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thewritingfairy · 4 hours ago

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↪ 04. For love is all the reasoning we need

PREV PART trigger warnings: narrator is mean to Name, internalised ableism, talks about cults, anger, cringy first date start, medical + emotional + physical neglect main m.list series m.list

Damian never understood you, and he never will. It’s something he had chosen to accept the day you ran away. Unlike his father he isn’t foolish, he isn’t a stranger to your passive face. He is no stranger to the kind eyes you used to look at him, and he’s no stranger to them turning into disappointment.

He had made his own bed, and he has lied in it. It’s why he doesn’t bother John when he rambles about Conner finally going on a date. It is why he doesn’t push John when he suddenly stops talking and looks around nervously. For he knows, Conner has always had eyes on you.

Damian loves you, but he can’t love you in the way you need. So he’ll stand back, he’ll keep you from being found. But Jason is tracking you down quicker than you can blink, he needs to get a message out.

So he opens Tim’s phone, truly for their second tech savvy team member you would have hoped he had a better password. A password that didn’t take him 10 seconds to guess, but then again, often the most intelligent of us make the most foolish mistakes. For those consumed with fear and greed never make the right choices.

It’s why Damian could still never be like you. You, who could have been the perfect vigilante had you not been so weak. So as your blood brother, he will be the one keeping you safe.

He just needs to copy down Conner’s phone number and send the text. But can he? Does he have a right to intervene with your life when you’ve made it clear that this family is not something you want? But do you truly not want them? Are you just protecting yourself? Are you worried that their attention will be even more painful than their rejection?

To an extent Damian can understand you, so he’ll text you. For it is time to not think of his own greed and thoughts. It’s time to think of yours as Jason basically hunts you down. For it’s you who will have to live with the consequences, not him.

When Conner got a cryptic text he immediately know from who it was. The language is consistence with your youngest brother. Damian Wayne, your only blood related sibling. And the only one he knows you would give another chance.

For you resent Tim the most, as a fellow child of neglect you had expected him to speak up more. Yet it was his best friend who defended you, who included you. While you are no longer angry at Tim, that hurt will never disappear. Even when you understand that his actions were motivated for the fear of abandonment.

But Damian, the child of the Cult. The child who only knew Jason, the child who is now telling Conner to watch out for the same man he sees as a brother long before he acknowledged Dick as family.

So here he is waiting for you as he stares at Damian’s text, he’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t see you as you wave at him. He’s with his heads in the clouds and he crashes down the moment you tap him on his shoulder. Not because he’s disappointed to see you, no never. Not when you look like Aphrodite blessed her yourself, not when you look at him with your kind and hopeful eyes.

“You scared me,” Conner says, his breath almost caught in his throat as the sun makes you shine ever brighter. Gods, it’s as if you are glowing. If he didn’t know better he would call you a mutant for how his heart stops every time he sees you smile.

You chuckle, and Conner swears that it sounds like bells. He swears that he can he feel your warmth, even when he knows it’s from the sun.

“I can see that,” you tease him with a laugh as you ruffle his hair. The hair he took a great deal to tidy up, something that looks unnatural. “way better, now you actually look like yourself.”

With that you stepped inside of the dinner and Conner had to hold his breath. He knew he had done his hair in a new way, but he wouldn’t have dreamt of you noticing. And most of all that you noticed he felt uncomfortable.

Gods, you are getting better with every minute, aren’t you?

…. You aren’t, truly you’ve always been like this. Even with all the misfortune in your life you would never ask someone to change, even if it would be in your favour. Doesn’t he know? You like him for him, not for a manufactured idea of him.

In his mind this is the great start of a first date (for a second he forgot the text Damian has send him), but for you? You are panicking as you quickly find a secluded booth as you attempt to calm your breathing. You know your face isn’t as reactive as you are internally, truly you’ve mastered a poker face without ever playing. It would be impressive if the reason wasn’t so pathetic, as you would rather die than show anyone how the pain you feel haunts you.

It’s also the one thing Conner dislikes about you, for your facial expressions are something he adores. You look so pretty when you frown, you look hot when you look at him as if you know all he’s thinking. You look so cool when you roll your eyes, for it is never in contempt. It is always done in a manner of; “I know you mean well to an extent, but please shut your mouth.”

Some would say you look ignorant and arrogant with that poker face, when Conner had just met you he would have agreed. But now he knows the twitches of your pupils, he knows how your fingers tap the table. He knows all your clues, he just wishes you showed them with all your might.

But you won’t.

As said before; you hate showing your facial expressions as they always betray the pain you are feeling. As they always betray how you hold your hands so that they don’t tremble with every pain attack you have.

But that is not something you should focus on right now. You are on a date, your focus should be on him. Don’t be selfish… You don’t want to become the person Alfred told you you were, now do you?

So suck it up, pretend nothing is wrong as anxiety and pain crawls up your spine. As your whole body screams at you for relief, you want this date. So finish it.

NEXT PART

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whowrotethenote · 2 days ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

Warnings // Slight smut // Profanity // Infidelity // Age gap // Angst

Word Count // 3k

Disclaimer // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist // Navigation

Tuesday, June 18, 2024

“Well, how the hell do they know if they really like each other or not? If it’s even genuine?” He asks his umpteenth question since he got comfortable behind me.

“They don’t know. That’s the whole point.”

“Huh?” I twist and tilt my neck at angle where I can see his perfect face. Thick brows hiking up and soft lips in a dumbfounded pout. I chuckle at both his ignorance and determination to grasp the concept of the show.

He came in an hour ago, looking depleted and ready for bed. Tried to coax me into taking a shower with him, but I declined because nine o’clock in the summer indicates something he clearly just doesn’t get. Love Island.

He emerged from the steamy bathroom, still wet and fine as ever. His attention pinned by the commotion that is Rob and Leah—he stood with just a towel tied on his waist and hands planted on his hips, in equal intrigue and confusion.

It became just as much a task for him to focus on getting dressed without falling, because he was too locked in on the TV— as it was for me to focus on the episode without drooling from seeing his god-like body. Every time is like the first time. Like witnessing an angel blasted from heaven the way I mindlessly gawked at him moving about the bus. Tonight was no different and it’s been well over a year.

Before I knew it, he had snuck his large frame behind mine in the center of the bed, allowing me to lay between his long legs, while resting my back to his front. Question after question like rapid fire from his mouth at this show he apparently had never heard of before tonight.

“If they recouple like they’re doing right now—that’s one way. Then, if a bombshell comes in, that’s another—”

“Andrea was a bombshell?”

“Right,” I confirm. “The biggest way is probably Casa Amour, which is coming soon.”

“Casa who?”

My shoulders shake with amusement. “Think of it as like their girl’s trip or guy’s trip away from the Villa. The boys and girls you see now are gonna separate. Then, they’re gonna bring in a whole group of bombshells for them to replace the original boys or girls they were living with.” I peak up at him to make sure he’s following. His slightly parting pink lips and damp hair momentarily suspending my attention. “They spend a few days getting to know the new group and doing challenges against the original Villa and stuff. Then at the end of Casa, they get to choose to either recouple with a bombshell or stay with the partner they originally had in the Villa.”

He shakes his head with a slight frown. “That’s no way to find love.”

“What do you suggest Pop Pop? Meeting at a Juke Joint?”

His finger is solid when he drives it into my side causing me to squirm. His large palm returning to its resting place, flat on my stomach after my laughing fit dies down. “I’m just saying, it seems more like manipulation than anything. Tactics and shit instead of naturally falling for someone. All these tests and whatnot.”

“Well, I think it’s cake compared to what they would deal with in the real world trying to date someone.”

“If you say so.” We catch each other at the same second. Him looking down at me while I peer up at him, pushing my head to rest on his shoulder instead of his chest.

“In the Villa they only gotta worry about the bombshells coming in and out. Out here, there’s people on social media and the people they meet in day to day life, posing as threats. You don’t think this is easier?” I point to the screen. Nicole standing separate from the pack, who’s waiting for her to announce which boy she plans to steal.

“Makes sense.”

“Oh—and at the end, the boy or the girl in the winning couple, wins money. They get to decide whether to keep it for themselves or split it with their person. I guess that’s another way they’ll know if it’s for real or not.”

“Oh—so there’s money involved?” He rolls his big eyes. “Well, now it’s all starting to make better sense. Everybody in there has their eyes on money.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Are they allowed to have sex on here?”

“Freaky frog,” I mutter, earning another round of tickles.

“I can’t imagine they expect them to sleep in the same bed for weeks, doing these challenges, swapping spit, and they can’t take out all that pent up energy.”

“They gets down, they don’t play. Production catches it on camera sometimes. Of course they can’t show anything too crazy.”

“Would you go? On Love Island?” He asks after a moment of silence from us.

Without taking my eyes from the screen, “probably not,” falls effortlessly from my lips.

“Going so hard for them and you wouldn’t put yourself in their shoes?”

I force a half smile, knowing he can see my face from his angle above me. I imagine myself, under the sweltering heat of Fiji, bikini snug on me, face freshly done. All smiles and laughing so hard with another islander as we lay in the daybed. Him—preferably older, toned, with tattoos. Eyes that sparkle whenever he looks at me. Jokes and memories I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Newly coupled. Falling deeply into one another and learning ourselves without the noise of this selfish world. The possibility of love swaying above our heads.

Just when everything feels perfect—the voice of yet another islander asking to pull him—my man—for a chat.

Here in the real world, I’m clueless. I have no idea what happens when Joe, or even Jaire, is not in my sight. Joe lives an entirely different life outside of me. I’m completely aware of that, but I don’t have to see any of it. Out of sight and somewhat out of mind. I’m left to the possibilities.

But on an island where the goal is to find love as quickly as possible, having to see his connection rise with another? Having my eye on every single prospect? Watching them go through their own ups and downs? The bubbling of my stomach at the fire pit, waiting for him to choose between us, not having a clue of what thoughts loom in his head, while only knowing what he tells me?

Love Island is not for me. Love Island is not for the weak.

“I think I take my statement back about this being easier than real life,” I confess to him. Mindlessly staring into the screen, still in a daze of the scenario I’ve painted.

He laughs behind me. “You alright?”

I crane my neck to look into his chiseled features. “I’m cool.”

“You sure?” He pushes.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

I suck my teeth, unable to hold the laugh in. “Yeah,” I reiterate.

His face is leaning down, closing the tiny space between our faces. My eyes fall to his lips right before they meet mine. It starts as one peck. Then another. And another, right before his thick tongue swipes my lips asking for entry and I give it to him. Love Island becoming nothing but background noise.

The loud smacking of our mouths colliding and the light growls slipping from his throat—it’s like music to my ears. It’s exotic. It’s sensual. The wheels in my core turning. I can feel the tiny yet powerful heartbeat of my clit jump to life. The hot slickness at the opening, ready for him. He doesn’t even have to do much. A kiss is foreplay enough.

My hand finds its way into the thick hairs of his beard. Rubbing, pulling and tugging—soliciting a deep grunt from his mouth into mine. I smile into the kiss, stuck between wanting to rip his pants off and just get it over with or taking my time like we are now.

At the same moment the friction of the cotton tube top I have on, moves snug across my aching nipples, is the same moment his large hand comes over it. Grabbing the whole thing in his palm and squeezing. Pinching the peak and now I’m the one making noises. A low gasp escapes me in between the kiss—squirming and pushing my chest out, silently begging for more.

He slips both hands under the elastic band responsible for holding the thin fabric of my shirt up on my chest. The connection of skin to skin, starting another fire in me. He pulls it down and my nipples harden even more meeting the cool air of his condo.

But he blankets them—his hands moving and going to work—kneading them and cupping them like he’s building sandcastles. I fully understand how women can get there by way of just nipple play if their partner’s hands were as skilled as the man’s hands behind me.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

His phone damn near shakes the bed when it vibrates. But it’s not just one or two. It’s a consistent rhythm of one buzz after another, signaling a call in place of a text. Splitting our world to shreds. The dark clouds moving in. It sounds like the alarm clock at seven a.m. sharp when you’ve just made the passing into slumber a mere two hours before.

An uneasy warmth spreads in my chest. Breaking the kiss to catch the picture on his screen of them. Their eldest tucked between them. Six letters followed by a red heart.

“Joe,” I whisper, barely audible. The most desperate attempt to stop the current porno unfolding, even with the heat of his breath on my neck now. Thumbs padding over my nipples, daring me to lose focus.

“Ignore it,” he demands in a soft whisper back. It’s as if he presses a magic button because the call stops, returning to the home screen.

My head is split down the center. Imagining what she could be calling for, envisioning the worst case scenario. Something’s wrong and because her car fell on death ears, she’s on her way here now to get him—is what my delusional mind comes up with.

But his hand slithers under the elastic of my shorts next. Rubbing slow but deliberate circles on the sensitive skin, eliciting the music of my moans, like the most skilled DJ you’ve ever known. And pleasure is no longer just occupying one half of my mind. It’s robbed the other half blind.

“Mm,” I groan out. Unable to keep still, my hips push up into his hand. I twist my head back up to catch his eyes. He’s so focused. Eyes bouncing off my face, recording every change as he goes to work. He offers his thick tongue for me to take as we bury ourselves in each other’s mouths once again. Hungry as ever. I can cum just like this. As long as he doesn’t stop feeding me his tongue and massaging my clit. Our breathing kicks up. My mind goes to another place, picturing how hard he must be. The fatness of it. The veins. The curve. The pink tip. And now I need it in my mouth.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

I break the kiss again, but his hand is quick when he takes my chin between his thumb and pointer to bring me back.

“Joe—it could be important,” I reason. I take the last teeter of strength I have to push those words out. God knows I don’t want to stop, but I’m way too in my head to continue now. That’s two calls back to back.

His stare is pinned on my face, unmoving, for a good fifteen seconds or so. As if he’s waiting for me to change my mind. But the vibrations—it just keeps going. Seemingly ringing louder and more ferocious with each one. Practically screaming at me.

The air in the room changes completely. It was hot and steamy—suffocating—filled with want and a need for connection. Now it’s cold. Ice cold with nothing but the truth and reality, bring the spirit of the room down. And now I’m wondering—is this coldness our default? Should it stay like this? Because the switch up is unbearable.

I pull my shirt back over my chest with a pop of the elastic band. Scooting off the bed, with pursed lips and stickiness on my other ones. Cutting the haunting sound of his vibrating phone off, I slide the balcony door closed and it meets the frame harder than I intend for it to. The humidity of the late night Miami air mocking me—mimicking the intensity that just rested in our hands and slipped away. Fuck me.

I plop down in the lounge chair. Arms folded across my chest, blowing out the heaviest breath, but even as it leaves me, my chest doesn’t feel any lighter. I don’t feel any lighter. This feeling still rests heavy on me.

Bright lights of the city staring back at me. The ripples of the eccentric blue water from the pool, not too far from me. All this beauty—all this life. I should be happy—and I was—but now I don’t know what the fuck to be. I don’t have any control anymore. I never really did.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I turn my head to see him through the glass. The phone stuck to his ear, while his hand just keeps going. Mouth just moving through the frown. Brows furrowed and straining. I can feel all the angst of the phone call even with the separation of the glass. I turn back before he can notice. My stomach doing somersaults.

She’s never called this late. At least not to my knowledge. Is someone hurt? Is she just wondering where he is? Did he just leave there to come here? I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s just up and left. She has to know. Doesn’t she? I rub the side of my head as the questions come swarming in.

The sound of the door sliding open breaks my thoughts and my heart—hearing his keys jingle in his hand with every step he takes to me. His large frame comes into view as he stares into the side of my face. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even have to.

The water from the pool is unbearably loud. I laugh to myself, finally meeting his gaze. The look of sympathy and sorriness, painting the sickest picture on him.

“You have to go…” I blurt out the words he doesn’t seem to have the heart to. Those brown orbs falling down at the ground immediately, then back out to the water. Every where but me at first.

The free-flowing water of the pool catches my attention. Mocking me. Representing something so jaded. The illusion of freedom. The water looks as if it's free to roam and do as it pleases, but it doesn’t belong up here. The ocean, the bigger body, that represents actual freedom is where it belongs. Up here in the molded pool, it’s limited. It feels free because it doesn’t know anything else—it doesn’t know the sea.

I don't know the sea and I never will. Not with him, anyway. I’ve been fooling myself. Since graduation, I’ve molded myself here, as if I belong. As if him being here with me is okay. As if this fixed freedom is the reality.

The reality is—when his wife calls, he has to go. When reality comes knocking, I’m reminded, that this condo is merely a pool. It’ll never compare to the real thing. The real thing we’ll never be able to grasp because he already has his own real thing.

Even after I’ve waited in here all day for him—one call and he has to go.

“Are you going to be here when I get back?”

“—I don’t know.” I spit in a clipping tone. No room for feedback. No room for his thoughts. I really don’t care for any of it right now. Won’t change anything.

I have no one to be angry with, but myself. I did this. I signed the dotted line just as he did. I knew exactly who he was and what this was.

Awareness didn’t ease anything. It doesn’t suppress this feeling. This heat brewing in my chest. The tears stinging my eyes.

I hate him. I hate this condo. I hate Miami. I hate this pool. I hate how he balances my emotions on a string like I’m his puppet for play. Hate how one look from him, eases everything while still lighting it all ablaze. I hate it all.

“Your life will always feel like a prison if you keep hiding from the people in it.”

I’m used to taking the crumbs and being grateful for just that. Lately, I don’t know if it's enough anymore. Something is changing. Switching from him to Jaire is eye opening. I turn around and give the same crumbs to one, that I’m receiving from the other.

Inconsistency is worse than nothing at all. I’m starting to see that, now. And this is what my mother meant. I fear I won’t be leaving this the same way I came in it.

I look up at him as my words linger. He doesn’t respond and he barely moves—frustrating me even more. Next thing I know I feel his lips press into the side of my forehead and it the levy that held my tears back breaks. Crying is redundant. It changes nothing. Neither him nor I deserve anyone’s tears. There are no victims here. God, I hate this.

And just like that he’s gone. When he’ll be back—a mystery.

All I want is to call Demi and tell her about this shitty ass night. And I can’t even do that.

Loveless Island. That’s where I’ve been residing. And clearly I am on this island alone.

A/N // so this short is sort of a prequel to another short that will come later titled Hate Sleeping Alone.

poor Lana bear. *sighs loudly*

next thing i post regarding Biggest Fan will finally be part 4 Desires. we finally will get to see the aftermath of what happened in A Better View.

i kind of want to update Tribal Killer first, but when do i ever stick to my plans? smh

as always, if you read it or even a portion of it, i am forever grateful💗 feedback is welcomed.

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raven-dor · 1 day ago

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steve brings you and the kids to the lake for the 4th - drabble #1

💗 - guys i was driving home from my holiday festivities and i was inspired... enjoy!! word count: 992

"Let's go, move it!" Steve's hands were settled on his hips, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the kids to catch up. "I swear to god if we don't get a good spot because of you-"

"Steve." You laughed, placing a hand on his arm. "Relax."

"I am relaxed." He huffed, sweat building up on his brow from the summer heat. "I'm very relaxed."

You laughed, taking the sleeve of your coverup and wiping the sweat away. "Normally, people who are relaxed don't say they're relaxed."

"Stop canoodling." Eddie pretended to gag. "It's disgusting."

Steve scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into his side. "If you're so disgusted, then stop looking, Munson."

"I can't." He groaned, leaning onto Robin's shoulder in faux despair. "It's everywhere I go."

"Alright." Steve huffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from your annoying friend. "They can catch up, don't know why I waited."

You frowned, looking up at him as you walked. "What's gotten into you?"

"What d'you mean?"

"This morning you were cheery as can be, and now you're all cranky." You poked his side, giggling. "Does the old man need a nap?"

"I'm only three months older than you. I'm not that old."

"Teasing, Harrington." You stopped at the picnic table, setting down the cooler you'd been carrying. "Don't you think this is a little much? We're only staying here for two hours."

"We have like ten people with us. If each person has two hot dogs, that's twenty. And we all know Henderson, Munson, and Sinclair will want three, so twenty-three. We need chips to go with the hot dogs and-" He was cute when he was rambling, taking into account what each of your friends needed. It was adorable how he knew exactly what they'd all want.

Still, you couldn't have him being cranky all day; this was supposed to be fun.

"Steve." It's as if you ceased to exist, the bubble of worry clouding over all his senses. Your hand reached up, cupping his cheek, effectively cutting him off. "Seriously, it'll be alright. We packed the right amount of everything, trust me."

He smiled. "Course I trust you." His shoulders fell, a visible representation of the stress leaving his body. Then Max aimed a Roman candle at Mike. "If I have to call 911, Mayfield, I'm never driving you again!"

"Let me handle this, Harrington. Why don't you get started on the dogs, yeah?" You shook your head endearingly at the kids, ushering them to come sit before someone lost a limb. "Come sit down, guys!"

"Do you have my hot dogs ready?" Dustin plopped down beside you, eagerly eyeing the food in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow, forcing yourself not to grin at his antics. "Does it look like the hot dogs are done?" He shook his head, and you nodded. "Besides, I think you mean 'Thank you for making us all this delicious meal.'"

"Yeah," Dustin spoke between bites of a watermelon slice. "Sorry. Thank you."

"Of course." You whispered, gesturing toward the man by the grill. "You should thank him, too."

Without missing a beat, Dustin yelled out. "Thank you, Steve, this is great!" 'Thank you, Steve, ' echoed from the crowd, his gurmpy face growing red with the attention.

He waved them off, acting as if he hadn't just been complaining about them minutes ago. "Don't mention it, guys."

"When do you think fireworks will start?" Max leaned across the table, grabbing a bottle of water.

You shrugged, gauging how long it would take for the sky to darken. "Probably an hour or so."

She groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto Lucas's shoulder, who stilled from the sudden attention. Lucas was so in love with her that it was borderline pitiful to watch. Max was, too; she was just much more subtle. "How will we survive until then?"

"I think Steve brought a radio. We could play some music?"

"Perfect." Eddie huffed. "Can't wait to listen to his preppy, boring-"

"Eddie." You glared. "Next time you arrange this whole-" You gestured around you, trying to find the words. "Thing… and then you cook for everyone, you can decide what music is played. Alright?"

"Fine." He cowered under your stare. "I'm sure whatever he brought will suffice."

You admired the chef, who was wearing a very dapper apron that read 'Best Mom Ever.' A gag gift from Robin, you were sure. "You brought the radio, right?"

"It's in the big red bag, underneath the sparklers."

"I'm getting you a new apron, Harrington."

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrow. "What's it gonna say?"

"Kiss the chef."

His cheeks grew bright red, speechless as you walked away. You dug through the bag, pulling the radio out and playing the first cassette you found.

"Alright, you hooligans." Steve approached the table with a practically overflowing platter of hot dogs. "Eat up."

His thigh smashed against yours, relishing in his touch. "You're amazing."

"You're just saying that." He blushed.

"I'm not." You shook your head. "I swear."

"I love you." His voice was soft but steady. Confident in his affection. "Do you want to watermelon?" He grabbed a plate, placing your favorite bag of chips on top.

"Yes, please."

"Look at you two." Dustin teased. "So in love. It's revolting."

"Shut it twerp." Max knocked his hat off his head, effectively silencing them. "They're cute."

You grinned. "Thank you, Max."

"When are the fireworks starting?" Robin complained. "I don't know about you guys, but I don't particularly enjoy being outside in the dark with bugs and-"

The sky lit up, red sparkles cascading through the otherwise dark sky. You looked over, smiling at the look of wonder on your boyfriend's face. You kissed his cheek gently, brushing the lip gloss that had transferred off his skin. "Happy 4th."

His finger found its way under your chin, pulling your lips to his. "Happy 4th, baby."

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chefs-other-corner · 3 hours ago

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Glow In The Dark

☆Paring: Rumi x Zoey x Mira

☆Tags: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, cuddle partyyy ☆Sum Sum: Rumi is insecure of her marks because they glow, so both Zoey and Mira wear glow in the dark pjs ☆Word count: 0.8k

☆Note: This based of this post and there account is @apertureorange ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── The clock on the bedside table read 2:11 a.m., its red digits casting the faintest glow across the dorm bedroom. Everyone should have been asleep—yet Rumi lay rigid on her side, back to her girlfriends, eyes open and throat tight.

The reason pulsed gently across her skin.

Rumi’s demon markings—those delicate, swirling sigils that cut across her arms and collarbone—always glimmered faintly, but after night missions they flared brighter. Tonight they shimmered in tendrils of teal and gold, tracing her veins like constellations. She’d tried covering them with a long‑sleeve shirt, but the light bled through the cotton. She could feel it painting the dark walls, broadcasting here I am in neon punctuation.

They’re trying to sleep. What if it keeps them up? What if it’s… ugly?

A soft rustle behind her. Mira shifted, mumbling something about ramen in her dreams. Zoey’s breathing, usually a gentle snore, hitched—then settled again.

Rumi, don’t be ridiculous. Yet her chest ached with the thought that her body might be the very thing keeping the people she loved from resting.

Quietly, she slid off the mattress, grabbed her hoodie, and tip‑toed to the bathroom. She shut the door, flicked on the fan so no one would hear her sigh, and curled up on the little bath mat. Her glowing arms hugged her knees.

Zoey woke first, as usual, and immediately noticed the empty side of the bed—Rumi’s side. Panic pricked until she heard the bathroom door click open and saw Rumi creep back in like she’d never left. Under the hood, her eyes looked tired.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Zoey whispered, sitting up.

Rumi shrugged. “Didn’t want to disturb you guys.”

A beat. Zoey’s gaze dropped to the faint glow peeking at Rumi’s wrists. Understanding bloomed—and with it, a pang of hurt. Not because of the glow, but because Rumi thought she had to hide it.

Mira awoke next, hair a soft halo, blinking owlishly. Zoey’s eyes met hers over Rumi’s shoulder: We need to fix this. Mira nodded, instantly alert.

That afternoon Mira dragged Zoey downtown under the guise of “snack run.” They made a beeline for a quirky boutique that Mira swore sold “the cutest stuff that also happens to light up.” Rows of novelty sleepwear greeted them: stars that charged in daylight, lightning‑bolt socks, entire sets patterned with glow‑in‑the‑dark strawberries.

Mira lifted a pair of pastel PJs stamped with moons and little Korean captions that read “꿈나라” (Dreamland). The moons glowed mint green. “Perfect.”

Zoey grabbed a set with fluorescent dinosaurs, because why not. “Rumi loves the dino emojis I send. She’ll laugh.”

At checkout, Zoey added a small string of battery‑powered fairy lights. Mira squeezed her hand. Too much? Zoey mouthed. Mira shook her head. Perfect.

Rumi climbed into bed first, hoodie zipped like armor. She tried smiling as Zoey and Mira entered—until she noticed Zoey’s pants glowing T‑Rex bones across the room.

“What… are you wearing?” Rumi asked, half amused, half baffled.

“Luminous lizards, obviously,” Zoey said, striking a pose. Mira clicked off the main light; instantly their pajama patterns blossomed with soft radiance—pale jade moons on Mira, playful green dinos on Zoey.

“Ta‑da,” Mira said. “Glow squad.”

Rumi’s laugh slipped out despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

Zoey took Rumi’s hand, guiding her to sit. “You worry your markings are too bright, so we figured we’d level the playing field. Now the whole room’s a light show.”

Mira knelt, gently unzipping Rumi’s hoodie. “Can we see? Only if you’re comfy.”

Rumi’s pulse hammered. But with the soft affection in their voices—and the ridiculous pajamas glowing like cosmic pajamas-of-power—she nodded. The hoodie slid off, revealing her swirling patterns. Glimmer met glimmer.

Zoey’s breath caught, but not in annoyance; her eyes shone in the dim room like she was staring at a masterpiece. “Gorgeous.”

Mira traced a fingertip along one ribbon of light on Rumi’s forearm. “It’s like the aurora picked you specifically.”

Rumi’s throat tightened again—but this time with warmth. “You’re not… bothered?”

Zoey scoffed lightly, then clambered to the nightstand and switched on the fairy lights—tiny dots of sapphire and violet that joined the luminous chaos. “We’re accessorizing around you, babe.”

Mira added, “If you glow, we glow.”

They piled back into bed: Mira on Rumi’s left, Zoey on her right, fairy lights draped loosely over the headboard like stardust. The room became a planetarium of soft color.

Rumi lay very still for a moment, letting their steady breaths anchor her. Her patterns pulsed—once, twice—and then seemed to settle, as though soothed by acceptance.

“I love you both,” she whispered.

Zoey kissed her shoulder. “We know.”

Mira tucked her head under Rumi’s chin. “Sleep, firefly.”

And Rumi did—wrapped in pajamas that glowed, in arms that adored her, and in the unshakable certainty that nothing about her light would ever be too much for them.

#fanfic #polytrix #rumi x mira x zoey #ao3 fanfic #fluff #kpdh #kpop demon hunters #a dash of angst #light angst #hurt/comfort

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requiemdesreves · 2 days ago

Note

My lovee💖......

Please feed us with pt 3 of the caitlyn fic!!!❤️❤️

Party 4 u

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman x fem!reader word count: 4.2k a/n: final part and I’m lowkey heartbroken. Caitlyn’s one of my faves to write, so don’t worry—she’ll be back. this one’s smut with plot... like, a lot of plot. Basically plot with smut. my bad

The solitude of your house has always had an elegant echo. Your parents leave early and come back late, dressed for the world, carrying Council matters that don't fit on the dining table. They speak in different languages, and even when they're home, they're not always fully present. They don't kiss, don't touch, don't even wish each other good night. The distance in their love was the only thing you grew up with. You. Someone they've always seen more as a decorative piece in their home than as a daughter.

From a young age, you learned the art of not interrupting. You perfected every technique, from staying on the margins, observing, to disappearing without making a sound. You've learned to go days without speaking to another human being. Sometimes, even your own voice sounds strange when you use it. But none of this makes you sad: you've developed an intimate relationship with time. You had mastered the art of being invisible so perfectly that your parents were surprised when they heard the proposal that came out of your mouth.

“We should have a ball,” you said without thinking twice at dinner, the first one you'd had together in a long time, and you couldn't waste your chance.

“Excuse me?” your mother raised an eyebrow as she cut her meat, not seeing your point.

“A ball,” you repeated, “a masquerade. What do you think?”

Now your father looks at you as if you’d just said the most absurd thing in the world. You sigh and adjust in your seat, you’ve never asked your parents for anything, not help with your homework when you were in school, nor comfort on your sleepless nights. They give orders and you obey, never asking for anything in return. But there’s a first time for everything.

“You’ve mentioned several times that you’d like me to have a position on the Council in the future. How am I supposed to earn the trust of the people and the councilors if I spend all my time locked up in here? Caitlyn, for example, works with the Enforcers and is well known...if there’s only one spot in the future, who do you think they’ll give it to?”

You see your parents tense up and you suppress a victorious smile, no matter how friendly they are with the Kirammans, they’re like wolves, ready to attack if they sense someone threatening their ‘perfect family’ status.

“Cassandra and Tobias have made sure she’s well known, and I don’t know,” you shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “I thought you wanted the same for me.”

Your mother put her fork down with a sharp clatter on the plate. You said nothing. You never did at the first sign of anger.

“A ball?” she asked again, giving you a look that made you feel like the most foolish person in the universe. “Is that what you want? For people to talk about you like you’re just another debutante? For the town to think we’re frivolous?”

Your father didn’t lift his eyes from his plate, but his words struck sharply, precise as a scalpel. “I thought you understood better what’s expected of you.”

You took a deep breath, another thing you’d learned in this house was never to appear anxious, not even when defending yourself.

“I understand everything,” you corrected him, your heart threatening to burst from your chest, but you held yourself steady. “That’s why I’m proposing it. Not as a party, but as a symbolic act. We can invite the noble houses, some councilors.”

Your words hung in the air like an offer on the table. Your parents knew politics. So did you. You’d learned by watching them live with eyes fixed on reports and ears tuned to rumors. Your father finally looked up. His expression was harsh, flawless.

“And what do you expect to gain from this?”

“Presence,” you said simply, without embellishment. “Not just a surname filed away until further notice. I want them to see me, so they’ll listen to me later.”

A heavy silence settled, not the usual dinner silence, but a different one. One that weighed and considered. You looked at them both, expectant. Your mother didn’t seem willing to give in. She knew you: that intense fire behind your gaze, the sly curve of your lips, you’d practiced all day not to give yourself away, but she was your mother and, however absent, far too observant for your liking.

Your father took a slow sip of wine. Finally, he spoke. “One event. Discreet. No extravagance. No rumors, no sentimentality. If anything leaks badly, there won’t be a second chance. Ever.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes. “And no improvising. I want the guest list. The alliances you hope to strengthen. And the names that shouldn’t be seen in the same room. Tomorrow. Before noon.”

You nodded, measuring every millimeter of your expression. Because in this house, victory wasn’t celebrated. It was quietly recorded. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“Don’t thank us,” your mother replied, turning back to her plate. “Do it right. Or don’t try again.”

The big night had arrived. Your usually silent house was now alive with the sound of violins, crystal glasses, and delicate laughter. Everything so carefully orchestrated. Piltover’s high society moved among golden masks, lace fans, and dresses that shimmered like mirages. It was the event of the year.

And you were the hostess.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips as you looked down from above. It wasn’t your moment to enter yet, so you simply watched from the second floor. Everyone seemed pleased with the event, your parents smiled every time someone approached to praise them and ask why they had kept you silent for so long. They were happy, the councilors too, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Your eyes searched for her eagerly, but she wasn’t there. Caitlyn hadn’t arrived. Her parents were present, but she wasn’t.

You sighed, a little disappointed. It had been a long time since you’d seen her, months, really. The last time you spoke was the day she came to visit you, that afternoon in your room when your mother almost opened the door and caught you together, your bodies entwined, sweaty from shared passion. Since then, she suggested putting some distance between you, ignoring you on the streets, at high society events, your letters—everything. You had tricked your parents with the masquerade ball, swearing it would be a political event, without sentimentality, but the way your heart clenched at not seeing her, how quickly tears wet your lashes. Right now, you wanted to end it all, go to your room, and cry for hours. But you couldn’t, not after your parents had agreed to the event.

“Dear,” your mother’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. She sounded pleased. Pleased with you, something you rarely saw. “It’s time for your entrance. Remember what we practiced. You have everything under control.”

You nodded and sighed, trying to calm your nerves and the disappointment you felt. At that moment, all eyes were on you, waiting for you to slip up, to give them something to talk about, but you didn’t. You walked with your head held high and a confidence you didn’t even know you had. Your dress was emerald green with an open back that spoke without words. Your black mask covered just enough, leaving your lips curved in a dangerously inviting smile.

For a few minutes, you focused on talking with everyone your parents suggested, until you saw her. Caitlyn Kiramman. Standing beside a group of young heirs, a glass in her hand, back straight. Impeccable. Reserved. True to herself. She wore a sober dark blue suit with subtle details, her mask barely an elegant outline. Every glance she attracted was a silent bow. But her eyes weren’t seeking the crowd’s approval.

They were looking for you.

When your eyes met, she gave you a brief smile, one you didn’t return. You wanted to see her, yes, but to torment her, to ignore her just as she had ignored you. You approached her slowly, measured, as if the ballroom were your personal runway. Joining the group with a light laugh, you stood beside her and greeted everyone with calculated charm. You spoke to all of them, the playful son of the Minister of Commerce, the haughty cousin of the police chief. Everyone. Except her. As the conversation continued, you noticed her jaw tighten, but you paid it no mind, immersed in the moment, enjoying her irritation.

As people in the group thinned out, her hand slid lightly down your back, as if afraid to break you. You were talking to the son of the Minister of Progress, who was openly flirting with you. Your eyes traveled to Caitlyn, who wasn’t looking at you, taking a sip of her wine while her hand slid down to your ass and squeezed gently.

You excused yourself politely and began to walk toward a deserted area, knowing Caitlyn would follow.

It was a side hallway, between golden columns and discreet shadows. Her hand found yours, not violently, but urgently.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice low and tense.

You pulled away roughly, angry. “So now you can talk to me?”

Caitlyn frowned, not answering immediately. Her gaze was that of a hunter, but there was guilt in her voice. “Princess,” she began softly. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. It’s that if she had caught us that night…”

“What does it matter?” you interrupted. “Is it really so important for you to be the Kiramman’s perfect daughter?”

Caitlyn sighed, knowing that if you both got upset, the conversation would go nowhere. “This isn’t just about me, my love.” The softness in her tone irritated you. How could she be so calm after months apart? “You have an image too. A name. You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand, Caitlyn. I just don’t care.”

“I do.” She answered, lowering her head, avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with her hands, growing uneasy. “I’ve worked my whole life for this, and so have my parents.”

Her words hung in the air. You crossed your arms, as if your own body tried to hold back the pain. You looked at her, and for a moment you didn’t see the determined officer, nor the perfect daughter, nor the woman who made you promises in whispers in the dark of your room. You saw a girl still afraid of disappointing her mother.

“And what was I then, Caitlyn?” you ask, your voice low but broken. “An accident? A distraction from your responsibilities?”

She looks up sharply, hurt. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” You take a step toward her. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? You love me only when no one’s watching. When you can pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not pretending anything with you,” her voice cracks. “What I felt for you… what I feel, was never a lie. But you don’t know what it’s like to have to choose between what you love and what the world expects of you.”

You laugh, sarcastic. “Of course I know. I do it every day. I just chose to love you. You. Even if it cost me.”

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a second. Then she steps toward you slowly, as if afraid you might break.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to come find you,” she confesses. “How many times I stood outside your door, too scared to knock. Not because I didn’t want you. But because I knew that if I went in, I’d never be able to leave.”

“And is that so bad?” you whisper.

“Let’s keep it a secret,” she suggests. “It’s the only way to protect what we have. For now. It’s not ideal, but it’s all we can do.”

“No. It’s not the only way. There’s another option.”

She raises an eyebrow, confused. You, on the other hand, walk back toward the ballroom. Caitlyn follows you again and now, in front of everyone, you say:

“Kiss me, Caitlyn.” You don’t give her time to refuse and keep speaking: “Do it here, in front of everyone. If you don’t, don’t ever look for me again. Ever.”

Her face changes. It tightens, pale. The silence between you thickens like smoke from a candle just blown out. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” you answer without blinking. “All or nothing.”

The doubt in her eyes lasts only a few seconds. Then something breaks. And something stronger takes its place. Caitlyn moves toward you, her fingers trembling as they brush your face, her heart pounding so loudly she can barely hear the whisper of her own conscience. She knows what this means. She knows what it will cost her. But she also knows she can’t take the distance anymore. The pretending. The punishment of loving you only in the shadows.

She slowly lifts your mask and kisses you. It’s a firm kiss, full of rage and need, of restrained tenderness and fierce resolve. A kiss that sets the silence on fire. Her hand on your waist pulls you close with force, while her other hand rests on your cheek. The entire ballroom freezes.

Whispers die out. Every gaze falls on you both. You try to pull away, wanting to see their reactions, but Caitlyn doesn’t care, not now. With a growl, she grabs you by the neck and pulls you back, her tongue demanding entrance that you immediately grant. She devours your mouth, claiming you as hers. You clutch her suit, returning the kiss with equal intensity.

Your mother stands up abruptly. Your father, red with fury, clenches his fist tightly. “What the hell is this?!” he shouts, losing all composure.

Cassandra rises, her face completely pale, lips a thin line of pure disapproval. “Caitlyn Kiramman,” she says with deadly coldness. “What kind of behavior is this?”

But Caitlyn remains unfazed. She only pulls away enough to look around the room, still holding your hand. “The only behavior that seems genuine tonight.”

Her father watches you both with a neutral expression. He says nothing. Doesn’t defend her, but doesn’t condemn her either. He simply accepts.

You, lips still warm from the kiss, turn to your own parents. The disappointment and fury on their faces don’t surprise you. But it no longer matters. Because for the first time, you and Caitlyn are on the same side. Exposed. United. Real.

Your mother approaches, pulling you away from Caitlyn and digging her nails into your arm. You struggle to break free, but her anger is stronger than you. “Is this what you choose? To destroy the name we worked so hard to give you?”

“I’m not destroying anything,” you reply, still trying to free yourself. “I’m done pretending.”

“You can’t be that naive!” she loses her composure, shouting without caring who hears. “Do you think anyone will marry you after this? Do you think you can still be part of this city?”

“I don’t care if I can marry or not. I’ve already found who I love.”

She looks at you with such pain that for a second it hurts you too. But you don’t apologize. Not this time. Your father, however, is not subtle.

“Effective immediately, your funding is suspended. Your events. Your travels. I will not contribute to dragging our name through the mud.”

Then the only person who has been silent throughout the whole ordeal speaks: Tobias Kiramman, calm as ever.

“I remind you that the council members are watching us,” he whispers before continuing: “I know this has been… unexpected, but before we let this moment turn into a scandal, I ask you to breathe. To think.”

Both your parents and Cassandra seem confused but do not interrupt. He goes on:

“We are talking about two exceptional young women. Brave, brilliant, with a strong sense of duty and justice. Aren’t those exactly the qualities we’ve always wanted in our daughters and their companions?”

Noticing the anger in your mother’s eyes, he gives her a calm look, making her release you.

“You have built a respected, influential house. So have we. This relationship is not a threat, but an alliance. A union of two powerful families not imposed by convenience, but born from a genuine bond. Isn’t that a sign of renewal? Of progress?”

Tobias turns to his wife with a reassuring smile and speaks again:

“My dear…” The tone he uses sounds familiar, the same Caitlyn uses when she calls you “my love.” You smile at the resemblance. “You have always defended the integrity of our daughter. Her ability to decide. And isn’t this also a brave decision? Proof that our daughters carry in their blood the same strength that brought us here? We spent years preparing them to be strong, independent, determined. And now that they are, we’re scared.”

You see your parents exchange a look, weighing his words, then look to Cassandra, lost in thought, and finally to you and Caitlyn. Your mother speaks now:

“You caused a scandal in front of the council members, the ministers, and others. That’s unacceptable.” She sighs. “But I suppose Tobias is right. We raised them to marry someone important, we never specified who that had to be. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we’ll discuss this. No excuses, no hesitation. As a mother, I demand to know all the details about my daughter’s… relationship.”

You smile and look at Caitlyn, who seems as surprised as you. Cassandra speaks again, noticing the eagerness on your faces:

“You may go, girls. Do it before I change my mind.”

Caitlyn wastes no time, taking your hand and, with nervous giggles, guiding you up the stairs to your room. Her hands still tremble, yours too. Once inside, you lock the door and throw yourself into your beloved’s arms, kissing her passionately. Now that you’re no longer angry, now that your parents know about you, you allow yourself to enjoy the kiss.

Her hands caress your body as her lips move against yours. Caitlyn is the first to break the kiss, traveling down to your neck, biting and leaving open-mouthed kisses that quicken your heart.

“I missed you,” she whispers, and her words make you laugh softly between your teeth.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you whisper, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. “You’re incredible, Caitlyn Kiramman. You made me convince my parents to do a ball just so I could see you.”

She smiles, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes, her gaze drunk with love, with you. “You’re no saint, princess. You made me come out of the closet in front of all of Piltover.”

“Sorry,” you say nervously. “I don’t know what got into me. It was crazy, really, it’s just—”

Caitlyn cuts you off with a soft peck. “It’s over, darling. We got through it unscathed. Well, there’s the meeting tomorrow, but if they didn’t kill us today, they won’t tomorrow.”

“What do you think they’ll say?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “But I don’t want to know either. We’re alone now…” Her hands roam your body again, playing with the ribbons of your corset. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, and believe me, it’s becoming physically impossible to be apart.”

She starts to slowly undo your corset, never breaking eye contact, as if daring you rather than giving you space to say no.

Your hands move to the buttons of her suit, fumbling a bit as you work on each one. You both laugh softly, desperate to be close. When your corset falls to the floor, Caitlyn watches you for a few seconds that feel endless before pressing her lips to yours again. You respond with fiery passion. Your feet carry you toward your bed, and Caitlyn follows your lead. Without realizing it, you’re straddling her lap, lips locked in a desperate kiss, hands exploring every curve of her body. You missed her more than you’d ever admit.

Caitlyn’s hands rest on your hips, gently guiding you to grind against her. The moan that escapes your lips makes her smile against them. You feel a bulge in her pants and pull away from the kiss, confused. Caitlyn seems pleased with your reaction, then whispers:

“I’ll make up for all the time we couldn’t spend together.” She says, and with an unexpected move, grabs your neck to kiss you again. You gasp between her lips, surprised by how desperate she looks and how good it feels. Your hips start moving on their own, throwing whatever little sanity you had out the window. You’re both still dressed from the waist down, but that won’t last long.

You kneel beside her on the bed, trembling fingers undoing the button of her pants. She lifts her hips to help you. The sight before you makes your pussy clench against nothing. Caitlyn, with her polished, political face, had been wearing a strap-on under her expensive suit all night.

“For whom were you wearing that?” you ask sarcastically as you watch her finish removing her pants, letting them drop to the floor. You work on the pieces that once made up your dress, your underwear, everything. “We were supposed to be apart. Why did you come prepared?”

“I’ve got my own little transport service now,” Caitlyn replies with a crooked smile. “Want a ride, my love?”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling her take you again by the hips and settle you, guiding herself inside you with ease. You’re already so wet that her size makes you moan in a dirty, raw, needy way. You start slow—it’s been a long time since you last saw her, and you try to get used to the feeling. Caitlyn’s hips follow yours every time you rise. You roll your eyes, lost in the slow movements and the way her cock drags over every swollen spot inside you.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so well, princess. Keep going.” Caitlyn encourages softly. You moan louder and louder, mentally thanking yourself for hiring a band for the whole night, otherwise, all of Piltover would be hearing Caitlyn fuck you.

Her hand cups one of your breasts, kneading it, playing with your nipple. Your movements speed up, craving more of her, of how good she feels inside you, hitting your sweet spots, making you bounce on her strap like your life depends on it. Your thighs tremble, your whole body does.

“Caitlyn, fuck,” your words turn clumsy on your tongue. “I’m cumming.”

“Come for me, darling,” she replies with a low growl. Her fingers leave your nipple and move to your clit, circling it with her thumb, making you feel things you thought you couldn’t feel before. You’ve had sex with her before, but this time it feels different—freer, wilder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat, letting yourself fall onto her, searching for something to hold onto. Your hips move—up, down—and you feel her inside you, in and out, deeper and rougher each time. The wet sounds of your pussy and the whimpers escaping your lips fill the room.

“You sound so good, so fucking good,” Caitlyn praises you sweetly and sincerely. The insistence of her thumb makes you shiver. “You’re mine. Mine to see and touch, to want and feel. I love you so much, princess. I can’t wait to see the life waiting for us.”

That promise made you come immediately, with a barely audible moan. Caitlyn strokes your back, leaving soft kisses on your cheeks. Sweet words fall from her mouth, but you don’t understand them at all. You both feel tired. The stress you’d carried for so long disappears. She seems to notice and cuddles you to her chest, stroking your hair reverently.

“Sleep, darling. I’m not leaving, okay?” Caitlyn soothes you with love, but you shake your head.

“I’m sticky and dirty,” you complain in what sounds like a mumble, making Caitlyn laugh softly.

“And what am I here for? I’ll clean you while you sleep, with love and care. That’s all my princess deserves.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Caitlyn gives you a gentle kiss on the head. “Good night, my love. Dream of angels.”

That night, the scandal spread through Piltover like wildfire in the wind, but you didn’t notice. You dreamed of a family, children with your eyes and Caitlyn’s smile. You dreamed of family afternoons, rainy nights curled up together, a wedding. You no longer sought acceptance, or to break the silence, or to be someone important. Now you sought the future you always wanted, the one you both planned on a sunny afternoon when you were little, when kisses were innocent games and touches awoke something in you you didn’t know before, and that you can’t live without now, because that’s who she is. Caitlyn Kiramman.

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bartonomy · 1 day ago

Text

A WHOLE LOT OF NOTHING!

PAIRING barty crouch junior x rosier!reader

SYNOPSIS on the verge of getting your ass whooped by your parents, you take the help of the, oh well, local maniac!

CONTENT WARNING purely crack, girlfailure reader, idk what im doing! fem gryffindor reader, floral nicknames, dialogue heavy, barty needs help i think! fluff, not proofread, kinda filler drabble!

WORD COUNT 0.9k

library.

You’re sitting in the Slytherin common room, trying to convince yourself that Arithmancy is somehow not an evil joke designed to make you cry in public, when Pandora plops down beside you, looking annoyingly cheerful.

You’re already regretting this. It’s only been twelve seconds.

“I don’t need tutoring,” you muttered through gritted teeth, gripping the strap of your pristine bag like it owes you money.

“You failed your last three Arithmancy assignments,” Pandora said serenely, looking at the ceiling like a fairy oracle of doom. “And you put down ‘time is fake’ for the answer to Question Four on the theory exam.”

“Because it is.”

“Barty will help,” Evan swooped in, apparently teleported by sibling radar. “He’s top of the year for a reason, Daisy.”

“He’s unhinged.”

“He’s passionate.”

“He brought a dead rat to Potions class to ‘test a theory.’” you deadpanned, running a tired habd through your face.

“It was for science!” a voice yelled from behind you.

You whirled around, dread already flowing through your body.

There he is. Your sleep paralysis demon himself (No, literally. You once woke up with him somehow standing at the foot of your Gryffindor bed at 4 am). Raccoon hair wild, tie askew, ink stains on both hands and also, inexplicably, his neck.

He looked thrilled to be here. You considered jumping into the black lake head first.

“You ready to LEARN, STUDENT?” he roared with the same energy as someone who has just drunk a full cauldron of coffee and might be about to set something on fire.

“No,” you said flatly. Gosh, how many galleons would it take to bribe Professor Vector into giving you an O?

“Perfect,” he grins. “Let’s begin.”

You’re not sure where the tutoring session was supposed to be, but Barty immediately lead you to the third floor girls’ bathroom.

“I dont know if you're aware, Crouch,” you said, stopping short. “This is a girls' laboratory, and also where Myrtle haunts. Why are we here? What does this possibly have to do with Arithmancy?”

“Peace. Privacy. Excellent acoustics.”

“Acoustics? We’re doing equations.”

“I chant when I concentrate.” he nodded with utmost sincerity.

“…I want to go home.”

“You’re at Hogwarts.”

“Exactly.”

Barty pulled out a textbook that’s clearly been dropped in a pond at some point, opened it to a completely blank page, and said, “So. What’s the square root of a Gringott’s curse modifier when divided by a leyline fluctuation index?”

“That cannot be a real question.”

“Everything’s a question if you’re brave enough.” he sighed with false disappointment.

“Are you high?”

“Well, only on knowledge and a dash of you, little Rosie.”

You looked at him. He’s already halfway through drawing a pentagram on the floor with a sugar quill.

“I’m telling McGonagall,” you said.

“You’ll be thanking me when you pass your next exam,” Barty replied, lighting a small candle with Incendio and tossing it under the nearest sink. “Knowledge is pain.”

Your eye twitched. “That’s not the expression.”

"Celery or whatever Reggie says"

He opened a new book, this one appears to be hand-bound with string and labeled ‘Barty’s Notes – DO NOT TOUCH unless you are Barty or Santos Santa’.

“You don’t need to worry about the fire,” he added casually, scribbling down symbols with his overdipped quill. “Bathroom tiles are flame proof. Definitely. Probably.”

You backed away slightly, already distributing your assets to every single sane bloke you know.

“Today’s session,” he says, “is on numerical ward collapse. Incredibly useful. Also illegal in seventeen countries.”

“I’m twelve.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“Feels like twelve when you talk.”

“Well, thank you, Daisy May.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know,” he grinned. “Now hold still.”

You instinctively ducked just as he throws a piece of chalk at your head. It explodes against the wall with a loud crack and released a glowing symbol that looked… suspiciously like a goat?

“What the bloody hell was that?!”

“Calibrating your magical aura, my dear disciple.”

“You hit me with a freaking goat.”

“Near you.”

“WHY is the goat still hovering??”

Barty squinted at it thoughtfully. “Huh. That’s new. Anyways, let’s do some equations!”

“So, if you take the leyline coefficient-”

“Which is?”

“You’d know if you were paying attention-”

“I am! I just can’t listen while I’m actively having a panic attack.”

“Good! Stress sharpens the mind. This is educational.”

“YOU JUST BLEW A HOLE IN THE SINK.”

“It was for demonstration purposes.”

“The water is flooding the floor.”

“Hydration is essential.”

You gave him the blankest stare you could muster. “You are Evan’s friend. You are Pandora’s friend. I am going to tell Mum what you’ve done.”

"Please", He snorted. “Your mum adores me.”

“She thinks you’re ‘weird and jittery’ and once asked if you had rabies.”

“She laughed when she said that!”

“She was holding garlic.”

“Listen,” Barty said seriously, crouching down like a manic goblin in too-long robes, “I can teach you how to feel the numbers. Don’t calculate. Breathe. Accept the equation into your soul.”

You blinked. “You need help.”

“I am help.”

You’re about to bolt when Barty clapped his hands.

“Time for flashcards!” he announced, holding up what is very clearly a shuffled tarot deck from Pandora.

“Those are not flashcards.”

“Tell that to the Ministry,” he muttered, flipping one over. “This one means ‘death’- which reminds me, if your magical signature doesn’t match the rune circle in exactly three minutes, the floor may implode.”

You just stared at him.

He grinned.

You pulled out your quill and immediately started writing.

BOOM!

You stormed into the common room with wild eyes, a soaked robe, and possibly the lingering scent of burnt toothpaste.

“Why,” you demanded, breath still short “did you make me do that?”

Pandora, on the floor surrounded by floating teacups, looks up serenely. “Did you learn anything?”

“Yes.”

“See?”

“I learned that Barty Crouch is clinically unfit to be near school supplies.”

Evan looked up from his chessboard, raising a brow. “Did he try the goat spell again?"

“I have seventeen mosquito bites and no idea how to add fractions now.”

Pandora smiled. “So productive, daisy!”

You hissed.

#did yall miss me #this came to me in a dream LMFAO #barty crouch jr fic #barty crouch jr fluff #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch junior #barty crouch junior fic #barty crouch junior x reader #barty crouch junior imagine #barty crouch x reader #the marauders x you #the marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders era

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coolwyous · 2 days ago

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how would hockey daddy dani and y/n react to the other doing "calling my ex wife/husband to say goodnight" trend after esme little sneaky self convinced them too 😼

trend for reference:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8heovUq/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8hdJRSf/

THIS IS SO GOOD HOL ON HOL ON!!!! i'm picturing esme in like late elementary/early middle school

with dani: esme would 100% just go for it and run into her bed one night and be like "papi will you please please please do this tik tok trend w me 🥺" before even telling her what it is and dani immediately goes "of course mi amor, what is it?" bc once again she has never told that little girl no not oNCE in her life and esme is cheesing so big like "will you call mami to say good night?" and dani just BURSTS out laughing like "baby i can try but your mom does not wanna hear it" 😁 you see an incoming call from her at like 9p and you assume it's about esme so you pick up and are just like "what do you want, daniela?" and when you hear "just calling to say good night.... what, i can't wish you good night any more? you hate me or something?" you immediately roll your eyes bc your baby daddy is back on this bullshit 🥴 "no you cannot, we are divorced, goodbye" and you hang up!!

with you: esme is a little more cautious! doesn't want to make you upset by asking bc she's so sweet and empathetic and she's well aware of how annoyed you get w dani at the custody swaps so it's actually JOSIE (megan's daughter) who is over at a sleepover and convinces both of you!! "AUNTIE Y/N NO I SWEAR IT'LL BE SO FUNNY, PLEASE PLEASE!" she'd beg, and since megan was always lowkey your favorite, and esme is blinking at you w her big hopeful eyes, you can't bring yourself to let the girls down no sir 🙂‍↕️ you won't admit how nervous you are dialing her number, but the girls are watching so excitedly and you can't break their hearts by not following through w it....

dani picks up and is immediately like "y/n, everything okay?" instantly going into dad mode bc she knows you don't call her casually like that and it lowkey makes your heart thud..... she's so good to esme it's undeniable how good she is of a parent! "yeah, everything's okay. just calling to wish you a good night." and immediately hearing "ohhh it's one of those nights, i see" and you can already HEAR the smirk and it's so irritating! you're like "daniela, the girls are here" to warn her to behave and she doesn't miss a beat, "perfect, i've been wanting a family movie night, i can be over in 5, you know how i like my popcorn" and you are just rolling your eyes but the girls are SQUEALING laughing as they watch the two of you go back and forth and daniela wastes NO TIME in flirting w you incessantly.

you guys small talk and daniela is truly relentless. you complain about the heater in your house being broken and dani's instantly like "yeah, i can fix that for you" and the girls think nothing of it but you know her better than that and she is truly pissing u off but part of you can't help but smile! if there's one thing abt dani she never gives up and that annoying smooth talker is always going to somehow bring you back to being a naive college girl who had a stupid crush on the hockey captain with a bad rep...... you finally end the call after the two of you have been chatting for like 20 mins with a "again, good night, daniela" and she signs off with something stupid like "it'll always be a good night when i hear your voice. sweet dreams, mami" and the last thing she hears is the girls SCREAMING in your ear, emse being like "oh god why does papi get like that i'm sorry mami" and josie is just like "AUNTIE DANI IS STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU AUTNIE Y/N PLEASE GET MARRIED AGAIN"

now u gotta wrangle these two little goofballs into bed and worry about what this means for you later...... ignoring all the feelings that hearing dani's husky voice calling you by a pet name brings up for you! you make a mental note to never do a tik tok trend involving ur ex wife ever again!!

bonus: dani calling megan IMMEDIATELY afterwards and being like "i think your daughter is about to get me and my ex-wife back together, i'm buying her a motorcycle for her bday as a thank you and you WILL NOT be stopping me" and hangs up immediately, leaving poor little daddy meiyok in a panic but also lowkey happy that the door is cracked open bc she loved u and dani together <3

#☆ﾟ dittoverse thoughts.

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m-robinavitch · 5 hours ago

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Thinking about being taken care of by Jack Abbot in this chilis tonight.

But- okay so we covered the lovely idea that @v-wie-was gave me about Jack making chicken noodle soup from scratch here. But I would say that the man goes as far as to feed it to you. He’s wrapped you up in blankets- practically burrito styled on the couch and can’t move your arms so he sits in front of you and gives you spoonfuls of the perfect soup he made. Blows the heat away to make sure you don’t burn yourself.

Now we know Jack was in the army and I like to think he’s more cultured than the typical American GI. He has remedies from all over that are tried and true.

He makes you garlic, ginger and oregano tea with pepper flakes and honey and lemon that a sweet Brazilian lady made him once when he couldn’t shake a cough. It was hard to swallow at first but dammit if that cough didn’t subside hours later.

When the cough makes it hard to sleep he steeps some milk and adds honey and cognac like one of his army buddies would make- just like his mom did. Maybe the alcohol knocks you out more than anything but it’s the best sleep you had in days after you got sick.

When you were too sick to even chew chicken noodle soup he makes a softer lentil soup that a host from Palestine made him after he had a stomach bug and couldn’t keep anything down other than water. It was warm and comforting and like your husband in a bowl.

He makes you sit in a warm bath with epsom salts like one of his army buddies German grandmother would make them do for a fever and energy boost- all while rubbing vapor rub on your back and chest.

He keeps track of when you need to take your medicine, writes down your temperature to track your fevers. Wakes up in the middle of the night to rotate your sleep position so no congestion can build up.

He holds you against him in a steamy shower with the essential oils he’s dripped around the floor so you can inhale eucalyptus and mint as he rubs your back to help break up any congestion.

He runs around the house making sure the temperature is perfect, you have water to hydrate, you’re wrapped up in blankets, your pillows are fluffed that you whine to him sometimes that this is all perfect but you just need him. You want to lay in his arms and sleep your meds off while attempting to inhale his scent in through your stuffy nose. You like his warm strong arms around you. Sometimes he worries a little too much- it’s the doctor in him. But sometimes despite all the wonderful remedies- the perfect medicine is just Jack Abbot.

#my random typings #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x you #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot #dr abbot x you #I have been given these remedies personally by friends #and dammit they fucking work

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nerdygaymormon · 13 hours ago

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My friend Mark Melville recently posted on his blog a number of thoughtful question and statements to explain why he doesn't agree with the LDS Church's current teachings and policies regarding LGBTQIA+ people. They’re so good that I wanted to share them.

As a young person, the message I got was that I was inherently bad if I was attracted to boys. The messaging has changed over the course of my life (thankfully), so if it has changed already, why can't it change more? The current messaging is "It's OK as long as you don't act on it." But "just don't act on it" is always going to make people feel broken or defective. I don't see how it could not.

More and more people are coming out—young people are coming out as teenagers, and older people in mixed-orientation marriages are coming out, and everyone in between is coming out. As long as the messaging is simultaneously "You need to fall in love and get married" and also "You're not allowed to fall in love and get married," this issue is not going to go away—no matter how many times you throw a family proclamation at it.

The people who make the rules for gay and trans people are themselves neither gay nor trans. And the people who are obsessed with enforcing the rules are neither gay nor trans.

The Family Proclamation (which isn't even canonized) says, "Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose." Since 2019, Church leaders have said that "gender" here means sex at birth. But here's the thing: Intersex people exist. There are people whose sex at birth, their physical body, is not quite male or female. If everyone's sex at birth is their eternal gender, then gender is not a binary in eternity. But if eternal gender is a binary, and intersex people are an exception in mortality, why can't trans people be an exception in mortality as well?

Even if it is true that everyone's sex at birth is their eternal gender, why do they have to live according to their eternal gender in mortality? We don't tell people, "You will have perfect vision in the Resurrection, so you can't have corrective eye surgery in mortality," or "You will have all your limbs in eternity, so don't use a prosthetic on earth."

One of Dallin H. Oaks's pet ideas is that queer people should "take the long view," meaning they should live in the way that will take them to the best version of eternity as taught by the Church. But we know virtually nothing about eternity. So in reality, "taking the long view" means to think about living with inner conflict and tension for decades and decades, just to gain rewards in an eternity that may or may not exist. For many people, this just makes them want to skip mortality and go straight to eternity.

There are many things the Church used to teach were sins, or at least not good, such as interracial marriage, mothers working outside the home, and women wearing pants in public. These things are no longer taught (thankfully!).

The Family Proclamation emphasizes a particular kind of nuclear family, with a mother, father, and children. This is a great kind of family; it's the family I come from. But I worry that this emphasis can be hurtful for people with different kinds of families. That includes not just queer families but any family that has been touched by death, divorce, adoption, and other circumstances.

The scriptures are full of family structures that do not follow this pattern. On the cross, Jesus told Mary and John "Behold thy mother" and "behold thy son." Ruth and Naomi had no obligation to stick together. Abraham and others practiced polygamy. And the family of Jacob/Israel was anything but traditional.

In grad school, I had a very lesbian professor who talked about her children and grandchildren. Then I think about straight people I know who are terrible parents. I can guarantee that my lesbian professor's family life is more stable and loving than that of some straight people I know. There are so many loving families with two moms or two dads. Does God really think the righteous thing is to split these families apart?

Anti-LGBTQ ideas are often framed as "defending the family." But they don't "defend the family" at all. If I marry a man, it will not negatively impact anyone else or their family.

You know what are actual threats to the family? When people feel forced to enter mixed-orientation marriages that end in divorce and heartbreak. When people are murdered for being who they are. When people die by suicide because they don't see a place for themselves. When people are disowned by their families for being who they are.

A man paying for a female prostitute is very different from a man and a woman getting married, and the Church rightfully distinguishes between them. A man paying for a male prostitute is also very different from a man marrying a man, yet the Church lumps them together—and if anything, it treats the marriage as the worse thing.

If God's plan can be thwarted by two dudes getting hitched, then God's plan is incredibly fragile.

In my anecdotal observation, LGBTQ+ folks are among the most devout Church members. For example, in one of my YSA wards, someone told me that another individual in the ward was the best person in the ward, and then I was next. (Those weren't his exact words, but that was the gist.) I wasn't offended, because I agreed that the other person was the best person in the ward. But it turns out that individual is also gay. What does it say that the best people in our wards are gay, and then there's not a place for the best people?

The expectation for straight people is to get married. The expectation for gay people is to stay single. There is already a rule that applies to straight people that doesn't apply to gay people. So if we already have rules that apply to some and not to others, what if the rule that "marriage is only between a man and a woman" is also a rule that applies to straight people but not to gay people?

The rule that "marriage is only between a man and a woman" seems to exist only because gay people exist. Why would God create gay people, and then make a rule that they can’t be in love, even as everyone else is encouraged to be? Or why would he make a rule, then create people whose natural orientation is to go against it? And if he did make such a rule, why would I think that such a being was merciful and good and worthy of my worship? Boyd K. Packer himself acknowledged this when he said "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?"

In the early days of the Church, they practiced many kinds of sealings. People were sealed to each other not just as marriages but in various relationships. Many of these were known as adoption sealings, where grown men could be sealed to Church leaders. I don't know what the reality of sealings will be, but I think there's room for a more expansive vision of sealings than the one we have today.

#mark melville #queerstake #tumblrstake

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fullset-o-lovers · 2 days ago

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who wants to hear about derek aubergine and amanda wilson being twins. who wants to hear about “why does your boyfriend look like my girlfriend” “why does your girlfriend look like my boss”. who wants to hear about clarissa suzanne and the wilsons moving to the uk after her mom’s death.

and who wants to hear how that fits into the O’Hands Everything Store :>

~~~

btw Derek is seventeen minutes older than Amanda. that’s very important (to him)

derek is older. derek is very importantly older than amanda. he’s older and it matters

amanda is taller though, and derek hates it

derek moved to the uk for uni

he calls his family weekly. they have pizza over video call

derek loves him family very much. after his mom left, the three of them (derek, amanda, and mr. wilson) got really close

amanda calls derek “little brother”

he hates it

ITS ONLY AND INCH, AMANDA, SHUT UP

obv mr. wilson misses his son, but he’s glad to see him thriving in devon

mr. wilson tries to meddle in derek’s love life

mr. wilson calls titch derek’s boyfriend

amanda finally meets titch on vc. cue “why does your boyfriend look like my girlfriend?” “why does your girlfriend look like my boss”

titch ignores it

james and amanda are besties fr once she moves

james (knocks to come into the outside) scares amanda

“why tf is mark here”

“uhhh hi? i’m james?”

once amanda gets over the initial shock, they’re besties tho

james sucks at names, amanda sucks at faces. gossip between them is harder to follow than a gaggle of geese

first, derek moves to devon (the town this all takes place), then the events of diwedding take place (but mark and clarissa break up before the marriage) explaining derek’s absence during the play. after the death of mrs. jenkins, clarissa decides she needs a fresh start, so amanda and clarissa move to devon together. amanda and derek persuade their dad, mr wilson to move with them.

Clarissa being like "hey guys I'm back! I went to that little shop in town, and it's just the best! [Insert Clarissa gushing about how the store is super cool and how they have everything you could ever want there and how the owners are super nice and friendly]" and Derek looks at her with EXTREME CONCERN and tentatively asks what store she's referring to. Because as much as he knows that it has the be the OES, her description is WOEFULLY CONCERNING relative to his (and everyone else's) experiences. Hes just kinda there thinking to himself "we can't possible be talking about the same place..."

clarissa was just enjoying the moment and not worrying about the *extremely worrying* goings on. And Derek is there like "girl, 'friendly and welcoming' are not the first words that come to my mind to describe those people..."

derek: did you meet their sons?

clarissa: i did! they were sweethearts

[narrator voice] clarissa did not realize the o’hands brothers were also lovers

(Clarissa loves the store itself as well because it's the perfect place to shop for her favorite hobby. You can find supplies for any DIY project there, no matter how weird or niche). and the prices are *much* better than hobby stores so her adhd ass can pick up any hobby she likes without breaking the bank. mama and papa o’hands just adore her

Derek is deeply worried by how she does not seem the least bit weirded out by the whole situation. Amanda, having heard equally weird but wildly conflicting accounts of the place from Clarissa and Derek, decides she doesn't even want to know lol

clarissa comes back from her weekly trip and talks to derek about it and amanda just leaves the room.

Amanda, walking out of the room as Derek and Clarissa discuss the O'Hands: "nope, I dont even wanna know".

amanda: [kissing clarissa on the cheek and grabbing her keys] i’m gonna go help dad at the restaurant

derek: ITS CLOSED ON TUESDAYS, YOU LIAR

amanda doesn’t wanna make Clarissa feel bad about talking about her experience. But she cannot mentally handle hearing about the o’hands

#derek the unrelenting aubergine #amanda wilson #clamanda #ditch #the unrelenting aubergine #clarissa's diy wedding #cdiyw #sfthposting #sfth #shoot from the hip #shootimpro #sfth headcanons #sfth crossover #o’hands everything store #this is straight copy/paste from the mega doc lmao #i just felt the need to share

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lassoinyourlap · 2 days ago

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Clark Kent x fem!Reader Dynamic: Best friends with benefits, soft dom/sub energy, unspoken feelings, emotionally charged intimacy

Tags: clark kent x reader, superman x reader, fem reader, best friends with benefits, friends to lovers tease, soft smut, gentle dom clark, soft nsfw, emotional intimacy, second person pov, sleepy sex, post-mission comfort.

The sound of shattering glass wakes you from a deep slumber. You sit up in bed, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to make sense of the noise. That's when you see him, standing on your balcony with a look of exhaustion etched onto his handsome face.

Clark steps inside, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a weariness that tugs at your heartstrings. His suit is torn in several places, evidence of the battles he's fought tonight.

"Clark?" you whisper, rushing to his side. "What happened?"

He shakes his head, pulling you into a tight embrace. "It's okay," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm here now."

You lead him to the couch, guiding him to sit down as you fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom. Clark watches you with tired eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You always take such good care of me," he says softly, reaching out to take your hand in his. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You kneel before him, gently dabbing at the cuts and bruises marring his perfect skin. "You don't have to worry about that," you assure him, your voice gentle. "I'll always be here for you."

Clark leans back, closing his eyes as you work. The silence stretches between you, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and antiseptic wipes.

Once you've finished patching him up, Clark reaches for you, pulling you onto his lap. He cradles you against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you like a shield.

"Make me forget,"

he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Help me forget the violence, the pain. I just want to feel something good, something soft."

Your heart swells at his words, a rush of affection washing over you. You've been best friends with Clark for years, your relationship built on mutual trust and understanding. But lately, there's been something else simmering beneath the surface, an unspoken desire that threatens to consume you both.

You tilt your head up, your lips meeting his in a soft, gentle kiss. Clark responds immediately, his arms tightening around you as he deepens the kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours in a slow, sensual dance.

Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. Clark groans, his hips bucking up against yours as he seeks more friction. You can feel his hardness pressing against your core, evidence of his desire.

"Clark," you gasp, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. "We shouldn't... I mean..."

He silences you with another kiss, his hand sliding up your thigh to cup your ass.

"I need you," he breathes, his voice heavy with want. "Please, I need to feel you."

Your resolve crumbles at his words, your own desire overriding any hesitation you may have had. You grind down against him, relishing the feeling of his hard length pressing against your sensitive flesh.

Clark makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside as he reveals your naked body to his hungry gaze. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucks and teases the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your head falls back as he lavishes attention on your breasts, your fingers tangling in his hair. Clark continues his assault, his hand sliding between your legs to stroke your aching folds.

"Clark," you whimper, arching into his touch. "Please..."

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling against your skin.

"Patience, my love. We have all night."

Clark shifts beneath you, his fingers finding your entrance and plunging deep inside. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around him as he starts to pump in and out.

Your orgasm builds quickly, the pleasure coiling in your lower belly as he works you higher and higher. Just as you're about to tumble over the edge, Clark pulls away, leaving you whimpering in frustration.

"Clark," you pant, glaring at him through hooded eyes. "Why did you stop?"

He grins, shifting you off his lap and onto your back on the couch. He settles between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your entrance.

"Because I want to watch you fall apart on my cock," he growls, slowly pushing inside you.

"I want to feel every inch of you as I make you mine."

You moan as he fills you, stretching you in the most delicious way. Clark sets a slow, sensual pace, his hips rolling against yours in a way that drives you wild.

Your hands roam over his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. Clark leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to move inside you.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

Your heart swells at his confession, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"I love you too," you whisper, pulling him closer. "Forever and always."

Clark picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent as he chases his own release. You meet him thrust for thrust, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure builds within you.

With a final cry, you tumble over the edge, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Clark follows shortly after, spilling himself inside you with a groan of pure ecstasy.

He collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you come down from your highs. Clark rolls to the side, pulling you into his arms as he presses tender kisses to your forehead.

"I meant what I said," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. "I love you, more than anything in this world."

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms.

"I love you too,"

you whisper, knowing that no matter what happens, you'll always have this moment.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x female reader #x fem!reader #dc universe #dcu #fem nsft #soft smut #best friends #with benefits

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abbysimsfun · 2 days ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 212 (Lost in the Volcano Caves)

"Ash, we've seen this tunnel before," Lavender insisted, following her brother at a dragging pace as they wandered aimlessly through the winding volcano caves. Gord and Captain Whitaker stuck close, eyeing their young humans with confusion.

"How can you tell? Half the tunnels look the same as this one and we've looked at the same rocks for hours!"

Ash was tired and worried. His phone couldn't get a signal in the tunnels they were lost in; if they ever found their way out of here, he knew they'd be in trouble.

"Maybe Gord and Captain Whitaker can find a way out that's only big enough for dogs and get help," she suggested. "I'm getting hungry."

"Me too," he agreed. "Why did you have to run in so far, Lava?"

"I thought I heard a mermaid! Isn't that what Mommy and Daddy are here to look for?"

"There's no mermaids here!" he argued. "No water, just rocks."

"I didn't know that!"

The dogs barked to stop their bickering, and Ash relented to his sister's idea. "Go find help," he urged them, but the dogs waited before taking their leave. Ash bent down to rub them both behind their ears. "We'll be okay until you get back."

With his assurance, the dogs headed off into the darkness, leaving the siblings to turn yet another corner to another endless tunnel.

"We haven't been down this way, at least," Lavender observed. She studied graffiti on the walls, illuminated by strange glowing rock formations. "Who do you think painted all these?"

Ash shrugged. "Could have been anyone."

Living with Conrad had trained them well, and both Ash and Lavender set to work cleaning the tags off the walls with their pocket sponges.

"Looks perfect, now," Lavender said, but the momentary burst of pride for their good deed was soon replaced by the grumble of their stomachs. They were still lost. "So what do we do now?"

Ash shrugged. "Stay here, I guess?"

"It sorta smells here," Lavender observed. "It smells like bad eggs."

"Try not to think about it."

"Are you Ash Landgraab?"

The voice from behind them stopped him in his tracks. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what? Is it the dogs? Are they back already?"

Ash whipped around to the sound of the voice. He expected a ghost, but the translucent figure of a woman in prison scrubs and French-style braids threw him back.

"Ash, who is it?" Lavender wondered feverishly. "Is it a ghost? Is it Layne Coffin?"

The figure scowled as Lavender asked a million questions, her ghostly outline a shade of tense orange. "Kids are so annoying. Make her stop," she said.

"Lavender, be quiet! It's not Layne Coffin."

"Well, who is it?"

"It's not important," he said. "It's just a ghost. Just let me talk to them."

"They said I'd find you up here," the ghostly woman continued. "I need you to tell my brother Rafa something for me."

Ash's eyes formed into slits. "Tell him yourself," he shot back.

"I can't leave here," argued Ximena's ghost. "I came up through the gate from..." Her eyes travelled downward, as if glancing past the stones underfoot.

"You went to-?"

"At least I'm not the only one down there," she sneered. "I ended up where I deserved."

"What does Rafa need to know?"

"He needs to know the cartel will destroy them both if he raises my baby. They'll take her from him just like they took me from our parents and turn her into the same woman I became, even if he's not in Selva."

"Won't Los Tigres come for anyone who raises her, then?"

She shook her head. "There are people on the mainland they don't like to touch if they can help it."

"Like who?"

"Like people with the last name Landgraab, or closely connected families. They'll turn all of Selva upside down, terrorize locals into compliance, but they like to stay out of the way of Landgraabs, Altos, Villareals as much as possible - any family with more police connections than they've got."

"Do you know my mom and Conrad want to adopt her?"

She nodded. "I hate that name: Iris, but she's not mine anymore. She never was. I just want to do this one thing for her, to make sure she'll never have to live like I did. Not one day in her life."

"Are you going to haunt us if we take her to Brindleton Bay?"

"I told you, I can't leave here. That's part of the punishment when you go where I am."

Ash scoffed. "I wouldn't know."

"You might know this place someday, Landgraab."

Ximena's tense outline had faded to confident blue - she could sense that her words had been heard by the ghost whisperer she'd come to meet, and her usual bite was still apparent despite her translucence.

Lavender had moved to a stone-carved bench. "Ash, who is it?" she pressed, knowing far less about her father's cartel ex than Ash did. "Are you talking about Iris?"

"It's Iris' birth mother," Ash told her, and Lavender gasped.

"She died?!"

"She asks too many questions," moaned Ximena.

A black-robed figure floated into the cave through the wall, and Lavender stood with excitement when she spotted him. "Grim's here!"

"Hello Lavender, Ash." He nodded politely in their direction before pointing his staff toward Ximena. "I've come to make sure this one heads back downstairs."

"Oh, please! I said what I needed to say, and I'll never leave before a certain cherry redhead comes down to join me. Why would I haunt living sims when I can toy with her for an eternity?"

Her eyes burned with fury at the mention of the woman who killed her, and Grim shook his head with disappointment. "That's exactly why you're down there, you know. You still think about revenge, even in death."

"I let go of Conrad and his family," she pointed out. "I'm trying to keep Rafa safe, too. I'm not trying to save my ghostly soul."

With one last look toward Ash and his sister, Ximena's ghost began to fade into the walls of the cave. "She'll be safe with you," she insisted, just before she disappeared.

Lavender noticed her brother's body language relax, and she knew Ximena was finally gone. "Ash, are you okay?"

He nodded slowly. "I'm fine, and she'll never come back to bother any of us once we take Iris home to the Bay."

The Grim Reaper nodded plainly. "She said all she wanted to say. I'll stick around until the gate's locked behind her, but she's sincere. She's got nothing left to gain by lying to you."

Lavender's stomach growled again. "Well, that's good, then! Grim, do you know how we can get out of here? We're really hungry."

Grim nodded, pointing in the direction of another dark tunnel. "Walk that way about twenty paces and turn left. There's a small stone staircase that opens toward the top of the hiking path up to the edge of the volcano."

"Will Gord and Captain Whitaker find us there?"

"The dogs know your smell," Grim assured them. "They'll know where you are."

Following his direction, Ash and Lavender finally found their way out of the volcano caves, emerging into night and bathed in excessive warmth from the fiery glow of molten lava.

"Should we walk back down to the cave entrance?" said Ash, but Lavender was on her knees digging around a shiny rock. "There's something under here," she said. "It's a treasure map!"

"We go home in less than a week. We don't have time to look for buried treasure."

"It doesn't even look like it's for Sulani," she argued. "Maybe it'll just be a place for me to find more MySims dolls! I haven't found any since Daddy gave me his collection to finish."

Their conversation was interrupted by distant barking, and it only took a moment before the hairy frames of their adventurous dogs bounded up the path. Rafa, Conrad, and Heather raced up behind them, embracing both kids as relief washed their fears away.

"I'm sorry," Ash said. "I lied about leaving the beach, and then we got lost inside the volcano caves and I lost phone service."

Heather wrapped her arms around him tightly, but she pulled away with a look of consternation. "I'm glad you can be honest about lying, but you're grounded as soon as we get back to the Bay. Just school, homework, and chores for the next month. And Lavender, you can have extra chores."

"I'll miss the opening of Pearl and Nan's new show!" he protested. "It's A Midsummer Night's Dream and Pearl's Helena!"

"Maybe you can catch the show when you're done being grounded," Conrad countered. "You said you'd stick to the beach, but then lied to your mother and put your little sister at risk."

Ash moaned but understood as his stepfather embraced him. "She asked and I just wanted to see the beach where Marco took me, but then...inside the cave, I saw Ximena's ghost. She talked to me."

Both Conrad and Rafa perked up. "What did she say to you?" Rafa pressed.

"She just wanted to make sure Iris was raised in a good home far away from anyone in Los Tigres. She said if Rafa and Melissa raise her, they'll eventually take her away just like they took her from Selvadorada."

Rafa frowned. "She told you all that?"

"What else did she say?" Conrad pressed.

"She said she wanted to do one good thing for her and for her brother before she never bothers us again. I didn't tell her you'd already called Felix and Judge Morrison to talk about the adoption paperwork, but she knows about it. She wanted to make sure it happens."

Heather's heartrate quickened. "So, now, she's gone for good?"

"Yeah. She seems fine where she is."

The family returned to Ohan'ali Town to pick up Roan from Rafa and Melissa's, where Ash asked if he could be the one to feed baby Iris. His new sister looked up at him with wide eyes in anticipation of the bottle of formula, nestling against his protective embrace.

Ash watched Iris drink with a sense of calm. If the power of his name could protect an innocent baby, he had to use it.

Maybe this could be a way for him to beat back the curse of his family's cruel and punishing legacy. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary | Gen 2.2 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Cave Tunnel: The Tunnel by leahvigs on the Sims 4 Gallery. I got rid of most of the lot just to avoid building my own cave tunnel, and this did more than enough because it even gave me graffiti to match Ash's gameplay popup! The original has a DJ booth inside and it's basically an abandoned tunnel turned into a lot for sims into the underground rave scene.

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #sulani #grim reaper

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selfloverrrrrr · 5 hours ago

Note

Hey, may i request some incel yuta smut? where he gags and ties her up when she’s lost at the school and then uses and cums in all her holes the whole time he’s recording her, forcing her to be complaint cause she’s a non sorcerer

Be silent

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Yuta's pov

It was yuji who told me about her first. We were playing games online as usual. Me, Yuji, Megumi, and Inumaki. "Y'all seen the new girl?" Yuji asked. "Yep" Megumi replied. "Tuna" Inumaki said. "Wait.... There's a new girl in our school?" I asked. "Yeah, today was her first day" Yuji replied. "Oh I haven't gone to school today" I replied. "Wait lemme show you I've got her insta" Yuji said and shared his screen. He searched for a profile and opened a picture on Instagram. "This is her" He said. I saw the girl. She looks...... Gorgeous. My eyes widened when I saw her. Fuck she's hot. That glossy lips..... I want those lips to suck off my dick. I wanna fuck her like every porn videos I've ever watched. God I've to get her. The next day I saw her. God, she looks as gorgeous as her photo. Tempting.... Too tempting. The way her skirt was swinging around her ass made me lose my mind. I want to bend her over right there and fuck the shit out of her. Don't worry.... It'll be soon when I'll have that perfect fucking body to fuck.

Next week when I was passing by the back hallway to go back home.... The dark hallway nobody uses but it's a shortcut. I saw her there. She looks nervous. Walking around and searching for where to go. Is she..... Lost? I smirked at myself at the thought. "Hey" I spoke. She turned around. "Uh... Hey?" She said confusingly. "I'm yuta. I'm student here. You're the new student, right? What are you doing here?" I asked. "Oh.... Nice to meet you. Yes...I'm y/n. I'm actually lost the way I don't know how to go back" She replied. "It's ok... I'll show you. Come with me" I said. Her eyes lit up. "Oh my god thanks I was so scared" She said and walked towards me. She trusted me. Great. As she came close... Too close to me. I learned and "sleep" I whispered in her ear. Her body jerked off then she fell unconscious and her body fell on my chest. I quickly grabbed her. That's a lot to inumaki's cursed technique.... I pick her up and started carrying her to my home by the school's back side road which no one uses. I hadn't thought that my victory would come this quick.

Y/n's pov

When I woke up I was in a bedroom which isn't mine. Then I saw the picture hanging on the wall. It's yuta. Yuta's room?! Then I noticed I was fully naked. Where are my clothes?! I tried to cover myself when I realized my hands are tied up behind me. The bed shifted. I looked in the direction and saw Yuta. Shirtless, only in pants in which I can clearly see the bulge. He's crawling towards me. I tried my best to push myself back. I was about to scream when I realised my mouth was tied with a cloth as well!

I panicked. He's coming closer and smiling. And I'm there unable even to cover myself. "Mmmmm Mmmmm" I mumbled shaking my head left and right. He reached me. "Don't worry.... Don't be scared. I'm here to take good care of you. It'll feel goooood" He whispered. He grabbed my waist and pulled me towards him. I flinched at his touch. He sniffed at my neck. "You always smell so.... Delicious" He said licking my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut. He licked down my chest. With a openmouthed kiss he captured a nipple. I gagged in the cloth. Circling his tongue around the nipple teasing. I turned my head to the side hoping that it's a bad dream.

He's sucking on it. Squeezing the other one with his hand. He looked at me. His hand sliding down. Slowly. Very slowly. Until his fingers touched my clit. I flinched and tried to pull away my hips. But I couldn't even move how he held me. He pressed his two middle fingers and rubbed up and down. "Mmmmmm!" I moaned and turned my head away. He didn't stop. He continued rubbing my clit. Suddenly pushed his fingers inside my pussy. I moaned loudly. "Y/n, you love me..... Don't you?" He asked and started thrusting his fingers.

"I love you... I love you so fucking much!" He said. Curling his fingers up making me cry. "You know I liked you from the day yuji told me about you and the next day I first saw you.... You know I've never done this...." He curled his fingers to the g-spot "I always saw it in porn videos. Gosh, you know I didn't even fucking knew how to masterbate..... Of course I learned it from porn. Always wondered how does sex feels in real life?" His fingers thrusting faster and I clenched around those. "And when I saw you..... Fuck the things I wanted was to fuck you.... I felt that you're the one I wanna have sex with" He said.

I hate how my body is trying to betray me. I don't want this but I feel like I'm gonna cum. And when I was about to cum... He pulled out his fingers. "And you know I've also learned from porns how to make a pussy eager" He whispered with a smirked sucking his fingers. Tears have wetted my whole face. Then he untied the cloth on my mouth. And I can breathe clearly again. But before I could breathe properly he pressed his lips on mine. Kissing me hungrily. I tried to push him away but he was pulling me closer. His hand slid to my chest and squeezed it. My body jerked off. I turned my head to the left to prevent his kiss.

He went up undoing his pants. Reveling his dick. Hard, big, throbbing. "No... Please.... Y-Yuta" I begged. He grabbed my hair and yanked. I whimpered. "The girls on porn videos never say no" He said. He lowered my head. "Open your mouth" He said. I didn't open my mouth. He forced his dick inside. He thrust his dick in my mouth. I squeezed my eyes. Tears flowing down. My mouth started hurting. My mouth taking the whole length in slowly. It was too big. Yuta's breath hitched. He threw his head back mouth wide open. He pulled my hair telling me to suck hard. I didn't do anything. He pulled my hair harshly. I slowly sucked his dick and his legs shook. I hate how my body was feeling. How he just eged me and not doing anything now.

He bobbed my head up and down. His tip was poking the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and started bobbing my head up and down faster. "Oh god...oh god.... don't...ahhhh fuckkk... don't stop!!!!" Yuta moaned out loudly. I hated how my hips desperately rubbed my clit on the bed for some satisfaction. But it wasn't enough!.... I can't take it. He was bobbing my head up and down faster and faster. He suddenly felt that Geto was close. In a few minutes he came inside my mouth. He grabbed my chin "Swallow it y/n" geto said squeezing my mouth which made me swallow. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed his cum. Then he pulled out.

I was breathing heavily. He grabbed my hips and tossed me around. I fell on my stomach. He let himself fall over my back and licked on my neck. Before I could react to anything I felt his cock rubbing on my clit. I mewled. He rubbed up and down. "Tell me. You love me.... Right???" He whispered. I whined. My pussy clenched around nothing. Is he gonna put it inside now? Suddenly I felt him lining up with my butt hole. My eyes widened. "Not yet.... Suffer a little more" He whispered in my ear and pushed it inside. I screamed. It hurts. Tears spilled from my eyes. I was crying. I looked at him over my shoulders and he gave me the most devilish and heartless smile. Then he thrust. Roughly. I choked on the air. He groaned. I opened my mouth to say something but he kissed me instead. Too roughly. Pushing his tongue deeper. Sucking on my mouth as if his life depends on it. I gagged on his tongue. He started moving his hips. I sobbed harder.

I hate how he's playing with me making me desperate. My hips are trying its best to rub my clit on the mattress. But can't do it. He continued thrusting. He was moaning in my ears. And after a while he came again. He started panting. Then he pulled out. My hips jerked off. Then tossed my on my back. How the hell he's still hard after he came two times?! He caged me between his arms and kissed me again. Roughly. Like he's trying to eat my mouth. Then I felt his cock pressed against my pussy. I whined and mewled in his mouth.

He pushed inside. I moaned loudly. "It's too tight just like I imagined!" He groaned. He started moving his hips. I sobbed harder. "You look so pretty you always do.....I love you so much. I knew you were meant to be mine the day I first saw you" He said. Thrusting harder and harder. It hurts too much. I begged him to stop. He chuckled and thrust faster. It's too deep. He hit the G-spot. I gasped and moaned. "Oh?" He smirked and raised his eyebrow "did I hit the G-spot?" He asked.

He thrust deeper on the G-spot again and again. My toes tangled in the bedsheets, back arched. He gave a hungry opened mouthed kiss on my neck. Then he filled my neck and chest with hickeys. "You look better marked by me" He said. His one hand reached down and rubbed circles on my clit. I moaned loudly, eyes rolled back, mouth fell open. He chuckled. Still thrusting deep. I clenched around him. "Look at you....enjoying it so much and clenching on my cock like you meant to be" He said mockingly.

I came in a few seconds. I wanna slap myself so badly. Why is my body reacting against my own thoughts?! Yuta didn't stop. He kept thrusting like before overstimulating me. I kicked my feet on the bed. The wet slapping sounds became louder and faster. "P-please... Stop" I begged. He ignored my words. I felt it. No no no.... Am I gonna cum again?! "Look at this.... That tight pussy is clenching again.... You really love me, huh?" He said licking up my jaw.

And I came again?! He grabbed my jaw. His nails are digging both sides of my cheeks. "I knew this pussy belonged to me.... She loves me.... I'm gonna give her a return gift~ now clench tight" He said. I grabbed his hand. "No... Please" My voice came out as mumbles. He smirked and leaned closer while thrusting. "Yes baby....almost there" He said and with a rough thrust he came. He pushed his cum inside. His dick pulsed every last drop. Then he pulled out. "No one believes nonsorcerers here" He whispered.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💗

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