#there’s still additions after your reblog and they reblogged those ones

[mashounen1945]

For anyone wondering if this actually is effective: the OP said at the very beginning of this post that this strategy was already used to stop the so-called "Kids' Online Safety Act", and it worked. So yes, this is worth it, but only if enough people (especially USA citizens, which I'm not) contribute to this.

The OP also added this in the replies: proof from the FBI about election interference:

A couple of users pointed out something important in the reblogs: Kamala Harris did concede, but that's just a formality, not something legally binding.

Oh, and there's one more thing I found kinda weird in this election: Michigan, Wisconsin, Arizona and Nevada were four swing states were Biden won in 2020 and Trump apparently won now; they're also four swing states where Democrat candidates won for the Senate at the exact same time. I'm far from being an expert in the USA's election system (I'm used to Argentina's system, which works in an entirely different way and encourages each citizen to vote candidates & lists of one same party/coalition for all categories), but this might be another sign that something went wrong and both a recount and an investigation are needed.

Here are other similar posts with additional information, by @welcometoqueer, @adumbdemon, @kachikirby and @feralcringeman:

And lastly, for anyone who feels exhausted and is thinking about disconnecting from politics and is just done with everything after wasting months on the campaign effors for nothing:

I get it. I felt the exact same way when Milei, our local Trump wannabee, won for President last year. But there are two things you people have and we don't: actually functional & effective ways to contact your representatives directly (which allows for democracy to be more than just voting once every few years, instead of merely being a "delegative democracy"), and one big nation-wide political party working like a well-oiled machine to concentrate and coordinate your efforts (and that party will remain in control of the Presidency and the Senate for the next two months, no matter what happens). Both of those tools can get things done, but only if enough people are informed about their existence and use them. This is also why this whole thing absolutely must be known outside of social media's (namely Tumblr's) echo chambers.

Besides, doing these calls and sending this messages is just as easy as voting, if not easier. Do you remember how we insisted that voting is the bare minimum any citizen can do to participate in politics? The same goes for this. Not only is easier and much less exhausting than campaigning, but it might be more effective as well.

If both the recount and the investigation are carried out, it's very likely that Trump loses: either it's found out that he actually didn't win, or it's blatantly confirmed that he won by cheating. And even if he doesn't fall, this goes beyond who becomes the next President of the USA: the exact composition of the House of Representatives isn't clear yet, so you people can still "turn it blue" and ruin his day forever.

This is it for now, I guess... Oh! And if you meet any other Argentinean like me, tell them to spread this too. At least it'll be useful to give Milei the middle finger as well.

PLEASE CALL THE WHITE HOUSE TO CONVINCE THEM TO DO A RECOUNT. IT WORKED FOR KOSA IT CAN WORK NOW

Use this number to text Kamala directly and demand a recount and investigation

And here’s a script to use. Also personalize it to make sure it isn’t spam

Hello Ms. Vice President. I'm contacting you to request that you do not concede, and instead request an investigation and recount of the votes. Right now, many people on social media are finding suspicious signs that may point to Trump cheating (links at the end of the message). Additionally, many media outlets are declaring his victory before all votes have been counted. I understand that you have a duty to protect democracy and a peaceful transition to power, but I fear that accepting these results would also mean accepting a potential dictatorship that can still be avoided.

Thank you for your time.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I adore when I see blogs I recognize on other posts that organically come on to my dashboard

[arktic-rage]

I am NOT fucking around this year, I am not about to be spoiled of the ending like I was with Inquisition 😤

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and they take their children to the work

pairing: dad & husband! cyno, kaveh, lyney, wriothesley x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, parenthood, domesticity and fluff. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

x

Cyno

If the Matras had ever dared to think that they'd see a softer, more relaxed side from their general since he had become a father, they could not have been more mistaken as Cyno remained as ruthless and as sternly faithful to his beliefs as he had always been.

In fact, the birth of the twins only served to intensify his sense of morality and justice; his desire for preservation and security not only applied to the Akademiya' laws, but now extending to the well-being of Aryan and Isaar as well.

Even so, it was still common for many to still try to test their luck in deceive the General Mahamatra and risk cheating the system believing that they'd get away with it in the end. After all, what are the chances of their actions being noticed by Cyno when he already had so many duties to worry about?

Even if he was working, surely the well-being of his sons came as the first priority, right?

That was what they thought.

With the little ones babbling and fidgeting uncontrollably on his torso, it wasn't difficult to assume that Cyno would focus all his attention on his children rather than his surroundings, giving the advantage of a perfect loophole for some scholars of Rtawahist Darshan to escape into the desert to do use of forbidden knowledge — too unaware of the reddish irises that were also watching them attentively.

“They never learn,” he sighed in irritation as he adjusted Isaar into the sling to his chest and Aryan to his back, “Looks like we have a long day ahead of us, little ones. Dad will show you what happens to those who dare defy the rules.”

A cute laugh escaped his babies' mouths bringing a soft smile to Cyno's face at their reaction. Well, it seemed like he couldn't let his kids down now, could he?

On that day, Cyno had returned home early with a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment; his twins babies, although remarkably happy, were already sleeping snuggled by their father's warmth, very exhausted from the day's activities.

On the other hand, the scholars who had dare challenged his abilities learned that Cyno's judgment should never be tested ever again. His frightening reputation was not something to take so lightly. However, there was something even terrifying about being stopped by the General Mahamatra while he takes care of his children.

They took notes to never doubt a dad' sense of responsability ever again.

Kaveh

There was something so absurdly attractive about Kaveh carrying your daughter in his arms as he discussed a construction project that you could do nothing but revel in the sight of.

The seriousness in his eyes, his slightly disheveled hair and the professionalism in the tone of his speech were three of the main characteristics that made you fall in love with the architect. But the addition of your baby girl sleeping snuggled against his chest definitely served to leave you — and all the other women present there — enchanted by him.

Perhaps this was the reason why his clientele had increased so much in recent months and the number of scams had dropped significantly, consequently also increasing his workload. Not only had fatherhood served to boost your husband's reputation and diligence, but your daughter had unwittingly become the architect's lucky charm as well.

While it wasn't unusual for both you and Kaveh to bring the baby with you to your respective jobs, the frequency with which Zahra accompanied him to the sumerian streets intrigued you. Not that you doubted your husband's ability to provide the necessary security and well-being for the little one, no. When it came to his daughter, you knew that Kaveh wouldn't think twice about risking his own life if it guaranteed her smile. It was more your uneasiness as a mother and wife speaking louder that even your husband's reassuring smiles couldn’t appease.

But in the end, you could only laugh to yourself at how worried you were for nothing because both Zahra and Kaveh were doing very well.

Kaveh's serene expression told you how calm he was and you assumed that negotiations with the client were also going well. Although Zahra was still sleeping, your little princess caught the attention of the citizens around them who cooed at the sight of father and daughter, causing some to approach them and taking an interest in Kaveh's work in the process. 

Or in the case of some ladies, taking an interest in the handsome dad who was giving them some decorations advice and a bright smile for free.

Who would've thought that to become such a respected professional you only needed to bring your cute daughter to work, huh?

You just hoped that these potential clients would see Kaveh's beauty and dedication beyond appearances, otherwise you’d have bad news to tell your husband. And a lot of spinsters to put in their place too.

Lyney

“Ok, kids. Remember to listen to papa and auntie Lynette, and no runs. Especially you Quenn. Stay by your sister’s side, please,” you tell your twins who are getting ready to leave with their dad.

Quentin only giggled and Corinne nodded in agreement like the good girl she was. You could already imagine the antics that were going on in your son's head now that he was somewhat aware that he’d be going out alone with his father, although you also knew that Quentin was a well-mannered boy and would do everything he could not to cause problems for his parents or upset his twin sister.

It wasn't your children's first time accompanying their dad to a rehearsal at the Opera Epiclese, but it was definitely the first time that you wouldn't be around to watch them since you had personal matters to attend to. Even if you didn't worry about your husband's ability to care for and keep the children safe, you still liked to remind them how they should behave to avoid possible accidents as the twins had also reached the dreaded curiosity phase. 

Furthermore, this reminder not only applied to the little ones but also to the magician, who had a heart as genuine as those of his children and could often be more playful than them.

“Don’t worry, my love. I'm sure the little ones will behave very well”, Lyney assures you, placing a kiss on your cheek and bringing the twins into his arms, “Ready to see daddy's new magic tricks?”

Luckily for Lyney, it wasn't a busy day at the theater; his team was already carrying out their duties even before his arrival and Lynette had already tested all their new magic items for the performance that’d take place in a few days.

Corinne and Quentin, despite being too young to understand what was happening around them, couldn't help but love watching all the preparation for what they knew would be a huge spectacle. Their little amethyst eyes sparkled like two pairs of jewels as they saw the stage being set up and, of course, their father starting some illusionist tricks.

Seeing the sweet curiosity on his children's faces, a warmth spread in Lyney's chest as he felt truly happy to be able to share his passion with his family.

And taking advantage of the twins' focus on him, the man created a small and brief exclusive show where he took a deck of cards from his pocket and manipulated each one of them so that they appeared and disappeared from one hand to the other. When the entire deck was gone, Lyney giggled at Corinne and Quentin's shocked looks. But when it reappeared once again from under his sleeves and the cards were thrown up, transforming into dozens of crystalflies soon after, the children's joyful and melodious laughter echoed throughout the Opera Epiclese bringing a smile not only to their dad but everyone there.

At the end of the day, when the whole family was back home, Lyney proudly shared with you how a good boy and a good girl your kids were; listening carefully to their father and aunt, and respecting the other employees.

But, well... it wasn't like you needed to know that the reason behind their behavior was because Lyney had barely worked; instead, he preferred to spend all his time in the company of his two favorite people in the whole world.

Wriothesley

The Fortress of Meropide’ veteran residents already knew Cameron as you and Wriothesley had no problem taking the little boy on your respective patrols.

In fact, many of them looked forward to meeting the Duke's son and being able to interact with the docile and laughing baby. Cameron's melodious giggles could melt even the hardest of hearts, and you and your husband appreciated the affection the prisoners showed your son.

However, when it came to the new inmates, you and Wriothesley had a mutual agreement to prioritize Cameron's safety before introducing him to the unfamiliar faces. After all, you can't be too careful, and the information documents about the detainees that came from the Palais Mermonia did little to say what kind of people you’d be dealing with.

Fortunately, to this day you or Wriothesley have never had to use your strength to educate newcomers and you hoped it’d stay that way.

That day, however, Wriothesley had no option but to take his son to welcome the new “residents” who were arriving. Normally you’d have stayed behind to look after your son, but you were also suddenly summoned to a meeting at the Court of Fontaine and left in a hurry after saying goodbye to your family.

“It seems it’s you and me again today, buddy,” Wriothesley said to his baby as he finished changing his dirty diaper and dressing him in appropriate clothes. When finally secured in the sling, Cameron cooed in delight.

Wriothesley smiled fondly.

“Yes. That's right, Cam. We’re late. Time to welcome the new residents.”

Now, although it was common knowledge that the current director of the Fortress of Meropide was nothing if not a fair and respectable man, there were still rumors about his strength and ferocity in combat that frightened even the most brutish of men. The fontainian citizens still harbored a certain fear of him and the prison's residents, so his reputation on the surface was not a pleasant thing to hear, even though Wriothesley didn't seem to care what these people thought of him either.

Thus, the prisoners who'd arrive that morning were already preparing for the worst when they went to meet the Duke; from physical punishments to psychological torture.

What they didn't expect, however, was to be cordially received by the director himself, who was carrying a baby that looked a lot like him trapped on his chest. While it was no secret that Wriothesley had a wife and son, the sight in person was shocking.

In the end, the reception had ended well for both sides. The new prisoners were given all the essential information about the prison system and its administration, and Wriothesley was able to get to know them better. It seemed that people became unconsciously more honest in the presence of babies.

Hours later when you returned home, your husband was enjoying a cup of tea while Cameron happily drank his formula while enjoying the warmth emanating from his father's arms.

You could say they had a good day.

[harryspet]

homestead [3] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, DUBCON, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Hello guys, I know a lot of you asked to be tagged but I am only tagging those who reblog AND give me your thoughts on the story. Please refrain from asking to be tagged especially if you are not interacting with the story in any other way. Enjoy!

word count: 3.0k

In which you start to adapt to your role in the life Rafe's chosen for you.

homestead masterlist

During one of the three bathroom trips you made during the night, you realized your bedroom door wasn’t locked. You slipped on fluffy slippers that you’d found in your closet and slipped out of the bedroom before you could overthink your decision. Admittedly, after Rafe showed you the rest of the house, spending so much time in your room felt wrong. You thought you’d feel stronger, faster, but every thought of him gave you flashbacks to his hands pinning your arms above your head and gripping your thighs so hard that they bruised. The threat of that happening again loomed over you, and Rafe seemed to know that and used it to his advantage. 

You hadn’t known the time either, but the hallway was dark, and no light streamed in through the windows, telling you that it wasn’t yet daybreak. You moved slowly down the stairs, doing your best to reduce the creaking. You weren’t quite sure what your goal was. Escape, obviously, but it couldn’t be this easy. 

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you were met with a silent house, except for the slight hum of the refrigerator. The front door was perfectly in view, and you quickly approached it. It was locked, but you had expected that. You noticed a small blinking red light near the front door as you looked around for something to break a window or unlock the door. The camera was pointed right at the front door. Who knows what type of alarm would sound if you even opened it. 

As you fully turned around, your eyes landed on a shadow looming at the bottom of the stairs. He crossed the walkway to the farther wall, flipping on a light switch, “What are you doing?” He asked as you rubbed your eyes, feeling blinded by bright lights. 

“Getting some water,” You lied, not making much of an attempt to look less suspicious, “Couldn’t find the kitchen.”

You should’ve known he’d have more layers of protection. After all, you were the newest addition to the livestock he was keeping. You noted his jeans, workboots, and t-shirt, realizing that he was up to start his chores. 

“Couldn’t find the kitchen?” He repeated back, his arms crossed over his chest, his face telling you he was close to lecturing you like a child. 

“I got turned around in the dark,” You added, “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you some water then,” He said, much to your surprise. You stepped towards him, and his hands found the small of your back again, and you instantly felt his hands everywhere. For you, he retrieved a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the refrigerator water dispenser, “Good morning, Honey.”

The clock above the stove told you it was almost five in the morning. 

You reached for the glass, but he held it out of your reach. “Good morning,” you replied back obediently. He withheld it still, leaning down to press his lips to yours. Just like on the nursery floor, you froze, but you didn’t pull away. 

When he finally let you have the glass, you tried your best not to shake. He was still watching you intently, even as you sipped at it. 

“How’s the little one feeling?”

The way he spoke was so warm and part of you wanted to accept it, to accept the care and love and warmth he so obviously wanted you to feel too. You could choose to be happier and let your baby feel that happiness too.

“Good,” you answered, “He’s fine.”

He wanted you to say more but you stared back, maintaining your calm. If you stayed calm, it was easier for him to perceive your obedience. 

“Good,” he echoed. 

You’d decided then that you wouldn’t hole up in your room if you could help it. You knew less and less about his daily schedule within the confines of your room, and you needed to learn exactly when he left, when he returned, and how long he was gone each time.

“You should get some more sleep,” You were practically pinned against the counter. Rafe reached out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ears, letting his thumb trace against your jaw, “When I come back, we can talk about how you can start helping out around the house. That should keep you busy. Less wandering that way.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

When he finally let you go, you headed back upstairs to your room. Neither of you acknowledged the unlocked door. You didn’t want to give him a reason to change his mind, believing he was trying to quietly show you that he had loosened his grip. 

You woke again to a quiet house a few hours later. Your morning routine was beginning to consist of making the bed, taking a bath, and taking your vitamins. You found it strange when you got your own room at Pope’s house but now you found it even stranger to have your own room and not have to prepare to go to work. 

After your bath, you started spending more time just looking in the mirror, admiring your bump and how the bags under your eyes were already starting to look less drastic. You hadn’t realized you’d been depriving yourself of sleep. You rubbed stretch mark cream gently over your stomach, and you actually had the time to talk to your baby. 

Instead of your usual silk pajamas, you picked out a flowing white skirt and a blue button-up. The material felt light and breathable, which you usually required to withstand the summer heat in your current condition. 

From your closet, you pulled out the wicker basket you’d been piling your dirty laundry into. It felt wrong to open your door again, but it was a reminder that you’d been rewarded for your decisions so far. You carried your laundry downstairs, finding Rafe leaning against the kitchen island, enjoying an apple. His eyes lit up at the sight of you despite just having seen you hours ago. 

He looked dirty from the day already. His hat was turned backward to keep his long hair from his face, and sweat was on his brow. 

“You look pretty,” He said, his voice softer than you expected given his appearance. Instinctively, you wanted to roll your eyes but instead your lips pressed into a thin line. Of course he thought you looked pretty. Undoubtedly, he hand picked all the clothing in your closet. 

“Thanks,” You said, gesturing to the basket in your hand, “... I’m gonna start a load.”

He nodded his head to give you permission and you turned towards the laundry room. It was situated on a small hallway that contained the doors to the guest bathroom and a room he hadn’t shown you yet. The room was relatively small but there were tall white cabinets above each washer that seemed to provide a lot of storage. The washer and dryer themselves were updated and you assumed they’d be easy to use. You realized quickly that there was another laundry basket in the room, this one filled to the brim with what you assumed was Rafe’s work clothes. After finding the detergent, you started loading your dirty clothes into the laundry, deciding washing them with Rafe’s muddy ones would ruin the quality of yours. 

Later, you thought. You wouldn’t mind doing a load for him later. What else was there to do around here?

When you returned back to the kitchen, Rafe asked, “You think you can handle making dinner tonight? Gonna go back out later and it would be good to have a meal waiting.”

Your mouth parted. The idea of making dinner made you more nervous than upset at the fact that he was already filing you into your role as his housewife, “Um,” You started, standing on the opposite side of the island, “What would I make?”

“Anything you want, really. There’s cookbooks by the window seal if you need ideas,” He crossed his arms over his chest as he thought out loud, “Fridge and pantry are stocked. We’ve got about a million eggs and I just had one of the cows butchered so there’s plenty of beef.”

“I can try,” You said unsure.

“Good, and I know it’ll be great,” He smiled as he rounded the island, “Make yourself something filling for breakfast and then come up to my office after, okay? The door across from the nursery.” His hands brushed against your waist as he walked past. 

All you did was nod, your mind already calculating what you might possibly be able to throw together. You didn’t have much experience cooking, whatever foster family you were with when you were growing up could usually only feed you frozen stuff and ramen. With JJ, you lived the same and with Pope, his Mom usually did most of the cooking. 

Rafe seemed to have more confidence in your abilities than you expected. Or maybe he thought it was such an easy task that not even you could mess it up. 

+

You made yourself a bagel with cream cheese and after you finished it, you still felt like you were starving. You’d noticed that you’d started wanting to snack more often but you’d never had this much food available to actually do so. Rafe wasn’t nearly exaggerating enough when he said the kitchen was stocked. Knowing Rafe was expecting you, you grabbed a handful of blueberries and practically scarfed them down on your way up the stairs. 

You glanced at the nursery for only a moment before you turned toward’s Rafe’s office. “Come in,” You heard immediately after knocking, You expected some sort of dungeon but the room was painted a light color similar to the rest of the house. His desk was large but pressed against the furthest window. Shelves decorated each side of the walls and the only other seating was a smal, comfy brown couch, “C’mere, Honey.” 

He waved you closer and you walked until you were standing in front of his chair. On his laptop, you saw a screensaver of him and Wheezie out on the water in Kildare. You wondered if he’d told his little sister about you or if he was even planning on bringing his family around.

“Do you have everything you need for your room to feel comfortable?”  

You nodded and he grabbed ahold of your hand, “Have you thought about anything you want to add to the nursery?”

The nursery was a room you’d like to not think about for awhile, “No,” You said, “It’s a little early to have everything ready, don’t you think?”

“It's not too early, Y/N. You have to like, you know, nest.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Nest? Like a bird?”

“It means to get your environment ready for the baby. It’s like some natural, primal instinct Mom’s have. Some shit like that.”

“Huh,” You still gave him a questioning look, “Still getting used to this environment. Probably will be for awhile.”

Rafe smirked despite the fact that you were poking at him, “You seem pretty comfortable already,” He added, looking you over, “Speaking of getting used  to the environment. I wanted to go over my expectations.”

“Your expectations,” You mimicked. 

“I’m expecting dinner tonight but, in general, I want you to get in the habit of preparing at least two meals a day. I’ll let you sleep in most mornings because I have to be up so early but lunch and dinner should be prepared.” 

“Rafe, I—“

He interrupted you, grabbing your waist to pull you into his lap. You yelped in response but he continued on, “Keeping everything clean, vacuuming, mopping, doing the laundry, changing the beds, is also expected. I’m sure you can figure out how to do all those things.” 

“Rafe—“

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you do all of that when it gets close to your due date but I think those chores are reasonable.”

“Is that what you expect of me forever? To stay inside and clean and cook?”

“Only for now. I’ll show you how to do some of the outside chores sometime soon.”

“…that farmers market you were talking about. Will you ever take me there?” 

“What happens is really not up to me,” He pressed you closer to him, his hands started to trace the skin of your thighs, “Depends on how you react to things.” 

It was a clear message despite the fact that you didn’t want to hear it. “I think I can do more than be stay at home mom.” 

“I know you can do more, Honey. You have been doing so much more than one person should do,” Despite the fact that he was taking away everything you knew that you were, he managed to compliment you at the same time, “I can already see you’re gonna be a great Mom. Don’t you want time to just focus on being one? Yeah you’ll be home a lot but that’s so much time you can spend with the baby.” 

Not everyone gets to do that. It was a privilege. You were starting to feel ungrateful for not thinking that way. 

He continued, “Think about it. You can teach him everything, he’ll be so smart, and he’ll feel so loved because you’ll be right there to tell him — every morning, everyday, every night.” 

You turned your face from him, your eyes staring to well with tears, “Of course I want that.” 

“I want you to have that. You just have to be mine first, okay?” 

You brought your hand to your face, wiping tears before they fell, but wanted to roll your eyes, “I should get started on all those chores.”

You tried to stand, to push away from him, but he gripped your waist tighter. He placed his hand around the side of your neck, turning your head face towards him. “Don’t do that,” he was almost pleading with you. “I know you need more time … I just . . . I can’t help but get ahead of myself.”

“You’re right,” You gritted, “I need more time.”

“But the way your body responds to me,” He pushed you closer until your foreheads touched. With his other hand, he gripped your thigh tightly, and his hand started to move closer and closer between your legs, “Makes me feel like the good ol' times.”

His voice vibrated through your body, and you cursed how he could simultaneously make you feel so much. You needed the closeness desperately, but this was all wrong. You should be this close with JJ, but now you are even further from him. It made your heart ache, but Rafe’s hands and compliments made it a bit less. 

“Be gentle,” You warned. 

“I can be gentle,” He smiled against your lips before he pressed his into yours. You hesitated to move them in response, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just wanted you closer. He kissed you until you were practically out of breath, “I can be good.”

“Rafe,” You whispered, trying to find your voice.

“Relax, Honey,” He hushed you, lifting you until you fully faced him, straddling his lap. As his hands moved up your skirt, you closed your eyes, trying to control your racing thoughts. Soon, his fingers were pulling aside your underwear, “You like it, baby. You wouldn’t feel this wet if you didn’t like it. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell on you.”

His fingers were slow and careful, and soon you were letting out a breath and letting go of the tension in your body. You could focus for a brief moment. Forget that Pope and JJ probably thought you were dead. 

“Let me take care of you,” As you leaned forward, Rafe spoke in your hear. Your lips were tight, not letting a moan escape your lips but your body was shuddering, “That’s it, you’re doing so well.”

Your vow of silence didn’t last long when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you. You moved your hips against him as he held you close, and he guided you through your orgasm. Of course, after the glow subsided, you regretted it, “The last time we did that, you were in the back of my truck,” Rafe said, and you could practically hear his smirk. He didn’t fight you when you climbed off his lap, fixing your underwear and skirt, “I believe you were wearing a skirt too then, your waitress uniform … You look even more beautiful now, though.”

That was hard to believe. 

He watched you with a smug smile, clearly pleased with himself. The flash of the memory made you feel like some part of you really hadn’t grown up, even after all this time. 

“I need to get started,” You said, your voice starting to shake. 

Without hearing another word, you quickly exited the office, your mind a whirlwind again. 

You spent the rest of the day immersed in household chores. You did yours and Rafe’s laundry, vacuumed the living room, and dusted wherever possible. The repetitive tasks gave you a sense of calm, a momentary escape from the emotions. You moved so you didn’t have to think, and the day seemed to pass faster that way. 

Using one of the cookbooks Rafe mentioned, you chose a recipe and made beef stew with roasted vegetables and a fresh salad. It was your first time making food that didn’t come inside a box with instructions on the side. It was more meticulous than you anticipated, and you found yourself trying the finished stew over and over, adding salt, pepper, and other seasonings as you saw fit. 

The aroma filled the kitchen, proving you a small sense of pride.

Rafe had gone back outside to work, but when he returned, he was slightly out of breath and carrying a rifle. The sight of it made your heart stop.

“What happened?” You moved closer, your voice laced with concern.

You watched as he tucked the gun into a compartment built into the wall near the door and he kicked off muddy boots, “One of our cows had a stillborn,” As he walked further into the house, walking further into the house, “Damn buzzards wouldn’t stop bothering it, and the mom was getting upset. Had to shoot off a warning shot to get them to go away. Had to bury it for her."

“Oh,” Was all you got out. The idea made you feel sick. You couldn’t help but get an ominous feeling. You rubbed your hand over your stomach protectively.

His demeanor shifted as he caught sight of you, his expression going from annoyed to excited, “Something smells good,” Rafe smiled; his mind had obviously moved on already. 

“Yeah,” Luckily, you felt your baby move inside of you, a small reassurance, “Dinner’s ready.” 

A/N: Hello guys, I know a lot of you asked to be tagged but I am only tagging those who reblog AND give me your thoughts on the story. Please refrain from asking to be tagged especially if you are not interacting with the story in any other way. Hope you enjoyed!

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[glossysoap]

price recs / poly 141 recs

requested by the one and only @vgilantee! i’m so sorry this took so long 😭

mind the warnings/tags when clicking on each link.

like i said with my last rec list, if i think of any others i’ll edit this post to add them, then i’ll reblog this post with a note saying it’s been added to.

in addition, as i was putting this post together, i read all of these recs again. i have reblogs of them all drafted up, even if i’ve already reblogged them before. after i post this, i’ll start posting those reblogs so i’m sorry if it clogs your dash 😅

price:

- the space in between by @391780 (i mean come ON. you know i had to. that series, and early, has me by the neck. i rec anything from early, duhhh)

- the arrangement by @/391780 (as i’m typing this i’ve only read the first chapter and i already KNOW i’m obsessed with it)

- mafia price au by @cordeliawhohung (there’s also pieces for ghost, gaz and soap in the same universe that i recommend as well! it’s all linked in the same masterlist)

- oral fixation by @/cordeliawhohung (foaming at the mouth for this oh my god 😵‍💫 and literally anything by core obviously)

- mask on by @/391780

- the captain’s wife by @/391780

- first time by @/391780

- sick day by @/391780 (so so sweet and what a cute read 🥹 tossing this at char while they’re sick because it’s absolutely perfect.)

- captain’s on the way by @/391780 (once i get that text, oh you can bet your ass i’ll be ready 🥰)

- price returning from deployment by @vgilantee (i recommend anything from char duhhh. if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions char has added to this post.)

- kissing price by @/vgilantee (literally the dream)

- subspace + oral fixation by @/vgilantee (oh jeez 😵‍💫 this is still just as hot as when we talked abt it in dms)

- cumming in his pants by @/vgilantee (if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions that char has made to this post)

- heavy by @/vgilantee (i know it’s heavy, i just know it. i can hold it—)

- were - price’s cock by @/vgilantee (if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions that char has made to this post)

- cockwarming him while sick by @/vgilantee (check the reblogs and you’ll see any addition that char has made to this post)

- devoured by @xxshadowbabexx (woof woof woof oh my god. still barking at this request you filled for me 🤭)

- rules are made to be broken by @/xxshadowbabexx (oh lord oh lord oh lord. foaming at the mouth for this request you filled for me 😵‍💫)

- you stopped sharing your location with price by @syoddeye (one of my first reads that yanked my ass into dark fic 😵‍💫 i need that man)

- barista sized hole by @/syoddeye (god this changed me 😵‍💫 bark bark bark. literally anything from sy!! duh)

- flashing by @/syoddeye (oh i’m gonna need him to chase me thru the house just like that)

- thighs + choking kink by @pfhwrittes (anything from p really. oh this made my fat little heart sing!!!)

- male submission by @/pfhwrittes (i need him i need him.)

- older by @femalefemur (oh lord this spoke to me 😵‍💫)

- calling him captain by @/femalefemur (GOD the title kink/honorific kink was fed with this. i rec anything from cyn, obvi)

- peeping tom i / ii / iii by @secretsynthetic (i wanna say these were the first pieces i read from naomi and ugh, they warmed my heart. i rec everything from naomi, duh.)

- priceghost/puppygirl reader intro i intro ii / i / ii / iii by @/secretsynthetic

- tiger balm by @/secretsynthetic (so so precious. i love pricegaz as a ship and naomi captures it so so well and adding reader into the mix just makes it even better 😵‍💫)

- take me home, country road by @ceilidho (duh, of course. and i think we all know i rec everything from ceil)

- pretending to be husband/wife by @/ceilidho (woof woof woof)

- babysitter au by @/ceilidho

- captain price x reader x captain mactavish by @sprout-fics (this was such a NEED. also i rec anything from her, duh)

- (re)organized crime by @charliemwrites (oh this series is so fucking cute. i’m in love! i rec anything from charlie, let’s be real.)

- price’s thighs by @captainswhore (i love everything they post and i love when you tag me for my thoughts on things 🥺 i rec anything from them)

- hoarfrost i / ii by @eilidh-eternal (the way this feeds my predator/prey kink is absolutely outrageous. i love it so much never stop please 😭 rec everything from eilidh, duh)

- house hunting by @/eilidh-eternal

- nevermind i / ii by @captainfern (these were one of the first cod fics i ever read and whew buddy, it not only infected me with the price bug (that’s never leaving) but its also one of the fics that made me wanna start writing for cod. so i’m absolutely rec’ing everything from fernie 🥹)

- headlock by @/captainfern (rorororo oh my god. y’all know how i am about headlock sex.)

- you know you’re right by @/captainfern (jealous bodyguard price fucking you stupid? oh i need him)

- about a girl i / ii by @/captainfern (i’m always fucking weak for the trope ‘he makes you squirt for the first time and now he’s gonna make you do it like 5 more times if it’s the last thing he does’)

- bury your teeth in me by @yeyinde (jesus christ this was so hot, i’m stunned. i rec anything from lev, ofc.)

- spanked by price by @/yeyinde

- keep quiet by @kyletogaz (woof woof woof! that’s me barking! i rec anything from jess!)

- retirement party by @sentientcave (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing regardless bc i know it’s gold. i rec anything from charlie)

- firewatch by @roosterr (oh this was amazing. i loved their banter!! so cute! i rec anything from rooster!)

- outside it starts to pour by @/roosterr

- john? by @ghastlybirdie (sunny this was so 😭😭 when i first read it (and any time after that) i just about cried bc it’s so!!! so so sad but also precious. it’s so immersive and amazingly done. i rec anything from sunny ily)

- my daddy didn’t love me by @makoodles (oh lorddddd this fed me so well. daddy issues gang rise up 😭 i rec everything from them)

- walkthrough by @mikichko (sosososo cute!! i rec everything from kiko)

- inspections by @moondirti (fuck fuck fuck 😵‍💫 i rec everything from them ofc)

- price + nik inspection by @ghouljams (literal legend, ofc i rec anything from them!)

- backshot hc by @/ghouljams

- landscape with honey by @/ceilidho

- neighbors by @eowynstwin (i rec literally anything from madi!!! send them love <3)

poly 141:

- origins of poly 141 x reader by @/vgilantee (keep an eye out for any additions to the post, as always. i rec anything and everything from that au)

- monster 141 au by @/vgilantee (i know it’s not all technically poly but in my head it is, so 😌 and i rec anything and everything from that au) click the tag under that post to find all posts in that au

- #141omegaverse~ by @/vgilantee (idk how to make links for tags unless it’s already made into a link, so go search that tag on char’s blog 😅 and i rec anything and everything from that au)

- price’s girl is the 141’s barracks bunny by @/vgilantee

- mafia au series by @groguspicklejar (y’all KNOW i had to include this. really anything from kelsi ofc)

- from specgru with love by @/charliemwrites (the angst in this is so fucking good. the 141 yearning for reader while readers moved on and leaving them in the dust? AND the jon bernthal face claim for the hot as fuck captain on readers new team? i’m fainting.)

- mister(s) steal your girl by @/charliemwrites (i need to catch up on this one but i’m rec’ing anyway bc i know it’s pure gold)

- tf141 kinks by @/pfhwrittes

- tf141 kinks pt2 by @/pfhwrittes

- tag, you’re it by @/sprout-fics (what a classic. i’m 99% sure i reblogged them a lot earlier in my fandom days but regardless, i’m going through and reblogging everything in this list anyways.)

- omegaverse au by @/sprout-fics (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing regardless bc i know it’s so fucking good.)

- afterburn by @/sprout-fics (what a great aftercare fic, so soft and sweet and heated all at the same time.)

- poly 141 headcanons by @/sprout-fics

- netflix and chill by @luvit (this series was sooo 😵‍💫 the variation of kinks between each one was so hot. also it’s totally obvious that i rec everything from them)

- that man is a dog! by @/luvit (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing this regardless bc i know it’s gold)

- contractor au by @/kyletogaz

- vampire 141 making you cum with a bite by @/kyletogaz

- you, gaz, and price by @kyletogaz

- squirting by @chamomiletealeaf (woof woof this is so fucking hot. i rec anything from them)

- 141 sharing you by @/captainfern

- backshots by @/captainfern

- free use by @ohbo-ohno (oh lord,, that is just the dream. where do i sign up? also i rec anything from bo)

- orgy by @/ohbo-ohno

- fucking machine by @/ohbo-ohno (i know this one isn’t including a reader but its sooo 😵‍💫 that i had to include it)

- body electric by @/yeyinde (THEE call of duty gangbang fic.)

- virgin reader x 141 i / ii / iii by @/yeyinde

- spoils by @/syoddeye

- pack cuddles by @mockerycrow (so so so cute. i’ve reread this countless times. i rec anything from crow)

- spread open by @iciclesses (oh lord!!!!! oh my god 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i rec anything from them ofc)

- they decide you’re theirs by @fulltacs (bowing down to you and your genius brain. thank you for feeding us and for doing the lords work ykwim 👀. i rec everything from them)

- poly 141 therapist sharing au by @kyletogaz (holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck)

- heavy hitters; a wrestling au by @dwarvenales (love love LOVE. i rec anything from kai ofc)

- scp au by @ghouljams (ok i know it’s not technically described as poly 141 per se but it’s a 141 au and i couldn’t resist adding it)

- binders and boyfriends by @pfhwrittes (again i know it’s not poly 141 per se but it includes the 141 as a whole and i couldn’t resist adding this to the rec list)

- tradie 141 au by @/pfhwrittes (again, couldn’t resist)

[in-case-of-grace]

Alternatives to "GM" in TTRPGs

Spurred by a recent post from @imsobadatnicknames2 that found its way into my feed by way of @anim-ttrpgs' addition (this post got too big to be a reblog sorry), I've been thinking about the influence of the terms we use for the host-and-narrator role in a TTRPG. Each tends to carry some connotations and implications as to what the role might entail, and these can influence how people play your game.

At best, this may enforce your intended roles for the game, alongside its themeing. At worst, your chosen term for this role may create false assumptions, and lead to people approaching it in a way that makes it unfun for them.

There's also an aesthetic component to consider! Having a term that matches your genre and vibe can go a long way! It's gonna be a balancing act— does the term change how people interact with your game enough to become a problem? Does it match and enforce your themes and aesthetics strongly enough to balance some of those problems out?

Below, I'm gonna go over a couple common (and uncommon) terms for this role and what I think their connotations, implications, and best usecases are here. These are gonna be beholden to my own biases, of course— and you may see different connotations entirely! Maybe it'll help folk think more about what terms they want to use!

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"Game Master" is very gamey. It implies that this person is setting up a bunch of specific, pre-made mechanical challenges-- like an obstacle course. I will admit that it does have the weakest connotations of all the commonly used terms I'm aware of, though-- simply by virtue of it having become so commonplace across all sorts of games.

I think it works best with chunkier, mechanically heavy games. Due to it having a weak connotation, though, it won't hurt your game if you use it elsewhere, it is kind of the baseline these days, after all.

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"Storyteller" implies that this person is sitting everyone down and telling them a story. Like putting on a play. There's an implication that they are going to be controlling most of the narrative here-- and that the players don't have as much say in it.

It's also technically incorrect, given that...well, the players are storytellers too! The point of these games is to tell a story together!

It can work for more narratively focused games, it has some lighthearted, cutesy vibes that can be a good fit for some-- but its connotations can lead to this person taking more control than you may actually intend for them to have in your game.

It's one that I don't think accurately fits a lot of games, and is chosen more for its aesthetics and vibes. (Something I have done before, and with time it bothers me more and more.)

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"Narrator" is the opposite of Storyteller-- it implies, to me, that this person has less say in the narrative than the players. They are there to impartially narrate and describe the world's reactions to what the players do, little else. A passive observer, almost.

I think it can still work fine for plenty of games-- especially those with contemporary settings. It's the sort that, to me, feels more suited to sandboxy games that are more focused on providing a bunch of simulationist tools for players to poke and prod the world with, rather than on telling a structured narrative.

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"Dungeon Master" is particularly genre-limited. It carries a lot of the same implications that GM does, but for fantasy games in specific-- especially dungeon crawlers.

Only making a special note of it here since it is tied to A Particularly Big Game in the community. Its connotations are much stronger than GM's, though, and it feels out of place in rules light games— unless they are specifically set in a dungeon.

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"Director" is one that can have drastically different implications depending on the background of who reads it. If they're a film buff, they'll think it implies that this role has final say on everything, and retains high levels of control that the players do not share. Very much akin to Storyteller.

However if the person reading it is more familiar with video games, and the Left 4 Dead series (and games inspired it) in particular, they'll see the Director role as something more reactive and behind the scenes. They may think this person is responsible for improvising and presenting the players with challenges and scenarios that match their current situation— be it narrative or mechanical.

There may have been a specific plan made ahead of time, but it is filled with a ton of contingencies, with an expectation that improv will fill in the gaps.

Though like Narrator, the L4D type of Director implies a somewhat passive, observer role that isn't meant to have a say in the story.

I think most people will see it with film connotations rather than the Left 4 Dead connotations— which is unfortunate, considering that the L4D type of Director is actually really well suited for certain types of TTRPGs. I think "Game Director" vs "Director" may help alleviate this somewhat, but I'm unsure how effective it'd be as I don't think most people share the L4D brain association I do.

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"Referee," "Arbiter," "Judge," and "Moderator" all share the same problem as Narrator-- but 10 times worse. These are all heavily laced in passive connotations-- and imply that this person is there simply to determine the outcomes of mechanical situations, but has no say in the narrative.

They can work nicely with like, sports or competition TTRPGs in specific, though.

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"Master of Ceremonies (MC)" implies that you're not playing a game, but that this person is about to lead you through an awards ceremony, drop some bars, or host some stuffy 500 year old regal event called "the Ceremony of the Ballet Fish" or something.

I don't think this one fits in TTRPGs like, at all, frankly. I just cannot imagine someone in that role being referred to as an "MC" unless we're talking about a game that is specifically about a ceremony, or rap.

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"Caretaker" implies that this person's role is to maintain and care for the world, game, and story. It implies that they not only facilitate the garden you're all playing in, but that they also trim or rearrange it to suit everyone's needs-- including their own.

I actually think this one is very nice. It doesn't imply that they're an absolute monarch, nor does it imply that they're a passive observer. It also manages to encapsulate the amount of background work the role can often require, without taking away their say in the resulting narrative.

A Caretaker has agency in the story, while remaining cognizant and receptive of the players' agency, too.

This works really well for games focused on telling collaborative narratives, but I think it can also work fairly well for mechanically focused ones as well. It feels pretty versatile!

This one is new to me and I honestly might start using it for my games going forward, unless someone knows of a common connotation I'm unaware of!

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"Facilitator," and "Host" both imply that this person provides the space and tools for the game, and nothing else. They handed the players the keys, told them to lock up after they're done, and left to go do sick flips in their motorcycle or something nerds do.

To me, the term by itself implies this person has very little to do with the actual game. I don't think these work any better than, say, GM, without a thematic justification.

Host could be amazing for some sort of bio-horror game— or for a game show RPG. Facilitator feels DoA to me. Both, however, could work if your game really is set up so the Facilitator/Host just provides tools to the players and does little else.

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"Guide" implies that this person takes on a fairly hand-holdy role in leading the players through the game and its narrative. Maybe not quite railroading, but they definitely do a lot to keep the players on track.

This one, I feel, carries some "teacher" connotation— as if this person is responsible for teaching the players the rules. It's on them, not the players, to read and remember the actual rules.

I feel that this connotation largely ruins what good this term could do.

But, it can still work well in certain cases. If your game really is meant to have a focused, linear narrative, it can work quite well. The same goes for specific genres or settings— such as anything dealing with camping, national parks, or tourism.

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"Overseer" taken at face value, actually could be pretty apt. They'd be someone who oversees the game and does what they can to keep things fun.

Unfortunately, due to the word's use in workplace environments and dystopian fiction— it has some pretty heavy cultural connotations that turn it more into a dictator role. They have complete and total control over the game and its narrative, even if the players disagree with their choices.

I think it can work well for games that deal with dystopian or corporate settings, where this person might actually be meant to have more control, or simply for the flavor— but not a ton else.

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"Producer" is vaguely similar to the film-style Director-- in the sense that it comes from film. However, unlike the Director, a Producer coordinates and works together with the players to tell their story. It's a more collaborative role that shares power and agency more evenly with the table.

This also somewhat accurately implies the amount of work that goes into the role, much like the Caretaker.

However, given its origins, it doesn't imply they're playing a game— I can't entirely explain why, but it feels similar to MC in this sense. The term is very heavily entrenched in its origins, and carries strong film connotations— even though, yes, video games have producers too!

I think it'd be rad to see games using this, though. In time the strong film connotations may shake off! Like Caretaker, I think it's fairly versatile and could be well suited for a wide variety of games.

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Niche terms such as keeper, warden, overlord, president, deity, and fixer are always worth considering, too! These tend to just be one-offs used in a specific TTRPG, that suit their setting and tone in particular.

Now, each can and does have its own implications and connotations to consider— weigh those against how well it serves the vibes of your game before you lock in!

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"Host and Narrator (HAN)" implies the same things that these terms do separately-- but combines them to offset (some of) their downsides. This implies that they host and provide the tools needed for playing the game, yes, but also that they actually stick around to narrate and respond to the players.

When Narrator is combined with Host here, I think this also transforms into something a little closer to the Caretaker— as the Host and Narrator both, they have more of an active role in maintaining the space (and story) they've provided.

It feels similarly versatile, as a result. I just made this one up and don't know if there are any games that use it already, it could have legs— it is a little dry and flavorless, though. This may give it a potential leg up on Caretaker, which does have a lil bit of a lighthearted vibe that may feel off in, say, a horror game.

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Honorable mentions - Scenestress - Conductor - SOUP (Story Overseer United (with) Players) - Their Majesty - MOMMY (Mediator Over Making Mythic Yarns) - JOE (Joe Ojoe Ejoe) - Representative (REP) - Doormat

---

Again, these are all just according to the implications and connotations I find in these terms— you may find others! What you pick is going to depend on you, your game, and your intended audience!

I don't know if perfect terms exist, and it's wise to explain whichever you use within your rulebooks— just to ensure that someone else's biases and assumptions don't lead to them misinterpreting things.

Is there anything I missed? Any terms you like to use? Do you have a vastly different set of assumptions for one of these terms? Please share!

[abimee]

hi i can no longer act coy or hope that a job will come in time so im coming to everyone really embarassingly with my issues

in June I attempted to get fired from/left my job after having a really embarassing public meltdown due to having Rapid-Cycling Mixed Bipolar and the unending stress of that job of 3+ years. I've been struggling to get a job afterwards due to being in CA without a vehicle, and i'm currently working on an overdue commission so could not open up any more.

Soon after, my mother's car imploded, and a series of incidents related to a used engine and taking out a loan with a friend has left her both needing to pay back the loan and still needing to get a new car, putting her thousands in the hole.

my mother has allowed me to not worry about paying rent while unemployed, but now the person living with us is moving out, so it will be on me and my mother to pay rent, upping mine from $300 to $500 a month. I am currently job hunting with good prospects, but I am still in need of some assistance.

I DO NOT WANT TO ASK FOR DONATIONS WITHOUT GIVING SOMETHING IN RETURN, I have a very bad time taking help from people without doing something in return because I do not want people to feel like they Have to give me money or help me, I want to Offer something in return for that money, even in a situation like this, because I want everyone to come out on the other end feeling fulfilled, so I'm offering some (slow) cheaper commissions I can work on in between the bigger comm I owe.

My kofi is always open for donation sketches ---- you can donate the minimum amount (or whatever you prefer) and get a drawing like this of anything as long as you put it into the donation message!

i cant currently take on big commissions as I have one i owe and the commissioner is a very generous person who has been waiting a good few months for me to finish one during this hectic time, but if you're interested in getting something a little higher quality for a donation, a $30-50 USD donation can get you a ''simple commission'' styled drawing --- that is, you give me a prompt and character refferences (ocs or fanart, up to 2-3 characters depending on complexity), and I draw them like below (color complexity depends on price, the higher the amount the more the color).

You wont have access to revisions to make this as fast as possible, so i HIGHLY reccomend only getting fanart comms of these and to make sure you really like my style!!

this is one of those situations where I DEEPLY reccomend people do not donate unless they want something in return, if you dont wanna ask for a drawing or anything i reccomend going to people in more dire circumstances and helping them out with your donation!!!

but if you want to help me help my mother get out of a bad financial situation and get a little drawing in return, you can do a small dono and att a message of what you want doodled, or you can email me at cyrdrawings@gmail.com your $30-50 donation reciept and what you would like me to draw, and ill try to get them as soon as I can

thank you so much for checking this post out and keep it real old school!!!!! i promise once this is over and i get a job we'll be back to your regularly scheduled art posting

[EDIT: PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG THIS VERSION. I AM NO LONGER TAKING THE SIMPLE COMMISSION TIER. REBLOG THE ADDITION TO THIS POST GIVING AN UPDATE]

[befemininenow]

Admit it. You want her outfit more than anything. Still afraid of being called a sissy? Honey, sissy is just a mindset. But deep inside, your identity is female. There is nothing sissy about wanting to wear such a tightfit bodysuit, a lovely skirt, shiny pantyhose, and some tall high heels. That is an outfit women generally wear. Women like you, whether cis or trans. Does it feel emasculating? Perhaps. But is it also affirming for your feminine side? Absolutely! I bet your nice little egg has hatched at this point. (I feel like a mistress just writing this lol

There's a voting poll underneath. If want to skip the long description, scroll below and vote. Good luck!

Now that I feel better after the shitshow last night, it's time to leave politics behind and move on to another voting topic: outfits! This is not only such an affirming outfit for the fall season, but it's also one of the most feminine and modern outfits ever. It just screams femme! I even have a near identical outfit because I love it so much!

That got me thinking: there's just so many outfits that feel "emasculating", but few that affirm the trans woman in you. You know the ones: schoolgirl uniforms, maid costumes, ballet outfits, office secretary, housewife attire, and even waitress outfits. While not all the mentioned outfits are bad (I have a guilty pleasure for Hooters outfits), I feel that some of them are too flashy and have too plain in the feminization world.

We need something more affirming, more unique, more aesthetically pleasing, more... permanent. More in line with your transfeminine identity as opposed to fulfilling a kink. IMO, I feel that this outfit is one those that accomplish that. Not too flashy, but not too plain. Balanced enough to make you feel affirmed while looking like another girl in the outside world. IMO, one can never go back to wearing boy's clothes once you try something sexy like this!

I'm dying of trying something new for this blog: For this month only, I want to make at least 4+ feminizing captions per week with women wearing this outfit. The main purpose is to convince you to go deeper into feminization by trying this outfit out. Once you try it out and love how it feels so femme instead of humiliating, you will have the rite of passage into becoming a trans woman. You can still wear the other outfits if it's your thing, but your feminine wardrobe will expand further after this moment. If the first option wins, I will fulfill that new plan of 4+ captions in addition to my regular caption posts and reblogs. If the second option wins, I will just continue making my regular posts when I have the chance or need to upload (Hint: I'm not really uploading as much).

Now, let's get to the polls, the feminization polls, that is!

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Bruce Wayne would include:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: None

A/N: I have a lot of thoughts about Bruce as you can see, he's a complicated guy. I wouldn't say he's super romantic like the other guys I've written, he's like a slow burn kinda guy. I can see why people like him but I'm still on the fence if I'd date him fr fr.

I won't sugarcoat it, it'll be a rocky road dating Bruce but it's not impossible. Unlike Clark, Batman is who he is and Bruce Wayne is what he can do. The mission always comes first, so him taking time to dedicate to you is special. It's a lot protecting the city and being the backbone of the league.

He is consistently booked and busy, nobody can do what he does so he always has do things himself. It can be difficult for him to ask for help or just allow people to do things for him. In and out of the costume he's got a lot of walls up. He may seem cold on the surface but he feels very deeply. The death of his parents really stunted him emotionally so it will take some time to soften him up.

In terms of a partner ideally he'd need someone with some softness to file down those hard edges he has. Even if his partner isn't soft he provide that comfort and warmth in his own way over time. He's spent most of his life keeping people at an telephone pole's length away(except Alfred of course).

Physical touch with a partner will feel foreign, all the batfam like to hug him and stuff but their the ones intiating most of the time. That will also be the case for you, you'd have to hug him first if you want to touch him. The longer your relationship goes you'll be able to tell when he wants to be hugged or kissed just from the lingering looks he gives you. The touches he does give you are long gentle caresses, he loves stroking your cheek with his thumb. Sometimes after a difficult patrol he'll just hold you in his arms and press his forehead against yours.

Staring!! He'll always be staring at you whether you're looking or not. He's kind of like a cat, blinking at you real slow is his way of blowing kisses. The way he looks at you is exclusive to you only! It's so much softer and adoring than his usual scary pokerface staring. In a JL meeting, before everyone knows you're dating they might think he can't stand you. Inside though he's like 💓💗💖💘💝.

You can translate his grumbles and sounds. Bruce isn't the most talkative guy and he's in his head alot. So when he's busy or distracted and you ask him a question you understand his tone. Barry: "So is Bruce gonna be at the Flash parade tomorrow?" Bruce: "Hmm..." You: "Yeah he'll be there!".

The rest of the batfamily notice the effect you've had on him, you managed to crack the coldness he's built over the years. In addition to already liking you they're grateful for you being there for him. They'll even tease you both when you have dinner together. Fake vomitting when Bruce kisses you on the cheek, calling you Mom/Dad/Parent.

If you are another superhero(yes he does have a contingency plan for you) You may butt heads from time to time he may come off as underestimating you but he just wants to protect you by getting ahead of the problem. When he knows your abilities/skills maybe exactly what he needs in a certain situation, he’ll hit you up. He does his best not to hover when you go on solo missions, he will check in over comms at the most random times though. When you do go on missions together, you never notice but he'll stay very close to you.

You've got maximum scary dog privilege when you two go out together but when he goes out as Bruce Wayne he's still gotta put up that raunchy facade. He won't get too frisky with you but he will take the opportunity to flirt a little. He'll whisper little compliments and pick-up lines in your ear when you slow dance together.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[bloatedandalone04]

Good as Gold

➪the one where leon fell in love with you from the second he saw you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, indications of smut, leon pining over you, jealous leon, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood, blood, descriptions of blood + injuries, you all really need to stop with those foul leon fics, i am so serious, he deserves some fluff once in a while, damn

Word Count: 5.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The first time Leon saw you, he knew he wanted to do everything in his power to protect you, despite you being a very good agent and more than capable of protecting yourself. 

Still, he knew he wanted to be around you all the time, and he was quite certain he was in love with you after the first conversation the two of you had. 

When you and he were assigned as partners for this mission where he and you had to act like a couple, he was borderline thrilled, then he realized he would be spending most of his time looking out for you instead of actually getting the information he needed from the doctors. 

It was an attempt at stopping a virus before it got out, and Leon had to go full camouflage for this one. He cut his hair short and hated it immediately, but the look you gave him once you saw it for the first time had him appreciating it a bit more. 

He had to wear a suit that night, and even he thought he looked quite nice, but nowhere near as good as you looked. You were given a dark blue dress with a slit in the side, and he was obsessed with it from the minute he saw it. 

Then you hooked your arm in his and stayed glued to his side the whole night as you both listened to the drunk doctors spill all the information on the virus, and the recorder in Leon’s suit pocket caught everything. 

When you two got back to the hotel you were staying at for just one night, you fell asleep with your head on Leon’s chest, still wearing that sinful dress he wanted to take off you. Neither of you planned for that mission very well, even forgetting to pack extra clothes, so you both had to sleep in your formal attire. Leon took off his jacket and put it over you while you slept, and he spent his night trying to figure out how to face you the next morning after finding out how well your body fit against his own. 

He didn’t mean to, really. They had given him a room with only one bed, and neither of you wanted the other to sleep on the uncomfortable couch in the corner. 

You talked about everything and nothing at all, and Leon was so close to saying those three words to you, but decided it wasn’t the best time. 

Oh, how he regretted that one. 

Another mission you were given together had the addition of Chris, and that annoyed Leon since he knew the Redfield brother had a thing for you, too. It was annoying because Leon didn’t just have a thing for you, he was in love with you, and had been for a year at that point. 

The mission was going well, but Leon had to continuously watch Chris flirt with you, and you did nothing about it since you had no idea about the way Leon felt about you. He was extremely good at hiding it, though he did try to show it in subtle ways; like keeping you behind him at all times whenever you were near something potentially dangerous, or how he loosely laced his fingers with yours under the table as you and he debriefed from missions, how he always let you come to him whenever the weight of the job felt like it was too much for you to handle. 

He did all of it for you, and he wished he was man enough to do more.

Because now he watched as Chris brushed your messy hair behind your ear as you caught your breath from the ten minute sprint you all just did to escape the infected villagers in the tunnels. 

Leon reloaded his gun as he took off in a random direction, muttering something to you about staying with Chris as he went to search for more ammo and weapons. 

Maybe it was petty, and maybe he was acting like a child, but he couldn’t help it.

He regretted it, though, because as soon as he got back to you and Chris, the villagers had found their way to the three of you, and they weren’t letting up this time. 

Leon’s ears were ringing as three different guns fired in opposite directions, and when he turned to check on you after hearing your quiet cry, his beloved gun almost slipped from his fingers as he saw the pitchfork that was embedded in your abdomen. 

He watched as Chris shot both the pitchfork wielder as well as another villager that was coming for you in your weakened state. He watched as you pulled the pitchfork out of you and feebly tossed it aside, and he watched as your body betrayed itself and began to sink to the ground. 

Before you could reach it, Leon finally snapped out of it and nearly got impaled himself as he ran over to you. He heard the sound of Chris shooting the man who tried giving Leon the same fate as you as he caught your body and lowered both himself and you to the ground.  

Blood formed on three places on your shirt, and Leon pressed his whole hand and forearm down against them without thinking twice. Your cry of pain had him wincing as he looked over at your pale face, and he felt his heart rate spike as he saw the blood that began pooling in your mouth. “Hey,” he said quietly as Chris single-handedly took out the last four guys before he was crouching on the other side of you. “Keep your eyes open for me.”

You give him a pointed look, even in your current state, as you mumble, “I’m trying to,”

“I know,” he muttered as he looked over at Chris, panic poorly hidden on both their faces. “What do we do? We can’t leave her. We need to get her out of here, she needs-”

“I know, Leon,” Chris cut him off, and Leon was sure the brunet was surprised at how quickly Leon had lost all control the second you had gotten hurt. “You need to get her out of here. Find the surface as fast as you can, and don’t look back for anything.” 

Chris tried to take control of the situation as best as he could, but Leon was barely listening as he looked back down at you and saw your emotionless face staring back up at him. A ghost of a smile was on your lips, but he knew you were fading quickly. “Hey,” he called again, much stricter this time, but you just blinked slowly. “Stay with me, okay? You’re not dying today. Not here.”

“Leon,” Chris said, reaching over and grabbing his shoulder. “You need to focus. Get her out of here, I’ll take care of the rest, you both need to get out of here. Now.”

Leon barely nodded as he picked you up and wrapped his arms around your middle and under your thighs. You cry again, and Leon doesn’t look back at Chris as he takes off in the direction you all came from. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, refusing to stop as he ran through the tunnel and towards where he hoped the surface was. 

He knew he was abandoning the mission, even though he was advised to never do that. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t just leave you to die, he wouldn’t. 

“Leon,” you whispered, and it had him moving even faster. “It’s okay, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

He knew you were going into shock, and he refused to see you reach the stage that came after that as he kicked open the gate and fled from the tunnels. “You’re okay,” he rasped as he ran through the small town and towards the Jeep. “You’re okay, baby.”

The name slipped out before he could stop it, but he didn’t care at this point, and neither did you as you smiled up at him. “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me that,” you confessed in a tired voice as he finally reached the car. “You’re my favorite person, Leon. I..”

Leon looked down and saw that your eyes were closed now, and he cursed as he opened the back door and gently set you down on the seats. He climbed in with you as he grabbed Chris’ jacket and wrapped it around your wound. He tied it pretty harshly around your middle in hopes to stop the blood, then felt around on your neck for your pulse. 

When he found it, he felt how faint it was and it sent him into a further panic as he got out of the back and into the driver’s seat. He knew Chris would be fine, and he also knew he couldn’t wait for him as he started the car and drove away from the town.

He’d have to send someone back for Chris, and then take the hit for being the one to abandon the mission. 

But if it meant saving you, he didn’t give a fuck about the repercussions. 

Leon got you back to salvation, but wasn’t allowed to be in the room with you as the nurses and doctors ripped your shirt after tearing off Chris’ jacket to see how bad your wound was. 

He was left in the hall as they worked on you, his arms and shirt covered in your blood. The sight was one he never wanted to see, and he knew he should go wash it off, but instead he stayed right there. 

This wasn’t a typical hospital, there were no waiting rooms, so he leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hall to your room, and stayed there for God knows how long until a doctor finally came out and told him hours later that they had managed to stop the internal bleeding. But you had lost a lot of blood, and he was wearing most of it. 

He still wasn’t allowed to see you as they moved on to test you for any viruses, and he knew how long that could take. So he caved and went home to shower and wash off the red that covered him. 

Then he was right back in that hall after he changed into clean clothing. It was nearing a full twenty four hours since he carried you out of those tunnels, and he was beginning to go crazy. 

He needed to see you, needed to see for himself that you were okay and alive. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you when he was just a few feet away. 

The night nurse went in to check on you and accidentally woke Leon up from his spot on the floor. His back was against the wall as he looked up at her, and she gave him a wary smile. “I’m sorry, Agent Kennedy. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized and he just waved her off. “I have to go report on her status, but she’s fine for now and will most likely recover within a few days.”

Leon perked up at that. “She’s going to be okay?”

“Yes,” the nurse nodded, then saw the look on his face and added, “That doesn’t mean you can sneak in there while I’m gone. I mean it, Kennedy. Her test results haven’t come back yet, she could be contagious with something.”

Leon nodded and watched as the nurse walked off before he promptly stood up and quietly opened the door to your room. He knew you didn’t have any viruses, he was with you the whole time, and he would’ve gotten it, too. 

After slowly closing the door behind him, Leon turned to look at you. His heart fell at the blank expression on your face, and the way your eyes didn’t move behind your closed eyelids. 

He had only ever seen you asleep a couple of times, one being back in that hotel room, another being when you had fallen asleep in the backseat of the Jeep as you waited for Chris to arrive so you could go on the mission, and both times you appeared to be dreaming. Your eyes never stopped moving behind closed lids, so to see them be so still now made him feel anxious. 

Without being able to stop himself, he walked over to you and stood next to the bed, his left hand finding yours on top of the covers. “Hey,” he mumbled as he extended his leg and pulled a nearby chair towards the bed without ever taking his eyes off you. His fingers tangle with yours as he sits down, and your warm skin against his had his heart calming down just a bit.

He looked over at your pretty face, the dirt and grime you’d collected from the tunnels now gone, and what replaced it was a few cuts here and there. Leon still thought you looked beautiful, and he wished he had told you that before this. He should’ve done so many things before this, but he was a coward when it came to you. 

But he wouldn’t be after you wake up. 

He would tell you that he loved you and how he needed you in his life. Because, after all, 

“You’re my favorite person, too,”

The same nurse from last night had found him with his head next to your hip on the bed, his hand still locked with yours, and she softly scolded him as she escorted him back out of the room and told him that he’d get to see you in a few days from now, and that you’d be awake by then.

That, along with the physical proof that you were okay, was what he needed to be able to talk through how the rest of the mission went with Chris. The eldest Redfield had successfully gathered up all the needed samples for the virus, as well as took out a large portion of those already infected with it before he caught a ride out of there and came to check on you.

Leon couldn’t even be annoyed at that since it was because of Chris that he was able to get you the help you needed in time. 

With no further updates on both you and the case, Leon was left to return back to his sad and empty apartment with the files Chris gave him to read over. It helped keep his mind off you for a bit, and when he was about halfway through the paperwork, he stopped to answer the door when someone knocked on it.

He opened it slowly, then swung it open when he saw that it was you who was on the other side. You look a lot better than you did the last time he saw you, and your small smile had his knees feeling a bit weak as you gazed at one another. “Hi,” you say quietly and Leon had to blink a few times to make sure this was real, and that he hadn’t fallen asleep at the table with the case files. 

“Hi,” he said back once he confirmed that he was awake and aware, and your smile grew a bit. 

“I heard you were the one who risked the whole mission to get me help after I stupidly got stabbed with a pitchfork,” you murmur and Leon wanted to take you into his arms at how you were still able to find humor in the very situation that had him nearly losing his mind. “Then I laughed and said that Leon Kennedy wouldn’t risk a mission for anything and how nothing else was that important to him. And then I realized that wasn’t true after I remembered how you carried me out of those tunnels and stayed with me until you couldn’t anymore.”

Leon stayed silent as he confirmed your words with a single nod. 

“Why did you do that?” You ask as you wrap one arm around your middle, and Leon wanted to pull you into his apartment and sit you down so you weren’t straining your wounds. “Why would you risk that?”

“You should sit down, Y/n,” he suggested instead of answering your question, but you just shook your head. 

“Why did you risk it?” You ask again. “You saved my life, but I’m not worth that risk, Leon.”

Leon shook his head as he stepped towards you. “You are worth that risk,” he couldn’t keep the way your words offended him out of his voice, and you picked up on it as you stayed still and asked, 

“Why did you risk it?” 

He knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than an honest answer, and he wasn’t going to go back on his words and lie to you about how he felt. Seeing you with your eyes closed and your body covered in blood almost made him lose his mind, and he couldn’t continue to live without telling you just how much you meant to him. 

“Because I love you,” he answered as if it was the most simplest question he’d ever been asked, and he supposed it was. “And I couldn’t live with myself if you had died on that mission and I didn’t.”

Your mouth closes as you take in his words, and when you begin to blink away tears, he continues,

“I know you can protect yourself, and I know you’re not defenseless, but I still want to be the one who protects you,” he took your hand in his, similar to the way he did back in your hospital room. “I want to be the one to take the hit for you, or the stab for you, or the bullet. You really think you’re not worth the risk? I’d risk it all for you all over again in a heartbeat. Without a second thought, I’d do it again.”

You bite down on your lip as you lace your fingers with his and allow him to pull you into his apartment. He guides you over to the couch, but before he could gesture for you to sit, you push him down instead and drape your thighs over his. “You love me?” You asked in a quiet tone as you hesitantly placed your hand on his shoulder. 

Leon nodded, giving you full control over everything right now and keeping his hands at his sides.

You force away a smile as you shyly ask, “Will you say it again?” and Leon wasn’t used to having you act so nervous and hesitant around him. Usually you were so confident and collected, but right now you were allowing yourself to be vulnerable with him, and he loved you even more for it. 

He didn’t think he could deny you anything right now, so he nodded in response to your question. “I love you,” he said again, then added with a barely-there smirk, “Baby.”

You give him a pretty smile and lean in to press your forehead against his as you guide his arms up to gently wrap around your middle. “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me that,” you repeated your words from earlier in the week, and Leon hummed as the tip of his nose hit yours. 

“I know,” he rasped. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the second I saw you.”

“Leon,” you murmur and gently run your fingers through his short hair. It still hadn’t fully grown out yet, but he didn’t mind it as you softly tug on the strands. “It doesn’t matter how long it took you. I would’ve waited forever, I think. Because I love you, too.”

He let out a sigh of relief he had no idea he was holding as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “I nearly lost it when I carried you out of those tunnels,” he confessed. “I thought I’d lost my chance to tell you how I felt, and how beautiful I think you are.”

The words sounded foreign to him as he didn’t have a whole lot of time to put towards a relationship due to his job, but that didn’t make them any less true. 

And you knew this as you caressed the side of his face and traced his various freckles with your thumb. “Maybe soon you’ll be able to show me how you feel, too,” you teased and pressed yourself closer to him. “Thank you for saving my life, Leon. And thank you for finally telling me the words I’ve been wanting to hear from you for over a year now. I never let myself believe that you could ever feel that way about me.”

Leon was careful with your stomach area as he ran his hands up your back and gently gripped the back of your neck. He kissed you deeply and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet moan you released, and he knew it would be the best kiss he’s ever shared with someone. Because it was you.  “Believe it,” he mumbled. “Because I’ve been yours since day one.”

[eloquentlytired]

— when the time comes, part two

pairing: logan howlett x gn! reader

part one is here

drabble,fluff, wade is briefly here <3 and blind al (slay)

summary: perhaps logan’s wish to find you in a different timeline comes true. and this time he doesn't only find you, but wade as well.

author’s note: I was wondering if I should add laura somehow to this scene but I think it came out perfect like this! what if I make a part three for the dinner/table scene where they're all together with wade though enjoy babies !!! this low-key made me cryyy... as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

“this is logan.”

you turn around as wade’s voice echoes within the small apartment. you'd been roommates for a while since you both were struggling with rent and this sort of arrangement had been quite beneficial. your friendship with wade had flourished in no time and you had somehow managed to become less anxious with his help, always having silly laughs and finding nice things even in the toughest situations.

you begin moving away from the kitchen area as you hear a dialogue going on — wade, al and a voice that didn't remind you of anything.

“finally, sweet cheeks. thought i’d have to start a new pissing ritual for you to show up!” wade chimes while placing a hand on his hip and looking straight at you. Whatever follows after, it never reaches your ears.

you stand there frozen, spatula falling from your hands, as your gaze stares at the man behind wade. you don’t know him but at the same time you do. that messy hair, that beard and those eyes. whoever that man was, he must have felt what you were feeling as he also stills by wade’s side. the silence that follows is long and awkward for the others but not for you and this man; at least that's what wade points out and ruins the moment. “right. if you're done eye fucking each other — and by the way sweet cheeks I thought we had something special — but yes if you're done..” wade walks towards you and gently pushes the goofiest dog ever in your hands. what the fuck?

“—I have a bath to run. gotta get those pores unclogged before my big party.” you tried to protest but wade was already gone and al was leaving as well, muttering something about holy sugar time.

the pair of eyes across you never leave yours. you stare back at the strange man named logan; at least that's what you'd heard wade call him. “I...nice to meet you.” you finally whisper while slowly setting the dog down, your hand instinctively reaching towards logan. the taller man leans forward as well and holds your hand, shaking it in the process. “i’m logan. thanks for having me.” he murmurs and for a man his size, you didn't anticipate such simplicity and gentleness in his voice. your eyes fill with unshed tears and for an unknown reason logan reaches out to wipe them away before they stain your cheeks. you shudder at the strange familiarity of those warm digits upon your skin. logan swallows thickly. “do I know you?” he asks and you look at him with wide, sparkly eyes. you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. “it feels like it, doesn't it?” was the only reply you could offer him as he nods.

a moment passes. then two. logan drops his hand from your face, realizing the boundaries he's crossing. not that you really minded his touch. you quickly compose yourself and wipe the remaining wetness from your face before shifting your gaze in between logan and the kitchen.

“are- are you hungry,logan?” you suddenly ask, your voice kind of shaky.

the surprise on his face lasts briefly before a small but genuine smile settles on his features. “yeah. starving actually.” you chuckle. he does too.

as logan follows you into the kitchen, and despite wade’s awful singing coming from the bathroom, you think about the cheapest bed you can buy tomorrow for the third addition in your family.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Rosaura Revueltas (Salt of the Earth)—She was a Mexican actress who is best known for starring in salt of the earth, an amazing pro-labor movie made by blacklisted filmmakers. She also starred in the Mexican remake of madchen in uniform, one of the first representations of lesbian romance onscreen. She was really dedicated to making progressive films and was also such an incredible actress and artist I truly believe more people should know about her and her work.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Cyd Charisse:

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

No additional propaganda was submitted for Rosaura Revueltas. Please send me some.

[winterrrnight]

“the blue in your eyes” — new beginnings chapter IV

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe cameron x mom!reader

WARNINGS: n/a

EDITH SPEAKS: I am so so sorry for the break I took with updating this! I'll try to be much more regular now <3 <3 please reblog if you enjoyed this and share all your thoughts 💞😊 I am sorry if this feels super boring right now but honestly it wasn't ever really meant to really interesting either 😭😭

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It’s been over one week since Sage joined Rafe’s class. You've noticed the big increase in her happiness; she comes home with a big grin gracing her face, and she proudly shows you her art pieces and small arithmetic and alphabet assignments she did with a huge good star adorning almost each one of them.

“Mamma look, Fafe gave me a star!” She would tell you, jumping around as you look at the star, along with the ‘very well done!’ written next to it.

You’re on your way to pick her up from the school, after finishing up with your own work. As you walk inside the school, you notice Rafe, Sage, and the rest of her classmates sitting in the grass in a circle. You can hear the little children giggling and Rafe laughing along with them. You can't help but smile at the sight; watching Rafe being extremely sweet with the children, always praising them when they do the little things right.

“Okay Sage it’s your turn,” Rafe smiles, handing her a football. “What do you love most?”

“My mamma!” She says, without hesitating even for a second. You softly gasp as you hear those words come from her mouth, deciding to stay here just for a moment more to see how this conversation unfolds.

“And what do you love about her?” Rafe asks her next, the smile still tugging on the corners of Rafe’s lips.

“She is pretty,” Sage sighs. “and she makes me happy.”

Hearing Sage not only call you pretty, but say you make her happy has tears pricking your eyes quickly. A soft smile takes over your face as you watch how Sage glows talking about you, her sweet grin never leaving her, and her little pigtails bouncing when she nods her head. These are the moments when you realize how lucky you are to have Sage in your life.

In the next few minutes Rafe wraps up the class and more parents appear to pick up their children. As Sage spots you, she comes rushing you and clutches onto your legs, hugging them tightly.

“Hey baby,” you smile, bending down to her level as you press a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She looks up at you and nods her head, a grin on her face. Although you can see she’s feeling tired, her eyes droopy and yawns escaping her lips. “Good day,” she smiles at you, and hugs you. You hug her back, his head nuzzling in your neck. You laugh as you pick her up, her resting on your hip. Just as you get up, you see Rafe looking at you from a distance. You can't help but smile at him, and he waves at you.

A few seconds pass and you’re still looking at him, a smile persistent on your face. Sage’s body relaxes in your arms, and you see she’s almost asleep. You give Rafe a small nod of your head and walk back to where your car is parked.

You set Sage in her car seat, her now being completely asleep. As you close her door, you turn around to see Rafe walking to you.

“Hey,” you smile at him as he approaches you.

“Hi,” he says back, a similar smile on his face. You take a moment to look in his bright blue eyes, the light shining on them to make them seem even brighter than usual.

He takes a look into the car window, seeing the small resting body of Sage. “She’s very smart, you know? And a bright ray of sunshine,” he says, smiling fondly at her.

“I wouldn’t doubt that, she absolutely adores you,” I say. “She comes back home each day with a huge smile on her face,” I sigh, my smile not leaving my face.

“She is just… such a beautiful addition to the class,” Rafe says softly. A moment of silence passes over you two as you steal a glance at Sage in your car, her resting deeply in her seat. The cotton floss clouds slowly shift in the sky, small streaks of golden, hazy sunlight falling on you two.

Just for a second, you see the sunlight strike across Rafe’s eyes, and they seem a brighter blue than usual. Not the usual navy blue, but a sapphire blue instead; the pupil seeming even darker. Your own eyes almost widen at the ethereal sight; it seems as if his eyes just changed colors.

“Uh y/n?” Rafe calls softly. You blink yourself out of your daze and let a small smile grace your face, noticing how the sunrays aren’t falling across his eyes anymore and they’ve returned to their usual dark blue.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, you just seemed a little lost there… is everything alright?” He asks, furrowing his brows a little.

And it happens again.

The sunlight falls, and the electric blue appears again. But you try your best to not distract yourself much from it.

“Yeah yeah,” you say, “everything’s alright,”

Silence falls over you two again, but it’s short lived before Rafe speaks again.

“Listen I uh… I wanted to ask you something,” Rafe says. You tilt your head slightly, your brows furrowed slightly.

“Hm?” You hum, wanting him to continue.

He seems to be fumbling with his words, not knowing what to say as his gaze refuses to meet yours, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“I was wondering if…” he takes a deep breath, and you notice his hands are at his back, and your first intuition is that he’s probably fiddling with his fingers the way he seems so flustered. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab some coffee with me sometime…” He says, and his voice fades by the end of the sentence, the words dissolving in the air around you.

The creases in your forehead relax and your eyes widen slightly as you process the words.

You and Rafe. Out for coffee. That sounds like a date…

“I mean, we don’t have to have coffee, we can go to some other place if that’s more of your thing…” he rambles. “We don’t even have to go to some food place, we can go for uh… movies and such, or uh… an art museum maybe…”

You can’t help but softly smile at him. His cheeks tinted with a light pink as he rambles on, listing possible locations of where you can go as his gaze refuses to meet yours. It feels as if you’re a teenager, your first crush asking you out.

“Rafe,” you say softly, and he looks up at you. “The offer is beautiful but…” you take a deep breath, “are you sure it’s okay for you to go out for coffee with a… a parent?”

“Of course it is,” he says almost immediately. “Don’t think of me as your child’s teacher I just… I would love to get to know you better,”

You can’t help but smile at his words. The idea sounds quite nice to you, not to mention how Rafe has caught your eye since you first ever saw him.

Since you ended your marriage, you were busy with raising Sage, leaving you no time to put yourself out there for dating whatsoever. You barely even had time to even make a simple conversation with someone, seeing how you were always busy with either taking care of Sage or your own job.

But this? It feels right.

“Then it’s okay,” you say. “I’ll love to have some coffee with you,”

You can see how Rafe’s eyes light up; metaphorically and literally as the sunlight strikes against them and they turn the sharp electric blue, but it’s only momentary. His lips pull into a grin and he nods at you. “Sounds wonderful,” he says softly.

You acknowledge him with a nod of your own head, and pass on a smile.

This is good. This feels good.

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[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Sarah, Tommy, Emily, and JB unknowingly banding together for the win. Joel is his own warning. Inappropriate (or entirely appropriate?) use of a massager. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eight | Main Masterlist

“Girl, you’ve got it baaad,” Emily teased, watching you eye your phone every five seconds. The pair of you were getting drinks at your favorite watering hole the Saturday before your first full week of officially teaching.

“I can’t help it, Em. He’s got this, like, hold over me or something,” you replied sheepishly, one hand tucking your phone away in your back pocket. You were starting to annoy yourself with how often you checked for texts from Joel.

“You’re in love, that’s what happens.” Emily shrugged and sipped at her fruity mixed drink. “How’d the holidays go?”

Your expression lit up as you told Emily about your first major holidays with the Millers. Having spent some holidays with them while you were still away at school, your dad already fit into their family dynamic seamlessly. You were a happy and much-loved addition to the festivities and there was plenty of laughter among the adults at how badly Tommy botched dinner for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Why Joel and your dad ever let him try again after the wreck that was Thanksgiving dinner was beyond you. Thankfully, your dad saved the day both times with his unparalleled grilling skills.

“So, it’s safe to say that JB’s still happy about you and Joel being together?” Emily asked after your own laughter at recounting the mess died down.

“Is he ever,” you replied with a shake of your head. “He loves to rib Joel on making an honest woman out of me. Joel takes it in stride, but I’m kinda afraid that it’ll scare him off if my dad keeps it up.”

“Oh, please! That man is clearly head over fuckin’ heels for you. Hell, he’s already told you and JB that he loves you, he’s not goin’ anywhere!” After taking another sip of her drink, Emily shot you a pointed look. “When the hell am I gonna meet Joel, anyway? I feel like you’re actively hiding him from me.”

You stilled.

Were you doing that? You didn’t think so, not at first, but… If you were honest with yourself, there was an element of truth to Emily’s accusation.

“Shit, Em. I’m not doing it purposefully, I swear,” you replied beseechingly, pausing to figure out how to properly explain things. Finding a scratch in the tabletop suddenly fascinating, you stared at it while continuing. “I just have to share him so much already, between Sarah and my dad, even his brother – not that I begrudge him spending time with any of them, especially Sarah! It’s just… when I have time with him, I want to keep him to myself. You know what I mean?”

God, that made you sound so selfish. You looked up to find Emily grinning at you.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I’ve never seen you so in love. It looks good on you.” Emily clinked her now empty glass against your half-full one. “Just promise me that I’ll get to meet him soon. We could do a double date or something, so it doesn’t take away too much of your precious alone time.”

Over another round of drinks, you made plans for a few Fridays from now, quietly hoping Joel wouldn’t mind.

Heading home, you longed to see Joel, but it was late, and he was spending time with Sarah. He went to great lengths to make sure his daughter did not feel left out or neglected while the two of you explored your relationship, setting aside time for just the two of them to hang out. You loved that about him and knew how important that quality time was for Sarah. Besides, you planned to head over there tomorrow to get a little quality time of your own ahead of the busy week ahead.

In the morning, you slept in and lazed around the house for a while, taking the opportunity to relax and ease into your day while your dad puttered around until mid-day. You hadn’t heard from Joel, but that didn’t bother you – he knew you planned to come over. Around one o’clock, you headed over to the Millers, picking up some pizza and beer on the way.  

Pulling up in front of the house, you found your usual spot in the driveway taken by your dad’s truck while Tommy’s truck blocked the remaining space. With a huff you parked along the curb. You would have ordered more pizza if you knew everyone would be here.

“Howdy boys,” you greeted as you walked in. “I come bearing pizza and beer, though I fear we’ll need lots more with this crew.”

Only one set of eyes turned away from the football game playing on TV as they all greet you in return. Getting up from his beloved corner spot on the couch, Joel took the pizza and beer from your hands and placed them on the coffee table before pulling you into the kitchen for a proper greeting.

“Hi darlin’, I’ve missed you,” Joel murmured, his voice already raspy from yelling at the TV. He pulled you close until your bodies were flush together and kissed you deeply. Like a magnet, your fingers threaded through his messy curls, tugging gently as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Mmm, I missed you, too, handsome. Didn’t know you were having company.”

Joel flashed his big cow eyes at you, eyebrows pinched together regretfully. “’M sorry, baby. I didn’t know they were coming by to watch the game ‘til they got here. Apparently, my TV is the best, so here they are. Hope that’s ok. I’ll kick ‘em right the hell out if you want me to.”

The thought did cross your mind.

“Nah, enjoy the game with the boys. I’ll sit with you guys for a bit then hang with Sarah until they leave.” Still wrapped in each other’s arms, you nuzzled the tanned skin of Joel’s neck and he hummed.

“You gonna stay over?”

You shouldn’t, not on a school night – your first as a bona fide teacher – but you had so little time together. “Sure. Just don’t keep me up too late, Mister. Those kids are exhausting, and I need my energy for the first day.”

“Miller! Stop neckin’ with my daughter and get your ass out here!” your dad’s voice bellowed through the house, causing the two of you to spring apart.

“Jesus, Dad,” you sighed, pecking Joel on the lips one last time before following him out to the living room. When would the game be over?

Surprisingly, you enjoyed the time watching the game with everyone. Even Sarah came down to join you all at half-time, book in hand, and sat between you and Joel reading. It was a lovely afternoon and a lovelier night as Joel held you in his arms, whispering words of praise into your hair until you fell into a deep slumber.

Your first week of teaching passed in a blur. After a month of assisting the prior teacher before his official retirement, the students knew you and respected your authority, setting the stage for an overall lovely experience. You started off with earth science lessons and most of the kids were engaged and eager to learn. Of course, you had a few little challenges with difficult students testing their boundaries, but you felt good about the way you handled each situation.

You stayed later after the students were dismissed, using the time to organize the room to your liking and get the lesson plans in order. Sarah perched at one of the long wooden tables working on her homework while you completed your tasks. The pattern offered you and Sarah some quality time together and the young girl found great enjoyment in putting you on the spot, especially when her dad was the topic at hand.

“JB keeps telling dad he needs to marry you,” Sarah blurted randomly Friday afternoon. “Do you want to?”

Staring at her wide-eyed, unsure what to say, you merely shrugged. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you getting married? You only started dating a few months ago!

Tilting her head to the side with a little smirk, Sarah replied, “That’s not a ‘no’.”

She was getting to be as bad as your dad and Tommy.

“You could be my stepmom! I always wanted one since I didn’t get to have a regular mom.”

Despite Sarah’s cheerfulness at the idea, your heart ached for all the real mom-related experiences she didn’t get to have. You knew exactly how that felt. If marrying Joel wasn’t already something you hoped for in the future, it would be after hearing Sarah expressing her desire for a stepmom, for you as a stepmom.

Sarah kept talking, while you lost yourself in thought.

Would you be a good stepmom?

God, you hoped so.

You never had one, JB chose to never get too serious with anyone after your mom, but you heard enough horror stories from your friends about their own stepmoms through the years. It sounded like a thankless job. But all the people you knew with stepparents had both birth parents still in their lives, so maybe your experience would be different.

The late bell chimed, drawing you out of your ever-spiraling thoughts.

“Come on, nugget. Let’s get you home,” you said, pushing thoughts of marriage and step parenthood to the farthest recesses of your mind.

“If you’re not gonna marry my dad, could you at least move in with us? It would be so great if you lived with us!”

Jesus fucking Christ in a handbasket. This kid sure knew how to keep you on your toes.

Leaning over the bar top with hunched shoulders and an aching back, Joel picked at the label on the beer bottle. He didn’t often visit the bar after work, not since Sarah came into his life, but he finally had some extra money and felt like treating himself. You stopped letting him pay you months ago, when the two of you became more to each other than just babysitter and boss, and he stashed that money away each week, saving it for what he didn’t know.

At his side, Tommy carried on about some chick he met a few weeks ago. A pretty attorney who was way out of his league and already turned him down twice. Like a dog with a bone, Tommy showed no signs of giving up yet.

“You better be careful, brother. She may get a restraining order against you if you don’t take it easy,” Joel said, voice a rich rumble.

Tommy waved him off with a chortle. “Oh please. She’s loving it. Chicks like that like being pursued.”

“If you say so.” Joel didn’t know this woman or what she liked, but he knew for a fact that you would hate it if a guy relentlessly pursued you after turning him down, not once, but twice. He smiled at the thought of you kicking a guy like that in the fucking balls to prove that you were very much not interested.

He full on laughed at the thought of you kicking his little brother in the balls, causing Tommy to glance sideways at him.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” Joel grumbled, clearing his throat. Thoughts of you continued to invade his mind, just like they always did. You were always on his mind, and he loved it. If only you were always in his bed… Joel cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. How do you know if it’s too early to ask a girl to move in?”

Tommy groaned. “Why you always askin’ me this shit? How am I supposed to know? I have less actual relationship experience than you do.”

“Who else am I supposed to ask, huh? JB? Don’t imagine that’d go over too well,” Joel replied with a defeated shrug, but Tommy conceded the point.

“You need more friends, man.” Clearing his throat, Tommy gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, the way I see it, you love her, and she loves you, everyone knows it, and JB and Sarah are both happy for the two of you. Moving in together seems like the logical next step, right?”

Joel nodded, still uncertain.

“Only the two of you can know if the pace is right. Seems to me like you both waited long enough for the right one to come along. You’ve both been through some shit, why waste any more time?”

Damn, when did his little brother become so insightful?

“Alright, I get your point. Do you think she’ll say yes if I ask?” As secure as he was in your love for each other, Joel still floundered a bit at each new step in the relationship department.

“I dunno, brother. You’re just gonna have to grow a pair and find out.”

“Fuckin’ grow a pair,” Joel grumbled, punching Tommy in the arm, hard.

The pair bickered through another round, like brothers do, before calling it an evening. Eager to see you and Sarah, Joel didn’t want to waste away the evening in the bar with Tommy. As they walked out to their trucks, Tommy stopped Joel with a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, brother. In all seriousness, I think she’ll say yes, so just ask, ok?”

Joel nodded his thanks and confirmed plans for watching the game at his place on Sunday, before climbing into his truck. The trip home didn’t take long, and for that Joel was grateful. His back ached after a busy week of hard labor followed by an hour sitting hunched over the bar. He’d kill for a massage.

The house was quiet when he walked in, no sign of you or Sarah on the ground floor. Kicking off his work boots and dropping the truck keys onto the hook near the door, Joel slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Light flooded into the hall from Sarah’s bedroom, the sound of giggles and low voices echoing in the air. He moved slowly, quietly, until he could just peek around the door jamb. You sat on Sarah’s bed, the little girl perched in front of you, as you braided her wiry curls.

The sight melted Joel’s insides into a gooey puddle.

This. This was exactly what he wanted to come home to everyday.

He had to ask you to move in.

Just as he straightened up with a silent groan, ready to enter the room, Sarah’s sweet little voice left him frozen in place.

“I think you’d make the best stepmom.”

“This again,” you griped playfully. “You do, huh? Why?”

Was this something Sarah brought up before? Joel held his breath, waiting for Sarah’s response.

“Because you love my dad and you love me, you’re always kind even when things go wrong, you’re smart, and you like spending time with me. But most of all, because you do the things a mom does even though you’re not my mom and you don’t have to.”

He caught your gasp even though you tried to hide it from Sarah. You were as affected by Sarah’s heartfelt, innocent confession as he was. His adorable, sweet little girl knew you’d make a great stepmom and he agreed with all her reasons. If possible, he fell further in love with you in that moment after seeing you through his daughter’s eyes.

“Well, you’re right, nugget. I do love you and your dad, and I hope that one day, when the time is right, I can be your stepmom. Until then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, ok? I’ll still love you to pieces even without the official title.”

You choked out the words, on the verge of tears, and Joel felt his own eyes begin to water. Unable to bear it any longer, he swept through the doorway and pulled you both against his chest in a big bear hug. His precious girls. He loved you both more than words could express.

“Daddy! You’re squeezing too tight! Imma burst!” Sarah shrieked with laughter as he tossed her onto the bed and began tickling her with one hand, his other still holding your close.

“Did you…” Your eyes searched his, a hint of worry hiding in their depths, and Joel grinned, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I heard it all,” Joel confirmed, confidence bolstered knowing you wanted to marry him at some point. Conveying every feeling held in his heart through his eyes, he added, “Move in with us. Please.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, searching for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, darlin’.”

The three of you celebrated with ice cream after you agreed to move in with them before putting Sarah to bed. By then, Joel’s back ached something fierce and you offered to use the message gun he forgot he had.

“Lay face down on the bed, my love,” you directed, watching with adoration as he tugged the shirt over his head, jeans hanging low on his hips. The muscles rippled in his arms and back as he settled on the soft mattress. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Joel murmured, huffing when you climbed over him to straddle his ass.

Turning on the massage gun, you put it on the middle setting and pressed the ball against the flesh of his traps. Even through the device, you could feel how tight those muscles were. It must be where he held his tension. Over the next half hour, you worked the massager over his back, soaking in the grunts that bordered on pain and relief. Somewhere along the way, the groans turned pleasurable, and Joel rolled onto his back, leaving you to straddle his thighs as the bulge in his jeans grew.

Joel’s hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, but you batted his hand away with a mischievous grin. With wide, wondrous eyes, he watched you adjust the setting on the massager and run it along the seam of his pants.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, cock twitching with interest at the vibration. “Don’t stop.”

Hands gripping your hips, he bucked up into the delightful buzz of the massager, a steady stream of moans falling from his lips as the vibrations spread from his balls upwards to the head of his cock. Fuck, if it felt that good through his jeans, how good would it feel directly on his cock?

“Do you want me to increase the speed setting?” you purred, pressing the massager harder against him.

“Oh God, fuck. Yes… ungh. Please.” The words fell from his lips in a series of whimpers as you adjusted the settings. Within moments, he moaned a bit too loudly and came in his pants. You didn’t let up on the pressure though, the vibration drawing out his orgasm until every last drop of his load was blown and his body nearly convulsed with the overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he watched you switch off the massager and run your fingers along the large wet spot on his jeans, his cock twitching tiredly in response.

“That was fucking sexy,” you murmured, enthralled with the mess you just made of him.

“Yeah? Lemme see that thing. Think it’s my turn now, pretty girl.”

Tbc

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