#the patterns were there in my thought processes

[ri-notafan]

TLDR; Small things can be symptoms of a bigger problem, but hope isn’t lost because education is there for everyone.

“I can’t be homophobic: I have a gay [insert relative here].”

Don’t use people like that.

We know this kind of fallacy is wrong and can be seen no matter what the topic is.

Knowing someone is gay doesn’t inherently change your beliefs or actions.

Even if you are the gay person, internalised homophobia is still a thing.

There are many gay people that have had homophobic parents what have kicked them out, disowned them, and more when they were kids; parents are supposedly folks who would love you unconditionally but that’s not true. Would you say they aren’t homophobic? They’re related to a gay person same as you though.

(There’s probably more for this part, feel free to add)

“🫢 I’ve said this before! Does that make me a bad person?”

No, not necessarily? At least not on its own in my opinion.

But even if it did, you can be educated!

Self reflection and confrontation of your own personal biases is a good starting point to unlearn some of that, and honestly educating yourself about other people and applying that information to your actions moving forward is another. There are great resources out there full of strategies and research over these topics.

It’s an ongoing, continual practice that will only be good for you and the people around you in the long run.

“😬 I’ve come to realise I’ve been an a**hole. What do I do??”

Nothing wrong with a sincere apology and a plan to be better in the future (that you actually stick to).

Sometimes it’s not feasible to apologise for a number of factors (like being a general buttwipe rather than one with a specific target) and sometimes people won’t accept your apology. People don’t have to accept your apology, but that doesn’t mean it’s worthless to do so if you’re actually going to work on yourself.

Some people might not believe that you will change and that’s fine. That bridge might be burned beyond repair. It might also not be, but it’s certainly not traversable for you now. Words won’t fix it. Anyway, the point isn’t to get people to like you, the point is self improvement after introspection.

Aside from that? It goes back to the second part in unlearning behaviours and thought processes. Keep on listening, learning, and adapting yourself in this ever-diversifying world.

[isbergillustration]

[pepperuni]

Wanted to post a drawing I did of Cole Wallows here :) could definitely do the upward perspective better but I like it!

[ant-diary]

I think I have maybe decided to tell someone I no longer want to be friends with them, but I'm wondering if I should give it a few more days before I commit to it

[suffercerebral]

i wonder if my ex best friend remembers my birthday every year the way i remember hers

[thethingything]

apparently sometimes I will just fall asleep for 2 hours, have a dream that consists entirely of having a lovely conversation with someone I really want to talk to more, then wake up, realise the conversation never happened, also remember how much I struggle with starting conversations sometimes, then just end up getting frustrated and upset about it

[starberrywander]

The people who taught me about feminism: Your gender does not determine your behavior. Women can be good or they can be bad. Men can be good or they can be bad. No one is inherently a certain way because of their gender. If men agree with our feminist views and want to join us in our fight against the patriarchy we should let them. The patriarchy hurts all of us and getting rid of it helps both women and men. We should use our feminism to help everyone, not just women. Men should be encouraged to join us in this fight and use their male privilege to challenge the patriarchy by turning its own biases against it. We need more feminist men because feminism is to help everyone live a life free from the pressures of gender roles. 

The Radical Feminists™ that I have met on Tumblr: How DARE you. You sexist, dick-sucking, woman hater! How DARE you treat men like human beings who can earn respect and not like walking Evil Penises! How DARE you even suggest that feminism can help men or that the patriarchy can be detrimental to them in some way! No I will not hear you out, you are promoting SEXISM and I won’t stand for it!! Men cannot ever be good no matter what, they are always misogynistic and if you disagree you are blind and complicit in your own oppression!! How can you not see that they want to sabotage us!! 

Me: Uhm??? Are you certain you know what sexism means?? Are you certain that you aren’t the sexist here?? Y’know, with all the judging and stereotyping people based on their sex?? Like, the definition of sexism?? Are you ok????

RF™: Whatever. Dick-sucker. I guess you just love men and misogyny, dumbass. Don’t call yourself a feminist if you are just gonna support men.

Me: *concerned* What corner of hell on internet have I walked into.....

[tunneldweller]

[image description: "you just die #fear is the mind killer, boomers have... a lot of fear #a lot of fear and hurt that they don't examine or know how to examine and it bleeds through #something something 'it all traces back to trauma' #it... we talk about this a lot" end ID]

I mean, we knew, but it's nice to hear so succinctly

[sassmill]

I feel so fucking seen

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[lucabyte]

screenshotting my own tags since i probably shouldn't have left them trapped in there tbf but. making an addendum since im remembering that the *first half* of the sisyphus myth is like... less well known. And also there's a couple variations on it as always with greek myth so i feel like i should point out a bonus vis a vis "he's just like me fr"

[^ wikipedia screenshot]

Something about not only cheating death but in doing so, making everyone else unable to die for the duration. Sounds familiar.

Veering even further into unbased-speculation here but mmm. viewing the universe as a prescriptive and punishing of free will (at least in Sif's eyes). I wonder if they would view this as brought unto themselves. A form of nominative determinism-- Careful what you wish for.

Hmmm just gonna spit this headcanon out in text post form since A. I don't think I could exposit it well enough in image form and B. It's not actually textually/thematically substantiated and I don't like actually staking my stuff on just vibes alone*

But anyway. I'd say it's pretty evident that all the islanders forgot their names, right? King obviously. Because why the hell else would he do that, but also Siffrin No Middle Names No Last Name.

They're 'pretty sure' they've 'always' been 'Just Siffrin' 'as long as they can remember'. It's a pretty cruel twist of the knife to say that they don't even get to keep their birth name as a memento, which is why I'm saying as such.

My utterly unsubstantiated claim is I think it'd be cute to say that Sisyphus *is* the name Siffrin initially picked, assuming the myth of King Sisyphus is recontextualised as idk, just a play or something in the setting. But I like the idea of Siffrin going 'oh shit 🫵 he's just like me fr' at a tortured fictional character long before the irony kicks in.

As for how Sisyphus -> Siffrin. I think that chronic mumbler and emotional doormat Sif just did not correct people who misheard the name during their time travelling, and went through enough places with incompatible phonologies (pronounceable sounds in the language) without ever really writing it down that it just got kinda. Changed until it was unrecognisable, and Siffrin just went with it until the earlier pronunciations slipped out of their swiss-cheese brain. And they just kinda don't remember any of that.

Also, something something the horrid realisation that Siffrin also named themselves after a King. Just not as blatantly.

*(though I think there's something here about Siffrin, a guy from a belief system that seems to thoroughly disincentivise autonomy and self-motivated choice continuously having their hand forced to make changes/choices they don't want but have no choice but to... It's not solid enough to really back this up tbh, but it informs it.)

Anyway.

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

 Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[kafus]

how i caught entei in leafgreen in the most ridiculous way possible

SO last week i started a pokemon leafgreen file on my childhood cart i've had since my 5th birthday, and one my goals ended up being getting every owned dex entry possible in JUST the one copy of leafgreen without connecting to any other game… and i did. except i forgot one. ENTEI!!

like probably a lot of you reading this i COMPLETELY forgot that one of the johto roaming beasts is in every copy of FRLG. i never even caught any of them as a kid. which roamer you get is based on your starter (squirtle = raikou, bulbasaur = entei, charmander = suicune) and i happened to pick bulbasaur so my roamer was entei. it does actually ROAM in kanto, aka whenever you change locations, the pokemon moves to a new route. obviously this is a pain in the ass, but it gets even more painful because roamers can flee from the battle and they will the instant you encounter them. you get the chance to throw one ball or use one move and that's it… so like in most pokemon games, you would use a trapping move like mean look to keep the roamer in the battle and turn it into a normal legendary encounter, right? HAHA WRONG

raikou and entei are affected by the ROAMER ROAR BUG in FRLG, which means if they use roar to escape the battle (yes, even in mean look, it doesn't stop roar from working) they just disappear from the game. permanently. forever. you can never capture it. suicune is not affected by this because it doesn't have roar, but my roamer was entei, so uh. the odds were stacked against me. did i want to repetitively encounter the roamer over and over, never trapping it, just throwing one ball each time? or did i want to set up a mean look pokemon only to have to soft reset every time entei used roar? neither option sounded fun and i was going to just give up and master ball it despite REALLY wanting it in a luxury ball like all the other kanto legendaries i had already caught… UNTIL!

i am a moderator of the ribbon master discord (a different pokemon challenge) and i was just sorta liveposting my thought process about this annoying roamer when gen 3 rng manipulation extraordinaire ddeeffgg crashes into the chat and suggests this fucking bonkers idea. and his bonkers idea is galaxy brain LET ME EXPLAIN

ariados is available in leafgreen's post game by catching spinarak in pattern bush, and of course electrode is a fairly common kanto pokemon. ariados gets access to spider web, which is basically just mean look with a different name (and i completely forgot it existed), it traps the opponent in the battle. but IMPORTANTLY, it ALSO gets access to BATON PASS… which, in gen 3, passes the trapping effect! usually if you were to use spider web and swap out ariados, the opponent would no longer be trapped, but baton pass solves that! and then electrode has the ability soundproof which prevents roar from working, and it even gets thunder wave (paralysis) and sonicboom (consistent 20 damage with no chance of accidental crits) to assist in easier capture of entei! nice!! awesome!! but getting this setup in order is the most ridiculous shit i've ever done in leafgreen

PROBLEM #1: ariados gets baton pass through egg move. in gen 3, egg moves are only passed down by the father and not the mother, so i had to grab a male ledyba, grind it to a high enough level to learn baton pass, then grab a female spinarak and breed them together. unfortunately this means my ariados would be level 1 and i'd have to train it up quite a bit, which leads into my next problem…

PROBLEM #2: ariados is SLOWWW. its base speed is a measly 40 compared to entei's whopping 100! ariados needs to outspeed entei to use spider web first turn so entei can't just run away! i would have to get ariados to a very high level to outspeed entei, grinding all the way from level 1. the one plus side is that the roamers in FRLG are bugged to always have a 0 IV in defense, special attack, special defense, and speed, which means unless entei has a +speed nature, its speed would always be a predictable and relatively low 105 at level 50, which is what it's encountered at. so i had to get an ariados with a speed of 106 or higher.

to get around both these problems as efficiently as possible, while breeding spinarak, i bred quite a few to get one with a +speed nature, and ended up with a jolly spinarak. everstone doesn't work in FRLG unfortunately, so the nature was completely random each time. soon my DAUGHTER WAS BORN after like 2-3 hours of breeding because FRLG eggs are SLOOOW and i was being stubborn about the nature, which i was getting unlucky on LOL

then i maxed out her speed EVs real quick by fighting picnicker susie on route 13 over and over, who gives 12 speed EVs per battle, 24 with the macho brace, which i was using. this was just to make sure i would reach 106+ speed as fast as possible. then i grinded her levels by repetitively fighting the two trainers right outside the weird chansey dance guy's house in sevault canyon on seven island, right above tanoby ruins. using the vs seeker on them is the best grinding spot in the game since they give 20k experience per fighting both of them and there's a healing spot Right There. i was using exp share and leading with my level 100 jolteon named Egg who i adore with all my heart. ariados, now named koolaid, ended up crossing the speed threshold at level 62! yes this took a while lmao

as for electrode, i wanted one at as high of a level as possible so i hopefully wouldn't have to grind levels. i lucked out as electrode is found at a whopping level 64 in cerulean cave's bottom floor. a 5% encounter rate but as i had already caught numerous 5%s for the pokedex, i didn't really care. however it DOES have explosion and i'd rather not have the electrode explode on me before i could catch it which would then send me on a wild goose chase for ANOTHER 5% electrode… so i grabbed the random level 24 poliwhirl with the damp ability, which prevents explosion from working, out of my PC, and gave it a smoke ball from the celadon game corner so i could lead with her and easily run from each encounter that Wasn't Electrode.

now you may be wondering how i was going to handle capturing electrode once i was actually in the battle because SURELY it would just use thunderbolt or something and instantly murder my poliwhirl. however funnily enough electrode only has two attacking moves at level 64, swift and explosion. explosion obviously doesn't work, and swift is a physical attack in gen 3 due to all normal type moves being physical, this was before the physical/special split in gen 4. electrode's physical attack stat is a garbage 50 and swift only has a base power of 60 so i honestly wasn't concerned. and best of all, poliwhirl gets the move hypnosis, so i could easily put electrode to sleep and start chucking ultra balls… and the smoke ball ended up being useless because i somehow ran into electrode first try what the fuck LOL

anyways i named them gatorade to match with koolaid. truly the dream entei capturing team. i didn't even feel the need to grind any levels on gatorade, level 64 was more than enough, so i just slapped the two moves i wanted on them - thunder wave through the one-use tutor in silph co, and sonicboom through the move reminder on two island, costing me two tinymushrooms which i thankfully already had and did not have to go out of my way to grind.

however the hours worth of prep ISN'T DONE YET! because uhh…

PROBLEM #3: ariados has to be above entei's level to outspeed it (yes, even if it had a 31 IV in speed AND a speed boosting nature AND maximum speed EVs, it still wouldn't be enough at level 50), which means the repel trick can't be used to encounter it. tracking down the roamer is practically impossible without using repels to cancel out all other wild pokemon, and in gen 3, unlike later gens, you can't put a fainted pokemon in the front of the party for the repel trick instead. and if i DON'T lead with ariados, entei will run away when i try to swap into it. SO i decided i would have to run into entei once first through the repel trick method, which marks it as "seen" in the pokedex, and then i would track its location through the pokedex to encounter it while leading with ariados.

to accomplish this, i simply ran in and out of the building on route 16, going in and out of the grass in the process, which would constantly be randomizing entei's location until it happened to randomize onto route 16. i caught a staryu with illuminate as an ability to raise the chance of entei appearing, which does work while staryu is fainted (wouldn't want to go in and out of the grass while entei was on route 16 without encountering it!) and otherwise led with my level 50 magmar that was on my elite four team named Torch for the repel trick.

i bought a whopping 100 max repels for this task but i ended up getting entei within just a few lol. torch was holding the smoke ball just to be able to run away safely without any shenanigans!

and now entei was in the pokedex and able to be tracked that way!

however, there was still ONE more problem...

PROBLEM #4: luxury balls are a pain in the ASS to get in this game! they can't be bought from any shop. the only way to repeatedly get luxury balls in FRLG is to show a pokemon to selphy, a rich girl who lives in resort gorgeous on five island.

i will mostly skim over this because it's boring, but TLDR i had to continuously talk to her, fly back to the pokemon center, get the pokemon she wanted to see out of the PC because the step limit is 250 before she gets sick of waiting which is like nothing (i already had a living dex of every mon obtainable in leafgreen otherwise so this wasn't hard), surf to her, then spam A through dialogue with her butler in which i had a 70% chance of receiving a luxury ball. i did this over 40 times until i had 30 luxury balls, and sold off all the nuggets and other items she gave me. good lord this took a while

and now with ALL of that setup i was FINALLY ready to capture entei in a luxury ball. this took me literally all day and i was really excited. to consistently encounter entei, i saved in cerulean city and tracked it in the pokedex from there, opening it over and over after changing to any of the four routes connected to the city, and moving to an adjacent route from entei's location when it was close in the hopes of walking onto the same route it moved to when i did. i was following a map made by hangarofroam, he has a video tutorial on how to shiny hunt the FRLG roamers and encounter them as quickly as possible, and i highly recommend looking it up if you want to capture these roamers yourself, but tldr this is the map i was using:

and once i encountered entei i was finally able to use the strategy i had prepped so long to do... and it worked without a hitch!! entei can't try to use roar first turn because it wastes a turn trying to flee, which is prevented by ariados outspeeding and using spider web... then if it tries to use roar the next turn, i've already switched into electrode to block it with soundproof. so from there it's just a matter of whittling down entei's HP to the red with swift/sonicboom and paralyzing it with thunder wave, then tossing luxury balls until success!

and i GOT IT after 3 encounter attempts and 73 luxury balls thrown. and FINALLY i have all 171 national dex entries possible in a single copy of leafgreen with no connection to other games, and all the legendaries are in fancy ass luxury balls. i am winning.

this was ridiculous. please be proud of my accomplishments. i've had this file for less than 2 weeks and i already have over 70 hours of gameplay in it after doing all this AAAAA

also barely related but look at Egg my jolteon he had like no purpose in this story but i took a pic of him in front of entei before going on to capture entei because i love him so much pleas

thanks for coming to my fucking ted talk i am SOOO normal about pokemonsdfjkfds (joke)

[kaurwreck]

I think you're right that it's significant, and I think Mori is clever to recognize that Akutagawa is a rook.

Like a rook, Akutagawa is powerful, but generally contained and often undercut by his predictability. However, because he's keenly aware of his own constraints, and because others often aren't (especially regarding variables they've internalized as known), he's able to play into and against his own predictability to paradoxically surprise them.

He moves within the confines of his rigidity to shape outcomes, sometimes more effectively than his more dynamic opponents and peers. Rooks do that too, if you let them.

Me, knowing nothing about chess, probably overthinking the significance of referencing akutagawa in this scene, but is going to look it up later anyways

[wandagcre]

it's a trap (when you act like that) | wanda maximoff 🔞

(College!Perv!Best friend Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Fem Reader)

You cannot quite relate to the topic of pleasure. Being introverted and shy, your circle of people was limited, but you're more than grateful that Wanda - your best friend - is always there to help you out.

WARNING: corruption kink, pillow riding, first times, fingering, praise, wanda talking you through it - not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 4.2k

[perv!wanda series] | [masterlist]

For an hour, you settled on reading in comfortable silence with your best friend. Wanda laid on your lap comfortably, unlike you, she gave up skimming on her notes a few minutes ago. 

You giggle each time you catch her gaze on you. It was inquisitive and sometimes Wanda made silly faces. Thoughtful as ever, she’d pop in some candy in your mouth.

Her auburn hair grew out – instead, her brunette tresses were back. It was tempting for you the way they were sprawled out, wanting to comb them with your fingers and drop your notes – only having to listen to what stories your best friend would tell.

Lately, you noticed it’s been hard to be around Wanda. You can no longer hold her gaze than usual and you physically want to be closer to her – which was no problem because your best friend was always attentive and touchy with you. 

“Have you been working out? Look at these thighs,” You sharply inhaled as you felt fingertips, running feather-like on your skin. Wanda caught the act and it made her giggle softly. 

You shyly shook your head. “N-no. I haven’t.” 

She seemed not to buy your response. It’s the truth. Even if you indulged in some exercises, your workout routine was not strict about any type of weight lifting. Not like you had the time and all. In fact, it was one of the things that sometimes pulled you into your insecure thoughts, thinking that you’ve got an unattractive pair.

However, Wanda loves them as they were. She liked it when you got experimental with your wardrobe, changing it up with some short skirts that highlighted your legs and its curves. More so with your comfort in plain shorts, as it rewarded your best friend more of its exposure.

What Wanda didn’t like was winter and how it took away the sight of your gorgeous thighs. 

You insisted, “I’m serious! If you consider getting food from the top and bottom shelf of the fridge as squatting, then, my answer is yes.”

“Well, they look good to me. Keep it up.” Wanda playfully remarked. You chuckled lightly, not trusting your voice at the moment. “Want me to pull away?” 

Her voice was hypnotizing – insanely soothing. Almost like a balm, you’d say. Enough to make you re-read the damn sentence on your notes because you barely understood them. It doesn’t help that she kept her ministrations – tracing circular patterns that ascend to your inner thighs, causing goosebumps to wake.

“Took me by surprise, that's all. You can keep doing that if you want.”

“Is it relaxing?” Wanda whispered.

You shudder a bit and it made you scuffle in your position. “Kinda like you playing with my hair…”

Wanda was amused. You briefly wondered what was the joy in this – riling you up in some way. Were your reactions too entertaining? She had always been full of mischief, but lately, hanging out with your best friend made you…tense. It was not uncomfortable in a way that her actions burned, maybe they did, but in a different context. A realm you’ve never touched on – spurring you to confusion furthermore.

Her forefinger grazed over the space between your eyebrows. “What’s got you all so worked up, honey? You got this crease going on – you’re too tense. Wanna take a break?”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds nice.” You gave in. You couldn’t even process them anyway. 

You still appeared as bothered from Wanda’s point of view. She moved away from laying down between your thighs, looking at you who refused to meet her eyes. She was growing concerned. Had she overstepped this time?

Wanda was clueless. “Are you seeing someone?”

You looked incredulously at the woman.

“That’s out of the blue, Wands.”

“Can’t blame a girl for asking, (y/n/n). You’re usually reserved, I get that, but lately you seem to be always in deep thought? You know I can help, right?”

“I-I want to tell you but it can get weird.”

“Weird? Baby, we’ve known each other for years. How worse can it possibly get?” Wanda asked incredulously. Now she was concerned.

There’s nothing to hide. Wanda had a point, you thought. 

You whisper, “Lately, um. I-I’ve been trying to discover something.”

“Okay…” Wanda hummed, eyes focused on your lips.

You weren’t hesitant out of fear of being judged, but you didn’t know where your boundaries stood. 

Although, you remember how Wanda was so thoughtful that every time you bought some undies, she volunteers to come along and when you ask for her opinion, she carefully takes time to examine them. 

You remember her fingers tracing along the seams, making you turn around, asking for permission to touch so she can examine the material further around your butt and how it clung to your hips. They shouldn’t be tight, Wanda said.

“And it’s about pleasure. You know, that stuff.” You flail your hands. Can this get more embarrassing?

Meanwhile, Wanda was absolutely having the time of her life. She couldn't believe that this was happening. Of course, as the role of best friend, she would be very ecstatic to lead you.

She starts with a lilt of teasing in voice. “Sorry, honey, but there’s many things that can go around the topic of pleasure. I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

Poor you, didn’t even catch up to her teasing. You had enough.

“Touching the southern part!” You blurt out.

“Oh!”

“Yeah,”

“Huh.” Wanda looked inquisitive. Her head tilted to the side in faux wonder. In truth, she was thinking of ways to help you – defile you in this very bed – if she’s sly enough.

You groaned. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“See, now it’s weird. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no. It’s not weird. In fact, it’s normal to be curious about that. What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t think I’m doing it right. I feel bad because I heard discussions about it – overheard some girls from my class. It’s all the hype I can’t get onto– I just don’t seem to get there–” 

You were rambling all things at once. Wanda had to process the thought of you touching yourself and getting frustrated, of course you wouldn’t know. You needed her – someone to get through it.

And Wanda was more than willing to step up.

With a glint in her eye, she suggests, “Want me to help you?”

Were you hearing things right? Surely, you misheard Wanda. Your mind couldn’t wrap the thought of it. How on earth can she help you? Maybe she’ll write them down or give you a video that wasn’t too explicit as porn. She knew that you hated them, after all. 

“You–won’t that be weird between us? And how?”

“Don’t even think about that. It’s me, honey. You can always count on me. Even about these types of situations. Do you trust me?”

You answered in a heartbeat. “More than anyone.”

“Good. What do you think, do you wanna get started?”

Right now? Your eyes widened. But there won’t be another time, you suppose. “Shit. Okay, yeah, sure.”

“We’ll take things slow, hm?” She bit her lip, trying to contain her excitement. Seeing you all bare for her – Wanda might as well cum at the mere thought of it. The way you nodded attentively made her stomach flip. “We’re going to test the waters. Since you’re having trouble with your fingers, we can do that later. Maybe we’ll try a different approach.”

Your cheeks burned at Wanda’s elaborate plan. “O-okay. I’ll listen to you.”

Wanda purses her lips and moves closer to you. You looked apprehensive, but not as much previously. Good.

“Have you ever heard about riding a pillow?”

“N-no…” You meekly answered. Porn was straight to the point. Too uncomfortable for your liking. It was penetration and done. You tried watching one or two, then that was it – you never thought about revisiting and looking further beyond that. “That’s a thing?”

Wanda, however, couldn’t help but scoot closer to you. How she was very elated to hear this – the woman couldn’t wait to introduce more things to you in the future, to be the one showing you the ropes of it.

“Yes it is. Some find it very rewarding. It’s so easy. ” She supplements.

Out of curiosity, you cannot filter yourself. “What about you… have you ever?”

“Yeah, I have.” She smoothly replied. Wanda was so self-assured, you can’t help but envy it a little. “And don’t worry, I’ll be guiding you at every step of the way, honey. Exploration of what you like and how it works is nothing to be ashamed of.”

It did the trick for you; Wanda picked up a relief sigh coming out of you. She smiled, rubbing your thighs enough to create a comfortable warmth.

“Use my pillow – don’t worry, it’s easy to get them washed.” Your movements were slow and hesitant, continuously looking back and forth to Wanda’s piercing green eyes and to her pillow innocently hanging at the corner of her bed. Grabbing the item, she shoots you a proud smile. “Now, take your bottoms off for me.” 

For Wanda. You felt the heat creep from your stomach, riding in waves, up to your neck and whole face. She nudges you by nodding her head. You’re entirely sure that you’re beyond stunned right now. Discarding your shorts and underwear at the same time, you quickly throw them away and cross your thighs. Wanda’s words being uttered in an authoritative and raunchy manner was enough to make you wet – you didn’t want her to see the proof of that.

“So good. You’re doing so, so well baby.” Wanda licked her bottom lip in anticipation. “Now, flip that pillow by its seams – the edges are an important part of this. Then, just mount it.”

Your heart raced – you can’t believe that this was happening – you’re about to ride a pillow in front of your attractive best friend and she’ll talk you through your first orgasm. Right here in her own cramped bed and pillow. Doing as Wanda says, you spread your legs apart and mounted the pillow that stood by its edges. You gasped at the sensation; it was the softest thing your core has ever touched and it was slightly cold.

Looking back at Wanda, she seemed lost in your center – who wouldn’t be, given this rare opportunity? She always had a crush on you. But you didn’t even notice. Now, your friendship was taken on the next level, she thanked any deity out there for her patience. ((And her power over you right now? It was hard not to revel in that.))

You looked so adorable. Wanda could compare you to bambi right now, especially when you thought you were being sly. She saw the slick forming on your pussy from earlier as you were stripping. It was mouthwatering that it drove Wanda insane, prickling through each nerve of her body.

“What next?” You shakily asked. It was intimidating to have her eyes fixated on you – you couldn’t decipher what was going on behind those green eyes.

“Gyrate your hips. Back and forth, slowly.” Wanda orders with a low voice.

She watches you try to move back and forth at the pillow. Your pussy grazed on the fabric, making your eyes flutter at each soft contact, but it wasn’t enough for your pleasure nor Wanda’s.

She waddled closer and placed her hands firm on your hips. You bite the inside of your cheek, slowing down your motion out of surprise. The least you can do was have an ounce of dignity, you couldn’t moan in front of Wanda.

You sweet thing, Wanda thought. It was evident how desperate you were in your soft and messy thrusts. She was focused on how you moved your hips clumsily and your folds wetter, the pillow darkening as your arousal stained them.

She couldn’t take it much longer.

“You’re almost bouncing, honey. Do it like this – in sliding motions.” A moan inevitably escaped your lips as she pushed your hips alone, quite literally guiding you. Wanda shuddered in delight. “Want that pretty pussy of yours gliding in, get that friction working already. Don’t be afraid to put all of your weight in it. It’s much better, trust me (y/n/n).”

Pretty? Wanda even used it in an inappropriate context. It affected you more than you thought it would, that you felt a spurt of liquid drip from your core. Was it supposed to be like this? It was better than previously. Maybe it was truly your form that made a better change. You thrust your hips more and no longer hesitated upon resting your lower body’s weight. 

It was much better, just like Wanda had said.

Wanda’s bed creaked louder and louder. Of course, you were getting lost in your own needs – you didn’t even notice.

Your resolve was visibly breaking in front of Wanda which she absolutely relished on.

“Don’t let me stop you from moaning, baby. It’s all about your pleasure.” Wanda gently reassured you. It was all you needed apparently to let loose. “Thrust your hips harder.” She commands you. It sparked more need that travelled to your lower stomach down to your core. 

Was this the feeling people always blabbered about? Because you’re sure that you understood it now. It completely took over your senses like crazy.

Your hands placed in front for balance, you do as your best friend said. She truly knows her way around here. You haven’t felt this needy before. The friction she mentioned was settling in quickly and it was addicting against your pussy. You close your eyes and arch your back. The softness soon burned – a delicious contradiction – and it was enough to make you feel soaked.

“Just like that…” Her hips have never left yours and matched the rough sliding motions, grasping firm around your bare skin. “It feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so great.” For me, Wanda wanted to add.

“M-mm, y-yes,” You whimpered and nodded dumbly. 

“You can also experiment with other motions – try what’s best for you. You can do circles with your hips,”

You immediately try as she recommended. Wanda had to stifle a giggle right then and there. Her headboard was starting to hit against the wall with your messy yet hard thrusts. It was obvious that the pleasure was brewing already, to which Wanda deviously smiled at. 

“Can I touch you down there? I bet it’s sticky already…” She whispered directly to your ear. You feel your best friend’s hot-white breath grazing satisfactory against your neck. It tickles! 

It wouldn’t hurt right? It was a part of the lesson, you suppose. Wanda knew better and you trusted her. “Y-yes. You can touch me, Wands.”

Without further ado, your best friend immediately went in to trace your outer folds. Fuck, you were so wet. You immediately coated her fingers, terribly addicting that she had to stop herself from plunging in so suddenly.

You continued to gyrate harder and it seems that there was the ‘spot’ that everyone was talking about. You lost track of it, but you felt how the pleasure intensified and moaned unadulteratedly, louder than before, that spurred Wanda to repeat the motion harder. With every glide against the pillow that you do, Wanda’s fingers were there at the edge to stimulate your throbbing core. Your breathing pattern grew heaving.

It was so, so addicting to have your slit pressed against the once innocent material and the friction it provided you–

“Stop there,” Wanda firmly said. You halt out of concern, rethinking whether you did something wrong. Your best friend, however, was pleased at your expression. 

“D-Did I do something wrong?” You gulped and weakly asked.

“No, honey. You did so well.” Wanda caressed your jaw and held you by the cheek with her clean hand. A pleased grin broke out of you to which Wanda duly noted. You liked praises. “That was the first lesson. You need something to stimulate you into the mood, it is very important. Now I’ll touch you first so you can mimic them later on. Is that okay?” Her hands descend to trail them at the center of your torso and stopped by the pelvic area.

This was going so well. You even forgot and thought how dumb it was to doubt Wanda and how she would embarrass you. It felt as though it was more than what you asked of her.

You wet your lips, “M-more than okay.” 

At this point, you valued Wanda's opinion more than ever.

“Good girl. We’ll get started.”

She swept away the crumpling notes and the stained pillow. Wanda almost moaned at the mere sight. It was like an animal had rudely rammed through her room.

Wanda stared at your half-lidded eyes that beamed at her words. Your hair was frazzled and barely can manage your own breathing. She caused this. And hell, she can’t wait to ravish you further. You felt reassured with her comforting smile and voice leading you on.

Your best friend grabbed you by the thighs to pull you closer to her. Wanda hummed in delight, a crooked smile on her lips appeared as you released a throaty moan again as she pushed them farther apart. 

“Now, listen carefully, (y/n/n). You have to tease your folds first and gather the wetness here,” Wanda sultry uttered and started to stroke your folds again and you helplessly nod. “It’s no trouble right now, considering how soaked you are.” She bit her lip and teased you by bringing up her fingers that were coated by your arousal. “Don’t hide them from me. It’s so pretty to see you like this, honey.” You arched your back for her and became flustered at Wanda’s words.

So warm and inviting. Wanda was flooded with glee, that she swooped in before anyone else could. With this, she also intends to be your last. No way in hell she can share you now after this.

You feel your cheeks and ears grow hot. You buck your hips for more as Wanda starts to stroke vertically and then random patterns at your soaked pussy. It wasn’t enough to scratch the itch you’ve been longing for.

Your nostrils flared, “W-Wands, please..”

Wanda felt herself damp as you moaned her name. It was like music to her ears. She immediately changed your position, from your hips up to encouraging you to lay down flat on her bed and adjusting to settle on your side – her fingers not leaving the inside of your pussy.

“What do you need, baby?” She pressed a kiss on your ear. The gesture was meant to comfort you but you felt your body burning even more.

“I need you! It’s so sticky and tickling me- I don’t… Can you please h-help me?”

You were needy, just as Wanda wanted you to be. She riled you up enough that she even felt you drip more wetness as she plunged deeper inside of you and hit the spongy wall that her fingers could reach. You were more than compliant all throughout the session that it made her heart soar.

“You can also play with your breasts, it can add a better feel for you, baby.” 

You hesitantly reach for your pair and Wanda’s awaiting (needy) eyes were the final nudge for you. You wanted to do good. At this point, the lines were blurred; you didn’t know if it was to achieve orgasm or praise from your best friend.

Hands skimming underneath your shirt, you also pushed up your bra and experimentally squeezed the flesh. You groaned and eyes half-lidded again, threatening to shut.

Wanda was ecstatic that she had convinced you through this. Her motions never faltered – if anything it was more determined – as she watched you play with your tits. She thought it was cute how your underwear mismatched, her eyes caught the sliver of the pale material of your panties and your bra in the color of a colder tone. Were you tugging on your perked nipples? You were so eager and feeling comfortable enough. Wanda almost demanded you to take them off, wanting to see them. Another time.

She kept on stimulating your pussy and with the addition of you playing with your breasts – it was impossible to even control your moans anymore. 

You threw your arms quickly around Wanda’s neck and hands had wrapped themselves on her nape. Opposed to her firm and determined motions, you were gentle with how you caressed her skin. Wanda melted with no hesitation and now, her dorm room was reverberating with moans along you.

“It’s so sticky down here just as you said. Now,” Wanda’s own breathing was ragged and you had to force yourself to listen to her. “I’m going for your clit. It’s in the uppermost area, covered by your hood. Need to stretch you more-” She grabbed your hand and made them trace the areas for you to pinpoint them better. Fuck, Wanda was right. You were soaking wet. “That better?”

You agreed furiously, “Y-Yes, but–”

“I know, I know. You need more.” Wanda kept her ministrations inside of you, stretched you better that you had to let out a guttural moan. The spot was back and she kept hitting it now mercilessly. “Is that it? That feels much better?”

“Oh, yes!”

Your needy core greedily swallowed Wanda’s fingers and you had no idea. So drunk in pleasure. So lost without her. You’re so lucky that you had her. Wanda was just as intoxicated as you, her dilated green eyes drinking up the warmth of your pussy and your writhing sight.

Upon making eye contact, you didn’t know how to react to the revelation of how those green eyes unashamedly looked at you. It was similar as Wanda would when she was examining you while fitting clothes – only now they appeared more hungry and she’ll devour you.

And the thing is that you will gladly let her. Another needy moan was ripped out of you, disturbing your rail of thoughts as Wanda added her thumb to the stimulation that circled around your clit, you laid there helplessly clenching on the bed sheets while you were in Wanda’s grasp.

“W-Wands… Wands! I think I’m going to pee,” You shyly inform the woman and the heel of your palm pressed against her clavicle to push her away, Wanda only shushed you.

It was familiar to you, you think that you’ve reached this extent but you always stopped because you were very unsure of what follows after.

You felt dirty and it was embarrassing how you were bucking your hips to meet Wanda’s plunging in your core. It halted your mood a little and Wanda immediately picked it up, as your walls clenched harder around her digits.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Wanda’s sultry voice spurred your gears again. You huffed and absorbed her words. “Don’t worry about it, you’re going to cum. Just listen to my voice baby, you’re doing so great for me.” It is more than okay, you repeat in your head. Wanda’s making you feel so good you felt like you were going to combust.

Your muscles grew tense around the abdomen area and all over your thighs - you feel the knot forming in there. You are frenzied to chase it.

“Cum for me, come on, my good girl.”

Wanda was sweating now as you were, and she kept ramming inside of your warm walls, a final hard stimulation around your clit did its job to untangle the knot you were feeling. 

“Wanda!” A guttural moan was ripped out of you.

It was the most angelic sound that Wanda has ever heard.

Your eyes were still closed shut. Still whining as you fall apart, it was the most freeing experience you’ve ever encountered. It’s easy to say that you were beyond satisfied this time around. Your body was almost floating and your mind was lightheaded–you’re sure of it. Your legs were spasming a little and it was hard to ignore the vivid feeling of liquid oozing out of your core. It was never ending and Wanda was tempted to drink them all up.

“You looked so beautiful there, honey. I’m proud of you.” She cooed sweetly in your ears and pressed a kiss on your forehead that was glistening with sheer sweat. 

You grew hot at her words. “Oh–!”

The bed shook again and creaked as Wanda rode out your orgasm. The squelching sound was more vivid to your ears. You cried out loud, feeling that it was too much, held your best friend’s wrist and finally Wanda pulled her digits out. Before your best friend can calm you down–

An aggressive banging resounded against Wanda’s dorm walls.

“It’s midterms week! Stop fucking!”

You froze. You completely forgot where you were and how thin the dorm walls were, making you cover your face with your palm. Meanwhile, Wanda couldn’t be more bothered – she simply laughed at how evidently embarrassed you are, threading through her own hair with a familiar glint in her eyes.

“I don’t think I can face the people outside anymore,” You admit, groaning as you sober up from the high. 

Why did you have to be so loud? 

“Mmm. Lucky for you, we’re staying inside for a while. I got some other tricks I wanted to show you.” Wanda bit her lip, crimson also spreading through her cheeks as she closed the gap again between you.

She can compare your gaze to a deer caught in headlights. Always so attentive and compliant.

With a little more touch from your best friend, you felt the hotness starting again in your lower stomach, making it twitch with familiar need – your studying session long forgotten and replaced with a different lesson.

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