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edward-munson · 2 days ago

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just for tonight | S.H.

Summary: You and Steve can't stand each other. You always jump at each other's throats whenever you are together. You have set a goal during his birthday party, but you didn't think it would work.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v (protected sex), oral (m receiving), choking kink, fingering, (sort of) aftercare, a little bit of angst

Word count: 4.6k

-`♡´-

If there's something Steve hates the most besides hating you, it's the fact that Robin insisted you should come to his birthday party. And he insisted it was his birthday, and you would ruin it if you were there. He wasn't wrong, though. You made his life a living hell simply for the fun of it, but he would always make sure he did the same.

And there you were, holding the same scowl on your face as he does. Whenever he had to walk past you in his big apartment, he would try to avoid your gaze, but deep inside he wanted to show you how much he despised your presence. You couldn't give a shit about him, completely ignoring his existence as you were drinking your Piña Colada while talking to Eddie about something random.

At some point, you started to notice how Steve would go back and forth. While you were sitting in the stool of his living room with Robin and Nancy, you would notice he would stand there and huff. Now you try to pretend you're not listening to him as you look straight forward, but your left ear perks up when you listen to what he's saying. He's complaining he has been turned down twice until now. You try to hold back a snort and sip on your drink to avoid that to happen.

Pretty, golden kissed skin, perfect sat hair on his head and muscled Steve Harrington was complaining he was being denied. Twice. You thought your night wasn't going to be good at all, but the sight of him with pouty lips as he talks to his girl friends, it was worth getting out.

You lost count on how many drinks you had, you already smoked weed with Eddie, who drank more beers than he could count as well. Argyle was also in a funny state of drunkenness. You were dancing with both girls too, bumping a few times into each other as the alcohol traveled through your system. You're in a daze as you swing your body to the music, barely keeping your feet steady and Eddie has to hold your waist a few times so you won't fall on your face. You laugh at it all.

You laugh even more when you watch from afar while a girl rips herself from Steve's grip and gives him an apologetic nod, before turning her back to him. He turns his head directly at Robin, who's dancing beside you, and it's enough for him to notice you were watching all of it as well. This time, you snort and cackle. You laugh so hard, there's no reason to hide it. He rolls his eyes and walks towards you, his hands balled into fists as his face holds a scowl again.

"Is it all amusing to you?" His face gets closer to yours, his eyes are kind of blown from the weed he also smoked.

You sipped on your drink, nonchalant, and shrugged. "Well, I just think it's funny how king Steve can't seem to score on his birthday"

Robin tries scolding you with a warning look on her face.

"It's okay, Steve! Someone will like you!" She comforts him with a gentle look. Her hand rubbed his shoulder.

He's actually still shooting daggers at you, mouth closed on a thin line. His chest is kind of puffed because he feels like his body is rigid from his anger.

"You should just stop being such a brat. This is my house. Go find something better to do" He scans you up and down with disdain over his eyes and you just hold your gaze at him.

And you did.

But you never intended to stop looking his way to make sure he wasn't getting a girl. And it's not like there were many options, because it wasn't a big party anyway. You complained to Eddie about the way Steve talked to you, and he laughed it off.

He was being annoying too. He would try at all costs to bump into you whenever he got closer. Steve was trying to get on your nerves just so you could feel what it's like. And when you were left alone for a moment, he would send you this taunting sly smirk. When you were leaving his bathroom, you were caught off guard when his sudden shadow made its presence in the hallway. He passed by you, shoving his shoulder against yours when he made his way to the bedroom.

Back to the living room, when you were all dancing, he made sure he would hit his back against yours, making you stumble forward. It was getting really infuriating. You looked back over your shoulder, just to catch him mouthing a forced "sorry" with another smile. Then something switched inside of you. You weren't getting guys either, but because you didn't want to. So you decided there would be a goal tonight.

You placed both hands over Eddie's shoulders and danced to the music. You swayed your hips to the rhythm, sliding down until you were almost crouched. Your dress rode up a little, showing a little more of your skin. He was flabbergasted to see you dancing like that out of nowhere.

You stood up and kept swinging your hips left and right. Turning on your back to your friend, you couldn't help but notice how Steve's eyes would divert whenever you caught him looking. You smirked. It was working. You then moved to Robin, dancing on your back to her as she placed her hands on your hips, dancing in sync with you. You dropped your head back, leaning against her shoulder, biting your lip.

"Yeah, honey. Whoo!" She gripped your skin through the fabric and grazed your stomach.

You and Robin were always too touchy and sometimes it made people think you had a thing. Steve included. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, growing impatient as he saw the way she was holding your ribs, fingers touching the curve of your breasts. He tried to focus on his other friends, but it was too hard when you were looking at him that way.

He waved it off, reminding himself why he hated you, why he despised you. He remembered why he didn't invite you even then, you were forced to come because of your friends. But the thought of ripping off the material and sucking on your skin was making him become annoyed.

You were twerking with Robin and Eddie, your ass bouncing to the music. Your hips rolling as your legs are tangled to Eddie's. He doesn't care if you look hot, you're like a sister to him and it's hard for him to actually sexualize you. They knew what you were doing by now. They were catching sight of Steve holding his glass of whisky tightly. Your eyes drifted to him a few times, and your tongue would slip between your fingers in a cocky way. He knew that.

There was no one in the kitchen. You went looking for a beer as the buzz of all the drinks you had was too much now. There were too many empty bottles spread through the sink, along with the bottles of booze. A few snacks were on top of the kitchen island. You were too absorbed into your own thoughts as you ate the food and sipped on your newfound beer. You didn't see when Steve came right behind you.

His frame caged you between the kitchen island, while towering over you. His big hand found your hip and he swung you around, your faces barely touching as your eyes widened. He wasn't scowling, but his brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

"What?" You ask in confrontation, his arms leaning against the furniture behind you. "What? You're frustrated no one would fuck you on your birthday?"

Steve didn't answer you, rather, he chuckled with sarcasm. You watched as he shook his head, looking down. When he looked up at you, one of his hands flew up to your face, he was gripping your jawline almost forcefully.

"You know it sounds like you're just jealous, right? It seems to me you wish you were the one I was hitting on".

You laughed at his words, you truly laughed. But you couldn't deny the fact that Steve Harrington was almost God's grace.

"Oh, Stevie. Not even if the world was ending" Your own hand came up to his cheek, where you left a mocking slight slap.

He reacted to that. He truly wished you didn't have to be so bitchy about it. But now it was his time to play your game. His free hand reached for your side, fingers sliding up to your ribs. His thumb stroked your skin through the dress, right under the curve of your breast.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His breath hit your skin and it left goosebumps.

The ones you couldn't fucking control. He mused at your reaction. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

Your only plan was to induce him. You didn't think Steve would actually come after you at all. And now you didn't have cards to play against him. And it made him realize he was the one ahead of you this time.

"So now that you have no other options, you come crawling to me?" You spread your hands against his chest, slipping your fingers down his white t-shirt, all while he tightens his fingers around your side.

He has to hold a grunt, because you're so hot and yet adorably annoying. He hates you, yes. But he would never deny fucking you either.

"Now, you wish. Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, pretty girl" His voice is like honey when it reaches your ear.

His fingers are rough on you, but they never hurt you. His expensive cologne is not helping either. And the way his hair falls on his face makes you think you wish you could rake your fingers through them. Your legs almost close in response to the pet name, but he's pushing one of his own legs in between yours. You didn't even notice it.

"Don't be so arrogant. You may be handsome, but you're far from being worth the time".

And you lie. You don't even budge, you don't blink an eye. It makes you realize how good of a liar you are and how bad it would make you look.

But it's not like he doesn't know you well enough to see you're not saying the truth and he laughs again. There's a soft, but still hard look on his face, he pouts at you with a sided smile and tilts his head. You wish you could admit he's not worth it.

"Right. So I won't waste your time" He then leaves your skin, and steps back. You immediately miss his touch. His leg isn't between yours anymore and he gives you another look before going back to the living room.

Steve can't do this anymore. He wished for a long time he would fuck you dumb. Just to hear you say his name. So he slowly retrieves back and turns his footsteps. And he waits, for a moment, but he waits. He's walking away sluggishly from you.

And you watch him walking away. Your heart is pumping faster and your hands are gripping too tight on the edge of the kitchen island. Your knees are wobbly. For a few seconds, you think it's better this way. Maybe you won't work in bed either. Maybe it would be a disaster doing that. But your body aches for him, your stomach burns craving for his touch. You call him out in almost a whisper, but it's enough for him to hear you.

He turns his head first, the corner of his eyes peering at you. "Are you sure?" He barely sees when you just nod, still holding yourself up from all the tension. "Fuck this".

He clings to you in a rush, holding your waist with both hands as he brushes his lips against yours. "Tell me we're not gonna regret this" He breathes out.

"I know I won't" Your arms wrap around his neck, hands finally tangling between his hair.

He needed reassurance, because there was no way he would regret this either. There was a fire growing inside his chest from seeing you this night. Obviously he wished he went to bed with another woman, but there's something about you that pulls him in. He wants to drown in you. His lips finally crashed against yours, for the first seconds it was an intense rush of feelings. You let out a muffled whimper, leaving him desperate to taste more of you.

His tongue slips through your mouth, colliding against yours. He tastes your beer and you taste the bourbon he was having. It's an explosion of lust between you two, finally. Steve lifts one hand and plants it on your neck, his rub stroking your chin. You wouldn't know he was soft after all you've been through. All the bickering, all the mocking. Every time you crossed paths, there was a look of aversion at each other.

You were almost always together. There were times you refused to go out with your friend because he was going too. Or he wouldn't go to someone's house or go out either because you'd be there. It's been like that for almost two years, ever since you saw him making fun of Eddie when he was still a new friend. And you hated that. You started to hate him with a growing avoidance to be near him.

After you started to mistreat him and be ironic most of the time. Until he started to fight back. Eddie was such a sweetheart, he was the one to stop you from fighting. He said it was okay, because then he became friends with Steve. But you never agreed to that and never forgave him either.

Now you were almost turning into a puddle. He kisses like he can't get enough of you. And you battle for dominance with your tongue. You pull the nape of his hair back and he groans. He tugs at you and pushes his hips forward until you feel the bulge straining in his jeans. His thumb slips down your neck as he feels your pulse, and then squeezes your throat lightly. You breathe out against his mouth with a soft moan and he loses it.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me" His voice is hoarse. Steve opens his lids only a few inches just to look at you with lust fulfilling his eyes.

He doesn't waste anymore time as he holds you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He makes his way to his bedroom, locking the door as he shoves both of you against it. He kisses you again and there's no romance in it. He's impatient and bites your lower lip, pulling it back gently. It's a mix of roughness and softness at the same time. He drops your weight, only to capture your ass with both hands this time. His fingertips graze over the curve of your ass, digging his nails against it.

There's a jolt on your body when he slaps your asscheek. It stings but it doesn't hurt. "You like that, huh?" He chuckles against your mouth and gives your lips a smell peck before slapping you again.

"You're such an arrogant dork" You pull back and use both hands to shove him by his chest until the back of his knees hit his bed.

He watches in awe as you bend down in front of him, small gentle hands undoing his jeans, sliding your fingers against his boxer. You feel the roughness of it, his cock being pressed by the fabric, a damp patch forming around it. You don't need to waste your time with teasing, so you immediately get rid of both at the same time, watching as his hardness springs free. Reddened tip, leaking precum. His length surprised you.

You wrap a hand around his girth, stroking him a few times. You look back at him behind your lashes, his eyes trained at you with such an unreadable expression. He doesn't seem to hate you right now. You see how his chest rises quickly, and you bite your lower lip when you notice how his eyes shut when you stroke him harder.

Your fingers spread the liquid over his shaft before you finally get to taste him. You lick a stripe from his balls until the tip and put on a show for him. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive spot and open your mouth, sucking on it. Steve throws his head back, leaving a loud growl in reaction. You can't help but hum. You lower your head further down, bobbing it a few times until you're used to his size. You don't think you can deep throat him, but you try your best to get past half of it without gagging.

His tip hits the back of your throat and he moans. He doesn't care if he's vocal. You use your free hand to rest it over his stomach, fingers grazing his hairs, nails scratching his skin. You use your tongue to lick him through his length, pumping him with your mouth.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, fingers tangling on it. He bucks his hips forward and fucks your mouth. He can't stop whimpering either. You hear your name slipping out of his throat every now and then. You hold his shaft and suck his cock mercilessly, saliva dripping down his skin. You pull back with a pant, looking at him straight in the eyes and he hurriedly pulls you back up. Your mouth is so wet, from the spit, from his precum.

Steve is fast when he swings you around, removing your shoes and throwing them off. He pushes you slowly to the bed so you bend over to him, your ass in the air for him. He plants his palms over your cheeks, stroking them before slapping one and you jolt forward again, leaving a mewl.

"You're such a pretty needy thing, aren't you?" His tone is raspy and it trembles from his sight. Another slap. "Always so pretty. Delicate". Another slap. "It's such a shame we hate each other. Could've had fucked you way before".

You feel his hands lifting the hem of your dress, reaching for your underwear. He rolls it off your legs, getting rid of it before opening your legs apart with one knee. The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he uses his thumb to spread your slit. His finger reaches for your clit and rubs circles around it, making your hips stutter.

"Fuck, Steve" You plead. He collects the wetness of your cunt and uses it as leverage to push into your pussy and you cry out. "Shit".

He's lightheaded, drunk on you. Steve strokes his cock as he pumps his finger inside you a few times. He rubs his thumb up and down, pressing your swollen nub. He hisses whenever you roll your hips against his finger, feeling your slippy skin against his thumb. His cock is almost bursting into a mess and he can't seem to hold it back for too long, but he tries. He picks up a condom from his drawer and rolls the plastic around his shaft.

Still on your fours, you can feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself. His free hand stays on your waist as he uses the other one to rub his dick against your slit. You bite your lip from the obscenities you want to scream.

He pushes his tip first, feeling you clench around him. He takes another second before thrusting against you once, carefully so it won't hurt. You drop your weight forward, whimpering from the sensation.

"Fuck, I'm so big for you" His hips slowly start to hit on your ass. "You okay, pretty?"

You can't formulate an answer so you just nod. Steve could never be this gentle in your head. And yet, there he was, making sure you were good. You heard his own voice proclaiming curses under his breath each time he digs his cock further into your pussy. He starts pounding on you quickly, slapping his skin against yours.

You're both a mess of moans, you can't stand on your elbows and you can't stop rolling your hips against him. He holds your waist with both hands, firmly gripping on your skin.

"Oh God, Steve. That's it. That's so good" You yelp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting you.

His hair is a mess, there's a few strands falling over his eyes as he looks down. He takes his shirt off and throws it away as well, feeling his body on fire. Sweat streamed down his hairy chest, reaching his happy trail.

"You're so fucking good" He praises.

He leans down on you, thrusting harder against your pussy. The new position makes you feel every inch of his cock, his balls slapping against your ass too. Steve carefully wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing it. It's enough for your windpipe to close a bit.

You shut your eyes and your brows crease, voice too strained from pleasure to say anything else. He can only listen to your crying moans.

He licks his lips, moving closer to your ear. "You're such a kinky girl, I see" Steve whispers, his hot breath hitting your skin. You clench around him again and he leaves a groan next to you. "Fuck, do that again".

Now you chuckle, still in a daze. He's still gripping your throat tightly, fingers digging on your neck, straining you. You cage his cock so hard with your pussy, he pushes it all inside of you. He can't move it, and the more you clench around him, the more he feels his pleasure building up.

He pounds hard once, his free hand still holding your waist for support. You throw your head back and roll your eyes. His other hand never leaves your throat. He pushes further again, hips meeting your ass, and you cry. He then decides to pull you up, leaning your back against his chest. You're feeling limp already. His tip hits a different spot inside of you and it makes you roll your hips against him.

Steve rests his head over your shoulder, and he whispers such dirty things for you but you can barely comprehend what he's saying. He's wrapped an arm around you, snapping his hips against you. The other hand slips down your body, cupping one of your breasts. His fingers pinch your hardened nipple, ripping another moan from you.

He loves the way you're falling apart for him, as much as he's glad you're doing the same for him. Even though he would love to see you riding him. He feels your legs wobbling, tension contracting your body. Your muscles are sore and there's a knot forming in your stomach.

He's clinging to you, his sweaty chest is sticking to your back. Now he's not even pounding on you anymore, he's just pushing his cock in a soft motion as he whispers into your ear.

He grazes his teeth between your earlobe and breathes against your skin. You're already clenching so hard, he thinks his cock could snap in half. "Come for me, pretty girl".

Steve spreads wet kisses against your neck, sucking on it as he trails your skin down to your shoulder. You don't want to deal with that right now, you don't want to think how soft he's being to you. There's a coil inside of you and it snaps as you cum on his cock. Your body jolts and trembles over him, legs almost faltering.

You're squirming and clenching around him as he thrusts faster when he feels his orgasm reaching its peak. He usually doesn't cum together with a partner. It's either he waits for them to cum first and he finishes minutes later, or when he's feeling needy he finishes first. But it's hard for something like that to happen.

You're still coming down from your high, he spurts into the condom, feeling his muscles contracting. He never leaves you, he groans from the pleasure over your ear and leaves marks from his fingertips on you.

He gives his final thrust, throwing his head over your shoulder. He's heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside of you. You turn your head to the side where his head is resting and kiss his temple, ripping him from his daydream, catching him off guard.

He painfully pulls back from you, missing your pussy right at the same moment. Steve disappears into his bathroom for a few seconds, walking back and picking up the clothes from the floor. You notice you're completely naked and start wondering when the fuck you got rid of your dress.

You look at Steve. Sweat coating his skin. His hair is wet, as well as his chest and his stomach. His face is flushed and his breathing is still uneven just like yours. He hands you your lace underwear and gets dressed up. You're still peering at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way he tries to fix his greasy sweaty hair with his fingers, only making you feel giddy about it.

But it surprises you when he hands out a comb for you to brush your hair. Your head immediately snapping at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He clears his throat when he notices your reaction, sitting on his bed close to you.

"I uh– Maybe we should, you know" He gestures with his fingers, but it's unclear to you what he wants.

And you giggle, tilting your head at him. "Are you getting shy on me, Steve Harrington?"

But he waves you off, pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. It's kind of a strange feeling to be around him without jumping at each other's throats, but at the same time, it's a good thing.

"I meant, we should talk it off. You know, hating each other. I know you never bothered to show how much you hate me because of Eddie. And I know I was a dick" Steve never even tried to apologize to you before, knowing you were never open to it.

"Let's not get through this tonight, we should try to have fun on your birthday. See if you can actually score".

He chuckles when you finish your sentence, knowing there would be no way he would fuck someone else this night. Not even if he wanted to. "So... we're kinda good tonight?"

You look down at his hand that is expectantly waiting for you to shake it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. "Yeah, kinda. Just for tonight".

He shakes your hand as well, flicking his eyes between your hand and your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you again. You both get up from the bed and fix your clothes before leaving the bedroom, but when you're holding the doorknob, you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist carefully.

You look to your side, to the way he's facing you in a different way. His hand slips to yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, and he pulls you closer to him. You just let him. He holds your jawline with his free hand and hovers his lips against yours lips.

"Just... let me do it one more time tonight" And he kisses you, soft tongue colliding against yours again.

There's something conflicting inside of him. Like his feelings are battling against his mind. Because to him, there was no way he was starting to have emotions towards you.

Not now, not ever.

He breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes he realizes something. He was fucked.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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purewasteland · 1 day ago

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Rob: Dean tells Castiel that this doesn't change anything. They are still in a lovers spat. Rich: Dude, and by the way, you keep saying that. You’re not wrong. Like FOR YEARS I have not understood this Destiel thing. Rob: Same. Rich: For years I’m like ‘okay, whatever, I don’t care but I don’t get it.’ Rob: Yes! Rich: Well, season six really is the little peephole in that relationship. They are so a couple! The episode before this and this one, you’re like- Rob: They such a couple. Rich: Like, guys let’s dial it down to 11, good lord. Rob: I know. It’s almost as if writers knew and they were writing for it. Rich: They of course did. Suddenly Dean gets his feelings hurt all the time and Castiel is like ‘can’t we connect?’ and you’re like ‘what?!’ Rob: And Sam is even like ‘you know, Dean is obviously not doing well because, you know-’ Rich: I never realized it was this obvious. Rob: And Dean is all jealous of Crowley. Rich: This season is really- it lays the groundwork for all of that. Rob: I know. I said it a couple of podcasts ago and you made fun of me. Rich: You did, but man, they just keep going. It just leaned in and it just. Wow. Rob: Yeah, point for Robby on that one. Rich: Robby, you’re kind of dialed in when it comes to that kind of thing.

-Rob Benedict and Richard Speight Jr. Supernatural Then and Now

Let It Bleed with John Showalter (S6EP21)

#deancas #destiel #spn #supernatural #spn then and now #rob benedict #rich speight jr #s06e21 #6.21 #8:50

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shoujoboy-restart · 2 days ago

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Oh thought I was rebbloging from them, eh potato potato.

Also why would I be "scared" of them lol, you yourself said THEIR comparison isn't good, I'm not the one saying abortion for women is equal or comparable to the draft for men, they did.

> I've seen no love for Tate from MRAs

Neither have i because the MRA movement is dead and rotting when it comes to relevance in politics and social discourse at all, you had to bring it up unrelated, no, literally I also had to check if I even said "MRA", I only used "men's right" generically and obviously about the concept not the movement, that's how irrelevant it is to discussions now days.

Which makes this weird strawmans and skeleton digging you are doing really embarrassing

Idk who this warren dude is, good for him, bad for for him whatever, seems like a guy who the topic of a generic buzzfeed feminist article in the 2010s that would make some good and bad point about his beliefs i guess.

Roosh v, don't know don't care, I can remember the name only and he seems to call himself a pick up artist from I've seen, so the anti-sjw slop tubers from 2014 would probably go to great lengths to make him seem more relevant than he is just like mainstream media and probably use him for click bait, but whatever he's doing is for money and grifting by default from what I can see in the surface and that's just common sense I don't make rules lol.

Marc Lepine...

So a random anti-feminist shooter from the 80s? There's like a handful of them, again idk how he's relevant to this discussion specifically, like if you are using this to relive a debunk post you made against We Hunt The Mammoth in the 2010s and you felt it deserved more notes I will need you to pay before and after you finish and i ain't no cheap hoe. But I can definetely see a 2010s video by a random slop tuber that would use the fact he killed men too as proof "he's not a Real™ anti-feminist", make a bunch of edgy commentary about how actually someone should have pitty fucked him for the benefit of society, women shouldn't have been so picky about his demonic depressed aura and they should have thought of him when fighting for women rights completely unrelated to whatever internal issue he was having, issues which the slop tuber and his audience would probably call "socialism welfare" if separated from the topics of men's rights (again, generically, no one is referring to a movement that failed upwards, please move on 2010s it is better for a everyone if we do that)

Honey Badger Brigade, oof that's a deep cut, remember when they tried to go on Metakour's stream to beg for money for that pointless lawsuit going back where they said "actually we are now going to represent ourselves because all lawyers are dumb and don't know anything" which looking back as a adult really just came off as begging and trying to extend their 15 minutes of fame and that any lawyer worth their salt was telling them the contract they signed probably said they could lose their spot whenever and for whatever reason, I also remember when the butch one started using every slur know to man trying to be one of the Cool YouTubers™ 😎 when responding back to Metakour's not giving a shit about men rights because he didn't care about politics of any kind and told them to stop begging his viewers for money, even at like 14 i cringed and noticed how desperate they were to be pandering to anybody that gave them relevance, like nothing shows you REALLY care about men's right than using slurs like the hard-r n-word that dehumanized men based on their skin color and ethnicity, honestly they were the definition of pick me if you ask me, just saying whatever men wanted to hear with no care of concistency or true higher beliefs because it gave them some sort of relevance they could get if involving themselves with real world activism.

Yeah I genuinely don't get why you just brought up some random Mc Nobody author, one of the handful of grifters before Andrew Tate perfected the formula and prepared the soil for him to land, a random anti-feminist shooter form the 80s that would probably get some Devil's Advocacy for YouTube clicks from grifting slop tubers which would be consumed uncritically and then would make y'all look bad obviously and two pick me that had no real beliefs, begged for money every other week for like the political equivalent of pizza parties and would had no real opinion besides whatever mediocre men would like to hear women say.

Again, I said "red pill movement" which is a incredibly generic catch all term for men and people claiming to seek male improvement, which Tate is, he uses that term, most people that also call themselves "red pilled" accept and love him and I have yet to even see a "association fallacy" even begin to being used to claim he doesn't represent "red pill values", mostly because there's none since it just a "floating symbol".

But hey you are the same dude who believes in that weird narrative of "the term incel was actually made derogatorily by a random zoophililic radfem" made by incel appropriators themselves in a beyond weird attempt to make it seem like they didn't steal the term from a disabled woman who made a support forum for disabled and socially unpalatable men and women and actually everyone everywhere wronged them and that's why they advocate for pedophilia now (this is just as irrelevant to topic like your weird creature of the nights checklist you did so lol and lmao even).

Genuine advice, move on, the MRA movement is the definition of reactionary, the only accomplishment it has to show is a Apollo curse PR documentary, a bunch of pizza parties about how great it is to have xy chromosomes in a average way and a bunch of rent seekers shadow boxing at already retires feminist internet figure heads or waiting for the next ai generated article about why eating avocados and doing yoga is the ultimate feminism activism to drop to dibonky it epic style, I'm afraid if this discussion goes any further you are doing to talk about Anita Sarkesian as if she relevant still, and that's scary, move on genuinely, almost a decade doing this and y'all having nothing but YouTube views to show. Genuinely the only people who bring up MRAs unironically these days are TERFs and radfems claiming they have evolved into trans rights activists, and like they are twice more chronically online than MRAs yet they have more real world accomplishmenta than y'all did at the top of y'all's relevance back then...that's sad babe, real sad.

Not feminist as in "women should be included in the draft" but feminist as in "being drafted is a violation of bodily autonomy for any gender".

The draft should not exist. Drafting people into the military is a violation of human rights. You should not be able to force someone to risk their life. If you can't find enough people who care about a conflict to keep it going then it simply shouldn't keep going. You can't even force someone to donate a kidney using government power, why the fuck can you force them to donate their whole body and life to a cause they don't agree with or don't care about?

#discourse #politics #red pill

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cutielando · 2 days ago

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back with you | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which he can't bear to see you with someone else

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

You and Charles had been together for nearly 4 years - a relationship filled with passion, love, and shared dreams.

But in the end, unfortunately, it just hadn't been enough.

The break-up had been devastating, leaving you heartbroken while Charles seemed to have moved on effortlessly, like your relationship had meant nothing.

A month after your split, you found out he had gone back to his ex, and it was safe to say that it had gutted you. The betrayal sliced deeper than the break-up itself, at least that's how it felt. While you had been drowning in sorrow, barely able to find a reason to get out of bed in the mornings, he had been rekindling an old flame, someone he had always told you not to worry about.

It was almost a cliche.

Finding that out was the moment when you had decided you wouldn't - couldn't - let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt you with this.

And so, when the Las Vegas Grand Prix rolled around, you made a decision - you were going to make Charles jealous and make him regret his decision of ever letting you go and breaking up with you. And if you were going to do it, you were going to do it spectacularly.

Enter Grayson Dolan - famous YouTuber, charming, effortlessly attractive, and conveniently more than willing to help you prove your point and have some fun at the same time.

The Las Vegas strip shimmered under the neon lights, the energy of the race weekend pulsing through the air.

Cameras flashed as you and Grayson arrived at the paddock together, walking closely, your laughter light and effortless as you let your fingers graze his arm.

The sleek black revenge dress you wore hugged your curves perfectly, exuding confidence, power, and the very message you had wanted to send - you're thriving, even without Charles Leclerc with you.

And oh, did he notice.

Charles had been standing near his Ferrari garage when he saw you, his easy demeanor faltering as his gazed locked onto you and Grayson. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides as jealousy flared in his chest. You had always been his, and seeing you with someone else - someone who wasn't him - was like a punch to the gut.

The tension only thickened at the afterparty. The club was alive with pulsing music and flashing lights, a place where celebrations and inhibitions blended together.

You were dancing with Grayson, your bodies close, your laughter slipping between you as his hands rested casually on your waist. It was all for show, of course, but it was working.

Maybe even a little too well.

Charles had been watching you all night, his patience slowly wearing thin, his jealousy bubbling over.

And then, just as Grayson leaned in, Charles snapped and lost all control of himself.

Before anyone could even understand what was going on, Charles was shoving Grayson back with enough force to make everyone around you stop to stare and gasp.

"That's enough" Charles said, his voice low and full of warning, his eyes locked onto yours.

Grayson held up his hands, stepping back, but you weren't about to let Charles dictate your life, not anymore.

"What the hell is your problem?" you snapped at him, your voice cutting through the music as Charles grabbed your hand and pulled you outside the club.

The cool night air did very little to cool the fire between you two.

"What was that, Charles? You lost the right to care about what I do the moment you ran back to her" you said, accentuating your last word with disgust in your voice.

Charles ran a hang through his hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Do you honestly think I don't care? You think it didn't kill me inside, seeing you here with him?" he said.

"You don't have the right to be jealous! You left me, Charles. You moved on!" you shot back, your voices echoing on the empty street.

"I never moved on!" he shouted, his voice cracking at the end. "I tried, but I couldn't. Being with her wasn't the same. She's not you, and she'll never be you" he said, shaking his head and exhaling sharply.

Your breath hitched, emotions warring within you as his confession settled between the two of you.

"I miss you, mon amour" he whispered, stepping closer, his hand finding yours in the darkness. "I never stopped loving you"

You wanted to fight it. You truly did.

You tried to focus on the pain and betrayal that he had made you endure, the deep resentment that you help for him in your heart ever since you found out he had ran back in the arms of the one person he had told you he didn't think about anymore.

But even so, your heart betrayed you completely.

Truth be told, you missed him too. God knows you missed him more than you should, given the situation. But how could you possibly stop loving the man that you wanted to spent the rest of your life with? How could you hate the love of your life? How?

The anger, the jealousy, the pain - everything melted away as Charles cupped your cheeks in his hands, his gaze searching yours.

And then, with the world quiet around you, you crashed into him, your lips finding his in a kiss that spoke everything left unsaid.

Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was inevitable, in some way. Maybe you were going to regret it.

But in that moment, all that mattered was that Charles Leclerc was yours again.

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threeacttragedy · 6 hours ago

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Entry 19: The One Where I Perform Mis-Directed as a Three Act Comedy, Act I

The main characters star in a television series adapted from bestselling romance novels…

…called Leicester Square.

Hattie Murton plays Iris Pinkerton, “[a] living ghost of a person, so unimportant that she could walk amongst them tonight… She was simply beneath their notice, which made her to all intents and purposes invisible. It was terribly convenient.”

“Anthony [Rafe] was six feet tall and had a swimmer’s build. All lean elegant muscle.”

Anthony plays bad boy, Victor Del Vayo [sp], whose signature look includes – don’t say “pirate coat!” – no, a long cape.

Anthony also has a crazed fan...

"She’d turned up uninvited at his old flat a week later and bribed the security guard to let her in. He’d made it extremely clear to both of them that if the occurrence was repeated, they’d each be departing in a police car or a body bag."

Oh, and there’s a character named “Jake,” whose sexual chemistry with Hattie is described as “sparks in a damp firework,” a point that is driven into the reader repeatedly. The Jakolas “would have probably preferred it if this was a euphemism.” Alas, it is not.

Actual sparks fly between Hattie and Anthony during their scripted love scenes – although, based on the text, they are both drawn to each other before the filming of their season even starts.

“The fans have got you to where you are. We’ve been listening to what the audience is asking.”

“Lady Iris was getting a proper romance arc. Not just a series of mad sexual exploits and single episode infatuations with passing guest stars. A full on – and sweet Christ – a long-running affair beginning with a surprise kiss scene on Monday. Iris was about to fall madly and reluctantly in love with Victor Del Vayo.”

Oh, and did I mention Anthony had “grown up in Mayfair?”

Let’s not forget Anthony is also a writer…

And that Hattie’s loves some “[g]ood ol’ Irish tradition…” because her dad is from Galway.

Then there's this: “’The very sweet Sergeant Llewellyn,’ [Hattie] reminisced. ‘My personal favorite of Iris’s lovers…’”

And, of course, every single mention of Pride and Prejudice...

“[Hattie had] accidently seen [Anthony] in a production of Julius Caesar at The Old Vic last year during their summer break…He’d been arresting, engrossing, heart wrenching.”

Anthony’s character, Victor, wears a signet ring: “The ring was heavy silver. A human skull in profile with a ruby eye that could be spun in its socket.”

Okay, enough about the main characters.

Let's move on to those intimacy scenes…

“Everything felt off today.”

“If Stevie had thought they’d been lacking chemistry in round one, perhaps she’d decided to gift them with a bonding experience. A shared case of fake snogging and induced lockjaw.”

“And now suddenly… you’re touching for the first time in all these years. Lo and behold, caught off guard by the explosion of chemistry.”

“A nerve twitched under Anthony’s firm mouth. He’d well and truly lost the air of bored idleness now and when he put his hands on Hattie’s corseted waist and slammed his body up against hers, pressing her into the wall, there was nothing disjointed and indolent about the maneuver or the way her breath left her in a rush. The actual mechanics behind the lift and spin were controlled and almost shockingly gentle. He concealed one palm behind her back and took the full force of the collision with his own body."

“Hattie found herself treating that drop of perspiration as an almost spotting point, like a ballet dancer keeping their balance during a fouette.”

“A muscle in her neck was starting to cramp, as they paused there artfully for the cameras. She adjusted arching her back in an unscripted gesture that pressed their bodies closer. As her belly rubbed up over his and his sheltering arms flexed, a coiling full-bodied zing shivered through her like the subtlest flooding of spice and warmth and then a jolt of pure fizzing adrenaline… As Hattie watched, still oddly transfixed, his pupils dilated, just a bit."

“For once, or maybe the first time ever, [Hattie] wasn’t excruciatingly conscious of everyone’s watching eye. She felt frozen, distant from the surrounding scene yet conversely hyper aware of every angle and shiver and prickle of her own body…"

“The hallway, the cameras, the rest of the world, it all ceased to exist. Seconds were slipping into minutes.”

#lukola #nicola coughlan #luke newton #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only #mis-directed #lucy parker

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leilawanderingaround · 3 days ago

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Imagine Phainon abandoning his duty as the deliverancer for your cause...

They said geniuses hailed from the grove are nothing but a bunch of people who have lost their mind. One of them includes you.

The one who has angered the gods- they called you. Only it was enough to make Phainon curious. Surely you can't be that bad.

Arrogance, ambitious, heartless towards others, obsessive with forbidden knowledge. They scorn your existence, wishing for your demise yet follow your every order. Because they know it was the only way for you to stay alive.

"They shouldn't be alive to begin with"

"It was only by Cerces's grace that they still stand."

"The black tide failed to take back its creation again I see"

He imagines you to be this cold and fearsome leading figure, similar to that of Aglaea. But to his surprise, you were very... what to say... skittish?

You ignore him despite his ongoing attempts to talk to you, choosing to stay silent whenever he asked a question. Walking past him whenever you two cross paths. Or often locking the door of your study so he couldn't go in, and is even willing to skip meals just to avoid him.

"Reckless genius" he scolded inside his head as he found your door remained locked again during dinner time.

It's not like he come baring any ill intents. While yes, it's Aglaea's order to gather information. He doesn't plan on violating any rules or put anyone in harm way.

He just wished to learn more about you.

Anaxa- one of the few that you tolerate enough to barely talk to due to similar beliefs, have many time told him to drop it.

"They is not the type to bend easily. That idiot would rather die than have a proper talk to a Chrysos Heir like you" the sage said. "Best not to bother them..."

Too bad Phainon's patience has run dry at this point.

______

"So you found it..." Phainon could feel the gun's barrel pressed against the back of his head. The hero stays frozen, hands gripping the scroll tightly. His mind reeling from the information he just learned from all the scrolls inside your study. " I told you not to bother them. And you choose to ignore my warning"

Anaxa could feel the cold sweat running down his spine. He knows that the chosen ones have been sent here by the golden seamstress to find information about you but he never expected that he would be this reckless to just break in entering in board daylight, choosing the only day in the week when you weren't there to confront him.

"Did you know about this?" Phainon's voice sends tremble down Anaxa's arm. The sage swallows roughly before nodding.

"I am their partner in crime after all..." Anaxa said. His finger pressing slightly on the trigger but not enough to fire. He would like to avoid murder the deliverancer if possible. But if he insists on tattling to his allies, Anaxa wouldn't mind going down with him today just to ensure that you stay safe.

"All for you. Only for you." The sage thought as Phainon turn around. He wouldn't have anything if it wasn't for you. It's only right if he returns everything to you, for you.

"So you are saying that all we have been doing is all futile." Phainon's mind began racing. How many times did they do this? How many people have suffered and died just to continue this cursed cycle to continue? Has all he has done have been for naught?

"That I can't say..." Anaxa let out a breath he had been holding. The sage doesn't know the full extent of your research on the prophecy after all. You're not very willing to share, even with him- your closest confidant.

In a flash, Phainon turned around and promptly knocked Anaxa out cold on the floor before wending out of the room to find you. The one who could answer all of this.

_____

You knew he would come, you were waiting. Your arms crossed in front of your chest. You let out a sigh as the hero steps into your house after breaking the door down.

He stand in front of you, staring down. His blue eyes missing its usual warm gaze. Phainon's hands come to your shoulders, squeezing hard enough to bruised.

You have to stop yourself from groaning as you stare at him. Your heart beats like crazy inside of your ribcage.

" It doesn't matter" you thought. You could just start over the next cycle. And you won't fail again. But for now, you are willing to die.

Instead of the strike that you were hoping for, Phainon pull you closer, hugging your form. His hands trembling with unknown feeling.

"What do you need?" He ask. "To stop all of this... To safe everyone"

You were bewildered. What's happening here? You try to use your hand to push the hero away yet he hold you even closer, close enough that it was hard to breath properly.

"You need the core flames right? I will take them for you. I will bring you whatever you need. After that, we can get out of this together. Out of this cursed world..."

That day Phainon- the deliverancer disappeared. And someone don the mask of the Flame Reaver appeared.

#(•^°)/ burning down the kitchen #hsr phainon #phainon #phainon hsr #hsr x reader #phainon x reader #yandere phainon #yandere hsr #yandere phainon x reader #amphoreus #hsr anaxa #anaxa #anaxa x reader #anaxagoras #yandere anaxa #yandere anaxa x reader

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plainclothesdisaster · 19 minutes ago

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“What the hell am I looking at.”

Batman stands next to him, arms folded, appraising the same piece of plain notebook paper on the table. To the untrained eye it looks like someone has scrawled a handful of shitty doodles and notes on it. But to John Constantine’s eye? Well, he was thanking his very limited lucky stars that he didn’t have a personal encounter with whatever god or demon that had given that paper to Bats in the first place.

Batman frowns. “I don’t know. That’s what you’re here for.”

“And if I told you I don’t want to touch whatever this is with a ten foot pole?”

Batman points to a green sticky note stuck on the paper’s bottom corner.

Call the Hellblazer if you need a tutorial.

Well, fuck. So much for flying under the radar.

“So. You know what it is.” Bats says it as a statement not a question, which is, of course, accurate. John knew what it was before Batman even led him to the black table at the center of the Batcave, where the paper sat in the center like some delicate work of art. The whole cave smacked of ozone and ectoplasm from the second he walked in. It’s positively filled with potential energy on a cosmic scale, emanating from that single, annoyingly unassuming source.

“That,” John starts, resenting the no-smoking-in-the-Batcave rule now more than ever, “Is a summoning sigil. A very powerful summoning sigil. How in hell did you end up with it?”

Bats hands him yet another green sticky note. This one reads:

Use in cases of: Mind control, literal apocalypse (ONLY if my fault). That’s it. Nothing else. If you do I will know and I will permanently turn off the gravity in the Watchtower as payback.

Thought I’d save you the trouble of making my file yourself.

-D

P.S. No spoilers, John. :)

Bats re-folds his arms. “It was given to me by a coworker.”

It’s a contingency plan, John realizes. One of Batman’s trademark ideas that piss everyone off but he does anyway. Usually the League Members didn’t personally and willingly hand over their personal kryptonite, though. John certainly hadn’t. And there’s also the issue that most Leaguers kryptonite isn’t this powerful.

“Care to enlighten me which of your coworkers is on a first name basis with the Ancient of Time?”

“Hn.”

“Not ringing any bells? How about this then: which Leaguer is strong enough that their contingency plan is giving you the personal calling card of a god?”

“He knows you.”

And John is just so thrilled that two of his names showed up in the context of god-summoning. So neat for him. Not problematic in the slightest. What’s only slightly less problematic is that he doesn’t know who wrote the notes- none of the current Justice League members fit the bill. Not that he’s ever been good at keeping up with the cape parade, but he would have known if something this powerful stepped this close to his territory.

Unless…

“When you say coworker, what exactly do you mean?”

“Does it matter?”

“You don’t typically make contingency plans for non JL members.”

“He values his privacy.”

Not a member of the Justice League, then. Powerful enough to hide in plain sight and also have an Ancient on speed dial. Self aware enough to deliver this nuclear option of a contingency plan.

John knows who it is.

The only question left is why the fuck Batman has the Ancient of Space, King of all Ghosts, on his maintenance staff.

But he won’t ask that, because according to that cheeky little sticky note, Batman didn’t know. And John is not about to piss off an Ancient by spoiling his gig.

“Well Bats. If you end up needing to use it you just prick your finger, touch the circle, and say that bit of Latin there.” He waves his fingers at the scribbles, still unwilling to get any closer. “But I hope for all our sakes that you never need it.”

“And why’s that?”

John resists rolling his eyes. He doesn’t resist the urge to grab a cigarette and put it between his lips. He’s not planning on sticking around much longer anyways. “Because if you do, it means we’re fucked. Like, cosmically.”

Batman glares at the cigarette but decides not to comment.

“Look mate I don’t want to get involved in your hiring practices, but have you considered background checks?”

“I trust him.”

“I should hope so.”

John sighs. He can feel a headache coming on. Batman didn’t just hand out his trust willy-nilly, so the king in disguise must have done something to earn it. It’s not much solace, but he’ll take it.

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

#dp x dc #long post #of course I gotta get my scrunkly guy Constantine in here

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covenofagatha · 22 hours ago

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Do I wanna know? (Part 3)

Agatha and you have a talk about the future

Word count: 4k

Warnings: 69, oral, smut, angst (hopefully not as much), why would you ever talk about feelings/problems when you could just fuck instead

“What? What part?” you ask, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your own ears. “If it’s the City, it’s fine, that’s not far away, you could even stay here.”

Agatha purses her lips. “It’s in Albany.”

Your stomach drops. Two hours away by car on a good day, about four by train. Agatha has a pitiful look on her face and you want to scoff.

Of course she’s feeling sorry for you.

“Honey,” she starts, cool and calm as ever and it makes you fucking enraged. She reaches out to touch you again — why does she keep trying to do that? why doesn’t she realize that she isn’t going to fix anything? — but you shove her aside and scramble off the couch, beginning to pace with your head in your hands.

Is this better than the affair? She still lied to you. She still didn’t tell you about it, she’s still looking to get out. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you demand, pausing to look at her.��

Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t — I didn’t want to before it got real. I wasn’t even sure I was going to go, but my friend reached out and it’s a really good opportunity. The company took me out to dinner last night as an informal interview and I ended up staying the night. I didn’t think you’d come here, I thought you were mad at me or something. Baby, I was really worried about you.”

In any other situation, you’d feel touched by her concern, but it really just pisses you off even more. This isn’t about you. “I thought you were having an affair,” you say again and her face falls.

“I would never—”

You don’t even want to hear it. “Look, don’t change the subject, okay? The point is, you did this huge thing without even telling me and now — what? You’re moving to New York?”

Now she seems unable to meet your eyes, an uncharacteristic shyness radiating off her. “I haven’t even gotten the job yet.”

Your mind starts to whirl with the possibilities. “If you get it, are you going to take it?”

There’s a thick silence that hangs over you two for a moment and you can see the vein in her forehead pulse as she thinks about it. But her hesitation is all the answer you need.

“Okay,” you breathe. You don’t even know where your head is at — you’re so fucking mad, but you’re also so relieved that she isn’t cheating, but then now there’s this wrench that could possibly mean the end of things. You’re not going to let that happen. Dropping to your knees in front of her and finally touching her of your own accord with your palms flat on her legs, you earnestly look at her. “We can…we can figure it out, we will figure it out. I can come down on the weekends or you can come here or — I can transfer! I’ll transfer to somewhere in New York and we can get an apartment, just the two of us, and obviously I won’t be much help with the rent because it’s expensive as shit there—”

Agatha pulls you up by your cheeks and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. You lose yourself in the feeling of her lips against yours and you moan softly, everything slipping away for just a moment. In these five seconds, it’s just the two of you and nothing else can come between you.

But then she breaks away and sighs heavily, resting her forehead against yours. “You just started school here,” she says gently. “I can’t make you give that up. Don’t you like it?”

You shrug lazily. “It’s the first week. I’m not too attached. I’m sure somewhere there will be just as good.”

“What about your parents? What would you tell them?”

Why does it feel like she doesn’t want you there? You can’t help the frown tugging on your lips. “I’ll just say that I don’t like it at Westview. I’m sure I can come up with something. They’ll just want me to be happy.” Agatha makes you happy, but there’s a flicker of doubt growing in your stomach.

She cups your cheek and leans back so you’re able to see her eyes. They’re blue as the ocean, full of emotion, and glassy. “Why don’t you give it a few months, hm? I don’t want you to throw away your school and your family just for me. If you really don’t like it, then we can talk.”

“What if I just drop out of school and become your trophy wife? I’ll be such a good one, I’d wear nothing but an apron all day and make your favorite foods and then I can sit on your strap while you eat dinner.” You play it off like a joke, but deep down, you would be more than willing. You hope she says yes.

Agatha huffs out a laugh and sniffs, tracing a finger down the skin of your face like she’s trying to memorize it. “Wear a short little maid outfit that just happens to ride up and show off your bare cunt when you’re on your knees cleaning the floor?”

You hum and close your eyes in pure bliss at the thought. “See, now you get it. It would be so perfect, right?

“So perfect,” she agrees, but her smile lingers until it’s wistful. There’s a longing pang inside you, one that threatens to tear you open, but you push it down. “I know I haven’t gotten it yet, but I won’t take it,” she says quietly after a moment and your brows furrow in confusion. “If you don’t want me to take it, I won’t.”

Every single morsel of your body is screaming for you to ask her to stay. It would be so easy, and then you could just pretend that none of this — the suspicion, the lies, the sneaking around — never happened. Everything could go back to the way it was before.

But the slightest fear that she would start to resent you for it creeps into the back of your mind. Sure, she might not mind at first, but over time when her job here gets old and she’s unhappy, she’s going to blame you. She’s going to start to hate you for holding her back, and what if you’re not worth it?

The last thought hits you like a punch to the gut. Are you enough to keep her content if she stays? Are you enough to keep her happy?

You’re paralyzed and she’s looking at you expectantly, like it’s an easy fucking decision. You want to complain that it’s not fair for her to put this on you, that she should want to be with you so badly that she willingly gives up the new position for you, but maybe she’s having the same doubts.

The only thing you know is that you don’t want to end up like your parents, with a loveless marriage and a cold, empty house despite the family living in it and the bitter silence of words left unsaid haunting every moment. You don’t want this to become an open wound that festers until Agatha hates you for it.

“If it’s a better job and if you want it, you should take it,” you say, almost surprised by how eerily calm your voice sounds.

Agatha looks taken aback for just the slightest moment but nods. “You’re sure?”

No! Stay with me! I fucking love you!

“Yeah,” you rasp and she bends down to kiss you again, so sweetly that it hurts. She murmurs something against your lips but you don’t even think to ask what she says because you can’t stop the nausea climbing up your throat.

You jump back and run to the bathroom before vomiting in the toilet. You sink to the floor, shaking and sweating and trembling, and you’re vaguely aware of Agatha’s hands in your hair, holding it back, and telling you that everything is going to be alright. Is it?

She gets a wet washcloth and holds it against your head while you don’t move from your position, waiting to see if you have to puke again.

“Had too much to drink last night,” you mutter, feeling like you’re drunk all over again, when she asks if you’re feeling okay. “Thought you were cheating.”

You hear a heavy sigh behind you and tears prick your eyes. Is she disappointed? Does she think you’re being just a stupid kid? “I wouldn’t, honey. I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I—” She stops and strokes your hair instead.

It feels like there’s something she’s not saying, but maybe you’re just reading into it.

And then there’s your I love you while she was fucking you, still fresh in your mind. Do you say it again? Do you ask if she heard it? Or just wait until she says it first?

If she does. You can’t get these stupid insecurities and doubts out of your mind and it’s killing you.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?” she asks gently and you shake your head. “Come on, why don’t we get you into the shower and then into bed?”

You want to protest just to be petulant, but you’re just so fucking tired. “Okay, mommy,” you say and she sharply inhales, but pretends to be unaffected. Good to know that you can still get to her after you look like you’ve just been through hell.

She turns the water on and you numbly wait until she guides you up and helps you undress before you step into the shower. You almost buckle to the ground but Agatha holds you up, the sleeves of her blazer getting soaked, but she doesn’t even notice it.

It’s an awkward position, her on the outside of the tub and you barely standing up inside it, but she rubs your skin and you slowly feel warmth returning to your body.

You’re about to ask if she’ll get in with you — you see the way she can’t stop looking at your tits and you’re suddenly longing to feel her on you, a reminder that she is yours — when a phone rings.

Definitely not yours; your phone is always on silent.

Agatha curses and tells you she’ll be right back before disappearing from the bathroom. The cold feeling starts to grow back in your stomach, creeping up to your throat and gripping tightly.

“Yes — this is she!” you hear her say from the other room, her voice getting louder as she comes back into the bathroom. You look at her with wide eyes and she gives you a tight smile. “Oh, I did? Well, thank you very much, that is wonderful news.”

The person on the other line starts talking and you can only catch quick muffles of it, but from Agatha’s face, you already know.

“Of course, yes, hang on just one second,” she says and presses her phone against her shoulder to give you her full attention. Eye contact with her feels like a stab to the gut. “Honey, are you sure you’re okay with this? You can say no.”

Can you?

It’s on the tip of your tongue — it would be so easy to ask her to turn it down, so easy to ask her to choose you. She’s waiting for an answer but each drop of water on your skin feels like a chant: no. no. no. You know Agatha’s trying to remain neutral, but you can tell she wants the job, by the way she’s twitching her fingers and the barely concealed pleading look on her face and the way she’s holding her phone so tightly it’s making her veins pop out all bluish and purplish.

It’s clear that you cannot say no.

You’re not sure she would ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you would ever forgive yourself. You can’t ask her to throw away this opportunity, not for you.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you say hoarsely, feeling a lot like you just signed a death warrant.

But plenty of people do long distance, and two hours really isn’t that bad. Plus it just means that with all the waiting, the sex will be even hotter. Her moving away doesn’t mean anything.

And you can transfer at the end of the semester, so really you just have to make it a few months.

Agatha’s beam is one of pure gratitude and you know you made the right choice, but she’s back to talking on the phone and your little moment is interrupted. “Oh…two weeks? Of course, I can totally do that.”

A flash of panic bolts through you and you mouth two weeks? at her. She purses her lips and shrugs apologetically, like that’s supposed to make you feel better.

The rest of her phone call is blurred out by your sudden inability to hear anything but the rush of the water that has suddenly become so loud it’s taken over all your thoughts and you don’t even realize that she’s hung up and cleaned you off and gotten you out of the shower until you’re shivering and naked and Agatha’s wrapping a towel around you.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she murmurs because you’re now uncontrollably shaking and you think you might be crying a little. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She presses kisses to your forehead and cheeks and nose, muttering the same sort of sentients, while the towel around you slips to the floor when you throw your arms around her and cling to her like she’s your lifeline, like she’s everything you’ll ever need, and she holds you back so tightly you think you might fuse into one being.

The two of you stand there like that until your skin gets clammy and pruney and your eyes are raw. When you finally pull back, your muscles ache and the front of Agatha’s clothes are absolutely soaked, so you tug on them until she gets the message and begins to strip.

Her blazer comes off, and then she untucks her blouse from her pants and slowly begins to unbutton it, each time revealing more of her perfect pale skin. You can see the faint outlines of her ribs and then her stomach, the red bites from two days ago still there, albeit faded.

There’s no mistaking the “M” though. A hot thrill runs through you despite the solemn air between you and a fire starts to flicker to life in your stomach. You reach out to trace your mark as if in a trance and Agatha’s breath hitches.

Swallowing roughly, your eyes dart up to meet her already-dark ones. “We should talk about the job, right? Figure out what it means for us?” you ask, but even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel the atmosphere shift into something else.

“Right,” Agatha nods, but she can’t stop looking down at your pebbled nipples — from the cold or from her?

When she surges forward, clasps your cheeks, and pulls your mouth to hers, you know that it’s both. The kiss is messy, teeth knocking against each other and her tongue invading your mouth and breathing each other’s air, and you wrap your arms around her neck to bring her even closer. She didn’t get to take her pants off yet, but it feels absolutely delicious when she slides a thigh between yours and you grind down onto it. Your nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and you can’t help but moan into her open mouth.

Fire roars beneath your skin, spreading to all over your body, and you suddenly just need more. You need her to overwhelm all your senses until you can’t fucking think about anything else, not the job, not her moving, not the fact that you could’ve stopped this but didn’t — you just want her.

She grabs onto your hip to guide you against her leg and you whine as she sucks on your tongue. Her other hand comes up to cup your right breast and roll your nipple and you mewl and jerk against her. She tugs and it feels directly connected to your cunt because you pulse and it only gets worse when she flexes her thigh underneath you.

“Bed — bedroom, please,” you choke out and her mouth doesn’t leave yours, walking you backwards into the bedroom and not stopping until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

Agatha pushes you down onto it, the duvet beneath you instantly getting wet from your dripping pussy, and she shimmies off her pants and underwear and sinks to her knees in front of you. It’s a sight to behold, her looking up at you from the floor like she wants to devour you, like she would hang the stars and the sun in the sky for you and it still wouldn’t be enough. The power running through you from the heat in her eyes and the ragged heaving of her red chest and the way she tosses her hair over her shoulder is enough to drive you mad.

“You’re so perfect,” she breathes and it only makes you wetter. You buck your hips against the bed, trying to get some stimulation to your now-aching clit, but it’s not even close to enough.

But it’s not even five seconds later when she leans in, inhales the scent of you deeply, and then drags her flattened tongue through your folds, making you keen and arch your back. She is so good with her mouth and she never fails to remind you.

“Fuck, Agatha,” you gasp, and you usually don’t call her by her name during sex, normally opting for mommy, but you need the intimacy right now. You need to feel like this is real.

She groans into you and teases her tongue around your clit, never quite touching it, and you bury your fingers in her hair and gently pull on it. Her eyes flick up to yours as a warning and you loosen your grip. Agatha gives you an almost imperceptible nod and rewards you with one long lick to your clit and your head falls back.

You can no longer hold yourself up when she thrusts her tongue inside you, and you fall back onto the bed, instantly clenching around you. She feels so fucking good, her tongue curling inside your cunt and her nose brushing against your clit, and you angle a leg up on the bed so she can reach deeper inside you. “God, yes,” you sigh, and your orgasm is slowly starting to build up with each roll of your hips and each time your stomach tightens.

But something is missing — you can’t help your thoughts from straying and you just need more.

So you stop her and she looks up at you, the entire bottom half of her face and nose absolutely covered with you. Your clit throbs and you sit up.

“I need — I want — wanna taste you too, Aggie,” you whine and you’ve never used that nickname before, but you think she likes it because she lunges up, capturing your lips with hers again, and knocking you straight back onto the bed.

She nods while still kissing you, whispering, “Fuck, honey, how are you so hot? How are you so perfect for me?”

You clench around nothing and you claw at her shoulder blades frantically, knowing what you need but not how to ask for it.

But Agatha knows — she always knows what you want, except for when it really counts apparently. She gets off of you and scooches on her knees until she’s situated behind your head, facing your body. And then she moves to frame your face with her thighs, her glistening cunt hovering right above your face, and she bends over to pry your legs open before leaning down and sucking on your clit roughly.

You squirm and palm her ass to pull her down to your mouth, and at your first lick through her folds, she moans right into you, the vibrations making you jump. Eating her out while also being eaten out is an experience like no other you’ve ever had. Every single thing you do to her affects her, which in turn, affects you.

The positive feedback loop has both of you sloppily mouthing at each other’s cunts, mimicking motions while also losing all sense of rhythm, and when she digs her fingernails into your thighs and scrapes her teeth against your clit, you let out a high-pitched sound that has her riding your face furiously.

Agatha is getting louder too — you can feel it more than hear it, and you are completely drunk on her smell and her taste and how good she’s making you feel. You dip your tongue into her entrance, stroking against her convulsing walls before swirling around her clit and she pauses what she’s doing for a moment to just breathe heavily against your pussy before diving back in.

All thoughts of anything else are completely out of your foggy mind and you feel like you’re floating, not able to focus on anything else besides Agatha.

If you would’ve known that your dad having an affair would have led to you having the hottest sex with the hottest woman ever, you definitely wouldn’t have been so mad about it.

“Oh, god, baby, you’re so good,” she says into your cunt and it only makes you grind up harder. She matches your intensity, riding your face fast, her clit dragging against your tongue. You groan in agreement and her stomach glides against your nipples while hers do the same and you know that it won’t be long before either of you cum.

She nips at your inner thigh before plunging her tongue inside you and it has your hips bucking. “Fuck — Agatha,” you cry, barely able to keep eating her out because of how stimulated you are. Pleasure is racing through every ridge of your body and your head is spinning.

“That’s right, honey,” she pants, lathering her tongue all over your clit. “Cum for me.”

The tension inside you snaps and you cum, riding out the immense wave as she continues lapping at you and you suck on her clit, triggering her own orgasm. There’s a gush of wetness all over your face and she keeps rolling her hips, chasing the last tendrils.

That was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, you think, and when Agatha flops down onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily, you think she might agree.

“Fuck,” you say, completely wiped out, and Agatha chuckles weakly in response, reaching a hand out to rest her fingers against yours, not quite interlocking them. The two of you lay like that for what feels like forever, just soaking in the silence and the comfort of being right next to each other.

You’re not sure who moves first — maybe it’s a mutual decision, but eventually you slide up to the pillows and Agatha turns around and moves next to you. Rotating onto your side, you hear the sheets rustle behind you and right on cue, Agatha’s arm snakes around you, holding you close enough to her that you can feel her heartbeat against your back and her breath on your neck.

She kisses the top of your ear and you snuggle back against her. You know that you should put on clothes and clean up your mess, but for right now, you just need to feel her against you.

“We’re going to be okay?” you ask timidly. It seems like it was so long ago that you were spiraling out of control because you thought she was cheating.

Agatha’s arm tightens around yours. “We’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

And you think you might actually believe her.

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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wcnderlnds · 1 day ago

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love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you’re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

——

The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt?

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect.

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

#kwon ji yong #g dragon #g dragon x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #bigbang x reader #my fics

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itneverendshere · 9 hours ago

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need your confession - brother bsf! rafe

pairing: kelce's sister x hockey!rafe warnings: smut <3

part of this universe

It was the biggest game of the season so far—your university’s team against their biggest rivals.

You, however, were sitting on the bleachers, arms crossed, wrapped in your thickest winter jacket, trying to not to shiver like a little bitch, your legs pratically fusing to the metal. Next to you, Kie had a bucket of popcorn balanced on her lap, one boot casually propped against the row in front of you like she wasn’t on the verge of hypothermia too.

“Tell me again why we’re here when we could be literally anywhere else?” she asked, tossing a kernel into her mouth.

You exhaled sharply, your breath visible in the freezing air, eyes locked on the opposing team’s bench. “Kelce.”

You’d never missed a game in your life, the stupid sport had somehow made it’s way into your heart. It was practically coded into your DNA after a lifetime of being dragged to them, of screaming at refs, of celebrating wins and mourning losses. Although today you were more than tempted to do so, but you came, just to prove—to no one in particular—that you weren’t a coward.

Out there, somewhere in that sea of helmets and shoulder pads, was your biggest one-night-stand mistake. You were less than excited to see him skate across the ice.

Kie followed your gaze, pausing mid-chew. “Oh. Oh.” She swallowed. “You didn’t tell me he was on their team.”

“Because I was trying to block it out,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

There he was, stretching like he was God’s gift to hockey, that same smug smirk on his face that made you want to throw up in your mouth a little. The same guy you made the mistake of hooking up with last summer, back when you were blissfully unaware he was a complete waste of oxygen. Before you knew he played rough on and off the ice, throwing cheap shots at your brother, running his mouth, and generally acting like a walking red flag with skates.

“You have the worst taste in men,” Kie whispered dramatically, shaking her head.

“I was young and dumb,” you defended. “And drunk. Mostly drunk.”

“Still. You hooked up with a guy Kelce would literally throw himself into a fire to destroy. I’m surprised the universe hasn’t imploded.”

You groaned, sinking deeper into your jacket.

Five minutes later you were gripping the railing, heart thudding as the teams lined up for the puck drop. The second your brother skated out, you tensed. Because you knew that motherfucker was going to say something.

And sure enough, after the first few plays, you saw him slide up beside Kelce during a pause in the game. His head tilted, mouth moving. Oh fuck no.

Kelce straightened up, grip tightening on his stick.

“Oh, shit,” Kie muttered, leaning forward. “Is he—?”

You braced yourself, waiting for your brother to lose it—waiting for him to drop his gloves and snap.

But before he could react, Rafe did.

One second, your brother looked ready to commit a felony, and the next, Rafe skated between them, shoving your biggest mistake back with his stick. Not hard, but enough to make a point. Enough to say, not fucking happening.

You blinked.

“What the fuck?” Kie breathed. “Did he just—?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to understand it too.”

Your brother shot Rafe a look, something between confused and annoyed, but Rafe ignored it, leaning in to say something low enough that even the refs weren’t paying attention. You couldn’t see his face, but whatever he said made the other guy’s smirk falter.

That did things to you.

The second the puck dropped, Rafe dropped him.

You hardly saw it happen. One moment, your biggest mistake was skating forward, and the next—bam. Rafe’s fist connected with his face so fast you almost missed it.

Kie sucked in a breath beside you. “Shit.”

You shot up from your seat, eyes still wide, watching as the guy hit the ice like a sack of bricks. Flat on his back, motionless for a second, before he started to stir.

Rafe just stood over him, still gripping the front of his jersey, still looking for a reason to throw another punch. His helmet was tilted back slightly, visor pushed up just enough to reveal that look—that look—the one that usually meant someone was about to get their ass beat.

The refs were already swarming, whistles blaring, but Rafe wasn’t moving.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, gripping the railing.

Kie was still frozen. “That was—wow. That was—”

“Unhinged?”

“Hot,” she finished.

You whipped your head toward her. “What?”

She raised her hands. “Unhinged, sure, but also—”

You groaned, eyes snapping back to the ice just in time to see the refs finally pry Rafe off the guy, shoving him toward the penalty box. He went willingly, shaking his hand out like his knuckles didn’t ache from the impact, that same fucking smirk plastered on his face as he skated off.

Then, because he was an asshole, he looked right at you. Through the glass, through the crowd—right into your fucking soul.

And winked.

You felt your entire body heat up, which pissed you off because fuck Rafe Cameron. Fuck his stupid protective streak. Fuck his broad shoulders and that stupid confident smirk and— You were sitting way too fucking close to the penalty box.

Close enough that when he stepped inside, he barely had to turn his head to see you.

You were still gripping the railing, eyes narrowed.

Rafe sat down, leaned back, then tipped his head toward you—he was expecting a thank-you.

You scowled. “Are you insane?”

It didn’t even matter that Rafe Cameron was built like a linebacker or that he had at least five inches on you. You were prepared to climb his ass like a tree just to wring his stupid, smug neck.

He smirked, rolling his shoulders like knocking someone out was just another Tuesday for him.

“I mean, I’ve been told,” he said, voice muffled through the glass, “but you're welcome, princess.”

Your mouth actually dropped open.

Kie choked on a laugh beside you.

“You—you think I’m gonna thank you?” you seethed, standing up so fast the people behind you flinched in their seats. “You just got benched for ten minutes.”

Rafe shrugged, running a hand over his chin like he wasn’t even listening to you. “Worth it.”

You nearly groaned at how good he looked with his helmet off, cheeks flushed from the cold, blue eyes sharper than usual.

“You can’t do that.

“Can’t protect my girlfriend’s reputation?”

“Stop calling me that,” you hissed, wishing there wasn’t a glass stopping you from punching his face.

“What? I thought we were still doin' that.”

“We were never doing that.”

“We definitely were,” he countered, tilting his head. “Y'were all over me last week, princess.”

“Stop it.”

“Habit,” he said, so fucking nonchalant.

“Drop it.”

“Can’t.” He grinned, giddy, like this was his favorite thing in the world. “Kinda like it.”

Your eye twitched.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. “You are so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Heroic?”

Kie wheezed.

“You volunteered to be my fake boyfriend.”

Okay so you were lying through your teeth now.

“You begged,” he corrected, like the little shit he was. “Practically threw yourself at me.”

Kie was actually crying.

You clenched your jaw so tight your teeth hurt. “I asked you one time to pretend to be my boyfriend because some guy wouldn’t take a hint.”

“And I did an amazing job,” Rafe said, nodding like he deserved a fucking trophy.

“You got into a pissing contest with him,” you deadpanned.

His grin widened. “And he backed off, didn’t he?”

You made a sound so aggressive that Kie clamped a hand over her mouth.

Kie nudged you. “You’re staring.”

“I’m glaring,” you corrected.

You made a deeply frustrated noise, something that probably wasn’t human, something that just encouraged him further. Rafe looked so fucking smug, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, like he thrived off it.

The ref skated over then, tapping the glass with the butt of his stick. “Cameron, quit flirting and focus.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, tapping his stick against the glass once before turning back to the ice, still grinning.

You slumped into your seat, suddenly exhausted.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

Later, at the victory party, you were still ignoring him, not that it was stopping him.

Rafe had been glued to your side all night, trailing after you like a fucking golden retriever, hands always on you—guiding you through the crowd, resting on your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your jacket just because he could.

And you—you were trying so fucking hard to stay mad. To hold onto your annoyance, to remind yourself that you didn’t ask him to knock a guy out in front of thousands of people just because he ran his mouth.

But he was making it impossible. Especially now, when he slid up behind you, arms sneaking around your waist, voice warm against your ear. “Still mad at me, girlfriend?”

You stiffened, but he just laughed, squeezing your sides before you could pull away. “Thought you’d be a little more appreciative. Y’know, considering I defended your honor.”

You turned in his arms, narrowing your eyes. “We are not together.”

His hands slid lower, settling on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Fuck, he was so fine, disgustingly fine. The kind of fine that made you want to throw something at him just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that your body loved being near his.

You scowled.

Rafe just smiled. “Y’look real pretty tonight, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you damn near saw your past life. “Shut up.”

Rafe just grinned, fingers flexing against your hips like he had any fucking right. You smacked his hands, stepping back, but he just reeled you back in like a fish caught on his line.

“You are so annoying,” you hissed, trying to peel his hands off you like they were stuck with super glue. “Let me go.”

“Nah,” Rafe said, cocky as ever, grip tightening just to piss you off. “I kinda like it here.”

You made an indignant noise, smacking his chest this time, but that only made him chuckle. You wanted to scream, maybe—kiss him a little, which was exactly why you needed to stay the fuck away.

Some girl passing by stopped, looking between you two with a dreamy little smile. “Oh my God, you guys are so cute together.”

Rafe beamed, like he’d just won a fucking award. “Right?”

“No,” you snapped, shoving at his arms. “Don’t encourage him.”

The girl just giggled and walked off, and you were left fuming while Rafe watched, amused.

“You’re still enjoying this way too much,” you accused, crossing your arms.

“‘Cause it’s fun, princess,” he teased, hands still resting on your waist, like they fucking belonged there. “Y’get all riled up. It’s cute.”

Your throat hurt in a way that had you wanting to actually fight God.

“I’m about to get real uncute if you don’t back up.”

Rafe smirked, ducking his head like he had a secret to tell. “You sure?” His voice was low, sweet like he thought he could charm you.

You shoved at his chest hard, and he finally let go, but not without laughing to himself like this whole thing was so fucking funny.

“Go bother someone else, Rafe.”

“But you’re my favorite,” he shot back way too fast, and you hated that your stomach flipped like a damn pancake.

Your jaw dropped. You smacked his arm so fast he actually flinched.

“Don’t start,” you warned, but Rafe lived to start shit.

“Not my fault you like it,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits. “I don’t like it.”

Rafe just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Mhm.”

You scowled, about to curse him out properly, but before you could, his fingers brushed your waist again—light, teasing, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You slapped his hand away so fast it echoed.

“Stop.”

Rafe grinned, like your suffering was his favorite form of entertainment.

“What? ‘S not my fault you’re so touchable.”

You gasped, actually gasped, because what the fuck kind of line—

“If you don’t stop this shit—”

“What?” He leaned in, voice low, too close, like he wanted you to feel the words. “You gonna hit me? Y’know I like it rough.”

You nearly malfunctioned, body glitching, brain buffering, eyes blinking at him like he had lost his goddamn mind.

“Don’t—” You inhaled so sharply your lungs burned. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again.”

Before you could even form a proper death threat, his hand curled around your wrist, just enough to stop you. To still you.

Jesus Christ, his hands were warm.

Big and solid and warm, even in this freezing-ass party house, even with the cheap beer and half-melted ice lining the countertops. His fingers pressed lightly into the inside of your wrist, just above where your pulse was doing its best impression of a goddamn hockey buzzer.

His other hand found your waist again.

Your breath hitched and you hated that he noticed.

“Knew you liked me, princess.”

“You’re delusional,” you snapped, jerking your hand back, but he just tsked, his grip firm but easy, he knew you weren’t actually trying.

He pulled you closer. Just an inch, enough to make you feel him.

His voice dropped lower. “Y’know,” he murmured, lips just brushing your ear, “You sure let me touch you a lot.”

Your spine snapped straight.

“I don’t,” you gritted out.

His fingers flexed on your waist. “No?”

“No.”

“Then stop me.”

Oh, you wanted to, you should have.

But you hesitated for just a second too long, because he was too close. Too solid. Too much of everything you swore you didn’t want, but now, right now, standing in the middle of a party where nothing else existed but him—

You didn’t move.

And Rafe knew it.

His smirk turned slow, lazy, and then—oh, you bastard—he tipped his chin down, catching your gaze with his like he dared you to look away.

You couldn’t.

Your pulse was a war drum against your ribs, your breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl, because he was going to do it.

He was going to—

His lips came down against yours, no hesitation. No teasing. He’d been waiting for this, he knew you had, too.

You didn’t have time to process before his tongue swept past your lips, and—fuck—your knees almost buckled.

Because Rafe Cameron kissed like he did everything else.

His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, this wasn’t enough. His other hand cradled the side of your face, tilting your head up so he could kiss you deeper, pressing and taking like he already knew you’d let him. He knew exactly where to touch, how to hold you so you wouldn’t dare pull away.

Then— oh —his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, slow, before slipping past, deepening the kiss like he was starving for it.

Your whole body reacted.

It shot straight down your spine, pooling low in your stomach, Rafe wasn’t giving you a second to think—his lips moved against yours in that filthy rhythm, his tongue teasing, stroking against yours, coaxing a sound from your throat that you hadn’t meant to make.

That did something to him.

His hands tightened, one splaying across the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, the other sliding up to your neck, angling your head just how he wanted—deeper, messier.

And, God help you, you let him.

Because fuck, he kissed so good.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, the sound needy. His teeth scraped lightly against your bottom lip, biting just enough to make you gasp, and he took advantage—kissing you deeper, he wanted that little sound, he’d do whatever it took to pull more from you.

His fingers sliding down—tracing the curve of your ribs, teasing the edge of your top like he was thinking about pulling it off right here.

Then he changed the rhythm, slowing down, torturously. His tongue tangled with yours in a slow tease; he wanted to make you feel every second of it, he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He kissed like he was made for it.

Rafe tilted his head, lips dragging along your jaw, down to your neck, where he bit, hard enough to make your breath hitch.

“Knew you'd let me.”

Your chest heaved, your whole body felt wrecked, and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. You should have slapped him, pushed him away.

Instead, you wanted more.

So you rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your chest against his, searching for friction—and shit, Rafe felt it. His entire body shuddered, his breath stuttering as he realized—no bra. Just you, warm, your nipples pebbled from the cold, pressing right against his chest through your flimsy top.

Rafe groaned into your mouth—wrecked. His grip on your waist nearly dropped for the shock.

Your hands slid up, nails scraping hard against the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, tugging—and fuck, that sent him feral.

He swallowed your gasp, mouth slanting over yours, tongue slipping inside—hot and wet. His tongue teased, then took, deep and demanding, like he owned you.

He pulled back just enough to spit—hot and slick—right into your tongue, eyes burning as he murmured, “Take it.”

And you did, you fucking did.

Because you were gone—ruined—nothing but the overwhelming need to feel him everywhere.

Rafe groaned, like he couldn’t believe you just let him do that, then devoured you again, tongue licking into your mouth like he wanted to live there.

His hands wandered, slipping under your top, tracing up your bare sides, thumbs barely brushing the underside of your tits—so close but not enough, teasing just to drive himself insane.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice ragged. His forehead pressed against yours, hands still gripping you tight,. “Gonna be the fuckin' death of me.”

And God help you, you wanted to finish the job in the middle of this hallway.

His forehead was still pressed to yours, his breaths coming hot against your spit-slick lips.

You were so close, your chests heaving together, and just to be a brat, you rolled your hips just a little.

Rafe let out a guttural groan, his hands flying down to grab your ass, yanking you against him so hard you swore you felt his pulse everywhere.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he groaned, mouth dropping open against your throat.

His forehead pressed to your shoulder, his entire body shuddering as his thumbs finally, finally swiped over your nipples, dragging over the soft, sensitive skin.

“You tryin' to make me lose my shit?”

“Maybe.”

Rafe moved, backing you up until your spine hit the wall, one knee pushing between your legs, parting them like he had every fucking right.

His tongue was relentless, fucking into your mouth in deep, filthy strokes, like he wanted you to choke on it, wanted you messy. His spit dribbled from the corner of your lips as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders, hard enough to leave marks, and fuck, Rafe loved it. He groaned into your mouth, hips grinding against yours, chasing the friction like a man starved.

“Y'like teasing me, huh?” he panted, dragging his mouth down your jaw, nipping at your pulse, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His voice was strained. "Makin' me wanna fuck you stupid?”

You whimpered.

That was all he needed.

His hands yanked your hips closer, grinding you against his thigh, right there, and fuck, you felt everything—felt how hard he was, how badly he wanted you.

You wanted him just as bad.

“Rafe—” you gasped, head tilting back against the wall, body burning.

He grinned against your throat, smug and dark. “There’s my girl.”

You whined, nails scraping against the back of his neck, and Rafe swore.

“Gonna fuckin' kill me,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your collarbone, his hands now fully cupping your tits, squeezing like he needed to feel every inch of you.

Your hips rocked against him, your body completely shameless, seeking out every bit of friction you could get. The slick between your thighs was unbearable, and his thigh between your legs was making it so much worse.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you groaned, and that did it. That fucking did it.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing your head back so he could drown you in another filthy kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating, possessive, his spit mixing with yours until it was dripping down your chin.

He loved it—loved you like this, breathless, wrecked, nails digging into his back, chest pressing flush against his like you were trying to fuse your body to his.

Rafe wasn’t even thinking anymore, his hips rutted against yours, his hands gripping your ass like he wanted to leave bruises, like he needed you to feel him tomorrow.

He broke the kiss, just enough to look at you, and fuck, he’d never seen anything hotter—lips swollen, spit everywhere, your breath all shaky and uneven.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours, his fingers slipping lower, teasing. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

His thigh flexed between your legs, and you gasped, body jolting, the friction was too good, too much, and Rafe fucking felt it. His smirk was nothing short of wicked as he did it again, pressing you harder against the wall, grinding his leg up into you.

“That feel good, baby?”

You could barely get the word out. “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He kissed you again, this time slower, his tongue licking into your mouth in long, lazy strokes, he had all the time in the world to ruin you. One of his hands slid up, fingers wrapping around your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, holding you in place.

Your pulse hammered against his palm. Rafe felt it. He fucking loved it.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your jaw, his other hand still gripping your waist, still rocking you against his thigh. His knee nudged up higher, pressing right where you needed him most, and your fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Rafe—”

He grinned against your lips. “That’s it, baby.”

Your brain was dead, but somewhere in the mess of it all, one clear thought hit you—

Of course he was the type of guy to talk you through it.

Of course, Rafe fucking Cameron would be the kind of guy who couldn’t just let you fall apart on your own. No, he had to be right there, dragging you through it, forcing you to hear every filthy, possessive word dripping from his lips.

The pressure between your legs was building, tight in your tummy, and you didn’t care that you were still in a fucking hallway, that anyone could walk by. You were too lost in him.

Rafe must’ve seen it on your face because his smirk faded. His fingers tightened just a little around your throat, his thigh flexing again, and fuck—

You whimpered, your hips rolling against him, chasing more, more, more.

Rafe groaned, his forehead pressing to yours, his lips brushing yours as he panted.

“God, fuckin' love you like this,” he muttered.

Just to wreck you further, he tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his, his blue eyes dark.

“You’re shakin',” His tone was smug, satisfied, “You gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was pure sin. “Just like this?”

You gasped, pleasure sparking like electricity through your veins, and Rafe smirked—because he already knew the answer.

His grip on your throat tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath hitch, to make you dizzy with it.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t ya?” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, eating up the way you moaned against his mouth. “So fuckin' desperate for me you’re about to come like this—rubbin' yourself on my thigh like a needy little thing.”

You should’ve been embarrassed, should’ve cared that you were still standing in a fucking hallway, grinding against him like you’d lost every ounce of dignity.

“Tell me, princess,” he growled, his thigh flexing between your legs, making you bite your lip. “Did that motherfucker ever make y'feel like this?”

You didn’t regist the words at first, but then you realized Rafe wasn’t just asking—he needed to hear it.

Your breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders. “No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “Never—fuck—never like this.”

That was all he needed.

His grip tightened, his hands sliding down to grab your ass, dragging you against him harder, rougher, making you moan into his mouth.

“Didn’t fuckin' think so,” he muttered, his teeth grazing your jaw, “That’s my pretty girl,” he coaxed, his lips still dragging down your throat.

Your body tensed, thights closing around his.You gasped, back arching against the wall, fingers pulling at his shirt.

Your breath came in desperate, uneven gasps.

He couldn’t just let you have it.

No, Rafe fucking Cameron had to drag it out—had to make sure you felt every last second of it, had to talk you through it like he got off on watching you break.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his grip on your hips bruising as he forced you to keep moving against him, his thigh flexing up to meet you with every devastating grind. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

You whimpered, your entire body on the verge of collapse, pleasure building so deep that it almost hurt.

His fingers slipped under your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him, to see the way his blue eyes were blown with want.

“That’s it,” he murmured as a wrecked sound ripped from your throat, your body arching against his, because fuck, fuck, fuck—you were still right there.

Your breath hitched, your legs trembled, your mind blanking.

“Oh, fuck—” he groaned, feeling you shake apart in his hands, eating gup every twitch, every little gasp. His lips pressing against your cheek, murmuring filthy, wrecked praises against your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, his voice thick with pride, “Look at you.”

Your body was still buzzing, your breath coming in uneven gasps, your legs shaking where they were wrapped around Rafe’s waist. His forehead still pressed against yours when your phone rang.

The shrill sound cut through the post orgasm haze in your brain like a bucket of freezing water to the face, bringing you to the absolute insanity of what had just happened.

Oh, fuck.

Rafe groaned, annoyed, pressing his lips to yours again, not ready to let you go. “Ignore it,” he muttered, “They’ll call back.”

But then you saw the name on the screen.

Kie.

Your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” you whispered, your hands immediately shoving at Rafe’s shoulders, wiggling out of his grip. He hesitated for half a second before letting you down, his brows furrowing at how suddenly you pulled away.

Your legs barely worked, body was still tingling from the way he had just ruined you, but you forced yourself to stumble back, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Kie?”

“Thank God,” her voice came rushed, stressed. “It’s—fuck, it’s Liv. She got rookied.”

Rookied.

You knew what that meant. Some asshole upperclassmen had put her through some fucked-up hazing bullshit, and now she was probably wasted, crying, or worse.

“I’m coming,” you said instantly, already running a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look less like you’d just been getting wrecked in a hallway.

Rafe was watching you.

You could feel his eyes on you, his body still so close, his hands still flexing at his sides like he wanted to grab you, pull you back in.

But you couldn’t think about that.

Holy shit.

Your childhood friend, your brother’s best friend, the guy you had a crush on when you were twelve.

You had just grinded on Rafe Cameron like a desperate whore and fucking came on his thigh in the middle of a goddamn hallway.

You felt your face go hot, embarrassment sinking in like a slow-moving poison, drowning out the last bit of euphoria still clinging to your skin.

Rafe stepped closer, his brows drawing together, picking up on your demeanor.

“You okay?” His voice was still rough, breathless.

You swallowed hard, shoving your phone into your pocket. “I—I have to go.”

His frown deepened. “What? Now?”

You nodded, your hands shaking as you avoided his eyes, you couldn’t look at him.

“I have to take Liv home,” you rushed out, already stepping away, trying to put distance between you and the biggest mistake of your life.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Need help?”

His voice was genuine, and for some reason, that made your stomach twist even more.

“No,” you said shaking your head. “I—I got it.”

His eyes searched yours, you knew exactly what he was looking for—regret.

You didn’t say another word. You just turned and walked away, ignoring the way your legs still trembled, ignoring the way your lips still tingled from his kiss, ignoring the way your heart slammed against your ribs because holy shit, what the fuck did you just do?

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bug-swarm · 2 days ago

Text

"Unlawful pornography” is deliberately left open — meaning, it can and will be used to apply to literature/printed media.

.... no. It is not.

You very conveniently did not include this page where it is explicitly defined and only includes visual depictions or images.

If you actually are a lawyer, you should be well aware that the definitions of the terms used in a law are usually grouped together either near the beginning or the end of the law/bill/set of related laws/etc. You ought to have checked the definition section before posting about this.

Additionally, the parts of that bill that are not underlined, are already the law in Oklahoma. The underlined parts are the changes this bill is proposing. So, the part about adults playing minors? Already the law and this bill does not edit that. Also the vast majority of the part you called "the amendments" are already the law unchanged.

And lastly, you will notice that every part of this law has a provision that excludes works that have serious literary, artistic, educational, political, or scientific purposes of value. If you aren't aware of the federal obscenity law, you might mot have come across this phrase before. But I have and it's been litigated multiple times in federal courts and comes directly from a supreme court decision, Miller v. California, along with the other 2 parts of the Miller test. You might want to brush up on your supreme court precedent cases and federal obscenity laws if you aren't familiar with this clause. But in practice, basically any written fiction novel will always pass the bar of having serious literary and artistic value (outside of possibly the most extreme examples you could possibly think of. Its unclear. There isn't a ton of court precedent for this type of thing, and most of the ones that are about something fictional predate the Miller test)

And yeah, its a dangerous bill. Im with you there. Banning pornography and calling it obscenity is incredibly dangerous censorship. But it in no way can be applied to written depictions like ACOTAR.

Edit: you blocked me and then replied with arguments so i guess you don't want your argument corrected.

The law very clearly is not limited to CSAM.

Im aware. Its a porn ban dressed up to pretend its about CSAM. I literally said that even in my first reply

Including but not limited to” does include written media. Point to where “visual” depictions is limited strictly to photographs? Screens?

Well for 1, if it included written works, a fuck ton of books and fanfiction would be considered child pornography in oklahoma right now under the current law and since they do not, that is not true. and 2: the author's guild explicitly calls out the fact that it doesn't apply to the written parts of a work. Are you saying you are a better lawyer than theirs? Or any of the other lawyers that have weighed in on this in the last day?

That language, when broken down, requires assessment not only of national standards but also community standards — so what happens when a local community decides trans representation is “obscene?” They get to restrict it. And, language added into subsection (E) makes that clear. Oklahoma’s standards will be used to determine what is and is not obscene.

Correct. That is already the current law as written. That has been the law for decades. That does not apply to the internet at large. And has so far, not been used that way anywhere in the US. At worst, oklahoma would get banned from using more of the internet than they already are. Which i repeat, the absolute worst case scenario here (barring overturning supreme court precedents) is that oklahoma gets banned from parts of the internet and might not be able to read some romance books, provided that there is a sudden unprecedented extreme shift in interpretation of the term visual depictions

As for the rest about it being an attempt to trigger the supreme court to overturn the court precedents, yeah Im aware. But your post does not say that at all. Not even a little bit. Your post says that the bill "would make writing/publishing/owning an explicit romance book a felony." It tries to use proship rhetoric to fearmonger about this bill (that you even admit has next to no chance of passing and would be met with immediate being sued over on first amendment grounds!). There is nothing "made clear" to say that you were trying to talk about overturning supreme court precedent possibilities. It definitely was not "meant to draw the connections between the law as is and the amendments written in a high level, generalized format". You're backtracking because you got called out

And yeah, i was condescending, because a lawyer should know to read the definition of terms. I thought you didn't bother to read them. Instead you just did not apply any kind of current understanding of the law because you imagined that you were arguing about a case where supreme court precedent was thrown out, which you were not, and didn't bother to make note of that anywhere. You also seemed to think that I was saying that the bill was about CSAM, which I wasn't and had explicitly stated so already.

For all those who complain about explicit “smutty” books or smut in fic in general:

Just be aware that a bill has been introduced in Oklahoma’s state senate (SB 593) that would make writing/publishing/owning an explicit romance book a felony.

So, when you come on here to espouse your “anti pro-ship” nonsense, or moan about how hard it is to find fics/art/books that aren’t “smutty” — know that this is the effect. You are being used as mouthpieces to help feed and perpetuate censorship. There is no room for censorship in fiction because it will never stop at what you deem morally “right”. It is about control and the restriction of speech. Your discomfort with sex in media does not make it wrong, and it certainly doesn’t mean you get to advocate for its restriction.

Do not be pawns in the far-right’s game. Do not call yourselves allys of any kind if you are willingly feeding into a pillar of far right extremism. It will not stop where you think it “should.”

#i really hope you aren't actually a lawyer #i kinda doubt you are and likely more likely to be a law school student #if anything #since you didn't specify what area of law you work with which could be irrelevant here #but if you are actually a lawyer #i think you might need to learn how to read a bill like this #you don't seem to know how

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