#would it be better to not dedicate my time and energy into making a 'hate' post? absolutely. but that will never stop me from doing so

[widevibratobitch]

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[tardis--dreams]

One thing you need to know about me is that I will never reblog anything that has the addition "this should be reblogged by everyone" or anything of the like.

[iznsfw]

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace. 

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.” 

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive. 

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her. 

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing. 

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing. 

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation. 

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps. 

You don’t. 

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

-

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

-

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks. 

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore. 

i miss you 

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t. 

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her. 

What you’d give to have good sex like that again. 

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name: 

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away. 

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea. 

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past. 

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply. 

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family. 

Stop texting me or I’ll block you. 

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her. 

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast. 

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door. 

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink. 

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed. 

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything. 

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away. 

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again. 

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know. 

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth. 

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen. 

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair. 

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past. 

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that? 

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone. 

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed. 

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck. 

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her. 

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” 

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips. 

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her. 

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder. 

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you. 

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?” 

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you. 

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb. 

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear. 

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal. 

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically. 

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste. 

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

 It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food. 

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?” 

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together. 

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers. 

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief. 

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips. 

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity. 

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit. 

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again. 

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her. 

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt. 

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again. 

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too. 

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet.  “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.” 

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white. 

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears. 

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming.  This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt. 

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it. 

The tears finally fall from her eyes. 

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…” 

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her. 

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes. 

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby. 

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

-

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying. 

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you. 

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say. 

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

[cleoluvrr]

high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) - I

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, choking, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide ,kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

rafe’s head weighed down your chest, tears soaking through your pajama shirt that left your skin feeling sticky from the salty substance. his large body was racked with sobs and while it may have made someone else feel pity for the boy, all you could feel was the uneasiness creeping up your spine.

he’d shown up randomly in the dead of night, the sound of his knock at your window leaving you filled with so much dread that you almost ignored the desperate tapping. the tall man stumbled in like a fawn, leaking blood from his flushed, teary face that left stains all over his shirt. as he came closer, the red scratch left behind from his father’s family ring was clear on his cheekbone, raised and pink from the irritation.

it was the second time that week he’d come over like this. the bruises from the last time had not even healed before being overlapped by fresh ones.

you weren’t sure why rafe and his father got into it so bad, so often; but it had taken a toll on you both mentally and physically for having to deal with the aftermath all on your own. 

after nursing his injuries and having him change into a spare shirt he’d left in your room, all you could do was allow him to cry into you. it was the only thing you had the energy to do, and there were no words you had to say to him to make him feel any better than he did now. 

so, here you sat with your back against the headboard, legs outstretched and weighed down by your boyfriend’s body as he buried his face into you chest to muffle the cries that he couldn’t stop from escaping. sleep was slowly creeping through your body, but you fought it off to pacify your aching lover’s pain.

“it’s okay,.” your voice was soft, the sweet sound vibrating against his ear drums. “you don’t need to cry, i’m right here.”

you continued to speak soothing words to him for what felt like an eternity before he finally began to calm down, his cries steadily reducing to erratic sniffle every few dozen seconds. your arms cradle his upper body as you gently rock side to side in both an effort to calm him and keep yourself awake.

a pair of puffy eyes stared back up at you as rafe pulled his face from its hiding spot. his face was tired, pink, and tear stained, though most of the salty fluid was thoroughly soaked into the tank top stretched across your chest that he used to cry into. you don’t complain about the less than comfortable way it sticks to your skin out of concern that it would only manage to further upset him.

“i’m sorry…” rafe’s voice was quiet and broken as he spoke, the strength of his sobs evident from the damage it left on his voice. 

“don’t be. you have nothing to be sorry for.” your head shakes at him in refusal. nimble fingers graze over his face gently as you wipe away the stray tears that continued to fall. 

“i didn’t mean to come over so late.” the pink of his tongue pokes out to moisten his chapped lips before it retreats. “i didn’t know what to do. i–i just really needed you, y/n.”

“i know, baby, i promise it's okay.” you look down at him with soft eyes, one that you pray display deep affection for the man and not the irritation you felt inching closer to the front. “you can come to me whenever; i always have time for you.”

it wasn’t a lie, exactly. if rafe wanted to see you then he would do it, whether you were busy or not. you had no free time, practically your entire life outside of school was dedicated to your relationship. going to a college on the mainland was completely out of the question, simply because rafe would never let it happen–he already hated the fact that you lived fifteen minutes away. you couldn’t count how many times he’d begged you to live in tannyhill with him, nor could you count how many times you’d said no. living four hours away in a different city where he couldn’t keep a constant eye on you, where you would be around thousands of guys, would never happen–in this lifetime or the next.

you had to go to a university nearby to take classes, one that was close enough to home that so wouldn’t have to leave. you rarely hung out with your friends alone because it offended your boyfriend if you spent too much time with them. ‘are they more important than i am?’ is what he would ask through gritted teeth whenever you made plans with them more than twice a week. 

that’s how much rafe controlled every aspect of your life.

the last time you tried to free yourself of it, rafe promised to kill you. so you’ve learned to accept it for your own safety. even if your entire life revolved around your boyfriend, you’d rather that than having it be taken from you.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you remained cautious in your inquiry, trying your best to be inoffensive as to prevent triggering him to anger or another crying fit. “it’s the second time this week you came over like this, baby…i’m worried.”

“my dad doesn’t think i deserve you, that’s what happened.” rafe chuckled dryly, head shaking as if he couldn’t believe his father would ever say something like that.

“what?” you brows knit together in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“my dad really likes you, y/n. more than he likes me, probably.” he releases another humorless snort. “he called me a, and i quote, ‘worthless leech of a son.’ he said that you were too good for me and that you would never stay with someone like me if you were as smart as he thought you were.”

you blinked at him as you processed the recounting of events. ward’s words towards rafe should never be uttered from a parent to their child, but he wasn't wrong.

rafe stole money from his father and misused their funds very regularly. he would spend it on drugs, alcohol, vehicles, and whatever else he felt like impulsive spending on–all the while he contributed nothing. it was something that you consistently scolded him for, especially when he would spend his father’s hard earned money on expensive gifts for you.

you would never call rafe worthless, but it would be a lie to say he’s not mooching off his father. however, every rich kid in kildare did the same thing to their parents, and his father definitely never worked to stop the behavior while he was younger.

as for you being too smart to stay with someone like rafe–you can’t say that you agree too much.

“don’t listen to him, rafe. no good father should ever say that to their child.” is what you settled on telling him instead.

“i know, what a piece of shit.” he shook his head, eyes rolling in annoyance as he retold the events of the night. you observed the faint appearance of a smirk on his face, the ghost of a smile barely visible but you couldn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips before he spoke again. “so i told him he’s just mad that my girl actually loves me, while my mom was smart enough to leave his ass.”

“rafe!”

“yeah, he didn’t like that very much.” the eyes that had lowered while he spoke flicked back up to watch yours. “he hit me with that big ass ring on and told me to leave, so i did.”

you tilted your head to the side, lip caught between the whiteness of your teeth.

what he shared was not out of the ordinary for the duo. what was out of the ordinary was the state in which rafe was in just a few minutes ago. typically he would just come over and let you dress his wounds before letting you play with his hair is silence, or listening to him call his father everything but a child of god in a rage-fueled rant. 

“and why were you crying? you can’t just show up like that, rafe…you scared me.” the boy in your arms sat silently for a moment before answering.

“its just…you’re in college now. i’ve made so many plans for our future but what if….you’re not gonna leave me, right?” rafe had worry set deep into his expression as he watched you process the question, his head shaking at you. “he was wrong, you’d never do that. you’re smart enough to know better.”

you were sure he heard you gulp after speaking the last sentence. you knew what he was implying, and he was right. ward was correct in saying that you were intelligent enough to know that staying with rafe was a terrible idea, but you were also smart enough to know that rafe would do anything and everything under the sun before letting you go.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby. don’t listen to him, he just wants to get under your skin.” it nearly made you sick to say it, but what choice did you really have? “i love you so, so much, and going to school isn’t going to change that. i’ve had a plan for my life way before i met you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t wanna make you a part of it. my future is my future, but i can’t see it without you there too.”

you meant what you said. you love rafe so, very deeply, and you would do almost anything to make him happy–within reason. rafe didn’t understand reason; rationality was not his forte. any reasonable person would understand that the waters would be tested once a high school relationship became an adult relationship, but rafe was not reasonable. any normal person knows that plans change as life goes on, but rafe was not normal.

maybe you would marry him one day. you might have his kids, be his trophy wife, and live in tannyhill, happily ever after. you knew that even if you went to college on the mainland, you wouldn’t leave rafe. that you would come back to kildare every chance you got and spend every spare second with him until you had to leave again.

even when he gave you hell, you still loved him with every bone in your body. 

rafe didn’t understand that, though, and that’s what led to your attempt at breaking it off with him. he degraded your lifelong goal, telling you that your relationship was more important that ‘some stupid degree’ could ever be. you supported him through everything, even when you thought it was the most idiotic thing someone could do, so his total disregard for something that you deeply cared for hurt you. 

the only reason rafe even let you go to school was because he’s terrified of losing you. not only physically, but emotionally. sure, he could threaten your life to make you stay and you’d listen out of fear. what he knew, however, is that he would lose you if he took your dream away from you. his leash was tight, but it was long enough to keep you satisfied.

rafe nodded at you in approval, seemingly satisfied enough with your answer to leave it alone.

he never wanted you to go to college in the first place. it was the only thing that you put your foot down on, but if it were up to him, the two of you would be getting married by spring.

he thought it was stupid–why do you need a degree or a job? why work when rafe was there to provide for you once he took over his dad’s company? he fought you long and hard about it for months, but you wouldn’t budge. you needed a safety net–you couldn’t let him take the most important thing in life taken away from you; knowledge. 

for you, knowledge was power. it was the closest thing you had to freedom. you knew that if you had a degree, it would be a safeguard in case things with rafe ever went south. deep down your boyfriend knew that, which is probably why he was so against it in the first place.

rafe knew his father was right, which is why he was in such a severe state of distress. he would never admit to that, however,

“are you just saying that because you’re scared?” your breath hitched at the sudden question and you were sure that you’d been caught.

“no! i mean it, seriously-”

“you’re smart to be scared, honestly.” he chuckled at you darkly, eyes glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. “i couldn’t live without you in my life, i love you too much. just thinking about you ever trying to leave me makes me so–so…sick. i need you more than anything. i would probably have to kill myself if you were gone, because i don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

you remained stoic. 

“and i couldn’t see you with anyone that isn’t me.” he stared at you for a heavy moment after saying it. the two of you both knew what he was hinting at, a look of understanding shared amongst the silence that overtook the room.

“rafe, my love…i don’t think that’s healthy.” the words left you in a soft, inoffensive tone. setting off the unstable man was the last thing you wanted to do. “you shouldn’t say things like that, its not funny..”

he shrugged at you, pushing your arms away from him and sitting upright. your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his soft lips against yours, body melting into him instinctively. it only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away abruptly, the feeling of his soft breath mixing with yours leaving you confused. 

the moment doesn’t stay on your mind any longer when he leans back in, lips meeting yours in a fervor. your skin feels flushed, face warm as the tingling feeling sets in from his skin on yours. rafe brought his hand up from its resting place on your thigh and attempts to wrap it around your neck like he usually does, but you pull it away haphazardly, hardly paying it any attention as you descend deeper into the kiss.

your own fingers reach up to play with his hair, a set of manicured nails gently scraping against the nape of his neck. you use it to pull him closer, the sound of lips smacking together filling the otherwise silent room along with your minorly labored breathing.

a warm, calloused hand slowly crawled up your side and landed on your throat once again, each finger slowly working to wrap around your neck in a firm grip. it was much tighter this time, and its grip strengthening faster than you could adjust. you reach up once more to pull it away, but he doesn’t let up.

“stop,” you pull away from him mid-kiss, your hand covering the pale one tightly wound around your neck. he doesn’t flinch at the sound of your demand, eyes low as he observes your increasingly frantic movements.

“what?” he asked.

rafe’s face was expressionless, the slight scrunch in his nose being the only giveaway of his sudden rise to anger. it was the silent rage that scared you, why you so carefully chose your words when speaking to him–because it would lead to moments like this. you weren’t even sure what you said to trigger him, but your rapidly decreasing airflow wouldn’t allow for you to think about it in depth.

“rafe, stop.” you repeat yourself. another hand reaches up to fight against his, nails scratching at the skin as they try to pull him off. the feeling had long passed being uncomfortable, and was encroaching on unbearable. “what’re you doing?” 

“what's wrong, baby…can’t breathe?” your boyfriend’s eyes furrowed with a look of faux concern, but you felt him stop holding back. he allowed the full weight of his strength onto you, biceps flexing as the tips of his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat. “huh?”

unable to answer verbally, you hummed quietly as you desperately tugged at him. despite your incessant squirming, that doesn’t deter him from returning his lips to yours. the kiss was sloppy, you were too focused on fighting for what little breath you had to return it fully, but rafe didn’t seem to care.  

he suckled at your bottom lip before nipping it with the sharpness of his teeth. he laved his tongue against yours, all but fucking your mouth the wet muscle. the sound of his soft, dark laughter reached your ears after he heard you whine against him. you were beginning to become lightheaded the longer rafe’s hand compressed your trachea mercilessly. 

he was allowing just enough room for you to not pass out from lack of air, but the finger against your jugular veins was preventing oxygen from reaching your brain.

leaving you with a few sporadic, wet pecks, he pulled away only slightly to observe your less than lively state. his lips were glistening with moisture, and you could feel spit dribbling down your own chin from your inability to swallow the saliva that had been gathering in your mouth. the blond’s face went stoic again and pulled you back to him, lips just barely brushing against yours.

“you see how i just had your life in my hands? how scared you felt knowing that i could’ve just crushed your throat if i wanted to?” the grip over your neck had finally loosened and you did your best to not pant against his face as your breathing steadied itself. 

you remained silent but rafe watched you expectantly, clearly awaiting an actual response and not the stupid, wide-eyed expression you carried. you nodded at him weakly, stray tears sliding down your face as you blinked your eyes clear of them.

“i’m not joking.” he whispered against your parted lips, eyes low and jaw clenching for just a second before speaking again. “i will fuck you up, and i mean that.”

[diarioculto]

reader being a college student and she feels very drained and charles being the best boyfriend ever and making her days better? idk midterms are kicking my ass i need comfort 

YOUR WARM EMBRACE. ﹙ charles leclerc x reader ﹚

author’s notes: thank u sm for requesting this, anon !! i hope everything goes well for u and i’m veeery proud of you ♡ i hope u enjoy this x

۫.⭒ ۫ ׅ ⋆ﾟ⊹

midterms season was here, and were you happy about it? absolutely… not.

from all the stress building up on your muscles to the countless all-nighters dedicated to studying, you felt like your brain was going to explode. midterms were a significant part of your grade and you knew that you had to be well prepared for them, even if you felt relatively confident in your skills. this cycle repeated itself for more days than you could count right now and you felt your energy drain by the minute. you were reading your textbook for the millionth time, words mixed up inside you head, when you heard your bedroom door creak open. you look up to find your boyfriend charles, body rested against the door frame and a worried look on his face.

he hated seeing you like this, even if the soft smile on his lips said otherwise. his heart ached every time he looked at your face, eye bags darker than usual and your smile faded into a more tired expression, lips always pursed.

« chérie, don’t you think that it’s time for a little break? » his soft voice echoes through the room, eyes scanning over your face. he hoped that you would stop, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. you look back at you textbook, an indecisive look on your face, and in that moment, he knew that you weren’t going to stop unless you were forced to. you were always stubborn, especially when it came to college.

charles’ footsteps grew louder behind you and, next thing you know, your textbook is close shut with a loud thud and everything you read evaporated from your mind.

« c’mon. » his arms slid around your waist, lifting you up from your seat and you can feel your body slowly melting into his touch. you were so tired. so so tired.

« i’m sorry… » you mumble under your breath as your body is pulled against his chest. he tucks your head under his chin as he rocks you back and forth and you can hear his heart beating faster by the second, your grip around his torso growing stronger.

« for what, my love? » you lift your head to look up at him only to find his gaze already on you, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. you don’t answer, finding comfort in the silence around you. instead, you tuck your head comfortably against his chest once again with a satisfied smile on your face, eyes fluttering shut. charles’ lips curve into a sweet smile as he feels yourself relax under his body and he swears that he can hear your soft snores amongst all the silence.

« i love you, chérie. and i’m so proud of you. » he kisses the top of your head as he keeps lullabying you, sun setting behind your intertwined bodies.

[ranchracoon]

The Perfect Plan Pt. 2

Alpha! Mother Miranda x Omega! (Pregnant) Reader

*Birth warning*

Miranda hates you. She hates how you curl up into her when you sleep, how attractive you are with your wide hips and pregnant belly, how weak you've made her, by the Black God, she hates you. She especially hates how easily you tore down her walls and made her fall madly in love with you. You were never supposed to be her mate, she was supposed to impregnant you with a daughter then toss you back to be used by Dimitrescu and her daughters. Everything in her head said to give you the cold shoulder, keep your basic needs met and wait for you to give birth but then her body reacts the complete opposite. She tells herself that you are now her mate but that doesn't mean she needs to treat you as such, but then you look at her with those eyes and she melts. 

Her stone-cold exterior now a puddle because of you, and the simple thought alone that she will have a daughter again makes her want to cry. The first trimester was the hardest; you vomited over everything and barely kept anything down except crackers, bread, and water. Even that was too much most days. Now you've gotten better control over the vomiting but have made very strict demands that Miranda no longer use any sort of scented lotions or soaps for the smell makes you queasy. Her false children, Alcina specifically, haven't stopped calling to see how you're doing, and Miranda has been avoiding it. Instead, she forces villagers to construct a whole new room to her home for the baby and provides everything that the baby will need when she comes. She dedicates all of her time and energy to making sure you are comfortable. 

That is until one day Miranda has had enough with the phone ringing and finally answers only to hear that infernal doll on the other end. Miranda pinches the bridge of her nose, as the doll goes off. You and her unborn daughter have made her soft. By now she would have snapped and yelled at Angie for even raising her voice at her, but right as Miranda is about to yell, you wrap your arms around her torso. The warmth from your body soothes and smothers any raging fires inside her and she instantly calms. Her hand gently placed atop yours as you nuzzle into her back for added affection. Very well. 

"Alcina again?" You murmur when she hangs up. 

"No. Donna. She's worried because it's been over a month with no meeting, and I typically call one by now for updates. She doesn't know about you. None of them truly know. I suppose it's time to present you as my mate and inform them to resign their experiments." Miranda sighs. 

"It'll be okay." You reassure. 

"I hope you are correct."

Miranda calls Donna back and informs her there will be a meeting, then she summons the others and looks you over. You have to be presentable, although she couldn't care less what her false children think of you, she wants to show you off. She puts you in a comfortable outfit that still accentuates your hips and Miranda can't help but stare as you walk by. How much she loves watching you leave, the sway of your hips, the aroma of your scent, everything drives her wild. If it were up to her, she wouldn't let you leave without smelling like her but there's no time now. Because of your pace it takes you and her longer to get to the meeting place, and you use a handkerchief to cover your nose from the smell of rotting wood and mold. 

Not the best place to bring her pregnant mate, she'll have to do something about this to remedy that. The others are already there waiting impatiently, Heisenberg taps his foot annoyingly as Miranda keeps you off to the side for dramatic effect. 

"Thank you all for being here. As you know I have been conducting a new experiment and I am proud to say it has been a success. I have found an organic way of bringing back my daughter, and I have also found myself a new mate. Allow me to introduce Y/N."

You walk forward to take your place by her side. The room is mixed: Angie is overjoyed to have a child to play with, Heisenberg could care less, Moreau looks hurt and then there's Lady Dimitrescu. She's presenting all seven stages of grief, currently sitting at anger. She abruptly stands, Miranda positions herself in front of you for protection.

"Your mate? Well. Congratulations Mother Miranda. I'm glad your excitement was a success. May I ask, what does that mean for us and the village?" She asks through gritted teeth. 

Miranda scoffs and wants to say she could care less about her failures and the village. She only needed the villagers for experimentation. However, you touch her upper arm, and she remembers your request. She hates how weak you've made her, yet she would burn the world if you asked. Yet she loves how excited you get when she agrees, and the way your dimples pop out when you smile.

"The village has been neglected for too long. I want us to halt our experiments and instead spend energy into the village. New homes, better education, healthier fields. I want my future family to have a worthy home. As for you lot, I-" Miranda growls under her breath, she looks over her shoulder at you and you only stare at her with those doe eyes. 

"I apologize for how I have treated you in the past. My mate has requested that if you chose, you may be a part of this family proper."

"And what if we don't? What if we don't buy into this bullshit and think it's another plot to keep us under your thumb?" Snaps Heisenberg. 

He stands and Miranda shields you from his advances, "what if instead of being one 'happy little family,' I'd rather bash your skull in?"

"Then you are free to leave." Miranda responds coldly. 

Heisenberg halts in his step, he's skeptical of course and doesn't believe she's true to her word. He looks toward the door then back at her, inches toward it, looks again. He continues this until he's at the door, swings it open with a loud thud, and stomps through with the door slamming shut behind him. She dismisses the other lords who take their leave without a word, except Lady Beneviento. She approaches you and silently asks to touch your stomach. You agree and she rests her cold hands upon you. She feels the occasional kick and fluttering of movement which is more than enough excitement for her. 

*          *          *

Over the course of the next few short months, Donna and Alcina have sent you more than enough baby items. Clothes, cloths, numerous dolls, but your favorite is something you requested especially from Donna; a stuffed crow. It's the softest thing you've ever held, and you keep it safely tucked in the hand-built crib that Miranda got. Salvatore showed his affection in, well, his own way. He had fresh fish delivered daily and reported that the bay is now clear as crystal with healthy populations to feed the village a hundred times over. You're not going to tell him that fish currently makes you want to hurl. Miranda is the one who takes the longest to adjust. She spends long periods of time in her lab, and if it weren't for the smell, you would go down there to see what she's doing.

"Miranda." You say softly, sitting up with difficulty in bed.

"Yes, my dear?" She asks, helping you sit up and turning her attention to you. 

"What are you doing down in the lab? Ever since the meeting you've spent all our time down there."

You are worried for her, but another part of you is sad that she's no longer showering you with attention and affection like she did before the meeting. Miranda sighs and looks down, unsure of how to tell you. She's angry that you've made her change, she's happy that her experiment worked, she's mourning the loss of her purpose. 

"I'm down there because, I'm scared." She finally admits. 

You take her hand into your own, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand soothingly. 

"I haven't been a parent since I lost my dear Eva. I've spent the last hundred years trying to get her back and now, now I'm so close to having that again. What if, what if I've changes for the worse? You saw how the village was, if not for you I would still be that way. You've softened me, made me care, and I hate that. I believe I only hate it because it terrifies me. What if I lose this one too? Or I'm not a good parent?"

You kiss her knuckles tenderly, "if you treat this child even remotely as well as you've treated me then I would say you'll be just fine. I've never been a parent before, so this is a new learning experience for the both of us. I have full faith that you will be an excellent mom to our baby, especially with how much you've been willing to sacrifice and do. Although, I do think we should lock up the lab and not tell them about the thousands of experiments you've done. Not until they're older."

Miranda scoffs but she has a smile. She looks you over and her body relaxes, she hated you so much for you've changed her in the course of a few short months. It would seem you experimented on her as well. She changed your entire biology, and you changed her entire being. She loves you with a burning fire that will spread to the child in your stomach, and to every child after. Miranda loves you so much, it hurts her to try and comprehend how much she does. 

*          *          *

You scream loudly, the pain shooting through your entire body as you push with all your strength. Miranda braces and holds the crowning head and guides the infant out before plopping the crying being on your exposed stomach. She pushes the placenta out and pinches the umbilical cord before severing it. You pant heavily and toss your head back, a million miles swirling as you fade in and out of consciousness with the relief of no more pain. Miranda does everything: she takes your newborn daughter and cleans her face and body, putting her in a diaper and wrapping her warmly in a blanket. She cleans you off, hooks you to an IV, and gets your comfortable in bed to recover. As you regain some strength, now being fed a wonderful cocktail of pain meds, she hands the newborn over to you and you happily take her. 

She's beautiful. You tear up and smile down at her, caressing her round, swollen cheek as she scoots around for a nipple. You chuckle and begin to breastfeed your daughter, leaning back against the headboard and finally looking over at Miranda. Her hair is a mess, her face is flushed, she looks like she was the one who just gave birth and yet she still somehow looks beautiful. She brushes some hair away from your face and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead. 

"She's beautiful." You say proudly. 

"You and her both. I'm so proud of you."

[jolalibrary]

this year's love.

simon ghost riley x f!reader

wc: 5.5k warnings: angst. fluff. smut. feelings. usual jo things. summary: And then you begin calling him Riley. It’s more flirtatious—more meaningful. Simon is when you’re soft, thanking him, when others are close and can hear you. Riley is when you’re leaning over the bar, staring into his soul and smirking so deviously it takes a lot to not kiss it off your lips. an: from the drabble where ghost 'dates' a non-militant he meets in a pub. this is dedicated to @yeyinde for reminding me why British pubs are adorable, and also to @guyfieriii because she hates my angst, but loves my fluff, and makes me want to write better.

simon ghost riley masterlist

He suspects he should stay away. 

As soon as he began to crave the sight of you. Ignoring the fact he’s heard This Year's Love by David Gray three times already—and he has only been here an hour. The condensation beads from his glass pools on the picked-at-bar mat, drenching his fingers and wrist. 

Not that he cares. 

Ghost—

Simon knows it’s all part of the charm. 

It has been since the day he turned eighteen and his boss at the butchers took him for his first pint. 

The place hasn’t changed since. Everything from the same ten to twelve songs which crackle through the worn and tired speakers. The smokey air, and discoloured, yellowing wallpaper. 

Things don’t get replaced either, the chipped glass ashtrays are the same as the ones he remembers. The same chipped mahogany tables with the ill-matching chairs and stools that are wobbly.

The scent in the place is familiar, a mix between festering ale and Mr Sheen, working men and cheap perfume, fust and smoke—both from the crackling winter fire and cigarettes—even if one hasn’t been smoked inside of it for years. 

The place, to outsiders, would look like any stone-walled pub on the corner of two streets they’ll never remember. Then they’ll step in, their eyes glancing over the peeling wallpaper, moth-eaten curtains (that never close) and the once-white nets in the windows, before questioning what they’ve walked into. That’s before they’ve noticed the white ball on the pool table is in fact another black ball and that the dart board triple 20 has been chipped out after Bald-Andy lost his rag. 

The pub has been a real gem to those who know what real diamonds are for as long as Simon can remember. None of the regulars care that the bar stools have burns from cigarettes being stubbed out, they don’t care that the musty smell doesn’t vanish even with Febreze and sheer will. It’s expected, just like how the bar is always sticky and the energy always feels right. 

Here, he can relax. 

When he’s home, he feels purposeless. A man with a map but no direction. But, he can unfurl his shoulders from his ears, even let his hood slide to the back of his neck. 

Because in this place, strangers aren’t welcome. It’s a local pub, for local folk. Those who wander in, thinking the pub on the corner of quaint and quintessential will provide them with a typical British evening, normally leaving before Freddie Mercury has reached the bridge of whatever song is on rotation. 

But, Simon isn’t just here for the bourbon or the ale, he’s not here because the wooden fire licks every wall of the place. He’s not here because it feels more like home than his actual home. 

He’s here because there’s one thing that has changed, and it’s you. 

You with a rosy, sweet laugh that usually accompanies a smile which makes his heart gallop. It calms whatever storm rages inside of him when you look at him—when you bore your pretty, fucking eyes into him before you lean over, hand on the beer pump as you call him Simon. 

Simon. 

His name has never sounded more serene than when it falls from your lips. The way you say it makes it seem less than ordinary, almost unique. Humour sways in your eyes, a glint he knows there’s more too—and wants nothing more than to explore. 

You’re a vibrant surprise in the middle of my mundane, and it took him all of five minutes to discern you’re both difficult and charming all rolled into one. 

And then you begin calling him Riley. 

It’s more flirtatious—more meaningful. 

Simon is when you’re soft, thanking him, when others are close and can hear you. Riley is when you’re leaning over the bar, staring into his soul and smirking so deviously it takes a lot to not kiss it off your lips.

Women haven’t tended to last here—except Tracy. Tracy, who like the urinal cakes, has been here since Simon’s first pint. Her lines had deepened in her skin over time, but her hair has remained that putrid blonde she tries to claim is natural. 

You, on the other hand, are far younger—kind, soft, unless someone gets lairy and then there’s a ferociousness to you that’s packed into something so small. He suspects you know what the men at the bar look at when your eyes aren’t looking, and it’s not the way you command the small space stuffed with offerings and glasses. 

He’d paid no mind initially. Tried not to, anyway. He’d decided it would be for the best. Then you’d bite back at Dave that you may be too young to remember a song,  but you could still get down on her knees without them creaking. 

He had smirked at that. 

Deciding his new seat at the bar, on the rickety bar stool was his new favourite seat. 

To this day, you always smell floral, but the accompanying scent with it changes. Sometimes you’re sultry, sometimes you’re just sweet. Each time he is able to return ‘home’ he’s never sure which one he’ll get—but it burns a place in his nose all the same. 

Hard to shift, difficult to smother, not that he wishes to do either. 

Their first exchanges were simple. Contractual. Another? Yes. Your usual? Yes. Then you had placed a deck of cards in front of him, a teasing smile on your face in the quietness of a Wednesday evening. 

Keep me company. 

It was difficult for him to grasp how soft your eyes were, how it made his mind blank and his heart both hammer and stutter all at once. 

Now, it’s normal. 

He’s used to it, fucking welcomes the way they land on him. He thinks about them on the plane ride home, how Alan—the chef who’ll serve anything off-menu for a packet of fags—makes a mean all-day breakfast sandwich. But mostly, it’s you. 

“You back for long, Riley?” 

“No.”

“Never are.” 

“You sound disappointed, sweetheart.” 

You always smile the same when he calls you that. Always half-roll your eyes before shaking your head, as though flirting with you is oh so wrong. 

Especially when you start it first. 

“What would you do if I was?” 

That’s new. 

His fingers pick up a crisp, watching you lean on the pump in front of you. The star earrings hanging from your ears, catch the bar spotlights, making it seem as though you’re literally glowing. 

But then, you are—to him at least. 

Someone calls for you, pint raised in hand—saving him from answering. You wink, and mumble you’ll be right back, the words lingering in the space you once stood. 

You’re too good for him. 

Too normal. Too unscarred and untouched. He suspects a bad thing has never happened to you. You’ve not plunged a knife into someone’s throat, not shot a moving target with a precision that most try to replicate on their controllers and headsets. 

For that reason, and that reason alone, he knows he should stay on this side of the bar. Even when it takes all of his self-restraint to do so. 

It’s hard though. 

More so when you give him that look—that one which makes his cock twitch and his thoughts turn feral. 

Because the nice girl from the pub may have a sweet, soft voice, but fuck he knows you’re anything but. 

You’re all red lips and righteousness, a siren and enchantress who chooses floral perfume to try and disguise the way your eyes undress him. 

Not that he complains. 

He’s done the same. 

Fucked his own fist to the thought of the noises you’d make and how you’d feel enveloped around his cock. 

Tonight he’d likely do the same. 

Winter is in full effect when he next returns. 

Snow was thick on the streets, the roads a horrid mix of ice, slush and asphalt. 

You’re behind the bar, Bald-Andy and his wife in the corner near the fire, and the crackling, gruff voice of Oasis is playing. You look up, lips smirking, eyes glistening. 

“The usual?” 

He considers it. Sweet, caramel and vanilla notes hit his tongue in memory. But he shakes his head, pulling out a stool, and sitting opposite you as your perfume greets him. 

“Surprise me, sweetheart.” 

You stand fully, hair falling around your face, making his heart lurch and his stomach burn. 

“Living dangerously, I see,” you say, turning your back to him as you pull at spirit bottles.

If only you knew. 

He suspects something sweet when you place the glass in front of him. The sound of it meeting the worn wood so loud, not that the other two patrons look over. As though it’s just the two of you. No one else. His eyes lift, hooking themselves into yours—unwilling to let you tear them from him as he tries to bury the aches of war and fighting. 

It’s caramel coloured, darker at the bottom of the glass than the top. Ice. So much ice. 

“Go on, try it, Simon.” 

And he does. 

It’s sweet, and zingy. It’s mellow but spicy, and he tastes the hints of ginger and rum as the cold hits his teeth. 

“What y’made me?” 

“You like it?” 

Yes. 

The tip of your tongue swiping across your bottom lip, watching you lean smugly. “Dark and stormy… the epitome of you.”

A groan leaving his lips, your laugh tasting of sunshine and happier days. 

A long moment stretches between the two of you, one that makes the air thrum and him having to shift his jeans. A continuous voice in his head, telling him no, telling him to put a stop to this now. 

He drinks it. He even orders it again. 

Time ticks fast—too fast. He wants it to slow. Ever since their first flirtation, if you’ve finished when he’s there—he walks you to your car. 

You drive something small, your entire backseat is always covered in coats, shoes and books. Something normal, and so typically you. 

He does the same tonight, hands in his jacket pockets, periodically scanning the area as you lock the big wooden doors of the pub. You shake them, ensuring you have, pocketing the keys before turning to nudge him. 

Simple. Soft. Each gesture in the short walk is always seemingly effortless. You don’t worry he’ll take offence, that he’ll shatter or snap. 

Not that he would. 

His arm lifting, letting your small hand slide around it for stability as the snow falls thick and fast. It paints the streets in a blanket that crunches under their boots. And there’s something about the snow landing in your hair, on the tip of your nose, even on your lower lip. 

He wants to brush it from your mouth, and trace the bow of your upper lip with his thumb. 

Because it’s all a contradiction. Snow makes you look innocent, something close to a character from a movie or a Disney film. And, you’re not any of those things. 

You’re snarky, huffed whispers and quick retorts when drunkards try to hit on you; you’re witty, funny and boldly brilliant.

So much so, he’s never sure why you work there. He knows you’re studying, knows you’re trying to better yourself. You’ve told him as much over a Pepsi Max in your hand and something stronger in his. 

He knows it’s odd to keep staring at you. Your eyes staring up, making your eyes seem wider and bigger than they actually are—pretty sure the flurries of snow, stars and moon are shining in them. But it’s his treat—his reward. The thing he thinks about when he’s knee-deep in mud or covered in blood, sweat and bruises. 

Your feet stop at your car, unlocking it—the beep and flash of your headlights casting light across the car park. 

“You back for long?” 

“No.”

Smiling, you lean against the rear window. “Never are.” 

It’s a pattern, a habit. An exchange that has become the norm for the two of you as much as hello and goodbye. 

Then, you sigh.

Something you rarely do, not to him—not with him. His brows knitting, tightening, heart thundering in his throat as you drag your eyes up his chest, and neck and land on his face. 

“Do you know how perfect it would be, if you grew a pair and kissed me in the snow, Riley?” 

Your hand slides into the handle, opening it as your smirk turns into a grin. One which is brighter than your headlights, the moon—hell, the fucking sun. 

“Guess I’ll have to wait for a shooting star, instead.” 

And, you laugh, leaning your back against the car—expression blended with vulnerability and searing heat that should melt the settling ice on your face. 

“Y’seem like the sorta woman to make me work for it.” 

“Oh yes, because eighteen months of will-they-won’t-they hasn’t been tedious enough.” 

He grabs your elbow, roughly pulling but finds you fall into him with far too much ease. The snow continues to fall, leaving soft cold kisses on his face, but he doesn’t feel cold. 

How could he? You’re staring up at him with the searing heat of the sun. 

“Y’want me to kiss you, Sweetheart?” 

“More than I want to go home and sleep, Riley.” 

His hand cups your cheek, warm meeting cold as he pulls your lips to his. Cold, soft lips slide against his, and he tastes the orange from your cordial swirling with his bourbon-covered tongue. Your car groans when he presses you against it, your hand clutching him with the same desperation as he’s flush with your body. 

Your cheeks are warm against his hands, eyelashes fluttering open as the two of you break apart. 

“You… you want to come back to mine?”

Yes. Fuck yes. 

But—

“Next time.” 

“Yeah?” 

His fingers brush down your cheek, and he nods. 

He got your number. 

For convenience. You tell him he didn’t need to come in and drink one of your piss-poor beer pulls just to get in your knickers. 

So he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t text when he first lands. He gives himself a day—a moment to shed the Ghost and become Simon. When you do you don’t reply with anything witty, just straight-laced—just like he likes it. 

A time. An address. 

He expects you to size him up at your front door, even bracing for a changed mind. You don’t do either. You let the door open, standing two steps inwards dressed in something lace and rippable. 

Fuckin’ fuck. 

It’s the only thought he has before he slams your door behind him, striding towards you and practically throwing you over his shoulder. 

You don’t taste like what he expects—it’s better. 

His tongue flattens against you, two fingers inside your warm cunt as you whimper. You reluctantly still clutching to the promise you’d made earlier. The one where you informed him it’ll take more than a few fingers and a skilled tongue to make you scream. 

So he sucks. Bites. Nips. 

He finds that squishy part, stroking it as your thighs twitch by his ears. 

It’s then he grants himself the chance to look at you, finding your lipstick spread in a way which seems deliberately chaotic—even if he knows it isn’t. Your lashes wet, eyes clamped shut as you try and try not to give in. 

So fuckin’ stubborn. 

Your hands, all smooth and soft, clutching your breasts, the pink of a nipple poking out between your index and thumb as your chest rises and falls as you fight calling out his name. 

He likes that you have convictions—it gives him something to break. 

His tongue swirling, knowing already what he needs to do to undo you. 

And then—

Simon—fuc-k, Simon.

It’s better than classical, better than whatever is number one on the fuckin’ charts. The sound of you coming hard, and fast, trying to bury it in a whisper than the scream you actually want to release. All of it is a better sound than his knife plunging into some unsuspecting op—because he will make you scream. 

He laps up every ounce you give him, your pleading whimpers and nails in his hair making him groan against your cunt until you almost snap his neck—or try to. 

“Take them off. Now.”

He doesn’t like orders.

He fucking detests them. He gives them. Normally loud and booming. But your voice, all sweet and high-pitched, trying to give stern eyes when your lashes are coated in tears he’s caused…

Your eyes widen when he stands naked. And he knows he’s big. 

He’s very fucking aware of it. He’s seen plenty of evidence to support the fact in the wild, surprised eyes of those who he’s dropped his trousers for. 

You now being one of them. 

But fuck, he fits in you perfectly. So much so, he wants to mould your insides to match him, to ruin you for every other person who thinks they stand a chance with you.

Because they don’t. 

But then neither does he. 

Not that he’ll squander a moment to fuck with heaven—to hear the cadence shift when he hooks your leg over his hip as he drives his cock into you all the way to the hilt. 

He coaxes another out of you, your tight cunt like a vice around him as your manicured nails leave scratches on his back. His tongue swipes across your jaw, before haphazardly capturing your mouth. 

You taste like mint polos and sex—a taste he is already sure he’ll crave. 

And he wonders to himself if you know how fucking perfect you are. If you have any idea of how stunning you truly are. 

Especially like this. Your body shimmering with sweat, each thrust making your breasts bounce as your fingers tease his hair at the nape of his neck. 

And then he wonders about something else. 

Something far from coating your walls in his come.

Would you fit in his life? 

Would you fit as well in it, as he does inside your cunt?

And then you’re clenching, hips lazily trying to meet his as you whimper, moan—

And then you scream. 

Not Riley.

But Simon.

Mission accomplished. 

It has become a habit. 

You have become a habit. 

He lands. He waits a day. He fucks you until you are raw, sore and breathless. His lips are on yours, hands still on your hips as he hears how hoarse your voice is. 

“You back for long?”

“No.”

But this no is different.

It’s tinged with half a teaspoon of regret and sadness. 

You hide your face when he answers now. Sometimes by slinging your arm to shield him from your eyes or by turning from him. It’s like you know he likes them. Likes being able to see each infliction of emotion in them—shimmering, dancing, storming across in front of him. 

Somehow, you’ve fit into his life too well—cutting yourself a hole, forcing your way in, and making it seem as though you were always there. 

Simon lets you be, too. 

You have one of his t-shirts, baggy, black and covered in your perfume. He finds he has one of your hair ties around his wrist, not even realising until he slides on a pair of gloves. Flicking it against his wrist as he thinks of you, something he only allows himself to do briefly.

Things have changed. Shifted. 

But the Earth hasn’t fallen off its axis and he’s not fucked up a mission. So he counts his blessings. He doesn’t know if he believes good things can happen to him, but he could be persuaded that he can have nice things. A belief he even starts to accept. A reality he begins to wish for, rather than keep at arm's length. 

You’ve left the pub. You hadn’t been working every night for a while. Your studies had ended—receiving a photo of a cap and gown without your face when he was in the middle of a desert. 

Now you’re working a better job, one you deserve more—it’s creative, more you. You make the world brighter, and better while he’s getting dirty and riding the world of darkness. You text him once, the day you got paid, that you bought him something nice.

Something he ripped with his teeth when he landed—much to your annoyance. 

You’re no longer the girl in the pub. You’re perfectly applied make-up he fucks off your face. You’re high heels and pencil skirts—and sometimes fitted trousers that hug your arse so beautifully, he’s almost a bit jealous. You’re the pink sky at night, laughter that warms his chest, and a smile he thinks about as he falls asleep. 

“What would my alias be?” 

Your hand slides over a plate to him. Cheese on toast. Nothing big, nothing major, but he stares at it all the same. Because you’ve made him something. 

You’ve been doing it for a while, and each time is as perplexing as the last. His brain is unable to figure out how, why and what he’s done to deserve it. Even if it’s toast, a sandwich, or a fucking meal. 

Because it’s something outside of sex. It’s outside of holding the back of your head as he fucks your throat; outside of him pinning you against the dark alleyway of the pub he first saw you in, making you both cold and warm all at once. 

Even if he knows—constantly turns it over and over in his mind—that this isn’t just sex. He’s not entirely sure what this is. Except…nice?

You take a bite of your own, the crunch filling the air, crumbs littering your top—his top. “My call sign.” 

Simon isn’t sure why he told you about what he did. You were in his arms, warm, smelling of sex, flowers and something sharp. And, it fell out of him. Still drunk off your cunt, lost in the tenderness of your fingers on his chest, playing it a pattern with your nails. 

Not everything. Fuck, he couldn’t tell you everything—wouldn’t. But you know enough. 

Enough for him to know you’re not running, that you still want him knocking on your door whenever he lands—whether it's morning, noon or night. 

Now, you’re making him food. Legs long, his black t-shirt skimming your thighs—all his. Looking ever so inviting, making it hard not to push you up on the counter and give your neighbours something to talk about.

“Egg.”

You snort, sharp and light. “Egg?! You’re fuckin’ rude, Riley. Egg? No, that’s shit, give me a better one.” 

“But, true. You’d shatter, you’re more yolk than shell, you.”

“C’mon, be serious.” 

He gives you a look, finding the one you’re giving him sultry, teasing—demanding. 

“Snow.” 

You stare for several seconds before you hum, crunching the corner of your food with your teeth. “Lemme guess because I’m oh-so-delicate?”

No—

It’s because you’re fucking perfect. 

Because you’re his favourite season and favourite moment.

On some deeper level, he suspects it’s because you’re pure. That you’re unruined. Untainted. Your body has no scars—except the one from chicken pox and one on your hand from a glass bottle shattering. But, that’s it. He’s kissed every inch of you to know, to be 100% sure. 

You’re Snow because each time he sees it, he thinks of you. Those red lips, all that fucking audacity and the way you kissed him, tasting as warm as bourbon and as sweet as sugar. 

“Yeh, ‘cause you’re all pure and innocent, Sweetheart.”

You laugh, richly. Head thrown back, perfect thin neck exposed to the air—to him. 

And he wants to kiss you. 

He wants to taste your laugh and smile, let his hands run around the back of your thighs and feel you against every inch of him. 

That’s when your eyes land on him again—all full of questions and spice. Your tongue drags across your plush bottom lip, wiping up the grease from the cheese as he swallows. 

His throat suddenly dry. 

Because the girl he met in the pub—the one standing before him—is standing in his t-shirt. Looking every bit delicious, good enough to eat and never come up for air. 

And he thinks—

Realises, he actually, might—probably—miss you when he goes back to Price. 

It’s stretched on for months. A year. 

He lands, uses the key you gave him and stamps the snow from his boots, half smiling to himself as he does. Whenever he gets here, he doesn’t wait, he finds his way to whatever room you’re in.

Sometimes he doesn’t get far, your body colliding with his. All curves in his hands and arms around his neck, and he’s not sure what the fuck this is, but he likes it. 

Loves it. 

It’s something like a song about falling in love and a peaceful Sunday morning; it’s those moments you see in movies that make your eyes swell with tears as he stares at you, wondering how on earth you’re so goddamn amazing. 

It’s familiar, and yet he has no idea what is happening next or why. 

Mostly, though, Simon knows it’s something because he said your name to Johnny. 

Not because he was dying, not because he was hurt. But in the middle of a normal conversation, one exchanged on some dark rooftop, stars twinkling, and eyes fixated on a building down a scope. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have answered. Would have ignored him. 

If y’could be anywhere, right now, Lt. Where’d y’pick?

He didn’t need to think. 

He didn’t say home. Because home wasn’t his place, the pub or even the fuckin’ city he’s always ever known. It’s wherever you are. It’s where your heart beats and your bed is placed; it’s where your annoying, shitty music taste is blaring and that sleepy smile is when he wakes up next to you. 

So, Simon said your name. 

Simple. Easy. 

Except it wasn’t simple or fucking easy. It was messy, and complicated. Because Johnny tilted his head, in that obnoxious way he does, demanding more information than he is ever prepared to ever share. 

‘Fuck off, Johnny, before I punt y’off the rooftop and tell Price you’d been a cunt.’

Because you are locked away when he’s here. You are chained inside his chest, the deepest fucking secret—one no one will ever fucking take no matter how much they dig, how much they push him too. 

You are his.

Something only he gets to enjoy—gets to see, hear and taste. 

He’s done all of that for the last hour. Getting some sick satisfaction from edging you until you’re pleading with him, begging him with every breath you have to let you come as you wriggle and wiggle, urging him to lift your legs—just like he likes it, how you like it, and make you see fucking stars.

Now, you’re barefoot. 

A different t-shirt of his hiding the welts he’s left, the growing bruises from the way he’d needed to hold you in place. Watching, observing—admiring—the oddness to your steps as you flick on the kettle. He’s always close—looming in the sun’s shadows across the kitchen he knows better than his own. 

He has to be. Wants to be.

You’ve not just carved a place in your life, but in his chest—his heart. You’ve seeped into his skin, into his soul, merging and bringing to life something he thought had wilted and died. He doesn’t care that he’s vulnerable, that he’s not jagged edges and sharp stares. 

“You wanna go out with me? Tonight?” 

You pause, tea bag in hand, looking over your shoulder at him as if he’d asked you to slaughter a pig, a child, a whole bloody family. 

The moment is tender, almost fragile. 

It trembles under the weight of his question and the silence of your thoughts. 

Then it stills—

“You don’t… you don’t have to do that…” 

“What?” 

Dashing the tea bag into the cup, you turn. Hips leaning against the counter, sigh falling from your swollen, pink lips as your arms fold. The air scented with that familiar smell your home always has—jasmine and pineapple, the sun kissing your toes and legs as your face shows thunder and rain. 

The air shifts, changing. It’s speckled in ice with a cold breeze punctuated by you suddenly not able to meet his eyes. 

“Date me. Change… this. I know that you… I know you don’t have time for that.” 

Except he doesn’t hear that, he hears me. 

He suspects you don’t say it to hurt him. 

But it does. 

It wounds—

It fucking burns. It’s on par with a bullet or a rusty knife, twisting and twisting until it’s hitting nerves and making muscles quake. 

It worsens when the kettle clicks, ready—waiting. It blows steam under your cupboards, billowing out around the edges before it rushes to the ceiling. Twisting, turning, desperate to escape the uncomfortable space between the two of you. 

But, he just wants to pull you close—impossibly close. He wants to cradle and fucking hug you, even if he never hugs anyone. Simon wants to tell you that he hasn’t been doing this with anyone else. That it’s been over a year of this, and even he knows it’s something. 

Admittedly, yeah, he didn’t think he’d have fucking time for someone, and then you came in and blew that all to shit. But, on some level inside of him, he knows they aren’t the words he should be saying. So silence fills the space instead. 

Doubling. Tripling. Expanding like foam and smoothing over crevices as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

And he knows he should just ask again. 

Softer. Maybe with a bit more emotion. Counting in his head. One. Two, fucking Three. 

Your body turning, holding out a mug you got him—big, black with tiny ghosts on it. Because you’d pestered and pestered to know what he was called. What his alias is when he shoots people. The mug made you grin when you handed it to him last time—tired of him taking your favourite. The one with a quote from a television show you keep promising to show him. Sarcastic. Almost makes his teeth show when he smiles. He almost does the same when he takes the mug, and you turn away from him. 

Now when he takes it, your eyes drop to the floor. To the space between the two of you.

The one which feels vast, and far larger than the bar ever felt.  

All Simon wonders is why there’s a pit opening inside of him—why it is filling him with a feeling he wants to cut out of himself. It’s not light or nice, it’s dark and twisty. 

Because he’s the same person who goes on stupid solo missions where the percentage of survival is low, and still fucking comes back to base with whatever was asked of him. He’s Ghost—a man who many fear. Who is often coated in more of other people’s blood than he is dirt. 

And yet this—

You.

Terrify the living fuck out of him. Not that he’s showing that. He knows he’s stood with a stiff back, and a face devoid of any emotions. 

“You said it when we first… Just… I know your job is important. I know you can’t commit and I respect—”

“Sweetheart.”

Your eyes meet his. Teeth biting your lip, arms crossing over your chest.  

And shit, he hopes to never see this face ever again. This nervous, unsure face that he’s put there. One which complicates everything and pulls on every string inside of him. 

You are an enigma, and he’s not even sure you know it. 

You’re something he never deserves, something he never thought he’d have, get, or keep. 

Yet, here you are. 

Someone who has seen every inch of him. Knows what he does. Where he goes. You even know brief moments of his past, the parts of him that he’d rather take to the grave. 

You are important. You matter. 

He’s falling—free-falling, in fact—and has been for a while, he didn’t even acknowledge it. Pushing it down, letting it sit with all the other things he doesn’t want to deal with. 

“Do’ya wanna go out with me tonight?” 

Each word hits you, strokes you. He watches as each syllable lands, your eyes reading him. 

“You back for long, Simon?”

His lips twitch. “Little bit.”

And then you smile. All devious and cunning, lips twisting as you unfold your arms and adjust your stance. “I think I’d prefer a takeaway. Keep you to myself, while I 'ave you.” 

Standing, crossing the small space of your kitchen as he cages you in. Your hand clutching his cheek, soft, gentle, and more than he fucking deserves. 

His head lowers, lips close to your ear as you curl your body into him as he whispers, all gruff and quiet so only you—and not a fly or spirit could hear—says, “I’ve always been just yours, sweetheart.”

Simon doesn't expect a response. More a kiss. Maybe even a roll of your hips.

It's why he doesn't expect the words, "I'd hoped so", or the way they make him feel like he's walking on air.

[compact-turtle]

Can we get some fun facts on Orion? He's such an interesting character to read about the way you write is immaculate

Of course!! Don’t know if these are fun facts lol but here’s a little bit about Orion, the yandere space explorer…

-was not meant to land on your planet. An unexpected asteroid through him off collision to his original destination. 

-weak baby with noodle arms (at least in your eyes).

- master manipulator and gaslighter. 

-likes when you accidentally hurt him (scratches him, playfully bites too hard, etc…) because it means you give him more attention. He’ll play it up saying he’s gonna die from it because humans are so weak compare to you. 

“I didn’t know I could be in this much pain. I’m afraid I’ll die from this injury. Could you hold my hand and sing me a song so I feel a bit better?” 

-a bit emotionally dumb and hasn’t realized his feelings for you. Just knows he doesn’t want to share you or your world with anyone else. 

-has two different journals. One dedicated strictly to you. Another for whatever else he deems important. 

-can do bare minimum cooking. Uhhh safer for you to do it though. 

-but amazing at cleaning and organizing your house :) 

-He says you go foraging “together” but it’s just you babysitting. You have to make sure he isn’t eaten by a creature while he’s scribbling notes in his journal. Has happened multiple times ( ；´Д｀)

-is the epitome of the kid who touches stuff at the store when their parents (you) tell them not to. 

-got offered the mission because the original explorer died. He was the only one who volunteered. The team was on a tight schedule from their superiors and had no other choice but him.(Otherwise they wouldn’t have let someone with no survival skills go) 

-complains a lot.You’ll take him on trips and he’ll complain about his his feet hurt. Ends with you carrying him. Thankfully he feels as light a feather to you so it’s not a big deal. 

-adores when you play with his hair. He enjoys the feeling of you running your fingers through it or when you braid it. 

-will die if he doesn’t receive at least one instance of physical contact . Could just be snuggling together in bed or you carrying him through the woods. 

-loves doing culture exchanges with you. He’ll tell you stories about his people and you’ll sing songs from your culture. 

-hates when you feed him vegetables. Would rather starve 

-on the other hand. Loves sweet things and has the biggest sweet tooth. 

-has become spoiled because of you. You adore your new friend so you often bring him presents. 

-tried to adopt a dangerous creature until you told him to put it back in the wild :( 

-enjoys that he doesn’t have to pay for things. Back on his planet, his salary was pretty low since he was only a junior researcher. Didn’t help that he lived in the capital where everything was expensive. 

-his diet consisted of energy drinks, caffeine, ramen noodles and candy back on his home planet

-can do a backflip if you ask (only cool trick he knows)

[sokkabaddiebender2021]

ok y’all i finally finished the neflix live action avatar and…….don’t hate me……..but i enjoyed it 😭 my standards for entertainment is honestly on whether or not it entertained me, so honestly i question my standards.

first off, the visuals and score was absolutely amazing. the fight scenes were well choreographed, and the bending, which i was super nervous about, looked actually amazing.

i think we can all agree the writing and dialogue was pretty choppy at times, and the delivery could be better at times. but i also think (most) of the energy of the original characters was captured well. katara honestly got done the dirtiest because why was she so…….not passionate??? i’m hoping later on she gets more so because that’s a key trait of katara. i was very disappointed with that :/

what they did to suki too……..i liked her being a little awkward and such because it makes sense but i felt like too much of her character was dedicated to her having a crush on sokka. like where is her attitude, her ferocity?

i think aang was played very well by gordon cormier, especially considering this is a child actor we are taking about. his line delivery isn’t going to be great and yes he is a real boy so he can’t be as cartoony as some would hope but i think he was absolutely adorable.

surprise surprise, i loved dallas liu as zuko. i think there were some pretty whack line deliveries but he really captured the anger and cringeyness of zuko well. his martial arts were also also incredible, his fight scenes were my favorite to watch. the scene with him crying quietly on the bed when ozai banishing him shattered me, his subtle acting is underrated honestly.

i have my beef with ian ousley as sokka mostly because of the controversy and such, but i can’t lie he did play sokka well. yet again, as for the last characters, some line deliveries were iffy but he was still a very believable sokka.

so for the writing, i have LOTS OF OPINIONS. there were things they cut that definitely upset me, and that was just because of their lowkey questionable pacing. as much as i hate the slimeball, i missed a lot of the interesting parts of zhao’s story that they cut like his agni kai, jeuong jeuong (aang’s fear of fire??), zuko SAVING him. i feel like they had something interesting there with building a fake alliance with him and zuko, and they didn’t build more off it. [edit] that so, the dude who played zhao had me losing my shit. his line delivery was hilarious and i just love that zhao just gives that manager no one likes/that one creepy math teacher in high school vibes (only combination i could think of y’all).

the additions to zuko’s story was something i absolutely loved. i found myself actually getting very emotional with a lot of the flashbacks, and the 41st division being his crew 🥹🥹 but then i find myself being upset that we were shown other flashbacks so early (like the death of katara’s mother??).

i actually hate the hate azula’s actress is getting. she’s playing a 14 year old……like a 14 year old?? she wasn’t even in season 1 in the og so ofc she’s gonna not be the same, i’m hoping this means they’re building up her up to her fierceness in season 2.

one last critique PLEASE GET A WIG BUDGET GOOD LORD THOSE WIGS WERE BAAAAD. and also a lot of their costumes looked fake or like plastic this was actually my least favorite part 😭

overall, not as horrible as people make it out to be, i had a good time but obviously the og will always be the higher quality product. i’m just glad the young actors seemed to really be passionate for the project :)

[rinbylin]

top 5 dihua moments

HELLO ohhh goddd if i really really really have to pick... I'LL TRY (in tears)

in chronological order of the episodes:

(1) “你这个人最大的弱点就是喜欢当英雄。一个剑客不该有弱点。” your greatest weakness is that you like being a hero. a swordsman should be without weaknesses. (ep 1)

i'm as in love with the entire donghai scene as much as the next person but this dialogue is particularly special to me. so it was the first one i pinned down for this list. no hesitation. :)

it's a cornerstone of dihua's relationship; the thesis of lxy/llh's and their joint narrative. it prompts the deconstruction of the staple wuxia ideas of 侠 xia and heroism - which is what i really love lhl for. and dfs being the one to deliver this incredibly crucial and significant line is 10/10. he knew lxy even better than lxy did. he is the bearer and catalyst of lhl's story, lxy/llh's story.

"your greatest weakness is that you like being a hero. a swordsman should be without weaknesses." so what does it even mean to be a hero. is it more important to be a hero than being human. and i will become human. i am human and always have been. and i have weaknesses - i cannot win against fate, i am dying. but what ever is even wrong with being weak? being human is to have weaknesses. so i guess it's no wonder for the narrative to come in a full circle with dfs coming in possession of a weakness and be trapped in it. no longer the killer of di fortress. he's just a human being.

and llh bringing this up again in ep 11 feels to me that he had been carrying these words with him over the past 10 years. bicha and the battle have transformed him physically. but i like to think that dfs's words had an important role to play in an even deeper level of change.

all it took was this one scene to sell to me that this would probably be the kind of narrative i love.

(2) reunion in the woods (ep 8)

it's just so fucking good like literally every dihua scene. who doesn't love a good post-divorce first meeting scene. there's just a lot to chew on. most of all, llh just had to keep reminding dfs how well he knew dfs. we know the moon has always been this bright, alright. AND they were threatening each other. very sexy of them.

(3) whatever the heck was going between them in cailianzhuang arc (ep 11)

truly nothing brings out old married couple + parents vibes better than an inquisitive boy accusing you two of being up to something secretive behind his back. both their guilty expressions. :3 also dfs being the first person huahua goes to when he doesn't want to be alone. huahua being exceptionally chatty around dfs and dfs has no problem entertaining him. :3 they're totally on the same wavelength without having to say anything to each other and this arc brings it out so well.

(4) 腊月二十七 donghai anniversary wedding night (ep 38)

this is the last one i came up for the list after fighting a whole war in my mind over which 5 of the 100000 beloved scenes to pick. hate being predictable but. you just HAVE to give it to it. how do you NOT pick this for a top 5. all the 10 million other top 5 dihua scenes just had to make space for the anniversary scene. :'(

if i had to be even more specific, i think the scene of them in bed most likely takes the cake for me. llh literally saved dfs's life and helped him to become the stronger person he has always wanted to be. and perhaps no other moment exhibits the complementary yin and yang nature of their powers/energies in a more illustrative and palpable way. undershirts in bed just hits different from being fully clothed and one person literally having to keep the other person alive by touch...and this time it's llh for dfs despite the whole time it's dfs who was dedicated to keep llh alive. they have no lack of scenes that exhibit how in sync they are intellectually, and this is peak physical intimacy and tenderness, added with a brush with death/mortality yeah...

(5) llh/lxy's farewell to dfs (ep 40)

playing cheat here by combining two different moments :) but they are essentially connected. llh/lxy had to leave. and since it really had to be that way, i'm glad dfs was on his mind until the very end. what more can one ask for. there is really nothing more dear and tender in the world to be thought of

-

tl;dr: /blows kisses to every dihua moment

[web-novel-polls]

Best Hater Upper Bracket

Please vote for whoever’s best at being a hater, not who you like the most. If unfamiliar with a character, check out the propaganda below the cut! 

Shen Yuan / Shen Qingqiu from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System 

Submission 1: He was an anti fan that literally got so mad at a novel he was reading that he died and then was transmigrated into the novel he hated (besides the main character) as the villain. The author of said novel also transmigrated and they formed a love/hate broship.

Submission 2: 

My man is the hater-est hater to ever hate, except like Kendrick Lamar. He hate-read a webnovel with over 20 million words, and left scathing commentary on every single chapter. Even the author Shang Qinghua, of the webnovel PIDW, which by subtext was very very popular, knew Shen Yuan (Peerless Cucumber) as the legendary anti-fan.  He hated it (everything except the protagonist Luo Binghe) so much that after reading the last chapter, he choked and died (...slight exaggeration). Shen Yuan also proceeded to transmigrate into the novel, make everyone fall in love with him, use the power of headpats and 'a smile from the cold beauty' to overturn the genre from harem-esqe to danmei, bending the protagonist. Tldr, the power of Shen Yuan's haterism turned Cool Edgy Awesomely Powerful Protagonist Luo Binghe to soggy wet clingy white lotus bing-bong Bingmei, and it's honestly better off this way <3 

Submission 3: he's an internet hater screenname Peerless Cucumber who hates this webnovel so much he dies and transmigrates into it to fix the entire plot and also he's left so many hate comments the author (fellow transmigrator) knows and remembers who he is after being in the webnovel world for decades. Dedication. 

Yu Ziyuan from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Submission: I would not blame anyone who went through the first half of the story believing that Yu Ziyuan hated every single person she ever met because she talks shit about her husband, her son, her adopted son, and her daughter whenever she gets the chance to. Sometimes all at the same time. She projects so much raw hater energy that she psychologically scarred her son for life. 

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Some good old fluff! How would the JJK men comfort a sad s/o and vise versa? 🫂 HCs please and thanks!

ooo, I love this!!! We all need some fluff in our life, lets do this!

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo’s method of trying to comfort you is trying to make you laugh. 

Gojo is the “Run from you emotions and never ever ever confront that shit” and while he would never push that on to you, it’s how he knows how to cope

He’d hold you close while making soft jokes just to try and make you smile

Hopefully if you’re with Gojo you have a sense of humor, even a dark one, so hopefully it doesn’t hurt your feelings more.

If it does, he P A N I C S but internally to not stress you out more. Outwardly he softly apologizes and shuts the hell up

Which is honestly probably what you need as well

He brings you tea for sure

Tea is warm and safe and comforting, and here: Put it inside you, it helps

He’s doing his best, ok?

Making him feel better is a little more straightforward. 

Make him laugh, make him giggle, joke around with him anything. 

When Gojo is sad, the last thing he wants to do is think about it. That can be saved for late at night when he can't sleep. For now, he just wants to take his mind off of it. 

So just make him laugh. It won’t be hard honestly. 

Sit with him and distract him, he’ll feel better eventually. 

Your proximity to him ensures that.

Suguru Geto

His comfort is quiet. It’s him holding you while you cry into him, assuring you it will all be ok.

It’s gentle forehead kisses and back rubbing while you cuddle on the bed

He wraps the two of you in your favorite blanket and turning on your comfort medias. 

He’s willing to cancel the day and just stay with you and be there for you when you’re upset, honestly

He’s dedicating all of his time and love into you while you're emotionally recovering

And when he’s upset he honestly just wants the same thing.

He wants you to rest your head on his chest and tell him how much you love him.

He needs to know you're going to be there for him, no matter what and unconditionally. 

Geto is in an almost constant emotional pain, and he’s extremely good at hiding it. 

So when it gets to the point that it’s visible you know it’s bad. It’s soul crushing.

And a part of him hates the fact that all it takes is a hug from you to soothe that pain, just a little.

A part of him is relieved that he has you to remove some of this immense emotional burden off of him.

But 100% of him is positive that he needs you, more than he needs air. 

So just hug him for a little bit when he’s sad, yea?

Kento Nanami

He does the guy thing where he tries to find solutions

Even if you don’t want solutions.

He copes with his own sadness by trying to solve the problem, so logically that would help others, right?

But, if you communicate with him that you don’t want solutions you just want to vent, he will shut up and listen. 

But, ya gotta communicate that first. 

He’d probably make you your favorite warm meal while you talk as well, that way you have another form of comfort when you finished venting.

He makes that as well as your favorite hot drink

When he’s upset, he wants to talk about it.

He wants you to sit with him and come up with ways to try and solve the situation. Just talking with you helps really

He finds your voice rather soothing

And if there really is no way possible to fix it, he wants a distraction. 

Talk to him about the weather, what shows you like, how your day has been.

He doesn't want to waste energy on what he can’t fix. 

He'd rather pour that energy into you.

Ryomen Sukuna

AH SHIT, HERE WE GO AGAIN

I struggle so hard anytime yall want Sukuna to get all cute and fluffy because he Does. Not. Function. Like That!

Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. When he sees you cry he gets annoyed. 

He tells you to stop, like full stop my guy lmaooo

He’s like throwing toilet paper rolls at you like “Tears! Ahh! Dry them, Dry them!”

….Buuuuuutttt It wouldn’t be my Sukuna if he didn’t have a soft spot.

Sukuna is avoiding you, yes. But, you do find small comforts around the house. Ones that he surely left you. 

Little candies or even flowers.

And eventually, late at night, he does come around to hold you while you drift into sleep. 

Not for you though, not at all. All of this is for him…somehow. Just trust me, ok!

When he’s upset, if you were smart you’d steer clear of him.

But you’re in love with Sukuna, so how smart could you be?

That was a self burn btw.

Comforting Sukuna is honestly just being domestic with him. 

DO NOT acknowledge the fact he’s in pain. That's calling him out for being vulnerable and that will not end well. 

But, do make him some tea and talk to him about your day. Ask him to sit with you while you tend to the flowers, or walk the grounds with you. Cuddle into his side while “forcing” him to watch something on tv.

Those are the little things he needs. Despite what Ryomen says, he’s completely and utterly in love with you, you being alive is testament to that. So when he’s upset, all he wants to do is be near you. 

Ryomen is constantly paranoid that you don't actually have feelings for him. For all intents and purposes, you shouldn’t. So, when he gets even a little bit of confirmation that you actually do love him too, that’s all he needs to feel even a little bit better.

[daisys-reality]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

What kind of person is your DR significant other?

General disclaimer: super long reading ahead. This pac reading is meant for my reality shifters who have a special someone in their desired reality. This reading is timeless in a way but you can adjust it as you see fit. I hope you guys enjoy this. <3 All of them were cuties, you guys have good taste. 💫

If you like to read more pac readings from me, feel free to check out my masterlist ! If you want to share your experiences and/or give me feedback and/or share pac ideas, I would be very happy if you send me an ask over tumblr !!! (Also, fyi I don't own any of these beautiful pics, I just edited them!)

pile one

Hello pile one! Your s/o is definitely a strong person - not necessarily physically (could be) but I’m feeling more so that they have a strong core - mental and emotional strength. Self-confident and proud of their abilities and even physical shape, ready to perform feats any time. With their unwavering focus they have their eyes on their goal, to be on top. They can be very patient if they want to be but they must win by all means, they hate losing. Their energy is regal, they naturally demand respect. Their strife and energy is inspiring for some, for others it’s a bit intimidating. They can be quite calculating and like to think things through, but sometimes their impulses win them over. They surely don’t like dancing to someone else's tune, it’s just not for them lol. Even though they have great leadership qualities, they are more on the introverted spectrum - but definitely by no means shy. They don’t have a lot of close/intimate connection, not many know their inner core. Though they always strive to become better in every sense, personal (and I would even say spiritual) growth is important for them, they even dedicate their whole life to that because they want to ‘master’ themself. Some might mistake them as hard to access or aloof but those with a keener eye know better. They are very observant, stealth and precise in their words and actions. They just do not like wasting energy or resources. Their presence is strong but peacefully calm (if not provoked lol). Reliable and grounded. They might at times tend to get too serious or withdraw too much (for example in stressful times). 

They are not the type to do anything merely for the sake of a whim or pleasure; they live to "satisfy their hunger," without hurting anyone for the sake of ordinary self-satisfaction. I feel like there is a great need to be surrounded by luxury and wealth - even better if they have lots of power. Ok this could seem greedy to some but they are also perfectly capable of enjoying the here and now and all the things that surround them while simultaneously striving for an even better future. Could be that where they are now is very different to where their life started. They are the type that is always solving some problems because they can identify them maybe more quickly than others. Justice and fairness are also values they live by, they actually have nice intentions and want everyone to get along … omg i think they were actually a softie as a kid but life teached them the hard way :(  . They truly just desire stability and balance, and they will fight as long as they can make these desires come true. They have high (and precious) ideals but sadly in the real world ideals rarely exist in pristine form and justice is elusive - forcing them (and everyone else) to have to make some decisions and to adjust once ideals and values. They have learned their lessons the hard way - or will their whole life. Hardworking, and also very prideful.  I think they do care quite a bit about traditions and their reputation. I also feel like they can be pretty straightforward, blunt even. They mean what they say and say what they mean. They prioritize truth above all. They are usually active and assertive. No nonsense person - even when it comes to appearance. They prefer practicality and are more so unpretentious in their style. I think they love being physically active in all kinds of ways (iykwim lmao) - depending on what world their living in - I can also see them even enjoying fighting or battling other people (until all their energy is burn off/until their reach their limit and then training more and more). 

Even emotionally they are honest. They have integrity and they don’t play mind games and are unafraid to admit that they’re wrong. Mature but not afraid to express themselves. Love matters and such are usually not on the front of their mind. Their surroundings might be quite demanding (many responsibilities, people who rely on them etc). If you are in a  connection/relationship/friendship with them, they would always let you know where you stand with them/ where you’re heading with them. The type of person who will be clear about what they are looking for. With this person, it’s suggested that you take everything they say at face value. The truth may sometimes hurt, but at least they are telling the truth. *

Physically, they mastered the art of looking effortless. Funnily enough they could have the certain “je ne sais quoi” vibe about them that many envy. Something that would normally look disheveled on another person looks sexy on them - that kinda thing. They don’t follow trends. They are very laid back and chill, with a slight youthful energy. They also give me the vibe of ‘They eat what they want when they want it, and they work out when they feel like it.’ I guess it has to do with their belief that life is short to base it around what others think is right and what not etc.

They are the type of person that is kinda apathetic about their general surroundings. Mhm maybe it’s just the fact that they are struggling with their own life and are too distracted by their own issues to worry about others.  Emotionally they could also be a bit careless. They can come off as ungrateful and lacking in self-awareness. This person regardless of your DR setting I think is not as much concerned with larger social justice issues. This person may be very short-sighted in that sense. They refuse to get involved with situations unless they can directly benefit from it. If it doesn’t affect them, it is not of their concern lmao. Ok, this seems a bit harsh but I feel like this kind of selfish attitude is working like a shell for them. I said before that they maybe were very ‘soft and pure’ as a child and it could be that they were also quite sensitive, okay? And you know I suppose that life treated them too harshly which in turn made them cold and even apathetic. You know those villains in  movies that were actually very kind as a child but abuse and what not made them get astray from their path. I’m not saying that your s/o is a villain or villainous but they just learned that caring too much about others or being too naive is not worth it in the end and will only hurt you. And I feel like they sometimes present themselves colder and harsher than they actually are to protect themselves. To be honest, I usually analyze the things I pick up and filter them accordingly but the first messages I be getting from them are all like ‘I’m indifferent. I don’t care about other people, I’m very cold towards others. I’m arrogant yada yada…’ which kinda seems like a self mantra or like affirmation you tell yourself where I am like why tf you being like this ?? lmao…So, yeah…again, it takes some time and lot’s of patience to feel comfortable enough to share parts of themselves. It could be that at some point in their life they hated themselves for their softer side. They wanted to become stronger and colder. They hated being on the receiving end of this harsh reality, they wanted to be on top, maybe they also wanted revenge of some sort. I think they kinda like showing their rough edges or intimidating others. Because you know, if people are intimidated by you they usually do not dare to disrespect you, right? It could also have to do with their pride and with them hating revealing any weakness of theirs.

Also, whatever they are working on in their life, their work life makes up a large portion of their identity. They take a lot of pride in the amount of work they put into their achievements. This might also not be very apparent to others but I feel like they often reach their limit, working for too long, too hard and just ending up really tired and burned out. I feel like they rarely engage in anything self-care related. However, I see that if there is something important to them, then they are 100% willing to put in the work. Not only are they hard-working in a professional sense, they’re willing to work on their relationships, spirituality, and self-improvement. They make an effort with their looks, and they work out. Their workaholism may negatively impact their health. And their ‘career’ ambitions usually motivate them to always appear presentable — just in case they run into anybody important. They could also be meticulous with their diet and health routines. 

Emotionally, they work on their emotions and thoughts systematically. This person may enjoy journaling or chronicling their experiences. At some point in their life they will learn how to process their feelings in a constructive way. They generally understand that anything worthwhile takes work and time to build up, whether it’s a relationship or a business. If you’re romantically involved with this person, they could be the type who would be willing to go to couples therapy to work on your relationship issues. It does seem like they believe in fixing what they already have rather than giving up.  They are the type to make you feel like you’re with somebody who makes an effort. Whether you’re linked to this person romantically, platonically, or professionally, there’s a sense that they give as much into the relationship as you do. They don’t make you do all the work. This person is also persistent in everything they do. Always working on their self-improvement, they also have the humility to learn something new at every stage of life. To be honest, if you take the time to get to know them, you will see that they’re truly a sincere and earnest person.

(*Actually, I had finished this reading at this point already and started doing the other two piles but they turned longer than pile one and I felt the need to continue this pile at another time. I don’t know if this information is useful for you. But I feel your s/o just really takes a lot of time to open up, they have a lot of different layers to them and a hard shell. Their true inner self is a lot more different than how they seem to be outwardly. Just so you know, with this person you really gotta be patient if you want to build something whether it’s true friendship or a romantic relationship.)

(** I also wanted to let you know that I mentioned your s/o  a little bit in pile two, I will just copy-paste here, so that you don’t have to read the whole 2nd pile:  “Like pile one they can be very very patient! At first I got the feeling that the energy of pile two seems a little similar to pile one (only slightly) but while pile one seems more like the male lead of some isekai manhwa (like the typically black haired red eyes archduke lmao) that other people label as the villain - logical, unpredictable (kinda wild), powerful, intimidating and confident but a little withdrawn; pile two seems more like the second male lead - appearing smart and polite with a charming personality but then you find out they are actually controlling the whole empire behind the scenes and know everything that is going on lmao (obviously this comparison with ‘male leads’ has nothing to do with their gender - I just read too many isekai manhwas).) 

(*** Also, I don’t why but the whole time during the reading I thought about Madara Uchiha from Naruto [I am a naruto stan btw so no shame✋] Even though he was one of the main villains, he was a softie as a child. He lived in cruel (war) times, lost all his family members (esp. his precious little brother at the end) and the ‘betrayal’ of his clan and the mistreatment from his one and only friend and true love just made him lose his mind… :( Anyways, I can understand if you shift for him sfjdk)

-> Possible energies in their chart : They definitely have strong air energy in some form in their chart mixed with a little earth and fire. Specifically, they could have/be one of the following signs: Libra, Capricorn, Virgo, Leo, Sagittarius (maybe even Scorpio/Cancer).

-> Timeless messages for you from them :

I hope the future will bring us together.

They took their time with this one lmao - I thought I wouldn’t get a message from them at first because they were hesitating to share something - but after this reading we all know they truly mean it from the bottom of their heart hehe

Once I continued this reading I tried to get a few more messages for you:

I don’t know what you see in me…

You shouldn’t wait for me. Prioritize your happiness.

It could lead to problems...

Other things/people were interfering and trying to control me and this connection.

I’m working on myself…I want a fresh start.

Not seeing you is hurting me so much…

The last message dayumm… Another advice I got from you which I think is more so regarding your shifting journey is that you’re asked to be patient because the passing of time will naturally solve your problems. In some situations only endurance helps. In the meantime, try to relax and focus on your happiness. Do something kind for yourself that warms your heart and treasure those seconds when you feel your heart beating. Also don’t reveal or show your personal treasures and things that are important to you to just anyone - not everyone is capable of understanding its preciousness. Just know and rest assured that everything will solve itself with time.

Thank you for reading, I would be very happy for some feedback. <3 Wishing you good luck on your journey, pile one!!

pile two

Hello pile two! Your s/o has a very calm energy. You might lose your sense of time while looking into their eyes lol. Something about their eyes or their gaze is special, mesmerizing even. They are very good at observing and analyzing; paying attention to details. There might be a tendency to overthink or over-analyze or just to take it to extremes at times - falling into traps of pettiness or obsession or being overly critical. This obviously not always the case but there MIGHT be a tendency. But all this observing is not for nothing, I see that they are very skilled and talented in what they do. The type to learn from other people’s mistakes while observing and acting behind the scenes. Like pile one they can be very very patient! Like pile one they can be very very patient! At first I got the feeling that the energy of pile two seems a little similar to pile one (only slightly) but while pile one seems more like the male lead of some isekai manhwa (like the typically black haired red eyes archduke lmao) that other people label as the villain - logical, unpredictable (kinda wild), powerful, intimidating and confident but a little withdrawn; pile two seems more like the second male lead - appearing smart and polite with a charming personality but then you find out they are actually controlling the whole empire behind the scenes and know everything that is going on lmao (obviously this comparison with ‘male leads’ has nothing to do with their gender - I just read too many isekai manhwas).

They’re someone that people might underestimate at first or think that they are harmless - maybe that’s exactly how they want to appear mhm… I do get the feeling that they are very good at seducing and charming people into doing what they want (they probably seduce you with their eyes and a little smile sdkslja). I just heard ‘they eye of the storm’, boii ok they can be really really calm even when everything around them is in chaos (- maybe that’s their doing?? lmao), they can shut out any distraction in order to analyze what is truly going on. And they can be very tenacious and persistent while actualizing their plans. I already mentioned that they are very skilled in some way but they also have an artistic side to them. I am not sure what exactly it is - it might be different for each of your s/o’s - some might be creative with fashion, self expression, acting, with music or instruments or other creative tools while for example planning how to reach their goals. Or maybe even with plants and nature if we look at this pile’s picture! Either way, they have an eye for aesthetics as well. 

There is definitely something working behind the scenes, in hiding, under different names or with wearing masks (literally or metaphorical) - I think they learned in life that doing so usually works in their favor but it also at times limits their creativity and I feel like it created some (still unresolved) issues regarding self image and success. Maybe they’re suffering from imposter syndrome; always questioning who they really are ‘Am I who my audience thinks I am? What if I want to grow into something more/different?’ - is this creative ego fear? idk but in this aspect they seem like a ‘suffering artist’ - i think this shows itself more strongly in stressful times; then, they might also become more competitive. Not only are they good at creating new things and actualizing them, it also helps them to balance and calm themselves down in those times.

Their energy is very focused and sovereign. They also have natural leadership qualities but it manifests differently than in pile one’s s/o; it is more indirect and less straightforward and less pushy because pile two understands other people and their feelings and motivation better and they can use this to lead the people in the direction they want. I think they have always easily drawn other people’s attention but they might have been more shy in their childhood and only learned over time to just accept the spotlight - and to use it efficiently. As a child they might have been the type to ‘let life happen to them’, living their life very passively - maybe they had people around them that were very dominant/authoritative/manipulative/moody and your s/o just learned to observe and analyze, to adjust themselves and to be obedient. Maybe they weren’t even interested in taking on responsibilities or even to take control of their own life - I have a feeling that they were pushed into a position early on in their life that they really didn’t like. Only over time they gathered their courage, gained their confidence and took on their rightful place. On a side note, their older self might have a tendency to become slightly arrogant - they should avoid this.

They are an investor type of person, patient, methodical and systematic, not afraid to move slowly. They understand the importance of nurturing and cultivating the people and things they care about. A balance between masculine and feminine, active and passive, assertive and receptive. Taking their time when it comes to their body, health and their physical appearance. For them it’s a good investment to treat their physical body well. Persistent and disciplined, but also patient with themselves. They would never push themselves too hard at training or dieting or whatever. They prefer wearing clothes of high quality (talking about good investments again lol) rather than following some fashion trends. Not only are they good at patiently saving up for quality items they also tend to keep their investment pieces for a very long time. Timeless and practical in style.

Even emotionally they are patient and persistent. Not the type to rush anything. Keen observer who likes gathering information before making decisions. As a friend they are very generous and selfless - maybe even the type of person who likes to provide and help all of their friends (they don’t expect really anything in return but pls show at least your appreciation - they will maybe turn a blind eye to it a few times but if the disrespect keeps on repeating itself (you exploiting them and being rude) I can assure you it won’t end well for you lmao - don’t force them to be mean to you!). In romantic involvements with this person, don’t expect this person to commit quickly - even with people and relationships they take their time to analyze, observe and nurture. Slow burn. They are actually quite good at nurturing others (like they are good at self care) and they can be very passionate. Always thinking long term. A visionary at times. They are the type of person who makes you feel like it’s ok to slow down  and take your time. They are not quitters but they know how to rest and when to let go of what they can’t control. 

I think the picture really fits them well (regardless of gender); them in a white simple but pretty dress tending towards their plants with care while standing in this calm and pretty environment which they alone created - like in a safe peaceful bubble. A creator and nurturer. 

-> Possible energies in their chart : They definitely have strong earth energy in some form in their chart mixed with a little fire and water. Specifically, they could have in their chart: Virgo, Taurus, Leo, strong Saturn and Mercury energy, strong Pluto/8th house, 

-> Timeless messages for you from them :

We are healing and learning with all of this.

I am jealous just imagining you being with someone else.

I have always loved you… I’m sorry for realizing it so late.

This is too much for me right now…

I am not ready (yet).

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

You, my dear pile two, have or will definitely have something romantically going on there hehe… The order of these messages seem a little messed up but that’s how I received them. I felt ‘yearning energy’ from them but it felt a little hesitant and a bit uncontrolled - like they feel a lot for you but also want to take this slow and not rush this because they respect you and value you really a lot!

Thank you for reading, I would be very happy for some feedback. <3 Wishing you good luck on your journey, pile two!!

pile three

Hello! Dear pile three, your s/o surely is a person with a unique personality or they are quite unique or special to you/in your perception. One of the first things that I got about them is that they are a systems thinker, always figuring out how to get everything working together effectively. I can tell that they love well-built structures and nothing makes them happier than when everything is running smoothly and everyone is doing their part. By contrast, nothing annoys them more than when systems are poorly designed or built. You know they are the type of person that thinks that one never changes things by fighting the existing reality; to change something, you have to build a new model that makes the existing one obsolete. Once they  understand the impact of a given action, they will never be able to ignore that problem until they have done their part to fix it. 

They just excel at figuring things out and optimizing them. In fact, they have literally no tolerance in efficient things lmao. To be honest, it feels like it takes a bit of work to get them to work together. I think they have a slow internal processor (also very micro focused) - does that make sense? - either way that doesn't mean they’re stupid - in fact they are quite intelligent and have a sharp mind! Also, their sense of responsibility is quite strong. They’re always doing something and are quite stubborn/rigid in their ways - not very flexible. They are list makers and are all about the process. When things do not go as planned they can be very moody. In fact, the slightest interruption to a plan is enough to ruin their entire day (lmao I feel this). They are very detail oriented, for them specifics equal sincerity. They just have extremely high standards (often perfection) especially for themselves but also for other people). Even though they just want to improve the things around them, it might often seem to others that they are just overly critical - like nothing is good enough for them. I honestly feel like they do not get along well with others easily. They surely are incredibly loyal and also self denying. If you’re someone important to them they would do anything for you and I can assure it will be done well! While it often doesn’t seem that way from an outsider perspective, they do tend to put everyone else's needs ahead of their own and if they're not careful they will become resentful of this because they feel the burden to do it. At times this is a very justified feeling, at others it is a self-inflicted choice to take on the tasks. They are very practical and logical. Their thought process is analytical and systematic. This means that they have a specific way in which they feel things should be done. If it does not go as planned or if it does not go in this way, they feel it is "wrong" and this irritates them which in my opinion is comprehensible if you understand how their mind works. Flexibility is not in the inherent skill set for them. If they find a method, they stick to it. 

It is important to notice that their intention is truly to help other people; however, more often than not, it feels like criticism to those people but this is just because it is hard for others to understand your s/o. I truly think they are not good at expressing themselves. They might have suffered from this - like being misunderstood, people finding their presence ‘annoying’ - too strong, too negative - and therefore they might have always been excluded or rejected by their peer groups. Of course this might have played out differently for each of your s/o’s my pile three people. When people suffer from such intense need for perfection, they usually have grown up in an environment where their parental figures (or just the people around them) made them feel like ‘this level of perfection’ is the norm - and if they don’t reach this level they are ‘complete failures or just useless’. They might have been emotionally pressured from early on, probably not having experienced much ‘healthy’ love - I say this because if they have done well, they might have received some kind of superficial/fake ‘love’ but only for those moments until they would have ‘failed the expectations’ again. This screams toxic emotionally/mentally unstable or distant parents. I don’t want to go any deeper into their childhood, right? But there is a reason why people are the way they are. Your person probably has never been ‘seen’ the way they truly are, never been understood - they just lived for someone else, constantly working hard, bearing the pressure, just to help someone else, to reach those imposed expectations, just to receive love and maybe even an approval for their existence. They always feel so much weight on their shoulders. So, to give you some tips, try not to take offense when they are serious and hyper focused. And, know that it is important to them that you appreciate their contributions. They value logic and need everything to make sense, so be sure you explain your point thoroughly. And finally, if you seem unstructured, or “willy nilly” to them this will create anxiety and possibly even a lack of trust! So, be careful with this. Show them respect by respecting their need for quality, logic, and structure. This person is probably wise beyond their years. This might surprise you at first. Behind their normal facade, they may have a lot of wisdom to share.

For physical characteristics, your s/o probably doesn’t put too much weight on fashion or anything they wear. They may have a very wise worldview on fashion and style. For example, they may choose what to wear in an almost philosophical way, but at the same time, they don’t take fashion too seriously lol. They might be the type to care about how the garments they wear were sourced or produced. They are someone who is practical in the way they dress, prioritizing ease of movement. They may enjoy wearing athleisure, light fabrics. I feel like their preferred look might be very active and athletic. They might enjoy spending time outdoors and/or hiking. Overall, they give me the vibes that they are very at peace with their physical appearance and that they’re very self-accepting and easygoing. If they do not appear that way at the time you get to know them, then it might have to do with their past/childhood which I assume was not really the best - so to say ‘unresolved childhood issues/trauma’. Even though they might have had some self harm inflicting habits or tendencies in their childhood, I feel like with age they learned the importance of a healthy body (but it feels like it’s more so because of efficiency than self love/self worth but oh well), so they learned how to treat their body better - this might even have turned to some health-obsession where they’re like super strict with their daily schedule, their diet etc. It truly depends on where on the journey your s/o is. (I still do think that they have some not healthy habits - I would even go as far and say coping mechanisms where they might punish themselves in some form when they feel like a ‘failure’ - which they obviously aren’t but they just have a rather questionable perception of themselves at times.)

Emotionally, they might be someone who carries their life lessons with them wherever they go. Even when young, this person might carry life lessons from previous past lives with them (if you believe in this). Even though their past might seem a little extreme, I don’t think they are living in the past or are stuck in the past - the past experiences don’t embitter this person (I don’t think that they blame anyone from their past - they rather would blame themselves), their experiences just make them more cautious and intentional. At some point in their life, they could have some spiritual awakening in some form. Your s/o’s raison d’être (other than improving things around them) may also be to seek out truths. They either hold a large amount of responsibility in their life or their job/profession, or they just take it very seriously. Honestly, your s/o’s presence might often not be very pleasant to other people but in my opinion with the wisdom your s/o’s shares and the way they life their life it forces people to see the uncomfortable truth and to learn, to move on and to grow  - and we all know this is most often not a nice experience which might trigger consciously or unconsciously those people hence their negative attitude/reaction towards your s/o. If you ever struggle with something, I can tell you that your s/o can probably give the best advice, helping you change your perspective - it might be some hurtful truth but it is meant well on their end.

As I said before, they usually have good intentions and they have a selfless side to them. They are very generous - to themselves and others (but because of their past experience it might have been very hard to be generous to themselves for a longer period of time).  Even if they are not wealthy, this person may be generous with their time and energy. They could be a good listener or a good friend to you. They might have a more passive, receptive energy. (We all have a little bit of both energies expressed in a balanced way, regardless of which gender we identify as.) They might be the type to share their food, to donate their clothes, and they’re really never secretive with advice. I think they are also very socially aware. They are very generally ‘open’ with others; they might not appear like an open book but if you ask them something they would always answer honestly, but they also know when they should not overstep. They’re the type that enjoys the finer things in life, but they would never flaunt what they have. In this aspect, they are all about balance and surely value quality over quantity. 

They seem quite emotionally sensitive (in terms of sensing subtle things like other people’s intentions/moods) but also intimate, and laidback. They enjoy making the people that are important to them feel comfortable and at home. Again, they are generous with their money as well as their time. Whenever they can give to others, they probably will, and if not, they probably have a good reason for that. They always want to fulfill their end of the bargain. This is a friend that you surely want to keep around. Honestly, if you get to know them more, you would feel inspired by their generosity. They give from the kindness of their heart, not because they ask for anything in return. They are sincere. All they want is for you to pay it forward. If this doesn’t sound like your person at all, it could be because your person enjoys performing their acts of kindness in secret. They’re not doing it for show. They are the type of person who gives anonymously. 

Another thing is that they might enjoy traveling (more so slowly and consciously - they are rarely in a hurry). Traveling for this person is a healing experience. They focus on the journey rather than the destination. They are someone who is in the process of healing - like their whole life seems like a healing journey (from the childhood they experienced). I don’t think they are the type to dwell in the suffering tho. This person is all about moving on, healing, and entering calmer waters. This is a future-oriented person. Although they’ve gone through their fair share of challenges, they still choose to remain optimistic about what is yet to come.  They might also prefer to keep a smaller circle of trusted friends and family members (it is partly also because of the reasons we mentioned above - the struggle with being understood etc.) But they are very reliable, and you can also count on them to get whatever job done. This person is also very private, even when for example their job requires them to be in the public eye.

They are the type to make you feel just as calm and mellow as they are. If you’re romantically involved with this person, even though I mention quite a bit of their flaws and struggles, this person will move on from their past and heal, they are perfectly capable of healing - and I would even go so far and say they are destined to heal in this life they’re living. So, you don’t need to worry so much. They would not let a relationship with a person they care about become toxic or harmful. They learned that much and they would never wish this upon another person - especially upon the person they love, okay? I just felt like I had to make this clear. But going back to the ‘traveling’ part; they may even live in a different city/country from you. I don’t know what you scripted but I feel like you might communicate with each other at first from a distance (if your DR is in a modern setting, it might be over phones; if it’s in a traditional/fantasy setting, it might be through letters - I even had the imagery of small note sent by some bird idk a falcon or sth). They will be pretty easy to get along with in a long distance relationship because they enjoy having some time and space for themselves and they also truly commit when they decide on it. They have a calming and healing presence about them; but I feel like it shows more when they are with people they're close with and where they can feel at ease.

You remember how I said in the beginning that your s/o is someone unique, they truly are. Most people might not see how special and I would even say how precious they are. They might have started their life as a rough diamond not knowing their own worth but the more they live the more their worth comes to surface and the people that treated them bad in the past will come to regret their actions and behavior at some point. I feel like you will see their worth and their preciousness, you acknowledge their uniqueness and I think this beautiful (let me cry in a corner for a moment.) 

-> Possible energies in their chart : They definitely have strong air energy in some form in their chart mixed with a little earth and water. Specifically, they could have in their chart: Aquarius, Taurus/Libra, Pisces, Capricorn, Virgo,  strong Venus, Moon, Mercury and/or Saturn energy.

-> Timeless messages for you from them :

Don’t wait for me. I want you to be happy. And I don’t know how long it will take for me to be ready.

It just scares me to feel so much…

I’m feeling the consequences of my actions.

I’m sure I’m dreaming about you but I can’t seem to remember.

Things moved too fast and I didn’t know how to trust my feelings for you.

Please forgive me, I messed up.

I’m taking this seriously.

The order of these messages seem a little messed up but that’s how I received them. Based on their energy it seemed like they’re feeling apologetic towards you and are being quite hard on themselves because of what happened/will happen. Regarding the first message, they don’t want you to actively wait because it also puts pressure on them as well. They want you to make yourself happy NOW - even if it is just about putting on your favorite music and freely dancing to it. Being in that energy will help you find the right answer. Because they also want you to find out what you truly want without any pressure. They want to help you be your authentic self. The advice that I got was: Don’t wait for it, start now and make yourself happy. Miracles happen and sometimes life takes unexpected and wonderful turns. Be open and curious about what life has in store for you but do not actively wait for it to happen. I hope this advice makes sense and helps you somehow.

Thank you for letting me read your dr s/o’s energy. I only wish you both truly the best!  If you could spare some time and give a me little feedback, I would be very grateful. <3

[bloodypeachblog]

You got any daddy Sammy Headcanons?

You fucking bet I do!

Sammy Lawrence headcanons

(This is with F!Reader, btw)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

• Sometimes his personality when he was human can show when something doesn't go right or his way or he's just annoyed. He can be a real asshole when he's like that. But if he upsets you, he would apologize later.

• the instance you responded to his 'can I get an amen?' tape with an 'amen', he fell for you almost instantly. He knew that his savior has blessed him with you, you had to be his bride. He waits til you fall asleep and he carries you to his room. You're his now.

• the songs he writes for you? Oh so lovely and romantic. He even plays them on his banjo and sings them for you.

• when he likes you, he can get a bit flustered and tongue-tied at times. When you've been together for a long time, he gets a bit better with that, but his inky heart still flutters when he sees you and hears your voice.

• if you can't sleep, he would sing you a lullaby or tell you a story from his bible (he wrote one where it's basically the christian bible, but Bendy is Jesus) until you fall asleep.

• he lets you join him on his searches for sacrifices and sometimes lets you choose their fates. They'll still die, but you get to choose how they die.

• Total. Drama. Queen. But not in a way that'd make you hate him, more in the way where you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

• guy's mind is stuck in the 1920-1930's, so if you show him something like, an iPhone, or you dress in modern clothing, his brain would probably implode.

• he LOVES listening to you read passages from his bible during sermons. He just marvels your words and pays very close attention. You could see a big smile though his mask.

• the same goes vice versa, he speaks with such energy and dedication and he smiles to himself when he sees you're just so enthralled by his preaching.

• basically when he speaks about you, he's exactly how Gomez Addams talks about Morticia. He ADORES you.

• "I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss." "To think, Lord Bendy has blessed me with such a beautiful angel such as yourself." "To live without you, only that would be death." "I cannot see, I am blinded by such beauty."

• pet names: Darling, Love, Angel, my little lamb, my sweet, Dear, Dearest.

♡NSFW♡

• master of seduction. Just, pure incubus skills. His soft voice makes you melt, and he knows it.

• oh he is all for foreplay. He wants his little pet to be ready for him.

• his cock is about 6 inches and pretty thick, but that's thanks to the blessings of the ink.

• *psst!* if he wanted, he could grow two of them to double-penetrate you, but he'll immediately pass out once he cums because it takes twice the energy, so he doesn't do it often.

• he wouldn't exactly whisper dirty words, but the way he phrases things...

• "don't be afraid, it's what our Lord wishes. We wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?" "You're so wet for me, how sweet.." "I'm so blessed that you're mine.." "You're doing so well, love..." "Just relax and let us share this bliss that our Lord has blessed us with." "Perhaps Lord Bendy will bless us with little sheep of our own tonight.."

• kinks? Well...he does like tying you up nice and tight. Can't let the little lamb run off, can he? No, he cannot. He has a praise kink, where he just loves to praise you for being such a good little wife.

• he LOVES to tease you and make you beg for him. The grin and deep chuckle he lets out from hearing your begs will make you melt.

• he'll make sure you cum a few times before he does. You'll be putty in his hands when he's done with you.

• yes, he cuddles you during the afterglow. He also whispers loving words into your ear, making sure you feel loved and cherished, because you are.

[pikkish]

I'm new to the fandom, just played 2016 and Eternal in quick succession. Eternal's DLC left me really dissatisfied, but I can't really explain why or how. Based on that poll you made, it's clear you've got some Opinions on the writing, so I was hoping you would like to share them? I feel like I need someone to mull over that whole story with. You can message me privately if you wish!!

Hi there! Welcome to the Doom fandom! I hope you enjoy your stay here more than you enjoyed TAG's writing! And you're more than welcome to come yell with me about Doom and its related games any time!

You're more than correct in your assertion that I have some Opinions about modern Doom's writing, in fact, I have quite a few of them. Most of them can be summed up as "the writing is just plain bad," which is probably also the reason you're unsatisfied with it. It's inconsistent, it regularly sacrifices coherence for the sake of something that looks cool for trailer shots, it has a lot of details that very much could be interesting plots but are simply ignored after their first mention, and at least a few more things that I'm forgetting, it's been a little bit since my last playthrough of TAG and these are just the major ones off the top of my head.

Take Hayden, for example. In 2016, he's the classic egotistical, powerful CEO of a major weapons industry, who maybe didn't necessarily intend to get a ton of people killed, but now that he has, he's gonna stick to his guns and insist he's still in the right, this was an unfortunate accident, but what he's doing is necessary, for the good of humanity, can't you see? He's the good guy! He's just trying to make things better! And he's dedicated to this course well enough that he's willing to betray the man who's there to save him, and boot Doomguy back into Hell at the end of 2016.

Then you get to Eternal, and he's inexplicably changed his mind for no good reason? And it's not like he's learned his lesson and has become more humble for it; sure, he got his rear handed to him by demons, and he emphatically states that the creation of Argent Energy is an "unholy union" that "cannot continue," but at the same time, he still acts constantly like he has everything under control and heavily implies that, were he in charge, this situation wouldn't be so bad- as if he weren't in charge when it got this bad. It's like they wanted him to have the exact same attitude (and therefore, ability to deliver dramatic voicelines) as in 2016, but didn't want to commit to him being a villain, so they just went "ok! he doesn't like Argent Energy any more," and went with it, then never felt the need to explain how or why this complete shift in attitude came about. As a result, it feels like Hayden has no clear motive or goals, and falls pretty flat as a character in general.

And then, to take it into TAG, there's the Seraphim, and don't even get me started on how much I hate that that's his name, "seraphim" is the PLURAL form of "seraph," it's like how "Guy" is a real name but then if they decided to name a character "Guys" instead, and it drives me crazy-- whom they go to some lengths to confirm is, in fact, the same person as Hayden, but then, despite the fact that Samur is sick and dying from the moment you revive him, for some reason, Hayden has to turn back into Samur. I suppose there's maybe some indication that Samur and Hayden are actually different people implied by Hayden referring to the Seraphim in the third person through the beginning of the Atlantica level, but there's still never any explanation given for that, whether they are or aren't the same person, or why you need to bring Samur back in Hayden's place.

And then, you beat Samur up, and guess what? He immediately stops being relevant to the plot and is almost completely forgotten. And that's a recurring theme in modern Doom! Olivia Pierce and the Khan Maykr both share the same fate, the moment they're dead, they practically just stop existing. Sure, there's the statue of Olivia in Nekravol, and, like, a single mention of the Khan in one of TAG's codices, if I remember correctly, but personally, to me, both of those feel more like the devs giving you a wink and a nudge and saying "haha hey, remember them?" like it's more of an Easter Egg than them actually having any significance.

And then there's the whole mess that is Davoth. Admittedly, having the Divinity Machine be fueled by his power, and Doomguy being enhanced by that power is thematically appropriate, what with the whole reason Doomguy wins being that he's even angrier than Hell. I also think something like the Divinity Machine and Dooomguy becoming superhuman did have to happen eventually, because how many times can one man singlehandedly beat back the whole of Hell itself before he stops being just some guy? But I don't think it was executed very well.

For one thing, I don't think it was a good move to imply that Doomguy always was some sort of pseudo-god super entity right from the start. Sure, like I said, he did inevitably have to stop being just some guy, but him being just some guy was a good bit of the charm of classic Doom in my opinion. All we knew about him was that he loved his pet rabbit, and was more willing to punch his commanding officer in the face than follow an order to shoot civilians. And yeah, if you take that, and also assume that the story cards are Doomguy's own internal monologue or at least a representation of his attitude, then you can't really say he was ever a blank slate character, but he was still just some guy, and he was relatable for that. And going "well, actually, he was a godling from the very beginning" just doesn't feel very good in my opinion, and feels like a big retcon besides. (And we'll get to more "well, ACTUALLY" stuff in a bit, but first I wanna finish up the tangentially Davoth related stuff first.)

All that aside, if we take it at face value and say sure, Doomguy was always something a little more than human, always destined to become the ultimate warrior, rather than making himself into the Doom Slayer by surviving Hell, then there's still not really any reason for Davoth to have looked exactly like him, beyond going "you-- but EVIL!!" for the drama of it. I think there was maybe one codex entry that says Davoth's whole soul-stealing operation was for the sake of providing his own people with immortality, which is to say, he was fighting to protect his home or something to that effect, so an argument could be made that his looking like Doomguy is an attempt at exploring "this is you, gone too far, this is you if you ever let go of your morals, this is everything you risk becoming," but, again, it's mentioned like... once, in one codex, and never explored or elaborated upon further. If I remember correctly, Davoth himself never even acknowledges this, it's just the codex entry, and he just goes on about how he'll kill Doomguy and destroy everything he ever loved. If they really wanted to make him a sympathetic villain like that, then they should've actually given us the opportunity to feel that sympathy for him. Let me see the people he's trying to protect- is it an idyllic paradise, oblivious to the lengths being gone to to keep them comfortable? A broken, dying people who should have gone extinct long ago, but for this thievery of the lives of others? I know Hell is supposed to be Jekkad, corrupted, and even in theory, that's fine- you could say Davoth's become so ruthless in pursuit of this immortality for his people that he's blinded himself to how it's also destroyed that which he was attempting to save- but you can't really see that. It's still just Hell, not really any sort of remnant of something worth saving.

And speaking of that. Trying to make Davoth a sympathetic villain at all feels like a bad choice to me. Doom is about fighting demons, about carving a bloody war path through the ultimate evil of Hell itself, and about feeling viciously satisfied about doing it. Making it about a desperate man who can't accept that he failed to save what he cared about, and making about killing that man before he does any more damage in attempting to do what he's already failed to do just doesn't feel good the way the rest of Doom does. And beyond that, TAG doesn't even succeed in the emotional gut punch that would come from it, had they managed to make Davoth into an actually sympathetic villain. It's like they're trying to strike a balance between the gratuitously violent and exhiliratingly triumphant feel that Doom is known for, and an emotionally impactful story, and as a result, both end up landing somewhere between mediocre and just plain bad.

I don't have a good segue into this bit except to say it's coming back to the "well, ACTUALLY," thing I mentioned earlier, which is: there are a lot of parts that feel a lot like a six year old kid is just making up the plot on the spot, like, for example, "Doomguy LAUNCHES himself out of a CANNON and he has a MAGIC SWORD and a PET DRAGON that carries him to the MAGIC CRYSTAL in the MIDDLE of the PLANET." Granted, these ones are pretty small and relatively inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and, yeah, okay, they do look pretty cool. But they don't really... fit? Yeah, it's not like classic Doom didn't have this too, In Doom I alone, Doomguy gets pissed about not getting a reward for beating up the barons, practically just jumps off the side of Deimos, and then finally gets to go home when a secret teleporter just opens beside him after Hell decides he's "too tough" for it. But that all fits in classic Doom, because it's not trying to be a serious, grimdark story. Classic Doom is goofy, and it knows it, and it doesn't try to be anything else. But modern Doom tries so hard to be a very serious, dramatic story and also keep the sillier bits of classic Doom, and- yeah, okay, I already made this point once, but here it is again- it ultimately kinda fails at both as a result.

But then there's the bigger of these, namely VEGA. You spend the majority of both 2016 and Eternal with him as your main companion, and, as far as I can remember, there's never really anything to indicate that he's anything other than what he's introduced as, a sentient AI, created to help manage the Mars base. And then you get to the end of Eternal, and- after basically making you sacrifice him for a second time- with next to no buildup, go, "well actually, he's the god of the bad guys." And I'd complain about that plot thread also being brought up and then dropped with no further elaboration, except they do elaborate on it, and that's basically all that TAG is about. They spend the whole of TAG 1 telling you how VEGA is the god of Literally Everything, and how he made Davoth, then didn't kill him when he started to get out of hand, and aren't you MAD at him, for making all your problems, for being too merciful with his own creation that he loved, and don't you just wanna DESTROY the thing that would give him power again?

And then you get to TAG 2 and they spend the whole time going "WELL ACTUALLY it's DAVOTH who's god and VEGA STILL couldn't kill him and he's been LYING to you this ENTIRE TIME." It almost feels to me like a bad fandom interpretation to justify not liking a character, except worse because they're actually the ones who made the character and wrote the story, and I'm not entirely sure why they intentionally tried to make VEGA a helpful, likeable character, gave him a backstory that arguably makes him more sympathetic than Davoth, and then went "actually we hate him now and are gonna do everything we can to try to make you hate him too."

There are definitely more things I could bring up, like whatever the whole deal with the wraiths and the World Spear is, and probably a handful of other things I'm forgetting, too, but it's getting late and I gotta get up to go to work tomorrow. At any rate, thanks for stopping by and giving me an excuse to finally yell about these things! Feel free to stop by and chat with me about video games whenever you want, I love getting to hear other people's thoughts on these things just as much as I love getting to give my own.

[bigskydreaming]

So, been awhile! Apologies for that - took a step back from most social media sites for a few months because the accumulated stresses and everpresent urgency to most things I've been dealing with for the past five plus years finally caught up with me and I kinda just....crashed, and needed some time to get my head on straight. Or whatever the non-obvious-pun version of that might be for a Known Bisexual. Everything was getting to be too constantly 'stop and go' for me, if that makes sense.....like I'd TRY to be more present on here, TRY to work on things like my patreon and fic and meta and stuff like that because I've really wanted to get back to creating actual stuff that people enjoy instead of being like My Issues: The Latest Installment and the like, but then something else would crop up and kill my momentum before it even really got going and I'd have to duck away yet again, and rinse and repeat.

HENCE! I took a more dedicated, extended leave to try and get into a headspace and build a buffer that better lends itself to me getting back to the kinds of posting/writing conditions I've thrived under in the past. It took longer than I thought, but I've never been good at accurately estimating things lol. I've still been on twitter somewhat sporadically, since a huge part of why I hate that site is its format makes it all but impossible to really get to ranting at length...y'know, as I do, my tried and true time-suck method of procrastinating...and with everything going on in the world these days I didn't want to disconnect entirely even though I did need time to work through some shit. BUT I DIGRESS.

Point is, felt like I needed something more substantial than the optimistic-but-lacking-in-actual-energy-and-planning measures I've attempted in the past couple years in order to get on top of things and achieve a measure of consistency and stability again. Less shooting for the moon because I just WANT to be back to my older, happier/more content patterns, more....putting some actual time and thought into how I can realistically make that happen instead of just trying to will it into existence through sheer stubbornness. Because obviously, THAT always works.

ANYWAY. It'll still be a couple days before I get back to regular posting/reblogging patterns or much of any of that at all.....don't be confused if you see some blink and you miss them temporary posts from me over the next day or two. I'm testing out the formatting and layout of a bunch of posts and graphics made for my patreon and original fiction stuff, since the preview post function doesn't always work with read mores in a post and they're all gonna need that lol. If anyone's up for it, I am finalizing the price/reward tiers of my patreon and could use some thoughts on the different levels - I think I have them mostly figured out but wouldn't mind some additional perspectives on how I broke things down and if I'm missing some alternatives. Just message me directly if you'd like to weigh in or lend me your thoughts!

I've never wanted my tumblr to be all about fic or just original content or anything like that, so the patreon's meant to kinda keep all that separate beyond just generalized update announcements on here. The blog will remain just a regular multi-purpose smorgasboard of my reblogs and thoughts on other posts and meta about my various fandoms and all that jazz. The patreon discord will have spaces having to do with my various fanfics, but they'll never be exclusive to it in any way, and every fic update I make will still be on my blog same as always. I've been building masterlists of all my Dick Grayson meta and all my Teen Wolf meta, as well as headcanons and writing snippets/scenes that never got posted elsewhere because I didn't consider them full fics, and I'm starting a series of posts that lean directly into my tendencies to be an Overly Opinionated Asshole who - historically speaking - has never been, uh, shy, shall we say, about Having Thoughts about various fandom patterns or trends.

So....look out for the upcoming "Kalen Vs Fandoms" post series. What? It sounded catchy to me. First up:

"Fandoms' tendency to pick one character per fandom to have every other character introduce as the dumbest person they've ever met, but no its okay, they're actually really fond of them and universally defaulting to a judgmental or patronizing shot at their intelligence every single time they're the topic of conversation among other characters just naturally happens to be part of every single other character's love language - is this perhaps NOT as endearing or affectionate as fandoms tend to treat it as?" Aka "How many people can actually say they'd be comfortable with the idea of every single person in their family or friend group leading with "I genuinely think they're stupid but I love them anyway" each time they talk about them to someone else, and if you don't think that's a normal conversation starter for people to have about a loved one, why do so many fandoms attempt to treat it as such?"

.....the length of post title should not be taken as an indicator of how long each post is. If people want to draw their own conclusions about post length based solely on the fact that they're, well, by me.....I mean. That's totally your prerogative. Nothing I can do about that!

Post topics will run the gamut, if for no other reason than gamut is an amazing word that doesn't get used enough and I wanted to use it. From "Its totally valid to project onto characters and use fic as a way to work through various issues via that projection but how much does this have to do with how defensively people react to the slighest criticism of character choices in their fics as though personally attacked - discuss" to "Criticizing and condemning the writers of source material for specific things - to rave reviews from followers - only to then do the exact same specific things in your own fics - to rave reviews from followers - while claiming that the mere fact of being a fan not getting paid for writing those specific things somehow makes them less worthy of criticism.....are we all seeing the problem here."

There's a slight chance those titles are perhaps....somewhat unnecessarily asshole-coded, but like, in a whimsical way! I think. Whatever. I'm sure it'll be fine!

Will either rhyme OR reason be involved in the order of post topics? No. Not even a little bit. Next question.

Aside from "Kalen vs Fandoms" I've been putting a lot of thought into what other topics or content I can expound upon at length, to the possible interest of people. I'm good at writing and editing and analyzing narratives. Not claiming to be the best, just not trying to fish for compliments or anything. I think my analysis of narrative and character choices has generally been of interest in most fandoms I've been in, but when I'm IN a fandom, I do personally invest in favorite characters and stories that inevitably put me in opposition to takes from fans of other characters and stories within that fandom, and when that happens, the Horseman of Discourse inevitably follows and I....do the discourse. Look, I am who I am. I see the discourse, I engage with the discourse. Unless I don't care about the topic of discourse, in which case I don't, because that discourse doesn't matter. Obviously.

SO! In the interest of posting about narrative analysis and breakdowns of writing choices, character arcs and the like but WITHOUT engaging in The Discourse, I'll be making an easy-to-find post of fandoms or source material whose characters and narratives I'm familiar enough with TO have opinions or analysises of, but for whatever reason, the fandom has never clicked for me and I've never actually felt a desire to be part of it. Thus I'm not likely to be invested or compelled enough to follow up on anyone disagreeing with my personal thoughts or analysis or various character arcs or narratives, because its literally just like, my opinion man, presented for no other purpose than to potentially be of interest to anyone who might be interested in it. No actual follow up needed on my part because I'm not particularly chuffed if people have different takes, they're totally valid, mine don't exist for the purpose of being defended there, they just exist because Opinions, I Had Them, Here Look. Or Don't. Its Totally Whatever.

Because I don't feel as strongly about these pieces of media as I do fandoms I'm personally invested in, it is trickier to come up with a comprehensive list of ones I can weigh in on. So please feel free to hit up my inbox with any fandoms, narrative or character arcs you're curious about my take on, and I'll let you know if they're fandoms I consider myself a participant in, and thus not really right for this series, or if they're something I'm just not knowledgeable about.....but if they're not an actual fandom of mine and I AM familiar enough with them to have an analytical take or response, I'll add them to the masterlist/post as a potential topic.

This series will be called and tagged "Kalen Vs Writing Choices" (That I Personally Don't Like Or Think Could Be Better). The parenthetical part is there solely to be a disclaimer clarifying that my ego is not so great that I think that My Subjective Take on the writing choices made or not made is the only one that matters. I mean, I don't intend to include the disclaimer as part of the actual tag and will mostly leave it as y'know, like, something IMPLIED, but the disclaimer still exists and thus counts. That's totally how that works.

And that's how I've chosen to awkwardly segue into the final intended-of-three post series.....Dramatically Abrupt Tonal Shift Ahoy!

This next part will get long, but I would truly appreciate it if you gave it a read despite its length and even if - especially if - the next topic isn't one you typically look for my take on, or even avoid my take on, because I don't think I'm likely to ever express my thoughts on this matter any more genuinely or directly than this. Like I'm not trying to guilt anyone or anything like that, its more I'm just trying to say if you ever read ANY single post of mine when it comes to the next topic or pick a post to base your decision on whether or not TO wade into something I have to say on this subject, I would appreciate it if you made that this next part here, as I think it best conveys where I'm coming from when it comes to most any post I make along these lines.

So. The thing is....most people who've followed me long know that in the past I've frequently been extremely vocal on topics of rape, incest and abuse, specifically through the lens of being a male survivor. These absolutely are personal for me. This has led to me having a lot of Overly Opinionated Takes on these topics and how they're talked about, depicted and treated within fandom conversations, fics, and social media spheres and conversations at large. I've also pretty obviously not posted on these topics nearly as much in recent years as I once did - but not because I feel any less strongly about them.

And that's one hundred percent because it's frustrating as hell to see a very good portion of the posts I make about any OTHER topic in my usual fandoms go on to accumulate hundreds of notes....while NONE of my posts on these topics ever break out of my direct circle of mutuals. I don't say it to be egotistical - look how many notes I get on stuff - I say it because its literally objectively factual, and the disparity is dramatic, and the disparity is a PROBLEM. Especially given how much the topics of male rape and abuse - in SPECIFIC - tend to be, within most of my past fandoms.

This disparity has a very clear reason for existing too: people have never been shy about citing that they refrain from reblogging or referencing my posts on these topics because they feel like I act like I'm the only opinion that matters on them, the sole authority to be listened to here, that I use my status as a male rape survivor as a cudgel, to shut down opposing takes or points of view.

Which I would totally be fine with or understand if not for the fact that I've always gone out of my way to express that I don't want or expect my opinions on these matters to be taken as anything other than my personal opinions born of my personal experiences, which I cite because they're relevant. I don't think that survivors should have to disclose their status or personal history or details in order to have their opinion heard on these topics, but I deeply resent how often survivors making the choice TO disclose their personal history or relationship with these topics in order to directly unpack how that informs our perspective....is weaponized AGAINST us, in order to shut down and discredit OUR takes even while literally accusing us of only disclosing in order to do the exact same thing to others.

Something that I've posted about a LOT in the hopes of getting it spread throughout fandoms that regularly talk about male rape is for literal decades I've seen people harp on about how men can be raped too, believe male survivors, don't believe the myth that men can't be raped, etc. Which like, I appreciate the sentiment, but the thing I've tried to express for years is that in my personal experience, and those of a lot of other male survivors I've talked to - this is not really the biggest or even ONE of the biggest issues most male survivors face.

And the fact that for all that there are many survivors in fandom who have made the difficult choice to be open about their traumas and recoveries - which I ALWAYS respect, as that is never easy for any of us - a huge part of why I've always made a point to disclose my own history as a male survivor is because there just flat out aren't a lot of perspectives from MALE survivors in specific, being circulated in pretty much any of the fandom spaces I've ever been in over the past twenty years. I don't even slightly think I'm any more of an expert or authority on topics of rape or abuse - beyond how they pertain to my own personal experiences - than any other survivor. But as long as the topic of MALE rape and abuse in specific, how men are affected by these things, how society reacts to us and treats us in the aftermath....as long as these are the topics explicitly being discussed.....I do think my perspective as a male survivor is pretty fucking relevant, and admittedly, I tend to get pretty heated about pushing BACK against attempts to invalidate it or shout it down as though I somehow have LESS of a stake in or right to be heard in these particular conversations. And I get how this has at times come across as attempting to dominate a given conversation.

But like.....I'm also going to point back up to the part where I said earlier....I'm an Overly Opinionated Asshole. I say it somewhat deprecatingly, for the lulz, but also not. I'm very passionate about conversations and topics I feel strongly about and I don't make apologies for it. And for the most part....this has NEVER stopped people from reblogging or liking posts I make about pretty much any other topic....despite me not really coming across that differently in most of them, compared to how I come across in most of my past posts on topics of rape and abuse.

See....I'm in complete agreement with everyone who emphasizes that rape isn't a gendered issue. That it can and does happen to individuals of any gender or identity. But the reason why I've always found the focus on 'remember that men can be raped too' more performative than helpful is because for almost twenty years, I've been posting on these topics in various fandom spaces and trying to express that in my personal experience, something that REALLY deserves to be talked about more is the fact that rape is not gendered. But rape CULTURE very much IS.

Like it or not, we live in a very gendered society still. While yes, men can be raped too.....for a number of reasons - most of them born of sexism and misogyny in specific - the conditions, catalysts and reasons for men being raped are NOT interchangeable with those at work in instances of women being raped, as an example. Because the way society treats men and women in pretty much EVERY situation is different. Similarly, the way society REACTS to men and women disclosing they've been raped is different. And so on and so on.

So 'remember that men can be raped too' has some basis in societal claims that men can't be raped or that rape IS a gendered issue....but not as much as I think most people tend to believe. And twenty years after I first started searching out perspectives of other male survivors in online fandom spaces, beyond just real world physical support groups, I'm STILL hearing 'remember that men can be raped too' dominating all conversations about male survivors just as regularly and repetitiously as it was twenty years ago....as though the world has not changed at all, and the needle on this particular facet of male survivorhood hasn't changed an inch in the past two decades when no, actually, it very much has.

The reason why I feel so strongly about offering up my perspective as a male survivor in a relative absence of seeing other male survivors' perspectives circulated is I honestly believe the reason this is so consistently upheld as the biggest problem facing male survivors is its a carry-over from women attempting to be heard and believed when disclosing....which makes sense and is completely understandable....as long as there's a complete absence of male survivors offering up any perspective that's to the contrary.

But the fact that we live in a gendered society where rape culture, not rape itself, still very much IS gendered due to being a product of....living in a gendered society....means that the differences in how society treats and reacts to men and women affects every aspect of how society treats and reacts to men and women survivors. And that starts with disclosure itself. In my personal experience - and fully acknowledging that I don't speak for any other male survivor in this moment, and I absolutely do believe there are those who have experiences to the contrary, and that matters too - MY experience, which also matters, is that not once in the twenty years since I've started disclosing about my own rape, or the csa I experienced as a child - have I actually had an issue being believed.

With full acknowledgment of how unfair it is, how gross, the reality of living in a sexist, patriarchal society where male privilege very much exists, is that while men can be raped too, this traumatic thing that happened to us does not in any way actually invalidate or negate our male privilege. It doesn't turn it off for the duration of our experience or any time its relevant to our experiences going forward. We carry that privilege with us through our recoveries and the rest of our lives just as much as we did before it, because its an inalienable result of being in a society that allocates privilege solely on the basis of being born a man who identifies and presents as a cis man (with respect to trans individuals having another axis of experience that very much differentiates all matters pertaining to rape culture, in comparison to cis men, just as much as in the case of cis women, albeit in different ways).

And the gross unfortunate reality of our society is that it ALWAYS prioritizes believing men over women, in all matters......especially cis white men like myself.

So the simple fact is....even the act of disclosure - and the likelihood of being believed when voluntarily choosing to share the information that we've been raped - means that a cis white man like myself does not receive the same reaction as most women receive when attempting to share that same information. Society preconditions a lot of people to be more receptive to taking cis white men at their word, comparative to affording anyone else that basic respect.

Getting people to believe me when I say I was raped has never been the issue for me that other individuals face.

But that doesn't mean that my disclosure doesn't result in issues for me.

Because while being raped never invalidated or negated any of my cis white male privilege, neither did having cis white male privilege negate the possibility of me being raped - OR the fact that society ALSO preconditions people to be really fucking shitty about survivors.

(Hell, ANY kind of living victim....with this also being very relevant to abuse survivors, survivors of physical assault, etc. Much like people can be overflowing with empathy for unborn children who can't offer up any take to the contrary to whatever people want to say "in defense or support of unborn children," only to turn around and cease caring about most of those babies the second they're born, people tend to be just as overflowing with empathy for deceased victims of abuse, rape, assault and the like....who, y'know, also can't offer up any take to the contrary of whatever they say or claim about what they WOULD want, what they DO deserve, etc. Present those same people with a living child or a living victim who can and DOES have an opinion that doesn't match what those people feel it SHOULD be? Watch attitudes shift VERY quickly, as allllll that empathy hurriedly flushes down the drain as though it was never there).

But the point is, my cis white male privilege is always here regardless. But that doesn't mean rape culture isn't shitty enough that it can't find a way to circumvent even that in pursuit of discrediting/invalidating/ignoring survivors, just like that privilege can be circumvented in order to create the situation where a man is raped in the first place.

Its just....the gendered nature of rape culture means HOW those attempts to discredit/invalidate/ignore male survivors manifests.....doesn't look the same as when it leads to just outright disbelieving other survivors when they attempt to disclose.

And that is how I can be listened to and reblogged on most any other topic, no matter HOW I go about presenting myself in those posts or conversations - ironically in no small part BECAUSE of my cis white male privilege - while only getting crickets when I post on these topics, BECAUSE people only choose THOSE posts to make my presentation or level of intensity a dealbreaker, and thus their very reason for ignoring anything I have to say there. Not because they don't believe me, but because the WAY I say it is too aggressive, too biased, too emotional, too intense....its an attack on their autonomy, an attempt to override whatever they previously thought or believed about the subject and just force them to adhere to my take.

Because the thing about living in a sexist, patriarchal society is.....that IS a thing that cis white men often do, and a lot of society is structured to make it easier for us to achieve this in most instances, frankly. This just happens to be a rare exception, because for a lot of reasons that would make this post even longer - and that again, I've often posted about before - upholding and reinforcing rape culture on a society wide level supersedes the usual focus on accommodating INDIVIDUAL cis white men in having their opinions heard and circulated.

I'm trying to be as frank as possible here about the intersection of privilege and experiences of being a male survivor because I don't believe its to anyone's benefit to be disingenuous about it, and I do think that it doesn't actually supplant the fact that male survivors do have just as much right - and NEED - to be heard and listened to about our experiences with rape and perspective there, and have those ACKNOWLEDGED, as anyone else.

Its just....the existence of privilege and how that differentiates most experiences in a gendered society matters, and thus.....it needs to be part of the conversation rather than just treating all responses to rape and survivors as agendered, just because rape itself can and does happen to people of all genders.

There's actually a fair amount to get into when it comes to differences in a lot of mens' disclosures vs womens' in my experience, but just as an extension of what I'm talking about here, one of the specific elements in my experience is that men often don't have a problem being believed about having been raped or abused.....but one of the predominant responses is society is heavily preconditioned to view male rape and abuse survivors as almost inevitably feeling they need to exert a similar power over someone else in order to claim back their own feelings of pride and safety in their masculinity. Effectively.....most every male rape or abuse survivor I've ever talked with at length shares a similar experience of being believed when they disclose about being a survivor....but noting a clear and direct shift in how whomever they disclosed to interacts with them....with EVERY expression of anger or outrage - particularly in the matter of their rape or abuse - being viewed as evidence of us being ticking time bombs who are inevitably primed to explode and take out what happened to us on someone else.

There's being cautious around cis white men, for example, because we're cis white men, which I totally get and am not expressing an opinion on. I'm just saying even with that acknowledged, there is a SHIFT in how people interact with me after I've disclosed to them personally, in how they....scrutinize me, for lack of a better way of putting it, in very noticeable ways and areas. Like its consistent. And think about how its not totally true that media doesn't portray men as being capable of being raped or abused, typically. Think about how often you've seen procedurals where the backstory of the rapist or abuser of the week is specifically THAT they were a rape or abuse survivor themselves, usually in childhood. Its NOT that society doesn't believe or accept that men can be raped too. Its that society is primed to default to viewing the very act of men being raped as an indicator of the shift from them being a man to being a man who is likely to become a predator themselves.

Rape appears all the time in regards to male survivors in media. Its just it usually just appears in the context of men who arent presented AS survivors, but rather as predators or aggressors themselves, and their past victimization treated as a catalyst rather than a trauma. This is not to excuse any such character or depiction of course, its simply to emphasize that the very angle from which male survivorhood is approached in most contexts is different from that of other survivors. Just like the angle from which their survivorhood is approached is different from that of male survivors. And thus the issue most men have with disclosing in my experience is NOT that we're afraid we won't be believed....its that we're afraid once we disclose, we'll be viewed as inherently more dangerous because our victimization primes us to be that much more likely to inflict ourselves on others in some attempt to reclaim our masculinity.

And its categorically NOT about any group of survivors having it better or worse than others, which is why I LOATHE people saying variations of 'you wouldn't say that about this if it happened to a woman' because anyone attempting to pit male survivors against other survivors en masse is NOT doing so for my benefit or with my endorsement. The point is just that each way society and rape culture interacts with a different group of survivors presents different problems and issues that need addressing, and aren't interchangeable.

There is a REASON why the subject of Dick Grayson's anger - usually in the context of things that have happened to him - is so important to me, specifically in terms of ensuring that its treated as something he's allowed to have....rather than an indicator that he's going to messily explode his life in a way that impacts everyone around him negatively.

Now.....if you've never considered that aspect of rape vs rape culture and how it can differently affect and shape the experiences and recovery of cis male survivors versus trans male survivors and nonbinary survivors and survivors who identify as women.....I ask that you consider what else my perspective might be able to add to actually productive, meaningful conversations about rape, rape culture and survivorhood, that you never would have thought TO think about before, without male survivors bringing it up based on it having played a role in personal experiences.

And then I just ask that you please think about the implications of someone known for being a vocal presence in certain fandoms, with a fairly sizable number of posts widely circulating throughout them......never having posts about male rape and survivorhood circulated to any noticeable degree, despite writing DOZENS of them, in all kinds of different moods, ways and intensity levels.....and all of them while active in fandoms where male rape is regularly discussed or focused on due to certain characters or storylines......and ask yourselves if it maybe seems a little off for the disparity to be THAT large. Again: I have written DOZENS of posts on this topic. All with less than twenty notes. I'll be composing a masterlist of them in the near future as well, but for now I'm just saying. Please just think about that.

While I'm going to make an effort to be more deliberate in how I approach this topic in posts going forward, tonally and in terms of word choice, I do have a right to be just as passionate about it as any other topic, and it is FUCKED UP to think that my personal experiences here should be pointed to as the very REASON I should need to be LESS passionate than I am anywhere else, in order to be heard or listened to. Still. I am not actually trying to override anyone else's viewpoint, present myself as some kind of ultimate authority, or shut down other survivors in any way....I'm just trying to uphold the relevancy and importance of adding my own perspective to the conversation.

I don't want to be the only voice listened to here. But as long as my voice is relevant, and I don't see or hear a lot of other voices speaking from a similar standpoint, I would like to be a RESOURCE on topics of male survivorhood, rape and recovery, from that particular standpoint. And even if and when other male survivors might perchance add their own perspectives with experiences and takes contrary to mine....I welcome that! Because mine is not the only one, cis white male survivors are no more a monolith than anyone else, and none of that will in any way actually invalidate my own perspective or experiences or render them no longer relevant at all.

Being a resource on a topic that has always been everpresent in most fandoms I've gravitated to - which has often been a reason FOR me gravitating to those fandoms in specific.....that has always been my ONLY goal with these kinds of posts. NOT an authority.

So, having my posts - which for all my willingness to write them, has never been easy for me and probably never will - reframed in such a negative way, dismissed and even weaponized against me - has over the years demoralized me and made it harder to find the energy TO tackle these topics, as much as I'd like to. But I do feel that I've found a second wind when it comes to this and think I'm ready to wade back into being Overly Opinionated on these topics as well.

So that's the third of the three post series I'll be starting, "Kalen vs Topics of Rape, Rape Culture and Survivorhood As Perceived Through A Singular Personalized Cis White Male Lens, Presented By (and With) My Middle Finger At Any Attempts to Subvert Or Undermine My Thoughts On Them By Reframing Them As Me Trying To Gatekeep Male Survivorhood No Matter How Many Times I Use The Words IN MY EXPERIENCE or IN MY OPINION, Which I Do A Lot, Because This Has Been Happening For A Very Long Time, And I Am Tired, But Still Very Opinionated, And Still Very Here, So Bite Me I Guess."

.....I'm still workshopping that one's title. Its a process.

ANYWAY. At the moment, I'm aiming to make one post of each once a month, and if I do more than that great, but not trying to pressure myself to do any more than that at the moment in the interests of Realism. We'll play it by ear. If I have more free time or energy than expected, maybe I'll do more. Its not like I have a shortage of Very Opinionated Opinions, after all. You've met me.

BUT I DIGRESS.

So in the interest of not making this long ass post any fucking longer, not that anyone really expected otherwise from my first post back in months, like could I REALLY even claim to ACTUALLY be back if all I had to show for it was some weak little lackluster drabble that wasn't even 3,000 words? Methinks the fuck not -

Well, have an abrupt and anticlimactic finish that comes out of nowhere despite giving myself literally 4,900 words to build to something appropriately profound or meaningful or whatthefuckever. Y'know. Your standard Kalen Classic. The abrupt and anticlimactic wrap up I mean, not the profound and deeply meaningful one. Eh. You get it.

Did ya miss me? I missed you!

PS - I was Informed that we are almost to the end of Tommy T's Tenure, is it almost safe to come back to Nightwing comics? Does anyone know when his last issue is? Have we planned the party yet? Who's on balloons, we definitely need balloons.