#and hell just say that to every animal he sees
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i aint watch the whole video. i just started watching this and screamed and wanted to cry. just like his dad, the coolest australian most americans will ever know. So I dunno if he says he ever owned a chameleon.
But...he's very ginger abt picking up the chameleon. I can't remember the exact way is the right way to pick them up. but i do know that its incredibly easy to hurt their legs if u pick them up wrong.
This is me going off memory, so I could be wrong, PLEASE look this up before taking me at my word. I think it's that you have to be careful specifically of getting them off branches? You have to let them step on ur fingers bcus i think it can break their weird little mits.
I absolutely believe him abt when he says this is his favorite african animal
One of those situations where, 'you're turning into your father' is the furthest thing from a insult possible.
#i like herps#ive never owned one like MYSELF myself#but i do on sprees of looking up the cute little babies#so i know only like#a tiny bit abt them#but ofc this guy knows his shit#this is either his favorite african animal#or EVERY african animal is his favorite african animal#and hell just say that to every animal he sees#All Animals Is The Same (Cool as fuck)
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arguing with twd characters x fem!reader
characters: daryl, rick, negan, carl, glenn and maggie.
writer's note: y'all must know that i live for the drama. this one? pure angst, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, and that bittersweet mix of frustration and love. because letâs be realâfighting with someone you care about hits different. the hurt, the anger, the fear of losing them? chefâs kiss. so yeah, if youâre here for the yelling, the almost-tears, and that one line that sticks in your chest hours later⌠welcome to my world. requests are open!
daryl

The cabin is an oven in the middle of the night, but the heat doesnât come just from the airâit comes from the fire burning in Darylâs gaze. He stands by the table, the veins in his arms pronounced from the tension in his clenched fists. His blue eyes, usually evasive, are locked onto you with an intensity that makes you burn from the inside out.
âWhat the hell were you thinking?â His voice is rough, laced with barely contained anger.
âI did what I had to do,â you answer, crossing your arms with the same firmness with which you hold his gaze. âI wasnât going to sit around waiting for you or Rick to make a decision. I went and handled it.â
Daryl lets out a bitter laugh, a dry sound that feels like a punch to the chest. âHandled it? And what if they had killed you, huh? What if you didnât come back? Did you think about that?â
âYou always expect the worst,â you snap, frustration lacing your words. âIâm here, Daryl! I came back, didnât I? Why canât you trust that I know what Iâm doing?â
He shoves the table as he steps away, pacing like a caged animal. His hands go to his belt, adjusting it in a nervous gesture. âBecause you always get yourself into trouble. You always think you can handle everything on your own, and one day, one fucking day, you wonât come back. And I donât know what the hell Iâll do then.â
Your heart clenches, but anger still simmers inside you. âThatâs it, isnât it? Itâs not that you care about my lifeâitâs that youâre worried about how guilty youâd feel if something happened to me.â
Daryl glares at you, his jaw clenched tight. âDonât say stupid shit.â
You take a step toward him, challenging him. âIs it stupid? Because sometimes it feels like all you want is control. You canât stand that I do things without asking you, that I make decisions without your approval.â
He slams his fist on the table, sending a glass crashing to the floor. âGoddamn it, itâs not that!â
You flinch but donât back down. His breathing is heavy, and for a moment, you see something beyond the furyâfear.
âThen tell me what it is,â you demand, your voice lower now, softer, but still laced with defiance.
Daryl presses his lips together, his chest rising and falling hard. He looks like heâs about to explode again, but instead, he lets out a heavy sigh.
âI canât lose you,â he finally admits, his voice raw.
Your anger wavers, but resentment still lingers. âYou canât keep me in a bubble, Daryl. If you really care about me, you have to accept that Iâm part of this just as much as you are. That I wonât stay behind while the world falls apart.â
Daryl lowers his gaze, his knuckles still tight. âYou donât understandâŚâ
âI do understand,â you cut him off, firm. âI know what itâs like to lose someone. I know what it feels like to be terrified, not knowing if the person you love will make it back home. But you know what else I know? I know I donât want to live in fear every damn step I take. I know that if I die, at least itâll be fightingânot waiting for someone else to do what needs to be done.â
Daryl lets out a frustrated breath, running his hands through his messy hair. âShit! Why do you always have to make things so damn difficult?â
âDifficult?â you laugh without humor, shaking your head. âWhatâs difficult is loving someone who doesnât trust me. Who thinks Iâm too stupid to make a choice without endangering myself. Who believes he has to save me all the damn time when Iâve never needed him to.â
His eyes burn into you, as if every word is hitting him where it hurts the most.
âDonât you get it?â he finally explodes, his voice echoing off the cabin walls. âIf something happens to youâif you get killed, if you disappearâI donât know what the fuck Iâd do! I donât know how Iâd keep going.â
The weight of his words crashes over you like an avalanche. Itâs not just fear in his voiceâitâs desperation.
Daryl drags a hand through his hair, his breathing still heavy. âItâs not that I donât trust you,â he murmurs. âItâs that I donât trust this world. Iâve seen it take everyone I love. My brother, Hershel, Glenn⌠And nowâŚâ
He doesnât finish the sentence, but you know what he means. And now you.
You sigh and take a step closer, your anger fading with every second you see him this goddamn broken. âDarylâŚâ
He looks up, and in his gaze, thereâs no longer just furyâthereâs vulnerability.
âI donât know how to do this,â he confesses, and for the first time, you see him completely exposed. âI donât know how to love someone without being terrified of losing them.â
Your chest tightens. It hurts to see him like this, so trapped in fear, in the uncertainty of a world where love feels more like a punishment than a comfort.
You sigh and carefully take his hand. âThen you have to learn,â you say, squeezing his fingers between yours. âBecause Iâm not going to change. I wonât stop fighting. I wonât stop being who I am.â
Daryl doesnât respond immediately. His gaze drops to your intertwined hands, as if memorizing the feeling. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he squeezes your hand back.
âJust promise me one thing,â he says, voice rough.
âWhat?â
âIf you ever plan on doing something like that again⌠tell me first.â
You smile faintly, though the tension still lingers between you. âSo you can try to stop me?â
Daryl shakes his head. âSo that if something goes wrong, at least I can come after you.â
Your heart skips a beat.
Itâs not a promise to let you go. Itâs not full acceptance. But itâs a first step. And for now, thatâs enough.
Daryl still hasnât let go of your hand, and neither have you.
rick

Blood still stains your hands when Rick finds you.
Heâs there, standing at the door of the cell where everything happened, his eyes locked on the corpse of the man who was once a prisoner. His face is a mask of restrained fury, disbelief, and disappointment. His breathing is heavy, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
You, on the other hand, remain in place. You feel no guilt. No remorse. Just a deep emptiness in your chest, as if something had been torn from you along with the life of that bastard.
Rick lifts his gaze, his dark eyes sharp.
"What did you do?"
His voice is barely a whisper, but itâs worse than a scream.
You cross your arms, standing firm, not looking away. "What we all should have done from the start."
Rick steps forward, slow and measured, as if carefully weighing every movement to keep himself from snapping. "So you just made a decision for everyone?"
"This wasnât a decision for everyone," you spit. "It was mine."
Rick clenches his jaw, his eyes fixated on the blood still dripping from the knife in your hand. "We had him locked up. We were going to decide what to do with him."
"Decide?" you scoff, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "How much longer, Rick? How much longer were we going to play democracy while he slept soundly and ate our food?"
Rick closes his eyes for a second, running a hand over his face. Heâs trying to keep his composure, but you know him too well. You know heâs boiling inside.
"Weâre not murderers," he murmurs.
Your rage erupts.
"He was! He killed my sister like she was nothing! He tore her apart, left her there for us to find like a goddamn message. And yet, you wanted to keep him alive. Why? For principles? For morality?"
Rick takes another step closer, his face just inches from yours. "Because if we start taking justice into our own hands without any control, then we become the very thing weâre trying to destroy."
You shove him, all your pent-up anger surging forward. "Thatâs easy for you to say! It wasnât your sister. It wasnât your family. You didnât have to pick up her body, you didnât have to see how we put her in the ground like she was just another casualty in this shit world!"
Rick doesnât move when you push him. He stays there, firm, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes burning with emotions heâs keeping in check.
"You think I donât understand how you feel?" His voice is low, dangerous. "You think I donât know what itâs like to lose someone and want to rip out the heart of the son of a bitch who did it? Iâve been there, more times than I want to remember."
"Then you should understand," you whisper, your voice breaking, "and not judge me."
"What I understand," he says, staring straight into your soul, "is that you crossed a line you canât come back from."
For a moment, the anger fades, replaced by something darker.
"So what?" Your voice is defiant. "Are you going to lock me up now? Judge me like Iâm the criminal here?"
Rick shakes his head, his jaw tight. "I donât know what to do with you."
That confession hits harder than anything else.
"So thatâs it?" you whisper. "After everything weâve been through, youâre just going to turn your back on me?"
Rick runs a hand through his hair, turning away as if he needs space to breathe. "Itâs not that simple, damn it. I canât just ignore what you did."
You laugh, but thereâs no humor in it. "Thatâs what really pisses you off, isnât it? That I made a decision without waiting for your damn permission."
Rick stops dead in his tracks and looks at you. "This isnât about control."
"Isnât it?" You cross your arms, watching him with the sole purpose of testing his patience. "Then tell me, what would you do if someone else had done this? If it had been Daryl? If it had been Carol? Would you treat them the same way? Or does it only hurt because it was me?"
Rick takes a deep breath, like heâs trying to steady the tremble in his hands.
"Exactly. It hurts because itâs you," he finally admits, and thereâs something broken in his voice.
Your chest tightens.
Rick looks at you like heâs seeing a completely different person. Like something between you has changed forever. And maybe it has.
"Iâve always trusted you," he says, his voice rough. "I always thought that no matter how fucked up things got, you were different. That you wouldnât let this world change you."
"This world already changed me, Rick," you whisper, pain laced in every word. "A long time ago."
Rick presses his lips together, and you can see the conflict raging inside him. The battle between logic and what he feels for you.
Finally, he exhales. "I donât know if I can look at you the same way after this."
Your throat tightens.
"Then donât," you say, taking a step back. "If what I did makes me a monster in your eyes, then I guess you never really knew me."
Rick watches you, wants to say something else, but he doesnât. Instead, he just stands there, looking at you like heâs losing you in that very moment.
Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the corpse, the argument⌠and maybe, the part of you that still clung to the idea that you and Rick would always be on the same side.
negan

The atmosphere in the Sanctuary is thick with tension. The moment you step through the door, you feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you. Itâs not surprise. Itâs not curiosity. Itâs fear.
And when you see Negan, you understand why.
He stands in the middle of the main hall, Lucille resting on his shoulder. His posture is rigid, his jaw clenched with barely contained fury. The few Saviors present avoid his gaze, instinctively stepping back, as if expecting him to explode at any moment.
Negan is not a patient man.
Not when his authority is challenged.
And you have challenged him.
âWell, well, well⌠if it isnât my fucking queen of mercy.â His voice echoes through the space, dripping with sarcasm and danger.
You stop in your tracks, your heart pounding, but you donât step back. Not with him. Not this time.
âNegan, Iââ
âShut the fuck up!â he roars, slamming Lucille against the ground with a deafening crash. âWhat the hell were you thinking!?â
His fury is overwhelming, but you are not one to cower before his rage. You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to show weakness.
âI went to Alexandria to talk to Rick.â
Negan lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. He runs a hand over his jaw, taking a deep breath, trying to control his temper⌠and failing.
âTo talk?â he repeats, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. âAre you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea what you just did? What youâre forcing me to do now? Do you have a fucking clue how badly you screwed everything up?â
You lift your chin, showing no remorse. âI went to offer a truce. To negotiate something before this turns into a meaningless massacre.â
Negan stays silent for a moment, his eyes burning with unfathomable rage. He leans in, his voice low and lethal.
âA truce? A fucking truce with the man whose friends I smashed to pieces in front of him?â
You clench your fists, frustration burning in your chest. âExactly! You killed his damn people, Negan!â
He slams both hands against the wall, leaning even closer, his breath hot against your face. âAnd they killed ours! Or have you already forgotten what they did? The ambush, how they executed my people like they were trash? How the fuck do you think I was supposed to respond, huh? With flowers and a fucking peace speech?â
You breathe heavily, but you donât back down. âNegan, what you did⌠you did it to get revenge, to put on a fucking show! To prove youâre the alpha here, not because it was the only option!â
Negan straightens up, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. His expression is a mix of disbelief and anger.
âI knew youâd react like this, with that goddamn soft heart of yours bleeding for those bastards, but going to Alexandria without telling me? Putting yourself in danger like that? Undermining my authority? What the fuck were you thinking?â
You step forward, anger spilling over. âI was thinking about stopping more bloodshed! Or does that not matter to you? Is the only thing that matters that I obey you like one of your fucking men?â
Negan lets out a humorless laugh, stepping closer, his eyes burning. âYou think this is just about obedience!? No, sweetheart, this is about loyalty. About respecting the fucking structure. About knowing that every goddamn thing we do in this world has consequences. You challenged me in front of everyone! You made me look like a fucking clown. And now, guess what? Now I have to go and clean up the mess you made!â
Your hands tremble with rage, with frustration. âI didnât give a shit about how you looked, Negan! I cared about making sure this didnât turn into a never-ending fucking war. Do you really not get that?â
Negan looks at you with a mix of fury and that terrifying darkness of his.
âYouâre wrong, baby,â he says, his voice lower, more dangerous. âWeâre not avoiding a war. Weâre already in one. Or havenât you figured that out yet?â
You stare at him, a knot forming in your throat. âYou know whatâs worse, Negan? This isnât just about Rick, or Alexandria. This is about you. About what you are. About what youâve always been.â
Negan narrows his eyes. âWatch what you say.â
But you donât stop. You canât.
âYou canât stand someone else having power. You have to be the fucking king, the one who decides who lives and who dies, the one who makes the rules. And if someone steps out of line, you destroy them. Because thatâs how you deal with everything.â
Negan watches you in silence, his breathing heavy. But thereâs something else in his gaze now. Something that seems⌠to hurt him.
âIs that really all you think I am?â he finally asks, his voice strangely soft.
You donât answer right away. There are so many layers to him, so many things that make him the man he is. Youâve seen the good and the bad. The brutality and the tenderness. The rage and the desperation. But this time⌠this time, what he did was too much.
Negan runs a hand over his beard, exhaling sharply. âI love you, baby. Fuck, I love you. But if you keep challenging me like this, I donât know what the fuck Iâm gonna do with you.â
Your heart clenches, but not in the way it used to when he said those words. This time, fear and sadness are mixed in with everything else.
âThen maybe you need to decide, Negan,â you murmur, your throat tight. âIf you want someone who just follows orders and shuts up, or if you want someone who actually gives a damn about what youâre doing.â
He stays silent. The rage is still there, but so is something else. Something neither of you knows how to fix.
Because love between you has always been a battle.
And this time, you donât know which of you has come out more wounded.
carl

The door swings open violently.
Carl storms in like a hurricane, shoulders tense, breathing ragged, and his frown so deep it looks like his face might split in two from sheer fury.
You watch him from the couch, your book forgotten in your lap. The moment you saw the way he left with Rick earlier, you knew this would happen.
You knew heâd come back seething.
âCarlââ you start, standing up.
âNot now,â he snaps, raising a hand to silence you as he storms toward the table and throws his knife onto it with a sharp thud. His jaw is so tight you think he might break his own teeth.
You sigh, taking a few cautious steps toward him. âWhat happened this time?â
Carl lets out a bitter laugh. A hollow, joyless sound that makes your chest feel empty.
âOh, the usual. Dad telling me Iâm not ready. That I shouldnât do this, that I shouldnât do that. That Iâm still âtoo youngâ to make decisions. You know whatâs even better? Now he thinks Iâm the problem too.â
You blink, surprised. âWhat? Why would he say that?â
Carl whips around to face you, his blue eye burning with rage. âBecause I tried to do the right thing. Because I tried to protect our people. And according to him, I was âirresponsible.ââ
You reach for him, but he pulls away.
âCarl, he was just worried about you.â
âOh, sure. Heâs always worried, right? He never thinks that maybe I actually know what Iâm doing. That maybe Iâm right.â His voice rises with each word, and you can hear the desperation creeping in.
You sigh, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. âThatâs not it, and you know it. Rick trusts you, but heâs also scared. You lost an eye, Carl. You almost died. How do you expect him to react?â
Carl turns to you again, his expression growing even harder. âSo what? Does he want me to just sit back while this shit consumes us? To hide behind him like some damn kid? Iâm not a kid anymore!â
His shout echoes through the room. It shakes you, but you refuse to look away.
âI know,â you murmur calmly, though your heart pounds in your chest. âBut I also know youâre angry, and right now, youâre not thinking clearly.â
Carl scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he shakes his head. âOh, really? So now you think Iâm just some stupid kid too?â
You frown. âI never said that.â
âBut you think it!â
Your patience starts to wear thin. âCarl, donât put words in my mouth. Donât do this to me.â
âDo what?â
You take another step forward, ignoring the tremor in your own voice. âTreat me like the enemy.â
For a moment, Carl is silent. His gaze darkens. âYouâre not the enemy.â
âThen stop talking to me like I am.â
Carl drags a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. âItâs just⌠fuck, no one listens to me. You say you understand, but here you are, telling me the same thing my dad does. That I canât, that I shouldnât, that Iâm acting like an idiot.â
The desperation in his voice hits you like a slap.
âI donât think youâre an idiot.â
âBut you donât think Iâm right either!â
You exhale sharply, feeling the tension coil in your chest. âItâs not black and white, Carl. Things donât work like that.â
He lets out a dry, humorless laugh. âThatâs a bullshit excuse.â
âNo, itâs not! Itâs the truth!â
âWhat if I had died, huh?â Carl steps closer, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and something deeper. âIf I had died fighting, if I had done what I wanted to do, if I had risked my life for our people, would you have sided with my dad and said âCarl was a fucking idiotâ?â
You go still. Your throat tightens.
âWhatâs wrong?â he pushes, his expression daring you. âGot nothing to say now?â
Your chest aches. Your eyes burn. âI donât want to lose you.â
Carl blinks. His expression falters for just a second, but only for a second. âYou canât save me from everything.â
âBut I can try!â Your voice cracks into a sob. âGod, Carl, donât you get it? I would break if something happened to you. No matter how many times you say you can handle it, that doesnât mean the world is going to listen.â
Carl opens his mouth, but no words come out.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears fall anyway. âIâve lost too much. I canât lose you too.â
His face softensâjust slightly. The anger is still there, but now thereâs something else in his eyes. Something you havenât seen before: guilt.
âI⌠shit.â He runs a hand down his face, letting out a tight sigh.
âIf you want to fight with your dad, do it. But donât take it out on me. I donât deserve that.â
âI didnât mean to make you cry.â His voice is quieter now, more unsteady.
âWell, you did. And itâs not the first time. Donât do things to me that you wouldnât want done to you.â
He stays silent. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he takes a step toward you.
And then another.
Until heâs right in front of you, until his arms are around you and his forehead rests against yours.
âIâm sorry.â
You close your eyes and cling to him, feeling his breath still uneven, but also noticing that, little by little, it steadies.
No more words for now. Just the sound of your quiet sobs against his chest and his arm around you, holding on like heâs just as afraid of losing you.
glenn

The forest feels suffocating despite the cold wind cutting through the night. The crunch of leaves beneath your boots is almost deafening in the tense silence that has settled between you. Glenn walks ahead, his silhouette barely visible under the moonlight, shoulders rigid and breathing unsteady.
You know heâs angry.
And you know itâs your fault.
But youâre not going to be the one to break the silence first.
You keep moving through the underbrush, dodging branches and roots, backpacks heavy on your shoulders. The mission had been simple: get into the pharmacy, grab what you needed, and get out. But things got complicated. Because, as always, you made an impulsive decision.
Because, as always, Glenn had to save you.
Finally, he canât take it anymore.
âWhat the hell was that?!â he snaps, abruptly turning to face you.
You freeze, your hand tightening around the strap of your backpack.
âYou ran straight into a group of walkers like you had a damn plan! You almost got yourself killed because you thought you could handle it alone!â
You grit your teeth, feeling the anger bubble up inside you. âI didnât have a choice.â
âThereâs always another choice!â Glenn takes a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. âBut you always pick the most goddamn dangerous one! When are you going to start thinking before you act?â
Your heart pounds, both from the argument and the fact that youâre still out in the open.
âWe canât afford to overthink things, Glenn. Sometimes you just have to act.â
Glenn shakes his head, his expression hardening. âIs that how you see it? Just act without thinking? Play the reckless hero without caring about the consequences?â
You step toward him, challenging. âSo what? Youâd rather I just stand back while you take all the risks alone?â
âIâd rather you trust me, for fuckâs sake!â His voice cracks at the end.
And that hits harder than any yell ever could.
âGlennâŚâ
He shakes his head, looking away. âYou donât get it, do you? Itâs not just about today. Itâs all the damn time. Itâs always having to worry about whether or not youâll make it back. Because itâs happened to me before. Because Iâve lost people before.â
Your chest tightens.
He keeps going, his voice lower, heavier.
âDo you know why Iâm so careful? Why I plan everything? Because if I make a mistake, people die. If you make a mistake, I have to save you. And if one day I canâtâŚâ
Glenn falls silent, his fists clenched at his sides.
Your anger fades at the pain on his face.
But you donât back down completely.
âIf Iâm going to die, I want to go down fighting. Iâm not a coward.â
Glenn looks at you. His voice is barely a whisper when he replies:
âIf youâre going to die, I donât want to be there to see it.â
The cold night air feels insignificant compared to those words.
maggie

Maggie walks ahead, her face serious, unyielding, while you hold your rifle in your hand, almost automatically. The walk has been silent, as always, but today, thereâs something heavier in the air. Something more than the constant danger of the walkers lurking around.
Ever since you set out to scout the area around the community, everything has been getting worse. The tension is growing, and although you both understand whatâs at stake, the silence is starting to become unbearable.
You canât take it anymore.
âMaggie,â you say, your tone firm, almost defiant. âIâm looking at you, and I know somethingâs on your mind. Why donât you just say it?â
She keeps walking, doesnât turn around, but you get the feeling sheâs waiting for you to say more. When she finally speaks, her voice is laced with frustration.
âItâs nothing.â
âDonât lie to me,â you reply, gripping the rifle tighter. âI know somethingâs eating you up inside.â
She stops, the weight of your words settling over both of you. âWhatâs eating me up right now is how everything we do is getting more dangerous. Every decision, every move we make, is a fucking gamble. Do you get that? And Iâm not letting it slide anymore.â
Your brow furrows, confused. âWhat are you saying?â
Maggie steps toward you, the wind stirring her hair as her gaze turns sharper. âIâm saying your recklessness is killing us all. This damn pride of yours, this need to save everyone, to throw yourself into situations without caring about the consequencesâitâs putting everyone at risk.â
âThatâs not true!â you snap, offended. âI do whatever it takes to protect us. That includes taking risks.â
âNo!â Maggie shouts, her voice almost breaking. âThat includes screwing things up for everyone! Why do you always have to do things your way? Canât you ever just listen? This isnât the damn world we used to know! Here, if we donât think as a group, we die!â
âAnd what do you expect me to do? Just stand back, hide while everything goes to shit? Thatâs not who I am, Maggie!â
Maggie takes a step back, her eyes filled with exhaustion, arms crossed. âIâm not asking you to hide! Iâm asking you to think before you do something reckless! You have to start seeing whatâs at stake. Weâre not alone. Weâre not invincible. If you keep putting your pride and your need to be the hero above everyone else, youâre going to get us all killed. And that includes me, do you understand?â
Your stomach twists at her words because you know thereâs truth in them. âDo you think Iâm a burden to everyone, too?â
Maggie looks at you, her eyes clear but hard, and for a second, you donât know if her anger is really directed at you or something deeper. âI donât want you to be a burden. I want you to be part of the team, like everyone else. But you canât keep acting like youâre the only one who matters. Like your life is the only one that counts.â
You step closer to her, anger still pulsing through every fiber of your being, but suddenly, everything seems clearer. Maggie isnât attacking youâsheâs scared.
âDonât ask me to stop fighting,â you murmur, your voice breaking, almost a whisper. âIf I donât fight for them, for us, for you⌠then I donât know whatâs left of me.â
Maggie steps toward you, and for the first time in a long while, you can see that sheâs fighting her own demons, too. Thereâs a pain in her eyes that youâve never seen before.
âI know,â she says softly, her voice almost breaking. âBut thereâs more at stake than just our fight, do you understand? If one of us falls, we all fall. And I donât want to lose you.â
You stare at her, the heat of tears threatening to rise in your eyes. âI donât know how to not lose myself, Maggie. I donât know how to do all this without losing myself.â
Maggie sighs, taking your face in her hands, resting her forehead against yours. âYou have to learn, because if you donât⌠then youâll lose me, too.â
#carl x reader#daryl dixon#daryl x female reader#daryl x reader#glenn x reader#maggie twd#negan x reader#negan x you#rick x reader#the walking dead#twd#rick twd#carl twd#negan twd#glenn twd#daryl twd#daryl x y/n#daryl x you#rick grimes#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes x you#rick grimes x y/n#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes x y/n#carl grimes x you#negan x y/n#maggie greene x reader#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead imagine
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Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....
And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.
The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.
And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.
Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.
HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.
But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.
That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:
His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.
Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.
#see also: my grinding teeth when people disparage his circus origins#like the only thing its good for is colorful backstory and explaining his acrobatics#THERES. SO. MUCH. THERE.#theres so much EVERYWHERE in every aspect of his backstory and his preexisting comics and yet over and over we get#....what if we just ignored all that and did what the fuck ever as though this character has nothing integral to him or fundamental to say#to be fair my gripes with Taylor are not exactly interchangeable with my gripes with the previous runs#but I lump him in as an extension of them because while evocative of different SIDES of my ennui with these takes on Dick.....#the thing about Taylor's stuff to me (or the parts I read at least) is that its generic as hell while only retaining superficial elements#of Dick's character and stories in order to point to them and say see these are definitely about Dick Grayson. like....only in very surface#level ways. underneath that theyre basically generic superhero adventures that could easily be retooled to be about a pretty sizable number#of other characters. tbh with the whole alfred inheritance thing it honestly felt from the get go#that Taylor was more interested in writing a kinder gentler Batman like a Bruce from one of the animated shows like#The Brave and the Bold who gets along better with everyone else. even the way the Brave and the Bold largely exists to use Batman's#popularity as a star vehicle to platform his co-superhero for the episode lends itself to Taylor's approach in his NW run#with the central figure - only nominally DG imo - basically existing as a platform allowing for the drafting of any other character he want#to write in any given arc or story in a similar way to how Bruce is utilized in Brave and the Bold#anyway. idk idk. my issues with Taylor are not the same as the others exactly but also they are and also I just plain dont like the guy#so I complain about him at any given opportunity even when its not technically as accurate or relevant as it possibly could be#I Am Flawed. its fine though dont worry about it. its called being nuanced
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i ship inhun in a way that differwnt and more swagful than anyone else btw.
#TBFHHHHH i know i know i knowwww i say a lot. but i dont even ship in in the traditional sense#i dont think it will b canon and i dont rlly WANT it to b canon. its just insane like ZAMNNNNN why r u looking at each other like thatatttt#i dont think that if (IF) inho reveals his identity gihun is gonna magically b like Oh my god⌠okay well i like u now. more the opposite#and i dont think inho genuinely likes gihun all that much. i think hes obsessed w him in a way that borders on it but. u know#to inho gihun mostly just represents the parts of himself hes locked away. hes like the person inho used to be or cld have been#i think he DOES want whats best for gihun but like. just in his own opinion#to him whats best is to just.. pretend these issues dont exist and move on.#i think being wrapped up in the games is sickening no mattter what side ur on and he knows this. and just wants gihun to forget#i also do think he sees Something special in gihun. but its not like Ahhhh come and rule by my side đ LOL#yeah like i said. the recognition of the self. DONT GO DOWN THIS PATH MAN FUCK OFFFFFF#um. also yeah gihun i dont think wld have such a thrn around to like date himmmm oh my god lol#i think its likely hell end up Not killing inho for various reasons and possibly even leaving room for redemption#but yeah i dont think he wld ever trust him even. i dont think he wld let all that slide đđđ#gihun x youngil is bantssss. but not real at all sadly#rhe best fic i read of them was a pre series fic where inho wasnt the front man yet. and he met gihun by chance#and kinda used him to convince himself that what he was doing was right. For The Greater Good etc#i cant remember what it was called but it was sooo good i need to find it sometime#sniffâŚ.. living in a sad world where every body mischaracterises them sooooo bad and evil.#THE BEST INHUN CONTENT was the animation of them over the megamind breakup scene. MY GOD#ill be honest. igaf abt their dynamic soooo hard but htemain reaosn i âshipâ them is bc theyre both INSANELY FINE. AND I NEED THEM BADLY#and. im obsessed w them separately. so of course they are making out sloppy style in my mind#ill b honest as well i dont think gihun is in the right state of mind for aany of That AT ALLLL rn either.#and as well w inho not being intersted in that way. and also he shot his brother bc it was aconflict of interests. btw.#whatever tho lol the memes and shit r funny as fuckkkkk so idc. keep fucking#anyways sangihun đđ for fucking everrrrrer in terms of an actual ship#tho i dont think they wld ever be canon either. well i mean. for obvious reasons#but also bc i dont PERSONALLY think sangwoo wld ever allow himself that. BYE#idk idk idk maybe i am wrong and i know nothing.#SORRY. ik i am fighting invsisible demons again i just saw a post abt Sickos who know Nothing abt the ThemesâŚ. NO GUYS.. PROMMY THATS NOT ME
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i pulled out t.anjiro's icons for a silly lil expression for my silly lil ooc post, and then i got punched in the throat by the realization that the k.ny anime will be or already has animated a certain fight with a beloved demon......... and now i'm thinking about the entirety of the last leg of the series and i wanna cry
#actually TWO beloved demons!!!! one being my scrunkly... kaigaku you're so terrible but i can't hate you i fear#dissecting him has been probably the most insane i've ever been over a canon character actually ASDFG he has so little panels#so little screen time but i analyzed every crumb i was given i tell ya#he's the first character i think i genuinely kinda just?? didn't wanna see other portrayals of bc people swung real hard one way with him#he's such a villain but there's depth there and ANYWAY I WON'T START ON THIS AGAIN!!!!! I WON'T!!!!!#anyway i should catch up on the anime but i fear being dragged back into kny hell (i say as if i didn't spend like two years there happily)#NOW!! onto productive things like chatting and writing <3#get ready to ramble | ooc
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Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1
All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.
âFUCK!â
Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. Thatâs fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if youâre lucid dreaming? Oh, thatâs right, put your finger in your palm, itâll phase through!
I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.
You see, Iâm not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, Iâm supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didnât go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.
But of course, Iâm not late to work, Iâm in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic Iâd been reading! And by the looks of itâŚ. Iâm the crown princes crazy fiancĂŠ! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldnât this at least be original? Thereâs hundred of stories just like âmy next life as a villainess,â why couldnât I be like⌠a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!
I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic Iâve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I canât think of a single fucking one where they get home?
Well this isnât going to stop me. I have a cat whoâs going to absolutely flip if sheâs not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! Sheâs a princess! I canât be stuck here! Whoâs going to throw her pompom toy for her if Iâm not there???
What did all these have in common? Whatâs the barebones trope layout? Ok letâs see
1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new worldâŚ. Check
2) person is the villain!âŚ. Check
3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonistâŚ
Ohhh⌠heyâŚ. Do these Isekai characters ever justâŚ. Play along? Even the âreincarnated as a babyâ ones, they only play along till theyâre old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe thatâs it. Make it to the books natural end, and youâll wake up where you belong. Itâs like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and itâll get out.
Ok, Iâve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, Iâll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then Iâll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?
Hard. Itâs very hard.
Where the hell did he go!? My fiancĂŠ, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall⌠at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, youâd think heâd be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They donât make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. Theyâre meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.
Ok. Iâve got this! Iâll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.
I begin snooping, and itâs a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, Iâm the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if Iâm babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than âmaking myself at homeâ the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. Iâve never been a snooper. NowâŚ. Well. Itâs totally on brand for this character! Iâm not me, Iâm a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.
âWhatâs so amusing dearest?â
I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person Iâd been searching for has snuck up on MEâŚ. Thatâs so unfair!
âW-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?â
I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!
âWhat are you doing in this wing anyways? Werenât you meant to be out riding today?â
Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didnât consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- Iâve got this!
âYes, well, I decided I wasnât in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.â
His brows furrow
âOh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-â
âNo! Thatâs- thatâs quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um⌠what about you? What are your plans for the day?â
He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.
âI was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.â
I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?
âWould you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?â
Ok. Iâm already fucking this up. He looks confusedâŚ. God damnit âŚ. I knew I shouldnât have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?
âWell⌠Iâd actually love that. But are you sure? You havenât exactly shown interest in reading, and youâve never requested something like this beforeâŚ. In fact I donât think I can recall the last time weâve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in⌠well. Ever.â
WaitâŚ. What? Isnât my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just⌠spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?
âOf course, I think itâll be relaxing! Just lead the way!â
My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. Iâm missing something here. What is-
Oh. Shit. Thatâs right. Iâm supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. Thatâs why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competitionâŚ. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, theyâre just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse ridesâŚ. And who barely interact.
This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with himâŚ. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but thatâs rightâŚ. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies sheâs interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.
WellâŚ. Shit. Thatâs so like me to already have fucked this up. But thatâs ok. Thatâs ok- heâs going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details donât matter too muchâŚ. Itâs my first day in the job ok? Not everyoneâs perfect!
I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, itâs historical, but itâs giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think Iâll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.
âI know itâs a long way from dinnerâŚ. But I was thinking Iâd grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens âŚ. Would you care to join me?â
Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.
You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and Iâll reveal my true, nasty side to her! Sheâll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!
*insert evil laughter!*
âYouâre smiling.â
âW-what?â
âA smile. It suits you. Youâve been doing that a lot todayâŚ.. I like it.â
Ok and now Iâm blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.
âOw! What the-!?â
My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying
âDo you not know how to watch where youâre going!? OwwwâŚ. Ugh.â
Ok Iâm sorry Iâm usually a nice and understanding person but Iâve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?
Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if Iâm alright with most concerned lookâŚ. And the girl gasps and says,
âC-crown prince Eric! I apologize! Iâd didnât recognize you!â
She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadnât just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward EricâŚ. She⌠didnât see HIM? Iâm the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. Iâm this evil person in this worldâŚ. I need to act like it!
âAnd not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?â
Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you couldâve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!
And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,
âWell?â
âForgive meâŚ. Princess consortâŚ. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!â
I scoff- thatâs it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?
Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like sheâs one of those mean girls in high school whoâs not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? Thatâs right.
âYesâŚ. Well. Iâm sure we wonât be seeing much of each other anyways. If youâll excuse me-â
Nailed itttttâŚ. Now her line?
âWell, actuallyâŚ. My name is Lady Cressida, and Iâll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!â
Oh thatâs so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Ericâs arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.
Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch whoâs refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now Iâm manhandling him- totally unlady like. God Iâm killing this arenât I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!
What I donât see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.
Part 2
SERIES IS DISCONTINUED- sorry yâall, just not inspired to write this anymore and donât wanna force it.
#dividers by cafekitsune#yandere blog#yandere#obsessive yandere#obsessive love#yandere x darling#yandere blurb#soft yandere#yandere imagine#yandere scenarios#tw yandere#yandere imagines#yandere isekai#isekai#darling blog#irl darling#irl yandere#yandere stories#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere prince#male yandere#yandere series#yandere manhwa x reader#yandere male#isekai reader#yandere x reader#yandere x you#x reader#yanblr
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YOU'RE RULING THE WAY THAT I MOVE... ââ KENJI SATO
ââ summary: Kenji was insatiable, they say.
ââ content warnings: F!reader, 18+, nsfw, fiance!kenji, oral (f!receiving), finger marks, petnames, dirty talk, explicit words, explicit content.
ââ word count: 1.206!

Oh, Kenji Sato was, unconditionally, insatiable. â Perhaps, mentioned in countless reports and comments and rumors from journalists, a little voracious and avid. â Making it clear that he looked for satisfaction around him, wanting to end this thirst on the court.
Being one of the biggest, and best, baseball stars, he had the reason, and right, to cause this. â Everyone could agree, right?
But this feeling remained in his chest, covertly, off the court; of course, trying not to show it in the public eye. â There was a mixture of need and lack that only Sato could admit; poorly, dramatic.
Kenji felt hungry, needing to be close to you, causing any physical contact, wanting to enjoy every inch of your body; aspiring to press it around you. â He wants to feel, touch and delight you. â And that drove the young boy crazy.
At the same time that you drove him crazy, leaving Sato thirsty, greedy for your smell or just seeing your gaze against his, you also directed him to the light; being a guide on your troubled path. âKenji was grateful, and, gods, as he was. â The possibly true meaning of walking through heaven and hell in one walk.
He was trapped, connected to you; always keeping, like a magnet, his strong, long arms around your waist, pressing himself against you or fitting his face into the crook of your neck, nudging his nose into the back of your neck. â Sometimes, his teeth run through your skin, a sensitive spot, marking the area and then kissing it; conveying a loving and ironic action when saying âsorry, my loveâ.
Also, Kenji remained, pleasantly, surrounded between your thighs and holding them, with such precision and rigidity, leaving, in the future, marks of his long fingers; unable to avoid the possessiveness that coursed through his veins. â Delighting, relishing in the taste of your pussy; keeping him even more addicted to you, being certified as a starving animal.
That mouth, so bold and sharp, that responded and argued everything that came to mind, in fact, was smeared with taste and pleasure; sucking, kissing your folds, incredibly wet and mixed with his saliva, in an unruly way. â Attacking your sensitive and pulsating clitoris, his tongue surrounding it with slow circles and tracing lines across the region. â Rarely threatening contact with his teeth.
The damned man knew how to torture you and thought it was funny, he had, unquestionably, a talent for it.
âKen, holy shitâŚ!â â The environment, unstable, dark and poorly lit by the small bands of light that came from the huge windows, covered by curtains, was filled with the moans and whimpers that came out of your beautiful, dirty mouth. â âNgh!â â You choked, trying to breathe.
Kenji would like, would love, to live with his face between your thighs; he could forget about baseball, save the city from monsters, everything. â Everything to devour you.
âMy little princess with that mouthâŚâ â A pop, made by his mouth, when sucking one of your folds was exclaimed. â ââŚso dirty.â â Pretends false hurt along with a pout, quickly licks his lips. â "So goodâŚ"
Raising his shiny orbs of desire and lasciviousness, Kenji witnessed, or rather, enjoyed your dazed image, hazy of the purest pleasure you received, feeling in a cloud of delight. â The large t-shirt, which belonged to your fiencĂŠ, lifted up to your collarbone, showing off your perky breasts and your messy hair spread across the pillow. â A magnificent work of art, somewhat angelic, apollonian.
Your little face manifested the lost between lust and excitement, being a sight for Sato's eyes. â You looked wonderful, as always.
âYou know, hmmâŚâ â The heat of his tongue returned, moving, slowly, to your entrance, tasting, ambitious; Sato's name was begged, almost inaudible, landing in his ears. â âI would spend hours eating that pussy.â â He had already confessed to that filthy curse so many times, but that's not a complaint. â âOh, but, you know, donât you?â â He growled.
âHm, hmâŚâ â This was an attempt to state what I had heard. â âKen, pleaseâŚâ â You didnât know what, in fact, you were begging, you didnât care about blurting out disconnected words and things; the older one raised his eyebrows, mocking you.
âFuck, baby.â â Kenji exclaims, almost breathless, closing his eyes and tracing a line with his tongue to the small, quivering dot, focusing on it; impatiently, wanting to enjoy your orgasm. â "I know, i know." â He babbled, clicking his tongue and increasing the speed of his licks; distributing a messy, clumsy, obscene kiss to your pussy.
A scream, thin and tearful, with a melodic tone, and considered music for the player, broke free from your mouth. â Being caught off guard during the change of promptness. â Without delay, one of your hands fell on Sato's black hair, pulling it sharply. â And you swear you felt a dirty smile, then a giggle, which sent a wave of shock through you.
When you felt a hot, scorching sensation of pleasure and voluptuousness boiling in your stomach, accompanied by the impression of numbness dominating your extremely sensitive little spot, you knew you were close. â Kenji too. â Your chest burned, rose and fell, trying to regulate or catch a breath, and your back arched; whining, immorally, even more so for Ken.
Holding your thighs, feeling a mediocre courage in trying to close them, which were increasingly trembling, Kenji's hands slowly caressed them; wanting to reassure you. â The coldness of his engagement ring ran across your skin, giving you goose bumps. â From the movement made in his mouth, Ken had said something, but, covered with exultation, you was unable to understand; probably words of encouragement.
"Oh, Ken, Kenji...!" â You screamed, frantically, while miserably moving your hips against Kenji's mouth, warning him; even if there is no such need. â Understanding what was going on, a growl came out of the older man's mouth, maintaining his rhythm. â âIâm close, KenâŚâ â You cried, feeling tears invading your eyes.
Suddenly digging your nails into Sato's scalp, as tears, witnesses of desire, fall from your eyes, you cum in Kenji's mouth; deliciously releasing all your pleasure. â Your head resting on the pillow, your chest rising and falling under pure exhaustion. â Therefore, you continues to be devoured by your lover.
Kenji, by gently opening your thighs a little, gets drunk on your orgasm; persistently tasting, tasting and eating your pussy. â Now, unshakable and extremely high level of sensitivity. â The tongue cleaning, searching and not leaving any drop of your cum with his greed and thirst to be quenched.
You were being adored, worshiped âeven ecstaticallyâ and you appreciated it. â Sato never tired of making you feel this way.
âPlease,â â As he start to pull away, Kenji lifts his head, to get a clear view of you, and the glow on his chin and mouth, caused by your cum and his saliva, sends butterflies to your stomach. . â "you're so perfect." â He murmured, stunned and swallowed dryly. â âI wanted to stay buried in your thighs, like, forever.â
Your hand, which was still between his locks, immediately messed them up; mercilessly finding his change in personality ridiculous. â Addressing a low "i love youâ to him.
âMe too, loveâ â He took a deep breath. â âBut, iâm serious.â
#kenji sato#ken sato#kenji#kenji sato x reader#ken sato x reader#kenji x reader#kenji sato smut#ken sato smut#kenji smut#ultraman#ultraman rising
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Shen Yuan, who has been getting tattoos since he was eighteen due to his extra money and little sense of self-preservation. Nothing anime or anything virgin like that: landscapes elaborated like paintings, cherry blossom trees like ink dripping on his skin, a full sleeve of artwork that climb up his shoulder blade and slide down his spine with butterflies and moths, wild flowers, spider lilies, traditional clouds on his ribs; it was painful, but hey, the chronically ill Shen Yuan knows pain, and he's used to it. At least he'll leave a nicely decorated corpse behind when he goes.
So, Shen Yuan transmigrates. Shen Qingqiu has no tattoos, of course; his skin is white and flawless in a way that Shen Qingqiu hasn't seen his own skin in years. It's a little sad, but he sighs and lets it go.
Then one morning, he see a spot on his forearm. It looks like a mole is sprouting there, but more than a mole... It looks like a petal? Shen Qingqiu examines it and sighs, because honestly, he has seen stranger things lately.
So, more petals. The curve of the branches of a cherry tree. Shen Yuan recognizes the outline of his own tattoos on his old body, somehow ridiculous, transmigrating slowly into this body too! What the hell!
He thanks the robes that cover every part of his skin for the first time. Nothing is visible or strange. It's not like anyone would see Shen Qingqiu naked enough to ask questions about it.
Not much has happened and he hasn't even fully unlocked OOC mode when his skin is actually covered with his own tattoos. Oh, poor original goods, wherever he is, he must be rolling over in his metaphorical grave.
Then, that first mission happens, and Shen Qingqiu finds himself awakened in that skinner demon situation... Half-dressed!!!
Oh no!! The tattoos on his collarbone and chest are visible now!!!
Oh, fUCK, LUO BINGHE IS WATCHING HIM-
(Luo Binghe doesn't make any comment on that afterwards. Shen Qingqiu pretends he hasn't been seen and they both ignore the elephant in the room.)
...
(Luo Binghe had never been so horny in his whole life. How could someone as cold and neat as Shizun have so many drawings tattooed on his skin? Would he let Luo Binghe see them all, ever? Did he only have those, did he have more? What drawings were they? What meanings would they have? Would Shizun take needles and ink and put a drawing over Luo Binghe's heart? His Shizun couldn't refuse that, Luo Binghe would say that the only way to make it safe would be with the help of his Shizun... and he couldn't deny that Binghe had tattoos, considering all his own... Whatever his Shizun chose for him would be fine, just for having his Shizun making them on his skin so Luo Binghe could wear them forever...)
#svsss#svsss au#svsss ideas#mxtx svsss#scum villain's self saving system#luo binghe#shen yuan#shen qingqiu#bingqiu#luo bunhe#the tattooed shen qingqiu#(because of shen yuan)#does it makes sense? no#tattoo kink ????#if you squinted ????
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Jason Todd thought his need for touch had died with him.
Pairing: Jason Todd x afab reader
TW: Mentions of virginity, sexual themes, masturbation, mentions of death, mentions of body issues
1.5k Words (wow i can yap)
Part two
Jason Todd thought his need for touch had died with him. Decayed and rotted with his body after that faithful encounter with the Joker. And when he came back, he was happy to go without it.
Jason got all the touch he needed, he was in physical fights on a daily basis. Putting literal blood, sweat, and tears into it. Why would he need someone to patch him up after patrol or press gentle loving kisses to each his scars, of which he has many. Not that he stayed up at night thinking of those things. He does. But he goes without it. He refuses touch like an abused animal; scurrying away with his tail between his legs.
If someone asked him about his love life, heâd wave them off. Says heâs too busy and has actual important fucking things to do. He is also kinda embarrassed, not that heâll admit it to anyone. Even himself.
Then he met her. You.
Jason doesnât believe in love at first sight. Thinks itâs just lust with a fancy title, not that he would know. Heâs a 24 year old virgin, leave the poor guy alone, he died at 15. But, he does know that as soon as he saw you, something changed. Something fundamental in his genetic makeup changed. Something in the cosmos shifted. He felt a need like he hasnât felt since his before his resurrection. Not a sexual desire but a want to be close to someone. To be doted on and cared for. It disgusts him how much he craves it. How much he wants soft kisses and tooth decaying fluff.
It starts slow, agonizingly so. He doesnât trust easily but he also doesnât give up information easily so getting close to him is a hard battle. But, you steadily become a part of his life. And he yearns for your presence more than he cares to admit. He keeps coming back, even when he messes up. Maybe because heâs stubborn. Maybe because fate. Maybe because your presence makes his heart feel something it hasnât felt since his mother died and he causes that high. Youâre a trouper through it all. Supporting him when he ghosts you just to reappear with muttered apologies and half begging to hang out again. Heâs a huge guy with scars and muscle and before you got to know him, you were sure his body count was higher than his IQ. You were severally wrong about both.
In Jasonâs head, heâs got you wrapped around his finger but itâs really the opposite. He worships you and like hell isnât he gonna show it.
Somehow, against all odds, you end up dating. He has no idea how it happened. Youâre a goddess in his eyes and heâs.. well him. A traumatized brute of a man.
The first time you stay over, heâs so nervous he nearly barfs. Heâs scared youâre gonna ask for more, for sex or cuddling or something he just canât do right now, and heâs gonna have to say no. But you donât. You keep your distance and let him make the first move. You watch a movie together and he puts his hand on your thigh, heâs sweating bullets and is so giddy on the inside.
Soon, every other night is spent at the others house. At time, heâs kinda weird about sleeping but he drifts to you like a moth to a flame. He canât deny how complete he feels with you in his arms. He craves your affection like a man starved. He goes from not having his first kiss to full on make out sessions and he is a happy camper.
He doesnât tell you heâs a virgin but youâre not an idiot, you can tell. You can tell by how he stiffens when your hands go a little too low while you kiss. You can tell by how it took him months to even start sleeping without a shirt on and even now he wears sweatpants and keeps himself covered.
Youâre okay with it. Heâs worth it in your eyes.
He is not insecure per se but heâs aware that heâs not conventional. The first time you see his autopsy scar he looks like a scared puppy and it hurts your heart.
âI think youâre beautiful, Jasonâ you murmur, running your hand up his abdomen, tracing the red mark. He shivers and something shifts in his gut. Maybe he isnât ugly, because you wouldnât lie. And god knows you could have any man you want so he must be decent looking. Youâre an angel and god knows he will worship you until he has no life left to give.
Eventually he gets better at the small affection. Craves your touch, actually. He hugs you when he gets home and kisses you before he leaves. He learns to braid your hair and let you help him dye his. He acts as normal as he can manage.
He yearns for your affection, really. Heâs come to terms with it, but he doesnât know how to deal with the desire that has formed in his gut and wonât go away. He died before he could experience anything and you look so. fucking. good. And you smell good and you laugh at his stupid jokes and read the books he likes and oh my god heâs totally in love.
He doesnât tell you, not at first, not for a long while because love is dangerous and scary and if he messes this up he is sure heâll never forgive himself. But he shows you, in the little things.
One day youâre sitting on your shared, yes you moved in together, couch watching some random movie. Your legs are slung in his lap and he gently holds your calfs. You laugh along with the movie, pointing out things and just being you and he feels his pants growing tighter. He panics. He doesnât want to make you uncomfortable and the pang in his gut every time you shift isnât a good sign. Except that youâve been dating a little over a year and youâve been aching for your big hot boyfriend but youâre obviously not gonna push him to do something heâs not comfortable with.
He awkwardly excuses himself to the bathroom and stares in the mirror for what seems like hours. Who is he to be lusting over you? He doesnât deserve you and he doesnât what to look like a perv, even if itâs his own girlfriend.
His dick is so hard it hurts and he squeezes it till near pain, willing it to soften up so he can go back in there. He ends up jacking off thinking about you. He does that more than he cares to admit.
Weeks later, after yet another awkward moment of his scampering off when you get too close. You address it.
âJason, honey, can i ask you something?â
He swallows, stiffening. âYeah.â
âFeel free to correct me if iâm talking nonsense but I uh-â you take a breath, god how do you even say this. âI donât want to pressure you or anything, iâm just bringing it up. Desiring your partner is normal, Jay. If- if you want that, thatâs normal and encouraged.â You swallow. He blinks. Sea foam eyes studying you in that intense way that either makes you squirm in intimidation or because your guts fluttering.
âHave i been that obvious?â he finally says and you smile.
That night he stays up thinking. You said itâs okay to want that but is he okay with what that could mean? sure, everything he was in the shower, or pretty much anytime he was alone at this point, he would think of you, your scent, your laugh, and would come so hard he saw stars. But masturbation and sex were very different things and as much as he craves that depth of physical intimacy, he was scared.
You guys have a conversation, he actually fully opens up and you decide youâll try. It takes a couple tries. You take the lead. Making it natural, letting make out sessions turn into you on his lap. Grinding and panting before he swallows and tells you to stop. Of course you do. This happens a few times and everytime he feels so bad. Yes, he wants you so bad it hurts but until recently he had lacked to think of your side. You have been dating for a year and a half and hadnât done anything. Heâd be scared youâd leave him over it if he didnât know you so well.
Jason lies awake at night just staring at you, absentmindedly grinding against your ass before he realizes himself and scoots away to put as much distance between you. You whine from the cold and scoot to him. He kisses the top of your head and makes a decision right there, heâs going to fuck you if itâs the last thing he does.
And heâs praying to any god thatâll listen that he can make it good for you. Heaven knows he worships you more than anything and would rather die than you get no pleasure out of it.
Iâm writing a part two but I would also love to do detailed stories on the first kiss or something so please give requests! thanks, babes.
@cyberangel-graphics
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#dc comics#dcu#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you#dc x reader
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âyou know what else is pink?â
WARNINGS: roomate!jihoon, smut, ...pink cock, blowjob/handjob, penetrative sex, squirt, overstimulation.
WC: 2.7K
[got inspiration from this tiktok]
jihoonâs got this routine down, locked in. you hear the clatter of keys in the door at exactly 9:17 PM, every night without fail. he comes in smelling like roasted coffee beans and vanilla syrup, a backpack slung over one shoulder, andâof courseâthat little paper cup in hand as he kicked the door shut behind him with that little flick of his heel.
âgot your poison,â he says, tossing the pink monstrosity onto the table in front of you. It lands with a soft thunk, condensation already forming on the sides, and the sight alone is enough to make you grin like a damn idiot.
âthanks, hoon,â you say, grabbing it immediately and taking a sip like you havenât had this exact drink every day for months. itâs sweet as hell, tastes like summer and cavities, but you canât help it. youâre obsessed.
jihoon just shrugs like itâs nothingâlike he didnât go out of his way to snag this for you, again.
he chuckles, already moving toward the bathroom while shrugging off his jacket. âyou know what else is pink?â
your brain short-circuits. immediately. you blink up at him like heâs just asked you to solve the riddle of the sphinx.
âh-hm?â
he pauses, halfway out of his jacket, and tilts his head back to look at you. a mischievous little smirk stretches across his face, his pearly-ass veneers catching the shitty overhead lighting.
âhuh?â jihoon mirrored you, raising his eyebrows all innocent.
youâre left thinking about his elbows now, how theyâre faintly pink at the joints, a soft flush that spreads to his cheeks when itâs too hot in the apartment. his knees, the curve of them when he sits cross-legged on the couch watching anime. the way his nipplesâgod, why are you thinking about his nipplesâstand out when heâs shirtless, all pale skin and rosy peaks.
and yeah, okay. you know exactly what he meant.
the âpink drinkâ sat in your hand, cold and totally innocent, unlike the mental image now burning in your skull.
[...]
the sound of him moving around in the bedroom after his shower is, like, a damn magnet pulling you in. youâve been pacing the kitchen like a lunatic, the pink frappuccino now safely tucked away in the fridge because thereâs no way in hell youâre gonna stomach all that milk with what youâre about to do. your heartâs doing that stupid fast thing, but youâre already walking down the hallway, bare feet quiet against the floor.
the bedroom door is cracked open, and you catch him just as heâs hanging his towel up. his backâs to you, but even from here, you can see how his shoulders move when he stretches, pale skin almost glowing under the shitty warm light of the bedroom. and those shorts are barely covering anything, and his legs look even paler against the fabric.
he runs both hands through his wet hair, brushing it back in that way that makes it stick up all messy, and for a second, you just stand there leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, watching him like a creep. your bottom lip tugs between your teeth as you try to psych yourself up, but nah, fuck it, youâre already moving. you push off the wall and walk straight up to him. he doesnât even have time to turn around fully before your hands are on him, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbles backward.
âyoââ he starts, but his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sits down with a soft oof, bracing himself on his elbows.
his eyes snap up to meet yours, wide. âwhatâs this about?â
you step closer, standing between his knees, grabbing his chin with your fingers to tilt his head up.
âoh?â he breathes out, his smirk faltering just a bit when your thumb brushes over his bottom lip.
âyeah. oh,â you shoot back, your voice sharper than the shaky confidence youâre working with. you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands trailing down his torso, the little bodyhairs raising up to meet your palm, fingers dragging over that pale skin. his breath catches, and he shifts, spreading his legs just enough for you to settle between them.
you tug at the waistband of those godforsaken shorts, sliding them down. and there it is, the very thing he hinted at earlierâexactly like you knew heâd be, flushed and already half-hard, the head its almost the same shade of your drink, but more human-skin-like, and fuck, you're probably going to think about it everytime he hands you the drink. his breath hitches again when your hand wraps around him.
âwhatâs wrong?â you tease, tilting your head, your thumb swiping over the tip to smear the bead of wetness there.
âah-ah-shitââ he mutters, his voice strained. you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, then lower, leaving a trail of warmth as your lips move closer.
he lets out this shaky little laugh, but it breaks off into a hiss when you lean in, your lips brushing over the tip, like you're about to taste it, before wrapping around him completely. his lungs get full of air before moaning all way in while he exhales and you swear youâve never felt more smug in your life.
his hand comes up to cover his mouth, like heâs trying to muffle the sounds spilling out of him, but itâs useless. the little gasps, the way his voice breaks on your nameâitâs making you swallow him in.
your hand moves in partnership with your mouth, stroking him in time with the way your tongue works over every inch of him. when you glance up, his head is tipped back, eyes half-closed, lips parted, and he looks like he is winning a bliss.
âyouâre so fuckingâgoodâ he stammers, his voice cracking halfway through. âholy shit, keepâkeep going.â
you donât stop, not even when his thighs start trembling under your hands, not even when heâs biting down on his knuckles to keep himself from being too loud.
you hollow your cheeks as you pull back, dragging your lips over him until you reach the tip with a wet, obscene pop.
âjesus fuckingââ he chokes out, but his words cut off when you lower your head, tongue dragging along the sensitive seam of his sack like youâre savoring it. you can feel the way his thighs tense on your sides, trembling like heâs caught between pulling away and leaning into you.
your hand is still wrapped around him, firm that his cockhead gets red, keeping that steady rhythm while your tongue works over the delicate skin below.
he lifts his head to look down at you, his lips parted in disbelief, sweat glistening on his forehead. âyouâwhat the fuck are you doing?â
âwhatâs it look like?â you quip back, grinning up at him before wrapping your lips around his balls again, taking one side into your mouth gently. his reaction is instantâhis hips roll under your mouth, and his eyes, roll back.
âthis isâholy shitâthis is fucked up.â
you hum around him, taking your time, switching to the other side, your tongue lavishing the sensitive skin as you work him over. âfucked up?â you echo between breaths, lips brushing against him. âsounds like youre enjoying it.â
his hand flies up to cover his face, fingers digging into his own hair. he groans, his hips betraying him, twitching toward your mouth like heâs chasing the feeling.
you lean back in, your mouth hot and wet against his cock again, taking him deeper this time, your tongue tracing patterns as you move.
âfuckâfuckâyouâre gonnaââ his eyes squeeze shut as he lets grits his teeth, failing to hold his whimpers, spilling over himself and inside your mouth.
you donât stop until youâre sure heâs ridden it out completely, pulling back slowly, your lips slick and swollen, jaw aching, as you wipe your mouth with your thumb.
âyou okay there?â
âi donât think okay covers it...â he grimaces.
âguess iâll take that as a compliment.â
âyou should.â he says, his lips quirking into the faintest smile.
he tilts his head back, his eyes hooded and his lips curling into a lazy smirk as he lifts his hand, tapping his thigh in that slow, cocky way he knows you canât resist. âcâmereâ
you hesitate, for a second, before standing and moving toward him. his gaze stays locked on you, and you feel the weight of it like a physical thing. as you straddle his lap, your dress rides up, pooling around your hips, and his hands are already on you, one gripping your waist while the other skims up your thigh.
he pulls you closer, his lips meeting yours in a kiss thatâs anything but gentle. when his tongue drags along your bottom lip, tasting the faint saltiness of himself there, he lets out an obscene groan.
âyou taste like me,â he murmurs, his breath hot against your mouth before he licks along your lip again, slower this time. his teeth catch the tender skin, biting just enough to sting before he pulls back, tugging your lip between his teeth with a smirk.
your hands grip his shoulders to steady yourself as his hand slides lower, over the curve of your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. âbeen waiting all night to do this,â he mutters, as his fingers dip under the hem of your dress.
before you can process whatâs happening, he hooks a finger under the side of your panties, tugging sharply until the fabric tears with a quiet rip. you feel the ruined cloth hanging loosely against your skin as his fingers brush over the now-bare flesh.
you open your mouth to protestâsomething about him owing you a new pairâbut the words die in your throat when you see him lift his hand to his mouth, his tongue dragging along the length of his fingers.
the sight alone has your breath hitching, your thighs twitching around his. he catches the movement, his smirk widening as he pulls his fingers from his mouth, his free hand squeezing your waist as his other hand trails back down.
when his fingers meet your drenched cunt, he spreads the wetness, the wet noise that follows making your cheeks flush even as your body leans into his touch. he circles sensitive hole at your center, and he chuckles low in his throat when you let out a shaky breath.
âyouâre already so wet.â
he shifts under you, leaning back as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly to see if his cock hardens again. his jaw tightens, a sharp exhale slipping past his lips as his head tips back. âshit,â he mutters, eyes fluttering shut for a second before they snap open to find you, perched right there on his thighs, looking like a fucking fever dream. âof course, itâs you. of course it works.â
and yeah, you donât really get what he means by that, because heâs brushing himself against you now, dragging just the tip along where youâre already sdripping
âfuck,â he hisses, wincing as his hips buck up just a little. âso sensitiveââ his words cut off with a low groan when you shift, your hands steadying yourself on his shoulders as you sink down.
âoh my god,â you choke out, the sensation swamping the second you take him in. âoh my god, hoonâholy shitâthis is so good.â
he lets out this strangled laugh, âyeah?â he rasps, his voice breaking a little at the end. âfeels good?â
âso fucking good,â you breathe, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to move, your hips rolling against him in these desperate little motions. youâre not even trying to play it coolâyouâre too far gone for that, babbling about how full he feels, how perfect, how youâve never felt anything like this.
and heâs just watching you, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, looking dazed and a little wrecked, but thereâs this smug glint in his eyes, like he is so fucking proub about how horny he made you.
his hands slide up your thighs, gripping tight like heâs trying to slow you down, but you donât let him. youâre too caught up in the feeling, too desperate for more, and the way he whimpers when you move faster makes you coat him even wetter,
âslow down,â he tries, his voice cracking as his head falls back. âs-slowângh!â
but you donât slow down. you go harder, grinding down on him like youâre trying to burn the feeling into your skin. ân-no,â you whine, your hands bracing against his chest. âyou started this, hoon. you wanted to tease me? then t-ake it.â
his laugh is sharp and breathy, but it cuts off with a low, throaty groan when you move just right, your hips snapping against his in this perfect rhythm that has his head spinning.
âfuck, okay,â he chokes out, but it dosent last a second, his hands flying to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks as he tries to slow you down. âokay, okay, justâfuckâslowâa little, babe, please, iâmââ
you donât listen. too far gone to register anything beyond the way he feels inside you, the way his body tenses under yours, the way his voice gets high pitch with every ragged breath.
âgonna kill me,â he groans, his hands trembling as they guide your hips into a slower rhythm, even though you can tell heâs fighting himself just as much as heâs fighting you.
he grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he finally, finally uses his strength to slow you down, forcing you to move at his pace. itâs infuriating and perfect all at once because the shift makes his tip angle just right.
when it brushes against that spot inside you, your whole body jerks. your mouth falls open in a silent scream, no sound coming out except for a broken gasp, and your hips stutter helplessly in his hands, trying to chase the feeling even as he keeps you firmly in place.
he lets out a low, relieved laugh, his voice rough but still so maddeningly smug as he leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. âsee?â he murmurs, his tone soft and cooing, like heâs teasing and praising you all at once. âisnât that good? like this? hm?â
before you can even respondâhell, before you can even thinkâhe does it again, using his arms to guide your hips, rolling them slowly, to make him hit that same spot. and this time, the moan that tears from your throat is loud, followed by another and another, until youâre shaking so hard youâre not even sure youâre in control of your body anymore.
âfuck,â he breathes, his grip tightening as he keeps you moving, steady and devastating. âso pretty like this. so perfect.â
you barely hear him, too lost in the way heâs making you feel, your moans spilling out one after another as the pressure inside you builds higher and higher, until itâs too much. your body seizes, your walls clenching around him so hard that he hiccups. and then it happensâa sudden, blinding orgasm that has you gasping, a liquid warmth spilling out of you in an uncontrollable squirt.
âholy shit,â he mutters as he feels it, the slickness making him slip out of you as you convulse in his lap.
he doesnât even have time to react properly before the sight of you trembling and moaning in his armsâis enough to make him cum. his hand flies to the swollen cock, stroking once, twice, before heâs coming hard, spilling onto the floor. whining and rolling his hips onto his hand.
for a long moment, the both of you cant move, both of you too fucked and out of breath to do anything but sit there.
eventually, your gaze drifts downward, and your eyes land on himâstill hard, still twitching slightly, the entire length of him glistening and⌠pink. ridiculously pink, especially at the head where itâs darker, flushed from how tight youâd been squeezing him.
you blink, your brain still foggy, and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind: âyou werenât kidding about the pink thing.â
he snorts, now shyly, his head tipping forward to rest against your shoulder as he laughs. âtold you... thank god pinkâs kind of your thing.â
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen headcanons#svt imagines#seventeen#seventeen smut#svt smut#woozi smut#jihoon smut#lee jihoon smut#woozi imagines#jihoon imagines#lee jihoon imagines#woozi fanfic#woozi x reader#woozi x oc#woozi x y/n#woozi x you#jihoon x reader#jihoon x you#woozi reactions#jihoon reactions
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ELEVEN



pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of severe anemia; pregnancy; abortion
đMASTERLIST
Rafe sat in his truck outside the unassuming brick building for longer than heâd care to admit, over two hours. The sign out front read âCoastal Therapy Centerâ in simple, soothing letters, but nothing about this felt soothing.
Therapy.Â
If someone had told him just three months ago heâd be here, he would have laughed in their face. Therapy was for weak people, that was what Ward Cameron had drilled into him since he was a kid. It was the kind of shit heâd spent his whole life avoiding because, what was the point? Nothing ever changed. Not for him, not for his so-called family.
After his mom died, Wardâs solution was to bury itâall of it. Grief, pain, confusion. âCamerons donât cry,â heâd said. âWe keep moving forward.â But what if forward felt like walking through hell?
The door felt impossibly far away, but he knew he had to get out.
âGet your shit together man,â he muttered under his breath.
He could hear his dadâs voice in his head, unforgiving. Weak. Pathetic. That same voice had driven him for years, pushed him to be stronger, tougher, to bury every fucking thing he felt. But it wasnât Wardâs voice that mattered now, it was yours, the Picture of your eyes shining with tears the last time youâd spoken to him.
He glanced at the building again, still not knowing if he believed in it, if it could fix whatever was broken inside him. But he did know one thing: if he didnât at least try, heâd lose you for good.
Rafe exhaled sharply, shoving open the truck door, but before he walked it, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. His fingers fumbled with the lighter, the flame sputtering before finally catching. He took a drag, the smoke burning his lungs in a way that almost felt good.
He exhaled slowly, watching the gray wisps disappear into the air. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. He should just leave. Get back in the truck, drive somewhere, anywhere but here.Â
âFuck it,â he muttered, pushing himself off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the door. One foot in front of the other, he told himself, although it felt like walking to his own execution.The waiting room was quiet, with soft music playing in the background.Â
He hated it already. He didnât belong here, but he chose to stay, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt like a bitch. He couldnât stop his legs from bouncing as he waited for the receptionist to notice him.
When she eventually looked up and smiled, he nodded stiffly, avoiding her. He didnât want her kindness. Didnât deserve it. Rafe wasnât sure what he was supposed to say when he walked into that first session.Â
He didnât know how to explain the mess, the voices in his head, the anger that raged over and the guilt that followed like a shadow. But he knew why he was here.
When the therapist finally called his name, Rafe hesitated for half a second before standing. She looked normal enoughâglasses, sweater, clipboardâbut it still made his skin crawl. He felt like she could see through him, as if she already knew all the shit heâd done and thought and didnât want to admit to anyone, especially himself.
âRafe?â she called again, her voice patient. He didnât deserve that either, but he nodded and followed her to the room.
It was small, the kind of place that made him feel like a caged animal, he sat on the couch because what the hell else was he supposed to do, and stared at the floor, picking at a thread on his jeans.
âSo,â she started, sitting across from him, crossing her legs like this was just a normal conversation. âWhat brings you here today?â
 âHuh, what doesnât?â he said before he could stop himself. He glanced up at her, half expecting her to kick him out right there.
But she didnât, instead she simply nodded, like she got it, sheâd heard worse.Â
âOkay,â she said. âLetâs start with whatever feels the hardest.â
He leaned back, running a hand over his face.Â
Where the fuck was he even supposed to start? His mom dying? His dad? The drugs, the fights, the hole heâd dug so deep he wasnât sure heâd ever crawl out? Or maybe with you, with the way heâd pushed you away until you had no choice but to hate him?
âI donât know,â he said finally. His eyes stayed glossed over on a spot on the carpet âI guess...uh, I should start with my mom, right? She died when I was fourteen. Leukemia.â
The therapist didnât say anything, just nodded like she was giving him space to keep going. He hated the silence, how much it made him feel, but he kept going, because if he was going to do this shit right, he might as well not half-ass it.
ââIâm sorry to hear that,â she said gently. âWhat do you remember most about her? What was she like?â
Rafeâs lips twitched, âShe was⌠everything, yâknow?â His throat felt sore, âI know everyone says that shit about their mom, but she really was. She was the one who kept everything together. When my dad was beingââÂ
He stopped short, his jaw twitching at how hard he bite his tongue.
âWhen he was being what?â the therapist prompted.
âWhen he was being him, she was the one whoâd step in. Sheâd tell him to back off, that I was just a kid, or that I didnât deserve whatever shit he was throwing at me that day. She was the only one who ever really had my back.â
âHow did losing her affect your relationship with your dad?â
âIt changed everything. When she got sick, it was like⌠I donât know, like everything just fell apart. She was the glue, yâknow? Without her, my dad justâhe went full-on Ward Cameron.â
His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard, âI remember the day she died,â he said after a long pause. âI thought Iâd have more time. They kept saying it was bad, but I didnât think it would happen that day. And then it did. Just like that.â
He rubbed his hands together, the motion frantic, restless. âI didnât even cry. I just sat there, staring at the floor while my dad kept saying, âWeâll get through this. Weâre Camerons. We donât fall apart.â And I was like, okay, I guess thatâs what weâre doing then. Not falling apart. Just⌠moving forward.â
âWhat does that mean to you, âfull-on Ward Cameronâ?â
âIt means he turned me into his fucking project.â
âDid he ever talk to you about what you were feeling? About how hard it was to lose her?â the therapist asked, her tone pointed.
âNo,â Rafe said immediately,âMy dad never wanted to talk about it. He acted like it was this... inconvenience. Yeah, he was sad, but he just buried it, wanted me to do the same.â
âWhat do you mean by that?â she prompted
Rafe let out a bitter laugh.Â
âIâm the oldest, out of three. Not just the oldestâ the only son. Wen she died, my dad decided I had to step up, be the man of the house. Take care of my sisters, keep everything running smoothly. Be his goddamn mini-me, like that was even possible. I was fourteen, but that shit didnât matter. My dad expected me to bury all the shit I was feeling, I had to be twice as strong because I was the only man left.â
âHow did that make you feel?â she asked, her tone measured but firm.
âHow do you think it made me feel?â he snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He sighed, leaning forward again and dropping his head into his hands. âShit, sorry,â he muttered. âI didnât mean toâŚâ
âItâs okay,â she nodded, not the least bit fazed, âBut I think itâs important to answer that question. How did it make you feel?â
âLike shit,â he admitted after a long pause. âI couldnât do anything right. I was pissed at him for putting all of that on me, pissed at my sister for needing me, pissed at her for dying and leaving me with all this. And most of all, pissed at myself because no matter what I did, it was never enough. Not for him, not for me.â
âDo you think you could have stopped it?â the therapist asked softly.
Rafeâs head snapped up at that, but then he shook his head. âNo,â he admitted, âI know I couldnât, it wasnât my fault. But it felt like it was, if Iâd been betterâsmarter, strongerâshe wouldâve stayed. Or at least⌠she wouldâve been proud of me for trying.â
He hasn't said it out loud since that night, with you.
She pursed her lips, as she took notes, âYou should give yourself more credit, for how much youâve survived.â
âCredit? For what? Being a fuck-up?â
She barely looked up from her notebook, changing the direction of her questions, âWhat do you think your mom would say to you now, if she could?âÂ
Rafeâs throat tightened, and he looked away, âI donât know. Fuck, maybe... maybe sheâd say sheâs proud of me for being here. For trying to fix it, even if I shouldâve done it years ago,â He paused, swallowing hard. âShe probably would think Iâm a fucking idiot, I pushed away the one person who actually fucking mattered.â
âWhoâs that?â the therapist asked gently.
âMy girlfriend,â He bit his tongue, the word stinging, âEx-girlfriend now, I guess. After my dad died, I justâI started pushing her away. Picking fights over Ward, shutting her out when she tried to help me see the truth about him,â He swallowed hard, his throat burning.Â
He hadnât expected to feel this vulnerable, but now that heâd started talking about you, about what heâd ruined, it was hard to stop.
âSheâs the one, yâknow?â he muttered, his voice distant as though he was speaking to himself more than anyone else. âI fucked it all up.â
âWhat happened?â
Rafe let out a shaky breath.
âI was an asshole. I told her I didnât need her, that she should just leave, like it wasnât me who was the fuckinâproblem. She didâshe left, thought if I cut her loose or pushed her away, maybe I wouldnât feel so fucking broken. Maybe if I wasnât constantly looking at her and seeing everything I couldnât be, I could... I donât know. Get my shit together or some bullshit.â He rubbed his temples, frustration mounting âBut then, like a fucking idiot, I started seeing someone else. All I could think about was how much it would hurt her if she found out. And it did.â His voice cracked, âIt fucking destroyed her, I knew it would. Thatâs the worst partâI fucking knew, and I still let it happen, like the selfish piece of shit I am.â
He pressed his palms to his eyes, hoping it could block out the memory of youâyour tear-streaked face.
âWhat do you think that relationship was about?â
His fists clenched again, âA distraction? I thought if I just... started fresh, started with someone who didnât know all my baggage, someone who wouldnât make me feel like I was constantly failing, I could just... forget. Forget everything. Forget her, forget my dad, forget how fucked up I was.â
âAnd did it help you forget?â she asked, her voice steady, but full of understanding.
âNo,â He gritted out, âI couldnât stop thinking about her, even when I was with someone else. Every time I closed my eyes, it was her face I saw. Her voice I heard in my head, telling me I could do better, be better. Shit, all I could do was prove her wrong.â
The therapist leaned forward slightly, her expression compassionate. âIt sounds like she means a great deal to you.â
âTalking about her,â He paused, wincing as if he was in physical pain, âSheâs justâfuck, manâsheâs always in my head. Itâs worse than talking about my parents, worse than remembering my mom dying or my dad. Because with them, itâs just... loss, yâknow? Her? I had her, she was there. She loved me, and I ruined it.â
âWhat do you think she would say to you now, if she could hear this?â the therapist suggested, âYou donât have to think about it, if you donât want to.â
Rafeâs breath hitched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He chuckled, but it came out jagged âShit, that sounded real fuckinâ pathetic, huh? I canât even talk about her without losing my shit.â
âItâs not pathetic. Give it a try.â
âI donât know,â He sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise, âThat itâs too late? Sheâs done with me, and I deserve it. I think sheâd still tell me to get my shit together and sheâs proud of me for trying, even if Iâm still the same fucked-up mess I was when she left, even if she hates me. Thatâs the kind of person she is.â His throat tightened again, and he looked away. âBut even if she did, it doesnât change the fact that I broke her heart.â
The therapist let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. âItâs clear that youâre carrying a lot of pain, not just from losing her, but from how you see yourself in all of this. Have you ever thought about what it might look like to forgive yourself?â
âForgive myself?â Rafe repeated, his voice incredulous. He shook his head, scoffing. âI donât even... know what that would look like, yâknow?â His leg started bouncing again, the restless energy coursing through him. âHow do you even do that? Is there, uh, like, a fucking manual or something for that shit?â His voice cracked on the last word, and he shook his head, âI keep replaying it. All the shit I said to her.â
The therapist didnât say anything, just watched him, her expression poised. He hated that, how calm she was when he felt like he was losing it.
He huffed, leaning back against the couch. âI mean, yeah, maybe thatâs why Iâm here. I donât even know where to fucking start. Itâs justâfuck, itâs just a lot. Too much.â
âItâs a lot of guilt for just one person, Rafe,â she pointed out, âYour mom, your dad, your relationship. And I think youâre rightâtalking about it wonât change the past, but it might help you figure out how to move forward.â
He scoffed âYeah, okay. Move forward. Sounds easy enough.â
âItâs not easy,â she admitted. âBut itâs possible. You donât have to figure it all out today, or even next month.âÂ
âI donât even know where to start.â
âYouâve already started,â she pointed out. âYouâre here.â
Youâre here.Â
Those two words rattled around in his skull. He was here, but why? To make himself feel better? To prove to himselfâor youâthat he could do this, could change? Did he even believe that?
He thought about the nights he spent pacing his room, phone in hand, your number glowing on the screen. Heâd wanted to call, to apologize, to beg, but he couldnât. What would he even say?Â
Rafe let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his foot tapping out an uneven rhythm. He didnât have it in him to argue, not anymore.Â
âYeah,â he muttered, âIâm here.â
He was there, sure, but the room still felt small, the air dirty, his own body too restless to sit still for another second. His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, his nails biting into the fabric of his leviâs.
âYou say youâre a mess, but youâre here,â the therapist said after a moment, her tone even. âYouâre talking about it, trying to figure out what went wrong and what you can do to make it right. That doesnât sound like someone whoâs given up.â
He wanted her to push, to give him a reason to bolt out of there, to justify why this whole thing was a stupid mistake. But she didnât, she was waiting like she had all the time in the world.
âWhyâs it gotta be like this, huh? Why does everything have to hurt so f-fucking much? Why canât I just... be normal? Like everyone else?â
âNormal is a lot more complicated than it looks. What does ânormalâ mean to you?â
He scoffed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. âI donât know. Not waking up every day feeling like... like thereâs this weight on my chest.â
She nodded slowly, her gaze firm but not invasive. âThat sounds exhausting.â
âYeah, well, welcome to my life,â he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. âItâs like... I canât turn it off, yâknow?â He gestured vaguely at himself, at the space around him. âItâs just there. Always.â
âYou mentioned earlier that you feel like youâre not enough,â she said, her tone thoughtful. âNot enough for who?â
âFor anyone,â he said immediately, then paused, his throat tightening. âFor my dad, for my sisters... for her. I mean, shit, if I canât even be enough for me, how the fuck am I supposed to be enough for anyone else?â
The therapist smiled faintly, not unkindly. âThatâs what weâre here to understand.â
Two hours later and 300$ short, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat, the screen lighting up with two missed calls and a flood of texts. All from Topper.Â
Rafe grabbed the phone, unlocking it with his thumb and scrolling through the messages.
Topper: âBro. SOS.â âI think she hates me.â âLike, actually hates me.â âCall me back. This is a situation.â
He huffed out a breath, tossing the phone back onto the seat. âJesus Christ,â he muttered. Topperâs idea of a crisis was probably that your coffee order had foam when you wanted oat milk or some shit.
Rafe rubbed his temples knowing he wasnât exactly in a position to play mediator.Â
The last call came in five minutes ago, he muttered, âWhat the fuck did you do now?â and hit the call button.
Topper picked up on the first ring.
âRafe!â Topperâs voice was a messâ frantic, breathless, like heâd just run a marathon. âOkay, okay, itâs officialâsheâs gonna kill me or usââ
âTop, what the fuck are you talking about?â He snapped, already annoyed.
âIâuhâDid you tell her I told you?â Topper stammered. âBecause she blocked me, everywhere. She told me, âNever speak to me again,â and blocked me! Iâm dead. Sheâs gonna cut me off for good, man.â
Rafe bit the inside of his cheek, âI didnât, but Sarah knows you know.â
âWhy would you tell her?â Topper grumbled out, âYou know she hates me too. Sheâs the enemy.â
âSheâs my sister you fuckinâ idiot.â
âSemantics.â
Rafe leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling of his truck. He wanted to hang up, but Topperâs desperation was almost pathetic enough to make him stick around
His friend fell silent for a moment. Then, quietly: âYou think sheâs gonna be okay? I mean, with everything?â
âI donât know. But sheâs strong. Sheâs gonna do what she needs to doâwhether weâre in the picture or not.â
Topper swallowed audibly. âSo⌠what do I do?â
Rafe sighed, âGive her space. Just⌠back off and let her come to you. If she even wants to.â
âItâs kinda crazy, right? Asking you for advice? For the longest time, you were public enemy number one. You, the big, bad ex who broke her heart.â Topperâs laugh was nervous, he knew he was pushing it but couldnât stop himself. âNow she hates me more. Like, I dethroned you. Thatâs wild.â
 âYeah, hilarious,â he muttered.
Topper either didnât catch the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. âA real plot twist. I knew Iâd screw up eventually, but I didnât think Iâd ever top your record.â
âTopper,â Rafe growled, âthis isnât a fuckinâ joke. You donât even know the half of it.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean? You mean, like⌠she really hates you, orâŚ?â
Wow.
Rafe clicked his tongue in annoyance, âThe fuck you think?â
"Wait, wait," Topper said quickly, his voice climbing. "You still havenât asked her? Confirmed all this? What if Iâwhat if I misunderstood or something?"
His eyes squeezed shut, as if the sheer force of Topperâs stupidity might give him an aneurysm. "Yeah, fuckin' genius. Because itâs so easy to ask someone who wonât even look at me, let alone talk to me."
"Okay, okay, fair," Topper admitted, âYour sister couldâ help.â
âAgain Top, be fucking serious.â
"Yeah, okay, nevermind. But what if itâs not true? What if I made things worse for no reason?"
"You did make things worse," Rafe snapped, his patience hanging by a thread. "Youâre lucky she hasnât shown up at your door to shoot you.â
"Not helping, dude," Topper muttered, then hesitated. "So⌠whatâre you gonna do? I mean, if she wonât talk to you, if Sarah wonât fess up, howâre you gonna know for sure? What if she really isâyâknowâand youâre just sitting here like a dumbass, waiting for a miracle?"
Rafe opened his eyes, staring blankly at the dashboard. Topper wasnât wrong, but hearing it said out loud made his stomach burn, especially after he just spent a good fucking hour talking about you, pouring his feelings out to a stranger he paid for.
Was he wasting timeâtime you needed him to be stepping up?
"I donât know what the fuck Iâm doing, okay? I want to know, butâsheâs got every right to hate me, man. How am I supposed to just⌠show up and ask her something like that, huh?â
Topper exhaled loudly, his usual bravado replaced with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Yeah, I guess youâre kinda in a lose-lose situation. Damn. Thatâs rough, bro."
"Thanks for the insight. Real helpful," Rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face.
âSheâs blocking me, sheâs not talking to youâyou think sheâs just gonna wake up one day and decide to make it easy for us? For you?"
Rafe sighed, "No. Sheâs not."
"So⌠whatâs the move?"
Rafe stared out the windshield, his heart pounding in his chest. What was the move? He didnât have an answer.
"Guess Iâll figure it out," he said finally, voice rough around the edges.
Topper hummed thoughtfully. "Well, uh, good luck with that. And, yâknow, if you figure it out⌠let me know if Iâm, like, still alive in her eyes or if I should start preparing for witness protection."
Rafe rubbed his forehead, trying to avoid the headache that was building behind his eyes. "Youâre on your own there.â
"Fair," Topper said lightly, âShit, this is depressing. We should go on a boat ride tomorrow.â
A boat day? He could almost hear the suggestion in Topper's voice: a desperate, half-hearted attempt to get away from it all.
"Yeah," Rafe hummed, "Maybe.â
"Seriously, though, it might help," Topper said, but he could tell the guy was genuinely losing it, "Get out on the water, clear our heads, get some space.â
Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the dashboard âSpace,â he repeated hollowly. Empty. "Yeah, I guess.â
Topper's voice came through again, sounding more serious "Just don't stay in your head too long, man. Don't get stuck there. You deserve a break too.â
Maybe the boat ride was the kind of distraction he needed to stop the spiral heâd been going down over the past few days. To stop thinking about all the things he couldnât fix right now.
"Alrighâ, weâll do the boat thing."
Topper, as if relieved that Rafe was playing along, responded with a chuckle. âSweet. Iâll get the cooler ready. Itâll be good. Iâll try not to drive you completely insane.â
âDonât make any promises,â He rolled his eyes, feeling the tension in his body soothe slightly, though it was still thereâa bruise that hadn't healed.
The call ended shortly after, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.
He glanced at the phone, the notifications still lighting up with messages from Topper. He barely glanced at them, his mind turning instead to you, as always. To the things he should have said, the things he should have done. To the feeling of you slipping farther away, out of his reach, out of his life.
He didnât know what the hell he was doing anymore, didnât know how to fix any of this.Â
He just knew that at least for a little while, he wouldnât have to be alone with his thoughts.
You were at ponguelandia again for the night, it wasnât exactly where you wanted to be, but beggars canât be choosers, right?
Sarah had insisted, practically dragged you here after hearing about your âsevere anemiaâ situation. Add the fact that carrying the baby could fuck up your health to the point where youâd be bedridden for the rest of your life (or worse), and it was a recipe for a meltdown.Â
You couldnât be alone right now, not after all that. Being around people was better than being alone.Â
Her and John B were being everything you needed, so youâd put on a happy face and pretend you werenât dying inside. They were doing their whole supportive couple thing, and it was almost everything you neededâif it werenât also so annoyingly them. Could they be more in love? Probably not. It was nauseating in the best and worst way, watching the life you couldâve had with someone else if things had turned out differently.
Then there was Kie and JJ. They were around, too, in their usual JJ-and-Kie way: watching you, but not prying, holding back out of respectâor pity. They knew youâd passed out on the beach two weeks ago and that you were âsick,â but Sarah had spared them the details. Small blessings, you guessed.
You were trying your best to keep up the whole "everythingâs fine" act, but it was getting exhausting. Sarah had been the one who knew the real storyâabout the anemia, the baby, the complicationsâand she was the only one who knew how much of a mess you were in.
Youâd asked her not to tell any of them. That didnât make the pretending any easier. All they knew was that you were feeling a little under the weather, run-down, nothing too serious. You didnât want to tell them. Theyâd never understand, not in the way you needed him to. Not when the issue was...everything.
You were curled up on the couch in their messy living room, a blanket thrown over your legs, you were trying to hide under it. You were just tired of pretending you werenât falling apart inside. But you could do it for Sarah, she deserved to have a normal night, one that wasnât filled with you sobbing in her arms.Â
John B was sitting on the other side of the couch, there was an awkward space between you two. Not in a bad way, just... you didnât really know him. He and Rafe had a history, to say things were tense between them was an understatement. But you liked him for Sarah, he treated her right.Â
That was more than you could say for a lot of people in her life, so... here you were.
Kie was sitting cross-legged on the armchair, holding a bottle of something that definitely wasnât soda, while JJ sprawled across the floor by her feet. John B had his arm slung casually around Sarah, who was perched on the couch between you and him, her body half-turned toward you as if she were ready to intervene at a momentâs notice.Â
Always watching, always waiting.
JJ tossed a pretzel at Kiara, which she caught without looking up.
âSo, tomorrowâs the big day,â he announced, grinning like a kid.
Kie rolled her eyes. âItâs not that big of a deal.â
âTo you,â he shot back, pointing dramatically. âTo me? Monumental. Legendary. Historic.â
Sarah groaned. âHeâs talking about the party,â she explained, bracing for your reaction.
âWhat party?â you asked, already regretting the question.
âJust a little thing at Poguelandia,â John B said casually, brushing popcorn crumbs off his jeans. âBonfire, some drinks, a couple of people. Nothing crazy, it's promotional."
 âA couple of people? Dude, half the islandâs gonna show up.â
John B shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. âItâs not a party unless itâs packed.â
âExactly,â JJ said, leaning back on his elbows. âYou have to come. Itâs gonna be sick.â
You made a face, âIâm not really in a party mood.â
Sarah turned to you immediately, her eyes wide and full of meaning. The look. The one that said, Câmon, you need this.
âItâd be fun,â she pouted, âYou could use a little fun right now.â
âIâm fine,â you said, avoiding her eyes and focusing on the popcorn in your lap. âI donât need a party to cheer me up.â
Kiara raised an eyebrow. âOh, come on. Just a chill day. You wonât even have to talk to anyone if you donât want to.â
âAnd thereâll be drinks,â JJ added with a wink. âOr, you know, drink-adjacent options for those who canât hang.â
For a second, your stomach almost dropped. Did he know? The way he said itâso casuallyâit almost felt like he did. It felt like he was teasing you in that obnoxious JJ way, but with an awareness that made you want to crawl out of your skin. But then logic kicked in.
They didnât know. Not about the baby, at least. As far as they were concerned, you were just sick. Which, to be fair, you were. âDrink-adjacentâ made sense because no one expected you to down shots when you could barely keep yourself upright most days.
Still, the comment made you uneasy, and your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.
âRight,â you grimaced, your voice stiff. âBecause nothing says âpartyâ like seltzer water.â
âThatâs the spirit. Weâll even get the fancy kind, with lime or whatever. Really roll out the red carpet for you.â
Kie snorted. âYouâre so generous, JJ.â
âHey, Iâm a man of the people baby,â he said, throwing his hands up like he was defending his honor.
Sarah nudged you again, harder this time, and you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. She was giving you that look again, the one that screamed, Just say yes already.
âYouâre not gonna let this go, are you?â you muttered, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to resigned.
âNope,â she said brightly.
You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. âFine. Iâll think about it.â
JJ whooped, pumping a fist in the air like youâd just agreed to crown him king of the Pogues. âThatâs what Iâm talking about!â
âI didnât say I was going. I said Iâd think about it.â
âYeah, yeah,â he said, waving you off like the details didnât matter. âThinking about it is basically saying yes.â JJ grinned at you, âBut yâknow,â he started, pointing a lazy finger in your direction, âitâs still kind of insane that youâre here. The literal kook of the kooks.â
You rolled your eyes, âAnd yet, here I am. Stuck with the pogues. Truly the highlight of my life.â
âAdmit it. You love it. The... gritty charm.â
âRight,â you casted a skeptical glance around the room. âBecause who wouldnât love the charm of beer-stained furniture, half-empty snack bags, and... whatever that smell is?â You wrinkled your nose for effect, though you werenât entirely joking.
The place was a dump.
John B chuckled from his corner of the couch, tossing a piece of popcorn at JJ. âSheâs not wrong, man. This place barely qualifies as livable.â
âLivable?â JJ looked mock-offended, clutching his chest like heâd been mortally wounded. âThis is prime real estate! You kooks donât appreciate the artistic chaos.â
Kiara looked up from her phone. âItâs chaos, all right.â
Sarah leaned toward you, her voice low and teasing. âDonât let him get to you. Heâs just salty you make this place look like a dump by comparison.â
âPlease,â JJ cut in, leaning forward, âThis place looks like a dump because it is a dump. But itâs our dump.â He grinned, flicking his eyes back to you. âAnd now, apparently, itâs yours too. Welcome to the family, kook princess.â
You snorted, unable to help yourself. âDonât get used to it.â
JJ clutched his chest again. âOuch. Cold. But fair.â
The truth was, you did think the place was terrible.Â
Objectively, it was, you already knew that since last week.
The furniture didnât match, the walls had stains you didnât want to think too hard about, and everything felt sticky, even if it wasnât. You were used to perfect beachfront properties with matching decor and staff that catered to your every whim. This? It was a wreck.
But at the same time, there was something about it that felt... alive. The chaos wasnât just chaosâit was theirs. The mismatched furniture, the random surfboards propped in corners, the lived-in feel of a space that wasnât trying to impress anyone. It made you hate it and love it all at once.
Your eyes flicked to Kie, who rolled hers at JJ but couldnât hide her smile. He said something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and she shoved his shoulder in mock annoyance. He grinned at her, that lazy grin he probably didnât even realize he saved just for her. And she was trying so hard to look unimpressed, but her expression softened anyway, she couldnât help herself.
Sarah caught you looking and smirked, nudging you. âCute, right?â she whispered.
You gave her a half-smile, more honest this time. âAnnoyingly so.â
JJ, oblivious to the exchange, flopped onto his back. âI donât know why you all keep insulting my hospitality. If this was a five-star resort, it wouldnât have vibes.â
âYeah, vibes of a condemned building,â you grumbled back, unable to help yourself.
And when everyone laughedâKieâs chuckle, Sarahâs giggle, JJâs full-blown cackleâyou hated yourself a little for loving it here, even as you pretended you didnât.
Would things have been different if you hadnât been born a Kook?
The thought hit you out of nowhere, unwelcomely, like it always did when you let your guard down. Would your family still be alive if you werenât wrapped up in the trappings of wealth and privilege? If your dad hadnât been able to afford that stupid private jet, if your mom hadnât insisted on using it for every family trip, if your sister hadnât tagged along on that one last flight...
It was a cruel, useless spiral of what-ifs that never went anywhere but still had you choking on guilt every time. Because it wasnât just the money. It was the whole stupid kook worldâthe private schools, the country clubs, the constant need to show off and be better than everyone else. That world had shaped your family, pushed them into the roles they played, and it had been the death of them, literally and figuratively.
You wondered, not for the first time, if they wouldâve been safer if youâd all been normal. Just some middle-class family driving to vacations in an old station wagon, complaining about rest-stop food and fighting over the radio. Maybe your parents wouldnât have been so busy, and maybe your sister wouldnât have been on that flight at all.
Your throat burned, and you blinked hard, trying to push the thoughts back where they belonged. The pogues were still talking, still laughing, completely unaware of the war blazing in your head.
âYouâre lucky to be here, kook princess. Youâre getting the real-life experience.â
You forced a weak smile, still staring at the popcorn. âThe real-life experience.â
If this was real life, you thought bitterly, maybe you wouldnât have so much to regret. Maybe youâd still have them. Maybe youâd even know who you were outside of the perfect, shiny bubble youâd grown up inâone that had popped so catastrophically you were still finding pieces of it in your skin.
Maybe if you hadnât been born a kook, you wouldnât have met Rafe when you were kids. You wouldnât have been his best friend, wouldnât have spent your whole childhood trailing after him, clinging to every crooked smile and reckless dare like they were proof that you mattered.
You wouldnât have fallen in love with him at sixteen, back when you thought love meant him driving you to the beach in his dadâs truck, his hand on your thigh, telling you you were the only person who really got him. You wouldnât have had your heart broken by him now, when he was with someone else. Your hand drifted to your stomach, a subconscious gesture that made your breath hitch. You wouldnât be pregnant with his kid, either. Or sick.
Youâd built this whole life around him without even realizing it.
Would it have been better? Not having Rafe at all?
You wanted to say yes. You wanted to imagine a version of your life where heâd never existed, where you didnât have his name carved into your heart. Where you werenât here now, still loving him. Where you werenât pregnant and alone while he was somewhere else.
The truthâthe awful, undeniable truthâwas that you couldnât imagine your life without him.
For all the ways heâd broken you, Rafe had been the one to hold you together when everything else fell apart, the one who pulled you out of bed when you couldnât find the strength, who made you laugh when you thought youâd forgotten how.
If it werenât for him, you didnât know if youâd even be here now.
And you wouldnât trade the sound of his laugh for anything in the world. Not the condescending biting one he used to throw around when he was being an ass, but the real one, the one that came out when he was caught off guard.Â
Even if you hated him, you couldnât regret him. Not all the way. Not enough to wish heâd never been in your life. Despite all of itâheâd been there when no one else was, that was enough to keep him tethered to your heart, even now, when you wished it wasnât.
âEarth to princess,â Kiara's voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the dimly lit room and the blanket over your legs. She waved a hand in front of your face, âYou still with us, or are you planning your escape route?â
You forced a smile, âJust trying to figure out how I got roped into your weird little cult, thatâs all.â
They laughed, the sound was bright enough to pull you out of your head, just for a moment. It wasnât the same as Rafeâs laugh, but it was something. Right now, youâd take it.
When you woke up, the house was already buzzing.Â
The pogues were up and at it, setting up for whatever party they had planned. Youâd slept in, which wasnât like you, but Sarah had all but forced you to stay in bed last night, insisting you needed the rest. Sheâd even made John B sleep on the couch so you could take his spot in their bed. You felt badâguilty, reallyâyou tried to tell her it wasnât necessary, but Sarah was Sarah. Stubborn, loyal, annoyingly sweet Sarah.
The morning, however, had been nothing short of a disaster.
You barely made it out of bed before you were sprinting to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet like youâd had one too many shots at a party the night before. Except, this wasnât from partyingâit was the fucking morning sickness. Thank God everyone else was outside setting up, or youâd have to deal with their questions.
You stayed in the bathroom longer than you wanted to, rinsing your mouth out and glaring at yourself in the mirror like your reflection was to blame for your misery. Your hair was a mess, your skin looked pale. You looked like shit.
To make matters worse, the house was painfully loud. Every noise from outside echoed through the shitty walls, stabbing into your head. The party. Where everyone would be drinking, laughing, and probably noticing that you were the only one sitting in a corner looking like youâd been hit by a train.
Groaning, you wiped your face with a cold washcloth. âFuck,â you complained under your breath, glaring at yourself in the mirror.Â
You grabbed the bottle of pre-natal vitamins from your bag, the ones that looked like horse pills, and twisted off the cap. The nausea was already crawling up your throat again, and the last thing you wanted was to shove a giant vitamin down your stomach.
You didn't have much of a choice. You needed it, not just for the baby, but because of the anemia. If you didn't stay on top of it, youâd end up worse than you felt nowâand that was already a nightmare you were trying to avoid.
You stared at the pill in your hand, mentally preparing yourself.
âJust swallow it,â you muttered, willing yourself into doing it. It took a moment, but you finally threw it back. You chased it down with a sip of water, grimacing as it settled in your stomach. It felt like you were choking on a rock, and you had to fight to keep your stomach from revolting all over again.
For a while, you sat back on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, head in your hands, hating the lingering taste of bile in your mouth even after your oral hygiene.
You let yourself fall back, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily, pressing a hand to your stomach, not out of affection but frustration.
"Iâm trying here, okay? Can you at least meet me halfway?" you muttered.
The distant noises and commotion from outside seeped in through the window, but it only made you feel more isolated. You reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through notifications you didnât care about. A text from Sarah popped up:Â "Take your time. Weâve got it covered out here.â
You tossed the phone aside, rubbing your temples. You wished you could just stay here all day, curled up under the covers, but the thought of Sarahâs concerned face, of the inevitable questions and glances, made that impossible. You were tired of being a problem, tired of being the fragile one everyone tiptoed around.
You sighed, knowing there was no way youâd make it through this day without looking like total crap. You grabbed a hoodie from the back of the door, tossed your hair up into a bun, and made your way downstairs.
You found her in the kitchen, already pouring drinks and bossing JJ and Pope around. She spotted you lingering in the doorway and waved you off before you could say anything.
âNope,â she shook her head, clicking her tongue at you like you were a misbehaving child. âDonât even think about it. Go sit down. Rest. Itâs gonna be a long day, and you need it, okay?â
You blinked at her, then at the mess around the house. Decorations were half-done outside, the tables and counter were an explosion of snacks, and JJ was currently trying to balance three folding chairs in one hand like a party trick. Kie was arguing with John B about where the cooler should go, and Sarah was somehow keeping it all from falling apart.
You leaned against the doorway, hand still on your stomach, glaring at her as she poured some sort of drink into a plastic cup. âYou couldâve woken me up. Iâm not completely useless.â
Sarah spun around, eyebrows raised and gave you a look that could kill. âUh, no, you donât get to complain. I let you sleep in because you need it, and Iâm not about to let you overdo it, okay.â
You sighed, leaning against the counter. âI feel like a freeloader right now.â
âYouâre not a freeloader,â Sarah said, rolling her eyes. âYouâre my sister. And youâve been through... a lot. So just chill. Weâve got this.â
âIâm not an invalid.â
She raised an eyebrow. âYouâre pregnant, which means youâre officially on my do-not-let-her-do-anything list. Now go sit your ass down before I make one of them carry you.â
âDonât drag them into this,â you muttered, but you were already giving up the fight. Sarah was like a pit bull when she made up her mind, and there was no arguing with her. You nodded reluctantly, letting her win this one. It wasnât like you had the energy to argue anyway.
Outside, the rest of the group was scattered around the yard, setting up for what promised to be a classic pogues-style party. Pope and Cleo had arrived at some point; Pope was trying to figure out how to hang a string of lights between two trees, while Cleo stood nearby, holding a roll of tape and offering sarcastic commentary.
âMaybe if youâd let me do it, we wouldnât be out here for an hour,â Cleo teased, tilting her head.
âAnd maybe if you didnât talk so much, I could concentrate, baby.â
JJ was dragging a cooler across the sand, muttering something about how âbeer doesnât carry itself,â while Kie followed behind him, laughing and tossing bags of chips into a pile on the picnic table.
Sarah joined you on the porch, a can of sparkling water in her hand. âSee? Weâve got it under control,â she said, gesturing to the scene in front of you. âNow, sit down, relax, and enjoy the show.â
You raised an eyebrow. âWhat about you? Arenât you gonna take your own advice?â
Sarah grinned, âIâll relax when the party starts. For now, my mission is to make sure you donât lift a finger.â
âYouâre impossible.â
âYeah, but you love me,â she replied, linking her arm through yours.
And she wasnât wrong. As much as you hated being doted on, it was hard not to appreciate everything sheâd been doing for you.
Cleo spotted you from across the yard and waved, her smile wide and warm. âYo! You gonna come hang out or just stand there looking pretty?â
âBoth,â JJ called out, smirking as he cracked open a beer.
You rolled your eyes but couldnât help smiling.Â
âI said pretty, rude boy. It doesnât include your ass.â
âCleo, you wound me. I thought we had something special.â
âYeah, itâs called my patience, and itâs runninâ real thin,â Cleo yelled back, smirking as she handed Pope the tape. âHere. Fix your mess before the whole damn tree comes down.â
Pope muttered something under his breath but took the tape anyway, climbing back onto the ladder. âYou couldâve just done this yourself if you were so sure about it.â
âAnd rob you of the chance to prove me wrong? Never,â Cleo quipped, crossing her arms as she stepped back to watch him work.
The two of you headed toward the table where Kie was busy arranging snacks, her brows furrowed in concentration.
âHow are we still out of guac?â She muttered, her tone more annoyed than concerned. âI swear I made enough to feed an army.â
âYour boyfriend happened,â Sarah said without missing a beat. âI saw him sneak off with a bowl earlier.â
Kie groaned, hands on her hips as she glared at the blonde boy, who was now lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on the cooler.
âYou are a menace to society.â
âAnd yet, here I am, invited to all your parties,â JJ replied, raising his beer in a mock toast.Â
Kie grabbed a chip and threw it at him, hitting him square in the forehead, "It's your party too, dick."
âGuys,â Pope called out from the ladder, sounding exasperated. âCan someone just hold the other end of the lights? Iâm not trying to die out here.â
âI got it,â Cleo said, strolling over and grabbing the string of lights. âDonât let go of that tape, or youâre on your own.â
Cleo had finally climbed up the ladder with Pope, muttering something sarcastic, only for him to pull her into a quick kiss that made her giggle.
It wasnât long before everyone started getting ready for the party. It was only around 3:30, but you could tell everyone was in full-on prep mode, running around and grabbing last-minute things. You figured you should probably start getting ready, too, if you wanted to make it to the party without looking completely out of it.
You escaped, fully aware that Sarah would check on you soon if you didnât start moving. Sitting on the bed, you scrolled aimlessly for outfit inspiration, but everything felt wrongâtoo tight, too flashy, or too⌠not you. You hadnât exactly packed for a pogues-style party, and the thought of showing up in your worn-out jeans or one of John Bâs oversized T-shirts made you shudder.
Sarahâs closet caught your eye, the door slightly ajar. A beacon of decent fashion that you knew was still hiding in there, despite her efforts to shed the kook label. She still had a few relics from her old life, buried beneath tie-dye and frayed denim.
Youâd teased her about it last week, calling her out for keeping a little piece of her former self tucked away. Sheâd rolled her eyes and said, âA girlâs gotta have options.â
Today, you needed those options.
You bypassed the flashier options in favor of something understated. Nestled between a linen sundress and a denim jacket was exactly what you needed: a simple, fitted black dress. It was sleeveless, with a subtle scoop neckline and a hemline that hit just above the knee. The fabric was soft and unassuming but hugged your frame just right, giving it a quietly polished look.
âThis one,â you murmured, pulling it off the hanger. It wasnât loud or overly attention-grabbingâmore like the kind of dress that someone who didnât need to try would wear.Â
Elegant, minimal, perfect.
Sliding it on, you immediately felt the difference. It didnât scream for attention, but it made you feel put together, which was exactly what you needed right now. You ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles before stepping into a pair of nude sandals youâd found shoved in the back of the closet. Flat, simple, and mercifully easy to walk in.
Sarah popped her head in just as you were brushing your hair out into soft waves. âThere she is,â she said, giving you a once-over. âGod forbid you wear something ugly, huh?â
You tugged lightly at the hem of the dress. âIâm doing this closet justice.â
âYou are. I forgot I even had that dress or I would've given it away."
âThank God for that,â you replied, slipping on a simple gold bracelet you found on her dresser. âThe pogues' style is great and all, but I have my limits.â You hadnât even touched your makeup yet. With a sigh, you glanced at Sarah. âIâll be ready in five.â
She raised an eyebrow but didnât tease, already heading downstairs to check on the others. You glanced at the clockâit was almost party time, but you needed a few more minutes to look presentable.
You grabbed her makeup bag from her vanity and settled in front of the mirror. Starting with a light layer of foundation, you evened out your complexion. You werenât trying to hide anything; you just needed to look less like youâd just rolled out of bed.
For the first time in what felt like years, you werenât thinking about the baby. You werenât worrying about keeping your secret from Rafe or everyone else around you. You werenât wrapped up in the anxiety of it all. Instead, you were just doing something that felt simple, that belonged to your ageâputting on makeup, getting ready for a party, like a normal twenty-year-old something woman.
This was the most normal youâd felt in months.
Youâd been so consumed with everything pregnancy-related, trying to stay on top of your emotions while dealing with the fear of being found out. It was exhausting. You had forgotten what it felt like to be carefree, to be youânot just someone wrapped up in worry. There was something so familiar about itâthe way the brush swept across your skin, the way you mixed your bronzer just right to highlight your cheekbones. It felt like the old you. Who knew this shit could be so therapeutic?
A soft sigh slipped from your lips. You needed more moments like this. Simple, easy moments where you didnât have to think about the rest of the world. Just doing your makeup. Just getting dressed. Just being youâeven for a little while.
When you made your way downstairs again, the mess had somehow multiplied. The house was alive with movement, and the sound of JJ yelling something unintelligible from the backyard. People had already started arrivingâpogues, and a handful of kooks who never missed a good party. You spotted Sarah in the kitchen, pouring drinks into a massive punch bowl, looking entirely in her element.
You sidled up to Kie, who was setting out plates of food with military precision. âHey, you need any help with this? Or anything, really?â
Kie glanced up, her brows shooting toward her hairline as she appraised you. âIs this the control freak in you?â
âFunny,â you deadpanned, leaning on the counter. âSeriously, though. Put me to work.â
She snorted, grabbing a handful of napkins and shoving them into your hands. âFine. You can help set these out on the tables outside. But if Sarah catches you, this conversation didnât happen.â
âDeal.âÂ
The yard looked like something out of a fever dream. String lights were half-strung between trees, chairs and tables were scattered everywhere. A cooler sat precariously close to tipping over, its contents already being raided by JJ, who was popping open another beer while Cleo scolded him for being âabsolutely useless.â
You moved through the yard, laying out napkins and straightening plates, feeling some of the earlier tension and sleep deprivation ease from your back. It felt good to do something normal, something productive. By the time you circled back to the porch, Sarah was waiting for you, hands on her hips and a knowing look in her eyes. âI thought I told you to sit down.â
You shrugged, trying to play it off. âKie needed help. Iâm fine.â
Sarah didnât look convinced, but she didnât push it. Instead, she handed you a cup of water and gestured toward one of the chairs on the porch. âAt least pretend youâre taking it easy, okay? Youâre gonna need your energy when this party really gets going.â
You rolled your eyes but took the seat, sipping the drink as you watched the guests buzz around the yard.Â
Cleo and Kiara were already in tears laughing as JJ dramatically narrated Popeâs âworld record attempt,â complete with fake announcer voice. By the time Pope finally flipped upside down with his help, everyone was cheering loud enough to drown out the music blasting from the backyard speakers.
JJ was yelling something about âlegendary keg stand formâ as Pope balanced upside down on the keg, supported by Cleo and a very unenthused Kie.
It was hilarious watching his usually composed demeanor dissolve into giggles as beer dripped down his face, but even funnier was JJ hyping him up like this was the Olympics. âThatâs my boy! New record! Somebody time this shit!â
You laughed, for once letting yourself enjoy the day. It felt good to be surrounded by fun, to not be caught up in your head for a change. Maybe Sarah had been rightâyou needed this.
For once, you were wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. It felt so good to do it too, to feel like you were part of something instead of just watching from the sidelines. You could breathe again.
Pope wobbled, barely lasting ten seconds before collapsing onto the grass. JJ threw his arms up like theyâd just won the championship, shouting, âA legend was born tonight!â
You felt all the stress and heaviness youâd been dragging and moping around had finally been put on pause.
Then, subtle at first, a tickle at the back of your neck, a whisper of unease. You moved around on the railing, trying to shake it off. You glanced around, casually at first, scanning the crowd. Everyone seemed caught up in somethingâJJ was on his third keg stand attempt, Kie and Cleo were busy arguing over the playlist, and the rest of the partygoers were either dancing or clustered around the fire pit.
Nothing out of the ordinary. You tried to ignore it at first, brushing it off as your brainâs way of being a buzzkill. It had a way of doing thatâruining a perfectly good night with its tendency to overanalyze everything.  You were having a good time, and you werenât about to let paranoia ruin it.
But then you spotted her, Sofia.
She was standing near the back door, lit by the string lights strung across the porch, holding a beer cup. And she was staring at you.
Not just a quick glance, not the way someone looks when theyâre zoning out. No. This wasâŚstaring. Your stomach twisted. This couldnât be about you, she was just drunk and in her feelings or whatever. But there was something about the way she lookedâsad, almost heartbrokenâthat made you want to bolt home.
You turned away, feeling like you couldnât breathe, the night wasnât as fun anymore. Maybe she wasnât even looking at you. Except, you couldnât shake it. You drained the rest of your water and headed inside to refill it, telling yourself you needed a second to breathe.
But of course, the second you stepped into the kitchen, Sofia was there.
She was cryingâfull-on cryingâher mascara smudged and her cheeks streaked with tears. She was drunk, that much was obvious, so drunk she had to grab the counter.
Jesus.
 âUhâŚ? Are you okay?â
You werenât Sofiaâs biggest fan.
She had the love of your lifeâthe guy youâd once thought was it for youâand that alone made it impossible to feel anything but complicated about her. Add to that the fact that she was a pogue, and⌠youâd never been friends.
The last thing you wanted to do tonight was play therapist, especially not for her. But she was still a girl, drunk and crying in the middle of a party, and no matter how much historyâor lack thereofâexisted between you, there was no way you were going to leave her like that.
You sighed, setting your cup down on the counter, âDo you need to sit down? Water?â
She only sobbed harder. Okay, not helping, noted.
âHey, sit down,â you murmured, guiding her to the bench by the window. She didnât resist, collapsing onto it.
Her eyes glassy and red. She looked up at you like you were the last person she wanted to see, but also, somehow, the only one she needed.
âIâm sorry,â she choked out, her voice cracked. âI shouldnâtâthis wasnât supposed to happen.â
You crouched down in front of her, arms resting on your knees as you tried to figure out what the hell she meant. âWhat wasnât supposed to happen? Did someone do something to you?â
âNo,â she said quickly, shaking her head hard enough to make her curls bounce. âNo, itâs not like that. Itâs just⌠itâs Rafe. Heââ Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands.
The second she said his nameâRafeâyou already knew.
You didnât know the details, didnât need them, but you knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. That name always did.
Sofiaâs voice cracked again, her words coming out between hiccuping breaths and slurred apologies, but youâd already braced yourself for whatever you were about to hear.
And yet, when she finally said itâhe dumped meâit still felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water in your face.
What the fuck were you supposed to say to that?
"Iâm not sure what you want me to do with this."
She flinched, her glassy eyes darting up to meet yours, but she didnât say anything, just sniffled and stared at you like you had all the answers. You didnât. Not for her.
"Youâre upset, I get that," you continued, "But coming to me about Rafe? Really? What did you think was going to happen here?"
Her lip trembled, you thought she might start wailing again. "IâI didnât plan this, okay? I just⌠I didnât know who else toâ"
On one hand, you felt bad for her.
How could you not? She was drunk, sobbing, in a way that felt painfully familiar. But on the other hand⌠what the fuck did she expect? Sheâd dated Rafeâyour Rafeâknowing you were a six-year-long shadow she could never step out of.
She was with him knowing now she wanted you to what? Comfort her? Be her shoulder to cry on?
This wasnât the time to be petty or mean, not when she was looking at you like you were the only person who could possibly understand.
âH-he dumped me,â she repeated, her voice cracking. âsaid⌠he said heâs not over you. That he c-canât give me what I d-deserve because⌠because his heartâs still with you.â
You pursed your lips, a tangled knot of guilt, and something dangerously close to vindication swimming in your head.
Of course, it felt good to hear itâof course it did. But that didnât make it easier to watch another girl fall apart in front of you because of him. As pathetic as it was, you knew what it felt like to be that girl.
You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the snarky comment sitting on your tongue. As much as this whole thing screamed bad decision after bad decision, she was still here, crying her eyes out, and you werenât heartless. Not entirely, anyway.
âI knew,â she whispered, âI knew he wasnât over you. From the beginning. I thought I c-could⌠I donât know. Change his mind?â She let out a choked sob. âIâm sittin' h-here, drunk and crying to you, of all people, because I d-didnât li-isten to my gut when it told me to walk away. Iâm sorry,â she blubbered, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. âI shouldnât be bothering you with this. You probably hate me.â
You didnât answer right away because, yeah, she wasnât entirely wrong. You didnât like her, that was for damn sure. But hate? Hate took too much energy.
You didnât know what to say to that. Couldnât say what you really thoughtâthat she shouldâve walked away, that no one could ever fill a space someone else left behind. So instead, you sat down beside her.
âI know it doesnât help,â you said finally, âbut itâs not your fault. Rafe⌠heâs complicated. He doesnât know what he wants half the time, and even when he does, heâs too scared to hold on to it.â
She looked at you through teary eyes. âHe held on to you for years.â
âYeah. And look how that turned out.â
"If this is how I feel now, I canât even imagine what you went through."
You bit your lip. She honestly thought this was the time for some heartfelt apology? God, bless her heartâno, scratch that, bless her delusions. She was standing there, looking like a wet mess, telling you she couldnât imagine how you felt? If only she knew.
You sighed, grabbing a towel from the counter and tossing it at her. "Here. Fix your face. You look like youâve been crying in a frat basement."
She caught the towel, her cheeks burning as she dabbed at her ruined makeup. "Iâthanks," Her voice shook as she continued her drunk ramble, "I didnât know... I didnât realize how bad it hurt you."
You took a breath, part of you wanting to snap at her, tell her it was too little, too late. You couldâve easily unleashed all the venom youâd kept inside for so long. But then, there was that little voice in your headâone that, surprisingly, wasnât making fun of her. You couldnât be that cruel, you werenât heartless, no matter how complicated things had gotten.
Sofia, in this stateâdrunk, emotionalâdidnât deserve that.Â
"You need to get your shit together, stop letting your entire world revolve around him.â You could see her flinch at that last part, but you werenât done yet.
How ironic.
"Youâre better than this. You donât need a guyâespecially Rafeâto make you feel whole. I learned something, and youâre going to learn it too. Life doesnât revolve around some guyâs bullshit feelings. The sooner you realize that, the better off youâll be, put yourself first, always. Iâve been there. Youâve got to live with the fact that he chose someone else. It doesnât matter if you did everything rightâsometimes, itâs just not enough."
There was a part of you that really felt sorry for her, the part that was human, not just jaded from all the pain. But there was also a voice in your head saying, You donât owe her understanding.
Loving Rafe Cameron could feel like the best and worst thing at the same time.
You watch her carefully, making sure sheâs soaking it in. "You deserve better than a guy who doesn't know how to value you. And donât get me wrong, I get it. Weâve all been there. You canât fix him."
Sofia was still sniffling and wiping her eyes, catching her breath, maybe even trying to piece things together. You felt like you had done something... good? Maybe not good, but at least youâd been the bigger person, showing her a bit of mercy.
Before she could answer, the door creaked, and you both turned to see your cousin standing there. Instantly, all alarm bells went off in your head, your eyes narrowing instantly, hands searching for something to throw at his face.
"Topper," you spit out, the name coming out like acid, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
ooop- y'all not ready for chapter 12 heheheh
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| hamzahthefantastic x youtuber!reader au
summary: hamzah has a crush that is extremely obvious to everyone except you ... somehow?! (both written & smau!!!)
a/n: happy new years!!!!!!
â march 2024
hamzah is hungry beyond belief.
martin's already assured him both over facetime and text that he's on his way with their full course meal of chinese takeoutâ currently sat in the basket of martin's rented bike, jostling up and down with every bump of the toronto pavement without a doubt. yet his stomach is still throwing a tantrum, depraved of any nutrients while his brain repeats in a neanderthal-like manner "food. coming. soon." in hopes of reducing the pressure within his poor stomach.
he opens instagram, needing some sort of an escape, because naturally a little doom-scrolling will ease his (dramatic but still very real) pain. somehow, among the ridiculous animal reels and comedic twitch clips on his explore feed, he stumbles upon a reel from you. a girl with a different quality and charm to your face and character than anything he's seen in other content creators.
not only does your bubbly yet elegant voice keep him watching but the subject matter is rather fittingâ you're cooking a homemade chicken pot pie for the first time. in the video you talk about how often your mother would prepare it growing up and now it's become a popular craving for you. hamzah watches intently as if he were ready to get up and make his own pot pie alongside you.
"hey! the hell are you smiling at?" martin's voice is breathy due to his trek to and from the chinese restaurant. he walks into the living room holding a crinkly plastic bag reading: "thank you! have a nice day!" with that big, yellow smiley face in between.
"huh? nothin'." hamzah dismisses and adjusts himself on the couch, "come on, 'm starving!" he reaches his hand out to take the food from martin before patting the seat next to him.
ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
â june 2024
"so when are you gonna come see us?"
it was a surprise to see hamzah follow you on instagram a few months ago. you'd heard his name thrown around in certain spaces of the internet but never really indulged in any of his content.
his instagram had the format of a shitposting ten-year-old but it only made you curious about the humorous twenty-something. eventually you'd watched a youtube video of his; completely laughing your ass off and finding your eyes chasing after hamzah whenever he was in even the tiniest of frames.
it was never a serious crush by any means, just a nice piece of secret eye-candy who also happened to have a great personality and an enviously good work ethic (the effort martin and hamzah put into their videos was astonishing to you).
so you were quite nervous to be the first to dm him, in hopes of a friendship or a least a quick exchange of "hey." it was only right â you two had been liking each other's poss and stories a consistent amount.




the mellow first exchange between the two of you in april blossomed into you both constantly talking in your free time; your friendship quickly to developed a flirty back-and-forth dynamic that sometimes borders on way more than platonic. eventually martin was added to your consistent facetime calls and youâve even let them convince you to create a discord account to play minecraft and grand theft auto online with them.
and now youâre lying on your leather couch with both of their faces displayed in your laptopâs screen, eager to hear your response.
âi donât knowâŚâ you play with a loose end of the sweater youâre wearing, âwhat would we even do?â
they both stay quiet for a moment before hamzah laughs, âwhy are you acting like you donât wanna say yes right now?â
a smile slowly grows on your face âokay⌠gimme a second,â you begin to google flight information to and from toronto.
ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
â september 2024
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yourusername Yâall didnât tell me they get wild in the 6 , Omg??!! Highly requested video out neow <3
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chaserutherford đ˝ď¸8ď¸âŁ ⢠âĽď¸ by author
yourusername I rlly do miss u already đđđđ
ynfan01 ohhhh this was so necessary thank u motherâşď¸!! ⢠âĽď¸ by author
yourusername Mhm!!! Olivia Wilde head nod đđ
slushieeee333 y/n: slurping pasta , hamzah the whole time: đđđđ
thatmartinkid hey look ma i made it!!! đŤľđ ⢠âĽď¸ by author
ynsnumberone THE FLIRTING WENT CRAZYYYYY
slushedyn her and hamzah are obsessed with each other i fear
thatslushykid COME BACK 2 TORONTO ASAP I NEED MORE COLLABS RN!!!!!! đđđđđđđ
hamzahluver45 ok but like itâs so obvious that her trying to flirt was just irritating them the whole time !! Like girl ..đđ
hamzahthefantastic Posting our dms is already one thing , but TAGGING ME is actually crazy đ¤đ¤ ⢠âĽď¸ by author
yourusername R u mad @ me Bby???? đ
hamzahthefantastic BruhLmaooooooooooo
freakzahfan that's one too many "o"s just say u wanna kiss her my boy
ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
âoh!â you accidentally trip over yourself while walking backwards and stumble into hamzah, who was standing in front of the unfamiliar grocery store, watching you prepare to give an intro. âjesus,â martin laughs under his breath from behind the camera. he lowers the camera, showing his feet but still picking up his voice in the mic, âyou good?!â
the clip cuts to you stood upright again, "i'm in the six!!!" you exclaim loudly, raising your arms above your head. "and i'm here with slushy noobz to add to my series where other creators "teach me" their specialty. you tug at hamzah's arm and pull him into the frame with you, "hamzah tell them what you and martin are gonna teach me," you look up a him while still holding onto his arm. you interrupt him before he even begins to speak, "oh yeah! martin is also here by the way!" you point and martin flips the camera to himself. "they're just leaving me out it's fine, i know i'm out already, just vote just vote," he references with a sigh before turning it back to you and hamzah. "don't start! chase is on his way to come and film for us-" "listen! this is our plan-- we're gonna teach you how to mukbang; everyone knows we're very qualified in this field and know everything there is to know about the subject, so, uhh, yeah we're kinda experts. i dont know, would you say that, martin?" hamzah rambles. "yeah, i think that's a good way to describe us" "perfect! then you're teachin' me how to kiss next, right?" you ask. hamzah goes from looking at you attentively (hanging onto your every word) to a face deadpanned as he glances over to martin trying not to smile.
the video cuts to a clip with the three of you, finally, all in one shot now that chase is behind the camera. you pull a cart out from its slot and push yourself on it before standing both feet on top of the tiny foot bar, gliding through the automatic doors.
next, a clip of martin speaking to the camera while you and hamzah look through different pasta sauces together, "okay we didn't really explain this well but essentially we're all going to cook a nice dish and then eat it together in front of you guys. isn't that cute?" "yeah, can't wait for us to mukbang together" hamzah speaks. martin turns back to the camera with a smirk, "i bet you wish you were mukbanging with us huh, chase?" "no. and you just made that word up." martin's face falls.
the entire grocery shopping trip is filmed with little moments like hamzah mispronouncing a few brand names, martin talking to strangers about which pasta noodle to try, and you randomly walking off into estranged aisles "just to see if things are really different here"
now, you're all back at martin's home; you read aloud the recipe and hamzah is stood practically on top of you as he also looks down at the phone, all while martin lays ingredients out of the counter. "okay simple enough," hamzah says. "yeah, and you're still gonna make me do all of the work anyway," martin huffs sarcastically. you giggle a bit, "martin the most you'll have to do is boil water, i'll force him to do the rest." "huh???!! who??" hamzah questions, his smiley face âaccidentallyâ leaning far too close to yours. "you, duh!" you laugh and turn away to look for a large pot.
throughout the cooking process you slowly stop helping; talking to mandy while you two eat chips and salsa while leaning on the counter or petting the pets instead of doing any of the tasks given to you from the self-proclaimed chefs.
"this is literally your video! what the hell y/n?!" martin whines when he finds you and mandy making a tiktok in his "man cave" together after you'd told them you were going to the bathroom, "seriously mandy?" all of the audio can be heard from the mics on your clothing. "where was she?" hamzah says monotonous as he scrolls on his phone. "making freaking tiktoks with mandy of course!" you giggle as you walk into the kitchen behind him, "what? the food is practically done, we're just waiting on garlic bread!" you shrug and hamzah immediately turns at the sound of your voice. "well, you gonna at least show us?" hamzah asks casually placing his hands on the counter around you, trapping you in the space between him and the marble surface. "yeah," you tilt your head so you can look at his face as you make fun of his not-so-friendly gesture, "you wanna keep breathing down my neck like that while i show you?" he laughs and moves away to cover up the embarrassment of being called out. "stop!" you laugh and bring him back into frame forcing him and martin to watch you and mandy dance on your phone screen.
the four of you sit on the carpet with plates full of chicken alfredo and pieces of garlic bread laid out on martinâs coffee table. you all talk about your experience in toronto so far, how you and hamzah first met, ⌠et cetera.
martin attempts to teach you canadian slang: âkeener is big here.â âactually? what the hell does that even mean?â âitâs kinda like a try hardâ people will call you a keener if youâre doing too much, basically.â âwait tell me more!â âi mean things like buddy is way too common here. some random old guys will call me that and it always throws me off??â âyeah they always say it so demeaning,â hamzah laughs. âdo you guys actually say âeh?â all the time? i feel like i havenât noticed it a lot.â you ask genuinely. âi won't lie.. i say it more often than i like to admit!â mandy says. youâve noticed that no matter if youâre the one speaking or not hamzahâs eyes keep glancing and sometimes full on staring at you (he really doesnât mean to but he thinks heâs finally processing that youâre actually here with them after months of wanting this) you're flattered nonetheless.
at some point hamzah and martin recreate a scene in lady and the tramp, successfully slurping at the same noodle until hamzah retreats and martin sighs at his lack of commiting to the bit. you laugh along before asking hamzahâs to share a noodle with you with a smile slapped over your face, âme next?â he fights off any blushing with a roll of his eyes and his response of, âyeah? ask me again in a sec.â
after youâve all finished eating, you complete the video with a big smile and a promise of more collaborations in the future.
ᥣđŠ â˘ď˝ĄęŞŕ§ Ëâ
â˘â˘â˘
#hamzah the fantastic#hamzah x y/n#hamzah#hamzahthefantastic#hamzahthefantastic x reader#hamzah x reader#hamzah imagines#martin and hamzah#slushynoobz#slushy virus#slushy noobz virus#slushy noobz#hamzahthefantastic fanfic#hamzahthefantastic x you#hamzahthefanatasticxreader
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PLEASEEEE can u show the time where reader caught rafe punching the squishmallows that really sent me

"don't laugh, okay?" you say it softly, right outside the door to your bedroom.
"why would i laugh?" rafeâs asking seriously, but you're already a tiny bit embarrassed of what lies on the other side of the door and you're unsure how rafe will react.
"it's, like, a third of the size of your room-"
"shut up and open the door."
you sigh, turning the handle and pushing to let yourself in first. rafe follows, staring around the tiny room observantly. his eyes flicker from corner to corner, taking it in. you stand to the side patiently, playing with your hands, in particular the ring rafe had just gotten you, fiddling and twisting it repeatedly.
he walks around for a second, stopping at your bookshelf to take a look at the titles on the shelves and then moving on, staring at the photos on the wall and then sniffing a stray candle on the nightstand. he finally stops at your dresser, glancing over the lotions and perfumes littered on top to stare at the framed picture of the two of you perched right in the center, odds and ends he's gotten you in the last month scattered around.
"so?" you question quietly, eyes big.
"which drawer's got your panties?"
"rafe! shut up."
"it's a cute room. why'd you get so worried?"
"i don't know. habit." you settle on the bed, bringing your biggest squishmallow onto your lap, holding it in your arms comfortingly. rafe's still looking around.
"always had one favorite color, huh?"
"yes," you admit, squeezing the stuffed animal harder. rafe finally comes to join you on the bed, gesturing to the squishmallow as soon as he does.
"what the hell is that?"
"this is ricky. he's a clownfish. he has a career, i just can't remember-"
"huh?"
"they all have jobs and hobbies, rafe. the squishmallows. i think he's an underwater singer or something."
"you sleep with that huge thing on the bed?"
"every night. when i'm here, at least. i should get one for tannyhill!"
"don't know about all that." he takes it into his hands, moving it around, observing it from all sides. "every single night?"
"yeah. why?"
"nothin'."
the conversation changes to the books on your nightstand, and you forget all about the squishmallow resting on your bed until you step out to get a cup of lemonade for rafe.
walking back in, you wonder if you put enough sugar in, when you open the door to see rafe smacking your squishmallow with his right hook, right to his little face.
"what are you doing?!" it spills out before you can stop it, the lemonade almost falling out of your hand.
"look at the dent. how does it go back to how it was?" he questions, while you look over at him, horrified. "what's inside it? feathers, or some shit?" he looks over to get an answer, when he looks at your distraught face.
"what?"
even when he sleeps over, he's never allowed to touch your squishmallow again.

#lmfaoooooo this is cracked#enjoy babe love u <333#I used Ricky the clownfish as an example since thatâs the one I have!!!!!!#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader
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XXX.Com || Pornstar Worst!Logan Howlett smut
summary: Logan needs money and work is hard to find when you're from another universe, luckily he lands himself a job as an adult film actor. Lets just say, he's a natural.
warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, porn (obvi lol), jerking off, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, scratching, oral f!receiving, rough sex, fake professor x college student (its the porno they're filming), he calls you teach in the porno, reader has a stage name (sunshine), flirting.
a/n: This was inspired by the delicious pornstar logan fics by @bpmiranda I wanted to try my own twist on the trope but plz go check out their fics they are amazing!!
Coming from another universe had its fair share of problems. For one his other self was a very well known hero so people were constantly staring. The other issue was working. He needed money if he ever wanted to move out of this god forsaken place. Heâs sick of seeing wade walk around naked at 8 in the morning.
He needs his space and to get that he needs money but getting a job with none of the required paperwork was hard. He had to settle for doing odd jobs that paid cash under the table. Those were fine but he needed something more stable.
When Wade suggested he turn to adult films he rolled his eyes at another attempt at shitty humor from his roommate but the more he thought about it the less it seemed like a joke. The money was good and hopefully they didn't ask too many questions. So fuck it. How he found the right place was a long story but he ended up getting hired pretty quickly.
As the director put it. He's sexy and big in more ways than one. To Logan's surprise they didn't seem to care much that he was from another universe but they did have to make sure he wasn't a total creep which he understood.
The first video he was assigned to was pretty basic. Just fucking a girls brains out or something. Whatever the hell people were in to these days, he didn't really care. As long as he got paid. He had to get used to the prying eyes of the cameras.
Still he said his lines, albeit it took him a couple takes to say them naturally. His gruff voice and rippling muscles skyrocketed him to the top. Despite being a rookie he attracted a lot of attention and even garnered a reputation within the studio. No one could deny the raw animal magnetism this man seemed to have.
"Logan! Good news, your next video is going to be a with one of the most popular stars in our studio." The directors over the top enthusiasm makes Logan's eyes roll but he grunts out a response.
"Her name is Sunshine. Look her up. Anyways be here tomorrow by nine." Sunshine? Logan chuckles to himself as he leaves the studio.
Fake names are not uncommon but he's yet to find one that sounds so...perky. Still his curiosity gets the better of him as he steals Wades laptop in the dead of night. Searching in the name and scanning the results. Logan works with many attractive people in this job but the moment he lays eyes on you something shifts.
You aren't just attractive, you're drop dead gorgeous. He clicks on a video and his cock tightens in his pants. The faces you make don't look over the top or rehearsed. They almost look real. But Logan can tell you're faking it.
Your moans are sweet but he can tell whoever this boy is that's got his cock in you isn't doing his job very well. Still ever the professional you are you make it work. He falls down a rabbit hole of video after video. Shutting the laptop as the clock reads two in the morning. His cock is hard and painful as he puts Wades laptop back on the counter.
Fuck he needs a shower.
The ice cold water hits his back but it's not helping. He wraps his hand around his cock. Keeping his noises to a minimum as he jerks himself off to the thought of you. He bites his lip as he thinks of every way he can make you scream tomorrow. Show you what it's like to be fucked by a real man.
The sinful thoughts that fill his head drive him over the edge. He slams his hand against the shower wall as he comes. The water running down his back as he catches his breath. You've already got him interested, he just hopes he can put on a real show tomorrow.
-
When Logan gets to the studio the director tells him the "plot" of this video. Plot being a very loose term here. He's supposed to be the failing college senior while you play the hot young professor. They hand him a white button up a size too small and some fake glasses. He laughs as they place the glasses onto his face.
"No one's going to fucking buy this." The buttons threaten to bust open as they start to fix his hair.
"I don't know, you look pretty convincing to me." He looks up to see you smiling at him.
Already dressed in your shoot clothes with your makeup and hair all done. He shamelessly looks you up and down, licking his lips as his eyes settle on your cleavage.
"I'm a little old to be playing a college student don't you think?" You shrug and walk closer to him. You take your hands and run them through his hair, trying to flatten the parts that stick up but they don't want to listen.
"Don't think any one is watching these for the realism Logan." You wink as you then move to fix his glasses.
He clenches his jaw as he tries to contain the raging boner. He shouldn't be hard yet but here he is. You're driving him crazy.
"Promise to go easy on you, don't want to scare my new favorite coworker." You tease. Your nails scratch along his jaw, just for a moment but it's enough to drive him wild.
"I'm your favorite already Sunshine?" Logan says with a grin.
"For now, don't prove me wrong when the cameras are on us." You walk away and Logan enjoys every second of it. Oh this is going to be fun.
-
"Come on teach, your class is the only one I'm failing. I need to get a C to graduate." Logan's massive frame towers over your desk. His lines come out much more flirty than its supposed to but you roll with it.
"You need a lot of extra credit to make up the missing assignments Mr. Howlett." You stand up and walk over to where he was standing.
Pushing on his chest to get him to sit. You smirk when you see the buttons on his shirt fighting for their life. You sit on top of the desk and pretend to think.
"I'll do anything you want. Anything" Logan growls, his hand resting on your thigh now. Slowing inching up your leg, stopping right at the hem of your pencil skirt. You place your heel onto his shoulder. Spreading your legs so that Logan and the camera can see your lack of panties.
"Well, lets see how bad you want it." You taunt.
Your voice is smooth as butter and it drives him nuts. Logan gets on his knees. Ripping your skirt apart with ease making you gasp. That wasn't in the script but fuck it made you wet. His muscles are bulging in that damn shirt and you want to see what's underneath in person. Sadly that was going to have to wait as he trails kisses up your legs. Wet and sloppy as his grip on your hips is ironclad.
The camera moves to capture Logan's face. Seeing the primal hunger in his eyes as he grabs the hem of your panties with his teeth, dragging them down. He stands up with them still in his mouth. You grab onto his shirt and rip it open. Raking your nails down his very toned chest. You grab your underwear out of his mouth and toss it to the side.
"Good boy." You purr as you push on his shoulders.
He gets back onto his knees and wastes no time diving into your cunt. You fall back onto the desk as Logan takes you apart with his tongue. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips with ease. There is no need to fake your pleasure with him between your legs.
He's hungry, ravenous. Logan can't get enough. He holds your legs apart, keeping you from closing them as he zeros in on your clit. He's ruthless. Refusing to give you a moment to breathe as he loses himself in your pussy.
"You taste sweeter than I imagined." He growls off script. If he wasn't bringing you to orgasm you'd wonder what he meant by that. You wonder if he watched your videos just like you had.
"Logan!" You moan as your legs start to shake under the intense pleasure.
"That's it teach, let me taste you come on." His dirty mouth makes your head spin.
Your eyes squeezing tight as he pushes you over the edge. You barely even notice the camera as it positions itself over Logan's shoulder. Logan resist the urge to break the damn thing as it gets in his way. He feels a push on his shoulder and he growls. Reluctantly he gets out of the way and uses his thumb to rub your clit.
"I have an idea teach," Logan purrs. He pulls you off the desk. Wrapping an arm around you and grinding his clothed cock against your thigh.
"For every orgasm I can pull out of you, you raise my grade by a letter." He breathes into your neck, inhaling your scent. You sigh as his hands start to grope and squeeze your breasts.
"What do you say?" He grins as he feels you squirm under his touch. He unbuttons your blouse and tosses it to the side. Mouth watering as he buries his face in your breasts.
"You better get to work then Mr. Howlett. You're at a D right now." You turn around and bend over the desk. His hands run along your body before he unbuckles his pants.
"I'll show you a D." He grumbles. You have to stifle a laugh at his words.
The camera moves to show your face as Logan slides his cock inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure as he gets to feel your tight cunt. Now this is what he was waiting for.
"Come get a shot of this." He whispers to himself.
He drags his cock out slowly. He watches in awe as your cute pussy just sucks him up. Your hands are digging into the desk, clawing at the wood as Logan's massive cock pushes its way in. You knew he was big but to actually feel it in person. Fuck.
"That feel good? You like my big cock hm?" Logan's cocky tone makes you moan as he picks up his pace. He's pummeling your poor pussy with no mercy. Your moans are as real as they can get as you cry and whine with each thrust.
"Logan oh god!" Your eyes cross as his cock hits a sensitive spot.
No one's ever hit that before. You're falling apart. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath but your moans quiet down because of it. Logan doesn't like that one bit. You groan as you feel his hand grab your hair. He pulls you up so that your back is arched. His cock somehow pushing its way deeper.
"Come on baby, don't hide from me." He whispers in your ear. He wraps an arm around your chest to hold you up. Your nails dig into his arm to ground yourself.
"Feel so fucking good, jerked myself off last night to your videos." He mumbles so only you can hear. You don't understand how a man can have so much stamina. He doesn't even seem tired.
"So fucking close I can feel it baby. I can feel the way your cunt clenches around my fat cock. I can hear her pulsing for me." His eyes grow dark as he feels you start to lose it.
His rough fingers sliding down to play with your cunt. It's a filthy sight to watch. You've forgotten about the cameras and the crew. The only thing you can feel is Logan. He's taken over your mind, your senses.
"That's it pretty girl." He bites your shoulder and the pain mixes with pleasure.
"Fuck!" You wail as you come hard around his cock. Logan groans in pleasure and comes before he can really stop himself. Filling you up nice and full as you babble incoherently. You can barely get your lines out as you float between the real world and cloud nine.
"You got your C Mr. Howlett." You've never been this wrecked after a scene before but Logan has completely ruined you. You grin at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you.
"You know, I've always wanted an A." He's grinning like the devil as he thrusts his hips once more making you cry out.
He's still fucking hard. He really is every porn studios wet dream. Hot, sexy, can go for round after round. The director calls cut but Logan doesn't let go of you. You've got this dazed look in your eyes and he gently lays you down on the desk.
"You alright?" He grunts as he slips out of you. His cock still standing straight as someone brings him a robe. He grabs a towel from one of the PA's and gently wipes up your legs. You whine as the rough material brushes against your poor pussy.
"Sorry." You just smile in response. You haven't had a fuck this good in a long time. A crew member brings you a robe and you put it on.
"You really know how to use that thing. For a second I thought you were the seasoned professional." You joke as you try and get off the desk. You stumble and Logan is quick to catch you.
"What can I say Sunshine, you made it easy." He flirts. The director calls his name and he rolls his eyes.
"Don't keep him waiting Logan. I'll see you soon." Another crew member comes to help you as Logan lets you go.
Thankfully this was all you had for the week and you could go home and soak in a bath. Your poor legs are going to need it. After signing a few things and getting next weeks shoot list you can finally go home.
"Sunshine, hope I didn't fuck you too good." Logan says with a wink. He's waiting outside of the studio, a cigar in his mouth.
"I regret whatever I said before, your ego is going to get too big." You joke. He shrugs and puts out his cigar on the ground.
"You got any plans?" He asks. Your dressed in normal clothes now, nothing remotely revealing but Logan still thinks you look gorgeous.
"I could take you to lunch, if you're interested." He offers.
You haven't thought about dating since you started working in this industry. You didn't need a partner and it could be hard trying to find one who understood your job. But Logan flashes that handsome smile and for some reason you can't resist.
Maybe your working backwards here. He fucks you and then you go to lunch but hey, nothing about him is conventional anyways.
"Yeah, lunch sounds good."
Its just lunch, you tell yourself. It's only a meal with your hot coworker. If things were to go further though you wouldn't complain. Certainly not when he's as handsome as he is. You definitely wouldn't mind taking him back to your place and you're certainly okay when he promises he can go for more rounds away from the prying eyes of the camera. But for now it's just lunch. He pays and you give him your number.
Logan and you part ways and he prays he sees you again. Not just at work but outside of it too. You've got him hooked. The video gets uploaded and explodes in popularity. Praising how realistic it felt and how hot both of you were. He gets a call from the director, expecting another update on his next shoot.
"Great news man! Sunshine wants to do exclusive shoots with you. Oh this is going to make us so much money." He tunes out the rambling as his phone dings. A smirk appearing on his face when he sees a text with your name pop up.
Want to rehearse our next scene? my place 7pm <3
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#pornstar!logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut
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Cute things the Batboys do in a relationship:
Dick Grayson (Nightwing)
Morning Texts: This dude lives for sending those âGood morning, beautiful â texts, usually with some goofy selfie where his hairâs a mess. He just wants to be the first thing you smile about.
Random Dance Breaks: If youâre in the kitchen or just standing around, Dick will 100% spin you around for a random dance. Heâll hum some random tune and make you laugh like itâs a movie moment.
Spontaneous Picnics: Out of nowhere, heâll hit you with a âmeet me at the parkâ text, and you show up to find heâs got a whole cute picnic setup. The dudeâs got snacks, a blanket, and everything ready like a rom-com lead.
Cuddle Monster: Watching a movie? Cuddling. Sitting on the couch? Cuddling. Heâs got an arm around you, pulling you into his chest every chance he gets. And donât even get me started on bedtimeâheâs glued to you.
Pet Names: Youâre never just your name. Itâs always âSweetheart,â âPrincess,â or something thatâll make you blush and roll your eyes. He loves seeing you react.
Jason Todd (Red Hood)
Cooking Shenanigans: Heâs lowkey a beast in the kitchen, but acts like he needs your help. Next thing you know, youâre tossing flour at each other, making a mess, and laughing like idiots.
Protective as Hell: Jasonâs that guy whoâll drape his jacket over you before you even realize youâre cold. If itâs raining, heâs got the umbrella over youâhe doesnât care if he gets soaked.
Books & Notes: Heâll leave books for you to read with little handwritten notes inside. Some are funny, some are deep, but heâs always thinking about you even when heâs not there.
Late Night Rides: Heâs all about taking you on rides around the city late at night. Itâs quiet, and the world feels like itâs just the two of you while the cool breeze whips by.
Forehead Kisses: Not super into PDA, but will definitely kiss your forehead when itâs just you two. It's his way of saying âI got youâ without saying a word.
Tim Drake (Red Robin)
Study Dates: Timâs ideal date is just chilling in a coffee shop, both of you working on stuff, but occasionally reaching over to hold hands or sneak in a quick kiss. Heâs not the clingy type, but loves quiet closeness.
Geeky Gifts: Heâs that guy whoâll surprise you with some gadget or comic you mentioned once. His memory for stuff you like is insane, and heâll always find something that makes you smile.
Random Nerd Facts: Youâll be mid-conversation and heâll just drop some random fact about the universe or tech that he knows will make you roll your eyes. He lives for those reactions.
Caring Vibes: Timâs the type to bring you tea when youâre stressed or randomly tell you to take a break. And when youâre sad? Heâll pull you into his lap without saying anythingâjust wants to make sure youâre okay.
Subtle Compliments: Heâs not super vocal, but youâll catch him staring at you, and when you ask why, heâll just casually be like, âYouâre stunning,â with the softest smile. Smooth af.
Damian Wayne (Robin)
Low-Key Sweet: Damian wonât say it, but he shows love in little ways. Your favorite snack? Heâll just get it. Something broken? Fixed. His love language is basically âsilent but effective.â
Learning Your Hobbies: Whatever youâre into, heâll make it his mission to learn it. You mention an interest? Bet, heâs researching it like itâs a case for Batman. Itâs his way of being involved without being obvious.
Animals Everywhere: Heâs constantly bringing over animals, like âThis cat needs to meet you.â If his pets like you, thatâs basically a proposal in Damian-speak. And they always like you.
Art Hangouts: He loves painting, so sometimes heâll invite you to join him, and it turns into a competition of who can make the dumbest art. Expect lots of teasing.
Acts of Service: He wonât say âI love youâ all the time, but youâll feel it in the way he does things for youâlike carrying your stuff, fixing something, or just being there when you need him.
#jason todd headcanons#batboys#tim drake headcanons#damian wayne headcanon#dick grayson headcanons#dick grayson#jason todd#batboys headcanons#tim drake#nightwing#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x you#nightwing x reader
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Clueless: Just friends?



Lee Know x fem!reader
Warnings: language, suggestive content MDNI
Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, fluff
Summary: You and Minho used to be friends with benefits. Until you caught feelings, and you both called it off. But Minho obviously misses you and is miserable even though he doesn't want to admit it. And his brothers have had enough of his moping.
Clueless Masterlist
The arrangement with Minho had been perfect - or at least it had started that way. Opposite apartments on the same floor of your nice apartment building. Youâd text each other, and within minutes, someone was at the otherâs door. No strings, no drama. Just a lot of heat that left you breathless and a little sore the next day.
Until, of course, you did the one thing you promised yourself you wouldnât do - you caught feelings.
And naturally, Minho, emotionally stunted and a menace to society, panicked. He started pulling away, making excuses every time you asked if he wanted to come over. The warmth in his teasing dimmed into something guarded.
And it hurt. A lot. His rejection wasn't something you had expected, because no matter what anyone said, he was so soft and sweet to you. But he obviously didn't want a relationship, and you both decided to stop seeing each other.
You missed him. Not just his touch, but everything else too. The way he always brought food over (making excuses about how he had extra), held you tight when you had a hard day and how his cats lived with you more than they did with him. Oh you missed the cats. They were literally your kids - and this dirty divorce had given him full custody of them.
And Minho? He was a mess. Not that heâd admit it.
And Jisung had had about enough of his best friend and his brooding.
---
Jisung: OKAY EVERYONE STOP.
Chan: What's up?
Hyunjin: What did you do?
Jisung: NOTHING. THIS IS ABOUT MINHO.
Seungmin: What did he do?
Jisung: Heâs been moping for WEEKS. And I'm sick of it.
Changbin: You sure? Thatâs just his face.
Jisung: LISTEN. ITâS ABOUT Y/N.
Hyunjin: Ohhhhhh.
Felix: I KNEW IT.
Minho: What the hell is going on?
Jisung: OH LOOK WHO DECIDED TO SHOW UP. Jisung: YOU, SIR, ARE A DRAMA QUEEN.
---
Minho sighed. This was the last thing he needed right now.
---
Minho: Iâm not moping.
Felix: Sure. And Iâm not Australian.
Hyunjin: Yeah, totally not glaring at your phone at all.
Minho: Itâs not about her.
Jeongin: Are you sure you didn't accidentally click her name in your contacts 12 times yesterday?
Chan: What's going on, Min?
Minho: I don't even know what you guys are going on about!
Minho: We were friends. With benefits. Not lovers. She was nice in bed. Thatâs it.
---
There was complete silence in the chat for a minute before it exploded.
---
Chan: No, Minho. No. No. No.
Seungmin: Okay, first of all, what the actual fuck?
Hyunjin: Bro, you did not just say that.
Jisung: YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING LOSER.
Changbin: đĄ
Jeongin: Hyung, she's an angel, how could you?
Felix: Weâre literally trying to save you from yourself.
Minho: Well don't.
---
Minho hated himself. He absolutely hated himself. But he couldn't dwell on the self hate because Jisung just sent a video of Minho pacing his living room like a caged animal, while ranting about you being gone.
---
Hyunjin: Wow. Ok.
Minho: đ
Minho: Stop. Just stop.
Chan: Look, youâre obviously miserable. Why not just talk to her?
Seungmin: Yeah, genius. Itâs not like she doesnât live 20 feet away.
Minho: What if she doesnât feel the same?
Jeongin: I'm sorry, but youâre an idiot.
Hyunjin: Dude. She liked you enough to start this whole thing. You just have to get over your dumb commitment issues.
Changbin: Honestly, just confess. Worst-case scenario, you cry into Dori.
Minho: I hate you all.
Jisung: Hate is a strong word for someone whoâs about to sob into his cat.
Minho: Fine. Iâll talk to her.
---
Minho sat on his couch, heart pounding as he stared at your number on his phone. Heâd been backed into a corner by his idiot friends, and now there was no escape.
And knowing you, he had a feeling that this was going to be the single most difficult task ever.
With a frustrated groan, he stood and grabbed his hoodie. He was going to do this. Because he loved you so much, and he was miserable without you.
Across the hall, in your apartment, you were getting some work done, sipping on coffee. You heard the doorbell, and when you opened the door, you saw Minho - disheveled, nervous, and yet, as handsome as ever. And your traitorous heart did that stupid thing it always did around him.
âHey,â he said softly, eyes meeting yours. âCan we talk?â
Minho hadnât been this nervous in a long time. He stood at your doorstep, heart racing, and palms sweaty, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen.
And he confessed. Nothing dramatics. Just a straightforward, âI love you.â
You'd stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was high. Or had hit his head somewhere. Or if he was simply horny.
But no. Then came his little speech. I know I don't deserve you. I was an asshole (of course he was). I was afraid (as if you weren't). And more than anything - I hurt you. And I hate myself for it. Ok now that you could work with.
But as hard as you tried, sometimes you just couldn't contain that bratty side of you (one that he apparently loved).
You crossed your arms, glaring at him like heâd just run over your dog.
âYou canât just waltz over here, say âI love you,â and expect me to fall into your arms,â you snapped, looking infuriatingly hot with your brows furrowed and your lips pursed in defiance. âYou rejected me, Minho. Do you know much that hurt me?â
His stomach twisted.
âI⌠I wasnât ready -â he stuttered, looking terrified.
âYeah, well, now Iâm not ready,â you said, taking a step back and slamming the door in his face for dramatic effect.
You leaned against the door, fuming and freaking out all together. Your hands shook so hard as you wrapped your head around the fact that Minho just confessed to you and you slammed the door on his face.
And Minho stood in the hallway, a mix of shock, frustration, and - God help him - arousal bubbling under the surface. You were bratty when you were mad, of course. It made him want to kiss you and throttle you all at once.
---
Minho: She hates me.
Hyunjin: No, she doesn't. She slammed the door on your face didn't she?
Minho: How the hell are you so accurately right?
Jeongin: It's his thing.
Felix: What happened?
Jisung: Wait. Did you confess?
Minho: YES.
Minho: AND SHE SLAMMED THE DOOR IN MY FACE.
Hyunjin: Obviously.
Chan: So she didnât say no?
Jisung: LMFAO.
Jeongin: Sheâs mad at you? Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
Minho: SHE SAID A SIMPLE âI LOVE YOUâ WOULDNâT WORK ON HER. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!
Seungmin: It means sheâs not an idiot.
Changbin: Exactly. You rejected her and took months to realize youâre in love. She deserves a little groveling.
Minho: GROVELING?
Felix: Oh, for sure.
---
He was not groveling. No way. Lee Minho didn't grovel. Hell no.
---
Jisung: Yeah, buddy. You gotta pull out all the stops now. Dinner, flowers, interpretive dance. The works.
Minho: STOP.
Hyunjin: Actually, the dance idea is kinda sexy. Imagine Minho doing a hip roll to apologize.
Felix: STOP IT. IâM WHEEZING.
Minho: CAN YOU ALL BE SERIOUS FOR TWO SECONDS?!
Chan: Look, the point is, you hurt her feelings. You need to show her that youâre serious.
Minho: How?! She's a damn brat. She enjoys torturing me.
Jisung: If sheâs a brat, sheâs gonna want to see you sweat.
Minho: She frustrates me.
Jisung: So you're sure you're just frustrated and not turned on right now?
---
Damn Jisung.
---
Jeongin: YAHHHH
Felix: Youâre INTO IT???
Changbin: My manâs in love AND down bad.
Minho: Please.
Felix: Okay, focus. If groveling isnât your style, do something you.
Hyunjin: Yeah. Seduce her with your weird cat boy energy or whatever.
Minho: Youâre all useless.
Seungmin: Says the man who just admitted to being horny and clueless.
Chan: Minho, she clearly wants you to prove yourself. Youâve got to show her youâre willing to put in effort.
Hyunjin: Write her a song. Serenade her. Cry through it.
Minho: I donât cry.
Jisung: LIES. Iâve seen you cry at those pet videos.
Minho: JISUNG YOU'RE DEAD.
Minho: What if she never forgives me?
Jeongin: She will. Sheâs just mad. Just play along.
Hyunjin: Heâs right. Drama makes us hotter.
Minho: You're all insane đ
Chan: Insane but not wrong. Now, go apologize properly.
---
Minho paced his living room, his mind racing through ideas - romantic dinner? A heartfelt speech? Maybe just tossing himself at your feet and begging?
He needed a plan.
---
Minho: Fine. Give me ideas to make her forgive me.
Jisung: OHOHOHOHOHO.
Felix: Oh, this is gonna be good.
Hyunjin: Okay, everyone, letâs brainstorm.
Changbin: Classic dinner and flowers. Canât go wrong.
Jisung: No, no. Sheâs mad. You need to go BIG. Like, dramatic big.
Minho: Like what? Fall to my knees in the rain?
Hyunjin: YES. Bonus points if you sob.
Minho: Iâm not doing that.
Seungmin: Youâre all useless. Look, Minho, sheâs mad because you hurt her. You need to make her feel special. Do something that shows you actually care.
Jisung: STRIPTEASE.
Chan: Jisung.
Felix: WAIT. THATâS ACTUALLY KIND OF FUNNY.
Hyunjin: Picture this. You show up at her door, music playing, and just start taking things off.
Minho: I want to win her back. Not make her think I'm horny.
Jisung: Coward.
---
Obviously he knew this would happen. He knew it.
---
Chan: Okay, letâs regroup. Minho, what does she like?
Minho: Being mad at me, apparently.
Jeongin: Sounds like she has taste.
Minho: She likes reading. And baking. AndâŚdancing.
Felix: Aha! Bake her something!
Hyunjin: And while itâs baking, do a little dance. Shirtless.
Jisung: OOOH. Combine the ideas. Show up with baked goods and then do the striptease.
Minho: Oh my God.
Seungmin: You could apologize like a normal person, you know.
Felix: Whereâs the fun in that?
Jisung: No, no. We need something iconic.
Felix: Okay, serious suggestion: Show her that you actually listened to her. Her favorite food? Or something thoughtful that shows you care about what she likes.
Minho: Like�
Hyunjin: Cook her favorite meal.
Chan: Or bring her flowers that mean something.
Jisung: Or do the striptease.
Minho: STOP WITH THE STRIPTEASE.
Felix: Itâs not a bad idea, you know. Women love confidence.
Minho: Iâll do the cooking idea. But if this backfires, I'm gonna hunt each one of you down and then see what happens.
Jisung: Lies. Youâll be back to cry about it.
---
Minho got to work. He spent hours perfecting your favorite meal, rehearsing his apology in front the mirror, and trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss you. God, he just wanted to cuddle you and tell you how much his life sucked without you in it.
When he finally knocked on your door, you opened it to find him standing there, holding so many containers of food and looking uncharacteristically nervous.
âHi,â he said, voice soft. âCan I come in?â
You crossed your arms, and sighed.
"Minho, I really don't have the time-"
"I made your favorite," he said, holding up the containers. "And I will grovel if that's what it takes."
You did love it when he cooked for you.
âThis better be good.â
Minho stood in your living room, wringing his hands as you sat on the couch, glaring at him. He set the food on the coffee table and looked at you, his sharp tongue failing him for once.
âI was afraid,â he finally said, voice low.
âAfraid of what? Being happy?â You asked, arching an eyebrow.
Minho winced.
âYes. No. I meanâŚGod, I donât know. Youâre everything to me, okay? And I was scared Iâd ruin it. And then I did ruin it, and now Iâm standing here like an idiot, begging you to let me fix it.â
âYou⌠you really mean that?â You asked, your voice softer now, your eyes obviously filling up with tears.
âIâve been a mess without you. I love you and Iâm sorry it took me so long to realize it, but I do. I love you, and Iâll spend as long as it takes proving it to you.â he whispered, and you sighed, standing up and stepping closer to him.
âYouâre such a dumbass, you know that?â
âYeah, I've been told.â
And then he cupped your cheeks with his hands and kissed you. Rough and messy, the tension melting away as your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.
âYou better not mess this up.â you muttered against his lips.
âNot a chance.â
---
Minho: Weâre trying the relationship thing.
Felix: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!
Hyunjin: FINALLY.
Jisung: Thank you đ
Changbin: Congrats, lover boy.
Chan: Proud of you, Minho.
Felix: Did she like the food?
Minho: Um, it kinda went cold. Sheâs heating it up now.
Hyunjin: LMAO.
Jisung: What about the striptease? Did you do it?
Minho: đđđ
Jisung: ANSWER THE QUESTION, COWARD.
Minho: We did strip. So⌠hehe.
Felix: SIR.
Hyunjin: NOT THE âHEHE.â
Jisung: I CANâT BREATHE.
Changbin: YOU DOG.
Chan: Minho, for the love of God.
Minho: You asked.
Jisung: My dude really said, âShe forgave me, and then we got NAKED.â ICONIC.
Jeongin: Please. I just came here to see if Minho hyung was still single, and now I want to bleach my brain.
Chan: Can we not, for once, be so feral?
Hyunjin: Youâre in the wrong chat for that, Christopher.
Jisung: Anyway, so⌠did you, like, destroy the house or⌠?
Minho: I will never speak to any of you again.
Jisung: YOU CANâT JUST DROP âWE STRIPPEDâ AND THEN LEAVE.
Felix: Itâs called a cliffhanger, Ji. Let the man be mysterious.
Hyunjin: Yeah, mysterious about how whipped he is.
Felix: Totally
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @hanadulsetaad
#skz#stray kids#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know x y/n#lee know fluff#lee know angst#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#skz fluff
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