#i do not want to be back on this bullshit

[smol-but-gay]

I'm an engineer. I'm currently getting my master's degree in mechanical engineering and I'm in a course called "Pattern Recognition and Machine Learning" where we have to do a group project writing and training a small programme with some kind of pattern recognition (we're doing something on using pictures of farm land and distinguishing weeds from used crops).

A dude in my group said last week "yeah, I mean we can do the actual code writing with Chat GPT, so it'll be easy and quick". And I said I was firmly against using Chat GPT for any university project, but especially coding, because a) I wanted to actually learn how to do it and b) I am morally opposed to Chat GPT and generative AI in general.

And he looked at me funny and said "if you're so against AI why are you in this course?". This is a person who has a university degree in engineering. He should know that pattern recognition is extremely useful and has been a thing for years if not decades now. This is not a new thing!

But since the rise of Chat GPT and similar shit (which is relatively new, especially with the amount of data ot has been trained on and thus the quality - which is where the moral dillema comes in) the term AI has become synonymous with EVERY KIND OF PATTERN RECOGNITION OR MACHINE LEARNING. And now everyone slaps it in there. And like OP said, you don't know what's in there. You don't know if its the good, useful AI that's been trained to do tedious tasks maybe on a level that humans can never achieve and is absolutely a technology of the future - or if it's a bullshit program that steals creative works, and lies for fun, all while reporting your personal data back to their masters.

And that, friends, is what happens when business people slap vague, misleading or straight up wrong labels on things to make more money. And it sucks.

[ramp-it-up]

Celebrate

Summary: Bucky gives you a gift for your birthday. But he gets the reward.

Word count: 2.5 K

Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

A/N: Definitely on my Bucky bullshit for a minute. Just block me now. Or, read, respond, and reblog! This is my bit of birthday self indulgence and may be based on real gift requests ;0. Love you heauxes! This is connected to Charm, and Claim, but can be read alone! I'm so down bad for these two. This has no Thunderbolts* spoilers.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Teacher Reader, Congressman Bucky, Dom!Bucky, but also Subby!Bucky, so switch! Bucky? Back/butt rugs, fingering f receiving oral, raw p in v, breeding kink, SIZE KINK, multiple orgasms, woman on top, orgasm denial, overstimulation, praise kink. begging, female masturbation, The L word!, tiny bit of the Sargeant kink, nicknames Charm and Baby, Basically pwp.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You and Bucky had a rhythm now: every other weekend.

One trip to DC, one to Brooklyn. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. This weekend was your birthday. And you wanted out of the city.

So you took the train south, and by the time you reached his townhouse, the air smelled like lemon, butter, and something just slightly burnt, because Bucky insisted on cooking and refused help.

It still tasted amazing, because he made it with something neither of you had named yet.

Love.

He leaned in the doorway, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, wearing that smug little smirk like he knew he’d already won the night. You were curled on his couch in nothing but his t-shirt, a glass of wine balanced on your thigh, and the last bite of cake melting on your tongue.

“Good birthday?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, then stretched just enough to make your point clear, your shirt, his t-shirt, riding up on your thighs a little as you groaned softly. 

“Mmm. Almost perfect.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and sauntered over, hand bracing the back of the couch, body heat curling around you.

“Almost? Baby, I cooked for you. I let you win at cards. I didn’t even complain when you dragged me through that bookstore for forty-five minutes.”

You smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. 

“And I appreciate all of that. But…”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “But?”

You set your wine down, pouting up at him just enough to play.

“I was thinking... maybe a back rub?”

He snorted. “You mean a butt rub.”

“I meant what I said.” Your tone was innocent. Your smile wasn’t. “It’s not my fault if your hands wander.”

He leaned down until his lips were brushing your temple, his voice a gravel-soft murmur.

“Sweetheart, when it’s your birthday, my hands are yours to do whatever you want with.”

His mouth found the side of your neck before you could come up with something clever to say, slow kisses trailing heat down your skin. You shivered, arching into him.

“C’mon,” he murmured, already lifting you in his arms. 

“Let me spoil you a little more.”

In the bedroom, he knelt behind you on the bed, thighs straddling yours, big hands working into your lower back beneath the hem of his shirt. His touch was slow at first, thumbs tracing your spine, palms kneading your lower back. But when your hips rolled back into him just a little too deliberately, he groaned.

“This what you had in mind, baby?” he asked, breath catching as you arched again, teasing. His hands slid lower, over the curve of your hips, then further, until he was massaging your ass like he owned it, and come to think of it, maybe he did.

You hummed. 

“Exactly what I wanted.”

His thumbs pressed into the base of your spine, but the heat in his touch betrayed him. 

He wasn't thinking about knots or tension anymore. He was thinking about the way your skin warmed under his palms. The way your hips tilted back to meet him. The little sound you made when he kneaded the underside of your butt.

“You really gonna pretend you just wanted a massage, Baby?” he murmured, mouth grazing your ear now. 

“That all you were after?”

You tilted your head to the side, giving him access, knowing exactly what that would do to him. 

“Didn’t say how I wanted it to end.”

His fingers glided from your lower back, over your beautiful ass, roving intimately. He massaged your thighs, dipping between them to rub your soft pussy through your panties, teasing.

"Turn over, Charm." His voice was a rasp. "Let me see my girl." 

Bucky flipped you gently onto your back, blue eyes dark now, his pupils blown as he looked down at you. The shirt had ridden high, and he pushed it higher, his knuckles dragging against your soft skin.  He ran his fingers over your nipples, tugging at them softly before he cupped your breasts, drawing every shiver from you.

"Open your legs." 

He ran his hands along your thighs and pulled you towards the edge of the bed. 

“I want to see that pretty pussy.”

He took his time, kissing down your torso, eyes never leaving yours until he had to close them, groaning as his mouth found the place just below your belly button, where you always shuddered for him.

“You smell so delicious,” he muttered, voice wrecked, like he was already unraveling. “You know what that does to me?”

You arched up in response, and he didn't wait. He hooked your panties down with a practiced kind of urgency, but still kissed every inch he uncovered. 

Every part of you felt claimed before he’d even touched you where you needed him most.

And when his mouth finally settled between your thighs, when his tongue licked a long, slow stripe and his hands held your hips down, your breath caught so hard it was a sob.

“Oh my god, Bucky!”

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice muffled, his mouth relentless. “Louder. I want the neighbors to know whose birthday it is.”

You were already shaking. He was too good at this, too practiced at making you fall apart for him. It was his favorite way to give. 

Not diamonds. Not champagne. Just you, undone.

Your fingers laced through his hair, pulling. He groaned into you and doubled down, like he needed it just as bad. Like this was his gift, too.

You came hard, trembling under him, his name a broken prayer on your lips. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down, just licked and sucked until you were shaking under his mouth, coming so hard it almost hurt.

Then he slid up your body, grinning. He only stopped to kiss you again, mouth slick, eyes wild, cock heavy against your thigh.

"You’re fucking stunning. I need you dripping with my cum."

He slid over you, teasing you with his thick cock as he rubbed against your folds.

“God, you’re so wet already.”

“Wonder why,” you whispered, grinning.

That earned you a low growl. Vibranium braced your hip, the other hand fisted in the sheets beside your head, and then a guttural moan ripped out of you as he eased in, taking it slow because he was so damn big. 

The sensation was overwhelming, and you trembled on the bed, breathing deeply.

“Jesus, Bucky!”

“Yeah?” he rasped, eyes locked on yours. “That what you wanted? My cock for your birthday?”

You nodded, dizzy with it, but he was already moving, already moving his hips in that perfect rhythm that made you whimper every time he pulled out only to fill you again and again. Deep, rolling thrusts, each one carving you open just right.

"Say it," he groaned. "Tell me what you need."

"You," you gasped, wrapping your legs around him. "Harder. Just don't stop."

He went slowly at first, grabbing your hair in his fist as he thrust in and out of you, stroking your squeezing pussy with his pulsing cock. You arched up against him and he gave you more, everything you could take. 

He thrust harder. Rougher. His rhythm breaking just enough to show how close he was, how much he needed this.

Bucky’s control started to fray at the edges. You could tell in the way he cursed into your neck, in the way his rhythm started to stutter, rougher now, deeper as his hips snapped into yours.

“Gonna give it to you,” he promised, and he did, he gave you everything. The weight of him, the heat, the unspoken love in every thrust. He fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him feel right.

Because you were.

You met him stroke for stroke, fingers digging into his back, nails raking as you got closer again.

“Gonna come for me again, birthday girl?” he panted, barely holding on. 

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, please, Bucky, I’m right there…”

“God, I wanna feel it. Wanna feel you squeeze me just like that, fuck, gonna cum inside you…”

And you did.

And he did.  

You shattered underneath him with a cry, body clenching tight around him, massaging the length of him in firm tugs until he lost it. He followed fast, burying himself deep as he came with a raw, broken groan that sounded like your name.

He didn't pull out right away; he was still hard.

“I want to do this all day and all night, forever, Charm.” 

You took his head in your hands and looked him in those beautiful eyes.

“Gonna give you what you need, Bucky.”

He broke, whispering a reverent, “I love you,” for the first time.

You grinned back at him and whispered it back. 

“I know. And I love you, too.”

Bucky laugh/sobbed and then proceeded to work the waves of your orgasm further, harder, until the waves of your next climax tugged tightly around his cock and he filled you with more hot bursts that made you come again. 

It was amazing.

His hands gripped you possessively, playing with your nipples and your clit, memorizing every perfect curve and groove, until you were coming yet again. Finally, he lay there, panting, his forehead pressed to yours, sweat-damp hair falling in his eyes as he kissed you like he didn’t want to let you go.

His smile turned lazy, confident, until you flipped him gently onto his back and straddled him, that same glint he wore now reflecting in your eyes.

“Did you get everything you wanted?”

“I can think of another gift I’d like…” you murmured, rolling your hips just enough to make him curse, “I want to ruin you.”

Bucky blinked up at you, caught between reverence and sheer, helpless lust.

“Jesus, Charm…”

“Do you understand, Sargeant?” you asked, dragging your nails down his chest, scraping his nipple deliciously. You took his arms and guided them above his head. 

“Now, keep your hands up here. Do. Not. Move. Understand?”

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded, voice gone, pupils blown.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“Good boy.”

You rolled your hips down against his watching the way Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, how he bit back a moan, hands twitching where you’d pinned them to the bed.

But he didn’t move. Not without permission.

You smiled, pleased, and leaned in to kiss along his throat, leaving a mark just below his jaw.

“That’s better,” you murmured. 

“All this strength, all this control, and you give it to me.”

His breath hitched. “It’s always yours.”

You sat back on his thighs. Your hand slid between your bodies, wrapping around his cock, still hot and half-hard, soaking wet with your combined fluids, and already starting to throb again beneath your touch.

“Then let me take what’s mine.”

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, until he was fully hard again, aching for it, whining softly in his throat. You watched him fall apart under you, helpless and obedient, eyes glassy with need.

“Look at you,” you whispered, lining yourself up and sinking down on him in one slow, deliberate motion. “So fucking gorgeous when you let go.”

His groan was deep, desperate, like he was barely holding on.

You rode him slowly at first, then harder when you felt him start to twitch beneath you, like he couldn’t take it anymore. You leaned in close, lips brushing his.

“Don’t come unless I say.”

He whimpered, eyes wide, and you grinned as you rolled your hips again.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “God, yes.”

You rocked harder, nails dragging down his chest again, and you felt him tremble underneath you. But he held on. Just like you told him to.

“Good boy,” you whispered, then gave him a filthy kiss. 

“Now tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” Bucky choked out. “I belong to you, Charm”

“Damn right you do.”

And then you let him break.

“Cum for me, Bucky.”

That was all it took.

The second the words left your mouth, he came with a wrecked moan, his entire body arching beneath you, cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. You didn’t slow. You kept riding him, hips grinding down to milk every last drop, your cunt squeezing him mercilessly until he was gasping for breath.

But you weren’t done.

Not even close.

His arms trembled where you still had them pinned. He looked dazed, flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

You leaned forward and kissed him, soft at first, then biting his lower lip as you clenched around him again.

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you?”

His breath caught.

“Baby, fuck, I don’t think I can…”

“You can. And you will.”

You pulled your hips up slowly, feeling his cock twitch inside you, still half hard, but oversensitive. You dragged your nails down his chest, then planted your hands on either side of his head, hips rolling with calculated precision.

“I want it again. Want to feel you get hard inside me while I use you.”

He groaned like he was in pain, but his cock was already thickening again, fighting through the aftershock to obey.

“That’s it,” you whispered, biting along his jaw. “Good fucking boy.”

You moved with ruthless grace now, your control absolute. You rode him like his only purpose was to fill you, please you, break for you. And he did. He took it all, shaking, panting, drowning in the way you fucked him.

And when you came again, clenching hard around him, moaning into his mouth, he whimpered like it hurt, and then begged to cum again.

“Please Charm, let me, please, let me come inside you again…”

You smiled wickedly.

“Not yet.”

You leaned back, hips still moving, watching the tension build in him again, watching how badly he wanted to obey. You pressed a palm to his chest, and let your free hand slip between your legs to rub your clit in tight, practiced circles, moaning shamelessly, knowing exactly what it did to him when you took control like this.

Bucky’s eyes were fixed to the spot and he bit his lip as he watched you.

And finally, when your breath started to break, when your thighs trembled and you could feel another climax building, you gave him his reward.

“Now, Bucky. Fill me.”

He shattered beneath you with a hoarse, broken cry, coming so hard it sent your orgasm crashing into you too. Your pussy clenched violently around him, drawing him deeper, milking him again as you rode both of you through it, grinding every drop out of him.

You collapsed forward, breathless and flushed, your body humming from the high of it, sweat-damp skin sticking to his.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you the second you let him, trembling and blissed out, lips finding your neck.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, voice raw. “I think you just rewired my brain. Supposed to be your birthday, not mine.”

You laughed softly, stroking his jaw, and kissed him with a slow, satisfied hum.

“Best Birthday ever.”

He smiled, boyish and ruined and beautiful. He kissed your shoulder.

“You sure? I've got more planned."

You hummed, fingers drifting down his back, nails grazing his skin.

“Hmmm. Well, we’ve got all weekend."

"Gonna give you everything you ever wanted, Charm."

"You already have, my Darling. My Bucky. My love."

[smutmind]

Fault Line

ITZY Yuna x Male Reader

Yuna swung and missed—again. The shuttlecock dropped like a dead leaf at her feet.

“You’re too stiff,” you said, stepping in before she could pout. “Loosen up.”

She turned, eyes narrowing. “I’m not stiff. You’re just a terrible coach.”

You arched a brow. “Is that right?”

Her smirk curled slow and sharp. “Prove me wrong.”

You took the racquet from her hand, letting your fingers brush hers just a little longer than needed. Then you reached around, pressing your chest lightly to her back, guiding her arm through the right motion. Shoulder relaxed. Elbow bent. Wrists fluid.

“Here,” you said quietly, “feel the difference.”

She did. You knew she did by the way her breath snagged. She tried again. This time, the shuttle flew clean across the net with a satisfying snap.

She turned, grinning like she’d won gold. “Told you. Just needed better motivation.”

“You’re lucky I get paid to be patient.”

Yuna bounced the next shuttle off her hip. “Bet I can make you lose that patience.”

The match was fast. Intense. Her legs blurred, her top clinging tighter with every point. But every time she caught up, you took the lead again. 9–6. Then 10–8. Until—

“Game,” you called, breathless but smug, watching her collapse onto the floor, hair a messy halo.

“Bullshit,” she groaned, chest rising fast. “You played dirty.”

You walked over, offering your hand. “You set the rules, Yuna.”

She took it, letting you pull her up slow, bodies close. Her eyes didn’t blink.

“You know what I wanted,” she whispered.

“And I know what I want,” you murmured, brushing her wrist. “You lost. So now you’re mine.”

She stiffened—then smiled. “That’s not how bets work.”

“Sure it is. You don’t get what you want. But I take what I do.”

Your hand slid behind her waist, firm. She didn’t pull back.

“Shower,” you said, voice low. “My place. Ten minutes. You’ll learn a new kind of discipline.”

Yuna’s hand on your wrist stopped you cold.

“Why wait?” she murmured, eyes dark and hungry. “The shower room’s closer.”

You didn’t ask twice.

She backed through the doorway, bare feet silent on tile. The lights buzzed overhead, softened by steam rising from already-running faucets. Her sports bra clung to her, dark with sweat. Her chest rose and fell, and when her hands slipped under the hem, you watched every inch of skin she revealed.

The bra landed on the bench. Her breasts were high, flushed, damp at the curves. Her nipples peaked under the cold burst of water she stepped into, her breath hitching as the spray hit her spine.

“Coming?” she asked, tilting her head.

You stripped fast. Shirt, shorts, briefs—forgotten in a pile. She watched with a slow blink, lips parting when she saw how ready you were for her.

The moment your hands touched her waist, she exhaled. Heat pulsed between your bodies, even under the cool spray. You pressed her to the tile, mouths crashing again, no space, no room to think.

She moaned into your mouth, lifting one leg around your waist. Her thigh clenched. You reached down, palmed her ass, and she jerked forward—slick, eager, grinding against you. The friction made her gasp.

“Don’t tease,” she whispered, biting your lip.

You guided yourself against her, sliding between her legs, slow enough to hear the frustration in her throat.

Then you pushed in.

Her head hit the wall, fingers locking around your neck. Her breath left in a shudder. You grunted as she took you deep, tight and hot, her body arching to keep every inch inside.

You moved.

The slap of skin, the rush of water, the wet grind of hips meeting hips. She rocked with you, nails in your back, curses spilling from her lips between stifled moans. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples dragging against your chest.

She cried out when you hit deep, her back curling. You grabbed her thighs, lifted, pinned her harder.

“Right there—don’t stop—right—” She broke, convulsing around you, voice lost in a raw, keening cry.

You groaned. The pulse hit hard, rising up your spine, crashing out of you with one last, deep thrust. Your breath caught as you spilled into her, the moment drawn out, slow, shaking.

You stayed like that—pressed together, water cascading down both your bodies, steam thick around you.

Yuna laughed, breathless. “You’re... gonna have to coach me more often.”

You kissed her shoulder, teeth dragging.

The water still poured over you both—lukewarm now, mist curling around your legs like smoke.

Yuna leaned back against the tile, breathing hard. Her eyes flicked down between your bodies, still pressed close.

“You came hard,” she said, voice low and hoarse. “Think you’ve got anything left?”

You tilted her chin up. “That depends.”

She sank slowly to her knees.

Steam coiled around her as she slid her hands down your thighs, fingers grazing skin still pulsing from release. Her eyes didn’t leave yours—not even as she kissed the spot just above your hipbone.

“You won,” she murmured. “Let me commemorate the match.”

Her tongue traced upward, warm against wet skin. You twitched in her grip, already stiffening again. She smiled at that, small and smug.

She took her time. Every stroke of her hand was slow. Every flick of her tongue deliberate, coaxing you back with soft, wet sounds that echoed faintly in the tiled room. She didn’t rush. Didn’t talk. Just worked—mouth, lips, tongue—while the water ran down her back and her hair stuck to her cheeks.

Your hand found the back of her head. She let you guide her.

Her rhythm built fast. Tight suction. Wet heat. One hand cradled your base, the other braced her on the slick floor. She made you feel every inch of her mouth—every shift, every deep glide until your knees locked and breath cut short.

“Fuck—Yu..” you hissed, hips jerking.

She took it. Moaned around you. And when you finally broke—gasping, twitching���she stayed there, swallowing deep, then pulling back with a pop and a satisfied smile.

She stood, licking her lips as she turned off the shower.

“Now that,” she said, grabbing a towel, “was a full-body workout.”

You caught her wrist, pulling her close for one last kiss.

“Trophy-worthy,” you whispered.

She smirked. “Just wait for the awards ceremony.”

[dragoneyelashart]

just friends 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

authors note: sorry to twist the knife twice, i looove angst

warnings: angst, love for someone in a relationship

you think about her more than you'd ever admit.

not in the obvious ways, not in the blushing, giggly, teenage-daydream kind of way. no—your love for billie sits deeper. it’s tucked into the corners of your bones, resting beneath your ribs, pressed tight and hidden like something shameful. like something sacred.

every time you text her “i love you,” you mean it like a scream underwater. muffled. desperate. never loud enough to breach the surface. never meant to be heard in the way your heart intends it. she always texts it back—"love you more 💕"—like it’s easy. like it doesn’t tear anything open.

you wonder what she’d do if she knew. if she saw the way your hands shake when her name lights up your phone. if she knew how many nights you’ve fallen asleep picturing what her mouth might taste like between i love you and goodnight.

today is one of those days where you’re trying to forget. you’re doing errands. folding laundry. pretending you’re fine. and then her text comes through:

billie 💕: come over?

your heart drops.

you don’t even hesitate. everything else evaporates.

you: "rn? ok give me 5"

you throw on the first hoodie you find, barely register the color. it's hers—she lent it to you months ago and never asked for it back. it still smells like her. you don’t let yourself think about that too long. you just grab your keys, tell someone in your house you’ll be back soon, and leave. you don’t know what you’re going over for, but it doesn’t matter. it never matters. when it’s billie, it’s always yes. always.

the drive feels like nothing and forever all at once. your fingers tremble on the wheel. you’re trying to calm your breathing, trying not to imagine her answering the door in a tank top and sleepy eyes, the way she always does. you try not to imagine what it would be like if she pulled you in by the collar, whispered something soft and wrecking against your cheek.

you hate yourself a little for it. for wanting more. for being so goddamn pathetic about her.

you pull into her driveway, and your stomach sinks.

her girlfriend’s car is already there.

you swallow it down. no. you don’t get to be upset. she’s allowed to be happy. she’s allowed to love someone. it’s not your place. it’s never been your place.

you put your best smile on—it feels like pressing broken glass into your cheeks.

billie opens the door with that same grin, the one that used to make you feel like the world was okay. like maybe she was your safe place. she’s barefoot, hair in a messy bun, skin glowing. “hey!” she beams. “you got here so fast.”

“you said come over.” you shrug, try to laugh it off. “you know i’d drop anything.”

her girlfriend’s on the couch. you recognize her—pretty, sharp-jawed, the kind of girl who always knows what to say in a group. she waves politely and offers a tight smile.

you smile back, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

they're watching some show, talking about nothing, laughing in the way couples do. you sit off to the side, legs tucked under you, trying not to shrink into yourself.

billie tosses a blanket at you like she always does, like she knows you're cold even when you don't say it out loud. it should feel like home. instead, it burns.

at some point, her girlfriend gets up to use the bathroom. billie turns to you immediately, eyes narrowing.

“okay,” she says quietly. “spill.”

your heart jumps. “what?”

“don’t play dumb. i’ve known you my whole life, y/n. something’s up. you’re breathing weird. are you okay?”

you almost say it.

you almost say, i can’t stand watching you love someone else.

you almost say, i’m in love with you and it’s killing me.

instead, you shake your head. “nothing’s wrong.”

“bullshit.” she leans in closer. you can feel the heat of her next to you, the way your body reacts on instinct, like you’re drawn to her by gravity alone. “you always get this look when you’re upset. like your heart's too heavy for your chest.”

you want to cry.

you want to grab her by the shoulders and scream. tell her that she’s everything. that she’s the reason you get out of bed some mornings. that no one’s ever made you feel more like yourself and less like enough all at once.

but instead, you say, “i’m just tired.”

she stares at you for a second too long. like she’s trying to read between the cracks. like she’s waiting for something.

“you sure?” she whispers.

you nod.

you think your lungs might collapse.

she reaches out and squeezes your hand. just a second. just a flicker of touch. but it wrecks you.

you look down at your knees, suddenly too aware of how your hoodie smells like her. how it still feels like something sacred and stolen.

her girlfriend comes back and billie pulls her hand away, just like that. like it never meant anything.

because to her, it didn’t.

the three of you sit there for another twenty minutes. laughing. making dumb jokes. pretending this isn’t hell. and when you finally stand up to leave, your legs barely hold you.

“text me when you get home,” billie says. “you know i worry.”

you nod again. you can’t speak. if you open your mouth, something might come out that you’ll never be able to take back.

you get to the door. her girlfriend’s in the kitchen. billie follows you, just for a second, hand brushing your wrist.

“hey,” she says softly. “you know i love you, right?”

it hits you like a truck. she doesn’t mean it the way you do. she never has.

you force a smile. it feels like something’s breaking.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i know.”

you turn to go, and she says it behind you—

"thank you, y/n. you're such a good friend to me."

you don’t remember walking to your car.

your feet move but you’re not in them. your body goes through the motions—unlock, slide in, start the engine—but your head is somewhere else. still on the doorstep. still in her eyes. still in the echo of that fucking sentence.

“thank you, y/n. you’re such a good friend to me.”

you’ve heard her say i love you a hundred times. sometimes in texts. sometimes whispered during late-night phone calls. sometimes at sleepovers when you were half-asleep and warm under the same blanket. it always meant something.

but tonight—it meant nothing.

or maybe it meant everything.

just not the kind of everything you wanted it to.

you pull out of her driveway too fast. you’re shaking. the streetlights blur. your vision goes glassy. you blink hard, but it’s no use.

you’re crying before you’ve even turned the first corner.

not the loud kind. not the sobs that shake your whole body. this is different. it’s quiet. it’s shameful. it’s all your ribs caving in at once. it’s your throat closing up like it’s trying to save you from speaking the truth out loud.

you drive in silence.

no music.

no noise.

just the sound of your own breath stuttering in the dark.

you don’t go home. not yet. you can’t. you wouldn’t know how to walk into your house and pretend you’re okay. not like this. not when everything inside you feels like it’s splintered.

you pull into the parking lot of some random grocery store. leave your engine running. sit there in the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlight, clutching the sleeves of the hoodie like it’s a lifeline.

her hoodie.

her scent.

her warmth.

her name pounding in your chest.

you press your forehead to the steering wheel and finally let it all go.

the tears come harder now. like your body’s been waiting. like your heart’s had enough of holding everything in. you sob into the silence, mouth open, breath hitching, hands trembling.

why did you have to love her like this?

why couldn’t it just be enough to be her friend?

you would’ve done anything for her.

anything.

but you never stood a chance. not against someone like her girlfriend. someone beautiful. someone bold. someone who could touch her in all the ways you weren’t allowed to. someone who didn’t flinch when billie leaned in close. someone who didn’t fall apart every time she said i love you like a knife disguised as kindness.

you squeeze your eyes shut and try to rewind it all. try to pretend you never came over. that you stayed home. that you never saw the way billie’s hand fit into her girlfriend’s so easily. that you didn’t hear the words that finally killed the last stupid hope you were clinging to.

“you’re such a good friend to me.”

you’ve been her friend your whole life.

and now, it feels like a prison you built yourself.

you want to hate her. god, it would be so much easier if you could. if she were cruel. if she strung you along on purpose. but she didn’t. she just… loved you the only way she knew how.

and it wasn’t the way you needed.

your phone buzzes beside you. you already know who it is.

billie 💕: did you make it home safe?

you stare at the message for a long time. thumbs hovering over the screen. there’s a pressure building in your chest like a scream you’re not allowed to let out.

you type.

you: yeah. thanks.

you don’t say i love you. not this time.

you just toss your phone onto the passenger seat and let your head fall back against the headrest. your eyes are still wet. your heart’s still breaking. your hands are clenched into fists around the fabric of her hoodie like maybe, if you hold on tight enough, you won’t completely come undone.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @ifnot-foryou @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns | send me an ask or comment if you want to be added or removed from my taglist!

[pascallftv]

not a fair fight

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

summary: steve covers for robin at the hawkins fair. unfortunately for him, your booth is right across from his. he’s going to make you spit that gum out one way or another.

warnings: very brief discussion of weight (not towards reader), steve is an asshole, reader is a brat, brat taming, forced proximity kinda, enemies to lovers if you squint, f!oral, unprotected p in v, fingering, dom!steve lowkey, missionary, doggystyle, cock warming

word count: 5.6k

Steve hadn’t wanted to work the fair. He would have rathered to be at Tommy’s back to school party, but here he was, stationed under a rickety tent at the Hawkins fairgrounds, sweat beading on his forehead and gathering at the small of his back.

He wasn’t thinking when he made that deal with Robin.

Steve had struck a deal with Robin that if she watched the Family Video counter for him while he scattered off to help the kids for a couple days, that he’d do whatever she conjured up as payback for him.

In her case, it was Steve covering her shifts at the Guess Your Height and Weight booth for the entirety of the county fair. It was a bullshit deal really. It wasn’t like two shifts at Family Video even came close to an entire weekend at the fair, but Steve had no choice. A deal was a deal, and he wasn’t one to break his promise.

“How much you think I weigh, Harrington?”

Steve’s arms were crossed, his facial expression disinterested and borderline appalled. In front of him stood some girl he’d seen at a couple of Tommy’s parties, but her name was a mystery to him. Her blonde hair cascaded down her exposed back, her clothing leaving little to nothing to the imagination.

Steve mumbled out a random number monotone. He couldn’t care to actually guess, and quite frankly, he didn’t give a shit either way.

The girl gasped and crossed her arms. Her boyfriend stood behind her, his eyebrows furrowing. He stepped forward, wallowing his tongue around in his mouth for a second before spitting at Steve’s shoes.

“What the fuck, man?” Steve grunted, stepping back from the pissed off boyfriend billowing in front of him.

“Let’s go, baby.” He snapped, grabbing the girl’s hand and escorting her away from the booth.

“Hey! That’s two dollars!” Steve called after them. The boyfriend turned his head and flashed him a middle finger in response.

Steve sighed heavily and looked down at the wad of spit running across his shoe. His eyes flickered up and found you sat in a lawn chair, your leg propped up over the arm of the chair, swinging haphazardly. You looked up at him over the top of your book, smacking gum between your cherry lips, a taunting grin pulling at them.

“Smooth, Harrington.” You said, looking back down at your book and flipping a page.

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed the towel off of the table tucked back in the tent and began wiping at his shoe. His eyes flicked up to you inside your booth. You were surrounded by a multitude of makeup products that he had no idea what they were. In his eyes it was all fucking junk.

“How many tubes of lip balm have you sold, baby cakes?” Steve called out to you. Your head didn’t move, just your eyes as you looked back up to him.

“None of your business.” You said, your voice bored and unamused.

“No one’s going to buy that shit.” He continued, grunting as he lowered his foot from the table.

You stared back at him, deciding whether or not you wanted to get up and strangle him or set fire to his booth with a flame torch. You were under the impression that Robin would be across from you all weekend, but much to your disappointment, it was Man Whoreington instead. You’d always fucking despised him ever since you moved to Hawkins two years ago.

A group of middle school aged girls hurried into your booth, squealing in excitement at all the products for sale.

“I’ll take one of each.” One of the girls said, smacking a one hundred dollar bill down on the table in front of you. You gazed up at her, then over to Steve, whose eyes were as big as saucers.

“Sure thing, baby cakes.” You bit back a smile.

It was absolutely ridiculous. Steve watched in awe as girls crowded your booth, the cash flowing.

“What was that you were saying, Harrington?” You cocked a smile as you packaged up the girl’s products. Steve ran his tongue across the front of his teeth and shook his head.

You blew a bubble with your gum as you waved the girls along, then sat back in your lawn chair, propping your legs up on a box. Steve had always been a douche to you, and you weren’t sure why. You’d always been nothing but nice to him, and you were especially nice to Nancy and Jonathan, as well as those boys you always saw Steve babysitting.

Your eyes were locked on your book as a figure loomed over the table in front of you. A throat cleared, and you lifted your eyes. Steve leaned down on the table, a strand of his brown hair falling over his forehead. Your gaze traced up from the moles on his neck to his hazel eyes.

“Can I help you?” You mumbled, looking back down at your book.

Steve's eyes trailed from your smug face, to your chest, then down to your bare thighs where your denim shorts had ridden up.

You didn’t move, just smacked your gum— sharp, loud, and completely on purpose.

“Jesus christ.” He muttered, straightening his back. “Can you not chew like a fucking cow for five minutes?”

You blinked up at him, your gaze innocent. “Something bothering you, Harrington?”

“Yes. That sound. It’s like—“ He mimicked the gum smacking sound with his teeth and tongue, his mouth opening in an exaggerated, and quite obnoxious, chomp. “That. It’s giving me a fucking migraine.”

You tilted your head and ran your teeth along your bottom lip, stretching your arms up over your head, exposing a bit of your belly. “Free will.”

“What?” Steve spat.

You sat up slightly and leaned your arms on the table. “It’s called free will, Stevie. You can walk away whenever you want.”

Steve laughed under his breath, running a hand through his wavy hair. “Believe me, I want to. But just our luck I’m stuck across your glitter and bumble gum empire this entire weekend. Gotta make sure you don’t choke everyone out with your raging estrogen.”

You smiled devilishly and grabbed a lock of your hair, twirling it around your finger. “Aww, Stevie. You watching me, then?”

“Would be hard to miss ya, all the chewing and—“ he motioned to your body, “everything.”

You popped another bubble, this one even louder and wetter than the last. You let it snap, then slurped the gum back into your mouth with a wink.

“Fascinating.” You spoke monotone.

Steve’s hands dropped to his hips, clearly running out of patience. “Spit it out.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“The gum. Spit it out. Before I do it for you.”

Your pulse quickened at his words. Not because you were intimidated, more just… heated. Not heated in a pissed off way, but in the kind that made your cheeks hot and in the way you wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging.

You rolled the gum to the side of your mouth. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He leaned forward again, both palms braced on the table of your booth, his face inches from yours now.

“Depends.” He said softer. “You always this bratty or do I just bring it out of you?”

Your smirk didn’t fade, but you didn’t answer him. Maybe he was right, but you’d never admit that to him. And perhaps you wanted to see how far you could push this.

Just your luck, you watched a group of guys walk up to the Height and Weight booth across the way. You dramatically sighed and shook your head.

“Maybe if you can guess their weights correctly I’ll tell you.” You gestured towards the guys and leaned back in your chair, this time kicking your feet up on the table.

Steve turned his head and noticed the group, and you swear you could see the steam beginning to roll out of his ears. He clocked them immediately. They were the jocks that took over after he graduated. The kind you used to flirt with in school.

One of them waved from across the way, and you waved back, extra slow and sweet. Making sure Steve was watching, you blew them a kiss. You heard him mutter something under his breath. Then you watched his jaw tense so tight you thought all his teeth would break.

“Aww, don’t pout. You’ll get wrinkles.” You teased, drumming your fingernails against the back of your book.

“You’re not cute.” He snapped, not even looking at you.

“You sure about that?”

His head whipped towards you. He leaned back over the table, this time so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Keep pushing, sweetheart. And you’ll find out exactly how uncute I think you are.”

You popped your gum again just to spite him. Then slow and daring, you plucked the gum from your lips, holding the sticky pink blob between your fingers.

“Here, since it bothers you so much.” You said, extending it towards him.

He managed to get even closer, and grabbed your wrist. “Next time I tell you to spit it out, I won’t be so polite.”

You blinked, your pulse rising up your throat. Then, he let you go, turned, and stalked back to his booth.

You sat there, hand still half-raised, gum dangling from your fingers. Suddenly you weren’t feeling so smug.

The fair shut down for the night around eleven, the loudspeaker croaking its final calls. The lights began to dim across the fairgrounds, and the soft hum of generators filled the background with white noise.

You were back at your camper, freshly showered, bare-legged and barefoot, your cami clinging to you in the summer heat. You’d tossed your book aside half an hour ago. You couldn’t focus, not with this heat. Not with the constant vision replaying of your mind of Steve leaned towards you, his voice, his grip.

Then the music started.

Steve’s camper was close, too close. The walls were paper thin, and when he cranked the volume on some Billy Idol song, it vibrated the walls. You clenched your jaw.

You gave it five more minutes.

Then you slammed the door behind you and stormed the ten feet to his. You didn’t knock. You banged. Hard.

The music didn’t stop, but the door swung open a moment later. Steve stood there in shorts, shirtless, and his hair damp like he just showered. A towel was hung around his neck, and a smug grin toyed at his mouth like he had been expecting you any moment.

“What?” He cooed, like he had no idea what could’ve possibly inspired you to knock at his camper at almost midnight.

“Turn it down.”

“No.”

“Seriously?” You crossed your arms in disbelief.

“Seriously.” He leaned a shoulder against the frame of the door, deliberately relaxed. “Unless you came over to apologize for being a brat all night.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You were the one being a brat. You grabbed my arm.”

“Because you don’t listen.”

You scoffed. “You don’t scare me, Harrington.”

“Didn’t say I was trying to.”

But the way he said it, quiet and low, made your heart hammer against your chest. He watched your face shift, and something unreadable passed over his expression.

“You still chewing that gum?” He asked.

You blinked and wallowed your gum to the side of your mouth. “Maybe.”

“I’m serious. I’ll take that shit out of your mouth myself this time.”

Your breath caught.

A tense beat of silence passed between you, you standing there gawking at him in the low glow of the camper light. You hated how good he looked like this, casual, smug, and shirtless.

“You done staring?” He taunted.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

You turned on your heel and walked back to your camper, trying not to let your knees buckle. His music continued in the background.

That didn’t stop you from laying in your bunk for the next hour, wide awake. The music finally stopped an hour ago, but you were still unable to sleep. You chewed haphazardly on your gum, blowing bubbles every few minutes.

You were half asleep when the knock came. It wasn’t loud or aggressive, just three measured raps against the door. You sat up slowly. The clock read 12:59 a.m. You padded barefoot to the door and cracked it open.

Steve stood there, this time with a t-shirt pulled over his head. He looked tired and less smug than earlier.

You blinked up at him. “You lost or something?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

You raised a brow. “So you thought bothering me might help?”

“Yeah, actually.” He leaned an arm against the door frame. “Look.. you piss me off.”

“You piss me off too. Why does this concern me at one o’clock in the morning?”

Silence. It was strange, seeing him like this. Quiet, no booth, no crowd, no one to impress. Just Steve.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

You hesitated for a second, and against your better judgement, you stepped aside.

The camper was cramped. One bench, one tiny sink, and a bed pressed against the far wall.

Steve moved slowly, ducking his head as he stepped inside. He didn’t say anything for a moment and looked around, then sat on the bench like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

You leaned against the sink, arms crossed. “So now what?”

Steve looked up at you, eyes shadowed and unreadable. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? The part where you threatened me, or the part where you said I’m not cute?”

His jaw ticked.

“The part where I said you don’t listen. And the part where I said I’d take the gum out of your mouth myself.”

Your breath hitched.

He stood slowly.

“You’ve been acting like you want me to lose it.”

You stayed where you were, your pulse rapidly increasing. “And what if I do?”

His mouth twitched.

Then he crossed the room in two big strides and backed you against the sink. One hand planted beside your hip, the other grazing the strap of your cami.

“Then I guess it’s not a fair fight, is it?” He murmured.

Then he kissed you. Hard.

Your teeth clacked, and you tasted like bubblegum and he tasted like cherry cola. His fingers curled under your jaw as your hands bunched at the bottom of his shirt. He pressed you back until the countertop dug into your lower back, and you made a noise in the back of your throat that made him groan into your mouth.

He pulled back just long enough to whisper, his breath hot against your lips:

“Told you I’d shut you up.”

And then he kissed you again, like he was mad at you. For every eye roll, every gum smack, every moment you’d made his life hell. And god, you kissed him right back, like you’d been waiting all fucking day for this.

Steve’s hands were everywhere at once. He squeezed your waist, your hips, the backs of your thighs. He lifted you onto the edge of the counter like you weighed nothing, his mouth never leaving yours. You parted your knees around his hips, the camper creaking beneath the sudden shift in weight.

“This what you wanted?” He muttered against your lips. “Me losing my shit?”

You grinned against his lips as you panted. “Took you long enough.”

Steve chuckled once, his voice low and gravelly. He grabbed your jaw and tilted your face so he could take you in with his eyes.

“I want to take that fucking gum out of your mouth.” He said.

You wallowed the gum from the side of your mouth and went to reach for it, but he caught your wrist in his hand.

“No, I’ll take it out.”

Then he was kissing you again, this time tougher. His tongue swiped the gum from your lips, taking it for himself, then pulled away just enough to spit the gum into the sink beside you.

You gawked at him, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen.

Steve grinned. “There. Better.”

You reached for him this time, yanking him by the front of his shirt to wrap your legs back around his waist. He groaned when he felt how hot you were against him. You rocked against him, slow and taunting.

“Still think I’m not cute?” You whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe.

He let out a strangled laugh and slid his hands under your cami and over your bare skin. “No. I think you’re a fucking problem.”

“Well, you gonna solve it then?”

He didn’t answer, at least not with words.

Steve grabbed the hem of your cami and pulled it up over your head, and tossed it over his shoulder. His mouth went straight to your chest, his tongue flicking across your nipple. One hand reached behind your back to arch your closer.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him whimper.

“So fucking full of attitude.” He muttered against your skin.

You leaned back, watching through heavy eyelids as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his fingers trailing down your thighs, thumbs brushing against the waistband of your shorts.

“What are you going to do about it, Harrington?”

“Going to teach you a lesson.” He said.

He hooked his fingers in your shorts and dragged them down agonizingly slow. His smirk grew bigger as he watched your breath hitch.

“You gonna tell me how much you hate me?”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. The look you gave him, your eyelids heavy, lips parted, and your body leaning into his every touch told him everything he needed to know.

Steve’s hands were rough on your thighs, his thumbs digging in as he pulled you close to the edge of the counter. He traced hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, his teeth dragging just enough to make your grip claw into the edge of the counter.

“Still seem a little bratty.” He said, then landed his mouth on your mound from the outside of your panties.

You sucked in air as his fingers looped into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs, dropping them to the floor. Your brows furrowed in awe as you watched him take in the sight of your bare pussy.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, and reached a finger up to your folds, and ran a finger along the length of you, your arousal coating it.

You whined, titling your head over onto your shoulder as you watched his facial expression grow more concentrated. You sucked in a sharp breath and Steve’s mouth came down on you, his tongue licking an agonizing stripe up your heat, gathering your wetness. Suddenly his finger found your opening, prodding at it for a moment before pressing into you. You let out a gasp and jolted, your head tilting back at the intrusion.

He hummed against your folds, his tongue finding its way to your clit, flicking fast against it as his finger began to pump in a consistent rhythm in and out of you. You sighed deeply, a soft moan leaving your lips as his finger curled perfectly inside of you, teasing as your spongy g-spot. Steve added another finger, spreading you open wider. You whined out, your hand coming down to latch onto his hair. His mouth worked harder against your clit, the pleasure winding tight in your lower abdomen.

He pumped his fingers faster, curling them in perfect rhythm. You whined when he pulled his mouth away, but only missed the sensation briefly as his free thumb came down to circle your clit.

“Fuck.” You sputtered out, your pussy clenching at the added pressure.

“I can feel you squeezing my fingers.” Steve murmured, staring up at you through hooded eyes.

You panted heavily, the knot in your lower belly winding tighter at his words. He was relentless, his thumb still working magic circles and his fingers pounding into you with great speed.

Your orgasm hit you unexpectedly, your breath leaving your throat, your cheeks flushing hotter and your toes curled behind Steve’s back.

“That’s it.” He urged, fingering you through your orgasm, your come coating his knuckles.

You rode out your high, your eyes clenching shut in pleasure. You breathed out through your nose as you felt Steve’s touch leave you. He stood up between your legs his hand snaking up your belly to your nipple, giving it a gentle pinch.

“Still smug.” He murmured against the skin of your tit. “Even with my mouth between your legs.”

You didn’t laugh, still trying to catch your breath and regain your vision.

And then he stopped talking. You heard the rustle of fabric against skin, and you realized Steve was taking off his t-shirt. Then his fingers looped into the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down his thighs, exposing his erect cock. He wasn’t wearing boxers, just his short shorts. You stared down at him in awe, his tip leaking and angry. His hand fell to his length, pumping it in slow strokes, his gaze falling from your tits to your pussy, which was practically dripping, your arousal threatening to drop onto the floor.

“Cat got your tongue, baby cakes?” Steve grunted, his fingers sliding up your heat and landing on your sensitive clit, giving it a pinch.

You gasped, your thighs clenching together.

“Nuh uh.” Steve growled, his hands coming down to spread your legs back open. “These.. stay open.”

“Steve, fuck.” You said breathlessly, looking down at his erection. He was bigger than you expected, much to your surprise.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re going to forget how to talk. Forget how to chew that stupid fucking gum.” Steve grumbled.

You watched through tired eyes as Steve ran his length against the inside of your thigh, teasing your core. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched your eyebrows furrow.

“What do you need?” He said, his voice low. His tip was ghosting over your folds now, your arousal mixing with his precum.

“Mmm, fuck.” You tilted your head back as he nicked your clit that was still too sensitive from your orgasm.

Suddenly Steve’s hand slapped your ass hard, your body jolting from the sudden hit.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, your legs tightening around Steve’s hips unwillingly.

“I said.” He leaned closer, his breath fanning over your lips. “What do you need?”

“Need you to fuck me.” You whispered, trying to close the gap between your mouths to kiss him, but he pulled away an inch to tease you.

“Hmm, couldn’t quite hear that. Might need to say it a bit louder.” Steve taunted you. Goosebumps littered your skin as his hand that was haphazardly stroking his cock trailed down to your clit, your legs jolting as he began to slowly rub in gentle circles.

“I-I need you.. to f-fuck me.” You struggled, your thighs clenching around his hand, but his assault didn’t stop.

He rubbed faster circles, this time he closed the gap between your mouths, and kissed you intensely. His teeth took your bottom lip, and he bit down slightly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to assert his power over you, even in a kiss. Then his tongue was against yours, tasting every bit of your mouth, running along your teeth. It was disgusting really, having him consume in such a thorough way, but you didn’t care. You needed more.

His tip prodded at your entrance, your pussy now throbbing from the lack of intrusion. His finger slowed on your clit, and you awaited the feeling of him stretching you. His free hand reached up to one of your nipples, giving it a gentle squeeze before slowly rolling his hips towards yours, his tip breaching your opening, the stretch radiating deep in your belly. Your head fell back in a moan, and Steve took this as an opportunity to litter kisses from your throat down to your chest, taking your nipple in his mouth.

He rocked his hips into yours, his length pumping in and out of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his length. You hadn’t had sex in months, and even then, your partner hadn’t been this big. This was uncharted territory and you feared after tonight, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to find someone who’d compare to this.

“Feels so good.” Steve grunted as he thrusted into you, his hands traveling all over you.

His hands squeezed at your breasts, then trailed down to your ass to squeeze the flesh of your cheeks, spreading them a bit, before finding their way to your thighs. You panted heavily over the sound of skin slapping, and basked in the feeling of Steve’s breath fanning over the sensitive pebbles of your nipples.

Suddenly Steve was pulling out of you, and you whimpered from the emptiness between your legs. He stepped back, and began lazily stroking his length again. He tilted his head toward the bed.

“Go get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” He demanded. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and your eyes trailed from his face, down the hair on his chest to his trimmed pubes, then to his hand wrapped around his cock.

You obeyed his orders and ambled over to the bed. You did as you were told and got on your hands and knees, your ass perched up in the air, your holes on display for him. Steve groaned at the sight of your drenched pussy catching the dim glow of the lamp as he got closer to you.

You exhaled shakily as Steve’s hands found their way to your ass, spreading the flesh to get a better look at you. Your brows furrowed when you felt his hot breath on your folds, and sharply inhaled when his tongue lapped up your arousal, brushing your clit.

Without warning, Steve was pushing back into you, not taking it slow at all. He fully sheathed himself in you, his girth stretching you once again. You gasped and grabbed a fistful on the sheet, your tits bouncing from his rapid thrusts.

“Jesus—“ You said between thrusts. “Christ.”

“Been wanting to fuck you like this all day.” Steve breathed out, leaning down so his chest was pressed to your back.

His hand snaked around your shoulders to lightly cup the front of your throat. He gave the sides of your throat a gentle squeeze, resulting in your pussy clenching down around him.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” He said, his hand repeating its movement.

You whined, your back arching into his front. You were like a bitch in heat, and the sounds of wet skin slapping permeated the air. Never in a million years did you expect to be bent over by Steve Harrington, let alone loving it this much.

“I’m g-gonna come again.” You stammered, you lowered the side of your face into the mattress, Steve’s hands spreading your ass again to watch his length disappear and reappear from your entrance.

“Come on, baby. Let me feel it.” Steve said, a hand trailing down to your clit, rubbing gentle circles.

You whined out at the added pressure, your lower belly tying knot after knot. You flexed your calves, feeling the pleasure beginning to heat up deep inside you. Your next orgasm washed over you, your vision becoming fuzzy as every muscle in your body clenched. Your breath caught in your throat, and your grip tightened even more on the sheets.

“That’s it.” Steve muttered, his finger working your clit through your orgasm.

Your orgasm subsided, and your chest heaved in heavy pants as you came down from your high. Your senses were back, and Steve’s finger on your clit was about to make you scream.

Your hand swatted his hand away from between your thighs, and you groaned as his other hand gripped the flesh of your hip tighter.

Steve pulled out of you again, holding himself off from his release. He wanted this moment to last forever, and he wasn’t done with you quite yet.

“Lay on your back for me.” Steve said, his tone less demanding and softer.

You rolled over, and scooted yourself towards the head of the small bed, resting your head against your pillow. Steve climbed onto the bed and onto his knees, positioning himself between your legs.

“You on the pill?” Steve asked as he lowered himself over you.

“Yes.” You said, your arms reached up to cup his face, pulling his face down into a firm kiss.

Steve took the moment to sheath himself back inside you, your mouth parting. You would never get used to the feeling of him inside of you, and you’re not sure you ever want that feeling to stop. Steve fucked into you steadily, his skin slapping against yours.

His mouth left yours and trailed back down to your chest, his mouth working on one nipple while his free hand squeezed your other tit. Your head felt back against the mattress, your eyes rolling back at the new angle.

With every thrust you could feel his cock rutting up almost to your cervix, your g-spot being stimulating perfectly.

“God, you’re driving me fucking crazy.” Steve panted as he fucked into you faster. He was close, and he was shamelessly chasing his high.

“I hate how good this feels.” You said, your voice sounding almost drunk. You were half present mentally, your orgasms taking most of your energy.

“Yeah?” He bent down and rested his forehead against yours. “Want me to stop?”

“No.” You spat out quickly.

“Didn’t think so.” He said, and his mouth was on you again, this time sucking on the flesh of your neck like a vampire, his teeth working against your skin.

He wanted to mark you. He wanted those jocks to know you were already claimed and were off limits. He wanted you for himself.

“Not going to last much longer.” Steve sputtered, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more staggered.

Your nipples hardened as you felt the coil tightening again in your core, your third orgasm drawing closer. One of your hands trailed between you, finding your clit. Steve leaned up a bit to give you more room, one hand gripping your waist and the other squeezing the flesh of your ass. He took in the sight of you underneath him, your cheeks flushed, your tits bouncing with every rock of his hips, your fingers working in messy circles around your clit as you chased your high once again.

“That’s it, come for me again.” Steve panted.

He was dangerously close. He was feeling his lower belly beginning to tighten. Any second his muscles were going to betray him and let his high overcome him.

Your third orgasm hit you hard, and you involuntarily whimpered, your body shaking as it overcame you. Your toes curled and your back arched, and your hearing went fuzzy. Steve followed suit, his release shooting hot spurts deep into you, his lower abdomen clenching through his orgasm. He whined, feeling your walls clamp down on him, milking every last ounce of his seed into you.

Your high slowly faded, and you were still trying to catch your breath. Your skin was flushed and damp and Steve laid on top of you, his legs intertwined with yours, his cock softening inside of you. Steve’s chest rose and fell against yours, one of his arms draped lazily by your head, his fingertips toying with the ends of your hair.

Neither of you said anything for a long while.

Outside, the fair grounds were silent. No rides creaking, not fair-goers in sight, no sound of Steve’s music blaring. Just the two of you trying to catch your breath.

You finally shifted, just enough to look down at him, his face pressed to your chest. His eyes were open, looking off into the camper, like something was on his mind.

“You okay?” You asked, voice low.

He blinked, then shifted to look up at you. His hand moved to your face, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah. Just wasn’t.. expecting that.”

A tired smile tugged at your lips. “Which part? Where you spit out my gum for me or the part where you fucked me and liked it?”

Steve huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You’re exhausting.” He muttered, but his voice was soft and fond in a way that made your chest ache a little.

“Seriously though. If you regret it and never want to speak to me again, I get it.” You tucked an arm under your head and watched his face.

His eyes narrowed slightly at you. “Do you?”

You hesitated, but only for a second. “No.”

He exhaled, slow. “Then I don’t either.”

Then, quietly and hesitantly, Steve shifted to pull the thin blanket up over you. It was then you realized he was still inside of you, soft, but you still felt full. His hand found yours beneath it, lacing your fingers together.

“Don’t tell Robin.” He murmured, half asleep now, using your tits as a pillow.

You smiled, eyes slipping shut. “Don’t tell her what?”

“That I like you.”

He said it like a secret.

And you held onto that like a promise, and you hoped that when the morning sun came, Steve Harrington wouldn’t regret those words.

[airandyeah]

Footballplayer!Sukuna X Toughgirl!Reader Who Do You Think I Am? Pt.4

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Sukuna's POV for this one!!! Warnings: Suggestive, Sukuna finds stubborn women hot, specifically you..

Sukuna’s used to attention. He thrives in it.

The girls crowd around like always��laughing too hard at his jokes, asking too many dumb questions, brushing their fingers across his arm like it’s accidental. Gojo’s throwing in some bullshit story beside him, and Sukuna laughs along, but he’s not listening.

Not really.

Not until he sees her.

There’s a shift in the air, something quiet and sharp. He notices the boots first—buckle-heavy, worn in. Her walk is casual, steady. Like she owns the ground beneath her feet.

Like she doesn’t give a shit who’s watching.

And she’s not looking at him.

Everyone always looks.

But she? She doesn’t even glance. Keeps walking like she didn’t just steal the breath out of his lungs without trying.

He cuts off mid-laugh.

“You good?” Gojo asks, smirking like he already knows.

Sukuna ignores him. Shoves past the crowd. One girl pouts, another whines—he doesn’t care.

He’s already moving.

“Oi!”

She doesn’t stop.

“You seriously just gonna ignore me?” he calls out, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. He doesn’t know what he expects—some stammered response, maybe a flinch. A blush. A glance.

Instead?

She turns like a storm.

And suddenly there’s a finger in his face.

Sharp.

Accusing.

Like she’s challenging him to bite.

“You don’t impress me,” she says, voice steady, bored even. “Your stupid bike doesn’t impress me. And neither does your fan club, so go find someone else to bark at.”

He should be pissed.

He wants to be pissed.

But instead, there’s this weird, hot twist in his chest. The kind he only gets before a fight—or a game.

He watches her walk away like a fuse just got lit in his gut.

Gojo finally catches up, breathless with laughter. “Damn. You’re down bad, huh?”

Sukuna doesn’t answer. ~~~ The locker room is finally quiet. The showers have stopped running, the guys have cleared out, and it’s just Gojo and Sukuna now—Gojo slumped backward on the bench with his hair still wet, scrolling his phone, and Sukuna sitting forward, elbows on knees, staring at the floor like it’s gonna answer all his questions.

Gojo glances up. “You gonna talk or keep sighing like a teen girl watching drama reruns?”

Sukuna glares at him. “Shut up.”

Gojo raises his brows. “Not until you admit you’ve been moping like a kicked dog since she walked off.”

Sukuna doesn’t answer right away.

Then he huffs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “It’s not moping. I just—she’s different.”

“Mmhm.” Gojo grins, obnoxiously.

“No, seriously,” Sukuna growls, finally standing and pacing a few steps. “I don’t know what it is, man. She’s just... cool. She’s hot, yeah, whatever. But it’s not that. It’s the way she walks, the way she doesn’t look at me like I’m some goddamn prize or something. The way she talks—hell, the way she told me off like I was a nobody.”

Gojo’s smirk deepens. “So, what, you into girls who threaten your ego?”

“No,” Sukuna says quickly. Then, quieter: “Yes. Maybe. Shut up.”

Gojo snickers.

Sukuna throws his hands up, exasperated. “I just—fuck, Gojo. I want to talk to her. Be near her. I wanna, like, hold her bag or some shit—walk her to class. Not even because I have to. Just... to be there. Close.”

Gojo whistles. “You wanna hold her bag? Damn, you’re in deep.”

“I wanna kiss her,” Sukuna mutters.

That shuts Gojo up for half a second.

“I wanna see her face when I say her name. I wanna know what her room looks like. I wanna know what she listens to when she’s pissed. If she sleeps on her back or curled up.”

Gojo whistles again, quieter. “You’re whipped and you don’t even know her.”

“I know her,” Sukuna snaps. “I mean—not really. But I know the type. I know she doesn’t take shit from anyone. That she hates people getting in her face. That she only just started talking to that Tiffany girl, and even then, she barely responds.”

Gojo blinks. “You’ve been watching her that close?”

Sukuna just sinks back onto the bench. “...I want her.”

As the locker room doors swing open, the late afternoon light bleeds in. Sukuna’s still chewing over everything he admitted to Gojo—not that he’d ever say it again—but it’s buzzing under his skin now, raw and alive. He’s about to say something else when he nearly walks into someone standing dead-center outside the doors.

Tiffany.

Not her usual chipper, bouncing self. No excited waving, no endless stream of half-finished thoughts. Instead, her arms are crossed, pink nails tapping against her arm. Her eyes—bright but serious—lock straight onto Sukuna’s.

Gojo lets out a low whistle under his breath. “Ooh. She looks ready to scrap.”

“Tiffany?” Sukuna frowns.

She doesn’t waste time. “If you’re thinking about my best friend, you need to get your act together.”

That hits him harder than it should. “What?”

“She’s not like the girls you’re used to,” Tiffany says, voice sharp as glass. “She’s not gonna chase you. She’s not gonna fall all over herself because you smirked in her direction or wore your shirt half off. And she’s definitely not going to put up with being treated like one of your little games.”

Sukuna blinks, stunned. He expected attitude from the girl, not... this.

Tiffany steps closer, unwavering. “She’s been through enough. She’s private. Keeps to herself. But I see the way you look at her.” Her voice lowers. “So if you’re serious, really serious—not just thinking with your dick—then maybe, maybe, she’ll give you the time of day.”

Gojo coughs awkwardly behind him. “Damn.”

Tiffany’s gaze lingers one more second before she spins on her heel and walks off down the hallway, pigtails bouncing, leaving nothing but stunned silence behind her.

Sukuna exhales.

“...I’m so in trouble,” he mutters.

Gojo grins, clapping him on the back. “That? That was a threat wrapped in friendship. You better step up, lover boy.” ~~~ It’s just another morning. She’s leaning against her locker, backpack sagging on the ground as she swaps out her textbooks with one hand, iced coffee clutched in the other. The hall is crowded and loud, as always, but it’s just noise—until it isn’t.

She doesn’t even need to look up to feel it—him—approaching. Heavy footsteps, purposeful. Her gut tightens with that sixth sense of impending chaos.

Then, suddenly, her bag isn’t at her feet anymore.

She whips her head around.

And there he is. Ryomen Sukuna, looming, pink hair messy from wind, sharp eyes locked onto her with the barest hint of smugness. And holding her backpack like it belongs to him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she snaps, slamming her locker shut.

He shrugs. “You’ve got coffee and books. I figured I’d carry it.”

“You figured?” She steps forward, brows furrowed. “You don’t get to figure anything, you brainless meathead.”

And then—smack.

She slaps him upside the head. Not hard, but enough to ruffle his hair and make him flinch slightly, grumbling something under his breath.

He doesn’t let go of the bag.

“Fucking idiot,” she mutters, turning on her heel and stalking down the hallway.

Sukuna follows.

And though she doesn’t look back, he sees the way her mouth twitches at the corner—like she might just be smiling.

It doesn’t take long before the whispers start. It’s impossible not to notice.

The sight of Ryomen Sukuna—shirt tight across his chest, his backpack slung over one shoulder, hers clutched in one hand—trailing behind a girl who just called him a fucking idiot? Unheard of.

“She just smacked him—did you see that?”

“No way. That was her bag he picked up?”

“Is he... carrying it willingly?”

A girl by the vending machine gawks openly, her gum freezing mid-chew. A guy nudges his friend, eyes wide. Even a few professors pause in the hallway like they’ve just seen a solar eclipse.

“What the hell is going on?” someone mutters under their breath. “Did Sukuna finally snap?”

“He didn’t even yell at her back. He followed her.”

“I thought he hated everyone.”

“Is he... into her?”

And still—he says nothing. He just walks. A step behind her. Holding the bag like it’s made of gold and not ratty canvas and covered in keychains that jingle obnoxiously with every step.

It’s not obedience, not really.

It’s reverence.

And it’s terrifying.

The whispers ripple louder now, like static building in the air. Sukuna trails just behind her, completely unfazed. She doesn’t even glance back, doesn’t slow down. She walks like she expects the world to move around her.

Which is why no one notices Yorozu at first—until she steps directly into their path.

“Oh—oops!”

It’s fake. Painfully so. Her foot twists unnaturally, the fall exaggerated and dramatic. She lets out a breathy gasp, arms flailing as she “stumbles” forward with the grace of a bad stage actor, clearly aiming to land right in Sukuna’s path—just close enough for him to drop the backpack, maybe catch her, maybe even cradle her in his arms.

Except—he doesn’t.

He stops. Doesn’t even look at her.

Yorozu hits the floor with a very real thud, the air leaving her lungs in a shocked wheeze.

Gasps erupt down the hallway. Someone stifles a laugh.

Sukuna steps over her without pause, only tilting his head to avoid brushing against her flailing limbs. He adjusts the weight of the backpack on his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re going,” he mutters coolly, not at all to her, but to the girl ahead of him. The one he’s still following. The only one he sees.

Yorozu’s friends scramble to her side in disbelief. She looks up, red-cheeked and stunned as Sukuna walks away, not even sparing her a glance.

The whispers now are vicious.

“She tried to trip into him.”

“Oh my god, she thought he’d catch her—”

“That’s so embarrassing.”

“Why is he following her? What’s so special about her?”

No one has the answer.

Tag list is always open! Im probably about to edit and drop chapter 5 too, so be ready ig. Tags: @nina6708 , @sherrieblossoms , @charlie-xo , @iloveredwineee , @kyo-kyo1 , @clp-84 , @book0fdr3ams , @enhasrii Perm Tags: Perm tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine , @nina-from-317

[mlobsters]

zillow has a nice page over the expected costs of selling your home and details out where you might be. having to sell within a few years is pretty much always going to be risky. and you do not have to put down 20%—or even my guess is common to.

via forbes

you just will pay an extra monthly fee for PMI (private mortgage insurance, protects lender against your increased risk) until you reach 20% equity in the home.

the sum up zillow's cost of selling (there's more details in the page) of a house that was purchased for 362k with 10% down (aka 36200) and the owners are selling 5 years later. it has an assumption of a hefty property value increase which is based on how things have flown up in the past few years, but even if we say value did not increase and we're selling for the purchase price, 6% of 362,000 is 21,720 which is close to their estimate of how much equity you had gained in 5 years of payments, so we're still getting the down payment back. and i'd argue in the hypothetical above where they're getting only 35-40k back is not dire penny pinching rent situation. it would royally suck to lose some of the down payment in the deal, but again you don't have to put that much down, it's just avoiding PMI to do 20%. and that ignores having increased any equity from making payments. it may not be much in a couple years, but it is something. and sometimes the best decision is to rent for a while to let the market get back to the real world.

(valuation numbers i'm quoting below are from zillow)

also, just don't buy when the market is like this if at all possible. check the price history. you're way less likely to end upside down on your mortgage due to bullshit property value inflation and the inevitable crash if you buy when it's more stable and not in the middle of a huge jump like this. house prices right now are *ridiculous*. the median average quoted above of $415,000 in 2025 -> it was $327,000 in Q4 2019. it rocketed up 100k in a very short span of time.

the first house i bought in miami in 2003 for 192k was before the market boomed out of control and and everything crashed ugly. i moved out because of divorce in 2008, was bought out by the other person on the mortgage (he gave me $10k to buy me out, which is what i brought to the table for a down payment when we bought it) so legally i wasn't on the hook for it, he eventually did sell it for a small loss (180k in 2010).

that house right now is valued at 651k on zillow.

it's in the ass end of southwest miami metro area so that's alone a 45 minute commute of stop and go just to get the middle of miami where a lot of the jobs are (and further north). before the market started spiking after 2020, it was firmly in the mid-300k range.

the house we bought in minnesota in 2013 for 225k and sold in 2017 for 257k is now valued at 404k. at least that one is in a more central location between minneapolis and st paul, but it was an older home and needed a lot of updates.

and the house here in connecticut, bought for 322k in 2017, showing valued at 561k. it is absurd. it was level at the 330s until 2020 and then started climbing. and the property tax here? we pay more into escrow for that than we do principal and interest. it's a hundred shy of $11,000 this year. just on property tax! and we're not in a "good" (read rich and white) school district (but we actually do have great schools who have been amazing working with our kids). the tax was around 9500/year when we bought it, so it's gone up about 1500/year in the past 8 years.

also as ever, if you want to watch a good movie (not documentary) about the subprime mortgage crisis, def recommend the big short. it makes a pretty dry, dense topic and makes it clear and entertaining (and infuriating).

both my parents died young (at 49 and 60, respectively) so my brother and i inherited their retirement money essentially, along with some other assets, and that's generational wealth. that is what made buying this house with a 15 year mortgage much more feasible. i wish we could have bought something smaller and cheaper, but with 3 kids we wanted 4 bedrooms (joke's on us because for the past year plus, all 3 have been sleeping in the same room) and there just weren't a lot of options in our price range. but there's no way in hell this house is worth what it's valued at right now. just like retirement accounts during market crashes, just gotta ride it out.

a home purchase is a massive commitment and it is definitely important to know all of what's involved before you do it. and it's absolutely going to be a large factor in a lot of your decisions going forward.

Actually I have a post I want to make about Property Value.

Which is a topic that comes up a lot in discussions of rich people hoarding wealth, in NIMBY panics, and in the ever-increasing prices of homes. But I don't think we talk much about how the perniciousness of property value goes deeper and basically holds middle class people who own a home hostage.

So the set some context here: in 2025 the median US home sold for $416,000. Say you have a working class family who can't meet median, but who scraped and saved and penny-pinched their way to a $300,000 home.

Typically, when buying a first home, you pay 20% down directly, and take 80% out as a mortgage from the bank. For this family, that means $60,000 of their liquid money (and let's say it took them 10-15 years to save that amount), and a $240,000 loan from the bank.

That's $240,000 in debt the family is. Which will be repaid over 30 years, with interest, at a rate that usually means for the lifetime of the loan, they end up paying back double the original loan.

However this massive $240,000 debt is generally considered "okay" debt to have, because it's backed by the house. If things go truly sour, the bank can take the house (and what's a little homelessness between friends).

That $60,000 the family put down is considered equity, and equity is money you "have", but isn't accessible.

Scenario: Now let's say something happens. Someone in the family loses their job, and the only job they can find requires moving. Or a family member across the country can't care for themselves anymore and so this family needs to move to be closer to them. The family gets divorced. Someone in the family is allergic to material in the home. Someone in the family is being stalked or abused and needs to leave the town. Anything at all, which would require selling the home and moving.

Case 1: The family is able to sell it for exactly what they paid (same property value, no increase or decrease). You would think the math is clean. They are paid $300,000 for the house. $240,000 repays the bank loan. The remaining $60,000 of equity goes right back to them. And they can use it (which took 10+ years to save up) to move across the country and buy a different $300,000 house.

Except no, it does not work like that.

The seller of a home is on the hook to pay commission to their realtor and the buyer's realtor. This is usually ~6% of the home value. They have to pay legal costs. There are taxes. There are miscellaneous costs. It can easily be 6-9% of the selling price of the house.

The bank NEEDS its $240,000 back. So those costs come from the equity. This family is not getting their $60,000 back. They're getting $30,000-$45,000, and now no longer enough money for a downpayment in their move. They're back to renting. Back to penny pinching. They can get by, but homeownership is now out of their grasp once more. Maybe in another 5 years, they'll have enough (unless home prices have increased too much by then) then they'll maybe never be homeowners again.

Case 2: The property value has DECREASED... Family is only getting offers in the $260,000 range.

If the family accepts a $260,000 sale, well $240,000 goes to the bank. This is genuinely non-negotiable. And that leaves.... maybe not enough money to even close on the house. Not enough to pay the realtors and the fees.

That $60,000 is wiped out, and the family is incapable of moving. Never mind losing 10+ years of savings--they're below $0. They don't have the money to close. It's financially impossible to sell. They are stuck with the mortgage. They are stuck with the house. (Maybe they'll rent it, if they can. And now they're landlords by circumstance, which is often NOT profitable when you're not a trust fund baby renting out a totally-paid-for no-mortgage home.) But whatever the case, they cannot sell it. And if the reason for selling was a job loss... well, they can be homeless soon. And if the property value dropped below $240,000, they can be homeless AND owe a bank debt. A $60,000 nest egg wiped completely out, with a bank debt owed on top of that.

So how do people avoid financial destitution when moving?

The most sensible answer is building up equity by paying down the loan--but it's important to know that mortgages are super interest heavy in the early life of the loan. With a 5% interest rate (BETTER, btw, than current rates) this family would be paying $15,460 the first year, and only $3,540.88 is actually chipping at that $240,000 principle. The other $11,919.59 was pure interest to the bank.

So after 1 year, the family went from having $60,000 equity in the house to $63,540.88 equity in the house. This buys a little extra wiggle room when juggling closing costs. But not very much. Even after 3 years, the family has just a little over $70,000 of equity, and just under $230,000 still left on the loan. So if the family has to move for any reason (sickness! death! job loss!) in those 3 years, it's probably financially devastating.

But there is a second answer to avoiding financial ruin: and that is Property Value going up.

Any amount of property value increase is PURE equity. The bank only cares about the amount of money is gave you. If after 3 years, that house is now worth (and can sell for) $315,000 (which is appreciation of only 1.6% a year. Most home appreciation is closer to 3%), that's more equity increase than they got from 36 diligent months of mortgage payment.

If they can sell for $315,000, pay $230,000 of that to the bank, that leaves $85,000. $25,000 goes to paying the realtors and the closing costs and.... the family is back to their $60,000 downpayment. Not trapped. Able to sell. Able to buy a new $300,000 home in the place they moved. Able to just maintain homeownership status.

But wait, if their home appreciated to $315,000, didn't all the other homes do the same, so now $60,000 isn't enough

Smart eye, lad! You've identified why this is a TERRIBLE rat race for the people scraping money together to live, and is ONLY a profitable leisure activity for rich people who sell homes like collectables.

Now because the increase is pure equity, a similar family with decent property value increase can funnel that extra equity into affording to meet the new higher down payment (remember the downpayment is only 20%, so even if the new place is similarly higher in property value, you only need to match that increase 20% for the downpayment). Which gets their foot in the door. But now their new mortgage is higher than the old one. More expensive. More interest.

But there is a losing scenario here--if home property values increased everywhere else, but not where you live. Then this family is back to surrendering homeownership. Because even if they can sell their place, they can't buy the next home.

It forces them to care about their own Property Value increase because, if it doesn't increase while everywhere else does, it traps them.

So what do I mean by all this

If the value of all homes dropped 50% overnight, I assume most people here would celebrate. Affordable homes! Rich people upset and crying! So much to love.

But in reality, that 50% drop would likely continue to mean no home for most of us, because the people who could sell you the homes would be financially incapable.

For the family above with the $240,000 mortgage, that mortgage does not reach halfway-paid-off until year 20 of the 30 year mortgage (remember the interest frontloading). If a family still owes $230,000 in bank loans on a place that can only sell for $150,000, they can't sell it to you. That house is the bank's collateral securing the loan. Their mortgage is underwater. They're trapped. They cannot sell it. You cannot have it.

Something similar happened in the 2008 subprime mortgage crisis, and the only people who got out okay were ones who could stay the course, keep making the mortgage payments, and wait it out long enough for property value to recover.

Those who couldn't got foreclosed on. Those who couldn't were left in financial devastation.

So in conclusion?

Banks profit off of mortgages. Rich people profit off of hoarding housing stock and selling it as the property value increases. Real estate companies profit off of home sales. And the regular people, who managed to achieve home ownership, are shackled to the price-go-up system to avoid financial ruin. They're forced to care about their property value because it is the singular determinant of whether they're trapped in place, whether they'll be okay if they lose their job, whether they could move due to an important life event.

It's a profit system for the rich where the cogs are middle class people who could achieve homeownership, running a machine where every single crank locks the poorer and younger generations out of home ownership forever.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Drunk Kisses (LotteWubbenMoyXReader)

A/N: i know we didn't win the League. This Is Just fiction.

Summary: you and the Team celebrate winning the League and drunk kisses are happening.

You and Lotte went to college together. With Alessia of course. That's how long you have known one another. It's also the amount of time you had a crush on Lotte. Alessia was very much aware of your crush on your teammate cause she had been the one having to listen to your rants about how much you liked Lotte. Which later turned into you being hopelessly in love with her. What you didn't know was that Alessia had to listen to Lotte saying the same stuff about you. In fact Alessia had tried to get the two to admit your feelings for one another multiple times. It never worked, obviously.

You met up with the Team at a Club to celebrate winning the League. You wore a black Jumpsuit and had left your Hair in his Natural state. Which meant it was full on curls for you.

"she looks like an Angel." Lotte whispered out to Alessia who was standing next to her. Drink in hand. Sighing softly to herself. Probably tired of the bullshit she had to Deal with regarding the two of you. It was loud at the Club. You walked over to them after you got yourself a drink as well. No Idea what Lotte had just said. Unfortunately. Cause this would have meant that finally things would have been out in the Open.

"hey less, hey Lo, you two alright?" You wanted to know. Sipping on your Drink.

"hey y/n, yes we sure are. How are you?" The blonde Stargirl asked. You smiled at her and then at Lotte. Lotte blushed softly. Or at least you thought she did.

"i am well. Lotte, you look so pretty in that Outfit." You said softly.

"you really think so?" Lotte asked and now you saw that she was in fact blushing.

"yes i do!" You said nervously. Blushing a bit as well. Looking at Alessia now. She chuckled a bit. Excusing herself to get another drink. So you stood in the corner with Lotte. No one else from the Team in sight.

You and Lotte stayed quiet for a few minutes. It never was a problem for you. Since you have been friends for such a long time. But now it made you feel nervous and stressed. So you quickly finished your drink. Lotte did the same with her dirnk.

"want to grab another drink? It's on me!" You suggested. Lotte smiled softly. She was still nervous. So were you.

"yes sure. but you don't have to pay for my drink!"Lotte told you.

"but i want to." You let her know.

You walked to the bar next to one another and ordered your Drinks. You paid and Lotte thanked you. Walking back to a Corner of the Club. It was a bit more quiet there.

Alessia was standing in another Corner with a few of your teammates.

"do you think today will be the day they admit their love for one another to one another?" Caitlin asked. Kyra had her head sideways, staring at the two of you, like she was trying to Analyse the Situation.

"i mean, These two are in Love since our College days. They are just really stupid and haven't figured that out yet. I mean Look how many times we have tried to get them to admit it to one another!" Alessia stated.

"i am sure they gonna kiss tonight. Because they are already slightly tipsy. Look how close they are standing next to eachother." Kyra said.

"oh, y/n has her hand on Lottes waist!" Katie commented.

The two of you were giggling in the Corner. After the third drink you two were in your own little world. You didn't think alot in that moment when you pulled Lotte close. She didn't think much when she kissed you back. It was very gentle, very sweet but full of emotions. At this point the entire Team was watching from across the room.

"finally!" Alessia said. And the entire Team, including Renée agreed.

"took them long enough." Leah said.

"Lia you owe me Money now!" Kim told her. Mariona chuckled softly.

"told you they would kiss today!" She let Lia know. Kim and Lia had a bet, Lia said you two wouldn't kiss today and Kim said you would.

"damn! But i mean worth the 20€. Cause i was hoping they would find one another!" Lia admitted.

"i think everyone was. Especially Lessi, cause she had been dealing with their bullshit since the College days." Beth told them.

"oh yes. I am relieved. But let's wait and see how this plays Out and If they are actually together by the end or the night or in the Morning." Alessia answered.

Then they got into a disscusion about how that would play out and not paying attention to the two of you. So they didn't notice you and Lotte sneaking Out of the Club and walking to your place. Which was only a few minutes away from your Home. On the way to your place the two of you held Hand. The fresh air making sure you become more sober by each Minute that passed.

"lo? I have something to tell you." You spoke up.

"what is it?" She asked, looking concerned now.

"i have been in love with you, since our College days! And i was too afraid to tell you! Because i didn't want to ruin our friendship. You are actually the reason i broke up with my First ever girlfriend cause all i could think about was being with you! And i am sorry If you don't feel the same and just want to hook up." You stammered out all of sudden.

"oh my god! Y/n i feel the same!" Lotte stated and pulled you in for another kiss. Holding you close. As close as possible actually. You did the same. Not wanting to let go of her.

It took another twenty minutes to reach your place but let's say you had alot of catching up to do for the time you lost, not knowing how you felt about one another. And showed up to Team Lunch together the next day.

[rosenclaws]

More headcanons? 1. How does Logan react when he's super busy, and you're super horny for him. 2. How does Logan react when he finds out you're pregnant with his baby? And when he holds them for the first time. 3. How does Logan react when he thinks you're dead (either he sees your body, or thinks you're lost in an abyss, anything) but you awake or come back to him. 4. How smug is he when he fucks you so good your orgasm makes you pass out.

Yes!! Once again splitting them up into different posts!

How does Logan react when he's super busy, and you're super horny for him.

Origins Logan -

Ahh so he finds it cute and loves to tease you about it. He just knows that it kills you when he's out at work for too long. You get super needy and he can tell by the way you cling onto him in the mornings and the look in your eyes that practically beg him to stay. He's only a little condescending as he leaves. Telling you to be good and wait for him. That he knows you're so desperate but he'll be back early tonight. Before he leaves he gives you a hot sloppy kiss that he knows will make things 10x worse but he just can't help it, he loves coming home to you so needy.

Trilogy Logan -

He's the biggest asshole about it oh my god. He's a massive tease and drags it out way longer than you deserve tbh. Your pleading face is enough to make him cave usually but he's eating it up. Making some bullshit about having to help train some of the new recruits just to see you squirm. He'd get all up in your face, making give you a little bit of what you want only to rip it away and leave you craving more. All this just so the two of you can have crazy hot sex when he finally gives you what you want. Don't even think about trying anything on your own either. He'll know and he won't be very happy about it.

DOFP Logan -

He's just as much of a tease as the other two. He can hear you pacing outside his classroom, smell you even through the closed doors. Perks of his super senses huh. He plays dumb when you come visit him. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek when you bring him a cup of coffee. You rub his shoulders and he pretends not to notice how tight you grip him or when your hands slip under his shirt. He keeps the game up, waiting for you to break first. Finally you do. Pushing his papers off his desk and climbing into his lap. Begging him to fuck you. Logan just smirks and tells you that he'll help you feel better and that you're so needy disturbing him while he's working.

Old Man Logan -

Ahh so he finds it very amusing. He's pretty condescending here I think. He does feel a twinge of guilt because he knows he's away for work a lot and that barely puts enough food on the table as it is. He wishes he could be home more for you but he can't and it sucks. Which is how he ends up using his phone for...less appropriate uses. You keep blowing up his damn phone and he slips into the role of telling you to quit it because you don't really know what you're asking for. When he does get home he makes you read all the texts you sent him while he teases you until you cry.

Worst Logan -

Im sorry if it's repetitive but he's also a little shit about it. He likes seeing you squirm for him. He's in his suit on his way to go help Wade and he can see it in your eyes how bad you want him. The cowl helps a lot too. His voice is low and super gruff, almost a growl when he tells you to quit whining and he'll deal with you when he gets back. You're the only thing on his mind while he's fighting. He just wants to get back home to you. After a long day he comes back and you practically pounce on him. He draws things out just a little longer. Peeling off his shirt and walking around while he's still dirty and sweaty...such a jerk really.

[olliewrites-stuff]

Happy.

The eerie feeling of eyes boring intensely through her ribcage made Djeneba twirl around to face the starer. Lips curved up in a bemused smile, she teased, “See something you like?”

Her partner startled, and Djeneba chuckled softly at their surprise.

A delicious flush rose up Greyson’s neck as their eyes darted away guiltily. Their left hand rose to brush the back of their neck as they mumbled, “Obviously.”

Greyson’s dark eyebrows furrowed together in a frown Djeneba always found endearing. It was a sweet moment until their mouth pulled into a deep grimace and they muttered, “You make me happy, okay?”

And there it was. That pesky feeling that popped up uninvited far too often, settling in Djeneba’s stomach, curdling her internal systems as rejection spread steadily throughout her body.

"You don't seem very happy."

She couldn’t prevent the words from slipping from her lips and landing on the floor between the two lovers, creating an invisible, icy cavern of dread. Djeneba watched Greyson’s shoulders curl inwards as they stared pointedly at the floor, purposefully angling their head to shield any facial hints from her gaze.

Fuck. This had been happening too often lately. Their individual insecurities kept barging into what should be the pair’s well-earned domestic bliss. Was this it? Was this a sign that it was ending?

Djeneba fucking hoped not. She’d even resorted to praying it wasn’t so. She never thought rediscovering her faith would ever be prompted by the fear of losing the one she loves; the one she thought she’d made her forever life with.

It all started about a year ago; Greyson developed this unnerving habit of becoming closed off and sombre following happy, light-hearted, and domestic moments that Djeneba loved. Their words would always attempt to placate the blonde, but the simultaneous negative body language made the verbal effort futile.

Djeneba had tried so hard to convince herself otherwise, but in this moment, as her veins iced over with the repeating memory of Greyson’s dour face just now, she admitted defeat.

She needed to know. She needed to know whether this was truly the end. She didn’t have the energy to gloss over these moments anymore.

Djeneba cleared her throat and forced out the words, sharper than intended, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it. That you’re happy.”

Shit. Okay, maybe thinking through the words before saying them would be a good idea. What a fucking revelation.

Inhaling deeply, the blonde tried again, “That’s not how I meant to word my thoughts. I’m sorry.”

Greyson froze. They still refused to angle their face into view, but Djeneba could tell they were listening. Good.

“Grey, I - I feel like you don’t love me anymore.”

Deep brown curls bobbed erratically as Greyson’s head flung up sharply. Sage eyes were wide and fearful as they finally targeted Djeneba’s face.

“And - And, I know, okay? I know you tell me with your words. You tell me you love me. You tell me you’re happy, but your body says otherwise. I can’t remember the last time you said either of those strings of words without a fucking grimace on your face.”

God, she couldn’t say this while looking at the face she was already grieving. Djeneba closed her eyes as defiant tears began their long trek down her face.

“Fuck, Grey, it looks like it physically hurts you to love me! Or to say you love me - whatever. And I can’t do this anymore. I love you! And whether you think you love me or not anymore, I refuse to keep hurting you. Even if you do still love me, I refuse to continue this if it makes you unhappy,” she sobbed wetly.

Djeneba wiped her dripping eyes and nose with her sleeve, far beyond caring about insignificant bullshit like social decency.

“I love our life together, Greyson. I love you! So much. And other than you fucking grimacing whenever you tell me you love me or that you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m willing to work through whatever, as long as we’re together. I want to spend my life with you! I just - my one and only exception to all this is if you’re unhappy in our relationship. If you’re unhappy with me, with us. I - I don’t expect either of us to be happy all the time. We’re both mentally ill; we know the struggle; but up until recently, we’ve never been the cause of unhappiness, you know? It was always us surviving through all the unhappiness life throws at us, together… You’re not happy, Grey. I can see it. You’re not happy with me. I make you unhappy. And I can’t - I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to me. To us…”

Suddenly exhausted, Djeneba hung her head. Opening her blurry eyes, she stared despairingly at Greyson.

“Please be honest with me, Grey. Do I make you unhappy?”

Greyson's fingers dug firmly into the faded blue couch cushion they sat on. Djeneba watched as their arms began to tremble and their head hung down low between their sharp shoulder blades. At the sound of a heaving sob, Djeneba wrapped her arms around her own torso harshly and sat down on the single red armchair parallel to her partner.

Deep, wracking sobs ripped themselves from Greyson’s throat as they began to cry earnestly. Haunting wails spilled as they began to hyperventilate and rip their hands through their hair. This harrowing soundtrack filled the living room of their home; the same one Djeneba had carried Greyson over the threshold of, while the pair of them cackled joyfully. The same house they’d hosted their first through fifth family Christmases in. The same house that currently housed the engagement ring Djeneba had hidden in a false bottom of her desk drawer. The house they’d discussed future children in.

Each of Greyson’s sobs reverberated in Djeneba’s heart. She feared that the ricochet would tug her heart from her chest, leaving it to fall lifelessly on the ground between the two of them.

Time passed in the mysterious way it tends to, although Djeneba wouldn’t have registered this if not for the eventual sunset transitioning their afternoon to evening.

By the time Greyson’s sobs came to a trembling stop, Djeneba could see stars outside the living room window. She heard their initial failed attempts to get words out between silent tears and continued to wait.

Finally, Greyson’s voice grew to replace the lingering echo of their prior weeping, "I am happy.”

They laughed wetly, seemingly realising how ludicrous the words sounded.

“I am. I have been, for a while, even. So something terrible has to happen soon, right? To even it all out. I don't just get to be happy."

Djeneba frowned. This train of thought wasn’t new, not for Greyson. But to try and use it now?

Well, it felt like a weak excuse to avoid accepting the truth.

Isn’t it funny how weak excuses can hurt the most?

The brunette powered on desperately, “The fact you make me happy, so happy, fucking terrifies me. It’s like the universe is taunting inevitable heartbreak above my head whenever you dare to do something as stupid and fucking generous as loving me. And… And the longer we’re together; the more you become a stable and certain thing in my life, the more I fear the end. I love you so fucking much, Djeneba. And I feel how much you, miraculously, love me. You make me happy. I am happy. There’s just - there’s a part of me that refuses to acknowledge that this happiness can coexist with my internal, ingrained belief that I am fundamentally unlovable. That all of this will end.”

Lips pursed, Djeneba squared her jaw. None of this was new. She’d been hearing this same speech from them since the pair were in high school together. She felt like a fool for expecting anything different. For expecting any real response.

She thought Greyson knew her better than this. That they knew better than to hide behind the same, unchanging excuse they’ve used for years.

Yes, it was true. Djeneba knew, and had known, that Greyson struggled with this. They’d had numerous conversations about it. Talked through it. Talked about communicating clearly. Fuck, she’d actively worked to force words out when her rejection sensitive dysphoria threatened to stop her voice entirely. She’d worked so hard to communicate with the one she loved. To evolve. To put effort into their longevity together.

…And Greyson dared to hide behind the same fucking excuse they’d had since they were 16.

Djeneba smoothed her jeans firmly and stood up. Ignoring Greyson’s owlish eyes, she sighed dejectedly.

“I don’t know why I expected anything different.”

She walked over to the key dish by the front door, patting her pocket for her phone and wallet as she slipped on her slides.

Turning one last time to face the love of her life, Djeneba spoke monotonously, “When you’re ready to actually talk to me and be honest, we can arrange a public place to meet. I’m going to my sister’s. Your engagement ring’s in the third desk drawer, by the way. I don’t care what you do with it. It was never meant for me.”

She closed the front door firmly behind her, thanking God it was raining.

© O.M.A

"You don't seem very happy."

"I am happy. I am. I have been, for a while, even. So something terrible has to happen soon, right? To even it all out. I don't just get to be happy."

[bleufu1]

LIL’ OL DOVES

“What’s yo’ name huh?”

“Sammie— Sammie Moore.”

“I like preacher boy better.”

SYNOPSIS: Where a boy meets the angels his father been preaching bout’.

Cavity worth fluff imo | Little Sammie can’t handle a crush | comparisons of heaven and earth n angels | reader is a bit of a trouble maker. |

Hot an’ sunny in Mississippi. Was a Friday mornin’, everybody and they momma outside. Kids playin’ while they moms chat on the porch. The dads having a beer outside while arguing over nonsense and bullshit. Average hot day out in the country. For Sammie it won’t no different.

Sammie was outside playing along with the other kids from the church. It was nothin’ else to do with the time they had. Kicking the ball around, doin’ flips on the dirt — gettin’ they clothes dirty. Sammie was running with some of the boys. They all ran back to the houses close near. An’ getting closer to the house, he spotted something, or someone. A woman, no older than twenty at least — was speakin’ to his momma.

They looked like good friends. Laughin’ like they ain’t seen each other in a good long while. The lady stood yey-high, long thick hair pulled into a bun. She seemed sweet. Beside her stood a young lady, looked no older than a teen years. Really pretty, nice smile too. They were conversing bout’ god knows what. Sammie peered from the steps with his friends, tryna figure out what they could be chattin’ bout—

“God dammit — _____! Get the hell down!”

Sammie snapped his head along with everyone else. There he seen her. Wearin’ a yellow dress with white frills on the bottom. Hair crazed an’ leaves scattered everywhere in it. Big smile on her face too. She was climbing a tree — looks like she was lookin’ for somethin’ — an’ she won’t gon let it get away.

“One second Ma’! The cat gon fall if I don’t catch it!”

Sammie watched as the girl tried getting the cat. Reaching her hands out to it in the tree. He could hear her momma on the porch yelling for her to leave the animal alone — an’ that cats find they own way down. Clearly the girl a Bit stubborn — tried to get the cat anyway. Sammie’s friends giggled and smiled at her attempt. The young lady, assuming that’s her sister, ran to the tree in hopes to get her down.

Her attempt ain’t work. Poor girl fell — with the cat in her arms.

“I got it!”

She stood up stumbling, her sister dragged her by the arm that wasn’t holdin’ the cat, bringing her to they Ma’. Her mom was furious — rightfully so. Sammie could tell by the way her mom was using past tense in her words, this ain’t the first time this occurred. Still, she giggled like she had laughin’ gas in her tank.

“Ain’t shit funny bout’ this girl! You could’ve got hurt — or worse.”

“But I ain’t, aren’t I?”

Sammie watched, as she an’ her sister went back an’ forth. Yep, definitely sisters. He looked at her fixing her hair — ridding all the leaves out it. Brushing her hair out with her fingers. Her locks were fairly long, thick like her mom’s — looked taken care of and healthy. Sammie’s friends laughed at her an’ her sister’s bickering. The lil’ one finally pushed her hair back from her face — and Sammie’s eyes widened a little. She was pretty.

Not the pretty of her sister, not the pretty like her momma. Sammie thought those ladies were very beautiful, but not in the way he seen her. She looked younger than him but not by that much. She won’t rough in the face either like he expected — she was beautiful. Pretty like daisy’s, pretty like the smell of lavender or sunflowers. He ain’t never seen nothing or nobody like her.

Sammie seen her mom point over to where him an’ his friends were sitting. Presumably saying to stay put with the other kids. Soon as she walked over all of em’ started asking questions. Most along the lines of why she was in the tree anyways. Sammie wasn’t paying attention to the things they were asking. He only tuned in when she answered. She said she wanted that cat back, won’t nobody gon’ tell her otherwise.

He locked eyes with her — when she looked up at him. She smiled. Sammie thought bout’ why his heart felt like it was tryna’ run out his chest.

“You that boy I been hearin’ bout round town, the preachers son — right? People call you preacher boy.”

He coughed — clearing his voice

“Yeah, but that’s not my name.”

“What’s yo’ name then, huh?”

“Sammie — Sammie Moore.”

She tapped her finger on her chin, looked him up

an’ down with a squint.

“Nah. I like preacher boy better. — My names ____.”

That was fine by him. All he did was smile an’ Nod. The rest of the day they all played. Running round’ — Sometimes _____ gettin’ yelled at by her momma for running too fast for her feet to catch up. They all decided to play hide n seek. Simple game an’ it won’t give her Ma’ a heart attack. Sammie and the girl decided to team up — she thought it’d be good to hind behind the barn, where the flower field was.

Him and her kept quiet. He took small peeks at her when she was lookin’ out for the seeker. She really is pretty, can you blame em’?

“You keep staring at me, why you do that?”

He froze, looking back at her.

“Dunno’ maybe i just like lookin at ya.”

“You like my face then preacher boy.”

“I ain’t say that—”

“You ain’t have to — i ain’t slow. It’s alright if you stare, just don’t be weird bout it — kay?”

Sammie nodded at her, she smiled back at him.

“I think imma give you a nickname — only fair, cause you’n call me by my name.”

She looked up at him. Squinting at him. She ain’t like the idea of what he was proposing — she knew boys were mean with names. Sometimes taking it too far.

“Fine, what ya thinkin’?”

Sammie thought for a second. She was really nice to everyone, kept a smile on his face too. He won’t gon’ give her a flower name — that was too basic, every man calls a woman by a flower. When he seen her, he thought he’d seen the angels his father said watched over them. He thought if she was watching over him — he wouldn’t mind it really. He ain’t know why, nor did he care to.

She looked like heaven on earth. Like the lord himself blessed him with her an’ told him keep her safe from harms way. That she was the fragile gift he had to keep from breaking. And though he’s young, and don’t know a thing bout’ how love works, he’s heard his momma speak bout it with one of the young girls in the choir, that you’ll know it when you feel it. That it feels like a breath of fresh air, without them by your side — you’d wouldn’t know how to breathe that air.

Sammie’s sure that’s what he’s feelin’.

“Sugar. I’ll call you sugar.”

“Why that? Am I a condiment?”

“No No, you’re just — sweet’n kind. That’s all.”

She hummed, nodding a little. She liked the name. Pretty nice, ain’t nothin’ mean bout the name. She’ll take it — plus preacher boy seemed pretty sweet himself.

“I’ll take it — Preacher boy.”

“Alright den’ Sugar.”

Since then, her an’ Sammie been attached by the hip. Growing up with each other. Taking the weekends and some days out the week to play together. Sometimes the whole lot of kids would be there but when it was just them, it was a lot better for both of them. Just them’n their jokes an’ ideas. Like two peas in a pod. Two puzzle pieces stuck together. Two souls meant to stay together.

Unfortunately, that ain’t last very long for them. Sugar had to move — folks sayin’ her momma thought it was safer for her up north with her auntie an’ cousins. Before she left — she gave sammie a lil’ chain she kept as a necklace, wrapped it round’ his wrist an’ told him keep it safe and clean. Promised her.

The next couple of days were rough, he ain’t play that much — always stood to the side’n on the street while the other kids ran. His momma noticed, told him she’s sure the girl would come back an’ won’t no doubt in her mind that she missed him as much ash he did her. Told him to stop brooding and go have fun.

He always wondered when she’d come back, always passing at the road she left from — hoping she’d appear.

“Sammie — Sammie, Sammie Moore!”

Elias smacked him upside the head. Stupid smirk he always wore on his face. Sammie rubbed his head — looking behind him making eye contact with his cousin.

“Boy I been callin’ yo name for the past five minutes. What got yo’ mind running huh? Let’s go, Smoke need us for sum’n.”

He had to be day dreaming again. It been a long couple years since she left. Still at his big age, he’d still look back at the road whenever he passed it. He missed her still, thinkin’ bout her smile from time to time. He still thought of what it would be like if she stayed. If her mom let her stay. They’d still be hangin’ by that field — he’d sing to her an’ she’d listen, humming along.

Him and Stack hopped into the car, Stack starting it up an’ driving off. Stack started humming sum kinda tune. Sammie wasn’t paying him no mind, too busy with his own thoughts. Till’ Stack turned to him.

“Hey — Ya’ know that girl you use ta’hang round’? One with the head full’a hair’n always being reckless like she got more than one life gave to er’? Heard she comin back to town, prolly’ tomorrow.”

Sammie paused, looked at him with wide eyes. Sugar, the girl that left years ago. The same girl he knew he loved, now that he’s older to understand what it was and what it meant. Was coming back. Back home. Tomorrow.

“Huh.”

Sammie smiled a bit to himself, looking down at her chain he kept on his wrist since she left. He upheld his promise to keep it in condition. It was still shiny, couple scratches but barely visible unless you were lookin’ too hard for sum’n. Sammie’s smile got bigger.

His Sugar was comin’ back — an’ he was keeping her this time.

——————————————————————————

🫶 — How we feeeel..when i was typing them meeting as kids i was thinking around 13-15, old enough to have a crush n understand at least what that was. Anyways hope yall like it 😪

[freshllamapeace]

A False Sense

Remmick x Reader

 Holy crap I felt like I was writing interview with a vampire with the amount of dialogue and recounted there is in this. Uh slow burn and you talk like a lot… 

Warning - Death, Vampires, blood, all that jazz, Dead dove (not really but part two will be) 

Part ½, possible prequel 

Bruises didn’t stick and wounds healed quick but… the memories, they were haunting. They refuse to leave, replaying in the back of your skull like a broken cassette tape. Yet you still managed to keep a smile on your face because you survived it. Even managed to kill the fucker and sever that damn connetion but in the back of your head you worry that maybe it isn’t over.  

You sat on the floor of the woods, blood dripping from your mouth, dirt staining your hands. The man before you was breathing heavily, your eyes watching as his chest rose and fell and his Adam's apple bobbed. 

“Do you think that's enough?” He asked sheepishly, sweat running down his forehead. His breath was hot and his eyes were sunken. He was tired, you had taken more than you promised. You smile, teeth shining in the moonlight.  Grabbing the blade you'd been using all night long to carve the man up, you gently wiped the metal on your dress allowing the red ichor to stain the fabric before pocketing it. Laying your back to the earth, you look to the stars. They shined down bright and friendly like an old friend. The one constant in your immortal life were those twinkling lights, people came and went, animals died, and nature often left destroyed but those pretty lights never left. Sure there were nights where it was harder to see them than others but you knew they were still there and that's what brought you comfort night after night.  “Yeah I think so.” You stated, closing your eyes and allowing the cold air to affectionately kiss at your skin. “I think I may have over done it tonight.”

“I think so too.” Louis grimaced in pain as he laid next to you. His eyes running up and down your body, looking for something, anything that was out of place and would point to the monster he believed you to be. The longer his eyes looked the more his mind drifted to the conclusion that there was nothing out of the ordinary about you, you had no tells. And that, well that wasn’t okay. It put him on edge, his skin crawled and tiny goosebumps would materialize on his brown skin. Just the thought that he couldn’t tell your kind apart from his kind frightened him but still he said nothing. “You know it’s been three years since you smashed into me and my sister's life like battering ram. And still you ain’t very forthcoming about yourself.” He pauses looking to you for a reaction that wouldn’t come. “It ain’t fair you know.” 

Letting out a deep sigh in what could only be human mockery, you groan. Slowly you flutter your eyes open as if waking from a thoughtless slumber. “Three years, huh? Time really is but a stubborn illusion, a fleeting moment constantly on the run.” You smile, soft, kind. “Fine… I'm an open book. What do you want to know?” You ask as you use your elbow to lift you up. Looking deep into Louis' worn out eyes. You should get him home soon. 

“How’d you come to be like this? And don’t reply with no poetic bullshit, okay? I ain’t stupid, I want the real answer.” Bold boy, he was. His hunger for answers pumping through his veins, a need for knowledge ripping through the air. Your instincts told you to dance around the question, run him in circles till he was dizzy just like you always did but what good would come out of that. You’d spent the last three years doing so and now the jig was up. “Well ain’t that a loaded question.” You laugh trying to hide your unease. 

“I was hunted… hunted like a baby fawn.” You took a deep breath, the memories engulfing you like a dark cloud. The face you tried so hard to forget flashing in your mind like a film reel. “He said he loved me. Said he knew me better than I knew myself.” You allowed yourself to let out a bitter chuckle. “In the end, I guess he did.” Louis looked on quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I let him in one night. My hunger, my lust, it clouded my judgement. He wasted no time showering me with love and adoration, it was nice.” A distant smile appeared on your face before dropping. 

“I allowed the events of the night to creep up on me, lulling me to sleep in his arms. When I woke the sweet remnants of sleep still hung to my body but also this indescribable dread. It clung to me like a leach, buried itself in the pit of my stomach. He was gone of course, the morning rays shining down on my dark skin, giving it a reluctant golden hue. I still remember how beautiful that sunrise was that day. The midtones of orange, yellow and even a luminescent pink clashing with each other for control of the sky, as the sun smiled down at all creation. It was so warm, so friendly, I could’ve fallen back into the arms of slumber in an instant if it wasn’t for the nauseating dread that was clinging to me.” You didn't realize it but your breathing became uneven as your mind went to the events that followed after that sunrise. You closed your eyes if only for a moment. 

You were there again. Feet anxiously climbing down the stair case as a sickening rotting fragrance filled your nose. Eyes wide as you looked at the gore before you. This wasn’t real, it couldn't be. Your dads body was broken, contorted in ways that didn’t seem possible. His bones poked out where they shouldn’t and stomach gashed open with his intestines spilling out. His eyes were haunting, the lively brown hue they carried, now gone and greyed over. Not far from him was your mother. Her face stretched out in horror, the expression ingrained in her loving brown features. Her throat was completely shredded, all components on display. You could even see the pale white bone making an appearance through the heaps of blood. A wail so guttural and raw left your mouth that night and you cried for hours on end. You had come to believe it was your fault. 

“Y/n you’re crying.” You blinked a moment. You mind racing at an inhuman pace you struggled to catch up. You smile, wiping the cherry tears from your face, you laugh. “Sorry about that.” 

“Anyways I woke up that day to my parents dead in the living room and my dog, Little Daisy gored on front porch.” You breath, pulling your body forward you sat up before crossing your legs. “He left me to stupor in his actions, he enjoyed watching it eat at me from a far. It took me months to leave the house after that. Reduced to a hermit, I lived in fear. But it’d be years before he’d strike again. He waited, waited til I was comfortable, happy, safe. He was always content to play the long game. Something I never grew to understand.” 

“Why didn’t he just kill you that night? Turn while you were laying up in bed with him.” You laugh sharp and bitter. “You listening to me? He didn’t kill me because what’s the fun in that?” You asked. “I let him in and for that, there needed to be consequences. My parents and little Daisy were just that… Consequences.” 

“But you let him in again, didn’t you?” Louis accused. “How else would he have gotten his hand on you?” 

“Of course not. I would’ve never let him in, I don’t purposely make the same mistake twice.” You left those words in the air for a moment. Silence surrounding the two of you. 

“Like I said, he waited. Waiting till he became a distant memory in the back of my mind. Waited for me to get bold. Waiting was what he was good at. It took a while but I did get bold, started testing my luck by going outside when the sun sunk low. I had to… needed to, the house was suffocating, had been for years but I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere else. All my memories resided there, riding my first bike, the many piggybacks my father gave me, my mother and the ‘secret’ girls night we’d have when dad was working late. I latched onto it all because outside of memories all I had was the house. My parents weren’t well off so to give them a proper burial I sold things, things that I would’ve treasure if I knew better.” 

“But April 26 19XX I chose to be bold. Bold for the last time. I sat on the wooden swinging chair that resided on the porch, an old thing with striking baby blue paint littered on it. Long aged, the paint was chipped and peeling but she was still a beauty. I was tired, lazy, the book that resided in my lap long since abandoned and my eyes began fluttering closed. It’d been a long time since I’d had the chance to fall asleep with the wind kissing so lovingly on my skin. I took the risk, I acted boldly, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.” “No” Louis whispered clearly enraptured by your story. 

“I don’t know what time I woke up but when I did the moon was softly shining down on me. It was comforting but only for a moment. I felt time slow as the wood of the chair creaked. He was sitting beside me doing what he did best, watching and waiting.” You wouldn’t dare go over the intimated details of how that night unfolded. The things you endured that night never meant to be recounted or relived. “He turned me that night, just before sunrise.” Your voice was quiet barely audible above the crickets and cicadas as they sang. 

“But you say you killed him!” Louis said his voice full of hope. The words noticeably coming out loud and proud. “That what sis says anyways.” He said his tone shifting to be a bit meeker after noticing his voice had scared aways many of wildlife that resided in the forest. Another true and genuine smile found itself pressed into your lips. The brother and sister duo really did crack you up with their antics. A shame you were only feeding on the one tonight. “Where’s your sister anyways?” You asked. 

“My question first.” Eager was the serpent to feast. His hunger for knowledge leaves holes in his stomach that only you could fill. You chuckled. “Yeah I suppose I did. But that didn’t come first, What came first was severing the ‘connection’ we had.” “Connection?” He questioned. 

“Vampires have this connection to one another, like a symbiosis relationship. Not only did he get my memories but I got his. I saw the countless nights he spent waiting for me. I saw his first hand account of him murdering my parents, my dog. And those memories, they drove me crazy. They replayed in my head like a fucking siren. It felt like it was his doing, like he was the reason they wouldn’t stop like he wanted me to watch those moments over and over again. And maybe he did, he had a peculiar way he went about things.” There was a profound sadness now present in your eyes. Louis sat seemingly amazed at just how expressive your eyes were. They told their own story time and time again. 

“Now about that sister of yours?” You asked, giving a friendly tilt of the head. As Louis opened his mouth to answer, the sound of a branch snapping could be heard loud and clear. You both snapped your head in the direction of the noise. Your body immediately stiffened and you felt as though all the blood you had just received ran cold. What stood before you was hardly a few feet away. A ghost of a man with blood soaked clothes, in his hand he held an iron grip on the decapitated head of Zuri, Louis’ sister. The spinal bone still attached, her eyes were stuck staring back at you in horror. You could only imagine what her last moments looked like.

“She ain’t wanna miss out on the pleasantree’s thought I'd bring her with me.” Remmick voice and smooth and sweet like honey, always was. Even when he would whisper in your ear about how he would break every bone in your body. It made you sick. Louis cried out his eyes never leaving his sister's head, tears started to rain down his face like a water hose that was not quite shut off. “How?” The word came out quiet, frightened. 

“I did what I do best darlin’… Watched and waited.” He mocked. He had been there lurking far longer than you realized.

__________________________________

I wanna do mafia AU next man

[party-gilmore]

also don't get me wrong in very happy that some transmascs get to HAVE that relief.

Very, VERY happy.

And YES it's so phenomenal to see people break away from the bullshit standards of feminity force fed to us from before we can even speak.

But masculinity in this society comes with it's OWN bullshit fucking standards.

And do y

do y'all understand

that for others of us

the goddamn PRESSURE just fucking INCREASES???

I had a HARD enough time trying to feel attractive as Woman (tm) when I had at least the "correct" basis for the impression I was going to make!!! I knew that men who like women also tend to like boobs, and hips, and cunt, and hey at least I had those! Just had to figure out how to make the rest of me somehow appealing against all the other fuck off beauty standards too!

But NOW???? NOW????????

Not only do I still feel the general struggle of the same aesthetic "flaws" I've always seen in myself but ALSO the constant undercutting of I don't even have (what I feel like) gay men WANT.

Like HELL Im still just trying to succeed in feeling like Not An Imposter in gay, male spaces. Let alone ATTRACTIVE in them.

And some folks are out here thinking that's a PRIVILEGE?!?! That its somehow a BONUS to be faced with a whole aspect of your physical image that you're having to create from SCRATCH??!? That you know you're going to have to go above and beyond to make absolutely PERFECT just to be ACCEPTED in these spaces as anything other than a Butch Lesbian at best or straight girl faghag at worst, let alone DESIRED in them????

And that's just the GENDER ACCEPTANCE part of the attractiveness!!!! Trying to be a Basic Attractive Man while built with the "wrong" parts to pull it off! That's not even getting INTO gay male beauty standards!!!

Have you SEEN the emphasis on BODY??? The Big Three of Bear Hunk Twink? Have y'all noticed the sort of... lack of anything in between?

Oh there's all sorts of fun "In Between" labels, sure, otter, twunk, whatever... But they are are just literally combos OF those three body types. Bear with Twink traits. Hunk with Bear traits. Shut up shut up shut UP ABOUT THEM.

And if you're on the more femme side of gay? The cosmetics and beat face standards are no different than what I faced as a woman. HELL, i'd even say the expectations are WORSE, because at least as woman I was still SEEN as a woman, just one who'd "given up" 🙄 but going out to the gay bar nowadays, the IMPECCABLY beat face for "femmes" is not just STANDARD but seems almost a CULTURAL indicator of even BEING "really" gay in the first place!!! Because gays are so GOOD and m at fashion and style and strutting, you know? If you don't know this YouTuber or that MUA tiktokker, what are you even DOING, my dear little baby gay??? Honey come back when you've at least learned the culture 😘

BABY g-

Bitch I've been gay for men longer than you've been ALIVE, fuck OOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

and then that person in the post OP mentions had the fucking GALL to look at someone who's managed to break away from AT LEAST the pressure they had to face as women to feel attractive, MAYBE even some of the new pressures they would have to face of they wanted to feel attractive now or find a partner as a man, depending on if that is or isn't a priority/concern for them, and say... how lucky for you to be so privileged over me

...WHAT?? WHAT!!?? M

Still thinking about that post claiming that transmascs expressing relief that they don't have worry if they're attractive anymore is an example of them experiencing male privilege.

A person who has been taught it was their duty to be attractive to straight men: Wow, it feels so good to be able to overcome this and let myself just exist

A person so engrossed in online discourse they lost contact with reality: I hope you understand how much privilege it gives you over me!

Those transmasc people were 'able to' stop worring about their attractiveness *because they managed to overcome the brainwashing they were subjected to* not because the patriarchy gave them a dispense! They are still punished for 'uglifying' themselves! They let THEMSELVES abandon misogynistic beauty standards but the patriarchy still holds them up to it!

Nobody calling themselves a feminist would accuse a woman who broke free from misogynistic beauty standards of being privileged over those who haven't. Yet when it's a transmasc person who broke free, they are called privileged over women.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

This is the woman who always has anything you might need in her bustle. Portable phonographs, certainly, but what else? Alcohol, without doubt. Knives? Probably. More knives? Wouldn't be surprised. Candy? Always good to have something to mollify Hampton with. More alcohol? Well, James can always do with a little nip. Another knife? Why not? Lockpick set? I mean, where do you keep yours?

#it's that time again #madge madge madge #she's earned it

#!!!!!

#home stretch

Mari Datuin (Hi Nay):

Shes pan, shes fillipina, she might be God. She talked to the cops without a lawyer, and let them into her home without a lawyer [DONT DO THAT] but she did it for the plot. She’s gorgeous, shes chubby, she loves bubble tea. She was the mediator/ divorce lawyer for a breakup between two of her friends. She has reasonable beef with old people, shes fighting a cult, she is viciously allergic to therapy. Objectively a Character Of All Time. Listen to the podcast if you haven’t.

Mari sweep!!!!

Mari laughing animation by @motziedapul.

Mari art by metmarfil.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

Madge Stallion was submitted without propaganda.

we gotta get our girl some propaganda. she would hate it, but the mystery of it all is kinda part of the appeal here.

Madge stallion NEEDS no propaganda

Madge: so sexy she needs no propaganda

#madge stallion is a great woman to lose to

#Madge she's a sassy lesbian detective what else do you want

#madge stallion needs no propaganda #by virtue of being madge

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Raging lesbian in a lavender marriage

Seduced someone working for the enemy

Is just as chaotic and at time brain cell-less as her male companions

Loyal but still willing to call her friend since childhood out on his bullshit

She canonically fucks. Like in canon she fucks so much. See above about seducing the enemy and then pepper in her on again off again romance with Martha Hudson.

#madge propaganda time : #she will flirt with basically any girl she sees and oh she does it so well #also !!! she once flirted and got on with technically an enemy in the middle of a spying mission ???? #she went like 'oh sorry just gotta go to the loo' to go spy in the house got caught and flirted so well she 1/ got laid 2/ got information #3/ came back like nothing happened #with some motivation she could flirt and get a boner from a dead rock tbh #madge stallion IS THE SEXIEST

Mari Datuin (Hi Nay):

#in her defence the cops were hot but also she was wrong for that even if she ends up loving them ; do not let cops into your house #character of all time 🥹

#MARI SWEEP

#i don't go here but i read filipina and felt my pinoy pride shine through

#<- you should go here come to the dark side

#Mari is the sexiest sexy podcast character she has it ALL

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari Mari

[killmeleatherface]

I’m Here

Jack Abbot x F!attending (OC)

Summary: Jack Abbot and you have a complicated relationship to say the least. It goes beyond attending resident and more into…who knows. When he offers you an attending position you don’t realize that both of your life’s are about to be thrown upside down and neither of you will know what to do.

TW: medical setting, cursing, age gap relationship. Let me know of any more!

—

“Where do you think you’re going to go, actually? No bullshit.” Jack Abbot asks you.

You’re on the roof of the Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center leaning against the metal railing. You’re trying to look at the stars, but you can’t ignore Jack’s eyes on you for any longer.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s really between here and Minnesota.” You’d been offered an attending position at Mayo, as well as the emergency department at the hospital you were currently standing on.

“Here and Mayo? That makes sense. Did they offer you more money? A moving stipend?” He inquires.

They hadn’t. In fact, the offer from the Pitt, or more specifically Jack himself, was better. But you weren’t going to mention that.

“Yeah, they did actually. Also offered an allowance for a four wheel drive truck.” You’d say with a smile, trying to incite a laugh. You fail. He stays silent, not breaking eye contact with the skyline in front of you.

He’s always so quiet, never saying more than he needs to, or saying less than he wants to. The attending you’d worked under the past 4 years was a very pensive man, all about healing and medicine and honesty and integrity.

He turns around, crosses his arms and stands in front of you and faces you. “When do they need to know by?” He asks.

“The day before the wedding.” You say, refusing to make eye contact.

“Oh that’s fast.” Is all he says. In reality it’s two days away.

“Maybe there’s something I can get Robby to talk to Gloria about, sweeten the deal ya know. Keep my best resident here.” He’s thinking out loud.

“No, no, Jack. Don’t do that. There’s nothing left to do. I just haven’t made a decision yet, honestly.”

He won’t stop looking at you. Like he’s trying to get his eyes to say something that his mouth can’t. Or more like his mouth won’t let him because his brain is winning in the fight against his heart.

You finally pull away and crawl back through the railing, suddenly needing more air that an open rooftop can give you. You close your eyes and take your turn to look at the sky. You hear the crunch of rocks and dirt behind you, but you don’t dare open your eyes and look behind you, suddenly feeling as if you’ll turn to stone if you dare make eye contact with the dangerous man behind you.

“Daphne.” He says. You just shake your head, moving your long ruby curls.

“Daphne, please. What do you want me to do? The weddings two days away. I’m stuck.” Jack says.

With that, you finally open your eyes and turn around, fury in your unmet eyes.

“You’re stuck? You’re stuck?” You ask as if he’s a kindergartener and not a man in his late forties.

“Jack, don’t even try it. It’s way too late for that. Don’t do it now.” You say, with tears stuck in your eyes.

“Daphne, please. I-I- don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Do you want me to beg you to stay here? Do you want me to beg you to take the attending position so I can continue to spend every day with you? Fine. Yes. Yes, I do. I want to call Mayo and say lies about you so they’ll rescind the offer. I want you to stay here so bad with me that it hurts. It’s killing me how fucked up this all is. That’s how bad I want you here. There. Damn. Are you happy now?” Jack says, getting louder the more he goes on.

“Jack, you can’t say that. Stop, it’s-it can’t happen.”

He steps towards you and you freeze. What’s happening? You should step back. You should turn around and go back down those stairs that you came up, and back to the emergency department. But you don’t want to. You want what’s right in front of you.

When he gets to touch toe to toe with you, he reaches for your hand, playing with the friendship bracelet a twelve year old patient had given you three years before. Jack had a matching one. He skins his hands down your palms and to your fingertips. “Stop me.” He says, looping his hand through yours. “Please, stop me, if you don’t want this, stop me.”

But you want this. Of course you want this. You want nothing more than this man in front of you. The man you fell in love with six months after meeting. The one you shared your highs, lows, and everything else in between with. The man you’d spent hours after both of your shifts in the same spot just discussing life with. Jack told you a little bit here and there at first. He was testing the waters. He was testing you, seeing if he could truly trust someone with sensitive information. After, in his mind, you proved you could, he told you everything. He told you about being a medic in combat, he told you about going to school, where he did his residency, how he started at the Pitt and met Robby. There was just one story he’d never told you, and it was about the metal attachment he had beneath his pant leg that not many people knew about.

“Jack, I do-“ he interrupts you with his lips crashing on to yours. At first you’re surprised, but you almost immediately reach your hands up to cup his jaw. You let yourself savor the moment. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling himself into you. This man, he made you almost lose control. Almost.

You’re the first one to come to your senses, pulling away as Jack chases you with his lips and you push against his chest with your right hand.

“We, we can’t do this.” You say through gasping breaths and red swollen lips.

Jacks surprised, he’s hurt. But what did he expect? He looks at you somberly, he wants to say something, but shakes his head and turns to look at the right of him instead.

“You can’t be mad. You’re getting married in a few days, Jack! You have a fiance! And you’re kissing the girl you’ve repeatedly told her not to worry about. That’s fucked up!” You scream.

“I don’t love her. Not like that. Not like you.” He says, looking back at you.

That takes you off guard. That’s a really low blow, especially coming from him. You can’t stop the tears now.

“Bullshit!” You croak out, crossing your arms over yourself, instinctively trying to protect yourself in any way you can.

He tries stepping towards you and you step back, rocks crinkling beneath sneakered feet. He’s the first to stop.

“Daphne, come on. You know it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.” He offers.

“Stop. Stop. I don’t want to hear any more. This is wrong. So wrong.” You throw your hands up and turn around. You’ve almost made it to the door when Jack side swipes you and jumps in front of you, pushing the door to the stairway exit closed.

“Daphne, Daphne, please, stop. Listen to me.”

“Jack, get out of the way.” You say sternly. “Let me go down the stairs.”

You try reaching for the door and he stops you.

“Stop this already. Get out of my way and go back to your future wife, I bet she’s worried about you.”

“I’ll leave. Right now. I’ll go tell her I’m in love with you and can’t marry her. I will.” He’s pleading.

“Oh, stop. You will not. Rachel is a really good girl and she doesn’t deserve that. You know that. You can’t do that to her.” You try.

“I don’t care. Just please don’t leave. I promise you I’ll go downstairs right now and tell her it’s over. I can’t lose you.”

“Ya know that’s a really fucked up thing to say right now. You could’ve said this years ago Jack. It’s too late now.”

“No, no, no. It’s not too late. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to come to my senses, but I’m here now. For you. Me and you. Just say the words.”

You look at Jack Abbot, crumbling in front of you, trying to hold it together. He’s practically on his knees begging you to stay here. But you’re not the right girl. You’re not the one with an Abbot family ring around your finger. You can’t be.

You’re silent.

He waits for a response, but one doesn’t come and after he’s deemed it enough time, he relents. Looking at you, and then away, one last time, turning around and palming the door open. He signals for you to go through.

You listen to him, for once tonight and walk through. Before he closes the door, you turn around and say, “Bye, Jack.”

He purses his lips together and pushes the door closed in response, letting the door close behind him.

Here’s the next part!

[lenorenevermore99]

Hwang In-ho: is he Redeemable?

I've noticed people are way too polarizing when it comes to Hwang In-ho's character. They either see him as just a psychopath with zero humanity and zero potential for redemption (looking at you, reddit) or this little traumatized meow meow who only did bad things because he's suffering.

But things are never that simple.

A few things I want to address in this meta post:

Where Gi-hun and In-ho are different

Why he became the Frontman (in my opinion)

His possibility for Redemption

In-ho is a very complex character, and I'll try to break it down in this post with the limited information we have.

Where he and Gi-hun are different

We all know the similarities between Gi-hun and In-ho. We know that In-ho himself sees his past self in Gi-hun. While they are similar in many aspects, I think they are fundamentally different.

Now, we don't really have In-ho's complete backstory. We know he had a pregnant, sick wife who died. We know has had a half-brother and a step-mother. We know he was a cop and that he lost his job.

I want to focus on this point in particular because, as I see it, this is where Gi-hun and In-ho are fundamentally different.

Gi-hun first worked in a factory, then as a shopkeeper, then as a chauffeur. For all we know, before becoming the Frontman, In-ho only ever worked as a cop, which is a job that can require you to kill.

Likely, he was already a murderer way before entering the games. Which is why, he tells Gihun that he knows that's blood money, but it doesn't matter to him if that's what it takes to save his wife and child. He went into the games the first time, ready to kill because he had already killed before. While Gi-hun, who had a pretty regular job before, was only ready to kill when pushed to the limit. And even then, he refused to do it.

But this guy? This guy never had any hesitation.

I'm not saying being a cop made him a bad person (before the games), even Jun-ho is a cop and he killed people too without hesitation; first when he infiltrated the island, and then to escape.

But he's not a good person either. This is another thing where he and Gi-hun differ. We know from the latter's backstory (the strike, the rebellion) that he puts collective needs above individualistic needs. You would think that a cop would do the same, but given the things he was willing to do to save his wife, I think it's safe to say he's pretty selfish in that regard.

It wasn't the game that changed him, it wasn't the game that traumatized him and made him this ruthless, calculating game master; he was already like that. Someone like Gi-hun, someone idealistic who values human life, would never become the Frontman, it doesn't matter how much they're hurt and traumatized.

The games didn't turn him into a cold-blooded murderer, the games took away the only light and hope he had in life, turning an already ruthless man into a ruthless man with nothing to lose.

Why he became the Frontman (in my opinion)

In-ho was a cop. A job that gives you control, gives you power over others. But when his wife got sick, when he was dragged into the games the first time, he lost control over his life.

I think that, just like Gi-hun, In-ho was unable to go back to his normal life. He was unable to look at his mother and brother in the eyes after everything he had done. Especially since the reason he did all that in the first place, his wife and child, was gone.

He couldn't go back to his family, he couldn't go back to his job, so he went back to the only place where he could have some sort of control. He couldn't control what happened in his life, he couldn't control the circumstances that lead him to the games, but he could control the games now.

All that bullshit about fairness is just what he tells himself to feel better, but the only reason he became the Frontman was because that role gave him some semblance of control over his own life. The very one he had lost.

And this is what drastically reduces his possibilities for redemption, because his reasonings were pretty selfish, and completely avoidable.

Possibility for Redemption?

I do believe there's still some humanity in him. I've seen people say that he doesn't give a fuck about Jun-hee, that if he did he wouldn't have recruited her in the first place. Which is crazy to me, because it's not like he recruits every single person himself, he has employees that do that and keep files on the players. He only ever goes to check those files when he needs to. Like during the glass bridge, he didn't know that player was a glass-maker until he checked his file, just like he didn't know Jun-hee was pregnant before she went to Gi-hun's team to ask for help.

Personally, I think there's no way he'll ever let Jun-hee die. I think whatever's left of his humanity is buried deep inside him, but it's still there. And Jun-hee might be the key to bringing it to the surface.

When it comes to redemption, I cannot see any other redemption for this character that isn't through sacrifice. Whether he sacrifices himself to save Jun-hee, or his brother, or Gi-hun, or to stop the games, that is the only way he could ever atone for what he has done. Because frankly, he doesn't deserve a happy ending. He doesn't deserve to return to his family and be happy when all the people who died in the games couldn't. But self-sacrifice would be a beautiful wrap-up on his character; In-ho finally understanding that humans can make selfless choices, coming to realize the error of his ways, would be a beautiful ending for him.

But of course, this is just my opinion.