#but with how things are I'm not sure if they should

[nolshru]

while judicial review is expensive and slow, it won't happen unless people take these issues to court

that said, I'm not American, so not sure how things like the corrupt court system interact with that, but yeah, the tool exists for a good reason, and the courts should know that people are watching what their decision is

"He can't do that!"

"That's illegal!"

"He is violating the constitution!"

Then fucking stop him! Arrest him, throw Musk out, bar them from entering when they try to access shit.

Because guess fucking what, laws only have meaning when they are enforced. They only matter when someone fucking does something about it.

[homunculus-argument]

Do you have any advice for a scared and VERY behind-on-learning-adult-things 20-year-old who's trying really damn hard and yet nothing ever seems to be working?

You're not behind, you've just been spending your time learning things and skills that everyone else hasn't needed to learn. There's no deadline on learning adult skills, all the rules are made up even though you know you're still expected to know and follow them.

One thing you should know is that it's not against the rules to be scared or admit that you don't know things. The people who taught you otherwise were wrong. It's better to just tell people "I'm sorry, I have no idea how these things are supposed to be done, and I'm a bit scared" than to try to manage on your own. People are more likely to be kind and understanding if they can see that you're trying, and just not sure what you're supposed to do, than if they see you just be incompetent for no apparent reason.

And if you have no idea where you should go, any direction except down counts as going forward. Keep trying things, different things, same things from different angles, even things you don't think would work or should work, but don't commit to anything permanent that you can't wiggle away from. Don't sign contracts that bind you for more than 10 years and don't have kids, before you know 100% what you really want. You know that you know for sure when you don't have to ask "how do I know if I know for sure?"

Anything that's not destructive counts as doing something constructive. Just keep trying shit, just pushing random buttons until something works. Something's going to click eventually.

[archangeldyke-all]

Can we get an update on paramedic sev?? I thought it was such a cute story

ehhehe sure!!

men and minors dni

when your coworker bumps into and spills an entire pot of piping hot coffee on you, the pain is so sudden and shocking that you don't really register what happens next.

your coworkers swarm you with concerned expressions. you blink. your boss worriedly guides you to sit down, gasping at the blisters already bubbling up in your skin. you sniff. somebody starts helping you out of your hot, soaked clothes. your stomach lurches.

"we should call an ambulance."

well... that'll clear you of your pain fog

"no!" you shout. your coworkers blink at you. "no ambulance!"

under absolutely no circumstances can an ambulance be called. sevika is working right now, and if she gets a call from this address she'll panic. and you don't want her to worry. plus, you probably look gross right now. actually, now that your mind's working again, you're feeling pretty gross.

your boss gives you a horrified look. "no, no, honey, you really need an ambu--"

it's the last thing you hear before you pass out.

----

"baby? you okay?" you groan and blink awake. sevika's wincing down at you. "you got burned real bad on your arms. luckily your clothes kept the rest of ya from too much damage. we're on our way to the hospital."

"oh no." you huff. sevika blinks.

"don't worry, love. they're gonna fix you up real nice. i'm gonna stick by your side the whole time, we'll get you home in no time--"

"no not that." you huff. sevika must've hooked you up to something, because you can barely feel the stinging in your arm. and you feel just a little tipsy. "i didn't-- ugh i told them not to call you guys." you whine.

"what!? why the fuck not?" sevika asks. you shrug, giggling at her glare.

"didn't wanna worry you. knew you'd shit yourself if you got the call."

ran cackles from the driver's seat. "she hit a hundred miles an hour on the way over." they shout. you snort, then glare up at sevika.

"that's not safe, sev." you huff.

she rolls her eyes. "and what's safe about taking a bath in fresh brewed coffee pot?"

you giggle. "okay. we both messed up today. but tomorrow, we'll both be safe, right?" you ask.

sevika snorts and kisses your forehead. "you're cute on morphine."

"ran, promise me you won't let her drive the rig again!" you call, glaring at sevika for the way she dodges your question.

"yes ma'am!" ran shouts from the front seat.

sevika rolls her eyes, rubs a thumb against your cheekbone. you sigh and nuzzle her hand. "we've gotta stop meeting like this." you whisper. sevika grins.

"last time i got a girlfriend outta your accident, what do i get this time?"

"mmm... i'll let you try to knock me up?" you offer. sevika sputters, the ambulance hits a curb, and ran starts to spew curses in what you're pretty sure is a dead language. you cackle.

"how much morphine did you give her?!" ran squeaks. sevika reaches out to start fiddling with one of the bags hanging over your head. you just reach up to fondle her biceps as she works.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

[for-a-longlongtime]

To all the fans in the Pedro fandom who feel like they don't belong

I see you. We see you. You have a place here among all of us, and we want you to be here - we really do.

No, this isn't a Kumbaya post, I'm fuckin' for real.

To all the writers...

... who receive racist messages, death threats, are being told their reader insert isn't good enough, that this and this character wouldn't be with someone who looks and sounds like you, that you're not using the right words or that you misspelled something --

I am so fucking sorry people had the fuckin' gall to direct that hate at you, because you don't deserve it. You share your stories and characters with us, and they are adored and read and celebrated exactly for who they are - not despite of who they are.

To everybody who lurks, reads, but doesn't feel like they can participate...

... who see how their skin tone, language, identity, gender, body type, sexual orientation, culture, type of relationships, and so much more is underrepresented or actively treated with hostility --

I'm so fucking sorry, and I - as many of us - understand completely why you feel that way, because it's absolutely valid. But I promise it's not how the majority of people feel about you. I know that doesn't make up for shit, but I do want you to know that most of us care a lot.

Nobody should stay in an environment where they feel like they're not wanted, or where remarks are made carelessly without regard for how hurtful stereotypes are. But if this has ever happened to you, be it out of ignorance (or at times malice), please know - your presence matters.

To everybody who has ever felt insecure about their kinks or liking smut... ...please don't. Seriously. Your kinks are what they are and they are completely fine. Liking smut is fine. Liking Pedro characters in smutty fic is fine too. Kink exploration in fic should be a safe space and respected.

Don't shame others here, especially not as an anon. Yes, certain topics that writers address in fic may be challenging for you for a number of reasons, but guess what? You don't have to read it! You don't have to dissect *why* someone wrote that! Don't like smutty fic? Cool, so don't wade into fics marked as explicit. Don't like certain kinks? That's cool, just read the warnings and skip fic when it doesn't appeal to you. Sure you're entitled to your own opinions, but you do not need to air them out in public or trash an author because you didn't like how they wrote something.

To everybody in this fandom...

... especially those of us who are white, able-bodied, straight, cisgender, had formal education, are a native English speaker, and/or many of the other privileges that a lot of us carry in our backpack every day:

We need to do better. Please. For so many reasons.

We need to be aware of our blind spots, biases, the fact that at times everybody fucks up - because we live in a racist, homophobic capitalist patriarchy -, and that occasionally means admitting we were wrong. That we unintentionally said something that was hurtful and that we're sorry for hurting people with our words. That ignorance can slip so easily into words that we type, and that the only way. But own up to it and please don't pull the 'I'm sorry you feel hurt' card - no. Take actual responsibility. Particularly when underrepresented voices explained to you why something is wrong.

And please, call out your friends on things like this - especially if you're white/straight/cis. It's your responsibility to speak up because you're closer to them. White people should be the first to call out racism; it's not up to the people that already are on the receiving end of prejudice (or worse, hatred) to fight that battle.

Exclusion doesn't only happen if you're actively spreading hate - it also happens by not taking accountability for when you fuck up, or when you are erasing and ignoring identities. If the word 'representation' doesn't mean much to you, that's probably because you constantly see yourself reflected in the stories and people in society (that, in itself, is privilege too) - and hey, good for you! But there are many of us who that doesn't apply to in the same measure.

I've had many conversations lately about this with fellow queers as well as brown/black/Latinx folks, so I really wanted to post this. Not as virtue signaling or whatever the hell, but because I know a lot of people are seeing and reading things that are understandably make them reluctant to engage.

So hey, let's do better and look after folks in our community whether we directly engage with them or not. The amount of comments that are always gushing about 'I love how Pedro cares about others/is an ally!' is very disproportionate to seeing similar support expressed for creators and fellow fans. Let's also not forget he's a Chilean man, the son of socialist refugees, who has always actively been on the barricades for LGBTQIA+, rallies against white supremacy and the toxicity of patriarchy -- so if you appreciate his dedication to 'causes', lets apply that to the very real people in this fandom too. And fyi, this isn't just about a single instance or a single person - it's so much bigger than that, and we all know it.

(oh, and if you feel like I'm being a moralist about this - feel free to unfollow or block my ass. You do you! I don't care. I care about the people here who don't want the community harmed by anons who get their kicks from being a bully.)

[queervegancryptid]

I'll never forget working at Walmart and going through orientation where they showed us this video literally encouraging us to snitch on anybody who might be in favor of unionizing.

They were all like, "Unions get in between you and management." And I had to smile and nod, because I needed the job, but all the while, I'm thinking, "Yeah, thanks for explaining what a union is for!" Unions correct a power imbalance between the individual worker and management by leveraging collective action. They're literally supposed to get between you and management to protect your interests and give you recourse in the case of employers violating your rights or otherwise mistreating you.

We met the GM directly after seeing that video. A calculated move on their part, I'm sure. He went out of his way to make himself seem like a "regular guy," just another Good Old Boy, and of course they trotted out the "we're a family here," bullshit.

They'll also do literally anything they can to avoid paying you what you're worth. One day, I accidentally clocked out about an hour late. This put me at something like 40.27 hours for the week. Next thing I know, management is furious with me. Despite only one other person being on the schedule for the shift, they forced me to take a three-hour lunch break to bring my hourly count back safely under the 40-hour threshold. Because otherwise they'd have to give me overtime and benefits.

They didn't fire me. But after that, my total hours for the week never went above 25. They also hired a new person in my department and gave her about 20-25 hours a week. The reason was transparent: better for their bottom line to have two people working 20-25 hours a week than one person who works 40-50 hours a week. I ended up quitting not too long after this. But that's another story.

And all the while, I'm hearing all over the news that "millennials don't want to work." Here I was, begging for more hours or to be trained as a cashier so I could pick up more hours doing shifts on that, and all over the news, people are screaming about how entitled people like me are and how we don't know how to do things and don't want to actually earn a living.

But yeah, the boss is not your friend. You can and should have a cordial and respectful relationship with your boss and coworkers, but they pull the "family," thing for a reason. It's designed to guilt you. Plenty of actual families do this, too: "we're family, so you have to love me, and you have to do/give me x." It's a way to get away with bad behavior, sometimes including outright exploitation and abuse. Don't fall for it.

An incomplete list of things that employers commonly threaten that are 100% illegal in the United States

"We'll fire you if you tell others how much you're making" The National Labor Relations Act of 1935 specifically protects employees who discuss their own wages with each other (you can't reveal someone else's wages if you were given that information in the course of work, but you can always discuss your own or any that were revealed to you outside of work duties)

"If we can't fire you for [discussing wages/seeking reasonable accommodation/filing a discrimination complaint/etc], we'll just fire you for something else the next day." This is called pretextual termination, and it offers your employer almost no protection; if you are terminated shortly after taking a protected action such as wage discussion, complaints to regulatory agencies, or seeking a reasonable accommodation, you can force the burden onto your employer to prove that the termination wasn't retaliatory.

"Disparaging the company on social media is grounds for termination" Your right to discuss workplace conditions, compensation, and collective action carries over to online spaces, even public ones. If your employer says you aren't allowed to disparage the company online or discuss it at all, their social media policy is illegal. However, they can forbid releasing information that they're obligated to keep confidential such as personnel records, business plans, and customer information, so exercise care.

"If you unionize, we'll just shut this branch down and lay everyone off" Threatening to take action against a group that unionizes is illegal, full stop. If a company were to actually shut down a branch for unionizing, they would be fined very heavily by the NLRB and be opening themselves up to a class-action lawsuit by the former employees.

"We can have any rule we want, it's only illegal if we actually enforce it" Any workplace policy or rule that has a "chilling effect" on employees' willingness to exercise their rights is illegal, even if the employer never follows through on any of their threats.

"If you [protected action], we'll make sure you never work in this industry/city/etc again." Blacklisting of any kind is illegal in half the states in the US, and deliberately sabotaging someone's job search in retaliation for a protected action is illegal everywhere in the US.

"Step out of line and you can kiss your retirement fund/last paycheck goodbye." Your employer can never refuse to give you your paycheck, even if you've been fired. Nor can they keep money that you invested in a retirement savings account, and they can only claw back the money they invested in the retirement account under very specific circumstances.

"We'll deny that you ever worked here" not actually possible unless they haven't been paying their share of employment taxes or forwarding your withheld tax to the government (in which case they're guilty of far more serious crimes, and you might stand to gain something by turning them in to the IRS.) The records of your employment exist in state and federal tax data, and short of a heist that would put Oceans 11 to shame, there's nothing they can do about that.

[knight--error]

One of my favorite bits in Wheel of Time which I'm sure plenty of people hated (a thing you could say about almost any aspect of the series) is how each of the main three Two Rivers guys have love lives that often fail to even walk the line between hilarious and horrifying, let alone be functional and healthy; but every time they're doing really poorly, each one thinks, independently, "Man, I bet [one of the other Two Rivers guys] would know exactly what to do. He's so good with women." And then you mentally smash cut to that other guy, who is having a somehow worse time, even though that should be impossible.

[seungcheorry]

seokmin isn't that petty or childish. he knows you two have a full adult, functional life and that sometimes things get in between. he can fully understand that.

still, he can't help the pout that's on his lips or how he's frowning or how his arms are crossed, making him look like a toddler.

"i mean...", he says for the nth time. "it could be just a few hours, you know?"

you sigh, adjusting your phone so he can see you clearly. "i know, babe. but i really, really can't. i'm sorry. i promise i'm all yours this weekend."

"but my birthday is tomorrow, not on the weekend", he rolls his eyes, sighing too.

truth be told, seokmin doesn't know why he's so upset about not being able to see you on his birthday. sure, it sucks to not see someone you love and care so deeply, such as your partner, on such an important day - but again, he gets that you have to work. he understands that you can't just move your schedule around; hell, not even him can do it.

but it sucks. it just sucks and he can't help it.

"i'm sorryyyy", you say once again, slightly smiling at his sad face. "you're not even in korea right now, i don't know why you're doing this."

"ya, i'll be there tomorrow morning!", seokmin points a finger at you, holding back his laugh. "YOU could just come and see me at the airport, i can get my manager to sneak you in somehow, and then you can go to your office."

"my boss asked me to come in earlier tomorrow", you shrug.

"okay, so...", he thinks for a bit. "i can go meet you up so we can have lunch together."

"i've packed my lunch already."

"pack one for me too."

"there's not enough food", you shake your head.

seokmin groans. "okay, now you're just being mean. why don't you want to see me~?"

you fake cry, staring up at the ceiling, ready to punch your phone.

"babe, i told you, i'll just be busy..."

"nah, i did something, didn't i? you hate me!"

"i don't hate you, seokmin, i just-"

"then let's at least have dinner tomorrow night, you know mingyu and joshua wouldn't mind you coming."

"SEOKMIN!", you almost scream, making him shut up. "please stop finding a way for us to see each other tomorrow, don't make me tell you i've been planning a surprise party for you since christmas, a party you won't have if you keep annoying me."

and, just like a toddler, his eyes light up.

"oh my god, you did not!", he squeals like a little girl, his eyes and smile wide as they could be. "for real? like, are you really for real right now?"

when you nod, seokmin kicks his feet in the air, throwing his head back.

"baby, you didn't have to! oh my god, i've never had a surprise party before, should i act surprised? should i prank everyone and pretend to pass out? what are you gonna wear? we could match and-"

and so he goes, excited like a toddler - not like a guy who's about to turn 28 years old.

a/n: happy birthday to the light of my life, mr. lee seokmin. may you always he happy, always have this smile of yours, always feel loved and adored. thank you for making me smile and laugh, it means so much to me and my healing heart. i love you, dokyeomie. ❤️🍒

[heavyhitterheaux]

40-22

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: You and your husband watch the Super Bowl along with your best friends in NOLA

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Seeing as Joe was doing a press run the week leading up to the Super Bowl in New Orleans, you decided that the two of you should have a party for it at your new house that Joe had surprised you with as a Christmas gift. A party that would literally only be your best friends, but still a party nonetheless. He had noticed that you were missing being in Louisiana more than usual and it had actually been in the works for him to buy it since the beginning of last year.

In order to get your input without actually telling you about it, he would show you different pictures that the designer was sending Joe and as soon as you had given him the approval, everything was a go.

This was your first time actually seeing the house in person and you immediately fell in love. There was a hallway leading to what would be considered the man cave of the house and the walls were decorated with pictures of both you and Joe at your time at LSU. Seeing this definitely made a few tears slip out that you of course blamed on your hormones being all over the place.

Ja'Marr and Justin of course wanted to see the house and essentially invited themselves over, even though they were going to be invited anyway. You had sent a quick text to Erin and Alisha to see if they were free and they of course said yes to be able to spend time with you.

Joe told you that he could order food so that the two of you didn't have to cook and he didn't want you to be on your feet for a long period of time.

Of course he was met with resistance from you since cooking was one of your many love languages the last thing he wanted was an argument to come out of it. He knew once you made up your mind about something that it was the end of the conversation. But if it was something that he was dead set on not letting go, he had no problem letting you know how he felt. But for now, he would just help you with what you decided to make and make sure you got breaks in between.

As you were making your famous chili cheese dip that you knew was going to go in less than ten minutes, Joe had just finished seasoning the wings and was about to put them in the oven.

He had come up behind you and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on top of your head.

“You okay? And are my other two babies okay?” He asked and you nodded your head.

“Yes, babe. I told you that I'm fine. And they're fine too.” You replied and gave him a small smile before he gently moved you to the side to open the oven.

“As soon as we're done, you need to sit down and put your feet up so they don't swell.”

“Yes, Doctor Burrow.”

“Princess, I'm serious.”

“I know, I know and I promise I will. Just have one more thing to make and then I'll sit.” You replied as you reached up to kiss him.

“What else do you need help with so I can make this go faster?”

“They’re just cheesesteak sliders, but if you can start cutting up everything that would be helpful.”

“On it.”

When all of the food was done, Justin was already in the kitchen so you told him to come and get his plate so that way you could sit down yourself.

“Justin, it’s hot on the bottom, take the sides of it.” You told him as he was reaching for it.

“Uh huh.” He replied as he was still looking at the television and not at you.

“Don't touch the bottom. It's hot, move your hand away from it.”

Justin once again nodded and you decided since he wasn’t going to listen to just let him learn the hard way.

“Ow! DAMN, THAT’S HOT.”

“I know and I told your stupid ass two times not to touch the bottom, but you were so interested in looking at the TV instead. And you better not break my damn plate either.”

“Joe! Your wife was nicer before you got her pregnant!” Justin yelled towards him and Joe looked at him confused.

“Says who!?” Ja’Marr asked as he immediately chimed in and you gave them both a death glare.

“No, Justin, you just like to do stupid shit.” Joe shot back and Ja'Marr stifled a laugh.

“Next time I'm not cooking shit for yall. I can't even see my damn feet and they're probably swollen and I'm stressed because I'll have to probably call 911 messing with both of you. Justin, take this plate and get out my face. IMMEDIATELY.”

“But we didn't ask you to cook since I…”

“Ja’Marr keep talking and I'm going to make sure the next time I cook for you will be at your funeral.”

Ja’Marr immediately threw his hands up in defense as you went to sit down while everyone fixed their plate.

“Damn that food is about to be good as shit. Baby, can I request meatballs?” Joe asked you and you stifled a laugh.

“SERIOUSLY?” Ja’Marr asked Joe as he shrugged.

“No, Joe you got it backwards. It's funeral chicken and baby shower meatballs.” Erin told him while laughing and Ja’Marr made a face at her.

“Not you encouraging his nonsense….”

“Well Erin come through with the meatballs for our baby shower.” Joe told her and she quickly agreed.

“All you had to do was say the word. Consider it done.”

“So, no one is going to mention how my twin is planning my funeral?” Ja’Marr asked the entire room and everyone gave him a blank stare.

“No.” Everyone replied and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“She’s older and she's pregnant? Yeah, not getting into that one.”

“Some friends yall are.”

The game was just starting and Joe told you to sit down while he fixed your plate for you. He made sure you were comfortable with your multiple pregnancy pillows and put your feet up for you.

“The Eagles have one damn job and if they don't come through, I will RIOT.” Alisha said as she sat to the left of you while Erin was on your right.

“You and me both.” You told her as you turned up the volume.

It was during the second quarter when you suddenly got bored. The Chiefs were playing like they had never seen a football before in their lives and you honestly couldn't believe what you were seeing.

“Are they really serious right now?” Justin said out loud and in disbelief.

“Apparently they are.”

“I told yall that they aren't as good as everyone thinks they are. Because they are playing like straight ass.” Alisha added and everyone couldn't help but to laugh.

“Jalen is cute.” Erin said and you gave her a small smirk.

“AHT! Princess, wipe that smirk off your face!” Joe said and you held your hands up in defense.

“But I…”

“Nope, don't even try it. I saw it.”

“I only have eyes for you and you know that! Last time I checked I am pregnant with YOUR children."

"Mm hmm. Sure."

"Such a big ass baby." You quietly said, but he still heard you.

"Want to repeat that Mrs. Burrow?"

"Nope, I'm good." You replied while taking a sip of your lemonade while both Erin and Alisha laughed.

“As I was saying before, Joe rudely interrupted. Have you seen the entire team!? It's a TRAIN. And I wouldn't get off until I had a taste of the entire roster.” Alisha exclaimed, and you couldn't help but to laugh.

"Alisha, I heard that." Joe said, and she held her hands up and acted as if she didn't know what he was talking about.

“You know that there's 52 people on the roster, right?” You asked her and she immediately nodded her head.

“Like I said before, it's a train.”

Joe was on his second plate of food and focused on the game when you decided to send him a text.

Wifey- Baby, I'm bored.

Joey- You don't want to watch the game?

Wifey- Yes, but at this point I want it to be halftime. But in the meantime could you do something for me?

Joey- Of course baby. What do you need?

Wifey- For you to put your dick inside me

As soon as Joe read the text, his eyes went wide and he glanced at you with a smirk on his face as he bit his lip.

Joey- We have seven minutes until halftime

Wifey- I'm not missing Kendrick so we have to do it now

Joey- Go upstairs and I need to teach you a lesson for having a smirk on your face about that quarterback who ISN’T me

Wifey- So dramatic as usual. Just like a Sagittarius. Smh.

Joey- Just you wait until I get you alone

Once you got up, Joe was following your lead and Ja’Marr suddenly made a face at both of you.

“Where yall going?”

"Just going to the bathroom." You told him, but looked at you confused.

"And taking your husband with you?"

"Look Ja’Marr! My whole body is swollen and I can't see past my boobs!" You exclaimed as you crossed your arms and continued walking towards the stars as Joe stifled a laugh.

“Those things are going to be Z cups by the time the twins get here.” Alisha said without hesitation.

"So, you don't know where your vagina is located anymore?"

“Ja'Marr, if your twin wants to get her cheeks clapped by her husband who has clearly done it multiple times before since she's pregnant, that's her business. That's obviously where they're going.” Erin told him and he made a gagging noise.

"Bam Bam, keep talking and I will choke you.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

"Unless you're volunteering to wipe my ass, baby brother. By all means, come on.”

“NO! I'm good!”

“That's what I thought and that's why you need to mind your damn business.”

“You're my twin so you are my business.”

By this time, you had reached the top step and rolled your eyes before you responded to him.

“Leave me alone, Ja'Marr!”

“Never going to happen!”

As you entered your bedroom, you were attempting to walk towards the bed before Joe tugged your arm in another direction.

“If I take you on the bed, you know for a fact we'll be up here for the rest of the game and you are entirely too loud. No offense, princess.”

“Hmm, good point. Bathroom it is. And if Ja’Marr would have minded his business we would have been up here sooner! We have like 4 minutes now.”

“Then stop talking and let me take care of my wife.” Joe told you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

As you were coming down the steps, Erin was grinning and wiggling her eyebrows at you and you instantly laughed at her.

“Nasty ass fuckers. Couldn't have even waited until we left.”

“I seriously went to the bathroom, dumbass!” You replied as you took your rightful seat in between your best friends just in time to see Kendrick come on the screen when Alisha leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“I know that white boy be turning you every way but loose.”

You tried so hard to keep a straight face but failed miserably as Ja'Marr shot you a look.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“You'll never learn, will you?” You asked and he shrugged his shoulders before turning back to the TV.

“Probably not. You know I'm nosey.”

“And no lie was told.”

It was now the third quarter when the Chiefs finally decided to score, which clearly still left everyone unimpressed.

“See that's what they asses get for making sure we didn't make it in the playoffs.” Ja’Marr muttered to your husband who quickly agreed with him.

“Look, I'm just happy that I don't have to look at Taylor Swift for four quarters.” Erin confessed with Alisha letting out a laugh.

“And her boyfriend has done absolutely nothing this entire game.” You added before getting up and sitting on Joe's lap.

You sat to the side so that you could put your head on his shoulder and your feet in Ja’Marr's lap who quickly protested.

“Why are these things on me?”

“So they don't swell. Help a pregnant lady out. And besides I fed you and you're in my house. And I just got a pedicure so leave me alone!”

“She has a point.” Joe said and he crossed his arms in response.

“My going rate for babysitting those two when they get here is 50 dollars. EACH.”

“BULLSHIT. We watch baby uno for FREE.” Joe exclaimed in response.

“Because he's a low maintenance baby! Yall kids are about to be spoiled as hell with big ass heads that look like Joe. That last sonogram picture was wild. Count on having a c-section.”

“HEY! MY HEAD IS NOT THAT BIG!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Shiesty.” Justin muttered and it took everything in you not to laugh. You turned away from Joe, but he could feel the vibration of your laugh since you were leaning against him.

“My own wife laughing about jokes about me, I see.”

“Um, pookie… have you seen your baby pictures? It's always been big.” You asked him and he turned up his nose.

“I…forget about that Birkin you wanted for Valentine’s Day.”

“Hold on! Wait! I take it back!”

“Nope. Damage is done. I'm sleeping in the guest room.”

“Okay Mr. Dramatic.”

“AYE! ANOTHER TOUCHDOWN!” Justin exclaimed as he raised his arms in excitement.

“Andy needs to whoop everybody's ass on that field.”

“I think the Eagles got him covered in that department.”

“No 3 peat is happening at this point.”

It was now the final seconds of the fourth quarter and it was now set in stone that the Eagles had won. They were interviewing Jalen when a thought popped up in your head.

"I can not believe they got their ass beat this bad. I feel like a curse has been lifted." Justin said, and you stifled a laugh.

“I expect everyone in this room that has an NFL contract to be in the super bowl next year. Do with that information what you will.” You said and all three of them looked at you.

“If the front office actually gets its shit together so we can keep everyone we need.” Joe said before rolling his eyes.

“Are we going to make bets? I think we should.”

“Sure when the regular season starts, but my husband needs to take me to Disney World after he wins. And Ja’Marr is on babysitting duty.”

“Fine, 250 dollars an hour. EACH.”

"You must be out of your damn mind." Joe told him in response as he looked at him in disbelief while you were laughing.

[acid-ixx]

i feel like reader from again&again would end up being hypersexual, idk if anyone has mentioned it before but they’d up having a lot of trust issues and attachments issues.

— masterlist !

tw: sexual themes and talks of sexual assaults.

i was contemplating whether i should make them hypersexual or not!!! i'm speaking from my own personal experience that it's a very complicated feeling to portray. chasing for that momentary high, doing anything you can just to feel pleasure because you were always stripped from attention that you find it in other ways, the absolute disgust that comes after, the regret, yet the constant cycle of returning to that habit even after you promised to stop from one round, doing it over and over again even if at most times it feels like you're losing your enjoyment and doing it all out of the need for fulfilment; i can do that, but that will be bordering on dub-con and darker themes if i were to write it, which i'm not sure if some readers of mine will like, especially since conner is the love interest—

but truthfully, i think it would do well for a hurt/comfort prompt after they get together. you know, trying to push yourself too hard by trying to pleasure kon despite your inexperience, fearing that he'll leave if you don't do what he wants. the panic, the hesitance on even feeling his body because, truly, you've never held someone with different intentions, never been touched so intimately by others before yourself. and that kind of turns into an addiction, a need to do whatever it takes to keep his eyes on you even if it destroys you inside out.

yet your boyfriend is receptive, he notices how your lingering touches can sometimes feel cold yet done so through necessity, how you chase after your peak even if it brings more pained tears than pleasurable moans. how you beg for more yet shamefully hide yourself from a mirror right after. his confrontation after just a week, his soft voice promising that there's no need to rush it all out, how he doesn't see you as an object but his equal, his power, his everything. how there's no price to pay to obtain his love, your body an altar than an offering, how his was always yours to begin with.

and with how the family will react to this? honestly, the first person who would break at the moment he hears this information is dick grayson.

most portray him as a playboy, a puppet for most to sexualize. he takes advantage of that, turns it into his weapon, but deep within, he has his fair share of trauma being assaulted by not just one, but two (or more, depending on the comics) women. and with just how silenced and invalidated men are too when it comes to their trauma, it wouldn't be a surprise that, well, dick would be incredibly heartbroken realizing how his baby bird, the very same child he swore to protect, trudges the same path as him, carries the same burden on their back while pretending like everything's okay.

it destroys him, inside-out, how he's the oldest, the one supposed to guide the people around him, the one who buries all the pent-up anger, the turmoil at carrying the burden of all the terrible things that happened to him, turning it into motivation— yet ultimately failing to guide his very own sibling.

the one he introduced to the manor, the one he came to call his baby bird on the very same day.

i think about that a lot, a moment where he'll suddenly barge into your room, whether it would be before you'd be before you'd be kidnapped or not, and just... hugging you, burying his head on your shoulders while his hands just encapsulate your entire body. you don't know how or why he found you, don't know why he's shivering, why he's muttering sorry's and unbidden promises, desperate callings to your name like he just can't believe you're still alive, your shoulders damp with tears and dick just refusing to let go of you. i think about it a lot, how in the case of sexual trauma, you'd be dick's ultimate failure, a person he failed to protect from the very same thing that destroyed him. and yet he couldn't even bond it over with you, because you're so... so guarded and so broken that even if you and dick now share just one similarity, you still refuse his comfort, his promises that never again will you handle it alone.

it's not impossible that the reader would be hypersexual whilst still sporting insecurities. i have my own bodily issues too that i'm coping with; i typically emulate that onto the reader. so if anything from above fascinates my readers, i'm willing to write it out for future chapters because i love tackling complex topics, it helps me make my brain bigger teehee.

[brattyspence]

white noise | s.r

a/n: don't look at me i'm nervous for this

summary: spencer x reader -- a situationship defined by white noise; a metaphor for how we pacify ourselves and make stupid decisions to experience comfort, even when it hurts

word count: 1.2k (shut up okay)

masterlist

As you roll over in his bed, the soft white noise of feathers settling in down pillows and sheets crumpling up under your body echoes through your head. This white noise, his white noise, the sound of jersey sheets and an old ceiling fan and his heartbeat under your ear and him, which you've learned to fall asleep to more often than not.

It's cold in his room, but the still bed radiates warmth. There's a domestic quality to the way his fingertips trail up and down your arm, tracing lines over your shoulder absentmindedly. It's possessive somehow, in a way that says I’ve been here before, I’ll be here again. 

There's a trait to Spencer that you can't quite put your finger on. It's familiar. It's falling asleep with your back against his stomach, his breathing pattern long engraved in your physiology. Its the thrum of the engine in his shitty old Volvo when he picks you up from work when you're too tired to walk. It's forehead kisses and whispered things that replay in your mind when you're struggling to put together all of the pieces.

Spencer is white noise. 

You could be upset about it. You should, in fact. Spencer’s commitment to non-commitment haunts you more often than not. The domesticity of your situation sneaks up on you sometimes, in the form of remembered coffee orders, the lingering touch of his hand on your hip when you go out together. He’s perfected all the things to make you feel like you belong to him, but he just can’t find the words to make it true. Still, you’ve become so used to him that you’re not sure you can quit despite your feelings.

Sunlight just barely makes its way through his blinds by the time he’s awake. It's morning, earlier than you'd like it to be, but you always wake up with him when you're here. 

Your eyes flutter open and closed a few times before they focus, the room filled with the warm light emanating from the sconces. Light that hardens edges and raises new questions and drives a wedge between you, literally. This time of day has long become the bane of your existence. 

“Morning,” he murmurs. He brushes the hair out of your eyes with the softest touch you've ever felt. You instinctively scrunch your face, too close to sleep to process, and you don't realize what he's doing until he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your only response is an inaudible mumble. He doesn't need words to know what you're saying. It's come back to bed, it's I'm so tired, and it's too early,

“Coffee’s on,” he says. 

“Hm,” you hum. 

And so it goes as it does every day. A mug–your mug–, filled with coffee made to your liking left on the kitchen counter for you. A toothbrush left in the holder in your favorite color. You both get ready in silence, a practiced ritual, making space for each other with lingering touches where needed. 

“Lock the door when you leave?” He asks. You can hear the sound of his bag being shucked over his shoulder, and in an instant he’s behind you, warm hands on your hips and a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

You spend the day waiting, as you always do, for him to invite you back in. You know its pathetic, that you should be better than this. You think of all the advice you’ve ever received about love and relationships and what not to do. How not to be desperate. The second his message crosses your screen, any semblance of logic fades. it doesn’t matter. 

When you finally stumble through the entryway to his apartment, the day drops to your feet like shattered glass, shoes and bags and jackets left on the floor, discarded, forgotten, because you’re here. You can go back to pretending for just a little bit longer. 

Its 11pm when you find yourself right back where you started. In his bed, wearing clothes that live in his drawers, the ceiling fan set to your preferred speed. You’re half asleep on the side of the bed that you’ve claimed as your own, at least for 5 nights a week, your cheek pressed into his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart continuing to etch itself into your memory. 

The day weighs heavy on you as it always does. Almost as heavy as the weight of all the things left unspoken, which you’ve been carrying around as long as you’ve known him.

“Spencer?” You murmur, fingertips idlying toying at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Hm?”

You pause to listen to the sound of your fingers running over the fabric of his shirt. Theres the gentle hum of the heater, the flickering of a TV left on somewhere. There’s comfort to how things are. Asking the question in your mind could disrupt that. 

“Do you think,” you swallow, adjusting your head against him to look up at him. “That you’ll change your mind?”

“About us?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, and your head bobs with the rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t know. Maybe one day.”

Silence lingers between you for a moment. It swells within every corner of your being.

“One day.”

“Maybe,” he corrects. It’s not biting or mean, but it's a deflection. “I don’t know, baby.”

It takes a lot to avoid the temptation to press him. He’s a hypocrite, at minimum. You could tell him all sorts of things about how he’s wrong, and how he doesn’t get it. That it’s not fair that he gets you in every form; asleep, awake, happy, sad, in bed, at work, and you get nothing to show for it. You could give him shit for being exactly how he is, but you don’t. Instead you choose to hold on to maybe. Maybe – an empty promise, but one you’ll accept in exchange for whatever time he will give you.

Instead you sigh, scooting closer. He tucks your head right into position, the same way you sleep every night, with practiced ease. His hands find their home against your skin, leaving warm spots on your back that lull you halfway to sleep before you try again. 

“I’m waiting for you,” you mumble. The words slip out before you can think about the weight of them. It’s an admission, a request, a plea. It’s stupid. It makes you feel sick in more ways than one, but it’s the truth.

“Go to sleep,” he replies.

It’s an open ended question. Its a chance to pick a fight, to force him to make up his mind. Its an opportunity to tell him off. Tonight, though, you don’t bother thinking about how his words lack substance. How he dances around every question. You don’t have time to notice just how upset you really are before he presses another kiss to your forehead. 

Tonight, you choose this. White noise; the illusion of belonging, his heartbeat under your cheek, hands running across bare skin, the quiet comfort of him –  his home, his space. Him. 

You choose white noise, static, empty promises, the comfort of being here as compared to anywhere else. Maybe tomorrow it will all matter. But not tonight.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

One thing that sticks out to me that not alotta people mention is that Ramshackle wasn't the dorm's original name? Like, I recall in the light novel that Grim complains about the disrepair of the dorm, specifically calling it "Ramshackle", which the 3 ghosts then jokingly say "Hey! That's we can call it! Ramshackle Dorm!" It's interesting

I think people tend to not mention it because they genuinely overlook that detail (I'm included in that group www). The naming of our place of residence actually occurs in the game's prologue as well, but it's VERY easy to miss because of how it is presented. We first arrive at the dilapidated dorm building in part 5 of the prologue:

The problem here is that, as you can tell from the screenshots above, the location placards the game presents us with already names this location as "Ramshackle Dorm" (even though Crowley does not refer to it by any name prior to this). This would lead many players to assume the building has always been called Ramshackle.

In part 8 of the prologue, Grim complains that the dorm is "ramshackle"--which, as you should note, is not capitalized. The adjective ramshackle means "(especially of a house or vehicle) in a state of severe disrepair"--an apt description of the place. However, because it is not capitalized here, Grim isn't yet naming the building Ramshackle, and we quickly move onto an entirely new topic of discussion after this comment.

It is not until part 20 (the final part of the prologue) that Grim officially names the building "Ramshackle". His wording implies that he and Yuu agreed to calling their dorm "Ramshackle" when this conversation really did not happen earlier. There was never a formal scene dedicated to Grim and Yuu chatting about what they should call their new home.

This is expanded on in the first volume of the light novel, but it is also easily missed because while most Twst fans do play the game, not many have the attention span or the interest to read the novelization. There are many things added or changed in the light novels that are missed because of this.

The expanded conversation occurs on page 112 in the English light novel:

You'll notice that in the light novel, the adjective "ramshackle" is capitalized to "Ramshackle", which denotes a proper noun/refers to a particular place. This is followed up by the ghosts commenting that they love the name Ramshackle for their historical home. It's much more obvious in this version of the Twst main story that "Ramshackle" is a name Grim came up with and not a name that the dorm always had.

I guess I always felt that "Ramshackle" was an official name for the dorm and not one we came up with because of the ease with which everyone in the cast adopts the term??? Like no one ever questions what it refers to, even the students we've never met before or even Crowley, who reasonably should know that building's original name. Everyone else just kind of accepts that's what it is called now, even though we technically are only ever shown telling Ace and Deuce on-screen what we've dubbed the old dorm. I think we're supposed to suspend our disbelief for this detail or are expected to assume that the name spread around the student body through the rumor mill (cuz surely everyone would be gossiping about the strange new magicless student from another world) 💦

[fierceawakening]

I'm going to be kind of a dick here too and say "what is the goal here?"

Because, while I think it is important to be visibly anti-Nazi (or whatever), I think where we choose to be visible can matter.

Years and years ago, long before Trump was anything but a weird racist ranting about Obama's birth certificate, I joined some leftist groups I now feel were high control and not very effective.

And they said... well not this exact thing, as this sounds like it's more about friend groups than family. And what they said was things like "if one 80 year old can understand not to be prejudiced, your uncle Jim is making a choice to be. And if you don't speak up, you're making a choice to let him be."

So I was at a family gathering, and my old relatives were talking, and there was a long history of Greek communities and Jewish communities having tension when they were young, and they said some things about Jews, using Greek terms that... well, I don't know if they were slurs or just "Jew" or whatever, but I found it weird and uncomfortable coupled with what they were saying (the thing about how Jews see themselves as "the chosen people" and this makes them do arrogant things, IIRC.)

I got upset, I said so, I stormed out.

The result of this was not my family members changing their minds or softening their rhetoric. The result of this was family gossip about how I'd been radicalized and there was something wrong with me.

It changed nothing, and some of these people died before I saw them again and had a chance to have a conversation about it. I still feel sad that some of these people may have died thinking I was their enemy, since I didn't really explain (or think, at the time, that I SHOULD explain) that I was saying "please don't do that" and not "I despise you utterly."

So... I think stands like the one I took, in public and loudly, CAN be good politics. But they're theater.

Who's the audience for the theater?

If it's the prejudiced person and they're deep enough in their beliefs they'll just deem you a Karen and look confused in the general direction of nice people.

If it's other people around in the public space, THAT can matter. But if you can, you should make sure that they heard the Nazi-ing that precipitated you calling everyone's attention to your comment or your flouncing. That helps ensure that people know why you considered it serious enough to call attention.

If it's your own conscience, that's okay too. But bear in mind that the universe is not always just, and people may just think you're being dramatic.

Especially if in your family or friend group, you're The Loud Leftist, as I was at the time.

Again, not saying don't do it. It's often needed. But do consider: is this something you will want to have done even if it bombs and no one sees the intent behind what you did?

If the answer is yes, THEN do it.

[vampstarkey]

❝  jealous of your brother ..

Masterlist ☆

＿ warnings: unprotected sex, sucking on the neck, virgin reader, cheating, pussy slapping, jealous reader, face sitting, boobs pressing and female masturbation.

＿ Note: this has not been reviewed (if that's not your thing then leave)

You were the adopted daughter of the Cameron family, the little princess Kook. Ever since you were little, everyone on the island knew your name. You grew up surrounded by privileges, always protected by Rafe, your older brother. He wouldn't let anything or anyone get close to you without his approval. No matter how old you were, he always made sure to watch over you, keep you away from any danger and, especially, from anyone he deemed unworthy of your presence. After all, brothers do these things, right?

But lately, things started to change. Rafe, the same guy who spent nights at parties hugging different girls, was suddenly in a serious relationship. You never imagined he was the kind of guy who would get attached to someone, not after so many nights watching him drink until he lost his mind and get involved with any girl who came along. This always bothered you, although you would never admit it. It was a strange, suffocating feeling, but you tried to swallow it.

That night, another party was happening at the Cameron mansion. Ward and Rose were out, and as always, Rafe took advantage of his parents' absence to turn the house into a meeting place for his friends, the same ones as always, all noisy, drinking and having fun. You usually preferred to avoid that kind of environment. But this time, you decided to come down from your room, maybe out of curiosity, maybe because a part of you wanted to see Rafe.

As you crossed the crowded room, your eyes soon found the scene that made your stomach turn: a brunette sitting on his lap, her lips close to your ear as she whispered something that made you smile in a way you didn't like at all. His arm rested on her waist, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin. It was obvious that the girl was his girlfriend.

You felt a lump tighten in your throat, a heat rising through your body, an almost childish urge to roll your eyes and leave. But before you could move away, Rafe had already noticed your presence. And now, his eyes were fixed on you. "What are you doing here?" Rafe looked at you in surprise, after all he knew that you almost never showed up when he was throwing a party.

You crossed your arms trying to look indifferent, even though you felt the weight of his gaze falling on you “I didn’t know I needed your permission to walk around my own house, Rafe.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms before lightly touching the girl's leg in his lap. "Give me a minute with my little sister, dear." He told her, giving her a carefree smile. The brunette nodded, standing up without question and blending into the crowd. As soon as she was out of sight, Rafe turned his attention to you, walking over to where you were. "I never said you couldn't come, y/n, I just assumed you'd be staying in your room, like always." His eyes went up and down, looking at your body.

"Well, but now I'm here, is there a problem?" The words came out more firmly than you felt inside, but heat quickly rose to your cheeks when he looked at you like that, maybe it was just in your head. "No, no problem, I just think you should change out of those short pajamas, it's not the right environment for that." There he was giving you orders like he always did and in fact it was to be expected. "I don't want to change," you replied without hesitation.

“Don’t test my patience, go upstairs and put on something else right now.” The order was direct, sharp, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Considering the environment, your outfit really wasn’t appropriate at all, but that seemed more like an excuse than a genuine concern. The short pink shorts made of thin silk and the white blouse that accentuated your breasts, a combination you wore only to feel comfortable at home, now seemed to be the center of criticism. Rafe, who always saw you wearing this type of outfit, knew very well the impact it caused.

You arched an eyebrow, trying not to let your discomfort show, and responded with a forced smile. “Stop it. Why don’t you go worry about your girlfriend?” A sarcastic smile expanded on Rafe’s face, and he realized right away what was happening. It was as if he was amused by the fact that you couldn’t hide your irritation and jealousy. He let out a low laugh, but the teasing tone was clear. “Oh, so that’s it, are you jealous?” Your eyes widened at that observation. He wasn't wrong, but of course you weren't going to say it.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me, I'm not jealous." The answer came out in a rush, louder than you would have liked, trying to hide the truth behind words that didn't have as much power as your trembling voice. "Don't be silly, I know you." He watched you with an almost triumphant smile, as if he was unraveling every piece of you.

He took a long step towards you, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm tightly. Rafe came even closer, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispered: “I can prove you right, sis.” That low, possessive tone of voice was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine.

The feeling of having no control over what was happening made your mind spin, and you found yourself wondering where this would take you. “Don’t play with me like that, Rafey.” His name, pronounced that way, had a different weight. That was how you used to call him when you were still a little girl.

“Oh, yeah? I don’t play with things I’m interested in, sis.” Rafe’s voice sounded almost like a challenge, loaded with something you couldn’t define. Before you could respond, he still held your arm tightly, pulling you without warning to a secluded corner of the house.

The surroundings seemed to disappear, and the only sound that filled the space was the distant music of The Weeknd that played in the background, creating a melody that contrasted with the tension, that was enough for you to realize what was happening. “Did you know that I always wanted you, y/n?” Rafe’s words hung in the air, a whisper that seemed to carry an immense weight, he looked at your lips as if he wanted to devour them.

You wanted to deny it, to push that idea away, but somehow you knew he was telling the truth and you could no longer try to hide how much you wanted your hot brother to touch you or do anything with your body, no matter how wrong and dirty it was. “Do you really want me, Rafe?” You asked hopefully as you felt the space shrinking more and more as he got closer.

Rafe took a strand of your hair and put it behind your ear. “You know I do, don’t play innocent, you can be everything, but innocent I know you’re not.” The boy placed you against the wall, holding your hands on each side of your body, leaving you immobile.

What you didn't know was that your older brother had caught you masturbating in your room a few times during the night, but he never intervened since he loved watching you rubbing yourself on your pillow or desperately sticking your fingers inside.

Every now and then, when you were out of the house, Rafe would take some of those thin lace panties of yours from your dresser drawer and smell them, he would rub them on his own cock while imagining everything he would like to do to his sweet and dear little sister.

Rafe's touch was quick, pulling the back of your neck firmly. In a subtle movement, his lips brushed yours, he bit your lips slowly, almost as if he was testing your limits, while his tongue slid softly into your red mouth, teasing you. "But... what about your girlfriend?" You asked with difficulty since the way he played with your lips made it a little difficult for you to speak.

“Shh, be quiet, don’t worry about her, we’re not doing anything wrong, after all I’m your brother.” He continued to pay attention to your lips, but now finally attacking them for good, Rafe kissed you with desire, pressing your body even more against the wall. His hands followed your waist, going down lower and lower in hot grips, the boy groped your ass with desire as he felt an uncontrolled, almost primitive hunger, the forbidden desire was erotic.

“Let me take care of you, will you let me?” He squeezed once more on the pink fabric of your short shorts that revealed a piece of your soft ass. “Yeah, I’ll let you..” A muffled moan left your lips after feeling the heat of Rafe’s hands against your skin. “Come with me, trust me.” Rafe said full of authority that you couldn’t ignore. He grabbed your hand with a firmness that seemed like a command, and before you could even think about the consequences, your feet moved, following you without question. He climbed the stairs with an almost predatory agility, the pressure of his hand pulling you closer to him.

When you reached the door to his room, you opened it without hesitation, and the sound of the latch clicking was like a signal for what was to come. In one fluid movement, he pulled you inside, and the air in the room seemed denser, heavier, as if the world outside no longer existed, the door closed behind you, and the darkness of Rafe's room seemed to envelop everything, as if you were in a place where nothing else mattered, just him and you.

— ☆ . .

Rafe was on top of you, already shirtless, as he hurriedly took off your silk shorts. “Tell me, has anyone ever fucked this sweet little pussy?” You shook your head in disagreement, no one had ever done anything sexual to you before. “Your brother is going to take your virginity then, sweetie.” It felt so wrong, but it was so delicious that you were just letting yourself get carried away.

Your shorts were thrown on the floor, giving Rafe a view of your tiny panties, he could see the wet spot that had formed from your arousal. Knowing that you were a virgin had only made the boy harder, being the first to taste your pussy was all he wanted.

“Sit on my face.” Overcome with lust, that was exactly what you did, it didn’t take long for the positions to reverse, you pulled your panties down, throwing them on the floor, soon adjusting yourself on top of Rafe, you sat on his face relaxing your pussy on top of him.

Rafe felt like he was going to collapse having all that sight before him. His brother's tongue moved slightly against your wet pussy while he had his hands resting on your thigh. "God, that feels so good.." You moaned, starting to rub yourself against his face.

Your pussy covered his face, Rafe felt like he could die suffocated by your pussy and still die happy. You held on to the headboard of the bed while your hips moved on his face, sliding so easily that it made you numb. The feeling of having a tongue sucking you for the first time was incredible, you just wanted more, you wanted to be able to feel everything Rafe was capable of giving you.

He sucked your clit, rubbing his tongue and nose against you, feeling your taste and your smell. "I want to taste this pussy every day, it tastes delicious." Rafe's hot breath hit your slit, you were trying hard not to moan loudly as he sucked you like that. Rafe was squeezing you tightly, swallowing you like it was the last thing he could do in his life.

You pulled your shirt hard, letting it fall, your nipples were hard and exposed, they swayed in a back and forth motion as you rubbed yourself against his face. “Rafey..” Your eyes closed tightly as you moaned softly, Rafe knew you were going to cum fast, you had never had this kind of contact, so he stopped sucking you, preventing you from finishing so quickly.

“Why did you stop, Ray?” You said as you sat back down on the bed, your breath coming up and down in your chest frantically. “You can’t cum now, sweetie, or the fun will be over.” Rafe said as he took off his pants along with his blue boxers clumsily, you watched feeling a heat between your legs, he soon pulled you again, but this time turning you to the side. “I want to fuck you like this.” The rough way he picked you up and turned you to the side made you bite your lip.

Rafe stood behind you, moving your hair away from your neck and getting closer. He could feel your ass rubbing against his cock from behind. “Open your legs for me.” As soon as you heard the request, you opened yourself for him. Rafe held your thigh as he began to rub his cock against your wet pussy.

His free hand found one of your breasts, squeezing it. Your body shivered as the head of his cock touched your pussy, which was getting increasingly wet. Rafe slid in, but still didn’t penetrate you. You could feel the way he played with your folds. “Be careful..” Your voice came out lower than you intended, a mix of adrenaline and excitement.

Rafe laughed at the comment, but without giving you any answers, he continued rubbing against you. His nose touched your smooth neck, smelling it and leaving small hickeys on the area that immediately turned purple as he continued.

“I’m going to put it inside you now, okay?” Rafe was usually pretty rough in bed, but since it was your first time, he felt the need to warn you before pushing in. “O-okay..”

He rubbed your entrance one last time before putting his cock inside, he pushed slowly as you felt a new and delicious sensation inside you. “Can you handle these nine inches of your brother, sweetie?” He pushed harder and harder as he heard your moans getting more intense.

“Yes, I can.” Rafe kept you open for him, soon moving. “Little slut, naughty.” The boy squeezed one of your breasts again, moving in and out of your pussy, the headboard of the bed banged against the wall, the only thing that could stop anyone from hearing what was happening inside the room was the music that was still playing outside. “Fuck, I love this.” He thought it was funny to see you cursing, it was fucking exciting to see how slutty you could be when no one was watching. His hips moved quickly, you felt like he could burst the walls of your pussy.

His breathing was fast against your ear, you welcomed every inch. “See how good your brother is fucking you, huh..” What you imagined when you were alone in your room was happening, your brother was really fucking you. “You make me feel so good..” You said, squirming on his cock.

Rafe stopped squeezing your breasts and started stimulating your clit with two fingers, he could feel how tight you were, he had never fucked a girl like that, your brother was marking his territory. “Now you’re mine, no one can touch you like this but me.” He slammed deep inside, your legs were getting weak. “Only I can make you cum, sis.” The words had a strong effect on you, Rafe slapped your pussy causing spasms throughout your body, it was as if moments ago you hadn't even had a little "argument" over jealousy.

He continued rubbing your clit as you slowly melted. "Ray, I-I'm going to-" Your words were cut off by the sensation that took over you, a delicious orgasm slowly hitting you as Rafe thrust inside. "Like that, sweetie, so good." Rafe slapped your pussy again feeling you cum on him.

The boy turned to you again, seeing you completely sweaty after what they did. “Don’t tell daddy what we did, or it’ll get us in trouble.” He grabbed a sheet that was next to him, covering your body. “I won’t tell.” His voice was low and tired as he looked at him with his beautiful Bambi eyes. “Great, sweetie, that’ll be our secret.”

Before he could do anything, Rafe tilted his head slightly, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Now tell me, were you jealous?” You crossed your arms and pouted involuntarily, hesitating for a moment before admitting in a low voice: “Okay, I confess… I didn’t like seeing you with another girl.”

The sarcastic smile that formed on his lips was one you already knew very well, full of provocation and certainty. “I may be with her now, but the one I really want is you.”

Your chest rose and fell quickly, the weight of his words hitting you like a shock. But before you could react, a loud knock echoed from the other side of the door, cutting the moment abruptly.

“Hey, Rafe, are you there, man?” Topper’s voice sounded from the other side, full of impatience.

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh as he quickly moved away from you. In a hurried movement, he picked up his scattered clothes and began to dress, clearly as surprised as you were by the interruption. “I have to go, y/n.” He said as he adjusted his shirt, his eyes fixed on yours, as if he wanted to assure you that this wouldn’t end there. “Stay here in my room, I promise I’ll be back, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. The gesture was contradictory, but loaded with something more. The last thing you heard before the door closed was his voice saying to his friend: “Hey, man.”

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: A passionate yet complicated friends-with-benefits arrangement unravels as you finally confronts Aaron about his inability to commit.

Warnings: 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, p in v, bdsm themes

A/N: First thing I've ever posted, mostly porn with a crumb of plot.

The hotel suite is dimly lit, city lights flickering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your skin is still warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the air. Aaron lies beside you, bare-chested, arm draped lazily across his forehead, his breathing steady but not quite asleep.

"You good?" His voice is rough, sleep-laced, breaking the silence.

You hesitate. "Yeah."

He turns his head, studying you. "Liar."

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you're about to say. " I don't think we should do this anymore."

Aaron's brow furrows slightly at your words, his striking blue-grey eyes searching your face. He props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping dangerously low on his hips.

"Hey now, what's all this about?" His deep voice is soft, almost concerned, but there's an undercurrent of tension. 

"Talk to me, sweetheart." He reaches out, fingers brushing along your arm, touch feather-light. It's a gesture meant to soothe, but you sense the calculation behind it. Aaron is always aware, always assessing.

"I thought we had something good going here. No strings, no bullshit." A slow smirk curves his full lips. "Or am I mistaken?"

You sigh. "I need to focus on finding someone to build an actual future with Aaron. We’ve been doing this for over a year. I obviously love fucking you, but watching you constantly flirt with other women at every event, seeing them leave your apartment at 3:00 am on TMZ, it gets old after a while."

Aaron's hand stills on your arm, his expression shifting - surprise, then a flash of something harder to read. He sits up fully, running a hand over his face. "Shit..." He sighs, the sound heavy in the quiet room. "I didn't realize it was bothering you that much. I've always been straight up about... my preferences."

His gaze finds yours, intense and searching. "But I get it. You're looking for more than just a good time these days." There's a note of understanding in his tone, but also regret.

He reaches for you, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "I care about you, you know. More than just as a friend with benefits or whatever we are. But I'm not sure I'm built for that whole 'forever' thing yet."

"I understand Aaron, I really do." I sit up too, pulling the sheet around myself like armor. My heart aches but I force myself to hold his gaze steadily. This is important. I need him to truly hear me.

"I want to respect your boundaries and your current lifestyle. But I also need to respect my own needs and desires. And right now, those are leading me in a different direction. I hope we can still be friends though."

Aaron's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to your words. When you finish speaking, he's silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"You say you need to find someone to build a future with, but baby, look at what we have." His other hand slides from your cheek to tangle in your hair, tilting your face up towards his. "The chemistry between us is off the charts. I make you feel things no one else ever could."

“How would I know if I don’t even try?” you say, voice steady. “I haven’t been with anyone else since we started whatever this is.”

Aaron's eyes flash with anger and hurt at your flippant words. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Don't fucking joke about that," he snarls, voice rough with emotion. “You're not like me. You're better than that shallow shit."

He looms over you, naked and powerful, muscles coiled with tension. But there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a crack in his usual confident facade. "Is that what you really want? To be just another notch in someone's bedpost? Because I can tell you from experience, it's a lonely fucking road."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, touch almost tender despite the intensity smoldering in his eyes. "We can’t end things like this. Let me show you how good we can be together, outside the bedroom too."

You pull back slightly, meeting his intense gaze steadily, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Aaron, please... don't make this harder than it already is.” Your voice wavers slightly but you push on. "I appreciate everything you're saying, I do. But I can't keep settling for less than what I truly want and need."

I place my hand over his on my hip, squeezing gently. "We have an incredible physical connection, yes. But I need more. I need a partner, someone to build a life with. Someone who chooses me completely and exclusively."

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you continue. "As much as it hurts, I have to accept that person isn't you. We’ve been doing this for over a year now, and that would definitely be enough time to know if I’m worth that commitment. In your eyes, I’m obviously not considering you’re still fucking other women every week."

Aaron's eyes blaze with a storm of emotions - fear, anger, desperation, and beneath it all, a flicker of something deeper, more vulnerable. As the tear traces down your cheek, his expression crumples.

"Fuck, baby, don't cry," he rasps, voice thick with feeling. His hands move to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the moisture. "You are worth it. You're worth everything." He takes a shuddering breath, clearly struggling with his next words. 

"I know I haven't shown it well, but fuck, you mean more to me than anyone else. Than all the other women combined." Aaron's forehead comes to rest against yours. "I'm scared, okay? Scared of fucking this up, of losing you completely."

You sigh, "I think that if you were really scared of losing me we would’ve progressed into something more by now. Surely you didn't think I was just gonna be your fuck buddy forever, right?"

Aaron pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath. "You're right. I should have done something sooner." He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. 

"But I'm done being afraid. Done letting my own bullshit fears push away the person who matters most. Losing you is a lot scarier." One hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb stroking softly as he continues.

"Baby, I... I love you. Have for a while now. And I know I don't deserve you, but I'm asking anyway - give me a chance to be the man you need."

You stare at him in shock, hardly daring to breathe. Those three little words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.

"You... you love me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with a fragile hope. "Really?"

Tears well up again, but this time they're tinged with joy rather than sorrow.

 "I love you too, Aaron. So much it scares me sometimes. But I know you too well. You love women. You love attention. You hate commitment. I feel like you’re only saying this as a last resort because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

You start removing the sheets from your body, moving to get up from the bed. Aaron's eyes widen in panic as you start to rise, his grip on your shoulders tightening. 

"No, wait! Don't go, please." Desperation colors his deep voice. He shifts, using his body weight to gently but firmly press you back onto the mattress. His gaze bores into yours, blue-grey eyes blazing with sincerity and barely restrained emotion. 

"I'm saying this because it's true, because I can't bear the thought of you walking out that door and out of my life." One hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you close. 

"I know I have a reputation, and I can't change my past. But I want to change my future. With you."

Aaron's heart clenches painfully as he sees the tears streaming down your face, hears the hitch in your breath as you try to pull away. He knows he's caused this pain, this doubt, and the realization guts him.

"Shh, baby, please don't cry," he murmurs, voice raw with emotion. Gently but insistently, he keeps you in place, one strong arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand cups your face, thumbs wiping away the tears.

"I know I have to prove myself to you. And I will, every fucking day if that's what it takes." His eyes search yours, pleading and determined. 

"Give me a chance to show you how serious I am. Stay with me tonight, talk to me in the morning. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust, your heart."

"It's just too late Aaron,” you reply through your tears. “It kills me, but I have to go."

Aaron's expression darkens, a flash of possessiveness and desperation in his eyes as he tightens his arms around you, holding you in place on the bed. 

"No, you don't have to go anywhere," he says, his voice low and insistent. “Not like this, not when we're finally being honest with each other. He shifts, hovering over you, using his larger frame to pin you gently but firmly to the mattress. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

"I know I've fucked up, that I've made mistakes. But I'm trying to make this right, baby. Can't you see that?" His eyes bore into yours, blue-grey irises swirling with emotion. "Don’t leave me, please."

Inside, your heart pounds—he’s finally refusing to let you go. But you keep up the act, teasing the edge of goodbye, waiting to see if he’ll chase you, if he’ll prove just how much he cares.

"Sweetheart, stop fighting this," he growls, the words rumbling through his chest and into yours. 

"I'm not letting you leave until you understand how much you mean to me." One large hand splays across your lower back, holding you flush against him while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose the column of your throat. Aaron dips his head, lips brushing the sensitive skin there as he speaks.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you here, to show you that you're the only woman I want, the only one I need." His lips graze your pulse point. "Tell me you'll stay."

You whimper softly, your body betraying you as it melts into his touch despite my resolve to leave. The heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, the desperate need in his voice - it's all so overwhelmingly tempting.

"A-Aaron... you breathe, voice shaky. I want to believe you, I do. But I'm scared. Scared that this is just an empty promise, that you'll go back to your old ways as soon as I give in." Even as you speak, your hands come up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Tears still leak from the corners of your eyes but t

"How do I know this is real? That you're not just saying these things to get me to stay the night?"

Aaron's eyes flash with determination and raw, unfiltered emotion. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks, voice low and fervent.

"It's real, baby. Every word, every feeling. I may not have said it before, but I've loved you for so long." His hand in your hair gentles, fingers combing through the strands almost reverently. 

"I know I have a lot to prove, that actions will always speak louder than words. But I'm ready to put in the work, to be the man you deserve." He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze head-on.

Your voice shakes, a mix of anger and something more painful. “How can you say you love me while you’ve been out fucking other women constantly? I haven’t even been able to think about anyone else since I’ve met you. I know we're not in a committee relationship and you have every right to sleep with whoever you want. I do appreciate you always being honest about it, but that definitely doesn't feel like love to me. ”

Aaron's expression contorts with guilt and frustration at your accusation. He shakes his head vehemently, dark hair falling into his eyes. 

"No, baby, it's not like that at all." His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn't release you entirely, as if afraid you'll slip away. 

"Those other women, they meant nothing. They were a distraction, a way to avoid facing my feelings for you.” He takes a shuddering breath, eyes pleading. “Please give me a chance to make this right. "

You wipe tears from your face. "Let me go, Aaron."

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he slowly releases his grip on you. His hands fall away from your body as he sits back on his heels, giving you space even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

"If that's truly what you want, then... I won't stop you," he says quietly, voice rough with emotion. "But please know that I meant every word I said. I love you, and I'm going to spend every day proving it to you, whether you're here with me or not."

You tell yourself you have to leave. That if you don’t walk away now, he’ll never take you seriously, never realize what he stands to lose. You want him to fight for you, to prove that this is more than just convenience, more than just a game he always wins.

As you move to leave, Aaron leaps up from the bed, his tall, muscular form blocking your path to the door.

"Baby, wait!" he calls out, voice cracking with urgency. In two quick strides, he's in front of you, one hand coming up to grasp your wrist gently but imploringly. 

His grip on your wrist tightens fractionally as he pulls you a step closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears.

Aaron captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up passion and desperation into the heated caress. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you, as his strong arms wrap around your waist to lift you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist instinctually. In a few swift strides, he carries you back to the bed, laying you down on the rumpled sheets.

He looms over you, eyes dark with lust and determination. "I'm gonna remind you exactly why you belong with me." His hands make quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside carelessly as he exposes your skin to his hungry gaze. Calloused fingertips trace the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Aaron settles between your thighs, pushing them apart to grant himself unrestricted access to your most intimate area. He inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent before diving in, his skilled tongue delving between your folds to lap at your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, circling and flicking the bundle of nerves with practiced precision.

As your moans fill the room, he reaches for the vibrator you kept in his nightstand, turning it on to a low hum. "Let's see how many times I can make you come undone," he purrs wickedly, dragging the toy along your slit teasingly before pressing it firmly against your aching clit.

Aaron works you relentlessly with his mouth and the vibrator, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. Just as you teeter on the cusp of climax, he pulls back, denying you that final push.

"Not yet, baby," he murmurs, voice husky with desire. "You don't get to come until you say you’re mine. Until you promise to give us a real chance."

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, suckling and teasing your nipples until you're writhing beneath him. His hard length throbs against your thigh, a testament to his own arousal, but he ignores it in favor of focusing solely on your pleasure... and your compliance.

"I can do this all night, sweetheart," he warns playfully, nipping at your earlobe.

You’re trembling, your body wound tighter than a bowstring, desperate for release. I look up at Aaron, his handsome face blurry through the haze of lust.

"P-please, Aaron," I whimper brokenly, hips bucking futilely against the cool air. "I can't... I need... Fuck!"

He grins wickedly, clearly reveling in the power he holds over you. "What was that, baby? I didn't quite catch what you said." He circles your clit with the vibrator, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm.

Aaron drinks in the sight of you, sprawled out beneath him, trembling and desperate, your tear-streaked face a beautiful portrait of need. He feels a surge of masculine pride, mixed with genuine tenderness, at the effect he has on you.

"That's it, sweetheart," he croons, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Just say the words. Tell me you'll stay, that you're mine, and I'll give you everything you crave."

He increases the pressure of the vibrator, holding it steady against your throbbing clit as his free hand slides down to tease your entrance. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and challenge. "I can feel how badly you need this, how much you need me. Don't fight it anymore, baby. I’m tired of arguing with you.”

Aaron’s frustration mounts as you continue to resist despite your obvious desperation.

"You're so stubborn, baby girl," he growls, equal parts exasperated and aroused. "But I'm more determined than you are. I'll keep you right on this edge until you surrender to me completely."

To emphasize his point, he suddenly plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked channel, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you.

At the same time, he sucks hard on your clit, the dual stimulation threatening to overwhelm you. "Last chance, sweetheart," he pants against your flesh, eyes glinting with challenge and dark promise.

"Or what?" you challenge. Your body is on fire, but you’re not giving him what he wants so quickly.

Aaron's eyes flash dangerously at your defiant question, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He withdraws his fingers from your aching core, ignoring your whimper of protest, and flips you onto your stomach with ease.

"Oh, baby girl," he purrs darkly, draping his larger frame over your back, caging you in with his arms. "If you keep testing me like this, I might just have to punish that sweet little ass of yours."

One large hand slides down to grope your rear roughly, kneading the supple flesh. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his.

You gasp and moan as he manhandles you, your body responding eagerly to his dominant touch despite your lingering resistance. The threat of punishment sends a forbidden thrill racing down your spine, even as a part of me rebels against being so thoroughly conquered.

"P-punish me?" You manage to stammer out between shaky breaths, trying to inject bravado into your voice that you don't quite feel. 

"And what exactly did you have in mind, big boy?" You arch your back slightly, pressing your ass more firmly into his groping hand, torn between the desire to submit and the need to maintain some semblance of control. Your inner walls flutter weakly, still aching for the fulfillment only he can provide.

"Mmm, such a naughty girl, taunting me like this," he murmurs approvingly. "I think I'll start by turning this pretty pink ass a nice, deep red. Maybe that will get your attention..."

To punctuate his words, he delivers a firm spank to your right cheek, the sting quickly melting into warmth. His palm rubs the abused skin soothingly before repeating the action on the left side. All the while, he rocks his clothed erection against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal. "And if that doesn't convince you to behave..."

Aaron leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Then I might have to tie you up, spread you wide open, and tease this needy little body of yours for hours. Keep you right on the razor's edge, begging so sweetly for release, until you're ready to agree to anything just to cum."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers dipping teasingly through your slick folds. "Would you like that, baby girl? Being completely at my mercy, helpless to do anything but feel?"

You shudder and moan, your body following your true desires even as your mind struggles to hold onto its reservations. The spanks send jolts of painful pleasure radiating through you, stoking the flames of your arousal.

"Ahh...f-fuck, Aaron..." you pant, your voice thick with need. "You can't...can't just...ah!" Another spank cuts off your weak protests, the sensation making your toes curl. The image he paints - of being tied up, spread out, and teased mercilessly - sends a bolt of liquid heat straight to your core. "Yes I want that." you admit.

Aaron smiles triumphantly as he hears the breathy admission fall from your lips, your body's reactions telling him everything he needs to know.

"That's my good girl," he praises huskily, rubbing your ass. "Admitting what you really want. And we both know what that is, don't we, sweetheart?"

True to his word, Aaron secures your wrists above your head with soft ropes, the silky material a delicious contrast to your sensitized skin. He takes a moment to admire the view - you, splayed out and vulnerable, flushed with arousal and anticipation. His eyes rake over your body hungrily, drinking in every dip and curve.

Aaron starts with feather-light touches, tracing the delicate folds of your labia with the tip of his tongue. He laves at your slit, savoring your unique flavor, before zeroing in on your aching clit. A single, purposeful flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud has you keening, your back arching off the bed.

"Mmm, so sensitive," he murmurs appreciatively, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "I could make you cum just like this, couldn't I? With barely any effort at all."

To prove his point, he seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently, alternating with quick, pointed flicks of his tongue. Two fingers plunge deep into your weeping channel, curling to stroke that special spot inside you.

Aaron works you over with single-minded focus, determined to push you to the brink of ecstasy again and again. He varies his technique, switching between broad licks and targeted flicks, alternating suction and pressure on your clit. His fingers pump steadily, twisting and curling, finding new angles to stimulate your innermost depths.

Your thighs tremble and quake around his head as he feasts on you, the obscene sounds of your arousal filling the room. He can feel you tightening around his invading digits, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Just as you teeter on the very edge, he pulls back, denying you that final push. "Not yet, baby, he admonishes playfully, blowing cool air over your drenched folds. You haven't agreed yet."

You writhe and moan, tears of frustration leaking from the corners of your eyes as Aaron edges you relentlessly once again. Your body is wound so tightly, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he denies you again and again, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of climax.

"Please, Aaron!" you beg, voice raw with need. "I can't.... Ahhh!" Your words dissolve into incoherent cries as he suckles particularly hard on your clit, the pleasure bordering on pain. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" You tug desperately at her bonds, craving something, anything to ground yourself. But there's no escape from the exquisite torture he's inflicting.

Aaron notices your continued resistance, even as your body screams for release. A wicked gleam enters his eye as an idea takes shape. He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a sleek black anal plug and a small, soft-bristled brush.

"Let's see how long this stubborn streak of yours lasts, baby girl," he purrs, voice dripping with dark promise. Without warning, he presses the tapered tip of the small plug against your tightly furled rosebud, applying gentle but insistent pressure.

The cool metal contrasts deliciously with the scorching heat of your skin as he slowly works the toy deeper, pausing to let you adjust. Once seated fully, he gives a subtle wiggle, sending sparks of new sensation radiating through your core.

You gasp as the foreign object invades your ass, the stretch and fullness sending shockwaves of sensation through her body. You feel impossibly empty and aching, yet stuffed so deliciously full at the same time. The anal plug shifts with every movement, keeping you hyperaware and on edge.

"Aaahh! Aaron!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as he wiggles the toy teasingly. Tears of overwhelming stimulation prick at the corners of her eyes. "It's too much, I can't-" But your protests are cut short as he dives back between your thighs, that wicked tongue of his lashing at your swollen, throbbing clit again.

He laps at your clit with broad, flat strokes of his tongue, reveling in how sensitive and responsive you've become. The addition of the anal plug seems to heighten every touch exponentially.

He picks up the small, soft-bristled brush, the fluffy head barely an inch wide. Teasingly, he runs the delicate bristles along your slit, catching on your engorged clit with each pass. The light, tickling sensation is maddening, keeping you poised on the knife's edge of orgasm without allowing you to topple over.

You're practically sobbing with need now. Every brush of the soft bristles against your aching clit sends lightning bolts of pleasure zinging up your spine. Combined with the constant pressure and stretch of the anal plug, you feel like you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"P-please, Aaron," you whimper brokenly, voice hoarse from crying out. "I can't... I need... Fuck, I need to cum so badly!" Tears stream freely down your face now, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations consuming her.

Aaron pauses his torment, lifting his head to take in the sight of you - tear-streaked face contorted in agonized bliss, chest heaving with ragged breaths, muscles pulled taut as a bowstring. He drinks in your desperation like fine wine, relishing the power he holds over you.

"Shhh, I know, sweetheart," he croons, voice low and soothing despite the wicked glint in his eyes. "I can see how much you need it. How close you are. But you know what you have to do to earn that release."

He leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "Tell me you're mine, baby. Give yourself to me completely, and I'll let you cum harder than you ever have before. Keep fighting it, and I'll leave you like this, aching and unfulfilled."

Aaron watches your anguished pleas with a mixture of dark satisfaction and growing impatience, shocked that you haven’t used your safe word yet. He can see the war raging within you - the desperate need for completion battling against your stubborn refusal to surrender completely. It's a delicious sight, but he's tired of these games.

"Enough," he says sharply, voice brooking no argument. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, the sudden change in position making the plug shift inside you deliciously. He drapes himself over your back, one large hand splaying across your shoulder blades to pin you down. His other hand snakes around to your front, fingers delving between your legs to circle your clit with ruthless precision.

"Listen closely, baby," he growls in your ear, hips grinding against your ass. "This is your last chance."

Your body suddenly seizes with the force of a life changing orgasm, Aaron curses under his breath, equal parts frustrated and impressed by your lack of control. He doesn't let up his ministrations, fingers continuing their merciless assault on your clit as you thrash beneath him, lost to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Didn't I tell you not to cum without permission?" he growls, voice thick with disapproval even as he grinds against your spasming body, prolonging your peak.

"Such a naughty girl, disobeying me like that." Despite his stern words, there's a note of dark satisfaction in his tone. Your loss of control is a testament to how thoroughly he's unraveled you, brought you to the brink of madness with desire.

Your body trembles and jerks as the aftershocks of her climax roll through you, leaving you boneless and spent. You've never felt so utterly owned, so completely at someone else's mercy.

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I couldn't help it." Even in the aftermath of your orgasm, your body aches for more, craving his touch like a drug. The anal plug shifts inside you with every shuddering breath, keeping you acutely aware of your own arousal. You've never felt so desperate, so willing to submit to another person's every whim.

Aaron's expression softens slightly at the genuine remorse in your voice, though the hunger in his eyes remains undiminished. He gentles his touch, fingers slowing their frenzied pace to languid circles around your still-throbbing clit. His other hand slides up to cup your cheek and tilt your face towards his.

"Shh, it's alright, baby," he murmurs, voice a low, soothing rumble. "I know it was too much to resist. You did so well holding on for as long as you did." He captures your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your whimpers and moans. He flips you on your back again, his gaze is intense, boring into yours with smoldering intent.

Aaron's eyes flash with sadistic glee as he reaches for the vibrator, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows exactly how to push you to your limits, to make you scream and beg and plead for mercy. And he intends to do just that.

"Since you seem to enjoy cumming without permission so much," he purrs, turning the toy to its highest setting, "I think it's time for round two of your punishment."

Without further preamble, he presses the buzzing head directly against your throbbing clit, holding it steady despite your bucking hips. The intense vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure-pain ricocheting through your oversensitized body, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.

Aaron watches with dark satisfaction as you writhe and convulse beneath the relentless assault of the vibrator, your body no longer your own. He can feel the tension building in your core, the way your walls flutter and clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Cum for me again. Show me how much you love being punished, how much you need my touch."

“I can’t, Aaron!” your scream. Aaron ignores your anguished pleas, keeping the vibrator pressed firmly against your abused clit. He revels in the sight of you, so beautifully broken, tears and sweat mingling on your flushed skin as you fall apart in his arms once again.

Even after another orgasm, he doesn’t relent, keeping the vibratior on your swollen clit no matter how hard you buck your hips to avoid it.

"Shh, just breathe through it, baby," he croons, voice deceptively gentle even as he continues the torturous stimulation. "You're doing so well, taking your punishment like a good girl."

His free hand strokes down your trembling thigh, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutal pleasure he's inflicting. Suddenly, he stops the vibrator.

"Ready for more, sweetheart?" he purrs dangerously, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“No, I can’t take anymore, please.” you reply, your voice raspy from screaming.

Aaron hilts himself inside you with one powerful thrust, groaning at the exquisite tightness enveloping him. He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours as he pounds into your sensitive flesh. Each drag of his cock against your inner walls sends sparks of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe." To have Daddy's big, fat cock all to yourself? To be the only one I fuck, the only one I give attention to?"

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the column of your throat. He latches onto the delicate skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, to brand you as his. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight, holding you in place as he rails into you.

You whimper and moan, overwhelmed by the intense sensations "Y-yes, yes, I want you all to myself!" your nails dig into his back, clinging to him desperately as he claims you thoroughly, chasing his own release.

"Okay baby," he whispers, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "I'm not gonna fuck anyone else again. Only you, okay?" He grinds against your cervix with each snap of his hips, determined to stake his claim on your very soul. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he pants harshly.

"I’m serious Aaron... I can't take anymore!" Your hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The anal plug shifts with each movement, adding to the cacophony of sensations assaulting your nerves.

"That's it, baby," he encourages darkly as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Cry for me, beg for me. Show me how much you need me."

"Please," you rasp, voice little more than a broken whisper. "Please, Aaron. I... I won't leave you. I'm yours, okay?" The words fall from your lips like a prayer, a desperate supplication.

In that moment, you know you'd agree to anything, give him anything, if only he'd put an end to this sweet torture. Your pride, your stubbornness, all the walls you've built around her heart - they crumble to dust in the face of her all-consuming desire.

Aaron slows his thrusts, grinding deep inside you as he gazes down at your face intently. His eyes bore into yours, dark with possession and barely restrained lust.

"If you want to come one last time," he says, voice a low, dangerous purr, "tell me you love me. Tell me you'll never even think about leaving me again." He rolls his hips deliberately, stirring up your insides. "Tell me."

Shaking, you finally say, "I-I love you, Aaron. God, I love you so much. I'll never leave you, never threaten to go. Please, please let me come!"

"Those are the magic words, baby," he growls in satisfaction, eyes flashing with triumph and dark desire. "Come for me then. Now." With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as his fingers attack your clit.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. He follows you over the edge moments later, flooding your spasming pussy with his hot seed, marking you as his inside and out.

Collapsing against the sheets, utterly spent and satisfied, "Wow, I think that was your best work yet. I need time to recover." you say, panting between words.

He chuckles lowly, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you close, still buried deep inside you. "Mmm, I aim to please, sweetheart.”

He presses soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss unlike any before. He unties your hands gently.

When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with genuine affection. "I meant what I said, you know. About not seeing other women anymore. I can't believe you thought I was just gonna let you walk away."

Aaron’s forehead rests against yours, his breath unsteady, his grip unrelenting—like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His hands tremble slightly where they hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to memorize the shape of you.

He leans in, his voice a hushed whisper against your lips. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, the fight is over.

Because you were never going anywhere.

[olderthannetfic]

There's an author of a long fic that's been running for awhile that I've been following since the start. They don't respond to comments, never have, as is their right I suppose. Recently the fic has gotten a burst of attention and new comments, big name fans sharing it and so on.

They've added an author's note to the latest chapter along the lines of "I have severe social anxiety so probably won't respond to comments unless they're a specific question that needs an answer (I'm happy to provide trigger warnings if needed and stuff like that.) but know that I do appreciate and treasure your comments, so thank you for reading along. I read them all."

And it kind of pisses me off and feels hypocritical. I have social anxiety, but I've been commenting all along with no response? Just putting myself fucking out there. And they read it, but never bothered? They only say something when they get flooded with comments other writers would fight for? I'd kill for that kind of response to any of my fics. And even then they can't respond to people beyond an AN? If their anxiety is bad enough they can't do that, maybe ao3 isn't for them? Or they think they're that much worse off than everyone else? Or better than the rest of us? I know it's not personal, but it sure feels personal as someone who's been there all along rooting for and encouraging them to silence. Is there such a thing as "bare minimum" engagement with your audience? Good for them I guess. I'll keep reading but if they aren't going to push past their anxiety to interact why should a commenter for nothing?

--

Is there such a thing as "bare minimum" engagement with your audience?

It's tragic how much funnier it would be to post this with no response from me at all.

(No, there's no widespread expectation that an author spend their time replying to comments. It depends on the part of fandom and a bunch of other factors. The reward from commenting is that, hopefully, the author is encouraged to post more of the thing you want to read.)

[theotherchaospixel]

so many thoughts running through my mind; just gonna spitball real quick

yeah, softlocks are no good. alternatively, you can only continue by going back to a previous time or save or checkpoint and trying again; this is back-tracking, and players might hate that even more than softlocks. also, don't wanna make it so the Orpheus player feels like they're having to protect or walk on eggshells around the Eurydice player; that's an escort mission, and is even more lowly regarded than softlocks & backtracking; i mean, team fortress 2 had an escort mission mode early in development, and it wasn't fun for this very reason: it's boring for both escortee & escorter.

that said, there are games which have made all of those types of problems interesting. stanley parable & portal comes to mind. those two examples at least use their story & dialogue to make the softlock less frustrating & more like an easter egg. bioshock infinite is one big escort mission, but your escortee can't be killed & in fact helps you a lot. team fortress itself uses the different classes & characters to make players naturally feel like they're working as a team, even though none of them particularly need to do so. legend of zelda uses weapons & tools as a prize in dungeons in order to make back-tracking feel different in technique than normal backtracking.

i'm also reminded of that one textpost i saw from forever ago which used the medium of item descriptions in RPG to imply a story, like it starts with "this blade means something to you, but you don't know what" to "your late wife's blade" as it levels up or you progress.

then there's like left 4 dead, where there's a respawn condition - if a player dies and is not saved, they can come back once a certain amount of progress is reached without them.

i'm imagining a version of this game where - as the eurydice character could conceivably die at any moment - the world is noticeably different in her absence, and noticeably different each time. like, the color red disappears when she's absent, or some puzzles require a different, much harder solution. that way, there's like... a point to the failure, but it doesn't completely negate things. it feels natural to me for it to be a horror game, where the horror is in not knowing, not having total control over the state of the game. maybe, like lethal company & some other games have done recently, include proximity chat that can just falter on its own, creating a sense of discomfort and worry based on the assumption that something bad happened. i mean, that's how the original myth goes: on the way back, they talked, but at some point, Eurydice went silent, and in his worry, Orpheus turned to look.

there also should be like a purpose for the Orpheus character: realistically, I think a lot of players would probably realize "oh, i can't look at Eurydice, but she needs to do something, so I'll just look straight down or straight up & let her do that." that's both lame & boring. so, maybe they have their own puzzles to solve, their own things to do. maybe they're not even playing the same game: maybe Orpheus is doing puzzles but Eurydice has to play a shooter, maybe Eurydice is doing platforming but Orpheus has to play a rhythm game, maybe Orpheus has to work with RPG rules but Eurydice gets free movement. definitely feels like there should be some asymmetry to the gameplay.

maybe there shouldn't be any voice chat. maybe there's story that the characters talk through, and there's things that the players can make the characters call out, but, taking a page out of journey's book, maybe it pairs up 2 players totally randomly, 2 players that may have never met before; that way there's stakes to being sure to play the game right, that way the state of the failure condition completely changes, where it stops being a failure to progress in the game & starts being a cessation of connection. i think you could get really psychological with that. you start playing the game, get paired up with someone you don't know, and continue through until one of you makes the fatal mistake of looking at each other, at which point the connection breaks and you have to live with the loss of this person you've gotten to know, gotten used to, and have to start over with someone new; your progress doesn't reset, but you - the player - are directly affected by the loss. much like the story itself. i mean, orpheus doesn't just die after losing eurydice, he doesn't lose his progress, but he does lose a connection that he may never get back.

fuck, i wanna play this now.

Here's a useless thought my head just supplied me with that I absolutely can't use.

Co-op game where if one player sees another, they die.

Both die? Just the one who does the seeing? Just the one who is seen? All players or just one crucial character? Do reflections count?

"Don't turn around. I'm right behind you. I'm going to put the mcguffin down behind you and go around the corner, I'll tell you when it's safe to turn around; let me know when you're looking away again."