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mangionebabymama · 18 hours ago

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Awaken — Luigi Mangione

Summary: After undergoing a surgical procedure for his spinal disorder, at last, Luigi wakes up in recovery after surgery, and there you are, by his side.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None, just a lot of fluff and feels

A/N: this was one of the first ideas that I ever came up with and imagined when I made my Tumblr account, inspired by me getting my gallbladder out two months ago. Writing this had me yearning. 😔

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed softly, their sterile glow illuminating every corner of the recovery room with a clinical brightness that felt almost harsh. The air was thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic, mingling with the weight of fatigue that settled over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, amidst it all, your attention was riveted on him—on Luigi.

His chest rose and fell in unsound, shallow breaths, each one a reminder of his fragility. The pallor of his skin stood in stark contrast to the crisp white of the hospital pillow that cradled his head. As you watched, his dark lashes fluttered for just a moment, and a rush of hope surged through your heart. You leaned in closer, captivated by the sight of him, and your fingers brushed softly along the rough stubble of his jawline, a silent gesture of affection and longing for him, even in sickness.

He’s waking up.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly. “Hi, my beautiful boy.” His eyelids flickered again, and this time they stayed open, revealing those hazel eyes you loved so much—clouded with confusion and fatigue, but still unmistakably his. Luigi blinked a couple of times, like he was trying to piece together where he was, and why everything felt so heavy, as if all of the anesthesia thrust upon him, putting him away in a deep sleep, had banished him to a whole another world, almost a million miles away, and he was trying to find his way back home.

“Mmm…” His voice was a low rasp, barely audible, but it shivered through you. With a tender touch, your hand glided to his cheek, cradling it as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. Slowly, his eyes found yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling despite the knot of worry in your chest. “You’re okay. You’re out of surgery. Everything went perfectly.”

His brow furrowed, and he winced slightly, shifting in the bed. “Hurts…” he managed, his voice strained.

“Oh, I know, baby,” You gently brushed your fingers through his hair, tucking it back from his forehead as you whispered sweetly to him. “But it’s going to get better now. No more pain. No more constant ache in your back. This is the start of something new, Lu. It’s a whole new start… it’s gonna be all over now.”

He let out a soft groan, a sound filled with frustration and longing. His hand twitched slightly, as if a deep-seated desire compelled him to reach for yours, yet he struggled to summon the strength to move. The weight of exhaustion seemed to anchor him down. Not wanting to wait for him to gather his resolve, you gently took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together with care. As you squeezed softly, a warmth spread between you, a small gesture that conveyed comfort and connection, bridging the distance that had momentarily felt insurmountable. “You’re so strong,” you cooed, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “So incredibly strong. You made it through this, and I’m so proud of you.”

His lips parted, and he struggled to find words for a moment. “You… stayed,” he finally said, his voice heavy with drowsiness and deep appreciation.

“Of course I stayed,” you replied, your throat tightening. “Where else would I be?”

A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he closed his eyes again, exhaling slowly. “Love you,” he mumbled, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You sat quietly in the dimly lit room, the soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor punctuating the stillness like a metronome keeping time. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of something floral from a nearby vase. His chest rose and fell steadily, each breath a gentle reminder of life, and you could see the tension ease from his face as he slowly slipped back into the embrace of slumber. The tranquil atmosphere wrapped around you both, creating a cocoon of peace amid the chaos outside the room.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, his eyes opened again, clearer and more focused this time, and he was awake.

“How… how long was I out?” he asked, his voice steadier now.

“About three hours since they brought you back here,” you said, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “The surgery itself took a little over four. But you’re doing great. Really.”

He nodded slowly, wincing again as he shifted slightly in the bed. “I feel… stiff. Heavy.”

“That’s normal,” you assured him, your fingers gently trailing down to massage his shoulder. “Your body’s been through a lot today. Just take it easy, okay? Let yourself rest.”

His gaze lingered on you, and it was intense, in spite of his exhaustion. Something unspoken was in his eyes, tender and raw, making your breath catch in your throat. “Stay with me,” he said quietly, almost pleadingly.

“Of course,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere; I’m going to stay overnight like I planned.”

For a long moment, you just looked at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you two. With a gentle breath, you leaned in slowly, your heart racing as your lips met his in a delicate kiss. It was soft and unhurried, the kind of kiss that lingered in the air, infused with a sense of tenderness. As your lips brushed together, a spark of warmth unfurled within you, spreading like the first rays of dawn—the softness of the moment wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. When you pulled back, his eyes were not wholly lidded, content with what they laid themselves upon, but all together, drowsy from sleep.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“For being here. For… taking care of me.”

Your chest tightened, and you had to swallow hard before you could respond. “You don’t have to thank me, Luigi. This is what love is. It’s just you and me. Being there for each other, no matter what.”

He didn’t say anything, but how he looked at you told everything. And then, as if the effort of staying awake had become too much, his eyelids drooped, and he let out a deep, shaky breath. Within moments, he was asleep again, his hand still loosely clasped in yours.

You watched him for a while, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes, memorizing every detail. Even now, exhausted and vulnerable, he was breathtaking. And knowing that he trusted you enough to let his guard down like this—to show you this side of himself—filled you with a sense of awe you couldn’t quite put into words.

Eventually, you reached for the chair beside the bed and dragged it closer, settling in without letting go of his hand. Your thumb brushed absently over his knuckles as you gazed at his peaceful expression, your mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. The path to recovery would be anything but straightforward. It would be filled with challenges, and there would undoubtedly be moments of pain that would test resilience. Frustration would creep in, especially during the tough times when progress seemed painfully slow or when setbacks felt overwhelming. Doubts would occasionally surface, casting shadows over hope. Yet, through it all, you would stand strong together, facing each hurdle as a unified front. This bond you shared had always seen you through the darkest moments, providing comfort in knowing that no matter how difficult the journey might become, you would never have to face it alone.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the hum of the hospital faded into the background, leaving only the sound of Luigi’s steady breathing and the quiet rhythm of your own heartbeat. And in that stillness, you found a strange kind of peace—a certainty that no matter what challenges came your way, you would come out stronger on the other side.

Sometime later, you felt his hand twitch in yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find him watching you again, his eyes sleepy but sparkling with affection.

“Still here,” he murmured, his voice rough but warm.

“Always,” you repeated, leaning in to kiss him again.

This time, the kiss deepened—slow and gentle, full of warmth and promise. His free hand cradled the back of your neck, drawing you closer as your lips intertwined with a soft harmony. A sense of warmth blossomed between you, familiar and reassuring, reminding you both of the deep bond you cherished together.

When you finally broke apart, you breathed a little more complicated, your foreheads resting together.

Luigi’s eyes fluttered open again, heavy with exhaustion but still searching for yours. His hand weakly reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm you were real. You leaned into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand softly before pulling back just enough to look at him.

“I promise,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the lump forming in your throat. “I’m here for you, Luigi. For everything—every step of this recovery. Physically, emotionally… whatever you need. You don’t have to do this alone.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, a flicker of gratitude shining through the haze of pain and fatigue. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, like gravel underfoot. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

You shook your head, your fingers trailing down to stroke the stubble along his jawline, every tiny little hair stippling and tickling the skin against your fingertips. “You’re worth it,” you gave your word to him, because it was the truth. Every moment, you thought to yourself, every ache, every late night, every tear—it’s all worth it.

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly beneath your touch. His eyes closed, but he frowned like he was trying to shake off some discomfort, a complication still lingering in his body. “Do you think…” he started hesitantly, swallowing hard, “…you could maybe… play with my hair? Just… until I fall asleep?”

The tremor in his voice sent a sharp pang through your chest, tugging at such emotions you didn't expect to feel. Of course, he didn’t want to ask too much, even now, after everything. Your heart ached for him, for how hard he tried to protect everyone else, even when he was the one who needed protecting the most.

“Of course,” you said immediately, shifting closer to him on the edge of the bed. Your fingers slid into his thick curls, each pretty little ringlet wrapping around each one, gently massaging his scalp with slow, deliberate motions. You would never miss out on the opportunity to play with his hair. He let out a soft groan, his head tilting slightly into your hand, as he sought out more of the soothing caress.

God, he’s beautiful, you thought, watching the tension slowly melt from his shoulders. The dim light of the room caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the dark lashes resting against his pale skin. Even in this state—groggy, disheveled, vulnerable—he was still beautiful. He will always be your beautiful boy— here, now, and forever.

You continued to stroke his hair, your other hand trailing down to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. His breathing deepened, growing slower and more even, but his eyes flickered open again, locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely rising above a murmur, yet it was so full of feeling that it almost brought tears to your eyes. “For being here. For… for not giving up on me.”

Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, catching the slight dampness there. “I’ll never give up on you,” you replied fiercely, leaning down to press another smooch to his forehead. “Never, Lu. You’re stuck with me, okay?”

A small chuckle escaped him, though it was weak and laced with a lack of vitality. “Okay,” he agreed, his eyes drifting shut again. “Stuck sounds pretty good right now.”

You smiled, your fingers continuing their gentle ministrations through his hair. The rhythmic motion seemed to pull him further into sleep, his body sinking deeper into the mattress as the lines of pain on his face softened. Every so often, you’d lean down to brush your lips against his temple or his cheek, murmuring quiet reassurances that you weren’t going anywhere, and in that present moment, he wouldn't have to fear being alone, not ever.

It wasn’t long before his breathing grew deep and steady, the rise and fall of his chest a comforting rhythm. But even asleep, he looked like he was holding onto some unseen weight, his brows slightly furrowed and his jaw tense. You wondered if the pain was following him into his dreams, the haunting torment of his back reawakening and coming back into existence, torturing him throughout the story of a never-ending tale, a living nightmare, to say the least.

With deliberate tenderness, you shifted your hand from his tousled hair to his broad shoulder, applying the lightest pressure, coaxing the tension away and letting him be free from suffering. His body responded almost instinctively, the tightness in his muscles beginning to dissipate under your careful touch. A soft sigh slipped through his lips, a sound that seemed to release all the weight he had been carrying, all the agony he had been forcing to contend with all this time. In that fleeting moment, he entirely transformed, surrendering to a tranquil calmness, as if the world around him had faded, leaving only a profound sense of peace and pleasure.

"There you go,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “Just rest, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers trailed back up to his face, tracing the outline of his jaw and then moving to the curve of his ear. You lingered there for a moment, committing the feel of him to memory—the warmth and feel of his skin, the way his breath fanned across your wrist, the way his presence filled the room even in silence.

His hand twitched as you pulled away slightly, reaching out, almost stopping you from going anywhere further without him. “Don’t go,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep but tinged with desperation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it gently. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. Promise.”

He nodded faintly, his grip on your hand loosening as sleep reclaimed him. You stayed like that for a while, just watching him, memorizing how his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks and his lips parted slightly as he breathed. There was something so inherently comforting about seeing him like this—vulnerable but safe, trusting you completely.

After some time, you leaned back in the chair beside his bed, keeping his hand in yours as you settled in for the night. The room was quiet except for the steady beep of the monitors and the occasional rustle of sheets as he shifted slightly in his sleep.

This is where I belong, you thought, the weight of the day finally settling over you. Right here, with him. No matter how long his recovery took, no matter how many nights you spent like this, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. He was yours, and you were his—simple as that.

Sometime later, you felt his fingers twiddle in your hand again. You glanced up to see him stirring, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked groggily at the ceiling. “Hey,” you said softly, sitting up straighter so he could see you better. “How are you feeling?”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze finding yours. “Sore,” he admitted, his voice rough but more transparent than before. “But… better with you here.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Good,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Do you want me to keep playing with your hair?”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes already closing again. “Please.”

Your fingers returned to their earlier task, combing through his curls and massaging his scalp in slow, soothing circles. It didn’t take long for his breathing to deepen again, his body relaxing under your touch.

As you watched him drift off again, you couldn’t resist leaning down to press one last kiss to his lips—soft and fleeting but filled with all the love and promises you held for him. “Sleep well, my love,” you murmured against his skin. “I’ll be right here.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, even in sleep, and for the first time since he’d come out of surgery, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you were both exactly where you were meant to be, and together, as one, you were meant to be here.

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vidma-kazhe · 3 days ago

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The man opened his private platform up to be a free speech zone.

No, he bought a social media platform to be his own echo chamber. He regularly bans accounts that challenge him or refuse to kiss his ass or bring up his abhorrent and shady practices, while hugely favoring the accounts that suck up to him or match his worldviews - which are often close to those of far-right extremists. Under his management, Twitter has also been repeatedly shadowbanning posts condemning war crimes of russia. Coincidentally, Elon can't pull his tongue out of russia's ass. So, Twitter right no is anything but a free speech zone. It's the "kiss Elon's ass zone".

Just like reaching for a crowd doesn't make a gesture a hitler salute.

I agree, it doesn't. Reaching for the crowd in a historically infamous way while being an avid supporter of pro-nazi political parties, favoring pro-nazi content on his platform, and cooperating with a dictator from a fascist terrorist state, however, do make it a hitler salute. Because this is the environment and the people Elon likes.

No, I don't think he is an evil mastermind. I think he is a stupid, entitled, and deranged manchild who never takes accountability for anything in his life.

He doesn't understand how living people work, he doesn't care about anyone else beside himself, he can't understand that his children want nothing to do with him because he is a shitty absentee parent, so he blames "the left", "the democrats", "the liberals" whenever his daughter refuses to talk to him and calls him out. He can't comprehend that some people will never ever like him, no matter how much money he throws at them or how many times he shows off - and it infuriates him. Instead of letting it go, he would rather insult, demean, libel or reveal private data of the person that dared to deny him anything.

He is a dumbass who believes he is smarter than anyone else and he would use his money, his PR-built image and jeopardize countless lives to fuel this delusion. He is a self-centered moron who thinks he knows better than anyone else and entitled to make military decisions for other countries - like when he ordered to shut off Starlink coverage over Crimea during important Ukrainian operations and patted himself on his empty thick skull for "thwarting WW3".

What is even worse - he is an exploitable dumbass.

He is a threat to the national security of the USA because he, while having a contract with Pentagon, sucks up to putin and engages in "confidential conversations" with him: all russians need to do is to scare the idiot with WW3 for him to surrender any secret information he knows on a silver platter. He is a sock puppet for any unhinged extremists who know how to stroke his ego and gain his favor.

So, Elon Musk may not be a nazi. He may not even consider himself one. He may be just a huge man baby who would do all the controversial things possible because it gets a reaction and it makes him feel giddy because he got the attention he wanted (in the only way his emotional and social intelligence allows him).

But he surrounds himself with nazis, he supports nazi narratives, he uses his influence and wealth to uphold nazis and he uses gestures that nazis like without any care in the world.

This is what makes him a dangerous and cruel idiot.

And this dangerous and cruel idiot is now throwing hitler's salutes at the inauguration, for everyone to see.

jews have been sounding the alarm about the alarming rise of antisemitism and neo-nazi rhetoric around the world for years now, and have been largely dismissed by all sides of the political spectrum. they’re playing the victim, they’re exaggerating, they’re lying, they’re a distraction from other more important issues, etc etc.

i hope this can be a wakeup call for many. if this is shocking to you, i urge you to find jewish voices and creators to follow. antisemitism is a canary in the coal mine for fascism and jewish people are the ones most equipped to recognize it and oppose it.

we will all need each other more than ever for what’s to come. make sure the coalitions and networks you build include jewish people too.

#nazi apologizm #elon musk

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dilf-hunter-fantasies · 9 hours ago

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I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent.

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin'

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy.

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you.

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit.

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit.

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable.

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes.

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice.

They don’t.

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest.

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him.

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever.

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?”

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?”

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now.

“Sure.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop.

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.”

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been—well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—”

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?”

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word.

“You wanna do something for me?”

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking.

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.”

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift.

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---”

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe.

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you.

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant.

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new.

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.”

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place.

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you.

“I think you know what I mean.”

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed.

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.”

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind.

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.”

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head.

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.”

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room.

“Uh, are you talking about sex?”

“Yep.”

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date.

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little.

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug.

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze.

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation.

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.”

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation.

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it.

You hope he meant it.

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless.

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass.

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming.

The next day, you’re still tense.

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts.

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting.

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality.

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings.

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight.

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill.

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard.

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs.

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting.

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy.

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air.

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait.

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something.

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care.

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better.

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now.

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss.

“I know.”

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body.

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans.

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine.

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe.

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time.

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.”

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding.

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low.

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush.

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet.

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine.

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond.

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.”

“Oh, shit.”

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?”

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise.

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears.

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity.

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?”

“Mmm,” is all you can manage.

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.”

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink.

“Gonna–ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you.

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison.

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up.

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.”

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

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prettylilyanime · 12 hours ago

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Blooming Hearts ♡ Chapter 05

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: subtle yn lore gets dropped here…

˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

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After Bakugou had been generous enough to help haul in your endless pile of boxes—a consequence of your admittedly irresponsible spending—it seemed he decided to spare you further torment by announcing his departure.

Something about heading to the training arena to "get some real work done."

Not that his presence was bad.

No, it was torturous in the best way possible!

The I-want-him-to-stay-in-my-room-forever-and-keep-calling-me-princess kind of way.

Did that sound crazy?

Even with your ever-growing crush on the blonde, you couldn’t deny the wave of relief that washed over you at his exit.

He’d seen you like this—flustered, fumbling, barely holding yourself together—had even��insisted you put on those stupid glasses, and yet…

Somehow, it wasn’t as horrible as you expected.

A warm flutter settled in your chest at the realization. He hadn’t cared about your appearance, hadn’t picked you apart like so many others had. It was a refreshing change from the judgment you’d grown used to.

You never quite understood why people felt so comfortable talking about your looks.

You barely felt comfortable talking to people, period.

And yet, strangers—people who didn’t know a thing about you—felt entitled to comment.

Your figure was amazing. Your hair looked great. What diets had you gone on?

God…

Bakugou didn’t seem to care about any of that.

His focus had been on your vision—or lack thereof. A stupid little thing, but the fact that he didn't seem to care about your looks made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Now, left alone in the quiet of your room, you sat cross-legged on your bed, manicured fingers scrolling through your phone.

Your official account, @OfficiallyFlora, gleamed on the screen. The blue checkmark beside your username felt more like a weight than an accomplishment.

Your profile picture, an overly polished shot of you in your glittering hero costume—stared back at you. The flawless image, taken against a pristine white backdrop, was the product of your mother’s money and marketing efforts.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

Too pretty. Too refined. Too far from the girl sitting here now, sock clad in her bedroom, still reeling from the lingering scent of caramel and smoke that Bakugou had left behind.

Are your teeth really even that white in person?

You don’t know…

Your bio reads: Official Page of Pro-Hero Prospect Flora, making your hearts bloom with every step towards justice!

You sighed, rolling your eyes hard enough to strain something. The bio had been written by your mother’s PR team, dripping with saccharine energy that made you cringe every time you read it.

The rest of your feed wasn’t much better: high-definition shots of battles, cherry blossom-themed merch promotions, and glamorous magazine features.

It was a glossy, manufactured version of you that bore little resemblance to the person staring at the screen, glasses perpetually sliding down her nose.

Growing bored of the staged content, you switched to your private account.

Your followers on this one are, well. Your classmates, surprisingly enough, and one of your mother's pool boys who had asked for your Instagram years ago before you ever even had an official page in hopes of getting to talk to you more?!

You can't help but quirk a brow, you should really get him off your page...

Here, the photos were more personal: snapshots of your travels, close-ups of meals you’d enjoyed, and a random assortment of things that caught your eye.

The likes rarely climb beyond single digits, but it was real and a better representation of yourself than the other page.

A pang of curiosity struck as your fingers moved on autopilot, typing in Bakugou’s name.

His official account, curated by Best Jeanist’s team, popped up first. His posts were as structured as yours—action shots, hero promotions, and carefully orchestrated PR moves.

But unlike how you felt about your feed, his action shots were breathtaking.

One image, in particular, caught your attention: Bakugou holding a tiny kitten that had been stuck in a tree. His sharp features softened as he cradled the fluffy creature, his biceps bulging against his hero suit.

You snorted, amused by the juxtaposition. No matter how intimidating he looked, the sight of him with a kitten was almost too much.

Shaking your head, you scrolled through some of your classmates’ accounts. Their updates showed them at the beach, enjoying pizza nights, and huddled around a glowing campfire.

Seems like without Bakugou around to act as head chef, they had to order takeout instead.

You frowned, an unshakable pit forming in your stomach.

You drop your phone onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. Maybe what you needed was a nice meal—something indulgent to shake off the restless energy.

The thought of heading to the nearest convenience store for another pint of ice cream crosses your mind, the idea warm and tempting. But no.

Not this time.

Instead, maybe you could make an effort. Doll yourself up a bit, put on some makeup, and head out into town. Who needs a big group when you’ve got yourself?

Determined to follow through, you sit up and scan the endless boxes of your new purchases. Finally, you land on a little buttercup-yellow tweed Chanel set, complete with a mini skirt and cropped blazer.

You slip it on, the fabric hugging your figure perfectly and highlighting your silhouette in all the right places.

Hell, for this price point, it better do all of the above!

You turn to your vanity, reaching for your makeup bag. You opt for a soft, casual look—subtle yet radiant, with just enough shimmer to catch the light. Twinkly in all the right places.

To complete the look, you sling a new ivory-colored purse over your shoulder. A cute yellow dandelion charm clipped to the side adds just the right touch of cuteness.

Standing in front of the mirror, you take a moment to admire your reflection. You look polished, confident, like someone ready to take on the evening—even if it’s a solo adventure.

Maybe you’d check out that new sushi spot closer to home!

Yeah, it’s fine that your classmates wouldn’t join you! They'd probably just make you more anxious anyways.

But as you’re heading downstairs and toward the door, you suddenly freeze. A realization dawns on you.

Hajime has the weekend off.

You groan out loud. How are you going to get there? You can’t drive!

Frustration bubbles up, and you slap your forehead. Were you really this helpless? The thought makes you wince, embarrassment creeping in at the edges of your thoughts.

"If I speak, you gonna jump and scream again?" A voice, an irritatingly familiar voice announces his presence.

The familiar gruff voice startles you, and admittedly, you do almost scream. Holding it back though, you whirl around to see Bakugou having just walked out of the elevator behind you.

He seems freshly showered, with his hair still a bit damp, out and pushed back from his handsome face. You could smell him from where you're standing.

Ugh, delicious as usual.

“You did kind of surprise me,” you admit, voice sheepish as your eyes dart away from him.

His eyes roam over your figure quickly, though you don't notice the action over your own mourning of the evening.

“You’re going out?”

The question leaves his mouth before he can stop it, and if he could, he’d smack himself upside the head. Why the hell did he even ask? It’s obvious you are. And more importantly—why is he even starting a conversation in the first place?

Up until literally yesterday, you were just another classmate. Background noise. But these back-to-back interactions are becoming unavoidable, and unfortunately, you’re slipping out of the backdrop and into his world.

You shake your head, lips pulling into a soft, resigned smile. “Well, I was going to, but… I just realized I don’t have any way of getting there.”

“Hah? Can’t take the train?”

Heat blooms across your face, creeping down your neck. “Oh, well… I’ve never taken public transportation.”

There’s a beat of silence—just long enough for you to see the exact moment Bakugou short-circuits.

“Is that some shitty joke?”

You thought your cheeks couldn’t possibly burn hotter, but—oh, look at that! They can!

“I- um, well, no. It’s not.” You swallow, fiddling with the strap of your ivory purse. “Hajime’s driven me everywhere since I was little.”

He blinks, slowly. More in disbelief than anything.

“Hajime?”

You nod. “Yeah, um… my personal driver.”

For a second, you think he might actually roll his eyes. On anyone else, the whole spoiled rich kid routine would piss him off. But with you, it’s different.

Maybe it’s the way you look so flustered, like you’re embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe it’s the way your voice dips, like you’re apologizing for just existing.

Either way, it leaves him feeling something weird—something dangerously close to wanting to help. Again.

Twice in one day. A world record, if he says so himself.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

You wince, shoulders curling inward. “I know! It’s bad, okay? But it’s just how I was raised…”

How you were raised?

Bakugou’s brow lifts slightly. So what, you were raised to be a stay-at-home daughter? Spend money like it’s a full-time job?

He knows about your family. Everyone does.

A mother who inherited an entire hero firm from your grandparents—a dynasty so powerful its stocks and investments practically fuel Japan’s economy. And a father who died in the field before you were even born—a rising star in the hero world, gone far too soon.

Your mother, a young heiress to millions. Your father, a pro hero at the height of his career. Expecting their first child. A baby girl—you.

And then, just like that, it all came crashing down.

A mission gone wrong.

A hero lost.

Your father’s death sent shockwaves through the country, leaving Japan in mourning—not just for the man he was, but for the legend he never got the chance to become.

He doesn’t say anything right away—just stares at you with an unreadable expression that makes your stomach churn.

Then, without warning, he mutters, “Get your stuff. We’re going.”

Your head snaps up. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.” He’s already pulling on his sneakers, his movements brisk and determined. “No way in hell am I letting you graduate from U.A. without knowing how to take a damn train. That’s pathetic.”

“Bakugou, you really don’t have to—”

“Second time today.” He cuts you off with a sharp look over his shoulder. “It’s already happening. Move it, princess.”

Your mouth opens, ready to argue—but the words die in your throat when you see the set of his jaw, the fire in his gaze. He’s not going to back down.

You’re not sure what’s more overwhelming—the idea of taking your first train ride…

Or the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is the one dragging you along for the ride.

You gulp, hurrying after him as he strides out of the dormitory, his natural pace effortlessly long and brisk. You almost trip trying to keep up, the heels of your boots clicking against the pavement.

God, why does he walk so fast?

“We’ve got a station down the block from the UA gates,” he says, barely glancing at you. “We’ll go to that one.”

You nod, stiff as a board. “Gotcha. So, um… where did you want to go?”

His blonde brow arches, the side of his lip curling like you just said something unbelievably stupid. “What? This isn’t about me. This is about teaching you how to get on a damn train.”

You wince, embarrassed. “Right. That makes sense.”

The two of you walk in relative silence, the crisp evening air settling over you like a thin veil.

The streets leading to the station aren’t crowded, but there are enough people out that you can feel the occasional passing glance—whether they recognize you as a hero-in-training or simply because you look like you don’t belong in a place as mundane as a train station, you’re not sure.

Your perfectly tailored blazer, Italian leather purse, and neatly manicured nails feel almost too polished for the scuffed pavement beneath your feet.

Bakugou, on the other hand, fits in seamlessly.

His hands are shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his comfy sweatpants loose around his legs and tight at his waist.

He looks completely at ease, like this is just another part of his day—meanwhile, your heartbeat is rattling in your ears at the thought of navigating a train station for the first time.

After a few minutes, you reach the station entrance, the underground stairway yawning open before you. A few commuters shuffle past, swiping their cards at the turnstiles, moving like they’ve done this a million times.

You, however, stay frozen at the top of the stairs.

Bakugou doesn’t notice at first, too busy pulling out his own train pass. But when he looks up and sees you still standing there, brows drawn tight with hesitation, he sighs.

“Seriously?” He tilts his head, exasperation flickering in his red eyes. “It’s just a staircase, princess.”

“I know it’s just a staircase,” you huff, crossing your arms. “I just—” You hesitate, glancing down at the tiled steps leading into the station.

You’ve never been in one of these before, never had to navigate the organized chaos of public transport, never had to think about swiping a train card or picking a route.

A ridiculous thought hits you—you’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you don’t know how to take a train… or the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is the one who has to teach you.

You bite your lip, it's silly and you know it. “What if I mess up?”

Bakugou stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he snorts.

“With that attitude, you’re definitely gonna mess up. Sour face you got going on”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

His smirk is almost smug. “But that’s the whole damn point. You mess up, you figure it out, and then you won’t be a clueless dumbass next time.”

You scowl. “Your motivational speeches suck.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes before nudging your shoulder—just a small push, barely enough to make you step forward, but it’s enough to shake you out of your own head.

“Come on,” he mutters, starting down the stairs. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You inhale sharply and, with no other choice, follow him down.

The air shifts as you descend—cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of rails and the distant hum of an approaching train. Your grip tightens around the strap of your purse, nerves bubbling in your chest.

Why is everything so loud down here?!

Bakugou moves ahead, seamlessly navigating through the turnstiles. He scans his card with an effortless flick of his wrist, stepping through without hesitation.

You, on the other hand, stop in front of the machine, frowning at it like it’s a puzzle you weren’t given the pieces to.

Bakugou turns, watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he drawls.

You glance at the screen, then back at your card. “Do I just… tap it?”

“No, you rub it on the damn thing and hope it opens.”

Your glare is sharp, but you say nothing, instead hesitantly pressing the card against the sensor. The gate beeps, unlocking with a mechanical click.

You blink. That’s it?

“Wow, you did it.” Bakugou’s tone is mockingly slow, like he’s congratulating a toddler for taking their first steps.

You don’t know how, when, or what possesses you with a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, your hand reaches out, shoving his shoulder.

His muscled frame barely budges under your touch, solid beneath the fabric of his hoodie.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He snorts, a short chuckle slipping out as he steps toward the platform, the train’s arrival chime ringing through the station.

Then, as you approach the edge of the platform, a realization slams into you like a ton of bricks.

“…Wait.” You stop in your tracks, eyes widening. “How do I know which train to take?”

Bakugou exhales so deeply it sounds like his soul is actively trying to escape his body.

“God help me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his jaw tightening as if he’s physically restraining himself from saying something he’ll regret.

For the first time today, you swear he actually looks pained.

Oh lord. Oh good grief. If you were just about anybody else right now, Bakugou wouldn’t just be snapping—he’d be out of here so fast, you’d be left choking on smoke.

The fact that a pro-hero-in-training, someone who’s supposed to be saving lives, has never taken a damn train is the kind of thing that should be illegal.

So why is he still here?

Why hasn’t he turned on his heel, thrown up his hands, and left you to fend for yourself like any rational, self-respecting person would?

He blinks, his gaze lingering on your face, and for a brief moment—so fast you almost miss it—you swear there’s something unreadable flickering behind those sharp red eyes.

Maybe it’s the way your lashes frame your doe-like eyes, dark and long, casting delicate shadows across your cheeks. Curse you and your stupid, stupid eyes. Is this some kind of second quirk? A hypnosis ability?

Or maybe—just maybe—it’s the way you fidget without realizing it.

Your hands twist together, fingers tangling like they’re trying to hold onto something steady.

Absentmindedly, you twirl the diamond-encrusted eternity band on your index finger, turning it over and over in a nervous rhythm. It catches the dim station light, flashing every time you spin it.

Bakugou’s gaze follows the movement, and something about the unconscious gesture makes his scowl deepen.

“…Tch.” He clicks his tongue, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “You really are helpless, huh?”

The words are gruff, edged with frustration, but he still doesn’t walk away.

Instead, he takes a step toward you, nodding toward the digital display overhead. The glowing letters flicker slightly, listing station names, times, and train lines in a way that makes your head spin.

“C’mon, dumbass. I’ll show you how to read the damn schedule before you get yourself lost in the middle of the city.”

Relief washes over you as you quickly follow his lead. “Ah, thank you!”

“Don’t thank me… just pay attention.”

And you do. You pay such good attention that by the time you finally grasp how the whole system works, you’re practically bouncing on your heels in excitement, a bright grin stretching across your face.

You stand on the platform, buzzing with a newfound confidence, while Bakugou—looking as perpetually unimpressed as ever—waits beside you with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets.

Then, the distant hum of the train grows louder, and soon enough, the sleek cars pull into the station with a sharp metallic whir.

The doors slide open, and you eagerly step forward, your heeled boots clicking against the platform as you move inside. Bakugou follows closely behind, scanning the interior in one quick glance.

The train is relatively full—enough that only one open seat remains near the doors. Without hesitation, Bakugou nudges you toward it.

“Sit,” he says gruffly, grabbing onto the nearest safety pole as the doors begin to close.

You shake your head, brushing him off. “I’m okay.”

He scoffs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “The train moves fast and isn’t super smooth. I’m sure you don’t wanna go through all that with those on.”

You glance down at your shoes—sleek, heeled boots, stylish but sturdy. Your lips curve into a small smile.

“I’ll have you know my hero costume boots are even higher than these.”

His brow arches slightly, the hint of sarcasm sparking in his eyes. “Yeah? I’m impressed, considering how fast you ran away from me on day one.”

Oh, hell.

Heat creeps up your neck at the reminder, your confidence faltering for a split second. But you recover quickly, squaring your shoulders with a dramatic huff.

“Wow, Bakugou Katsuki, impressed? By little ol’ me?” You place a hand over your heart, feigning exaggerated awe. “It’s an honor.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but there’s something unreadable in the way his gaze lingers on you for just a moment longer.

Then, the train lurches forward.

Despite all your earlier bravado, you do wobble slightly—just enough for Bakugou’s smirk to return in full force.

“…Told you to sit, dumbass.”

But you can’t.

Not because you’re too stubborn. Not because you’re still trying to prove a point.

But because—oh.

A singular, large hand is suddenly tight on your waist, steadying you with an effortless grip.

Oh my.

Who needs a safety rail when Pro Hero Dynamight is holding you like this?!

You internally scream, the realization hitting you all at once. The touch itself isn’t anything crazy—it’s barely even a thing, just a reflex, something automatic, instinctual. Nothing compared to the absolute torture of this morning’s, uh, straddling situation.

And yet, this feels just as bad—if not worse.

Why? Because Bakugou, in all his brash, loud, obnoxious glory, doesn’t even seem to realize he’s still holding onto you.

His grip is firm, warm even through the thick expensive fabric of your clothes, and worst of all? It lingers.

Still there.

Still present.

Still burning through your skin like a brand.

Oh, hell.

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#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo katsuki #x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #blooming hearts #bakugo x y/n #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #my hero academia x reader

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beatrixst0nehill · 3 days ago

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Ethan knocked on Laura's desk, stirring her as she started nodding off to sleep. "Rise and shine, darling!"

"Oh, Mr. Henderson, sorry! I wasn't sleeping, I just.... I probably need a coffee."

"Why not get up and get one?"

Laura blushed. "Ummmm..... I, uh..... I'd rather not get up."

"Now why's that? And straighten up your back, your posture is getting terrible, darling."

Laura tried to sit up straight but didn't quite make it as the weight of her thirty-pound breasts lifted off her desk. "I'll try.... it's getting a bit hard to carry these things."

"Nonsense, you aren't even that large yet, Kim in accounting has breasts double your size and she's fine."

"She uses a wheelchair...."

"See? You just need to get inventive. And if you want to keep earning a paycheck with my company you better not get any funny ideas about skipping your supplements."

"I know, I know..... I like working here. It's just kind of hard to grow such big boobs so fast. I'm not used to it, is all."

"Well, you better be grateful, darling. Since Prop 845 passed, I could technically make extreme pregnancy mandatory or even have you strapped into a fuck machine all shift. I could tell our company insurance to prescribe almost anything to you, or perform any surgery. There are plenty of companies where every female employee is turned into a quad amputee!"

"I know.... Thank you for taking pity on us...... I'm happy to grow such massive breasts for you and all my coworkers to enjoy."

"That's the spirit." Ethan placed his hand on Laura's breasts, squeezing it. "My, they are getting nice and full aren't they."

"Yeah....." Laura blushed and nodded submissively.

"Now you get back to work, but I better not see you dozing off!"

"I know, I just..... these company parties are taking it out of me! It's a struggle to carry my boobs around but to perform for so many men almost every work night until 1am! Sir...... My whole body aches."

"I know, you are quite the trooper, and you're getting very popular with your coworkers. It's impressive watching that pussy and ass of yours take so many hours of abuse in a row. You're quite the seasoned little nymph."

"I don't have much choice...."

"All while carrying these little rays of sunshine." He forcibly pushed back her shoulders, pushing her back in her seat a couple feet, revealing her big round belly sticking out, covered in stretch marks, babies kicking and squirming inside. He held her shoulders up, head tilted back as he kissed her neck smacking her belly a few times. "I appreciate your commitment to the company by getting nice and pregnant from our staff parties."

"I-I don't really have much choice, sir. They fill my pussy up for hours on end every work night......"

"Good girl. I like to think of us as one big family at this company." He squeezed one of her overgrown breasts, causing it to squirt milk through her top. "I'm the dad, and you're the cum-rag little sister we all use to relieve ourselves in." He arched her back more, kissing her on the lips from behind.

Laura tensed up, tapping on his hand holding her shoulders back, the strain from her breasts and belly feeling unbearable. "Ummm! Sir, please let go!"

"Nonsense, darling. Let's have some--"

Laura gasped as a loud click came from her neck. "!!! What was that!?"

"Oh dear, that didn't sound good. I told you sleeping at your desk wasn't a good idea....."

"Uhhhh, I can't feel my arms or legs! Wh-What's going on?"

Ethan smiled, propping her against the back of her chair. He roughly squeezed both of her breasts. "Can you feel that?"

She shook her head. "No...."

"How about this?" He slapped her pregnant belly as hard as he could, so the whole office could hear.

"Nothing.... Mr. Henderson....! I can't feel anything. I can't move anything below my neck!"

"Awwww, poor thing." He suddenly wheeled her out in front of the whole floor. "Announcement everyone. Announcement! Ms. Laura Davis's back just snapped from her unwavering dedication to our company and its bottom line! This is the kind of commitment I want to see from you girls. Now our Laura will need help doing everything from going to the restroom, to getting around the office. Hey, Mason, can you train Ms. Davis on how to use our ocular computer software so she can get back to her remarkable data entry skills. And feel free to have some fun with her along the way, not like she can get up and stop you. From now on, Ms. Davis is free use, I'll be promoting her as our new Stress Relief Expert as of this afternoon! Congratulations, Laura."

The whole floor erupted into applause as people walked up to Laura, congratulating her one by one, some lifted her hand, others grabbed her breasts or rubbed her belly as they congratulated her. Laura gracefully nodded and thanked all of her coworkers, blushing deep red.

One guy reached between her legs, fondling her wet sex. "No reason to hold back anymore, we can go all out and you won't feel a thing. Can't wait to bring the guys to the company party tonight. We're gonna have some serious fun now, girlie."

Laura gulped and nodded. "I-I can't wait.... I'll do my best to satisfy you..... even if I won't feel a thing," she said, almost relieved she won't have to feel every guy at the company relentlessly pound her ass and pussy for hours every work night.... Laura smiled gratefully, thinking to herself it'll be kind of fun to just watch everything happen to her body instead of having to endure it. Even if she'll miss cumming over and over....

#breast expansion #be #breast growth #breast inflation #body modification kink #forced breast expansion #pregnant kink #forced breast inflation #forced impreg #dark kinks #immobile kink

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lostintransist · 3 days ago

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Fallen Angel | Charcuterie

Part 1 | AO3 | *This is a story told in scenes and can be read in any order though is listed in chronological order on the masterlist.

<I know you still have it. Can you take the credit card and buy a bunch of cheeses, meats, fruits, and pick up some of those fancy ice cube trays you’ve been eyeing?

The message from Simon had you fighting back the urge to rip him a new asshole. You know he isn’t trying to be rude. The guys were due home after six weeks gone and Simon needed a few days to acclimate to the fact you were not one of the soldiers and would bitch him out if he tried to treat you as such. It didn’t help that your period was kicking you down every step it could find and then dragging you into the octagon by your hair to go ten rounds.

>Incorrect. I snapped that fucker in half because it made me nauseous to have a black card in my wallet when I couldn’t afford to fill my tank.

Ten minutes pass before your phone dings with the message tone.

<You snapped a metal card in half?

>Yes. I was very determined.

You can feel the nose pinching from wherever Simon might be right now. He only did that move when exasperated. You watched John pull the same move about any number of minor annoyances.

John’s face appears on your phone for a video call within three breaths. Of course, they were talking about you.

Rolling your eyes and praying your eye doesn’t start twitching you answer the call. John is sporting a new bruise on his cheek and a split lip. You know better than to comment on it since the guys will let you look them all over when you get home.

“Hi, love. Can you do me a favor?”

Your tongue slides over your teeth behind your lip, the syrupy sweetness of his voice makes you want to reach through the phone and strangle him. Fuckers must not have deleted the period tracking app from Johnny’s phone like you demanded they did.

“What?” You ask brusquely.

“In my bedside drawer is a plain envelope with your name on it, inside is your copy of the card to the house fund. Can you take that and go buy whatever Simon already texted you and a snack for yourself?”

You can hear Johnny in the background asking to say hi and then getting promptly dragged away. From what you can see around John they are on a military base somewhere, the nondescript buildings in light beige and gray giving it away.

“Which bedside drawer John? All of your drawers can be reached from your bed.”

He had two and every time you visited his room to spend time with him or to simply sniff his pillows because you missed him you noticed the two nightstands and the massive dresser next to the bed.

Gary’s bark of a laugh reached you as John focused off-screen to glare at him.

John’s face softens when he turns back to look at you.

“The nightstand closest to the door, please.”

“Why have you been keeping a card for the house account from me? None of you let me pay anything into it.”

You weren’t bitter about that argument still. You weren’t.

He lets out a slow breath as he decides you won’t pick this fight back up now.

“I wasn’t keeping it from you. It only arrived before we left on this last job and I haven’t had a chance till now to tell you about it. But from what you did to the card from Simon it seems like a good thing I haven’t given it to you yet.” He looks at you with one brow cocked under his hat.

“Keep it up John and I will shrink all your hats one by one.”

The smile that broke across his face at your threat warmed you from the inside out.

“We love you, and we will be home by six. Be sure to stop by the pharmacy and get some painkillers for your cramps.”

With that, he ended the call.

“Fucker,” you mutter angrily to yourself as you stomp across the house and into John’s room. “Telling me what to do from across the country so I don’t bite him. Yes, I need pain meds and yes we are out. No excuse hang up the call instead of letting me yell at him like a man.”

Your angry tirade continued as you slid on your shoes and drove first to the pharmacy and then to the store. You bought two energy drinks to ensure you could survive until your guys got home and then spent an hour looking at cheese. Okay, more like an hour talking to the cheesemonger before getting yourself a couple of slices of Swiss and turkey to go along with the fancy cheeses you bought for the guys. The ice trays you did not need to buy this trip since you had already bought some two weeks ago to make your at-home drinks more fun.

At 5:30 the cheese tray sat ready, the ice had fully frozen, and all of the guy’s preferred alcohol had been pulled from the liquor cabinet. Cracking open your energy drink you transferred it into a new glass and sat down to wait for them. They would be early. John seemed to forget that when they were all motivated to get home they moved faster. Fifteen minutes earlier than John’s prediction and they rolled in the door. You rose to meet them, flurries of kisses and hugs as they all dispersed to their rooms to change and come back to the kitchen for food.

Gary came back first, wrapping himself around you like if he squeezed just right he could absorb you. You smiled and leaned into the love, having missed them tremendously while they were gone.

“You come back whole?”

He hums in confirmation and then is peeled off of you as Kyle replaces him in your embrace. Gary doesn’t fight it; instead, he grabs a plate and piles it high with the many options you grabbed beyond cheese and meat. This process is repeated until all of your men have been grounded in your presence and gorge themselves on food.

Finally able to move freely again you grab your own plate from the fridge and sit down at the table with them.

Johnny pokes at your plate.

“What’s this now?”

“I didn’t want fancy cheese so I bought some normal cheese,” you shrug as layer a cracker, cheese, and a bit of your turkey to pop into your mouth.

His hand sneaks forward to try and steal one for himself but you smack the back of his fingers before he can touch your plate. With one hand over your mouth, brows pulled together in frustration, and an angry finger pointed his way, Johnny gets the point.

Swallowing hard to clear your mouth you address him.

“If you don’t want fancy cheese next time don’t let Simon be in charge of texting me. You know he always wants the good stuff,” you finish your sentence with a sip from your glass. “Now if no one else needs me I am going to go curl up and die.”

Kyle opens his mouth to add something but you speak over his objections.

“I will lay down in John’s bed so everyone can fit in for a cuddle.”

John and Simon share a smile before looking back at you.

Your loves were home, and with them came the constant evolving chaos that was the home you shared.

Masterlist | Fallen Angel Masterlist

@lilynotdilly

#Fallen Angel COD #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #roach x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader

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fanatic564 · 2 days ago

Text

Abandon Weakness (Am I a Weakness?) (DPxDC) Chapter 1

Learning Weakness 1 2 AO3 Link Here

Summary

Danny can't help but feel as if he's been in this position before. A bag hastily thrown into his arms. Someone leading him away from a threat. The sweet, acidic taste of Lazarus water ectoplasm at the back of his throat. It's all so familiar it's almost nostalgic.

A Prequel to Learning Weakness, showing Danny escaping Amity Park and making his way to Gotham. Notes:

I promise I'm working on the next chapter of Learning Weakness. But I've had this outlined since chapter one, so I knew how Danny made it to Gotham. I got inspired to actually write it out. (I might be procrastinating, its fiiiiine).

"What do you think Father is like?"

The question broke the comfortable silence that surrounded the two small boys laying next to each other on the bed.

"Strong."

"That's it?"

"What else could he be? There's a reason Mother and Grandfather chose him to bear the heir of the family name."

"Hm."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well. It's just… you are everything that Mother and Grandfather are. Strong. Skilled. Unstoppable. But what about me? I'm nothing like any of you. I'm weaker and I can't bring myself to be as ruthless as you all. So surely I must take after Father?"

Another beat of silence, before one of the boys shuffled closer, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around the other.

"If that is true, then Father must be kind. He must be compassionate, and too good for the League. Because that is what you are, Ahki. And I swear, I will do everything in my power to make sure you can stay that way. So that when we meet him, he will know in an instant that you are his son."

"I love you, Dami."

"I love you too, Danyal."

~ ~ ~

"Come on, Danny. Now is not the time to be spacing out." Danny shakes his head. Sam is right. He can think about the past when he's not actively being hunted.

"Yeah man. We're almost there." Come now Habibi, the first safehouse is just up ahead.

Danny pushes the thought aside. He runs faster, using his ghost abilities to drag Sam and Tucker down the street and through the wall of a building.

Said building is an old abandoned house at the edge of Amity Park. The place is boarded up with no visible entrance for a normal person, but that can't stop someone who can phase through walls like they aren't there. Inside, most of the furniture is covered with dust and grime. All except for the dining room table, which has been cleared by the teens for their own use.

On top of the table, there is a lidded box next to a pile of papers. Danny pulls his bag up onto the table next to them.

"You sure you'll be okay, dude? I can still get you set up somewhere. Make you a bank account and a fake ID and everything. I only need a little bit of time-"

"If you couldn't tell, we're out of time already. He can't wait any longer"

"You guys have done a lot for me. I can't thank you enough. But, you can't get any more involved in this. The Guys in White already have you on their radar and once Mom and Dad get them to join the search, plausible deniability is your best shot at safety."

His friends look at each other before turning back at him. "If you're really sure."

"I am. You guys should go. Your houses will likely be one of the first places they look and you need to be there when they do."

The three teens stand there for a moment staring at each other. The moment ends when Sam flings her arms around Danny to cling to him.

"I'm gonna miss you. You better contact us as soon as you find a place to settle down. You hear me Daniel Fenton‽"

Danny laughs lightly in response before looking over to Tucker. "What, not gonna join the goodbye hug? You wound me Tuck."

Tucker rolls his eyes before moving to join the hug. Once he is within reach, Danny wraps his own arms around both of them. His core hums as he holds two of the people closest to him. Eventually though, he has to let them go. They say their final goodbyes before Danny turns them intangible and herds them out of the building.

And then he is alone.

Alone to finally think about everything that has happened. And just how similar it is to what happened to him before, all those years ago.

Family members wanting him dead. A sibling being left behind (and Danny feels a pang in his chest at that. At least with Jazz, he has a way to contact her again, when all is said and done.) Danny escaping with the help of someone he loves. Not knowing what is in store for him past this point. Danny running from a throne he doesn't think he is qualified to take.

~ ~ ~

Before Danny lived at Amity Park, before he was killed by the portal, before he became a ghost fighting vigilante, Danyal Al Ghul had been killed by his own brother. Well, before even that he had been a part of a cult of literal assassins. One of the heirs to said cult, in fact, the son of Talia Al Ghul and a man named Bruce Wayne. But, since a cult of assassins didn't need more than one heir, Danyal's grandfather had ordered a duel between the twin. And thus, Danyal's death.

Of course, as seemed to be a recurring theme in his life, Danny did not stay dead.

Instead, with the sound of clocks in his ears and the burning taste of the pit he was thrown into in his mouth, Danny awoke from his death.

(Clockwork would later explain his role in the event to him. How it hadn't been his time yet, and so he influenced Mother into putting Danny in the pits. How he watched the ensuing journey to assure he made it to his destination in one piece as opposed to alive, where the beginning of his journey was death, and the end result would always be death even if years down the line . )

He made it to Amity Park, and was eventually found and adopted by the Fenton Family. It was like comparing night and day, comparing life with the Fentons to life with the League of Assassins. While the league was strict, with rules being strictly enforced and discipline served ruthlessly, the Fentons had a more… hands-off approach. Hands-off meaning barely there, always in the basement working on their 'research'. At first, Danny had been ecstatic for the distance. Less rules barely any, no discipline having to fend for himself , no having to learn how to murder and hurt and….it had been everything Danny had wanted.

Of course Danny missed his brother, and Mother, and even Grandfather on occasion. But Danny could never return, never see them again, in order to keep all of them safe. And so he enjoyed the freedom that living with the Fentons provided.

With that freedom, Danny did research. He learned more about his father, how he was a billionaire living in the city of Gotham who had a habit of adoption that was frankly concerning. He learned that Gotham itself had to be chock full of ectoplasm, with how full of crime and fear the city was. The city had heroes and vigilantes and crime lords and-

And his brother.

Those next few years were a blur. Danny gained close friends in the form of Sam and Tucker. Danny slowly learned to push aside his assassin past and live a normal life. Then he died again. And then he became a vigilante. And then he gained another sister in the form of Ellie. And then he defeated Pariah Dark. And the Jazz went to college left him alone with them.

And then his parents discovered it all.

(Well, maybe not all of it, but enough to know he was no longer safe in Amity Park.)

~ ~ ~

Danny and his friends had a plan for if his parents ever discovered that he was Phantom and they didn't react well. They put together a to-go box for him to grab before fleeing, with an ecto-infused burner phone, some snacks and water bottles, a decent supply of ecto shots, spare clothes, and a few other miscellaneous items. The last part of their plan was supposed to be finding a place for him to flee to. But, they thought they had more time, didn't think this would happen so soon. And so all Danny has to go off of is the pile of papers next to his box, with lists of pros and cons for several different locations that he can go to.

His friends don't know this, but Danny has long since made his decision on where to go. He can't go to where Jazz is going to college, there isn't enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. In fact, most places they discussed didn't. However, there is one option, all the way at the bottom of the pile, that Danny knows will be perfect. To Sam and Tucker, it is a last resort spot, somewhere to go if there is absolutely no other option. Despite the abundance of apparent ectoplasm in the air, the risks are not worth it in their eyes. The ectoplasm seems like the only pro in a sea of cons for them. But for Danny? There is a second pro that outweighs every con tenfold.

Danny can finally reunite with his brother. With Dami. End Notes: Feel free to point out any mistakes.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danyal al ghul #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanatic fics #learning weakness

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rei-ismyname · 3 days ago

Note

Who do you think has been the best at writing Kurt and what is your favorite stage of the character? Personally, Kurt from Excalibur is my big favorite.

Hey! I don't think I've actually talked about Kurt much, aside from complaining about his NPC status and bizarre priest coding (that was quickly reversed) in From The Ashes

It's hard to argue with Excalibur as a defining run for Kurt's character and his themes. He got to buckle his swash and I really enjoy the relationships built during Excalibur (except Brian. Dude sucks IMO) - even if those relationships and shared experiences have been backgrounded of late. I wasn't aware of different authors when I first read it but looking back Alan Davis if I have to pick.

My favourite stage of the character though is Krakoan Age Kurt. I enjoyed him under Hickman's pen (even if the third law was a mistake.) Si Spurrier made some pretty massive missteps in Way of X but I'm glad that his reaction to Krakoa generally and The Crucible specifically was explored. There's a lot of ways to approach 'I need to start a mutant religion' and zooming in on his personal crisis of faith and allying him with Legion really worked for me.

Focusing on people and examining the laws with the background threat of Onslaught was clever, and he reached the only conclusions that makes sense. I do wish it was longer and a deeper dive into the laws, but it'd break the premise a little if The Onslaught Revelation ended and Kurt said out loud that the Krakoan government is corrupt and we need to start from scratch. Everyone nearly died permanently because Xavier has too much power with no means of accountability.

I'd have hated it if he really did start a religion; The Spark was a secular philosophy that addressed his personal crisis and resonated with a certain kind of person. I've seen people call it a religion and it makes me wonder if they read the book. The foray into justice reform in Legion of X is something I loved on a conceptual level - yes he was using his QC position for legitimacy but at its core the Altar and Legionaries was about the little people, the younger folks, those working for redemption. Kurt's pointed and specific refusal to co-operate with Charles Xavier on his authoritarian bs was a great character beat, as was defending Juggernaut's agency and the chance to be better. I do wish the original sin of Sabertooth in the hole was touched on, but Victor LaValle nailed it elsewhere so I can't complain.

Combined with the Quiet Council dissolution in Immortal X-Men I think we'd have seen an upswell of younger, politically engaged mutants eager to reform their home. I digress.

I loved Kurt's time as Spider-Man (or spinnenmann lol) as a kind of back to basics during the worst time for mutants. It's relatable that he'd be overwhelmed by trauma and grief and just want to be 'a whole Kurt Wagner' for a while. Fight some bad guys, have a romance, eat pizza with Spider-Man. I definitely liked the retcons in X-Men Blue: Origins, the follow up in X-Men Forever, but most of all that he was allowed to be angry about it in Uncanny #700. Trust is earned and neither of his bio parents have done that.

As I mentioned, I'm unimpressed with how he's been used in From The Ashes. He's wasted as a background character and I think putting him on the Uncanny team was a mistake. If it was my decision I'd have him as a peacemaker, flitting from team to team and book to book. I especially feel like he'd visit Katschen himself and not be a party to Iceman spying on her. Kurt and Kitty have a much closer relationship. Tom Brevoort has been outspoken about the X-Men killing people in Fall of X - Kurt and Kitty are the perfect lens to explore that through.

I get that he was already taken by Uncanny, but focusing on Logan and Rogue (where their familial relationship 'upgrade' is recent and barely established) to the detriment of other longstanding relationships feels like a waste to me.

It seems I had more thoughts on Kurt than I thought. Thanks for the ask!

#x comics #kurt wagner #x men #excalibur #kitty pryde #way of x #legion of x #nightcrawler #marvel #comics #krakoa

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diamond-reads · 2 days ago

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KAE YLANGELEGY WHEN I FIND YOU.......

but also. thank you. i got the notification for this while i was having a really really shitty day at work, and knowing that i had your writing to come home to made really was a light at the end of the tunnel. and so i must annotate this fic bc it makes me HAPPY and YOU make me happy:

Click.

tara diamonddaze01 #1 lover of onomatopoeia is HERE and i am already in love. the things i would do to freeze every moment spent with jeonghan.... print them and frame them and reminisce about memories.....anyways i digress its literally the FIRST WORD when will i learn how to RELAX

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. There you are.

your camera is trained on him, but jeonghan is trained on you. a beautiful metaphor for how, in your world, he’s the subject of every picture—every thought, every moment. But in his, you’re the only thing in focus. and THEN the "there you are." really hits home - he sees you. i love the idea that the real you begins where the camera ends

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.

say it with me: i LOVE love. and i LOVE this assertion that jeonghan doesn't want your laughter to feel like he's funny (he knows he's funny) but he wants it to feel like he's yours. i love the idea that he collects these victories, these pieces of you like a hoarder. it's subtle, this love - the kind that sneaks up on you in fluorescent-lit rooms and powerpoints presentations; the kind that falls in love with the way your eyes crinkle when he tries to make you smile.

I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!

I love this line, I love the heartfelt emotions that just...sneak up on you. the declarations of love that are sudden, that catch you off guard and make you laugh.

siderbar: oh ur so evil for the beautiful soul mention...... but the lyrics "I don’t want another pretty face / I don’t want just anyone to hold" play so BEAUTIFULLY off the line about laughter being a small victory. jeonghan treasures your laughter - something as intangible and as unique as your soul; jeonghan doesn't try to impress, but the small victories are a connection to you, and you laughter is vulnerable, real, and uniquely yours

i could wax poetic about song lyrics and your writing forever but anyways i digress...

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” “Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. “I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. “Well, I was ignoring you before that.” “Were you?” “Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.”

kae you write your characters with so much love - jeonghan is so fucking ENDEARING i want to put him in my pocket. oh yoon "must-have-the-last-word" jeonghan how i adore you so

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend.

i'm so :((( no one TOUCH ME. his reaction is so.... on the surface, jeonghan is the charismatic, untouchable legend, but beneath it all, you’re the one grounding him, supporting him, making sure the myth doesn’t outshine the man. you’re the quiet, steady presence behind the scenes, and jeonghan loves you for it in ways he probably doesn’t even know how to express fully.... i want to kiss him....

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

sulky pouty BABY come HERE let me KISS IT BETTER!

siderbar: i had never listened to zild before this but oh my god i love this song. my fav lyric so far: "Gagawa ako ng kanta, / Na ikaw ang pamagat" ("I will make a song/With you as the title"). I feel like this mirrors the line "It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind." - you are the one behind his image. your presence in jeonghan's life makes him who his is; he may be the “legend” in public, but in private, you’re the one crafting the story behind the scenes. this is mirrored so well in Lia by the sentiment of putting someone at the forefront of a creation. oh to love someone to the point of creation....

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

oh jeonghan.... here comes my character analysis because kae writes like honey and i am drawn in like a fly:

idk i feel like this jeonghan just thrives on intensity and raw emotion - the imagery of a breakup being "civil" feels so foreign to him because he’s the type who prefers things to be messy, uncontained, and loud. he doesn’t want the quiet closure; he wants something that feels like it mattered, something that leaves a mark. there’s this craving for validation, to feel like the end of something—whether it’s a relationship, a chapter, or a part of himself—needs to be remembered. If it’s civil, then was it even real? Was it even worth the effort?

re: “kicking and screaming” - he wants passion, he wants fight, he wants to know that you two struggled for it. it's like this deep-rooted need to avoid anything that feels too easy, too comfortable. he’s the type to throw himself into the storm of emotions, to feel the thunder roll through his chest, even if it means suffering. because in the suffering, there’s proof of how much it all meant. A quiet goodbye just wouldn’t feel earned for someone like this. he wants to be remembered

if i got this wrong kae pls ignore me. LMAO. ONWARDS!

Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

what a beautiful line - for someone who has spent the entire relationship looking over her shoulder, making sure no one is watching, it speaks volumes to finally lay it all to rest, to see him, to just be.

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” “I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” “Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.”

[sobbing violently] something something to be loved is to be changed...something something to love is to compromise...something something to love is to make space for growth.... no one look at me ever again.

sidebar: oh my GOD tum se hi mention you want me DEAD okay!!!!! one of my favorite lyrics from the song are "Main tera sarmaya hoon" which literally translates to "i have become your property" but stylistically it means "I am because of you". something about that line + this jeonghan makes my heart break in ways i didn't know was even humanly possible. there's this the profound sense of belonging and dependence that the lyric evokes. it’s about becoming something through the other person, because of them—there’s this raw vulnerability in it that makes my chest aches. Jeonghan knows he is because of you, he's so intertwined with you in a way that makes him feel whole.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours.

I apologize i have nothing intelligent to say here. my brain is broken and i am in tears because DEAR GOD i am in love with this man!!!!!!!!!

tldr; kae you have, and i kid you not, my whole entire heart. every character you write is like a thread of gold, and you weave together tapestries of love and life that make me feel. you stitch warmth and light into the fabric of the worlds you create, and when you step back to look at it, there’s this masterpiece that’s almost too beautiful to touch—but you do, and it feels like it was always meant to be held. The way you turn even the smallest, quietest moments into something that glows is like witnessing magic in motion—everything you touch turns to gold, and I feel lucky that i am allowed to feel its glow.

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are.

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you.

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him.

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes.

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone.

There you are.

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none.

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly.

“Still public.”

“Still don’t care.”

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat.

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.”

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter.

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world.

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without.

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.”

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest.

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you.

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness.

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.”

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack.

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.”

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing.

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look.

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely.

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it.

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you.

If only he could get you to stop working.

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by.

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning.

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.”

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake.

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.”

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note.

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.”

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you.

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.”

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore.

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?”

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back.

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.”

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts.

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away.

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?”

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back.

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that.

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick.

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?”

“I mean, yeah—”

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away.

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you.

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home.

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.”

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.”

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back.

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation.

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently.

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead.

“Because of me,” he repeats.

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned.

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.”

You—

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves.

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.”

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing.

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him).

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.”

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.”

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.”

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.”

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his.

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.”

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement.

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve.

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends.

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores.

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise.

He presses, “And the week after that?”

“The week after that, too.”

“What about the month after?”

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.”

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click.

“What are you doing?”

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head.

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment.

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can.

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again.

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets.

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth.

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours.

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot?

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

#dont mind me just sobbing bc the loml wrote me something #and dear god what a masterpiece it is #using tum se hi against me is CHEATING!#but who needs literature when i can just read kae's writing #kae doesn't write they paint and sculpt and leave us with masterpieces #thank you #i adore you #i will love you to the ends of the earth kae #tara reads #svt: yjh #user: ylangelegy #my beautiful moots! 💫#my fav constellations 💫#📝 annotations

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drownedinlavender · 3 days ago

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⋆｡°✩South Park High School AU Headcanons⋆｡°✩

Mainly written to get out of my writers block lmaoo. This is a guide to all my headcanons in my “Be Nice to Me” fanfic

⋆｡°✩ Kyle Broflovski:

6'2”. Tall with lean muscle. Ginger with emerald green eyes and light freckles. Very curly hair with trimmed sides.

Juggles the debate club, basketball team, student council, and too many AP classes to count.

The first to get his driver's license out of the main 4 + Leopold.

His parents got him a car for his birthday for doing so well academically.

Works and volunteers during the summer.

Gets into detention often due to Cartman baiting him into fights.

Has gotten benched multiple times for playing too aggressively in basketball games when instigated by rival teams.

Has a tight knit study group with Wendy, Tolkien, and Nichole.

They help each other out with their AP classes but also consider each other rivals, trying to beat the other for the title of valedictorian.

Very good at first person shooters, often out performing Cartman.

Knows how to build a PC.

Learned how to program in his free time.

Spends time with his family and has a close relationship with Ike.

Knows Cartman’s schedule better than Cartman himself

Begrudgingly gives Cartman rides to school sometimes. Will leave him if he takes too long though.

⋆｡°✩Eric Cartman:

5'10”. Big, bulky build. A lot of arm muscle + big belly. Soft chestnut brunette hair. Dark reddish brown eyes. Thick eyebrows.

Is both on the football and hockey teams. He likes to use both sports as an excuse to be a major asshole towards others and uses his size to his advantage.

In the board games club. Argues with Nichole a lot for leadership.

Has a hard time studying and paying attention due to ADHD.

Does enough school work to pass. Thinks school is pointless and a big scam.

Would much rather play video games or watch TV instead of school work.

Unfortunately, to his Spanish teacher's demise, outperforms others in Spanish class.

Prefers first person shooters but also loves dress up games. Would kill anyone that found out.

Will trash talk your mom but if someone trash talks his mom he WILL dox them.

Loves reality tv. Big fan of RuPaul's drag race, Love is Blind, the Real Housewives.

Is a menace on reddit.

Has gotten his account reported many times on reddit, discord, and twitter.

Planning to major in business or finance in college.

The last of the main 4 + Leopold(Butters) to learn how to drive. Was genuinely too lazy and constantly bummed rides off the others anyway, specially Kyle.

⋆｡°✩Stan Marsh:

5'11”. Average build. Straight dark black hair. Wears a beanie often since his hair gets oily fast. Dark blue eyes.

Stan loves writing and listening to music. He's very big into metal, rock, and Midwest emo right now.

His extracurriculars are football and the board game club.

He volunteers at animal shelters in his free time and fundraisers for the environment.

He's an average student, usually getting Bs and Cs, and a D if he doesn't study enough.

He's terrible at multitasking. He's a very forgetful person.

Wendy and Kyle constantly have to remind him about deadlines and big projects.

On his 16th birthday, his dad gave him his old pick up truck.

Tolkien comes over often and they do homework together. He helps Stan with math a lot.

Stan and Kyle still consider themselves best friends even if they don't live right next door.

Crimson Dawn meets up often, practicing at Stan's since they can be as loud as they want there.

Sometimes friends like Kyle, Wendy, Timmy, and Tolkien come over to just hang out with the others and watch the band practice.

Stan and Wendy have been off and on since elementary school. It's obvious when they're not dating since Stan sometimes relapses back into his goth phase.

Stan and Tolkien have hooked up on a few occasions when Stan and Wendy broke up.

Tolkien has also dated Wendy on more than one occasion.

Stan is the type of kid that casually gets along with every “clique” in school since he doesn't really have beef with anyone. He's a very chill guy who often reacts pretty indifferently to most things.

⋆｡°✩Kenny Mccormick:

5’8”. Very skinny, mainly due to a poor diet. Wavy dirty blonde hair, tends to grow it out or cuts it short depending on his mood. Purple eyes. Front tooth gap.

Kenny's been working overtime while attending school since middle school. He gets paid under the table for most of it.

He saved up just enough to buy a really run down, beat up, used car. It's a stick shift and requires a ton of repairs.

He learned a lot about mechanics in order to save money and not have to take it anywhere to get fixed.

He learned how to drive stick shift and how to fix a car through YouTube.

He takes and picks up Karen from school. He also pays for all of her school supplies and encourages her to pick up extracurriculars.

Kenny doesn't have to study in order to get good grades in school. He barely has to do his homework either. As long as he listens to the lectures and skims through the material, he’ll pass. If he didn’t work overtime then he would be highly ranked in their year.

Kenny barely sleeps 4 hours a day. 5 on a good day.

He plans to keep working at the same pace and go to a trade school. Once he is more settled and his sister is an adult able to stand on her own, he might go back to school but he doesn't really stress about it and prefers living day by day then worrying about the future.

⋆｡°✩Leopold Butters Scotch:

5’9”. Lanky. Light blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

Works while attending school. Is very good at saving money.

Bought his own car at 16. Very safe driver with the occasional outburst of road rage.

Bought his own gaming PC. It's Hello Kitty themed. His favorite games are Animal Crossing and Hello Kitty Island Adventure.

Does very well in school.

Tutors others in his free time.

Volunteers to read for preschoolers at the community library.

Works as a summer camp counselor during the summers.

Cartman copies his homework when he isn't looking.

Part of the Board Game club and the Cheerleading squad.

Still gets grounded by his parents a lot but plans to live in College dorms soon.

Misc.

⋆｡°✩Clyde is part of the football team and basketball team. Sports are his bread and butter. He doesn't do well academically. Cry baby. Is on and off with Bebe.

⋆｡°✩Craig is captain of the space club. Wants to become an astronaut. Has been consistently dating Tweek ever since getting shipped by the Asian girls.

⋆｡°✩Tweek works at his dad's coffee shop while attending school. It has become a bit of a hub for the kids to hang out so it's doing well and he gets paid well. Is great at saving money. Loves playing DnD and really gets into character. Attends the space club with Craig.

⋆｡°✩Tolkien is a star student. Plays basketball, football, and is in the student council. Has dated Nichole, Wendy, Stan, and Clyde. None of his relationships ever end poorly. Is friendly with everyone. Is arguably the most popular, well liked kid in school.

⋆｡°✩Bebe is bisexual and has dated a few of the girls when off with Clyde. Clyde has no game however and barely dates anyone when they are broken up. She's part of cheerleading, volleyball, and the yearbook club. She's a minor influencer online, focusing on fashion, beauty, feminism, and human rights.

⋆｡°✩Wendy and Kyle constantly compete for valedictorian. She's captain of the debate team, cheerleading squad (Bebe vice captain), and volleyball team (Nichole vice captain). Stan and her have almost consistently dated with some hiccups here and there. They don't break up as often as Clyde and Bebe but when they have, she's dated Tolkien and Bebe briefly. She volunteers in a multitude of different organizations and feels very passionate about every cause she takes up. Has a substantial following on Twitter where she's very vocal about her beliefs.

#south park #south park fanfiction #south park headcanons #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #kyman #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #leopold butters stotch #butters stotch #butters leopold stotch #wendy testaburger #stendy #bebe stevens #clyde donovan #clybe #be nice to me #drowned in the lily pond rip #bunny

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technofeudalism · 21 hours ago

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i made a long post about how traditional media coalescing around Trump is scarier than social media for me and i included some news/media sources i recommend at the bottom. here they are (plus some additions) in a shorter post so that it is easier to share.

the objective is to build a network of local, national and global sources that you can count on. preferably completely independent and free from editorial or corporate oversight.

note: all media is flawed, including the ones below. never rely on one source. do not immediately accept something as the truth from any single source. everyone is capable of accidentally getting a detail wrong, or even deliberately misleading. the fact is that even reading something as inflammatory as Fox News can give you information you wouldn't be able to get anywhere else, the key is not to take any of it at face value.

Dropsite News - ran by Ryan Grim, Jeremy Scahill

The Intercept - sadly running out of money, alleged CIA ties

Democracy Now! - more center-left, better domestically

Jacobin - wide variety, sometimes shitty takes, Alex Press is great

The Grayzone - this one is controversial (mainly just to liberals) and they make no qualms about being committed to reporting from an anti-imperialist view of the world

Black Agenda Report - perspective from Black leftists. founded by Glen Ford (RIP), a Black Panther and accomplished investigative journalist

Hasan Piker - hate him, love him, neutral, doesn't matter. he's the largest independent political commentator on the left (by far), covering news and misinformation 9 hours a day. you can think he has shit takes, but he's still a reliable source and has been insanely accurate with his opinions

The Majority Report - been around forever, Sam Seder & Emma Vigeland are amazing, once home to the incredible Michael Jamal Brooks (RIP)

International Viewpoint - monthly English-language magazine of the Fourth International

Left Voice - socialist news site and magazine

It's Going Down - news, opinion, podcasts and reporting from an anarchist viewpoint

Sludge - investigative journalism on lobbying and money in politics

Socialist Alternative - democratic socialist news organization.

Socialist Project - Toronto-based organisation that supports the rebuilding of the socialist Left in Canada

The Progressive - leftist magazine operating since 1909

Truthdig - independent source for original reporting from a progressive viewpoint

Workers World - marxist news organization run by Workers World Party

Breakthrough News - untold stories of resistance from poor and working-class communities

Labor Notes - media and organizing project amplifying union activism

Ben Norton @ Global Political Economy

Erin Reed

Caitlin Johnstone (AUS)

do not rely on "media bias" sources like Ground News. they are part of the problem with making false equivalencies between left and right. this insightful blog post published a few days ago proves my point: "The data collected here shows that left-leaning stories tend to have far better sourcing than right-leaning ones, and are less politically polarized. The process for selecting, grouping, and summarizing these stories does not seem to take these differences into account, and there is little transparency into how that process works. This leads the platform to publish dodgy stories from the right, with the appearance that they are just as valid as high-fact reporting from the left or the center."

#media #resources #us media #us news #journalism #censorship #socialism #anarchism #anti capitalism

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multifandomwriter126 · 1 day ago

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Jealousy||Liam Mairi x fem!reader

Smut p in v

Not edited so this probably sucks ass💀

I did post this on my old account that got deleted a while back

“Have you ever thought about telling them how you feel instead of, you know, telling us about it?" Violet said from beside you as if it was obvious. The two of you had stopped your training to ogle at her boyfriend Xaden and his best friend Liam.

“ Um, no, because I don’t want to embarrass myself and I’d rather fangirl over him from a distance.” You countered sarcastically, wincing as Xaden landed a blow to Liam’s ribs.

"That has to hurt," you thought to yourself.

"I’m not sure he’d take me seriously anyway,” you added as Liam stumbled backward, catching himself before falling off the ledge.

Violet rolled her eyes at you. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, “You’re beautiful, smart, and fiercely intelligent.” Her words were sweet, but you couldn’t push away the negative thoughts.

"Yeah, well, he’d probably find me annoying. Besides, even if he does like me, I doubt he’d ever make a move.”

Violet sighed, shaking her head. "You shouldn’t speak so negatively about yourself," she scolded. "Xaden sees how great you are, and so does Liam."

Your heart skipped a beat as butterflies fluttered within you. "Wait, your grumpy hater of a boyfriend thinks I’m amazing?" you asked, not daring to get your hopes up.

Violet chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, he does," she confirmed. "He’s always been observant, even when you don’t think he is. And he notices how sweet and good you are for Liam."

Your cheeks flushed at her words. It was one thing for Xaden to think positively of you, but Liam too? The feelings within you grew stronger by the second.

Your heart began racing, but you tried your best to act indifferent at the suggestion. "yeah, and how am I supposed to do that?" you asked, your voice rising a few octaves.

Violet smirked. "There’s always the direct approach," she suggested. “Or," she continued, her smile growing wider, "I have an even better idea." You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh, yeah?" You inquired, not knowing if you should trust her. "And what might that be?"

She leaned in closer, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Why don’t you and I make him jealous?" Your heart skipped a beat. Making Liam jealous sounded like a dangerous game. “What do you mean?” you asked a mix of excitement and worry coursing through you.

“Well,” Violet explained, “If Liam sees you with other guys, he might realize what he’s been missing and finally make a move.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should go along with her plan. “But what if that just drives him further away?” you voiced your concern, “I don’t want to lose his friendship completely.”

Violet put her hand on your shoulder, reassuring you. “Trust me, you won’t. Men are competitive by nature. If he sees you giving attention to someone else, it’ll ignite something within him.”

You thought it over for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” you conceded, “But if this blows up in my face, you’re the one responsible.”

Violet grinned triumphantly and patted your back. “Don’t worry, everything will go according to plan.”

Over the next few days, you found yourself spending more time with other male cadets. You sat with them during meals, trained with them, and even laughed at their jokes.

Every time Liam was around, you could feel his gaze on you, but you acted as if you didn't notice.

Each time you smiled or laughed with another guy, you could see the flicker of jealousy in Liam’s eyes, just like Violet said.

One night at dinner, you sat with a group of male cadets. They all seemed nice enough, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of Liam’s steely glare from across the room.

As you continued to chat with them, you felt a presence behind you, and a shadow loomed over the table. You turned around to find Liam standing there, the muscles in his jaw clenched. The table grew silent as everyone waited to see what would happen next. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure, but your heart was racing.

Liam leaned down, his face just inches away from your ear. "Can I talk to you?" he asked, his voice gruff. You nodded hesitantly, feeling the intense gaze of everyone at the table.

Liam took your hand and led you away from the group, away from the curious gazes and hushed whispers. He didn't stop walking until he'd taken you far enough away from the others, to a quiet corner of the dining room where you were alone.

Finally, he let go of your hand and turned to face you, his expression serious. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked bluntly.

You feigned innocence, even though deep down you knew exactly what he was talking about. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even. Liam scoffed and stepped forward, closing the distance between you. "Don’t play coy with me," he said, his voice low. "You've been spending all your time with random guys, laughing and joking with them." You clenched your hands into fists, the mix of emotions inside you growing overwhelming. "And if I have?” you asked, trying to sound defiant. "It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything.”

A flash of hurt crossed Liam's face, but he quickly hid it behind his usual stoic expression. "You're right, I'm not your boyfriend," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But that doesn’t mean I like seeing you with other guys." Your heart skipped a beat at his words. So Violet was right, Liam was jealous.

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Part of you wanted to tell him the truth, that it was all a ploy to make him jealous, but then again, what if he didn’t believe you? What if he thought you were just playing games? As the silence stretched between the two of you, Liam ran a hand through his messy hair, his frustration evident. "Why are you suddenly spending so much time with other guys anyway?" he asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question. You couldn't tell him the truth, not yet. So, you said the first thing that came to mind. "I just wanted some male attention, I guess," you replied nonchalantly, even though your heart was pounding. Liam's gaze darkened at your words, his jaw tightening. "Male attention, huh?" he repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "And you couldn't get that from me? You had to go to every other guy?"

You winced at the hurt in his voice, hating that you were causing him pain. But you couldn't back down now. "Yeah, well, it's not like you've ever shown any interest in me," you retorted, "At least the other guys give me attention."

Liam’s eyes narrowed, the hurt in his gaze replaced by anger. "Are you serious right now?" he asked, taking a step forward. "You think I haven't shown any interest in you? Maybe I was just trying to be respectful, not wanting to overstep my bounds." You swallowed hard, the guilt building inside of you. You knew he had a point, but you couldn’t back down now. "How was I supposed to know that?” you challenged. "You never say anything, you keep to yourself all the time. I thought you didn't care."

Liam gritted his teeth. "Just because I'm not always the most outspoken guy doesn't mean I don't care," he snapped. "I care more than you think. But seeing you with all these other guys has been... torture, for lack of better words."

You faltered, the hurt in his voice finally cracking your resolve. You didn't want to hurt him, that was the last thing you wanted.

"So, you… you do care about me?" you asked timidly, barely above a whisper. Liam let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "Of course, I care about you, you idiot," he snapped. "More than you could ever imagine."

Your heart leaped at his words, a feeling of both relief and confusion washing over you. "Then why didn't you say something sooner?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of irritation. Liam's shoulders slumped, the anger leaving him. "Because I didn't think you felt the same way," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I didn't want to risk losing your friendship if things went sour."

Your heart ached at his confession. You were both such idiots, dancing around each other for so long.

"Liam," you said softly, stepping closer to him. "I've been spending time with other guys because I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to see if you cared.”

Liam's eyes widened in surprise. "You... you did that on purpose?" he asked, his voice a mixture of shock and resignation. You nodded, feeling a sense of relief now that the truth was out. "I know it was a dumb move," you admitted, "but I didn't know how else to get your attention. I was tired of waiting for you to make a move if you ever would at all."

Liam let out a huff of frustration. "You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?" he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

He stepped closer to you, his eyes locked on yours. "If you wanted my attention, you could have just asked." Your heart fluttered as he closed the gap between you. "Yeah, well, you could have said something too," you retorted, not wanting to give up your stance completely.

Liam chuckled, his expression softening. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “But I guess we were both too stubborn to admit how we felt.” You smiled, feeling the tension between the two of you ease.

"So… does this mean you’re not mad at me for being an idiot?" you asked, half joking, half serious. Liam chuckled and shook his head. "I am mad at you," he said, feigning annoyance. "But I guess I can understand why you did what you did.”

He paused for a moment, his expression turning serious. “But I do have one question I’m dying to ask you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? What’s that?” you asked, trying not to show how nervous you were. Liam stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He looked down at you, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of desire and vulnerability.

"I just want to know one thing," he said, his voice low. "Do you have feelings for me? Honest answer, no games." A wave of emotion washed over you as you stared into his intense gaze. You took a deep breath, letting the facade fall away completely.

"Yes," you said without hesitation. "I have feelings for you. Strong ones. I have for a long time." Relief and joy washed over his face. He reached out to touch your face, his hand cradling your cheek. "Good," he whispered, his thumb tracing patterns on your skin. "Because I have feelings for you too. Stronger than you can even imagine." You shivered at his touch, feeling a rush of electricity course through you. "So, what do we do now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are we… Are we together now?" Liam smiled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah," he said, his voice confident. "We're together now. It's about damn time if you ask me." He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours. "May I?" he asked, his breath warm on your skin.

You nodded, your heart racing in anticipation. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice almost a whisper.

Liam didn’t need any more encouragement. He closed the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. The world seemed to fall away as you melted into the kiss, the sensation of his lips on yours setting your soul on fire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel as much of him as you could.

Liam's hands moved to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips. He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth. You granted his silent request, opening your mouth to him. Your bodies pressed against each other, the heat and hunger of the moment taking over completely.

Liam pressed you against the wall, his body trapping you most delightfully. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You let out a gasp, feeling a wave of pleasure coursing through you as Liam continued his assault on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close, needing more of him.

He continued to kiss and nip at your skin, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch. You felt his body pressed against yours, the hard planes of his muscles molding to your curves. Liam's lips returned to yours, his kisses becoming more urgent, more demanding. You met his kisses with equal fervor, your desire for him growing with every passing second.

You felt his hands move under your shirt, his palms exploring your skin with a desperate touch. You shivered at the sensation, arching your back, and letting out a soft moan. Liam grinned into the kiss, his hands splaying across your stomach, sending a shiver through you. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

He pushed your shirt up, his hands roaming over your bare skin, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touched. You gasped, your body arching into his touch. You wanted, needed more of him. You tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against yours.

Liam understood your silent request, breaking the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head. The sight of his bare chest, the muscles rippling under his skin, made your breath hitch. You reached out, your hands tracing over the ridges of his abs, feeling the heat radiating off of him. Liam let out a small gasp as your fingers explored his body, and he captured your lips in another fiery kiss.

His hands moved back under your shirt, slowly inching it higher and higher up your torso. You broke the kiss, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside, not wanting any barriers between you. Liam's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your now-bare skin.

He stepped closer, his body pressed against yours again, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you flush against him. You shivered at the feeling of his skin on yours, the heat from his body seeping into you. You ran your hands over his broad shoulders, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch.

Liam's lips found their way back to your neck, his kisses becoming more insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin. His hand moved to your hip, holding you close to him as he continued his assault on your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling his lips and teeth graze your collarbone.

A moan escaped your lips as his other hand moved to your lower back, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through you. Liam's mouth moved to your ear, and his breath was hot as he whispered, "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

He nipped at your ear, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. You shivered, feeling a wave of heat wash over you, pooling in your core. You grabbed his hips, pulling him closer, wanting to feel more of him against you. You were lost in the sensations he was stirring in you, your mind a haze of pleasure and desire.

Liam's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you, claiming you as his. His body pressed you harder against the wall, his hardness against your thigh making you gasp. You couldn't take it any longer. You needed more, you needed him. You reached down, your fingers seeking the button on his jeans.

Liam pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes clouded with lust. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough and ragged. You nodded, your body quivering with need. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Liam."

Liam didn't need any more encouragement. He crushed his lips to yours, his kisses searing your skin as his hands fumbled with the button of his jeans. You helped him with the button, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation. You pushed the jeans down his hips, reveling in the feel of his body pressed against yours.

He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips. Your back was against the wall, and he held you there with ease.

You could feel his hardness pressing against you, the need in his eyes matching your own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he continued to claim your mouth in a frenzied kiss.

Liam stepped out of the jeans, his hands roaming over your body once more, leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched. "I want you," he growled against your lips, his voice guttural with need. "I need you."

He shifted his hips, aligning himself with your core. You gasped as his hardness brushed against your sensitive flesh, Your body arched into him, your mind a haze of pleasure and desire. You wanted, no, needed him inside you, wanted to feel him completely.

Liam groaned as your body pressed against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. You could only nod in response, your body tingling with anticipation. "Please," you breathed, your voice shaky with need. "Please, Liam. I need you."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He shifted his hips, positioning himself at your entrance, his tip teasingly pushing against your core. He held you there for a moment, savoring the feeling of having you so close, so close to where he wanted you most.

Then, with one smooth motion, he entered you, filling you. A cry escaped your lips as he stretched and filled you, your body arching into him.

Liam groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "God," he gasped, his voice ragged. "You feel so Good, so good."

He began to move, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust drawing a moan from your lips. You held onto him tightly, your body molded to his, feeling the heat and energy building between you.

Liam's mouth found yours again, his kiss consuming you, his tongue delving into your mouth. "You're mine," he whispered against your lips. "You're mine, and only mine." You could only nod in agreement, your body lost in the sensations he was stirring in you. Every thrust, every touch, every kiss sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building and building to a crest you knew was approaching.

Liam's pace quickened, his hips moving more urgently against yours. His hands held you there against the wall, his touch possessive, his need for you overwhelming.

You were both lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations and emotions that were building between you. You felt yourself climbing higher and higher, teetering on the edge of release. Liam was close too, his breaths ragged, his body tensing, his grip on you tight, almost bruising.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and feral. "I'm close," he gasped, his voice strained. "Are you with me, baby?" You nodded your body on the verge of collapse. "Yes," you managed to breathe, your voice wavering. "Yes, I'm close. Please, Liam, don't stop."

Liam didn't stop. He kept his pace, his thrusts deep and powerful as you both approached the edge, the pleasure building and building, Liam's kiss became more urgent, more demanding. His hands gripped you tighter, holding you there as he drove you higher and higher. And then, with a cry, you fell over the edge. Your body convulsed as the release washed over you, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you Liam followed you into bliss with a deep, guttural groan. His body tensed his grip on you nearly bruising as he found his release.

You both stayed there for a moment, catching your breaths, trying to come back down from the high. Liam's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "That was…" he panted, his voice trailing off, unable to find the words. "That was... incredible." You could only nod in agreement, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body. You leaned your forehead against his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your skin.

Liam wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against him, his body still shaking slightly from the intensity of the moment. "You're amazing," he murmured, his lips against your hair. "Amazing." You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the pleasure you'd just experienced. You felt safe, cared for, treasured.

"You're not so bad yourself," you teased, looking up at him with a smile. Liam chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. He looked down at you, his eyes soft, his usual cockiness replaced with something gentler, something more vulnerable.

"I think I may have just found my new favorite activity," he said, his lips curving into a lazy grin. "Oh, shut up," you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn't hide your smile.

Liam chuckled again, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs tracing patterns on your cheeks. "In all seriousness, though," he said, his voice quiet, "that was incredible."

"Agreed," you said, your voice soft. You leaned into his touch, relishing the feeling of his hands on you.

"But," you added, a mischievous gleam in your eye, "we should probably move from the wall before my legs give out entirely." Liam laughed and nodded. He scooped you up easily, carrying you over to the bed and gently laying you down.

He crawled onto the bed, flopping down beside you, his body pressed against yours. "That's much better," he said, slinging an arm around your waist. You both lay there in silence for a moment, the sound of your breathing the only noise in the room. You turned onto your side, curling into him, your head nestled against his chest.

Liam's arms encircled you, pulling you close, his chin resting on top of your head. "I can't believe this is real," he murmured, his voice a whisper.

You could feel the steady thump of his heart under your ear, the rhythm soothing and reassuring. "It is," you replied, your voice just as soft. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." "Good," Liam said, pulling you even closer. "Because you're mine now."

His words were possessive, but there was no denying the tenderness in his voice, the vulnerability behind the bravado. You smiled, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You were happy, yes, but there was also a hint of anxiety, a worry that this newfound happiness was too good to be true.

But as you lay there, wrapped in Liam's arms, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath your ear, you knew that you wanted this, wanted him, more than anything.

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