confused, the truth was, kiara wanted him and tried to sleep with him but he rejected her… to be with you. but he didn’t want to tell you, kie was your best friend and he’d rather you hate him than hate the girl that’s always been there for you. “uh baby? just check our messages, we haven’t talked at all. check anything you want or i don’t know something just believe me on this. i didn’t do anything with her.” you started to cry and hit him. “i fucking hate you!” you started to hit jj even more on a particular bruise he was trying to hide. “ok baby shit! quit it!” he screamed at you and forcefully stopped your hands. “stop fucking hitting me dammit!”

you stopped your movements, jj was dead serious this time. “i’m sorry…” you whispered, laying your head on his chest. “i’m so sorry. you have another one don’t you?” he didn’t answer, he just held the spot, away from you. “jj i’m sorry please..” you whimpered. “it’s alright. you’re mad and i get that.” jj said firmly. he didn’t even look at you. that’s when you realized you really did hurt him. “hop up. i gotta get home. old man hasn’t ate and he gets cranky and shit.” you stopped him as he tried to lift you up. “n-no… i need you.”

“sorry y/n but you gotta wait for a bit.” you couldn’t let him go. you couldn’t. you used all of your body weight to keep him down. “get the fuck up dude!” you held him in place. “you have to stay. stay with me. your dad only hurts you and-” jj cut you off. “you hurt me too, doesn’t matter now get up.”

“i’m sorry jayj. if you stay again i’ll be better.” you had to do right by him. kie was right about one thing. he is the sweetest human on this earth. “fine. but shut up about kiara or any other girl you think i’m sleeping with.” you nod, and lay down on his chest again.

“don’t ever hit me again.” jj whispered. it’s the most serious he’s ever been, you could feel the tension in the air. you really hated it. the fear in his eyes, the pain on his face… it was a sight you never wanted to see again. “i’m sorry for hitting you. can i see please?” he shook his head. “you ain’t give me the bruise so it ain’t your business.”

he was being rude, he couldn’t help it. you nodded, and turned your head away from him so he wouldn’t notice your tears. it was hard. you both couldn’t ever get on the right page anymore, it was starting to get too draining. suddenly, you feel a strong hand coming up to caress your head. “i’m sorry sweetheart. didn’t mean to make you cry.” you nuzzled your face into his chest, letting him calm you back to sleep. “i’ll wake you up in an hour and we can go shopping for some baby things. diapers and shit, then some breakfast.”

“breakfast first.” you said, your stomach stsrt to growl. “i want first watch.” you finish off. jj smiles and kisses your cheeks. “first watch it is then mama. take another nap then we’ll get ready.”

“okay, and i’m sorry for everything.”

“i’m sorry too.”

“ultrasound in 3 weeks, be there?”

“don’t gotta tell me twice. i’m there mama, always.” with that, jj peppered your face with those sweet kisses and let you fall back to sleep.

__________________________________________________________

a/n: THEY FINALLY MADE UPPPPP (for now) and this is a longggg one so hope u enjoy!

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @sophand4n4 @ethanthequeefqueen @aaliyahsturniolo @masongetinmybed @kieeslove @bee-43 @eddxemxnson @always-reading @leaseyes @slut4rafecameronn @maybankslover @sttaejoon-blog @glitterybombshell @imsiriuslyreal @coalicionees @sturnioloenthousiast @superlegend216

more babydaddy!jj x pouge!reader here!

[disaster-writer]

Uncovered Part 3

Alpha!Bakugo x Omega!Reader

A/N: surprise! Have another part today

Summary: Alpha!Bakugo finds out that you’ve secretly been an Omega all this time

Part 1 Part 2

Bakugo stood with his fist poised, ready to knock on the front door to your apartment— that was until he dropped his hand to the side for the umpteenth time that night.

”Fuck— this is so fucking stupid,” he growled, yearning to just punch a goddamn hole in the wall and just leave already.

It was late anyway, you were probably asleep by now. He could just come back tomorrow morning.

He took a step back and turned… that’s what he’ll do, he’ll come back tomorrow morning before you’re meant to report to the agency for work—

He stopped. 

“FUCK—“ Bakugo slammed his fist hard against your front door three times. 

After a few beats he was greeted with the door being swung open and you standing exasperated on the other side.

Almost immediately you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “No. Go home—“ you went to shut the door but Bakugo shoved his foot in the door before you could.

”We need to talk,” He muttered gruffly, peering down at you with hard eyes.

Your nostrils flared as you stared back up at him with an indignant look, “I have nothing to say to you—“

”Have you been crying?” The words flew past his lips as he took in your appearance. You were dressed in pajamas, no doubt already in bed for the night when he came, and your eyes were swollen and watery as if you had just finished sobbing your eyes out.

You huffed, “Go. Home.”

The two of you stared each other down for another moment before Bakugo forced himself forward and shoved himself inside, throwing you off balance and stumbling backwards, unable to stop him.

Bakugo glanced around your apartment. It was nice— expensive. It was expected of a hero of your notoriety, but even more so due to the fact you were a legacy hero. He wouldn’t lie, despite being relatively close friends ever since Raccoon Eyes all but adopted you into the group during first year, he always did chalk you up to just being another rich kid from another long line of heroes that got everything handed to them on a silver platter. 

He realized with faint recognition that this was the first time he had set foot in your place. You never invited anyone over, always assuming you just liked your privacy but now… he was sure it was more than that.

Bakugo heard the click of the door shutting behind him, followed by a defeated sigh.

“Why are you here Bakugo?” You asked, clearly exhausted, walking past him and deeper into the apartment as you made your way to the kitchen.

”Hah?” He sneered incredulously, following in tow, “You’re really going to ask me that after what happened this afternoon?” 

“I’ve been watching the news all day— you haven’t told anyone yet,” you muttered, reaching the top of your fridge for a bottle of sake.

”Of course I didn’t tell dumbass.”

You threw him a resentful glance over your shoulder, “Well why not?” You spat before unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig before finally seating yourself down at the kitchen island.

Bakugo rounded the island, slamming his hands down on the counter across from you, “How low do you think I am—?”

Your head snapped up, locking your gaze with his once more, ”Pretty fucking low considering I found you going through my shit!— I mean, who even does that!? What were you even trying to find—“

”You’re changing the subject!” Bakugo rushed, ears tinging pink knowing the truth of why he even looked in the first place was embarrassing enough. 

There was a pregnant pause before you finally rolled your eyes and took another swig— it didn’t even matter at this point did it? Your life may as well be over anyway… 

“What do you want?” You finally sighed, resigned to whatever the rest of this interaction was going to be.

”I want to understand,” he replied, more even and controlled than his previous outbursts, “How have you hid this for so long? —And who else knows about you.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, fingering the rim of your sake bottle in thought. “Why should I even tell you?” 

”I’m not going to say anything.”

“That is until you change your mind.”

”I won’t.” He hissed, “I’m not going to get your license revoked— now will you just answer me.”

You continued to remain silent, making him huff in frustration.

”The cold.”

Your eyes slid to his, confusion painting your face, “What?”

”The cold,” he reiterated, clearly annoyed, “It’s my main weakness.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I already know that—“

”I’m just saying— if I tell… then you tell. I have a lot of enemies that would pay for that kinda information.”

You were quiet once more, eyeing him and weighing his words. His own gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in your seat. Bakugo was many things but you never really knew him to go back on his word…

”You’re the only one other than my family, doctor, and trainer that knows,” you sighed, taking a swig, “That’s how we’ve kept it secret, parents that hired a doctor and trainer to mix up the perfect cocktail of drugs and regimens to pass me off as an Alpha. That and a whole lot of hush money.” You muttered sarcastically.

”Why?”

”Why?” You scoffed, “Because I’m a (Y/L/N). We don’t have Omegas, everyone in my family has been born an Alpha and then has trained to become a hero for generations.”

”But you guys do have an Omega.”

You shot him a glare, “Yeah, I’m well aware asshole.”

”So what? Making you a hero was going to somehow save your family name?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is. And I was doing a fine job of it too until you decided to stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Bakugo finally took a seat, “You all actually think you can keep this a secret?” He asked incredulously.

You quirked a brow, “I am.”

He pursed his lips… technically that was true, but more so because it would have been unthinkable that an Omega would have managed to get as far as you have in this field. 

Honestly it was a goddamn miracle you even managed to get into class 1-A to begin with. 

If it wasn’t for that he probably would have believed you were at least a Beta if not an Omega, especially as your scent gave no indication…

Bakugo perked up, “Why don’t you smell like an Omega?”

“Drugs,” you shrugged, “My brothers also scent me to mask whatever’s left.”

”And what about—“ heats, Bakugo caught himself before he could say it, the realization hitting him over the head like a ton of bricks. You experience heats. A blush spread across his cheeks, mind suddenly clouded by images of you locked away in your bedroom  and—

“What about what?” You asked him impatiently, “Are we done here yet? You already get the gist and if I still have a job in the morning then I need to go to bed now.”  You stood up, rounding the kitchen island back towards the front door with Bakugo following behind hesitantly. He still had so many questions but was suddenly and actually aware that you were an Omega… he had never been very tactful around Omegas before.

You stood by the now open door, waiting for him to leave.

And so he did, but not before you stopped him with one final thing left to say. You had stopped him with a grip on his bicep, peering up at him with serious eyes, “You need to be aware of how you treat me in public going forward. If you start pulling some Alpha bullshit and favoring me on missions or doting on me in front of our friends I will make sure every one of your enemies finds out Dynamight can’t handle the cold. Understood?”

He bared his teeth and in a low whisper said, “Don’t get such a big head— you’re still an extra to me.” 

With that he had tugged his arm from your grasp and headed out.

He would never admit that what you had said was exactly what had been weighing on his mind since he found the pill bottle.

[meansevika]

— this fandom has a vast misogynoirist problem and, yes, this also applies to YOU reading this right now; a post filled w unsorted thoughts you should read if you genuinely want black fans to feel safe in fandom spaces with you

i am going to preface this right away w how disappointed i am in some of the people who follow me, who will occasionally like a post calling out misogynoir but only if its comfortable and only if its worded nicely and only if its against someone they dislike and not someone they do like. i am directly talking to my non-black followers because i do not expect black fans to expose themselves to this kind of hatred and thinly (and not so thinly) veiled racism we are faced w on a daily basis. some of you have a big following and a big portion of that following is white and YOU have the opportunity to use your POWER (and, yes, even in fandoms there are different power dynamics because logging onto twitter dot com does not remove the burden of blackness within overtly white spaces, this too is a space where having white privileges will get you places) and talk about these issues that have been becoming more and more prevalent.

our voices are not heard and when they are heard they get twisted by white and non-black fans who prioritize their love for shipping and their male centeredness over racism within fandom and more importantly: racism that is perpetuated by them. a very loud portion of this fandom has painted an image of "angry black women" without ever actually calling them black women because they are socially aware enough to know that it is racist to say so. instead they say it in different ways: they call us rabid, they call us delusional, they call us homophobic straights and love to strip us of our queerness in the same breath, they call us ableists even though this fandom has had several conversations about this, they call us aggressive, they say we are jealous of a mlm ship, they say we are irrational, they call us everything but the one thing we are: black. yet the painted picture is very clear to me and surely every other black person who has ever engaged dominantly white spaces: the big black bully! this is the easiest way to "aggressive black woman" your way through genuine critcism without ever saying it w those words nor acknowledging the thing you are criticized for.

and it becomes even more obvious when you read-over and over again-those attempts at demonizing an overtly black part of fandom (which mel/meljay fandom is and which i will come back to later) while NONE ever mention the things black people ARE saying because whenever you get ratioed for cuck art, whenever you get asked why you erase mel from the story, whenever people ask where mel is in arcane character group arts, whenever you mischaracterize mel for a mlm ship, whenever you strip her of her feelings, whenever you make her an abuser, whenever you dehuminaze her, whenever you deify her, whenever you cry that you cannot criticize her yet dont ever criticize her outside of that ship you so like, whenever any of this happens black fans HAVE and WILL tell you that this is antiblack, its misogynistic, but most of all-since a word for this phenomenon already exists-it is misogynoir. you are participating in misogynoir. your every like is supporting misogynoir. the active erasure of a black woman in fandom is misogynoir. whenever you strip black fans of their credibility to speak out against racism bc we are just "crazy shippers on an agenda", that is misogynoir too. people who arent in this fandom have been clocking this. they see us saying this. they avoid watching the show or engaging w this fandom because the misogynoir is so prevalent here and it is unchallenged by everyone but black people and a few allys who actually mean their shit when they talk about allyship.

the rest of you barely skim our texts or just go "well im not racist so this doesnt apply to me" instead of listening to us trying to explain what the issue is. you guys are so sure that you are a good ally, that you arent racist, that nothing you do is ever misogynoirist, yet you dont even realize that you dismiss or even silence black voices you dont like by villainizing every black fan who wants to talk about this and uplifting every black person who says the things you want to hear. to the point that a black user here can use the hard r and white people are trying to educate black people why that is okay or isnt okay. all while that person even apologized and had to tell you guys to not speak over black people in defense of them. do you not see that you are tokenizing the black voices you deem comfortable while ignoring every voice that asks for a little bit of accountability in your contribution to the horrid antiblackness on arcanetwt?

but, no, no, rest assured this doesnt just apply to the fans but to the character in question too after all there is a reason why meltwt/meljaytwt is so outspoken on this. it isnt about her partner being shipped w someone else, most of us dont even care for the ship, our issue is the constant attempt at erasing her from the relationship she was in and those are two completely different things even if you blatantly choose to look the other way and fabricate lies. mel medarda, despite always being spoken about as beautiful and complex and such a great character, so far even that people say they want her to leave jayce so they can have her for herself, has a very small following. she has less fics on ao3 than the others, barely any x reader ship despite so many people claiming to shipping themselves with her, she gets less solo art and even less w other people or her canonical ship. she is constantly being othered. just recently we had someone exclude her from group art and saying she was the teacher while her same aged peers were drawn as students. to many she simply doesnt exist and if you care about mel, if you actually do like her, if you seek out her content, this becomes abundantly clear real quick: mel does not exist as a main character to arcanetwt.

she is a side character to many of you. she is a side character like any other black women in fiction because you as fans were conditioned by young age to view black women as that. you are surrounded by the sassy black best friend, the angry black woman, the disposable black girlfriend who will always just be a temporary love interest, side character a and side character b - you grew up in a world where you view black women like that. that is why her fandom is so small. just like any other black female characters are small. no other main character gets this type of treatment other than her. and that her fandom is so small is just another indicator for that. and that it mostly consists of black fans is another indicator too because those very often are the only ones capable to see a black woman as a character in herself and not just a nice compliment in a sentence in between. this, too, is misogynoir btw and saying "well i just prefer this and this character" only works so many times before you gotta put the work in and question your racial bias and i am telling you YOU HAVE TO to OVERCOME that and i am telling you that because i too used to not care about black female characters.

i grew up in a very white society and was one of those kids who were trying to be as white as possible to cater to white ppl and i had to actively unlearn to ignore dark skinned women in any media and woah let me tell you once you do you realize there are so many beautiful characters to obsess over and so many new people to meet and it WILL change your view on a lot of things in fandom and it will make you AWARE and that is a good thing. you should be woke. being woke is a good thing no matter how many people say it isnt. its just nobody can do this for you but you yourself. you will see the mistreatment of fans and you will get angry about this and you will get uncomfortable too bc you might be nonblack you might even be white but that is just what it is and how its going to be and i appeal to you to be loud w us as well, to fight for a fandom space where white fans arent the only ones who get to enjoy sillies and whimsicals, where we can move and have fun w/o being confronted w unchallenged racism and people being too proud to work on their biases or even take any critcism, i beg you to not gaf about aesthetics and what you want your blog to look like and i beg you to not gaf about what your peers might think of you bc trust me you do not want to be the person belittling antiblackness for the sake of getting a few likes on an art piece where two people you like smooch.

this affects real black people even if arcanetwt wants to say we arent real or dont care about black issues. this is a black issue just like it'd be w any recreational activity

[lostmyself-whenilostyou]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐆𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟐

"𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇, "𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜, 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒?

𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒? 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒?" "

Pairing: Kang Dae Ho/388 x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death

Word count:1,100

You sat in your bed still, fidgeting with your hands as you heard some people talk a couple of beds away from you, discussing  what the next game could be with the man that apparently was a previous winner of this game. You looked over to their side as soon as you heard a familiar voice. As you turned to see you saw Dae Ho standing there with the small crowd of people, asking what the next game would be. From what you could overhear they said to pick the triangle shape, you didn't know what for but you'd be sure to keep that in mind just in case. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you saw Dae Ho looking back at you, you didn't even realize you were staring at him, too caught up in your thoughts to notice until you felt his gaze on you. You looked away as quickly as you could while blushing. You stayed with your head down, playing with your own hands nervously as you heard a voice beside you. You looked up, slowly opening your eyes hoping it wouldn't be Dae ho. You let out a defeated and annoyed sigh as you saw it was him, his nervous smile quickly dropping as he saw your annoyed expression. “Listen, I'm sorry. I-... The money wasn't enough for me yet…” He explained as he looked down, unable to look at you for some reason. You sighed again. “It's fine, we just met so there’s no reason why I should have trusted you anyway.” You said while looking down at your hands. “You can trust me.” He said sheepishly and you looked up at him from where you sat. “And how am I supposed to know if you’re telling the truth?” You asked with interrogation in your tone. “Well I did save your life…” He said with a slight smile. That was true. He had saved your life, but he risked it now by voting to play one more game. “Look, just stick with me? We can protect each other for one more game and then leave. Besides, I've already made friends with the previous winner, so I'm quite the catch huh?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes but inside you knew he was right, you still didn't trust him but it would benefit you to stick with him, and even if your mind was telling you not to trust him, you couldn't shake off that the way he chuckled, the way he looked at you, and the way he smiled slightly gave you a unknown  warm feeling that scared you slightly. But you pushed that away for now as you nodded, knowing it would benefit you to stick with him and the apparent team he made. “Fine. I’ll trust you for now.” You said hesitantly, your voice almost a whisper. “Great. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mr.456.” He stuck out his hand for you to take. You stood up off your bed and walked past him, ignoring how the small gesture made your heart flutter. He sighed and put his hand back at his side as he walked with you, stopping in front of his now ´team´.  You looked at them nervously and smiled as Dae Ho spoke up. “This is…” He trailed off as he turned to look at you. “Sorry, earlier you never got to give me your name.” He smiled at you. You looked back at him with a neutral expression, still skeptical about him. “It's y/n.” You told him. “Ah.” He looked back at 456 and the other two men, 001 and 390. “This is miss y/n.” He told them with a smile as he placed a hand on your shoulder. You tensed slightly, but your heart skipped a beat at the small touch. 

As you now had a little group of five, the man who you later learned was named Gi-hun told the group you should take turns to sleep and keep watch in case something goes wrong in the night. Now it was your turn to watch while the others slept. You were nodding off as you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. You flinched, startled as you turned around and calmed down once you saw it was Dae Ho. “Shit, you scared me.” You sighed out in relief with a hand on your chest. “Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at you as he sat down next to you. “Cant sleep?” You asked. “Nope, can't keep my eyes shut.” He sighed. “Well then.” You cleared your throat. “Your turn to watch.” You said as you stood up, but you felt his hand grab yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “Stay? I don't like to be alone.” He mumbled out the last part as you saw a flick of vulnerability on his face, even in the dark room. You rolled your eyes slightly, not liking how his hand on yours made you feel, but sat back down next to him without saying a word. “So, Y/N, how did you end up here?”  He asked silently. “Uh, well… Same reason as everyone I guess, I’ve got debts to pay.” You shrugged. “Yeah, but there's gotta be more to you than just that.” He chuckled, “I don't really think there is.” You scoffed lightly.  “Bummer… The pretty ones are always boring..” You scoffed, “I am not boring.” You looked at him “Well then prove it.” His face moved closer to yours. “Uhh… How exactly?” You stuttered. “Well… Boring girls don’t kiss guys so maybe…” He trailed off as he leaned his face closer to yours. Your heart sped up at the closeness and you found yourself blushing and subconsciously leaning in until your lips touched his and everything else around you disappeared. The kiss was slow and passionate as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, you let out a noise of surprise and he chuckled against your lips. You suddenly heard someone clear their throat behind you both. You gasped and instantly pulled away from Dae Ho’s lips, blushing furiously as you saw Gi Hun standing there, looking rather amused. “Just thought I’d come see if you guys were tired.” He smirked lightly “ Uh.. Well yeah I think I'm gonna go to sleep.. Uh yeah…” You stuttered over your words as you couldn't even look at either of them in the eyes. Even though you felt Dae Ho staring at you as you left  to go to bed, you did not look back, too embarrassed.

Hey guys so I got logged out but I had this already written sorry it took me so fucking long but I could not remember the password to this acc for the life of me anyway here u go another shitty Dae Ho fic🤍

Tag list: @kawakiseyes

[dulcescorderitas]

05

parings: married!deanwinchester x married!reader (+ sam)

synopsis: cooking

the kitchen was already a disaster. flour dusted the countertops like a crime scene outline, and a bottle of olive oil had tipped over, creating a slick, shimmering puddle on the wooden surface. the smell of garlic and onions filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of burnt something—probably whatever dean had been in charge of.

"i told you, babe, this is why takeout exists," dean grumbled, flicking a piece of raw chicken at you. it hit your arm with a cold, wet slap.

"jesus, dean!" you yelped, shoving him in the chest. he barely budged, just grinning like an idiot, dimples and all.

"you two are impossible," sam muttered, rolling his eyes as he expertly diced an onion. his knife skills were alarmingly precise, which only made dean more suspicious.

"yeah, okay, gordon ramsey, we get it, you know how to cut shit. but can you do this?" dean attempted to twirl a knife between his fingers, only for it to slip and clatter onto the floor. you sighed. sam sighed louder.

"real smooth," you muttered, picking up the knife before dean could impale himself. "if we actually wanna eat tonight, maybe we should focus."

"focus is for nerds," dean declared, leaning over to steal a sip from your beer. you smacked his hand away.

"you have your own, dumbass."

"yeah, but yours always tastes better. kinda like how you always steal my fries."

sam ignored the both of you, setting the chopped onions into a sizzling pan. the butter hissed, and for a moment, it actually smelled promising. that moment passed quickly.

dean, having been left in charge of seasoning the chicken, had apparently gone feral with the spice rack. the second the pieces hit the heat, an acrid, eye-watering cloud of burnt paprika and chili powder filled the room.

"oh, hell no," you coughed, waving a hand in front of your face. "dean, what did you put in there?"

"i dunno, some of that red shit," he answered, barely concerned, peering into the pan as if offended that his creation wasn’t behaving properly. "it looked right."

"you just threw in spices like you were summoning a demon, didn’t you?" sam accused.

"hey, if i was summoning anything, it’d be a pizza delivery guy, ‘cause this ain’t workin’." dean grabbed the pan handle, but immediately hissed and dropped it back onto the stove. "son of a—who the hell made this pan lava-proof?"

"it's called heat, dumbass," you snorted, but the joke was cut short when the smoke alarm started blaring.

"aw, come on!" dean groaned, grabbing a towel to fan the smoke away. "we got this under control!"

"do we?" sam asked dryly, as you rushed to open a window. the sound was piercing, and it was only a matter of time before someone (probably a very annoyed neighbor) complained.

"alright, screw this," you said, tossing the ruined pan into the sink with a dramatic clatter. "i'm calling it—pizza and beer."

"now we're talkin’," dean grinned, already reaching for his phone. "see, this is why i married you. you get me."

"yeah, yeah, just order before i change my mind and make you eat the chicken."

sam just shook his head, stepping around the mess as if it personally offended him. "i swear, cooking with you two is like watching a disaster movie in slow motion."

"yeah, but we make it look good, right?" dean winked at you, still smug despite the failure.

"you know what else looks good?" dean leaned in, voice dropping into a husky murmur. "you, bent over this counter, covered in flour, with me showing you how to properly handle raw meat."

"oh my god," sam groaned, throwing down the spatula. "can we go ten minutes without you turning everything into a porno?"

"hey, i'm just saying, cooking’s a very sensual activity. lotta kneading, lotta poundin—"

"i will stab you," you deadpanned, brandishing a fork. "not in the fun way."

sam rubbed his temples like he was reconsidering every life choice that led him here. "i don't get paid enough for this."

"you don't get paid at all," dean shot back. "you just hang around, all tall and judgy, pretending you don’t enjoy our company."

"it's not pretending if it's true," sam muttered.

"see, babe?" dean turned back to you, grinning. "this is why you gotta appreciate me more. i'm the fun brother."

"you're something, alright," you muttered, shaking your head.

finally, after much more unnecessary bickering, the pizza arrived. beers were popped open, and the three of you collapsed onto the couch, the kitchen a war zone of spices, flour, and regret.

"y'know," dean said around a mouthful of pizza, "we should do this again sometime."

"we absolutely should not," sam and you answered in perfect unison.

and that, of course, just made dean laugh harder.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 4

Bucky x reader

Warnings: ok now they really hate each other, really angsty part and a lot of swearing (again)

Summary: A not so nice morning in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky

A/N: I couldn’t wait any longer haha so enjoy this part :)

Masterlist

Five months. Five months of avoiding each other like the plague. And when we do run into each other? Jesus Christ, even Captain America himself would bolt from the room.

Barnes has gotten a little more… how do I put it? Confident. In the wrong way. About three months ago, he was still trying to talk to me, still trying to convince me—just like everyone else. But I wouldn’t give in. I would never forgive him. Maybe after all this time, it seems childish, but I didn’t care. I stood firmly on my ground.

And once everyone realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, that’s when things started heating up. Barnes was starting to get so cocky. The worse my remarks got, the more he started snapping back at me. I could see I was driving him insane—not that it was my intention. I just didn’t want to see him. But since he was already there, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing sharp comments his way. Until, finally, he had enough and started fighting back.

“Fuck, Sam, I swear I tried everything. But she wouldn’t even let me get a word in. I’m so done with this. Guess some amends just can’t be made.”

I walked into the kitchen with every intention of ignoring Barnes and making myself a great breakfast.
“Morning, Wilson.”
“Hey, Y/L/N.”

I could tell Sam was uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop him from asking a stupid question.
“So, Bucky and I were about to go for a run. Do you wanna join us?”

Oh God. Pathetic.

Barnes practically choked on his coffee, barely stopping himself from suffocating (what a shame that would be).

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let him outside. He might ‘accidentally’ run over someone and then claim he was forced to do it.”

Oh, I knew that one was going to hurt. But it rolled off my tongue so sweetly that I couldn’t stop myself.

Barnes threw his cup against the wall. Sam flinched slightly.

“You are a cunt, you know that?”

Bucky stepped closer like he was about to throw hands. I got up immediately.

“What? You gonna kill me too now? Finally finish collecting the whole family, asshole?”

And he just stared.

Nothingness in his eyes.

I wanted it to hurt. I wanted him to feel exactly the way I did. But strangely, there was no satisfaction in seeing him suffer. It wasn’t as enjoyable as I had imagined. So much time had passed, my rage had only grown, and yet… I couldn’t put a name to that stupid feeling inside me. Oh no, it definitely wasn’t sympathy or guilt—it was just exhausting.

For the first time, I saw something in his eyes. Fear?

I didn’t care to figure it out. Not at that moment.

“Fuck you,” was all he said before leaving the kitchen.

I sat down with a small smirk but also with a hint of uncertainty (hopefully, it didn’t show).

“Um, so that went well?”

Sam, not knowing what else to do, sat down with me.

“Y/N, aren’t you tired of this?”

The bastard could actually read my mind sometimes.

“Despite everything, you two have a lot in common. He was under HYDRA, you had NEXUS. You really should—”

I couldn’t listen to him any longer.

“Despite everything? You mean the fact that he killed my sister? And HYDRA? NEXUS? We have nothing in common. I never killed anyone for someone else. No one ever controlled me like some brainless puppet!”

“Because Fury saved you! You little brat! You think you wouldn’t have done the same as him if Nick hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence.

A long, awkward silence.

I had no idea how to respond. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was right—even if he was.

“I wonder if you’d say the same thing about him if Fury hadn’t shown up back then. You need to get it together, Y/N, because everyone is tired of your shit.”

Sam stood up, looked at me, and walked out.

I couldn’t admit he was right. I couldn’t get rid of the fog in my head. That horrible memory.

I refused to back down.

The kitchen felt emptier than before.

Sam’s words hung in the air like a goddamn storm cloud, suffocating me, pressing against my chest. "Everyone is tired of your shit."

I clenched my fists. Fuck him. Fuck them all. They didn’t get it. They weren’t the ones who had to wake up every morning and remember that someone ripped their soul apart like it was nothing. They weren’t the ones who had to stand in the same room as the murderer and pretend like he was just another member of the goddamn team.

I grabbed a piece of toast and took a slow bite, staring at the shattered ceramic from Bucky’s cup still lying on the floor. Someone else could clean it up. I wasn’t going to.

The compound was quiet now, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic outside. I let myself breathe. But my hands were still shaking.

Then I heard it—the door slamming shut.

I exhaled through my nose, already knowing who it was.

“What the fuck do you want now, Barnes?”

Silence.

I turned my head slightly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked like he hadn’t cooled down one bit since storming out of here a few minutes ago.

“I’m not done talking.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn you told Sam you were done trying.”

His nostrils flared. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to feel something.

He took a step forward. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Y/N.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t? Enlighten me. Please.”

His eyes darkened. “You think you’re the only one who lost someone? You think you’re the only one who wakes up every day hating the person in the mirror?”

That caught me off guard. For a second. But I didn’t let it show.

“The difference between us, Winter Soldier?” I stood up, stepping closer until there were just inches between us. “I lost my family. You were the one pulling the goddamn trigger.”

He swallowed hard. I saw his fingers twitch—just slightly. Like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or grab something. Maybe grab me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a bitter chuckle and looked down.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was lower now. Tighter. “Every goddamn day, I think about the people I killed. I hear them screaming in my fucking head. And you?” He shook his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “You don’t even want revenge anymore. You just want something to be angry at.”

I stiffened.

He saw it. He fucking saw it, and I hated him for it.

“Go to hell, Barnes.”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Already been there, sweetheart.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, pulse racing, and for the first time in a long time—completely speechless.

[lunaswicked]

Stress Relief - J.U

Paring: roommate!Jey Uso, Fem!Reader Tags: Heavy smut, enemies to lovers, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pure lust, breeding kink, hair pulling, cervix kissing, 18+, MINORS DNI A/N: Thank you ANON for requesting this one. I had more than enough fun writing this.🩷💛 Word Count: 4.5k

There’s just something about him that pisses you off. 

Maybe it’s that damn mullet—too perfect, like he actually puts effort into keeping it that way. 

Or maybe it’s those stupid grillz that flash every time he smirks like he knows something you don’t. 

Or the way his eyes get all dark and intense whenever you're too close, like he’s waiting for you to slip up. 

And don’t even get started on the hoochie shorts—him walking around the house like he owns the place, thick thighs out, no shame whatsoever—  

“Right, Y/N?”  

You blink, brain still stuck on him, and realize Jasmine’s looking at you expectantly. Fuck. You have no idea what she just said.   

“Huh?” you mumble, scrambling. “My bad, I’m just tired.”   

Jasmine side-eyes you before clearing her throat. “I said, isn’t it Xavier’s fault and not mine? Like, he was the one who stayed up all night gaming, knowing damn well he had a test, and then had the audacity to blame me when he failed because I didn’t wake him up?”  

Classic Jasmine and Xavier. Always on some dumb shit.   

“Yeah,” you nod, finally catching up. “That’s on him. He’s his own person. Can’t blame you for his L.”

After a solid hour of Jasmine ranting about Xavier’s dumbass decisions and you half-listening while nodding at the right times, you finally make it back home. The second you step inside, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. Silence. Thank God.   

You toss your keys on the counter and kick off your shoes, already mentally preparing to crash in your room and not deal with anyone for the rest of the night—  

And then you see him.  

Jey.  

Laid out on the couch like he pays all the bills, legs spread like he owns the damn place, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, the other scrolling through his phone. His infamous hoochie shorts are front and center—gray, slightly too tight, showing way too much thigh.   

Your eye twitches.   

“You comfortable?” you deadpan, crossing your arms.  

Jey doesn’t even look up. “Mmhmm.”   

You inhale sharply through your nose, debating whether it’s worth it to start an argument tonight. Spoiler alert: it’s not.  

With a shake of your head, you step toward the hallway, but before you can make your great escape, Jey finally acknowledges you—well, more like calls you out.   

“You had a good lil date with Jasmine?” His voice is lazy, that usual cocky drawl laced with amusement.   

Your jaw clenches. “It wasn’t a date. We were just talking about some shit.”  

Jey hums like he doesn’t believe you. “Uh-huh.”   

You hate when he does that. It’s like he enjoys getting under your skin for fun.   

Rolling your eyes, you keep walking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But just as you reach your bedroom door, you hear him mumble, almost like an afterthought—  

“Didn’t even say goodnight. Rude ass.”  

Your fingers tighten around the doorknob, and for a brief second, you consider turning around, throwing a pillow at his stupid manspreading self, and telling him exactly where he can shove his passive-aggressive comments.  

But you don’t.  

Instead, you exhale, push your door open, and mutter just loud enough for him to hear—  

“Goodnight, Jey.”   

You don’t have to turn around to see his smirk. You can feel it.

After shutting the door behind you, you waste no time stripping out of your clothes and heading straight for the shower. The hot water does wonders, washing away the tension from the day, but it doesn’t completely wipe away the lingering irritation from Jey’s annoying ass.  

By the time you step out, fresh-faced and wrapped in an oversized t-shirt, your mood has mellowed slightly. You towel-dry your hair, scrolling through your phone as you step back into the living room, just to grab your notebook off the coffee table.  

And then you see it.  

An empty water bottle. On the floor.   

You freeze, eyes flickering to the plastic offender before trailing up to the culprit himself—Jey, still posted up on the couch like he’s got no worries in the world, scrolling through his phone like the place doesn’t look like a damn mess.   

"Seriously?" you scoff, arms folding across your chest. "You just gon’ leave this here like we got a maid or something?"  

Jey barely glances at you. "Man, I ain’t got time for the arguing shit tonight." His voice is lower than usual, rough around the edges. "I’m already stressed the fuck out."  

You raise an eyebrow, leaning your weight onto one hip. "Oh wow. You’re stressed? No way. I thought you were just chillin’ in those hoochie daddy shorts with not a care in the world." Your voice drips with sarcasm, and you expect him to throw something smart back, to keep up the usual banter.  

But he doesn’t.  

Instead, his jaw flexes, his thumb stopping mid-scroll on his phone screen. He lets out a slow exhale, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes slipping shut for a moment like he’s forcing himself to keep it together.  

Something shifts.  

The air gets heavier, quieter.  

"You ever have one of those days," he murmurs, voice deep and tired, "where no matter what you do, shit just don’t go right?"  

You’re not sure what it is—maybe it’s the way his voice drops, or the way his chest rises and falls like he’s carrying more weight than he wants to admit—but something makes you pause.  

Your fingers tighten around your notebook as you stare at him. "Yeah," you say after a beat, softer this time. "'Cause you ain't the only one."  

He lifts his head then, dark eyes meeting yours. For once, there’s no teasing, no cocky smirk—just something unreadable, something you’re not sure you wanna figure out.  

The tension between you thickens, stretching into the small space between the couch and where you stand.  

And then, before you can even think to move, Jey shifts, legs spreading a little more like he’s testing you, eyes flickering down to your bare legs before dragging back up to your face.  

"You stay runnin’ yo mouth," he mutters, voice just low enough to make your stomach dip.  

Your breath catches slightly, but you don’t back down. "And you stay leaving shit around like a damn child."  

His lips twitch. Not quite a smirk, but close. "You really tryna argue with me right now?"  

"You started it," you quip, gripping your notebook a little tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how the room feels smaller, how the space between you feels like nothing at all.  

Jey leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his presence pulling you in without even trying. His voice drops even lower when he says, "You sure you wanna go there?"  

Your heart kicks up. You should walk away.  

But you don’t.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at him, but it’s not your usual annoyed laugh. No, this one is softer, teasing—like you’re calling his bluff. Because that’s all Jey ever does, right? Talk shit. Act like he’s that guy. Like he gets under your skin more than you get under his.  

But then you see it.  

The way his eyes darken.  

Your laughter dies down when he slowly—real slow—pushes himself off the couch, standing to his full height. He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that unreadable expression, tongue swiping across his bottom lip like he’s thinking real hard about something.  

You should’ve walked away when you had the chance.  

But now? Now it’s too late.  

Jey moves with a lazy kind of dominance, circling you like a damn predator, eyes dragging over your frame, taking his sweet time like he’s got all night.  

You swallow, gripping your notebook a little tighter. "What?" you say, feigning nonchalance, but your voice is already a little weaker than before.  

Jey lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Man…" He exhales sharply, flexing his jaw. "Just told yo ass I’m stressed, mama. I’m tryna keep cool."  

His voice is deep, smooth, but there’s something dangerous lurking underneath it. Like he’s on the edge of something, and you’re the one about to push him over.  

"You ain't the only one stressed," you shoot back, though it doesn’t hold the same bite as before. You feel hot, like the air thickened between you without warning.  

Jey stops behind you now, standing close. Too close. You feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of his cologne mixed with whatever stress he’s been carrying all day.  

And then—his breath is at your ear.  

A shiver racks through you before you can stop it.  

"Maybe I should relieve my stress and fuck the attitude outta you."  

Your breath catches.  

Your whole body goes rigid.  

Because what the fuck did he just say?

Your brain straight up short-circuits.  

Mouth slightly parted, hands gripping your notebook like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded—you don’t know what to say. Because what the fuck are you supposed to say when your roommate, the man you claim to barely tolerate, just whispered some filthy shit in your ear like it was nothing?  

Like he knew what he was doing. Like he knew the effect it would have.  

And fuck—fuck—it wasn’t your fault that your panties were now coated in the wetness from your meaty pussy. It wasn’t.  

Blame the stress, blame the long-ass day, blame him for walking around in them damn hoochie shorts with thighs thick enough to make a grown woman weak. Blame anything but yourself.  

But Jey? Jey knows exactly what he’s doing.  

You feel him shift behind you, not touching you, but standing so damn close that you can feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a vice.  

"You real quiet now," he murmurs, voice low and taunting. "Where all that mouth go, huh?"  

Your breath is shaky when you finally force yourself to move, spinning around so fast you nearly stumble back into the coffee table. But Jey—being the asshole that he is—catches your wrist, steadying you before you can escape.  

"Easy, ma," he says, voice smooth as hell. Too smooth. Like he’s amused. Like he’s enjoying this shit.  

Your heart pounds so hard it’s all you can hear.  

"I—" You blink, trying to get your shit together, trying to remember why you were mad in the first place. "You—You’re such a fucking ass, you know that?"  

Jey smirks, tilting his head slightly. "And you love it."  

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin, slow and deliberate. It sends a jolt of heat straight to your core, making your thighs clench on instinct.  

"N-no, I don’t," you lie, voice barely above a whisper.  

His grin deepens, eyes flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again.  

"Lyin’ ass."  

The tension is so thick you could choke on it.  

And Jey? He’s standing there, looking at you like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s waiting on you to admit what you both already know.

"Fuck it," you mumbled, your voice breathy and shaky, almost like the words were ripped out of you against your will.  

You didn’t care anymore. Not about the stupid notebook. Not about the stupid tension. Not about the stupid fucking game Jey was playing, getting under your skin and twisting you up all at once.  

You dropped the notebook, not even thinking twice, and yanked him in by his collar, slamming your lips into his.  

It was hard. Demanding. The kind of kiss that’s all teeth and desperation. Like neither of you could wait another second to feel what this fucked-up energy between you really meant.  

Jey’s mouth moves against yours like he’s starving, all heat and tongue, and before you know it, his hands are on you—rough, unforgiving—grabbing your ass like it belongs to him, pulling you flush against him. The pressure of his grip sends a surge of heat straight through your body, your pussy throbbing in response.  

You moan against his lips as his fingers squeeze your ass, the sound barely escaping before he’s swallowing it down. He’s devouring your mouth, like he can’t get enough, like he’s wanted this for way too long and finally got what he wanted.  

You feel it in every inch of your body, that pull, that hunger. You feel his breath mixing with yours, the ragged way he’s breathing, the way his chest is rising and falling like he can’t keep up with what’s happening between you two.  

Your hands slide up to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath your palms, and for a split second, you think about pulling away—thinking you should stop before it gets too far. But the moment your hands find his neck and your fingertips dig into the back of his hair, you can’t think about anything but the way his body feels against yours.  

"Jey," you whisper, barely breaking the kiss, your lips swollen and breathless. "What are we doing?"  

He doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. He answers with another savage kiss, deep and messy, like he’s showing you exactly how far this has gone. And fuck, you don’t know if you’re ready for it, but you sure as hell don’t want it to stop.  

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his dark gaze searching yours like he’s reading every inch of you, figuring you out. You feel the weight of his stare.

“What we shoulda been did,” he murmurs lowly, voice rough as hell.  

And in that moment, you don’t need him to say anything else. You already know.

His body was fucking tense, like he was barely holding it together. You could feel the strain in his movements, the way his shorts were stretched tight, his muscles flexing with every shift. And damn, you could see it—his hard dick pressed up against them, making your heart race even faster.

Jey was barely keeping his cool, sweat beading down his forehead, his breaths coming out in sharp, heavy bursts. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks, and you could see it in his eyes. He was struggling, trying not to lose control, but damn—he wanted to.

You felt the heat of the moment, the tension that was thick enough to choke, and then his voice broke through, low and rough. "Be a good girl and get yo knees fa me," he growled through gritted teeth, barely holding it back.

And fuck, those words hit you like a freight train. It was like a switch flipped in your brain, your body moving almost instinctively as if you already knew what was next. You didn’t even think about it—you just did.

Dropping to your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes, your gaze locking with his, and there it was. That darkness, that possessive hunger that always lurked just beneath the surface. Jey’s jaw was clenched, his hands gripping the back of your head for support, as if he needed it to stay steady.

His eyes roamed over you like he couldn’t believe you were really there, like you were some kind of temptation he couldn’t resist.

You took your time, letting the tension build between you as your fingers grazed his waistband. Slowly, you tugged his shorts down, watching them slip past his hips until they pooled at his ankles. The sight of him like that, completely exposed, made your breath hitch in your throat.

But you weren’t done.

You leaned in a little closer, your hands tracing down his thighs before sliding under the waistband of his underwear. You took a second, letting the moment drag out, before pulling those down too, inch by inch, until they joined his shorts on the floor.

His thick dick arched towards you, glistening slightly as if it had been waiting for this moment. The huge, meaty length, likely around nine inches, had a rosy tip that was already dripping with precum. 

As you traced your finger around the swollen tip, a deep moan escaped his lips. “Ugh, mama,” he murmured, sounding so fucking good. A low grunt rolled from him as you tightened your grip and began to move your hand, the sound of you stroking his wet, aching dick echoed in the living room. “Mmh, shit,” he breathed, tilting his head back.

You lean in, your heart racing, and place a gentle, wet kiss on the swollen, angry tip of his dick. The warmth of your lips sends shivers through his body, and without a moment's hesitation, his hips instinctively thrust forward, a reflex wanting for more. “F-f- fuck, please,” he breathes out, the desperate need in his voice sending a shock through you.

He tilted his head back, surrendering to the feeling moving through him. Veins bulged on his hands as he tangled them in your hair, desperately trying to mask the expressions that escaped him. With each flick of your tongue, his hips shuddered in response. Your other hand began a slow journey, trailing to his balls, where you gave a gentle squeeze, drawing out a gasp that escaped his lips as your mouth sucked him deeper.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, and a whimper slipped from him — a sound of pure need. The feeling made your pussy swell, your wetness pooling as you ground your hips against the fabric of your panties, craving more. 

You could feel his rough grip tightening in your hair, a mix of pleasure and desperation evident in his voice as he stuttered, “Mama —! SHIT, wait—.” His eyes widened, a clear sign of the overwhelming urge building inside him, a tidal wave of release.

But, rather than slowing down, you were only spurred on, sucking him harder while tightening your throat around him, matching the rhythm of your hand as it continued to tease and squeeze his balls. “Please— Mmmmm,” he moaned, pleasure erupting from deep within. Then, without warning, you felt it — a hot rush as he erupted, flooding your throat with warmth, each wave sending electric jolts of satisfaction through both of you.

Jey grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you up with barely any effort, his grip firm but not painful. Without saying a word, he pulled you toward the couch in two long strides, moving like he was in control of every inch of the space between you. 

His breath was still heavy, fanning against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.  

"You know you don’t hate me, mama," he murmured in your ear, his voice low, thick with something dangerous. His lips brushed against your neck, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to make you fall apart.  

"You just hate that you want me," he added, his teeth grazing your skin between kisses, making your knees damn near buckle.  

You let out a shaky whimper, barely above a whisper. "Jey..."  

His grip on you tightened. "Yeah, baby?" he teased, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming out shaky as your fingers gripped onto his arms for some kind of stability. His lips were still on your neck, warm, teasing, like he was waiting for you to say it.  

"F-fuck me... please," you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, but desperate enough for him to hear exactly what you needed.  

Jey pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—something dangerous. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, and for a moment, he just watched you, like he was letting your words settle, making sure you meant them.  

Then, his grip tightened, and he smirked. "That’s all you had to say, mama."

He flipped you around like it was nothing, hands firm on your waist, making sure you landed exactly where he wanted you—ass pressed up against him. Your hands hit the couch for balance, fingers gripping the fabric as your breath came out shaky.  

Jey didn’t rush. Nah, he took his time, dragging his fingers down your hips before slowly peeling your shorts and panties down, letting the cool air kiss your skin. It was deliberate, like he was making a point—like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

You arched for him without thinking, body reacting on its own, and he let out a low hum—like he liked what he saw, like he was taking a mental picture of the way you were laid out for him.  

Jey peeled off his shirt and tossing it aside, his warm hands running over your hips before he positioned himself right at your entrance.

Got you! Here’s a more suggestive but still steamy version:  

“Gonna be a good girl fa me and take this dick?” Jey rasped, his voice thick with need, his grip on your hips tightening. His teeth clenched like he was barely holding himself back.  

You barely had time to respond, a shaky “y-yes, I—” slipping from your lips before a gasp tore through you.  

“Oh my God—!”  

Your fingers dug into the couch as he pushed forward, taking his time, making sure you felt every inch of his meaty dick. He was ripping through the gummy walls of your pussy. The room felt hotter, the air thick with tension, his deep groan mixing with your breathy whimpers.

His movements grew rougher, more urgent, his grip firm as he drove deeper. Each thrust sent waves of heat through your body, the pressure making your breath hitch. The sound of his heavy balls meeting your clit filled the room, a rhythm that left no space for second thoughts.  

His low groans mixed with your breathy moans, his pace relentless, like he was set on making sure you felt every bit of him.

“Jey… J-Jeyyy,” you whimpered, voice breaking as he moved just right, hitting that perfect spot like he knew your body better than you did.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, rough and needy. “Yeah… lemme h-hear you, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with pleasure.  

Then he stilled, buried deep, making your breath hitch. His grip tightened as he leaned in, his next words dripping with heat. “You feel so. Fucking. Good, mama,” he growled, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Jey’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you upward just enough to feel the strain in your back as you arched deeper. He fucked you so smooth, almost hypnotic, as each motion seemed to draw out all the tension that had built up between you both. His breaths grew heavier, as if every second was another release of the stress he’d been holding onto all day. 

You were both so close, the tension building, each of you chasing that same overwhelming release. Your body trembled as the pressure inside you built up to an unbearable peak.  

“Jey, I—oh god,” you moaned, your voice shaky as he moved with purpose, knowing exactly what you needed.  

“Mhm, give it to me, mama,” he murmured, his breath ragged. “I’m close too.”  

You let go, the wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body shuddering as the world around you blurred. Jey’s grip on you tightened as he followed, his rhythm slowing as he caught his breath, both of you lost in the aftermath. The air between you was thick, charged, like you were both coming down from something intense and raw.

Jey scooped you up like it was nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You could feel the heat of his skin pressed against yours, and everything felt so close, so right. You were exhausted, barely keeping your eyes open, but it didn’t matter. You just trusted him to take care of the rest.  

He didn’t even say a word—just held you tight and started walking, his hands steady on your ass as he carried you effortlessly. You didn’t even know where he was taking you, but you didn’t care. You were just so tired, so wrapped up in the feeling of him, the weight of your body melting against his.  

Then, he kicked open the bathroom door with one smooth motion, not even breaking a stride, like he’d done it a million times. He didn’t put you down, just shifted you slightly so you were still pressed against him as he turned the shower on. The sound of water filling the air was calming, almost like it was meant to wash away everything from the day.  

When he finally set you down, your legs wobbled slightly, but you steadied yourself, stepping into the shower as the warm water hit your skin. Jey followed you in, his hands never leaving your body as he stood close behind you, like he just couldn’t get enough of being near you.

You could feel yourself finally relaxing as Jey took over, the gentle motion of the washcloth gliding across your shoulders. His touch was soft but firm, like he knew exactly how to soothe you. When the cloth passed over your skin again, it lingered there for a second longer, and then, you felt his lips press a tender kiss to your shoulder. The soft foam of soap clung to his lips, but he didn’t seem to care. It was almost endearing in its own way.  

"Y’know, I always wanted this," he murmured, his voice hushed but full of intention as his fingers ran in slow circles on your back, the washcloth soothing your skin.  

Your stomach fluttered, and the feeling felt so real, so raw. You turned around to face him, meeting his eyes. His smirk was just enough for his grillz to flash in the low light, the mischievous glint in his eyes unmistakable.  

“Yeah… me too,” you admitted, the words coming out quieter than you expected.  

You realized then, maybe you never hated him the way you thought you did. Maybe the whole time, you wanted him so badly, you hated how much you needed him.  

Before you could overthink it, your hand reached up to his wet mullet, tugging him down toward you. Your lips met in a kiss, slow and lingering, as his hand moved to your ass, giving it a softer squeeze. There was no rush now. No tension. Just the feeling of being with him, finally, in a way you never expected. 

There’s just something about him that pisses you off. 

Something about the way he makes you love him.

🏷️: @luvrsluxe @skyesthebomb