#i'm in general v open about my sex life but i HATED having to talk about my sex life with random healthcare professionals who said the

[rebellum]

concept: me, several months ago, going to get my second monkeypox vaccine, and tbh putting it off for a few months because the experience of getting my first dose was so uncomfortable. I walk up to the first person I have to pass by. when she says "UM you KNOW this vaccine is JUST for gay men, RIGHT?" in a really judgemental way, instead of the real awkward response I gave, I instead say "oh, yeah, my boyfriend calls me a faggot during sex, it's all good."

[ronearoundblindly]

The Root Of All Ransom (Finale)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom figures out how to undo his disinheritance.

Warnings for language (I'm never kidding about how many f-bombs this boy drops), smut (blowjob, p in v sex that is consensually unprotected, general smuttery), vague contemplations of murder but we ain't going the canon route. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist. This is not your story!

I have somehow managed to put Ransom Drysdale deep in his feels. This is only OOC if you haven't read up to this point, but we do end on a soft!Ransom note. WC 6954 (oh my fucking wat???)

Ransom huffs out a foggy breath in the night air, cold in more ways than one. All the windows glow from the mansion, yet it looks completely different in light of what Harlan’s done.

Thrombey Manor is his birthright. He doesn’t love the architecture or the eccentric layout. He hates the furniture. He’s never really enjoyed anything about the place. It’s the polar opposite of his own house, but it was his in a way, part of his status, part of his baseline of existence. He’s not prepared for any other eventuality. Ransom built his life on a perfectly stable bridge that some idiot just blew up with C4.

No, no, not some idiot. His own family. The only member of his family he would think could never do this to him. Fuck Harlan.

Ran’s been flying high on a lie, and the magic money carpet’s been ripped away.

He has one lifeline, one option he’s grasping onto.

If he can manage this, nothing will change. He won’t lose the allowance. He won’t lose you. You’ll never know how unworthy he is. He can just have everything and never speak of this again.

Harlan. Marta. Inheritance. Killing two birds with one liquid stone.

Ran could do it. He will do it, but you cannot know. He can’t have you around. He has to push, to start giving you a safe distance, to leave you plausible deniability. If you suspect, you’ll leave him anyway. 

If he succeeds, worst case? He’s rich and alone. If he does nothing? He’ll be poor and alone.

One of those scenarios used to be acceptable, but not now, not anymore.

Pushing you away tonight might be the last time you ever look at him without pity, and he’s not ready for how heavy that sits in his roiling gut. He has to though. He has to make you leave, if only for the rest of the night—but it might be forever, his brain reminds him. Fucker. It’s not like Ran’s pleasant to be around. Getting away from him shouldn’t be a hard sell.

When you emerge from the house, however, what he hoped would sound sharp and dismissive sounds oddly open-ended.

“You could just walk from here,” he tries wishfully.

True to form, beautiful, pissed-off you sidesteps his expectations.

You take his coat, your coat, and the Birkin to the passenger’s side with a ferocious look.

“Get in the car,” you manage through tight lips.

Fuck. He misses you already. He hasn’t given up. He won’t, but his center of gravity is gone. He’s reeling from this.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale revolves around money.

His whole life he has stretched wide and greedy limbs to capture numbered, green rays of meaning. He hasn’t only lost the light of his sun now. No. Nuclear winter has just stripped him bare and knocked him on his ass. Ran cannot articulate all the reasons he’s so upset.

He values you and him together for relatively selfish reasons. From all he’s seen, you don’t need any more people in your life that exist so far below you. You don’t need ‘help.’ You need an equal, a free and independent equal. Ran isn’t even fucking close anymore.

With a stroke of a pen, he’s now dependent. It’s pathetic. If he stays without even the means to be your not-quite-equal, then he’s everything he hates. He’ll be clingy. He’ll be needy. He’ll be in the way. He’ll finally do it; he will annoy you.

He will bore you.

What a fucking world.

You snap him out of his dashboard stare.

“Do you want to talk about it now or at home?”

“Neither,” he quips easily. “I’ll drop you at the Carlyle’s.”

His eye twitches at his faux pas. You don’t have to correct him. He knows it’s your place, your name, your property, and your right to claim. He doesn’t need reminding.

His key twists in the ignition just as your hand comes up to his shoulder.

He can’t even glare at you properly because a tap rings off his window pane. Both of you jump in alarm because night fell hours ago. Who sneaks up on a car in the fucking dark?

Ran’s father is fucking who. Of course. The window peels down, and Ransom feels as if the last seconds of his life are draining away after the plug’s been pulled.

“Trouble in paradise, you two?” Dick asks with cheeky concern.

“No, Mister Drysdale,” you say politely, no hint of insincerity in your smile.

“Richard, please, honey. You’re practically family.”

Smug asshole, do NOT call her ‘honey.’

“Eat shit,” Ransom mutters overly loud again, but your sudden slow grip on his kneecap tells him to behave. Ol’ Dick has no right to call you ‘honey’ though. Ran’s not even sure what he’s allowed to call you, and he’s pissed, sure. He’s…something else, too; he’s obedient beneath your hand.

Richard ignores Ran’s attitude. “Listen, son, I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, your mother and I will always love you. In case…ya know, in case you ever doubted, and…well, we’re family. We stick together.” He even gives Ran a squeeze on the shoulder for emphasis.

Ransom has no fucking clue what his father intends with that entirely useless statement but doesn’t fucking care. “You know what?” He’s about to lunge out the window to choke that fucking prick. “Definitely eat shit.”

Your grip tightens, and Ran’s insides clench, knowing he toes a line.

“We should really go,” you add with a now painful, strained civility.

“Okay, you crazy kids,” Richard pats his heavy hand on the door frame. “Thanks for coming to the party and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, Richard.”

Ransom rolls the window back up without looking at you. That sure as shit was not his father’s reaction to Harlan throwing millions at Marta fucking Candelabra. He can’t be near these people anymore, so Ran slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway, and scattering gravel in his wake.

Your sigh releases with the pressure on his knee. “I suspect it’s about his affair.”

As if that narrows it down. “Which one?”

“The first one as far as your grandpa knows,” you snort, “which hopefully Linda buys too from the way you’ve talked about it. Jesus, really? Slow down!”

Ran doesn’t want to slow down. The car is finally catching up to his racing thoughts and a plan coalescing. If Harlan knows about Richard’s affair, then his mother will absolutely divorce him, leaving Dick with nothing—and if you know that Harlan knows about it then—

“Hugh—” the hand has slid from his knee to his crotch, the heel of your palm gently digging into the stiff fabric of his jeans “—we should have taken care of you before…”

Fuck, that feels good.

You’re right, of course. Ran really should have planned a few minutes of privacy for you both to get off after the airport. Not that it’d have to be private for him (parking lot, terminal, or tarmac—he wouldn’t fucking care), but the thought flashes in his mind like the bright spots behind his eyelids that he might not get to fuck you again. That’s profoundly upsetting, and your grip on the outline of his swelling cock is profoundly distracting.

He swats at your arm, blood rushing to his tension-white knuckles only for a second, but you simply swivel in the seat to change hands, dragging down his zipper.

“Sweetheart“ slips out. Is he allowed to say that anymore? He should still act normal, right? Except he’s been a raging mess for a quarter-hour already and oh fuck. “What are you…”

Ran’s been wrong this whole time: you are a road head bitch.

He’s so taken aback by your spit-slicked lips cooly brushing the head of him that he nearly elbows your spine. The car swerves slightly as he strains to collect himself, to think of just one other thing instead of your fucking tongue sliding down his length to tease at his still-covered balls and—

Mother of fucking mercy, he has to pull over.

Only by some miracle, some blessed (or horrible) gap in his distraction, is he able to consciously choose parking off the lane just beyond the menagerie elephant statue because, otherwise, that pervy-ass groundskeeper could relive his long-forgotten past of grainy porn. Because that’s what this is turning into. Pornographic is the only way to describe the choked grunt Ran finally lets out as he slams on the brake and you snap the car into park just to get the gear shift out of your way.

“I’m only here three days,” you say around a mouthful of cock, bobbing a few more times before switching to your hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it by being fucking baby.”

“I’m not—fuck—“ he’s not expecting you to climb over him in the cramped car “—you don’t understand.”

“So you don’t want me right now?”

He shakes his head furiously, half in hope of collecting genuine thought, half in desperation for you to continue.

Space is so limited between Ran’s body and the steering column that your bent knees pin his arms to the door and the console. It should hurt but fuck if he’s gonna say anything while he watches you peel your panties to the side and line yourself up. 

“Gah, you just—“ he pants as his heart rate spikes. Instead of putting him in you, Ran’s paralyzed to stop two of your fingers from sinking into your soaked pussy. You’re drooling for him, mouth and cunt, and goddamn, he is so torn between pounding you into next week or tossing you out of the car to get on with his plan.

It’s about an 80/20 split in favor of fucking you.

And then he thinks…yeah, he could definitely get off and get you to the Carlyle’s—your place—in time to sneak back. So he just lets go, shoving his face forward to capture your lips, enjoying the wet sounds as you prep for him, and eating up your moans and curses. He knows you’re purposefully dragging your knuckles against his dick as you bring them out with each stroke. Why are you so fucking hot? Why can’t he just have this without Harlan’s help? 

He’s dependent.

Ran realizes he always was, but he fucking hates it.

Removing your fingers makes the bunched-up dress pool over your hips and graze his raging erection. Great, now your spit and his precum are smeared all over your clothes. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. Normally, that would be even hotter. Now, Ran wonders how much that damn thing costs because he never even looked; he just knew it suited you.

A steady grip at his base and suddenly Ran can’t wonder about any fucking thing under the sun. Your walls welcome him inch by inch like he’s goddamn worthy of that silky squeeze, but he can’t say shit. All he can manage is craning his neck forward to mouth over your nearest breast, arms still pinned. Fuck it. More fluids on the dress. If you don’t care, he doesn’t care. Maybe. Maybe he’ll just care later. Maybe he’ll learn to look at the cost of things. Maybe he won’t have to when he succeeds at fixing this dumpster fire of a situation.

His teeth graze against a barely felt but hard-peaked nipple, and you gasp out another moan. You have to shift to wedge your leg down by his side and repeat with the other one. One of his forearms is tingling, asleep, so he switches his mouth around and uses the functioning arm to play.

You’re moving so slow, too slow.

“You fucking love to mess with me,” Ran growls, all but biting through the layers before yanking at the neckline, savoring the plush skin he exposes. “Love fucking me,” he mutters again.

“Yeah, baby, why do you think that is?” You use the name so condescendingly and roll your hips so deliberately that Ransom bites back a ‘fuck you,’ instead forcing out a strangled whine. You just drag yourself up and down until he answers, pushing his t-shirt and an errant tail of his cardigan out of the way. Your fingers gently scratch the flat plain of his abs.

“Say it.”

He knows the answer. He’s known for a while, but that’s not something Ran’s ever gonna be ready for. It’s just already the truth.

It’s as soft as a hum against your skin.

“Say it, Hugh. Tell me why.”

He can tell by how you’re getting sloppier with your movement, by how hard you grind forward against him, that you’re close.

“Because you love me.” Ran winces at how desperate he sounds. It’s almost a cry, but he can’t really resist repeating it. “You love me.”

Your hands bury in his hair, and he’s literally covered in you while trapped in this fucking steam room of a car. He can’t control anything he’s doing.

“You love me,” he says again.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

You’re fluttering around his cock like a dream, shouting encouragement, and it just slips out.

“I love you.”

He has no idea if you even hear him because you come so hard that your back bends, slamming you against the steering wheel.

The horn blares in the quiet woods.

You wait for him to yank you forward and erupt into sated giggles while Ran is a whole different kind of paralyzed, hiding his face in your chest for as long as you’re simmering without care.

Your fingers card through sweaty hair, your heartbeat slowing more than his does.

“Think you need this,” you say in a breathy whisper. You pull away to cradle his face.

He’s terrified you’re gonna ask. You’re gonna want him to say it again, he thinks, and Ran’s not sure he can with your eyes boring into his, knowing what he knows, being what he is until the will is void.

“I want you to come, Hugh.” Your thumb traces across his bottom lip, gaze following before it flickers back up.

You sound so fucking innocent while your slick is smeared all over his low belly and seeping through his underwear. His boxers are kinda in the way but kinda immovable while in such cramped quarters. Pushed aside, they hinder only as much as your bunched-up panties do. Easy enough to live with.

You keep staring expectantly.

“Do you want me to stop—“ fuck NO “—or will you give me what I want?”

Ran’s whole chest clenches, and it’s only because he slams his mouth to yours that you can’t see his eyes roll in fucking ecstasy. Perfect. You’re goddamn perfect. He couldn’t deny you anything much less this, and he knows that if this is the last time, he has to take advantage.

Sliding down slightly on the seat (because everything operates in centimeters at most this close), he takes two giant handfuls of your ass and spreads you, lifting so he can thrust his hips up at a brutal pace. He doesn’t fucking care if his knees bang against unyielding metal. He doesn’t care that a vein in his neck might snap from strain. He just needs this one thing, and then he’ll let it go. He’ll be ready for whatever outcome Harlan’s death triggers.

Because Ransom needs money. He had money long before he had you. It’s what he needs the most in life. He loves money.

If losing you is what it takes to keep the money…

That’s the thought he can’t finish as control of the urge to come slips from his bruising fingers. His desire for his status quo is faltering. His equilibrium’s changed.

He does love money. He does.

Now, to Ran's surprise, he loves you, and he has no fucking clue how to love both. He doesn’t know if he can keep both.

But friction is friction. He’s surrounded by the feel and sound and smell of sex. It’s familiar and more than a little haunting to him if this is the last time, but Ran crests that mountain before any coherent thoughts form. He can’t trust himself to speak. He might repeat what he never should have said aloud.

The groan when he empties himself inside you is almost pained, swallowed immediately by your adoring and hungry kiss. He’s sweat straight through his t-shirt and his jeans are a fucking mess. Your dress is damp, stained, and wrinkled. You’re practically bonded to the leather seat, but he just absently runs the back of his fingers up and down your thighs while he comes down.

When you release his mouth, your arms settle across his shoulders, and he buries his face in your chest again, hiding, relishing, stalling.

Shit, he’s gonna miss this.

After a minute, you rest your forehead against his and lift your hips until his limp dick slides out of you. Through half-closed eyes Ran watches you bite your bottom lip, gnaw on it like he wants to, like he moves to—

“Is this about the will?”

Ran freezes.

“Did—Harlan told you, didn’t he?”

“WHAT THE SHIT.” Ran’s rage explodes, heaving you off of him and into the passenger’s seat. “YOU FUCKING KNEW?!”

He shoves himself back in his pants and scrambles for the damn zipper.

“Ransom, it’s fine. He just—“

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you warn me? Jesus FUCK.” He’s unlatched and kicked the door open before you even get a word out.

“Harlan is my friend and—“

But he slams it shut, leaving your words muffled while Ran fumes in damp fucking clothes in the frigid air.

His fists almost—almost—pound on the hood of his car as he bites out, “I could have killed him.” 

Ran’s pacing toward the tree line when you finally shuffle from the beamer, pulling your dress back into place.

“Harlan’s my friend and he asked me in confidence if it made sense.”

“I’m sorry, he asked you? As in, my grandfather might not have done this if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus.”

“It wasn’t just about you.”

“It makes sense to leave me destitute? And you knew! You lying bitch,” he growls, immediately wishing the word hadn’t popped out, clawing at his scalp in a punishing attempt to think. “You watched me throw all that fucking money away and didn’t think I deserved to know?!“

“I’ve met you. Why would you listen to me about how to spend your money? That isn’t something you do, Ransom.”

“That’s not the point!” And stop calling me fucking ‘Ransom.’ “I can handle myself.”

“Then I guess your answer is ‘that’s how you spent the money,’ by choice.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. You lied to me. You’re the one who didn’t trust me.”

Your stalk forward in the dry leaves, stopping just outside of arm’s length away. “What the hell did I just say in there, huh? I love you. I said I love you, then you go and call me a bitch, so who’s the liar between us, huh? Who’s got trust issues?”

Ran’s face scrunches in distain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Guess,” you spit back easily. 

Well, he isn’t fucking saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck this. This is the worst-case scenario: poor and alone because if you know, he can never get away with his plan.

“Why do you always do that?” he growls with a venom that poisons no one but himself. “Why the fuck are you here then?” Why are you with him?

“I’m here to support my piece of shit boyfriend at a piece of shit family event because Hugh asked me to.”

Nope. The right name is wrong. It sounds much worse than he expected.

Ran doesn’t know what to do with all this sick energy churning in his gut except burn through it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his life.

“There it is. There’s the truth,” he yells, leaning into your face. “I know it. You know it. This isn’t going to work. We’re not the fucking same. We’re not even close—“

“I don’t want someone the same as me.”

“I’m a useless—”

“Ran.” Your hands fly to gently land on his face.

“—talentless—“

“Seriously, please.”

“—sack of shit and you—“

“HUGH!” The grip at his jaw slips as he jerks back.

Ran tenses, shoving his chilled fingers into his jean pockets, pushing the wet material in front away from his crotch. He goes awkwardly quiet.

Yelling. He remembers the yelling. He’s been comfortable with yelling for longer than he’s been comfortable with affection.

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” You cross your arms over you chest and shiver. “This. This bullshit is why I didn’t tell you, but so what? You don’t have your own money. How do you think Harlan and I started out?”

He gives a look that shouts back everything he can’t put into words.

“You’re not useless or talentless. You’re entitled. That’s all, and you can change that state of being pretty fucking easily.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? Be a houseboy who eats you out once a week?”

“A week? Well, I hope I pay better than that.”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he grouches.

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that. “You started these jokes!”

“You don’t have to rub it in—”

“—just rub it out, huh?”

He doesn’t want to laugh. It’s not funny. His fate isn’t a laughing matter, but like everything else tonight, he fucking fails. A smile twitches at his lips.

“Ok, asshole, you want to be useful? How ‘bout driving us home? I’m freezing.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a flinging arm.

“If you don’t get in this damn car, you will be helping me balance to pee in those woods.”

“Fucking gross,” Ran whines.

“Yeah, well, your ability to self-access is appalling too,” you jovially clap back, “but we’re working with what we’ve got.”

Fair.

Savage but fair.

He frowns and follows you into the car.

You talk his ear off on the way to his house, but he isn’t in the least bit annoyed. He’s engrossed. It’s all a type of flattery Ransom can hardly fathom: honest praise.

“I was miserably alone before you.”

He wouldn’t have pegged that based on how he saw you at all those events, but now that he considers how you’ve opened up about your frustrations and the exhaustion of being the center of attention, it makes sense. Ransom takes attention away from you. He loves that shit. He doesn’t even care if it’s negative attention. Hide behind his broad back and shine that spotlight on him; he’s game.

“You know what people you pay to be around you—people who want something from you don’t do? Argue. No one has a real conversation. No one has an opinion contradictory to yours. No one calls you out on your shit. It’s so…”

“Boring,” he whispers without thinking.

There’s a long pause until you continue softly.

“No one calls me out on my shit except you, only you.“ 

Your hand finds his. Though your skin is cold, he’s warmed by the touch. 

“So no, I don’t think my money will change anything. If money—mine or yours—were going to change you, it would have done it by now. I mean, sure, you could stand to be less of a dick sometimes, but you don’t have to. I already…”

Your voice trails off, and Ran knows. That’s just it. You love him and he’s a dick, the poor asshole who understands what the feeling is, the one who can’t say it, not on purpose, not yet. The tectonic shift in his life’s framework leaves him uneasy. As wonderful as you are, as perfect as this has been, he has to start over.

He has to build himself up from scratch. He’s been transplanted to an alien planet that he doesn’t have the means to make hospitable. Money was his means to everything. Money provided for him. Money protected him. Money separated him from others.

He never had space for two in his now-demolished castle of selfishness.

“I thought I’d be with someone so different from you,” you laugh without heart. “I’m…glad I was wrong.”

All he can manage is a squeeze of your hand.

“But Hugh, you’re proud of my success, not fucking threatened by it. You let me work, but you also know when I need a break and won’t take one. You’re devoted without being smothering because you have your own damn life, things you want to do. You aren’t intimidated by all this shit in my stupid world or the money. You don’t give a fuck what other people say.”

That’s true.

“You make me laugh,” you say quietly, and though he can’t see your face in the dark of the road leading to his neighborhood, he hears your smile. “You asshole.”

As he turns into the driveway, he glances over and winks. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

He watches that throwaway statement melt you, and then he realizes why.

Ransom trying to do absolutely fucking anything is a big fucking deal, and he has tried. He simply has no idea where to go from here.

He turns off the beamer and makes no move to get out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Your hand releases his to glide up his arm and lace through his hair, lightly rubbing the base of his neck. “Help me,” you breathe.

“How the fuck would I help you?”

“Hugh,” you cock your head to the side, retracting both arms to brush your palms down the fabric of your (ruined) skirt, “you know damn well you’d like to control my whole wardrobe. You would do far better dressing me for all those functions than I do…and undressing me.”

He knows what you’re doing, but instead of smiling or laughing, he tightens his jaw and huffs. “Can I burn some of your—“ he does half air-quotes “—'wardrobe?'”

It’s so hideous. That one black dress you keep fucking wearing? No amount of dry cleaning will make that look new again. That’s getting flambéed.

You purse your lips. “Donate, but yes. I would consider that a huge help.”

“You’re serious.” Ran’s not sure whether he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yes. I am. Thank you for noticing.” You swivel to open the door. “Now, you can also help get my bag in while I use the restroom.”

The dance of readying for bed becomes you pointing out things you have now that you did not have before him. Taste being one of them, Ran thinks to himself. The important thing is he could say that to your face, but he’s strategically not pushing his luck tonight.

It’s true. Nearly every article of clothing and every toiletry now links back to his insistence that you have nice things that are for you, not just for life in general. You come before the rest of the world; you come before your work. That’s his gift. That’s what he’s good at, and you make it clear: you need him for that talent.

All of these nice things, all these reasons he seems good to you, and all this need for him have Ran feeling some sorta way when you crawl into his bed naked and reach to turn off the light.

He grabs your hand before you make it to the switch, forcing it back to the mattress, keeping you facedown. His heated breath and heavy body roll over you, teeth grazing your shoulder and moving slowly to your earlobe.

“You know what else I’m good for?”

His free hand slips between your thighs and finds what slick you couldn’t clean up. The knowledge that some of it is his cum still inside you makes Ran shudder. How would he ever have lived without this?

You sigh, your mouth falling open at the intrusion, and your eyelids flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you moan, high and quiet.

“That’s right, baby,” he hisses, mimicking your condescension from the car. Oh yeah, he’s gonna ruin more than that goddamn dress tonight.

He takes time to torture you with his fingers, his weight rendering you immobile. Ran sweeps falling hair out of your face with free reign to pepper open-mouthed kisses across the stretch of skin he’s claimed since that very first fuck.

You always knew what you wanted. He never thought you’d truly want him, certainly not for more than a day. After tonight, it’s inconceivable you want him still, yet here you are, burying your face in the sheets to muffle little cries as he humps your ass cheek to get harder and harder.

Good god, why do you want him? He fucked around, he yelled at you, he called you horrible names, he left you for weeks at a time in a foreign country alone, and yet you are here.

Then your words spring to mind. He argues with you. He has opinions. He makes you laugh. He treats you like the independent person you are. He treats you like your money doesn’t matter.

Because it didn’t to him.

Ransom realizes now that you treat him as if his money didn’t matter because it doesn’t to you. Nothing changed when you knew he wouldn’t have it anymore. Not a single thing. Somewhere over the last months, Harlan told you his plan, and the only perceptible difference to Ran was you falling in love with him.

Because you love him. He is so grateful he’s almost angry. You could do better. He can give you better.

By the time you come on Ran’s fingers, he’s completely feral thinking about all those little ways you showed your feelings, all the ways you showed him kind touch is not weakness. You also showed him that touch doesn’t have to be weak to be kind. He can be rough with his feelings for you, intense as they are. He can sink his cock into you, practically screaming that he loves you, too, but the words aren’t spoken.

He presses a thick forearm across your back to keep you pinned. He spreads his legs to widen yours. He thrusts in possessive and messy movements. No words escape. His range of motion is limited this way, but he gets all of your glorious noises. They’ve become his favorite sleep track. It’s hard for him to rest without hearing your happy, panicked pleasure beforehand.

You make desperate fists in the sheets and arch your ass up higher. He sees the unnatural strain in your body, all for him, all so he can have just that fucking tiny bit more of you.

He can’t stay in this position forever though. You’ll never come again like this, and he wants to see your face. The car was dark, but the lamp is still on. He can watch you fall apart with him deep inside.

“Turn,” he orders, enjoying how dazed and shaky you are as you struggle to control your muscles.

You’re a sight. Erratic breaths hardly settle your gasps. Pliable and ruined. Torn to whimpering pieces and stitched back together only to be split apart again.

He drinks in his handiwork, climbing slowly between your legs, delicately helping to cross your heels at his ass, and sinking back into your heat slowly, so slowly, like your teasing in the car.

“Hugh,” you mutter, and fuck, he has never heard you beg.

Ransom has always loved sex, but this is different. He meets your glazed eyes with floundering blue depths and wonders why he can’t just enjoy it as basic sex anymore.

He’s always loved money, too, and although he doesn’t want to take it from you, Ran feels the weight of your charity. Money was his sun, his whole world, but it was not enough. You provide more, warmth that lets him spread out in contentment, light that keeps him from withering.

Money doesn’t need his love; it’s indifferent.

You, on the other hand, you are fucking radiant, glowing and hot with his arm tucked beneath your shoulders to grab at your hairline. He makes you look at him. Your fingernails scratch at his back while your hips grind together.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles, nose almost touching yours. “Come on, sweetheart—“ Ran drops to lave kisses down your bared throat “—one more for me.”

This time, you have no words, only grunting uh and hng as he speeds up. Your noises get higher. Ran gets rougher, a brutal rhythm for a brutal realization.

He can’t hold back when he sees you like this; he’s gonna say it.

He gets close, so very close to breaking, but you fall first.

“Please—ah.”

You fucking writhe beneath him, your whole body spasming like your silky pussy ripples over the sensitive skin of his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl.”

He has to chance meeting your eyes because he wants to see you unravel again. Ran always does whatever he wants.

He slows his hips to intermittent thrusts that sizzle your nerves over and over, pulling his arm out from under you to lift your chin. You’re open for him in every sense of the word, and he is fucked in every possible way.

He’s an amoeba of a man staring evolution in the face.

You’re his. It’s clear in the light that he owns you. He’s earned you, or at least, he’s trying to. That’s a big deal for Ransom Drysdale.

Quivering, your mouth hanging open, his thumb rolling over your swollen bottom lip, he gets one word.

“Daddy.”

Barely a whisper, partly a question, but mostly an invitation. He slides his thumb up into your mouth, only letting you suck on it for a moment before it drags out.

Ran never thought you’d ever say that. He never imagined you’d beg either. You’ve always known what you want and taken it. You have never needed anything from him.

“Please,” you say again, holding your mouth wider still.

Shit. He throbs at the prospect, and he’s too far gone to deny you this. He plants one small peck on your jaw before pulling out and clambering over your hips and chest.

“Ah fuck,” he moans when you suck on one of his balls, stroking him with a smooth and firm grip. “Love y—love your mouth…so much.”

Ran leans against his headboard, hand clamped over his trap in a desperate attempt not to blabber, but you continue. You’re in tune with when he’s ready, when you’ve taken the teasing far enough and he needs to come. His hips stutter to shove himself just a little farther down your throat. He collects his wits only enough not to choke you, muffling a cry.

You’re gentle with him as he loses his absolute shit trying to keep it together, thighs shaking, breath hindered, biting the fuck out of his hand.

“Sorry, I…” he tries.

“I…I—“ he tries again.

He just can’t fucking do it.

Ran digs his palms so hard into his eyes he sees stars. His chest is tight like it’ll explode any second. The relief of orgasm has evaporated instantly, and he just really fucking can’t.

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, shifting up onto your kneels behind him, “it’s okay.” Your warm arms encircle his chest, over one shoulder and under the other, and you pull his own pliable and ruined body toward you.

He collapses back on his heels, leaning against you.

“Hugh, it’s alright.” Your whisper makes his eyes sting. “I know.”

Ran raises his arms to hold your wrists. His head drops to kiss the back of your hand. He still stays silent.

“I know…”

Your bare legs stretch across his lap, and Ransom lets the hand warmed by his mug grasp your ankle gently. You’re off in your own mind, staring out the window of his living room, worrying your bottom lip. He watches while you don’t notice.

Ran never particularly liked the unknown, and after Harlan’s shit last night, he’s off surprises for a fucking lifetime. This, however, this with you, sitting in comfortable quiet, makes him feel perfectly at ease with an unsure future.

For someone so fascinating to him, you’re so normal.

Sure, you’re beauty trumps the view outside, you’re dedicated to your work, and you’re smart enough to run circles around anyone, but…

You’re just you, sitting with a hot drink on his couch in the morning, wearing one of his sweaters again. Could be a sixty-dollar sweater from a thrift shop—or six cents for all Ran knows about secondhand sales—or the six-hundred-dollar one that he stoopidly bought three weeks ago; it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing that matters to him now is who wears it. That garment means nothing without you in it.

You sip at your tea, and he follows, staring at you staring at the world.

You two spoke more about it last night in the dark about everything but that one little phrase that’s eating him alive, a tangled mess of yourselves and the sheets. Nothing has to change except where the money comes from. Ran gets what he’s wanted all along: control over your wardrobe and, essentially, your entire presentation to that world you’re staring out into. He is not, however, permitted to burn your favorite Little Black Dress, but for fuck’s sake he’ll get all of its seams checked and the damn thing refitted. He’s hoping if he makes enough fuss, you’ll choose to toss it just to shut him up.

Fucking rules. Ran hates rules. If you kept standards on par with your New Money maybe he’d follow your rules. He’ll get you in the good stuff: the good house with good furniture, the good clothing with good lingerie beneath, right down to the good wash and lotion.

You can keep your perfume. He likes your perfume.

Yes, he’ll get you into what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and all that implies. Ransom always gets what he wants…because you let him.

It’s remarkable what you let him fucking do, too.

He slides his hand from your ankle to your knee, knocking you out of your reverie just in time for his phone to buzz.

He holds your legs to him while sneaking a glance at the screen. Linda. Fuck no, he’s not answering that. It’s not Sunday and he’s not ditching anything. Fucking wait. Fucking choke for all he cares.

Ran instead sets his nearly empty mug down beside your two phones on the coffee table and curls up in your corner of couch. You open your arms to tuck him into your chest, and sure, it’s cutesy and gross in a way that should make Ran want to gag, but who fucking cares when he’s this comfortable. He plants a kiss right on your nipple through the knit for fun, feeling you shiver, then listens to your heart.

His phone vibrates again, dancing closer to the stoneware he just put down.

His mother’s persistence is as admirable as it is annoying. Predictably, Ran’s bored by her usual shit and ignores it again.

Instead of pushing up his sweater to wrap an arm around your waist though, he shoves his now chilly fingers between your hot thighs and sighs. His ear rings with the airy sound of your laugh through flesh.

Then your phone dings, and he just fucking knows it’s her. His groaned protest goes unheeded as you swap your mug for the device and bring it to you.

Ran snorts, and you smooth your free hand over his hair.

“Hello—“ there are harsh but restrained mumbles but he can’t make out the words “—Linda, why on Earth would I be with a man the night he yelled at me like that?”

Because you love him, Ran thinks, but he hears garbled disappointment from the other end.

“And after how your brother and his wife acted—” more rushed excuses “—I don’t have time to go around looking for your adult baby. I have work to do and a plane to catch.” There’s obvious desperation in Linda’s tone, but you don’t care. “Goodbye.”

You let your phone drop to the rug, carding fingers through his hair before finishing with little scratches. Your nonchalance is still pure honesty. You wouldn’t waste time on him, not if you didn’t want him, and you did not let him speak to you that way for more than three sentences because you knew exactly how to shut him up.

“Vicious little bitch,” you mutter.

And…in all your perfect, honest, niceness, you called his mother a bitch—not to her face but you’ll get there, Ran’s sure.

He fucking loves you. He is really so fucking in love with you that it’s fucking gross. He’s disgusted and doesn’t fucking care.

After a big sigh, your hand finds his between your legs and moves it to cup your sex. “Where were we?”

Ransom shifts up over you at the same time as you slide beneath him on the buttery leather cushions. His wildly true and blue eyes meet yours with stern sincerity.

He’s looking at everything he ever wanted, and it’s not money. There are all sorts of things he can use to survive, loads of things he can replace, an infinite amount to take, but only one you, only one complete package. Not a thing. Not replaceable. Finite. Earned. New. Fascinating. Teasing. Messy. Sexy. A total hardass badass with a great ass.

Ran lays his hand heavier on that thin layer of silk, possession laced in the caress, and the words just flow right out.

“Marry me.”

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Oh my god, gang, I can't believe I fucking did it. Truly, this fic has been one of the craziest things I've ever attempted, and honestly, I'm so damn proud. I'm proud that I wrote it, I'm proud that it's over, and I'm proud of whatever reception it gets. I murdered my soul for this and am delighted. Thank you all so much for reading!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[florencicle]

reallu long rant below tw for talkimg ab sex in general

i love my best friend to death. i do. i genuinely love her so much but today she just absolutely pressed my last button and i snapped and i feel bad about it but like. basically for context my best friend was like super popular in hs and ms and then there was always Me. like it was (let's call her L) it was "omg there's L!!" and then me trailing behind her. the only reason i wasn't a complete loser in high school was because she stood up for me to everyone who even dared talk shit or be mean to me. and like not to say that this was one of those really horrible friendships in the movies where the popular girl is always mean to her best friend - that's not the case at all. this girl is genuinely my platonic soulmate and she has saved my life on multiple occasions and she is the reason i am still here. i love her to death. but her popularity really just . bothers me ?? i guess. that sounds super like gross and jealous but i'm not jealous. i like my solitude. but she's always got people in her dms who want to date her and shes always in the talking stage with someone or like she's always getting hit on. she's talking to this guy who she REALLY likes and this other guy who she's kinda just like leading on and like it's so frustrating. even though i told her like hey man as someone who was JUST in that situation it kinda sucks you really shouldn't lead that boy on and she's like but it's just hard to open up to (original boy she likes) and it's ez to open up to this guy and so i want to keep him around as an option. and the boy has like no problem with this bcus ik him personally and like he's also talking to other girls at the same time so it's not really the whole like leading him on thing that bothers me. it's just like. idk it makes me feel kinda outcasted and insecure hwen it comes to talking about our romantic lives because she's always talking to someone she really likes and i'm either recuperating from a bad situation or i'm in a bad situation. i have never had a romantic relationship that has ever treated me like a human being. /srs. i think that's why i'm still caught up on this whole thing that just happened bcus for once in my life i felt like someone actually cared about me and actually liked me for me and treated me like i fucking mattered. it just is so alienating to me whenever she talks about it because i don't understand how she opens herself up for love so easily after rejections and bad situations. it's so so so hard for me to open up to friends, let alone someone i'm romantically interested in, and so i can just never relate to her. and i hate opening up, i do, zone wohld know, they've asked countless times for me to talk about my feelings and i just. Can't. so for her to just be like yeah i'll keep this guy around as an option u know just to be safe it's so ??? and upsetting bcus i don't get options. i get one person who i think i like and then i hesitantly open up and then boom. they do something shitty or they leave me and i'm left to pick up the pieces and there goes any chance of me opening up to anyone for the next 700 years. after i broke up with my ex last august it took me literally an entire year to let myself even think about the idea of a romantic relationship. my friend can just rebound so easily and i don't get it. i dont connect to people the way she does and whenever i connect to people there's just something so horribly wrong about me that makes them want to leave or that makes them treat me like garbage. and it's just. i'm almost 20 and ive never been on a real date and im still the v word and im so so so behind on everything. i cannot connect to people easily and it's even harder for me to make them stay and it's just. i wonder how she can do it and i can't and it's like. there's gotta be something wrong with me. i've done everything. i've changed my hair i got piercings i changed my style i put effort into my appearance and still nobody wants me (mitski ref) and the people who do want me end up hurting me. i just cannot for the LIFE of me understsnd what is so wrong about me.

oh my god i hit the maximum for a text block i didn't even know that was a thing. anyways. i've spent the last couple of days rotting in my room trying to figure out why i can't be a normal teenage girl and go on dates. i have to LIKE LIKE the person to even consider a date with them. i have to be practically in love to even consider having sex with them. i kissed a guy in july. we are good friends, we went to see lovejoy together like. that's my homie fr. we kissed and it wasn't a bad kiss but i wasn't attracted to him. i was sick to my stomach for weeks /srs. i genuinely was nauseous and ill and i felt gross for weeks because i just wasn't attracted to him. and it's like. my friends r out having sex and going on dates and i can't even consider sex with someone i don't like like. and they're like oh sex isn't even that such a big deal like once u have ur first time it's genuinely not special you don't need to give ur v card to a special person and it's like. it's not that. i could care less about sex and your first time being some sacred important thing or whatever, i just don't feel comfortable having sex with a total stranger. i was so opposed to the idea of even having sex with my ex because i wasn't attracted to him anymore towards the end and i just .. to me sex is such an intimate thing and it's so vulnerable and i hate being vulnerable that i would rather die a virgin than have sex with someone i met on tinder. and i don't get it. why can't i be normal?? why can't i just be normal and go on dates and let people in so easily?? i just genuinely want to be Normal and be okay with the idea of talking romantically to multiple people at once. i just want to be able to talk about my many different options wjth my friends instead of me sitting there like a fucking dweeb who's recovering from another hesrtbreak. like i don't understand how they can give themselves to multiple people at once because when i like someone i give them everything i have. i give every bit of effort that i have to make it work andnit just doesn't and i am always left heartbroken because i just can't be normal and be happy with the idea of talking to someone romantically and not expecting a relationship. why r we talking romantically if there's going to be no relationship. i don't get it. that doesn't make any sense to me. one time my best friend called me a serial monogamist and i think that's 1. really fucking funny and 2. it's just true. i don't see the point in fooling around and it's what's gotten me heartbroken so many times bcus im just seen as something to fool around with. a fun summer fling or someone to get them through the winter. i just . it's hard to believe that this has happened to me three fucking times already but it's because i keep putting myself in those situations. i keep putting myself in the position to be heartbroken because i can't be normal and want to have a fling. i dunno. it's all so stupid and i wish hookup culture didn't fucking exist and people weren't so shitty and i wish that i was actually loveable and capable of being given love. i deserve it. i do i know i do. i may be a bitch and a cunt but i've never done anytning Bad in my life. i deserve to be loved the way everyone else is being loved. i deserve it and yet i cant fuckimg receive it

[syubub]

BTS cuddle habits

Hi guys! I wanted to have a fun little silly read on what their cuddle habits are! It's cute and light and soft so I thought it might be nice!

Disclaimer: this is entertainment only and not to be taken as fact. This is only my interpretation!

Oki let's begin

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Seokjin

The first thing I thought of when I saw this is that he's not a strong grip cuddle kinda guy

He's more of the "if you're there and need cuddles I'll do it I guess" kinda guy

I think too he's very vigilant and whomever he is cuddling he is very aware of how to maximize the other person's comfort?

Like it almost seems for him, he'd be fine without cuddles

It's just not important to him as much as it is for others

But he knows that some people feel good when they get cuddles

So

All this to say

He doesn't preticularly seek out cuddles and prefers to be the one doing the cuddling

He knows that it's a way to give others comfort

It's definitely a low energy kinda thing for him too

I think any kinda pseudo cuddle would be preferable

Like, "I'm laying next to you and tapping your head, does that count"

Lol

It's a way to show comfort and to show that he's there for the person.

Definitely takes that time to learn more about why the person might be sad or in need of cuddles

It's a perfect time to talk it out

Definitely platonic cuddles wouldn't faze him at all

10/10

Very comforting

He'd give advice if needed or prompted

Wouldn't particularly tangle himself up with the other person

More like comforting "I'm here for you" back rubs and taps

Playing with hair

Yoongi

STOP

Yoongi no

Okay

So

He's definitely more cuddly with his s.o than he his with friends

His cuddle style is very balanced

Probably likes to mirror his cuddle buddy

So like, facing each other

Probably holding hands

Also spooning and he'd be down for little spoon or big spoon depending on how he's feeling

Let me get a bit honest here

Cuddling for yoon is like holding the entire world

Sounds dramatic lol

It's a super intimate thing to share personal space like that

Even more than sex for him because the only objective is comfort and holding space for him and his person

Kinda. Intimacy in any form that it takes is really special and intense for him when it regards someone he truly cares for

This is about cuddles and not about how yoongi regards the act of bumping uglies

So

Platonic cuddles are a little less... wanted for him

Not that he hates it or anything. He just likes his space and would actively search for platonic cuddles often if every (if he knew a more physically affectionate person really needed to be held and comforted he wouldn't mind providing that but its just not something he typically looks for)

Because the thought of sharing such close personal space with someone is quite.. daunting? He feels a bit flustered

This is all heavily focused on yoongi preferring to have his cuddles with the people that he has the utmost respect for and trusts with his life

Definitely most comfortable with a romantic partner though

Definitely would love to have his hair played with and would reciprocate the favor

When things get rough in his head I think he would prefer to be held

Or like

I heard "held together"

Oof yoobi

Overall it's seems to be an act of trust and love and respect and anyone who gets a yoongi cuddle should feel honored

You guys

Just look at this cards

I CANT

Hoseok

Yo

Hobi Is definitely an enthusiastic cuddle buddy

Probs prefers to hold the other person

Definitely loves platonic cuddles all the way

Very much physical affection

Also very light and fun and giggly

Like, yoons is a more emotionally heavy feel

But hobis is so light and fun and recharging

It's not the destination

Like its not an event to have cuddles for him

It's almost as natural and fluid as just going in for a hug?

It's a continuation of a hug

Hobi snuggles more than cuddles?

Like any burst of affection he just goes in for a snuggle squeeze

I think as a human his body temperature is just always warm too

Versatile cuddles

Kinda octopus-esque

Can be kinda like a quick little battery charge for him

A good solid hobi cuddle would be like transporting to a new world where there are no worries

Very nice and secure

Would probably like sunshine cuddles or outdoor cuddles (without bugs)

I think sometimes he just likes to share his space with other people

Very warm friendly lovely I love it

Namjoon

Joon

Joo

Bb

Soft

Talk about tension release lol

Cuddles for him aren't something he seeks out often but when he does...

It's like taking the cap off of a soda

Definitely a daydream type

Idk why but I think he cuddles himself? Like when he's super stressed

He probably hugs himself

Or maybe he has a weighted blanket?

He definitely has a calm way to sooth himself

But with other people

I think he likes more mellow, soft type cuddles

Definitely a repetitive movement type of person

Like gently tapping/patting or making shapes

I can't tell of he would like that or if that's what he does

Probably drifts to sleep if cuddling for a longer time lol

It's very seren and lovely energy tbh

A sleepy morning type of cuddle would probably help him calmly sort his thoughts and plans for the day

Just time to exist

Platonic cuddles y e s

Like I said, it wouldn't be something that I would see him searching for often at all

But its very helpful for him when he does

This makes me think of one time I went to a park with my friend

we found a nice patch of soft grass and had a nice little cuddle just existing in each others presence and feeling a nice soft breeze bring in the sweet summer smell

It was just kinda like time stopped and I could daydream and look at my priorities without feeling overwhelmed by them??

Like having a person physically with you to anchor you to reality and provide comfort

Idk it's just such a nice lovely type of thing that is really special when those moments come around

Jimin

Definitely loves cuddles

We know this

But this is really sweet

It's very emotionally fulfilling and I think it's an easy way for him to show his love and appreciation for someone

This sounds dumb but I think he physically tries to morph his body to other people?

Like cling film?

It's really cute?

Tbh any kinds of cuddle is a good cuddle for chim

I think physical touch just in general is really important for him

cuddles make him feel loved bc sometimes he needs to be reminded

Definitely will cuddle or be cuddled

With the 8 of wands I think he just kinda goes with the flow really

The ace of cups makes me almost see it as an exchange of energy?

Like swapping good vibes or recharging your good vibes

It's really sweet

I bet he'd be the type to make it a special event on occasion

Like all the blankets and pillows and a movie or book or album or something

And just be comfy

Comfy is the best way to describe this

Comfy

10000% platonic cuddles

No one is spared

(Some are spared)

It's not like he's attached to them or needs them to breath

But physical touch is really important for him

And this is very optimal

I also think he'd be the type to go for drive by cuddles?

The 8 of wands can be a fast card so

Quick cuddles

Little snuggles

V good

10/10

wouldn't mind face to face cuddles at all

THIS ALL JUST FEELS SO WARM AND NICE

like a freshly washed blanket that's all warm and smells nice

Yes

Taehyung

Jesus

It was hard enough trying to interpret normal cards and you throw me this shit??

Here we go

It's definitely a mental resting point to have some good cuddles

Tae can be quite a physical person too so it doesn't suprise me to see

It almost feels solitary?

But not physically obviously

Kinda like joon he really benefits from having a reality anchor

But

He might be physically resting

And his mind is resting too

But??

It's like he fucking Astral projects or some shit

Hear me out

It's like having a safe and comfortable environment being with someone you trust

He just kinda

Lifts up??

Like this might seem like daydreams to him but it's like... the Astral?

Lol definitely unexpected

It's not like this everytime

He benefits from cuddles when he is having a hard time and needs comfort

Also just because it's something that he finds relaxing

But like, let me explain

Death is like letting go of attachments

Four of swords can be like meditation

Wheel of fortune can be like opportunity or destiny?

And like, we all know tae has his angel and stuff

I think maybe his angel or guides or whatever take any opportunity where he is in a good enough state to just... yank him up to them??

THIS SOUNDS DUMB

But think about it

If he's comfortable and in a mental state where this is possible, it would be the perfect opportunity??

Like?

I want to expand on this later maybe

It doesn't exclusively happen when he's cuddling its just a time where his mind is open to it?

Also yes platonic cuddles yes yes yes

Wtf tae?

Jungkook

These are all the cards that came out and all of them are relevant apparently

So

Firstly let's look at that lovers card and the magician

He's definitely down for a good cuddle and it's a sign of trust for him

Having a nice restful time where he can idly chat with someone probably helps him work through situations in his head

The magician can signify a powerful man...

I think he really enjoys being held and like, holding people tightly

Like it feels more secure like that

Definitely a release of stress and worry

Probably prefers cuddles more in the evening after he's worked hard and done stuff bc then he feels like he's earned the right to relax

Definitely down for platonic cuddles but with people he knows super well

This might sound weird but

I bet if the chance to cuddle arrives and it's not a suprise like "hey come here and cuddle" kinda thing he'd prepare

Like if there was a movie night and he knows it's gonna be nice and comfy he'd probably wear his favorite hoodie or shirt or whatever and pjs or sweatpants or whatever

Whip out the nice body butter

Some good smells

Fresh fabric softener smells

In a 100% not creepy and very platonic way

That sounds sarcastic but its not

Its called self care

Would also be the type to seek out cuddles if he has a bad day

Like the kind to flop down beside someone or put his head in their lap and just non verbally demand cuddles?

Like, have you ever been super frustrated and you just need someone to pet your hair? Or like hold you bc your working out your own shit internally?

Yes

It probably doesn't happen often and not when something really big is bothering him

Just smaller things

Would like repetitive motions/soothing motions

The six of swords make me think soft rocking would put him directly to sleep lol

Kinda like cars too

Very nice very nice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was intresting and I didn't really know what it would be like but I didn't think it would be this lol tae was unexpected

Who are you guys most like? I think I'm maybe part jungkook and part yoongi? I'm not the most touchy feely person with friends but I am a lot more with partners. Jungkookie style cuddles is me when I'm around people that I've know for forever and are really good friends. Pull out good blankets, clothes, candles ect. Anything for optimal comfort. Joon style cuddles definitely sound like the most relaxing thing in the planet and makes me a bit nostalgic

[crystalessenceswrites]

Hi Again! I was wondering if you wrote for the clones? (I'm thirsting for Wolffe!!) If not, that's ok! And if so, I thought maybe something fluffy and a bit hot with Wolffe? I'm a huge sucker for the trope- Reader tries to hide that she hasn't been feeling well and turns out she's pregnant? With twins! She's scared because even though they're committed, it wasn't planned? And then fluff and some love making?? <3333

Hi lovely, welcome back! I am open to writing for the clones, I just haven’t done so yet! I too thirst for Commander Wolffe so you’re in luck! This trope is def very cute, the end turned out more fluffy than spicy, I hope that's alright.

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader Rating: E (18+) Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected p in v sex, unplanned pregnancy, swearing (first time writing for Wolffe, may be slightly ooc)

[PART TWO]

There was never enough time. You really should not have been surprised by the revelation, you were at war, but it still sat heavy on your chest. Always needed elsewhere as soon as you completed a mission. Never time to rest, even in transit. Someone always needed your attention for reports, strategic planning or council meetings as the GAR cruiser hurtled through hyperspace. It never left you enough time for him. Thankfully, the stubborn nature of your clone commander allowed him to make time, even if just a spare moment, for the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” you throw your head back against the door as he reaches that spot deep inside you. Pushing you ever closer to the edge. “Wolffe, please-” you’re whining as he grinds up into you, throbbing inside you. He’s always had the uncanny ability to read your body, he knows better than you when you’re close to bliss and he enjoys drawing it out. To think Commander Wolffe was a fucking tease.

“Please what, cyare?” His smug grin slides across your chest following the trail of marks he’s littered across your skin where no one will see. “What does ner jetii need?”

“Please, ‘m so close,” you tighten your legs around his waist, trying to draw him in closer, anything to reach your release, “please, Wolffe!”

He groans into your neck as you tug at the curls fallen loose at the nape of his neck, “well when you ask so nicely, cyare.”

His sudden thrust up pushes the air from your lungs. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he pounds into you, all teasing forgotten. He’s relentless as you tighten around him, the coil in your belly threatening to snap.

“That’s it,” he grunts, “come on my cock ner jetii.”

His words and his gloved thumb brushing over your bundle of nerves has you falling apart around him. White hot pleasure rolls over you, leaving you a limp, moaning mess in Wolffe’s arms.

“That’s it, mesh’la. Squeezing me so kriffing tight,” he groans, hips stuttering, his own release fast approaching. “Fuck.” Wolffe manages a few more thrusts before he buries himself in you, spilling himself inside you. Whispered praises fall from his lips as he comes down from his own high. His lips ghost over yours in a chaste kiss as he withdraws, tucking himself away before he lets you down.

Your legs cry out in relief when they meet solid ground, not longer clinging to Wolffe for support.

“Good, cyare?” his hand sweeps over your brow, so tender for a man with such a fierce reputation, even amongst his brothers.

“Mhmm,” leaning into his touch, he chuckles at your blissed out expression.

“Someone’s bound to come looking for you soon, General. Let’s get you cleaned up.” You don’t protest as he helps you redress, though you do moan about how unfair it was he just had to remove his codpiece and you had to strip completely out of your robes for these little storage closet rendezvous’.

“I don’t think jedi robes were designed to allow for easy access, cyare.”

You pout, “you’re probably right.” There was that whole bit about no attachments you were blatantly ignoring after all.

Before the commander can come back with another sharp retort your commlink blinks to life. “Yes?”

“General, General Plo is looking for you on the bridge.”

You sigh, “thank you, Sinker. I’ll be right there.”

Never enough time.

.

The next couple of months continue much the same. You and Wolffe sneaking away between missions when you can, trying to find solace in each other despite all the horrors you both see on the battlefield. In a war that seems to stretch on forever he is your rock. As he watches his brothers fall, one after the other, you are his comfort. It breaks your heart to be apart from him but there is little you can do to control it. When the council requests you to join Obi-wan and Anakin for a series of missions you cannot object. Instead, you drag your tired self out to the far reaches of the outer rim to help them as best you can.

“You look exhausted, my dear.” Such tact this one possessed.

You roll your eyes, “you don’t look much better, Kenobi.” Though you doubt he has been waking in the middle of the night to empty the contents of his stomach like you have for the past week.

“This war does seem to be pushing us all to our limits.”

“I’ll race you!” Ahsoka sprints by, apparently headed for some target or another with her master hot on her heels.

“Snips!”

Cody chuckles under his bucket, shaking his head as the two disappear into the distance.

Obi-Wan scrubs a hand over his face, “it’s pushed most of us to our limits.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have the energy of a padawan again,” you groan.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Obi-wan nods, “we should all try to get some rest while we can. We need to break camp near dawn.”

You agree and bid your fellow jedi an early goodnight. With the headache you could feel coming on, sleep sounded like a good idea. As you go to stand the world spins around you, any sense of balance you had gone. You reach for the crate you had been sitting on to try and stay upright but you miss by a mile. Knees giving out you collapse to the floor, the world around you still spinning. You can barely hear Cody shouting over the ringing in your ears.

“Call for a medic! The General’s collapsed!”

.

By the time you regain consciousness you’re no longer planet side. Obi-wan had been quick to have you medevacked to the closest med-station for testing. The unholy white lights of the station burn your eyes when you finally come to. Your sudden groaning draws Kix back to your bedside.

“General. Good to see you’re back with us.”

“Kix?” You try to focus on the 501st medic instead of the bright lights, “what happened?”

“You collapsed back at the forward camp. We weren’t able to determine what was wrong with the limited medical supplies we had on hand, so General Kenobi called an air lift for you.”

Another groan bubbles up, Obi-wan had been forced to waster precious resources on you. “Were you able to find out what’s wrong?”

The clone’s face falls, “yes.”

You’ve never heard the medic sound so meek before. “Kix?”

“I’m not sure what’s the best way to explain this, General… but you’re pregnant.”

Oh.

Oh.

“H-how far along?”

“Looks like just over two months,” Kix shifts from foot to foot, pointedly not looking you in the eye. You can’t blame him for being uncomfortable, this isn’t quite the medicine he’d been expecting to practice. He was a combat medic not an obgyn. “We were able to get an ultrasound, would you like to see?”

Nodding, you sit up, your head now spinning for completely different reasons. Kix brings you a datapad displaying the grainy black and white image.

“Kix… am I seeing this right?”

“Yes, general.”

“There’s two…”

“Yes general. You’re having twins.”

Oh fuck.

.

Kix is a godsend, having worked with Anakin and Rex long enough to know reporting everything may not always be a good idea. The official report on your sudden collapse reads that you suffered from a foreign infection your body had not been prepared to fight, coupled with the battle fatigue, your body had shut down in order to force you to rest. Obi-wan and the council believe it, ordering you back to Coruscant to recover and rest. You knew you would have to tell them; it would not be long until you were showing, but you would much rather deal with the council in person than from your medbay bed.

Before your escort arrives, Kix slips you a disk with a copy of the ultrasound pictures, “in case there’s someone you want to show them to.”

“Thank you, Kix,” he blushes when you give him a quick peck on the cheek, “you’ve done more for me than you’ll ever know.”

You do your best to rest on your trip back to Coruscant but its incredibly difficult when your mind is going a parsec a minute. Besides the council there’s one other person you have to break the news to. While you two had talked about what life would be like for the two of you after the war, this was not something you had discussed. You were not sure if Wolffe wanted kids ever, let alone now. Having twins while the whole galaxy was at war was not ideal. Not when the two of you were expected to put your lives on the line for the Republic.

Panic washes over you when you arrive at the capital to find the wolfpack waiting for you on the tarmac. They’d just arrived back for some long overdue shore leave and Plo had informed them of your sudden illness. Normally you would be touched by how much they cared for you, but now all you can think about is how you are not ready to face Wolffe. Not yet.

You can feel his gaze heavy on your back as you field Sinker and Boost’s barrage of questions.

“I’ll be alright, I just need to take my medicine and get some rest. It shouldn’t be long before I’m right as rain again.” You hate lying to them, but you did not want them worrying unnecessarily either.

It seems to appease them; the pack wishes you well and invites you out to 79’s with them as soon as you’re recovered. Wolffe hangs back, watching his brothers go.

“I’ll walk you back, general.”

“No.” It comes out much harsher than you’d like. The surprise that washes over his face feels like a stab to your gut. “There’s no need, Commander. I’ll be alright.”

His voice drops, brow furrowed together, “cyare?”

“Not now, Wolffe,” you frown, “I just need to go lay down. We’ll talk later.”

But you don’t. You cannot find it in yourself to answer any of his calls or messages over the next few days. Instead, you wrap yourself up in as many blankets as possible and hole up in your quarters while you try to figure out what to do. You watch Coruscant go by from your window. It’s only when Sinker and Boost call that you’re freed from running around in circle inside your head.

“Boost? Sinker? What’s going on?”

“Oh thank goodness you’re alive, General!”

“Boost what are you going on about?”

“The Commanders been going crazy! He hasn’t heard from you in over a week and we don’t think he knows how to handle it!”

Although you and Wolffe did your best to keep your relationship hidden, in such tight quarters it was hard to keep it from Wolffe’s brothers. You’d never outright admitted it to them, but you figured they understood what was going on. You were glad for it now.

“I’ve seen him pace before, but never like this,” Sinker adds.

Oh Maker. “Where is he?”

“The barracks, General.”

“I… I’ll speak with him, alright? Hopefully that will calm him down.”

“Thank you, General! We were running out of ways to distract him!” That was the kind way of saying ways to annoy him to keep Wolffe’s mind off you.

“Thank you, Boost, Sinker.”

“Good luck, General!”

You were going to need it. This was not a conversation to have over the com so you make your way down to the barracks, doing your best to avoid attention when you can. It was not like you weren’t allowed there, but the last thing you needed was more questions.

Boost and Sinker were not lying about the pacing. Punching in the access code to his quarters reveals a tightly wound Wolffe, pacing back and forth across the length if the tight space. His armor has been haphazardly discarded around the room. You’re surprised he hasn’t worn a path into the floor yet.

“General?” Surprise and then relief fall over his face when he catches you standing in the doorway.

“Wolffe, I-”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

You’re thrown off by the sudden cold tone in his voice. “I-I came to explain, Wolffe… to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“I’ve been avoiding you Wolffe,” your voice cracks despite your best efforts to remain calm, “and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I just needed to find a way to tell you and I couldn’t.”

His frown deepens, “tell me what?”

“That I’m pregnant.”

“What?” He looks at you live you’ve grown another head.

“I’m pregnant, Wolffe.”

It takes him a moment to wrap his mind around your words, but you can see the instant he does, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ as his jaw falls slack.

“You’re pregnant? With my… with my baby?”

“Babies,” you correct.

His brain seems to sputter out again, “babies?”

You nod, “twins.”

Before you can blink, he’s got you wrapped up in his arms, spinning you around the room. “Twins. You’re having twins.”

It takes everything you have not to start bawling. Kriffing hormones. You’ve never seen Wolffe this happy. This was beyond any reaction you could have imagined. The awe on his face when he sets you down makes your heart melt.

“This is why you were sent back? Your sudden illness?”

“Well yes… but Kix’s report was that I had an infection. I wanted to talk to your first before anyone else. I just didn’t know how.”

His warm hand oh-so-gently cups the side of your face. You lean into the touch. After even just a few weeks apart you’re starving for him.

“Why were you worried, cyare?”

“We’d never talked about kids. And we’re in the middle of a war. Not to mention we’re not even supposed to be together on the first place… I didn’t know how you’d react…”

His face softens, his amber eye drifting down to your nonexistent bump. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised. It may not be how either of us hoped, but it is a pleasant surprise.”

“Really?”

“Really, cyare.” You cannot help but smile as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips slanting against your own as he holds you close. “I know there may be somethings we need to work out, but we’ll take it one step at a time,” he murmurs against your lips, hands tracing patterns across your back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

[manicgoblin]

picked up some ❄️ last night and hung with squad. watched scary movies and cackled together all night. ended up staying over with Elliott and watching lilo and stitch together in bed. we had v vulnerable convo after sex about new fantasies and things to explore in the bedroom together, how life is going for us in general, how we've both been feeling low and mentally off our game lately, how we crave community and new and exciting adventures in our daily lives. it was very tender and endearing. im glad we can talk the way we do. we told each other new childhood stories. I opened up about my sadness for the holidays and my birthday tmrw and he rubbed my back while I talked. he gave me the tightest hug after and told me we'll plan a friends day for Christmas. Said that I should stay the night on the 24th and spend time with everyone who's still home. hes good to me, but he's not always good to himself, and that hurts us both sometimes. Its the same with me. we're both a bit (a big bit) of a work in progress, but still our friendship continues to grow. our connection is deeply important to us both, especially at this time of our lives. I'm very grateful for him. he told me that his life here in Maine would look very different if I wasn't here that I really help him feel more at home and cared for at a time in his life where he's struggling to feel connected to the people who love him. he thanked me and reiterated that he's got my back too. we are planning to rent out a pottery studio together so he can teach me how to work with clay, and he can get back into his artistic grind, and we also are planning some volunteer days at a soup kitchen downtown. we both have been struggling w execution lately, so I said why not try it together? I told him my biggest hurdle tends to be going it alone, not that I can't, just that it feels scary and also sad to not have anyone around to share new things with. he understood. he was excited and appreciative for the suggestion. he just dropped me off at home, but he'll pick me up in the am to make breakfast and start the day with squad. we're gonna venture to a new lighthouse as a lil unit, which makes my heart v full. I love lighthouses. I've seen all the landlocked ones in this area already, so this will be another added to the list. then we're squading back up at the boys house, drinking/partying, playing the new we are not really strangers deck I bought, probably some other card games, and dancing all night. ru's meeting us at squad house after work, and I'm bringing my polaroids, so I can add new ones to my fridge. I think this time I'll let some other people take some pictures, so I can be in them too haha. I want to remember this birthday. I always let them go by so fast. I don't want to think about them. I tell myself I hate celebrating, but fuck I'm 25 now. I want this one to feel good and warm, and I want tangible proof of the love I witness with the people in my life this time around. I'm v grateful to be spending it with all of them. I do wish deeply that cherise and sunmi could be here, but I'll see them again soon. Makes my heart ache to not be near them. It would be so nice if Sam could come down from Acadia too, but I'm sure I'll see them all again soon. For now, I'll make the best of what I've got, and cherish the day with my friends that can be here. The emotional whiplash will be heavy tmrw, I know this. I warned squad I'll probably be emotional and moody throughout the day, but I'm very appreciative of them being there with me anyways, just witnessing and experiencing it with me. allowing me to grieve and celebrate in the ways that come up. Here's to making it another year I didn't think possible. To being as sad and grateful as I've ever been. To having all the freedom I've ever dreamed of in the palm of my hands, and simultaneously the most roadblocks right in front of me. To forging on anyway. To love, to love, to love.

[heart-forge]

I wanted to clarify from a...couple weeks ago? Whatever when I talk about human moderation being the only solution for the current moderation crisis where legitimate creators are being deplatformed for talking about sex (or gasp, gay sex) while batshit far right loons are allowed to just say and do whatever and the only oversight they have is people reporting them after exposure to trauma...I also think it's not a legitimate way forward for a lot of sites. I'm gunna scoot this under a cut because it got long.

First of all, as I've mentioned I think contemporary websites just have too much content to expect a reasonably sized team to backread. They'd never get caught up: you could move forward like this, but never back. That, however, feeds into a more urgent general problem: there's no way forward under tech monopolies.

The concern of big business is always going to be puritannical: as a surprise to no one, there isn't a mainstream corporation with a sophisticated taste for trans body horror metaphors in visual medium, or gay coming out stories that involve anything beyond after school special content for teenagers (so, sexual desire beyond a very basic curiosity and even then, maybe not!). The threshold of acceptability for a corporation is always going to equate queerness with the same open hatefulness that we try to make spaces to avoid, and as a result their moderation is always going to skew against us.

And I don't know what the fix is for that! But it felt pertinent to mention that I didn't put forth human moderation as the easy solution no one was looking at, especially in the current climate of Apple v Epic bringing it all frothing to the forefront of particularly gaming discourse. I talk about this sometimes on my main, but I mostly mean that millenials dropped the fucking ball on the internet (developing it without the community moderation that it began with, specifically developing it outside the bounds of reasonable moderation, failing to protect other generations with less internet savvy from extremist communities online preying on them) and everyone is paying for it now.

When people look back on millenials, it'll be our legacy that we took the reigns on the internet and we destroyed all safety nets for the sake of advertising and the fantasy of Internet as a safe space from real life (ie, where you can meticulously curate your personality differently than you're able to in real life). Not all of us, of course, no more than every boomer benefits from the generational wealth that's been eroding the economy, but that's our contribution to society as it is. Everyone scoffs at Gen Z being too open about their names, locations, and Whole Deals on the Internet making them vulnerable to predators: but it's us who failed to teach them.

[letsbefeminist]

Hi, I hope I'm not bothering you but I was wondering if you had any advice for like getting your self-esteem/positive self-image back after being cheated on? My s.o. and I decided to still stay together but I'm just having trouble in the aftermath with feeling like myself, or feeling good about myself, or feeling like I'm still attractive to my partner. Also I love your blog and you're always so amazing and sweet in your replies so I hope you don't mind, thank you!

You are definitely not a bother & I’m incredibly sorry you’re even dealing with this right now. It’s a devastating thing to go through & it really can change who you are & how you see/think about yourself.

((This is gonna be looooong as hell tbh & also, thank you for being so sweet! It really made my night & I don’t mind at all you coming to me to talk! 💜💗))

Okaaay, I found out all the way back in November that my partner cheated on me. Like you, i decided to stay with him & work through things but I gotta say, this has been a challenge like no other.

Sooo, I know EXACTLY what you mean about not feeling good about yourself & not feeling attractive to the person you love so dearly. It’s incredibly difficult to feel like yourself when you’ve been betrayed by someone so close to you. By someone who’s supposed to have your back. But you’re still in there my love. It’s just a new scar, that’s all.

Like, it’s taken me months to even attempt this, but day by day lately, I’ve been stacking bricks, trying to build a wall between me & all that bullshit & hurt. Like I literally envision a wall. So yes, it is hard but it’s also doable. Even if it’s slow to happen.

You gotta remember/find out who you are outside of your relationship & outside of being cheated on. Yes, it changes you, it makes you angry & sad & sometimes it’s just agonizing to live with it but it’s not who we are at all. Being cheated on isn’t what defines us!

We are so much more than this shitty thing that happened to us. Sooo much more.

My angel, remember that you weren’t cheated on because you’re unattractive, unworthy, unlovable, or whatever. You’re gonna have to tell yourself this until you listen. Until you actually start believing it. This is legit one of the bricks for my wall & it’s going to be one of the most important ones tbh.

& yeah, this part is DEFINITELY easier said than done, but I’m closer to listening to that today than I was just last month. You’ll get there too. Biggest thing is, don’t rush. Healing takes time. Working on trusting again takes time. Working on feeling like yourself takes time. That’s okay. Believe me.

Next step to building that confidence back up is don’t fucking hate on yourself!!! My goodness, I struggle with this so every time I say that I’m just ugly or that he doesn’t love me I’m knocking a brick off my wall & I got to start over again. That’s unfair to ourselves. We can’t do that.

So every time you start hating on yourself you HAVE to make the conscious effort to quit that shit. Say something nice about yourself. I don’t care if it’s something like your earlobe is cute. Anything positive, no matter how small, is AUTOMATICALLY better than whatever hateful thing you’re saying at the moment. Work on that. Work on being nice to yourself because you’re already going through so much & without a doubt, you did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to deserve being cheated on. You wouldn’t say mean things to someone who is already hurting, so why do it to yourself?

Ask for help is the next thing on my list. Find people who boost your confidence & who you can vent to. A family member, your BFF, anyone. Ask them to be your hype man. To remind you how great you are. How fucking gorgeous & sweet you are, how damn funny & smart you are. This is especially important when you start falling into a self-hate spiral. It’s sooo easy to forget how others see us when someone so close changed the way you view yourself, but that positive reinforcement does do a lot. ((& yeah, you’re gonna be like bullshit a lot of the times, but it does help to hear it. Even if you only believe them for a minute, that’s one less minute of feeling horrible)).

You should also try to do all those things that make you feel good about yourself. The things that made you feel lovable & attractive. Whether that’s dressing up & going on a date or something more intimate & personal. Allow yourself to feel sexy in your own eyes & in the eyes of your partner.

Do the things that always seem to make your partner go wild for you (I know how cheesy this sounds😎). If they’re all like “daaaaaaamnnn,” that’s gonna feel pretty fucking good. Bask in those moments because you need that good feeling. It helps so much to feel like you’re fine as hell to your partner & if you find yourself no believing them, revert back to the above.

Also, you’re gonna have to tell your partner what you need from them. Specifically & generically. Like, that was the biggest thing for me & our relationship. I needed him to be an open book so he’s steady being open about who he’s talking to on his phone, what he’s doing on social media & so on & so forth. Like it’s gotten to the point where Im not always having to ask, he’ll just tell me. That helps build the trust back up.

I also asked him to do things that make me feel important & special again. Things that are outside of sex (this is so damn important). Like when he buys me flowers randomly or calls me beautiful when I least expect it, that feel so good. That helps me feel like I’m thought about, cared about, loved & special to him. It sounds basic but that’s what normal partners do & the goal is to feel normal within the relationship again.

You clearly love this person & want this relationship to workout so you’re also gonna need to remind yourself about how they used to make you feel. Like, at some point they made you feel like you were on top of the world. Hold on to those feelings & memories. REMIND YOURSELF THAT THE PERSON WHO MADE YOU FEEL SO GREAT IS STILL IN THERE!!! THAT THEY LOVE YOU FOR YOU!! THAT YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED!!!!

Yes, a lot has changed & you’re gonna have to accept that things can’t go exactly back to the way they used to be. So you gotta work on a better tomorrow. A tomorrow where you can trust this person again. One where you feel normal & good & attractive again. Hold onto the good memories & make even better ones. This all helps you move forward, & that’s the whole point. I know you miss those good ol’ days but those aren’t the only ones that are going to matter & getting caught up on how things used to be is just gonna depress the hell outta you. Like I’ve made myself sick doing this & I’m trying like hell to stop doing it. It’s okay to miss how things were, but if you really want to move on, you got to accept that things have changed & that it can be a good thing.

Another great thing you can do for yourself is live up the moments you feel good. Like when you had a good day, hold onto that. Be excited about that. Be proud of e v e r y single moment that you didn’t think about yourself negatively or about being cheated on, because like I said, it isn’t what defines you.

There’s a lot you are going to have to work on personally. There’s also a lot you’ll have to work on together. You’re going to have to be open when you can & sometimes you’re just gonna have to wipe the tears & keep on keepin’ on. That shit is hard but it’s for you & your relationship. It can be worth it!

Don’t be so quick to doubt yourself & the impact you have on your partner. There is soooo many qualities of yours that would make anyone lucky to have you in their life & lemme tell you, they know this.

Soo if you gotta walk around like the cockiest mofo around in order to believe it, so be it. If that’s what helps get your confidence back up, shooooo then fake it till you make it boo.

It’s gonna take so much strength & courage from you to feel better & to feel like yourself again but it will happen. It’s gonna be agonizing at times & it’ll probably be slow too but progress is progress, no matter how much bullshit you go through to get there.

But, all in all my dear, you are smart, beautiful, kind, sweet, strong as fuck, & worth loving & if you need me to remind you of that, I will. Every day I will.

I want you to be happy & it’s okay to struggle with how you feel. Just know that that’s not the end of the road. This isn’t the only chapter that’s written in your book. You have to remember all the great things about you & that happens one day at time. So be patient. Be gentle with yourself & allow yourself time to heal.

You’ll feel like yourself again one day & you’ll feel attractive & good about yourself one day too. Just know you have my support & I know exactly how you feel so if you ever need to talk shugg, I am here for you.

So let me end all this with hopefully a smile because I’m gonna send you all the great, incredible love vibes your way sugaaaaah 🌈🔮💕💚💘

[its-a-queer-thing]

Hello lovely! I wondered what your opinion on Svetlana is. Obviously besides what happened in 3x06 (which I'm not sure how I feel in terms of how much blame can be put on Svetlana given the circumstances) I feel like she did become a likeable character in s6 and most of s7, especially with the reveal of her being extremely intelligent with maths and loving/accepting in her relationship with Kev and V. Whether good or bad she does become an unlikely developed character given her background

Hello to you, love! :D

I have a very conflicted opinion on Svet. I don’t blame her for raping Mickey. She was just a tool in that situation, not even really understanding what was going on except for what she overheard. So while I’m sure she put two and two together, the fact is she couldn’t have refused even if she cared enough to want to; so I don’t blame her for 3x666. I don’t even blame her for willingly going along with the wedding. Looking at her face as she walked down the aisle, it really looked like she thought she was getting her fairy tale ending complete with husband and child–some sense of normalcy in a world where NOTHING is average about her life, and she probably always wanted some sense of stability.

What I DO blame her for is not being a little more understanding of Mickey’s situation. What she easily could have done was talk to Ian that next morning after Mickey brought him home to sober up. She saw the look Mickey was giving him while Ian was passed out, she knew that they each felt something for the other, and she felt threatened because she for some reason thought Ian would be a distraction. I personally argue that Ian would have always been a positive influence in Mickey’s relationship with the baby, but of course how could Svet have known that? What bothers me is for someone who is supposedly so smart and so good at reading people (as they made her in season 6 and 7) she was shit at it in season 4. Instead of threatening Ian she could have been like, hey, Mickey is not cooperating with this baby thing, bring him on board and we’ll make this work. She didn’t need to threaten him with a hammer. If she had tried to talk to Ian for ten minutes I’m almost certain Ian would have gone along with trying to bring Mickey on board. 

Instead, she got pissed when Mickey rejected the product of his rape and then threatened his safety. Why she is surprised he rejected the baby is truly beyond me and goes back to my question of her supposed ability to read people… it was conveniently created for seasons 5, 6, and 7, but for some reason she couldn’t read the situation for what it was while she was pregnant? Then on top of that, when she wasn’t getting her way she immediately resorted to blackmailing and threatening, as though Mickey would honestly ever respond to that. She knew what Terry would do if she exposed that Mickey was still gay and still fucking Ian, and she used that to get a shallow version of what she wanted. I say shallow because Svet wanted full cooperation, even if it wasn’t conventional, and she had 9 months to get it. Mickey never gave the indication (that I can see) that he gave a shit about her or the baby even before Ian showed up, so why it was suddenly apparent to her that he didn’t care when Ian showed up, I don’t know. She had nine months to be like “hey, I know you don’t care about me or the baby, I know this isn’t what you want, but whether you like it or not we are in this shit show together and it’d be great if you worked with me here. It’s not my fault either.” And then after she realized he and Ian were playing house, she could have been like “look, bring him along! We don’t have to tell your father, but I NEED help because this is no more my fault than it is yours.” And I almost guarantee Ian would have been right there, and I argue that because he immediately cared for that child starting with when he dropped off Liam’s old clothes and asking Mandy if he’d be okay.

 I just can’t forgive her for blackmailing Mickey and threatening his safety. I can’t. Yes, I understand her reasons for it and I understand her background, but she knew that Mickey would probably get killed the next time he was outed and was using his fear to get what she wanted, and I can’t imagine that a woman as intelligent and resourceful as Svetlana couldn’t have figured out a better angle to play this at to get Mickey even somewhat on board.

Season 5, Svet was great (cooperating with Ian and Mickey, finding their pattern, being open with them being together so long as Yev was taken care of) UNTIL she sexually assaulted Kev and V. They ended up being okay with it, but that doesn’t change the fact that the first time she sexually manipulated/assaulted them, they both said “no” but she kept doing it. Sorry not sorry, I don’t find that endearing or okay in any way, even if they did end up turning into a “thruple.” 

Then for seasons 6 and 7 she is SUDDENLY a whiz with numbers and knows how to do ALL of these things and while it’s cool to show that sex workers aren’t dumb or only good for sex, it was also just so sudden that it seemed they were trying to MAKE her perfect. That of course is not Svetlana’s character’s fault, but the writers so I’m really just mentioning this to respond to what you mentioned more than anything lol.

Everything with the Thruple was okay UNTIL it was revealed how much she has lied and the fact that we REALLY have no idea when she’s telling the truth. THEN she steals the bar. And it’s not even JUST that she stole the bar, but that she did it under the guise of adoption papers. 

That’s fucking cold. 

Kev and V were so excited to adopt Yev and become an even more official family unit, and so then for that to turn out to be her stealing away their source of income?? Cold. She could have held a family meeting and been like “Kev, I know you love this bar but the way it’s running right now, it’s going to fail. Here are some ideas for how to improve it, let’s put it to a vote.” Let’s be real, V would have absolutely backed her up as an intelligent and (generally) reasonable woman, and while Kev probably would have had a bit of a problem with it, it would have been an honest way to go about it and she wouldn’t have betrayed these people she claims to love.

I guess my number one problem with Svet is that she’s a horrible person for understandable reasons, but the understandable reasons for some reason don’t excuse her in my mind… I STILL feel like she should know better for some of these complaints I have, because usually she shows how she could have/should have gone about the situation the first time, like three or four episodes later. But then also the writers are inconsistent with her character to make her look better than she is or worse than she is depending on what their mood is for that episode. 

Like I said, Svet is complicated. Sometimes I love her, other times I love to hate her.

Thanks for the ask, that was a lot longer than I anticipated, but you gave me a lot to think about!