#you still feel the need to speak over black people because you don't know how to stop being an entitled ass and just shut up for one second

[calzone-d]

Loud (poly!wintersentry x reader)

-warnings: yelling, angst w/ a happy ending, bob gets scared, crying, mentions of past abuse

-word count: +/- 1800

definitely a little angsty but there will always be a happy ending on this blog, don't fear!! i'm so soft for the two of them.

requests are OPEN as of right now. let me know if you want to be added to my general taglist, or just for wintersentry stuff. shoot me a message, comment, send an ask, sent an encrypted morse code message, write it on a brick, whatever u want. this is barely beta’d just a forewarning.

MCU masterlist here.

---

The sound of bucky’s footsteps behind yours has never been more irritating. your deep sigh makes it known as you open the door to your shared apartment in the watchtower.

“I just don’t understand!”, Bucky says. “Why didn’t you tell me Val asked you to talk to Sam?”

His brows are furrowed as his eyes meet yours. You toss your keys on the kitchen counter, which gets Bob’s attention from where he’s reading in the living room.

“Because Bucky! We were all busy with our weekend trip! I knew I wasn’t going to talk to him about it anyway, so it just slipped my mind!”

you throw your hands in the air before rubbing them across your face.

Bucky crosses his arms as his eyes narrow. The two of you are so tense you don’t pick up on Bob who’s now in the corner of the kitchen. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, criss cross in the chair.

Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“i mean, shit, y/n. I feel like that’s something i should fucking know about!” he raises his voice.

deep down, you know it’s just because him and sam are tense right now. still, that’s not a reason for him to be an ass to you.

��stop acting like i didn’t tell you on purpose! when the fuck have i ever deliberately withheld information from you?” your jaw is clenched by now.

bucky’s flesh hand slams down on the granite countertop, and it’s loud. it makes bob flinch, but the two of you are too worked up to notice.

“maybe because you were going to talk to him about the new name and didn’t want me involved!”

he’s full on yelling at this point. his cheeks are flushed as his eyes stare into yours. before you speak, bob stammers “uh.. guys, can- can you not-“

in the heat of the moment, you don’t register his quiet plea. you know how tense he gets when people argue in front of him, especially the two people he cares for most.

“for fucks sake, bucky. get over yourself!” you yell. “you need to talk to sam and work through whatever pissing contest the two of you are in. stop acting like what val asked me to do is the reason the two of you are on the rocks!”

your breathing is heavy and you take a deep breath before bucky’s voice is echoing through the kitchen.

“you don’t get it!” a black and gold vibranium finger points in your direction. bucky's eyes are wide with anger. “he-“

“please… just stop.. stop!” bob interrupts with a whimper. the two of you look over to where he’s now curled in on himself on the wooden kitchen chair. the shakiness of his hands is obvious when they push their way through his curls. with glassy eyes and a quivering bottom lip, he continues.

“guys- please. st-stop... s'too loud” it’s easy to hear how tight his throat is as he pleads.

“shit”, you mutter. by the time you get to the chair bob is in, your shoulders are sagging and your frown has gotten deeper.

bobs eyes are frantic as they go back and fourth between you and bucky, as if he’s making sure neither of you are a threat to him. the two of you learned early on how deeply he associates yelling with physical violence.

his fearful eyes are full of tears when they lock with yours, and you softly speak.

“m’sorry, hun. i shouldn’t have yelled.”, you take note of how he’s gripping the table so hard, you won’t be surprised if it breaks under the pressure. "i was just frustrated with buck, but still, I shouldn't have raised my voice".

bucky has made his way over, too. bob's eyes screw shut and he begins to ramble.

“i- i didn’t.. im sorry, it just scares me when- when you guys yell like that.” his voice cracks. you know bob, and you know that he must be trying so hard not to break down in this moment. bucky's hand brushes your lower back, a silent apology, before he kneels down in front of where bob's sitting.

the stubble on bucky's jaw catches the light when it clenches, and you know he's working through his own load of emotions in his head. he's sorry for yelling at you instead of just talking, he's anxious about his relationship with sam, but above all he's guilty for upsetting bob. his heart cracks as he thinks back to bob's room in the attic. one of his strong hands moves to rest on the side of bob's calf over his sweatpants, slowly, as to give him warning. his thumb strokes over the muscle.

frantic eyes shoot down at the contact, but he doesn't move an inch.

"bob, I am so, so sorry." bucky swallows. "I should've just spoken to y/n before raising my voice", his eyes glance up to lock with yours. "y/n, angel, I'm sorry for getting so heated."

you let out a breath you didn't know was trapped in your chest. bucky's once raging eyes are now full of regret and the need to make things right with his two loves.

"s'okay, buck.", your fingers dip down to his head and brush through his hair. it's grown out, now. the waves prominent after his shower earlier this morning.

a wet sniffle brings your attention back to bob. his slender fingers are twisted into the soft material of his sweater. well, your sweater, before it was scouted by bob for his growing collection. his thumb and index finger repetitively skip over each other as he wills the constriction of his throat to dissipate.

"just scared me.." his voice is small. for a split second, he feels like the frightened boy in the attic, but the thought slips away at the feeling of bucky's thumb stroking his leg. silently, he welcomes your tender hand on his shoulder. you pull his upper half into your torso.

bob's occupied hands leave their safe haven of sweater sleeves to make a new home in your thick sweatshirt. the scent of your shared suite floods his nose and works to calm his restless mind. your other hand brushes back his curls before resting against the nape of his neck.

his forehead falls forward and rests against your belly. a handful of whimpers leave bobs lips and then a heartbreaking, broken sob.

"we never meant to scare you, lovey."

"not for a split second, bob.", bucky sighs and stands up.

"can i hold you, sweets?" his voice is patient.

bob nods into your belly. bucky's arms wrap around his waist and his creased forehead rests against bob's shoulder.

"you're okay." his voice is low but soothing in bob's ear. "you're safe, always safe with us... our sweet love..."

you run a hand through bucky's hair too. his weight against bob presses him even more against you. bob's sobs eventually turn into quiet cries.

reaching behind you, you drag the chair beside you flush against the one bob is sitting in. his tear soaked face moves from your belly to the tender skin of your neck.

your eyes lock with bucky's, both filled with guilt. your hands cradle bob's head close, and bucky presses himself further against bob's back. one of bob's hand's shifts behind him to grab the fabric of bucky's shorts.

bob's cries have changed from those of fear to those of sadness. sadness for his younger self for having to survive that, because god knows there was a period of time he would've been happy to depart that gloomy world he was trapped in.

after a few minutes, a pitiful "m'sorry" takes you by surprise.

"bob, we're sorry. we should've acted more like adults.. in a way that actually reflected this relationship."

"i try to- to just be normal. to not let.. silly things like this affect me. i try so hard" his voice cracks, almost like a plea.

"it- what you went through was awful, bob. it's okay that it affects you, even if it affects you forever. we're here, we love you, and we're sorry if we made you feel, even for just a second, that this house is anything like the one you survived", bucky's words shock you. not the validity of their truth, but in their weight. bucky is typically one for meaningful glances and reassuring touches, not profound monologues.

bucky's lips press against the back of bob's neck. "we will spend every single second, until our very last second, proving that to you. our touch will be forever filled with love and promise, no matter how upset we get, bob. we love you. i love you. i love you so much more than you've been conditioned to comprehend. i will spend every fucking second showing you how to understand that."

his words have your throat a bit tight, too. bob's tears have stopped flowing, he's too preoccupied with remembering how to breathe as bucky vows his dedication.

you clear your throat, willing your voice to be clear. "no more yelling".

both your boys' blue eyes meet yours.

"we call time-outs from now on. we stop and go walk, or shower, or.. or anything. anything but yelling."

bob whispers, "I'd like that.." his fingers wipe away the remnants of his tears that lay atop his thick lashes. "a lot", he adds. he sits up fully, and turns to where he can see bucky better.

"thank you, bucky. for- for loving me. a-and showing me it's safe here, with the two of you. it's... i've never been happier. i've never had anything like this, like us." he twists to look at you for a second, you nod with encouragement. vulnerability is somehow so nerve wracking for bob, although it's all he's known for as long as he can remember.

"don't thank me for that", bucky's voice is stern. "it's the easiest thing i've done, loving the two of you".

a smile creeps onto bob's flushed face.

"i love the two of you more than... anything. i don't even know how to describe it.", he whispers.

bucky leans towards your curly-headed boyfriend and presses his lips against his. a giant hand rests against bob's cheek, his thumb tracing a sharp cheekbone. the kiss is slow and you can feel the love pouring from it. a happy sigh leaves bob's lips as he gives all control to bucky. when he's finally proved his point, he pulls away and presses a quick kiss to the slope of bob's nose.

"we've got you sweets. always."

bob turns to you, hands reaching out to pull you closer.

"love you, y/n." he murmurs. your lips meet his in a love filled kiss, just like the one he shared with bucky.

"m'always gonna love you, honey. always gonna take care of you", you promise when you pull away. you push up on your knees to lean towards bucky, who's watching the two of you with a soft smile.

"I'm sorry for yelling, babe."

"me too, angel"

he pulls you in with the same gentle hands that previously cupped bob's cheeks.

"no more yelling", he says. you know without question that it's a sacred promise now.

---

i love them :,)

[hilacopter]

leftists about other minorities: "just because you don't actively hate a minority doesn't mean you're immune to being bigoted, there's always internal biases to unpack."

leftists about jews: "whaaat?! how could I possibly be antisemitc??? I don't hate jews! I'm anti-bigotry! I'm a Good Person!"

leftists about other minorities: "always listen to minorities when they say something is bigoted."

leftists about jews: "don't listen to anyone telling you you're being antisemitc, israel and (((the zionists))) are weaponizing antisemitism to shut down criticism!"

leftist about other minorities: "of course bigotry against a minority should be defined by the people of said minority and it's important not to talk over them."

leftists about jews: "actually it's not antisemitic to say (conspiracy theory)/(blatant dogwhistle)/(repackaged blood libel)!! don't let any Bad Jews™ tell you otherwise!!"

leftists about other minorities: "no, having friends or family from a minority doesn't make you not bigoted. that's literally the oldest excuse in the book."

leftists about jews: "and before anyone starts throwing accusations no I'm not antisemitc, I know many (like 3) jewish people and they're some of my closest friends (I see them at the grocery store sometimes)."

leftists about other minorities: "obviously no people are a monolith, and a person from a minority can still be bigoted or have internal biases towards said minority. it's important to consider who you're speaking with."

leftists about jews: "so obviously since all jews are born with every single piece of jewish knowledge ever I can totally use this very convenient culturally christian ethnic jew as a token for my argument against a person who was raised culturally jewish and knows extensive jewish history."

leftists about other minorities: "we shouldn't center ourselves in historical events of other minorities."

leftists about jews: "I would've been a brave hero who hid jews during the holocaust, which was actually about queer and disabled people because why do the jews get to hog it all to themselves?!"

leftists about other minorities: "it's cultural appropriation to use this word belonging to a minority, you're robbing it of it's history and meaning."

leftists about jews: "(uses zionism incorrectly) (uses zionism incorrectly) (uses zionism incorrec"

leftist about other minorities: "skin color doesn't define ethnicity! there are plenty of white-passing black people, brown people and more!"

leftists about jews: "jews are literally just white people. all the jews I know irl are ashkenazi and light-skinned, what other proof do I need?"

and these are just a few of the double standards I've noticed. feel free to add.

[parfaitblogs]

i knew it, i know you ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend comes to find you amidst radio silence, and you finally let out all your frustrations and insecurities. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst tags:��ambiguous ending. certified overthinker reader. effie trinket would hate you for what you do to mahogany. argument. they yell at each other. everyone is angry n mean. :(. word count: 3k a/n: me when fine shyt starts flirting but i've already convinced myself everything he says is a genius manipulation technique that i need to outsmart before he adds me to his list of gullible weak victims. this was a vent piece from like 3 weeks ago. still relevant. love u.

You'd be a very successful magician. Vendors and patrons would move Earth just to see your disappearing act in person, to see if it's as brilliant and mind boggling as people say it is. If you were as talented as rumours say.

You'd say so.

A flickering lamp illuminates mahogany. Mahogany you hadn't cleaned in weeks. Mahogany you hadn't sat at in weeks. A thin layer of dust tells the story of how it sat untouched. Neglected. It's wondering of when you were coming home. If you were. If you'd ever swipe a rag over it again, lay down a tablecloth, set it with silverware you only have one set of. 

You would. You would. You promised you would. You placed a hand on it when you left that odd Thursday and whispered you'd return eventually. A silent deal with yourself you'd never get rid of it. Spoken aloud when you inherited it from grandparents now deceased. Then, swept up in an ill fated fairytale that kept you from coming back to it. Another table, not quite as nice, not nearly as expensive, discovered the lines of your palms amidst debate. The edge of your elbows to hold up forkfuls of food. Your thighs, pressed up against the sides. Attention given to something cheaper, and the dust sprites atop this table taunt you for it. 

You're not staring at it, though. Transfixed, instead, on how the lamp barely provides light for the rest of the apartment. Cautioning on the side of blowing any second now. You'd be thrust into darkness so fast you wouldn't know how to react. Maybe you'd stumble around a bit; try to find your phone for a light. Maybe you'd sit in the black. Let the air still, seeping into your bones until you are as good as air that does nothing. Perhaps you already are. 

You don't get the chance. 

Somebody's fist raps against your front door. You know who. It's politely quiet, but eagerly fast. Seeking you out quickly after seven damp days of radio silence, to find if you've died or not. 

You should be hastier. A soon to follow knock announces that for you. Yet, you're a soul on the ceiling, watching an uninhabited sack of skin walk towards the banging fist, turn the door handle, and let an uncomfortable flood of light into the apartment. 

He must recognise the hollowness in your eyes, because he doesn't say anything as he enters your apartment. A quip about how you didn't invite him in manifests on your tongue, but then you remember he doesn't know there's a problem between you two. 

"What a joyous apartment you have," he says, flicking the light switch to light up the rest of your neglected apartment. The last book you were reading found on the edge of your couch, face down and open, the spine creased beyond repair. A glass once full of water now sits empty — evaporated — on the kitchen counter. A duffel bag of two people's mixed clothes and travel sized shower products on the floor next to your feet. 

"What're you doing here?" you ask him, feet firmly planted in the entryway. You couldn't move even if you wanted to. 

He does, though. He freely moves around and it's as if no time has passed. He is more at home in your apartment than you have been all week. Guiltily, you feel resent well in your stomach. How dare he come in and act as though nothing has happened?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know. You repeat the mantra until he speaks again, for it is not his fault you are upset over something you made up in your head. A narrative only the worst parts of your brain can entertain. 

"Well, you disappeared for a week," he states, palms pressed against your kitchen bench as he leans against it. "I got worried."

"Why?"

What a stupid, stupid question to ask him. 

"Because you disappeared for a week," his words come out tantalisingly slowly, as if he's trying to explain to a toddler. Perhaps he is. As old as you are, you seem to feel like the five year old who resides inside you more often than not. Pathetic sentiment. 

"Forgive me for not being a constant presence in your life," you say. It isn't meant to bite, but your tone of voice comes out too sharp for it to not, and he is all too quick to catch it. 

"Sorry?" 

You freeze. Time stands as still as it has all week. The light bulb of your desired lamp blows, and you distantly hear it pop. It no longer matters; your overhead lights are on, courtesy of the man standing before you. You feel plunged into the dark anyways. 

"I didn't mean that. Sorry," you deflect, and a smile that doesn't reach your eyes is sent his way. Not that you look at him. Too afraid of what his eyes will say to yours if you lock them together, you keep your gaze on your couch. 

"Yes you did."

Well, fuck, Spencer. Guess you know everything there is to know about everything. 

You accept the defeat. "Yes I did."

"Explain, please?"

Wordlessly, you shake your head, and the inside of your cheek finds its way between teeth. "It's mean."

"Then be mean."

"No. I—I can't," you shake your head. "It doesn't really matter."

His lips press together, and you can feel the nausea in your stomach churn. "It doesn't matter?"

Your head shakes again, "Mm-mm."

"Well, great. You've got an issue with me that causes you to disappear for a week, but it's all good because it doesn't matter?"

Oh.

"I don't have an issue with you," you lie, but God forbid you do such a thing in front of a profiler. 

"You do. Clearly, or else you wouldn't be this hostile with me. What have I done?" he's gotten off the kitchen bench. He's closer to you. Or, maybe, he's just risen his voice, and he hasn't moved an inch. 

You're entirely not present enough to figure out which it is. 

"Spencer, you haven't done anything. It's all stuff inside my head," you shake your head, again, and it's done so violently you can feel the contents of your brain shake within your skull.

No you can't. No you can't. You're imagining that to worsen your own feelings. Nobody can feel that. Everything inside of it is so loud, and Spencer is no longer Spencer. Rather, a lifeless, faceless entity occupying your apartment. You don't even recognise him. 

"Then tell me what's inside your head, honey, please—"

He doesn't even sound like Spencer anymore. 

"—It's so mean. I can't."

You don't sound like you.

"Then be mean!"

"You're exhausting to be around!" 

You snap, and he falls silent. For once, he doesn't have something to respond with. You're grateful, somewhere inside of you. The same place the urge to backtrack and try to make things alright again comes from. You're usually ruled by that place. 

Today, you are not. 

"You are so exhausting to know. I am so fucking exhausted. I spend my life jumping through hoops to get you to talk to me, to notice me. I mean, you only care when I'm doing exactly what you want. Naked. You only care when it's convenient. When there is nobody else there to satisfy you, nobody you actually want, you will call for me. Right? You have to fill the hole in your heart somehow. Your stupid, incessant need to have somebody there at all times. Why can't you sit with yourself? Alone? You grew up alone, right?" 

It's such a mean thing to say. For a second, you're outside your ablaze mind, and instead watching you say all these awful things to the man you claim to love. Love. How could you possibly love anyone you speak to like this? "You've been alone before. You can't be alone some more?" he's taken steps towards you, and gentle hands on your waist have you inhabiting your body once again. You're crying. Warm, fat tears falling down your face, but he doesn't try to wipe them away. "Why am I just a piece in a—in a fucking chess game? Does that analogy make it make sense for you now, Spencer? You are playing me like chess. How fucking dare you!"

So much of your energy is exerted into pounding your fists against his chest, and he just lets you. Every word you spoke corresponding with another hit. He doesn't do anything until you exhaust yourself, and your hands fall limply by your sides again.

Then, he speaks, in a voice so calm you think you imagined your outburst. "What have you found?"

"What?"

"What have you found?" 

"Nothing," panic rises in your chest. "I—I don't understand why I had to have found something—"

"—This isn't coming from nowhere," he observes. Then, it clicks. His understanding of your brain coming to the forefront of his mind. "Unless it is. All this talk about my inability to be alone, did I leave you alone for too long? Is that where this is coming from? Are you spiralling and making up a narrative about me and then, evidently, taking out your frustrations at a made up problem on me?"

"No," your voice strains. "I mean, I did find something, but it's stupid now."

"It's stupid now," he parrots, condescendingly. "Stupid as in, you think you're going to be ridiculed for being upset about something valid, or stupid because it is not valid at all?"

"That's—you're being mean," you stammer, but even as you say them, the words sound unjust. 

He must laugh mockingly, or maybe he's belittling you with it. Unkind words being thrown, and now you're trying to make him the bad guy. What a breathtaking reveal of your expert victimisation.

"I'm being mean?" his tone is incredulous. "Me? Coming from the girl who said I'm, what, exhausting to be around? To know? I'm the mean one?" 

Yeah, okay, you deserve that.

"You're invalidating what I'm saying—"

"—I'm regurgitating your own words back at you!" he snaps. "You said it was stupid. You. Not me."

Let me speak. "Spencer—"

"—The latter, then. You're embarrassed to admit that."

Let me speak. "Spencer—"

"—Whatever it is you found, I don't care. I can't imagine you've found anything."

You stare at him, waiting. Waiting for him to continue, to berate you some more, to offend you so deeply you can find a real reason to be upset with him. Right now, there is nothing but overthinking his gestures, and blowing things out of proportion. 

"It's little things."

"Little things," he clarifies. 

"Yeah."

You hear him sigh. He's exasperated. "I'm gonna need more than that."

"Like—like..." you're stammering again, your brain folding over itself to find something you can bring up to him that doesn't sound utterly insane. You aren't insane. 

Right?

"Like when I left early the morning after sex for work?" he cuts in, and your chest tightens. Not because his words are mean — though, they are — but because they are true. "Did you think I didn't want you anymore? Or when I didn't call you back for two days because I was on a case? Those little things?"

"I guess."

"Right," he nods. "So, again, did I leave you alone for too long you spiralled into making up narratives about me?"

"They're not narratives—"

"—You've wholly convinced yourself I am a bad person!" you flinch at how loud his voice is, and for a moment, he pauses. He softens, his tensed arms relaxing, and he's sure to take a comforting step back from you. "You're so sure of this idea that I am using you for sex, and I don't want you for anything else, and only when I am bored, or lonely," still silent, he studies your face for a reaction. Whatever he finds mustn't satisfy him, because he continues. "I don't text you constantly because I don't want to be overbearing. I don't hierarch my friendships by how often I talk to someone. Rather, by what I spend my time with them doing. Being with you is so easy. I love being with you. Yes, I like having sex with you too, because I am attracted to you, and that's something we've established. If that has changed, and this is a long, winding way to tell me that, then please—"

"—It hasn't changed," you're quick to correct him.

"Okay," he nods again, firmer this time. "Then, I don't understand why you can't just talk to me. Why can't you just talk to me? Why do I have to be insulted before you communicate with me? It feels almost unfair."

It is unfair. You know that. The thought appears in your brain every single time an insult flies out of your mouth. 

Yet, you can't stop. 

"You're ridiculing me right now. Why do you think I can't communicate with you? You make me feel small. Like—like my feelings aren't valid, and I'm crazy! Am I crazy? Do you think I'm crazy, Spencer? Do you hear me say all these things I think about you and go, fuck, this girl is a psycho? You must. Or else you wouldn't be here," there's a look of recognition behind your eyes that scares him. Your lips twitching, a sardonic laugh leaving them. "You find it fascinating, don't you? Figuring out my brain. Why I do the things I do, why I feel the way I feel. I have a brain you can psychoanalyse for your sick pleasure, so of course you don't leave!"

"No. That's not why I'm here," he speaks so calmly, and you know you've touched a nerve. You feel bad, somewhere. Outside of this untouchable blackout, you're apologising to him. Over, and over, and over. 

"I'm here because I like you," when you open your mouth to mock him, he cuts you off, "did you know I think about you constantly? Everything I do I think of you. I find books I've read in stores, and think of you, and how you'd love them. I see posters for movies I have no desire to watch, but consider asking you to go see them because you mentioned liking the lead actor in passing. Every case, I am picking up the phone on the first ring in case it's you asking how it's going. I care so deeply for you, and this is confusing me a lot, hurting me a lot, because I didn't realise you weren't aware of that. But I can't reassure you every week that I do like you."

You stare at him. "Then you don't really know me. I said really early on that I'm insecure."

"I didn't think it would be this bad."

This bad. 

"It's not my fault you can't step outside yourself."

This bad.

Your chest aches, and you can feel every single familiar feeling in your body dissipate. Once again, just a sack of skin standing in the centre of your apartment, looking at a boy who has so much distaste for you in this moment, his anger is silent. 

Quietly you murmur, "Then I can't do this."

"Yeah," he breathes. "Me neither. You're exhausting too."

And then he's gone. 

Silence. 

There is so much silence when you are alone like this. His final words echoing in your brain, following your conscience down to the depths of it. Ruminating beneath years — decades — of mistreatment, insults. Every single layered brick that built the person you are today rotting in the pit of your brain, with the last thing Spencer Reid ever said to you, fresh; hot. 

He left, and you're stuck with the silence of your apartment. The door that fell shut taunting you, for it was the last thing you possess to feel the touch of his hands. Gentle hands that used to hold you as you cried like this, letting you soak his skin with tears and then taking you out to the rooftop to watch the stars. Loving hands that used to push buttons you never knew to exist until he pushed them, emitting sounds you didn't know you could make until he emitted them. Kind hands, that would hold your waist when in a crowd of people; your face as he kissed you. 

You pick yourself up off a floor you don't remember falling to, stumbling over feet too fast for your brain, trying to get away from here. Here, where he yelled at you, and you; him. Here, where he told you your brain is too bad for him to deal with. Here, where he left you. 

You find your bathroom.

Uncomfortable, fluorescent lighting blinds you as you find solace in the cold tiling; the chipping painted cabinetry. Trembling hands fish your phone out of your pocket, and you stare at the black screen on the device for so long you must go insane. Burning the barely there image of your teary face into your mind, going over every single thing he said to you tonight. Every single cruel thing you said. 

Guilt creeps up on you, twisting its way through your gut and up to your throat. Choking you, until you're gasping for air, eyes wide. 

"No," you stutter, the word leaving your lips too many times, your head spinning. Fingers burying into your hair, phone clattering to the floor. "No."

At some point, sobs calm down, and tears dissipate. You find your footing within yourself again, furniture becomes furniture again, objects are objects. Your brain is no longer closing in on itself. 

You unlock your phone and find his contact. 

It rings for minutes. Probably only seconds. So loud in the silence of your apartment, and every ring inches open the door of regret. 

The line clicks. Quiet follows.

Quiet, not silence. Though you are breathing heavily to yourself, you are not alone with your thoughts, and it is not the only sound you can hear. 

There, through the phone, you can hear him breathing too. 

[walks-the-ages]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but regurgitating Radical Feminism talking point of

"Men are all Inherently Evil, Physically Superior, and Predatory to Women"

does not, in fact, do anything for Actual Feminism where the main talking point is

"We are all Human Beings and we're not Intrinsically Different based on the gender some random doctors decided on at birth"

and you're not doing anything for Queer Solidarity either when you go around proclaiming that all men, including trans men, are these evil oppressive monsters who have advantages in life based purely on their gender (even if they are trans men who are not out of the closet yet, apparently) , and I'm not sure why on earth the new crop of Trans-Inclusive Rad Fems think that being 'proud misandrists' is going to save them from being targeted by cis transphobes??? You can't win protection from transphobes by throwing your fellow trans community under the bus, and when you go around saying that all men are disgusting oppressive predators who have never done anything for the queer community ever and have never experienced any true oppression ever its like. ....

.... what the fuck is wrong with you?

Did you forget the AIDs crisis exists?

Did you forget the gay and bi men exist?

Did you forget that Black men exist??

The world's oppression does not begin and end with trans women, and if you're happy to throw the rest of the trans community under the bus so you can feel superior, I don't know who the heck you expect to have your back when you need help, because everyone else has already been run the fuck over, because you fucking threw them in the road because you somehow still think Respectability Politics is gonna save you instead of leaving your Exclusionist Bubble the community that ends up alone and isolated.

Trust me. Life is a lot more bearable and hopeful when you don't go around insisting an entire 50% of humanity is evil based on their gender. Try talking to your fellow trans men, trans mascs, nonbinary people and intersex people before you make another post about how """theyfabs have it so easy and trans men are inherently privalaged and evil because they're men and they shouldn't talk about reproductive health or the need for safe abortions because that's just speaking over women""" 🤦🤦🤦

[lovelyjj]

💔

Having JJ as your boyfriend was exhilarating. There was never a dull moment. You loved each other with every fiber of your being. The two of you were soulmates, destined to be together. JJ brought out the best in you. JJ wanted to be a better man for you because you deserved the world. You have been dating for a while now. It was nothing short of amazing. Not only did you love each other, you wanted a future together.

Your sex life was truly unbelievable. It was mind blowing. JJ was a expert. He knew your body like the back of his hand. He always made you feel comfortable and listened to what felt good. Having sex with JJ was magical. Two people making love and enjoying each other’s company. JJ did his best to make you happy and focused on your pleasure.

The two of were in JJ’s room at the château, lounging in JJ’s bed. JJ was tracing shapes on your thigh. You were cuddling. Both of you were enjoying the peacefulness of the evening. JJ breaks the silence by saying, “I love you so much baby, so glad I have you by my side.” “I love you too,” you replied. JJ cups your face and leans in for a kiss. Your lips crush together in a messy kiss. JJ feels so lucky to have you. He feels his heart beat faster. Your stomach does little flips and you feel tingly as you make out.

JJ’s tongue slides into your mouth. Your tongues dance together as you kiss. “Need you so bad baby,” JJ pulls back a little and whispers over your lips. You smile at his words and run a hand through his hair. “Can I take this off?” JJ asks pulling at your shirt. “Yes.”

JJ removes your shirt leaving you in your lacey black bra. Then JJ takes off his shirt revealing his toned abs. You place your hands on his stomach and run your fingers over his abs causing JJ to chuckle. JJ starts to kiss your neck sucking deep purple marks onto your skin. JJ pushed your bra straps off your shoulders and unclipped it. He kissed both of your breasts and massaged them with his hands.

You arched your back pushing your boobs into JJ’s hand and let out a soft moan. “Need to be inside you,” JJ pants. You nod your head and remove your shorts. JJ slides his pants off along with his boxers. You lay on your back as JJ hovers over you. He lines his cock at your entrance. “Ready for me baby?”

“Yes.” JJ slowly entered you with a deep groan. He gives you a minute to adjust before he moves. Then JJ pulls all the way out just to slam back in. He sets a brutal pace as he fucks you deep and raw. You squeezed around him and JJ saw stars. “You feel so good,” JJ exclaimed.

JJ easily slid in and out with how wet you were. You could tell he was getting close with the way his dick was twitching. He could tell you were getting close because your walls were spasming. “I’m gonna cum,” JJ breathed.

“Give it to me,” you begged. JJ thrusted again and again as he released deep inside you. “Oh god, baby… Yes… Tiffany… Yes…” JJ yelled as he came. He continued to move through his release drawing it out.

“Who is Tiffany?” You paused absolutely shocked and sick to your stomach.

JJ freezes, realizes his mistake. His eyes widen as he processes what he just said. “Oh god, I’m so sorry Tiffany was my ex. We broke up years ago.” He looks at you with a pained expression. “Please forgive me.”

“JJ what the fuck?!” You were furious. How could he have done this to you. You thought he loved you.

JJ pulls out and puts some sweats on. He starts pacing the room. "I don't know what came over me. It was a slip of the tongue, I swear. Tiffany and I haven't been together in so long. You mean everything to me."

“Hmm,” you speak.

He stands still, running a hand through his hair in distress. "I know I messed up badly. Calling out her name while making love to you... It's unforgivable. I'm so sorry." He looks at you imploringly. "Can you tell me what you're thinking?"

“Im thinking how can you love me when your thinking about another girl. how can this happen? i thought you loved me and only me now i’m not so sure.”

His expression turns agonized. "No, no, baby, please don't think that. I love you with all my heart. Tiffany is just a ghost from my past. I never loved her the way I love you. Please, please believe me. I'm begging you."

“I’ll have to think about it.”

He nods solemnly, his heart breaking. "I understand. I've given you reason to doubt me and that kills me. Take all the time you need to think. I'll be here, hoping and praying that you'll forgive me someday. I never meant to hurt you. You're my whole world.”

You stand up and get dressed. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch.”

He watches helplessly as you walk to the couch, his heart heavy with sorrow. "Baby, please... Don't do this. We can talk, work through this together. The couch is not the answer." He follows you, kneeling beside the couch.

“I think i just need some space.” You admit.

“Oh um okay, I’ll be just in the next room if you need me, again i’m so sorry,” JJ replied sadly. He never felt so guilty and ashamed.

JJ went to sleep that night thinking of ways he could prove to you he loved you and to win you back. He couldn’t loose you and that’s what scared him the most. He didn’t think he would survive loosing you.

part 2

[drdemonprince]

what do you think is the answer to dealing with the stereotypical “roommate won’t do dishes bc of trauma/sensory issues”? like sure that’s possible it’s difficult & people should be aware of their needs, but when it begins affecting other people, i feel like someone has to consider other solutions—i.e. using paper plates instead of ones they have to wash. it’s also complicated when racial & gender dynamics come in to play. and then when i think on myself as an autistic white trans guy how can i both recognize where i need support but balance it with not recreating bad dynamics? I’m just not sure how we have these conversations while still validating folks experiences & dismissing their problems. we all deserve help but we also can so easily overly rely on others & burn them out especially if we have privilege over them. disability, especially invisible disabilities often become a shield for white folks & men it feels like to get away with shitty behaviors

I honestly think that a big problem people encounter in navigating such issues is that they make what is ultimately going to have to be a personal negotiation of limits and needs into something that is far more symbolic and abstract. it's almost impossible not to, if you care about social justice issues, and I think there are good intentions when people try to be mindful of how race and gender alongside interplay with this stuff, but in practice a lot of times people use their political ideals as a reason to argue against their own feelings or to not be honest about their feelings. people feel like they don't have the right to say that they cannot do something or need support, or that they're pissed off, in an individual level relationship, because they are treating both themselves and their roommate or partner as a symbol of an entire group. I think a person has to be able to tell their roommate when they are being an asshole. I think a person should just be straight up if doing the dishes is something that's not generally going to happen for them -- in unmasking autism I profile Reese Piper, an autistic sex worker who just straight up tells her prospective roommates that doing the dishes is not something she can do, so then they know what they are getting into and can work around it. honest conversations about what a person is and is not capable of and what they need really can vanquish a lot of so-called weaponized incompetence and other domestic issues long before they occur. but all parties involved have to be operating based on good faith. unfortunately not everyone is, sometimes people use their identities or their roommates guilt around structural oppression in order to pressure them to do things that they cannot do, and conversely it is very common for a white or TME roommate to weaponize anti blackness or transmisogyny against a roommate who speaks up about any inequity and portray them as the aggressive one. but I think before somebody gets way way too much in their own head about how a particular conflict looks or what structural issues might be relevant in the aggregate, they really have to start from a baseline level of self-acceptance and the ability to articulate both which household tasks are hard or impossible for them, and when they are fucking cheesed at their roommate for not doing what seems like their fair share. if you feel like you can't name those things, you're never going to actually have a respectful functioning relationship.

[biwitchenergyz]

Fit to Eat

(Fit to Eat - BiWitchEnergy - Sinners (2025) [Archive of Our Own])

Super long one-shot because I have no self-control! Enjoy <3

The scent of mortality rose from the dancing crowd, lingering at their stomping feet and rising in the air above as they raised their hands to the heavens. Bodies move together in their unique ways, yet follow the same rhythm.

You swayed amongst them, blending into their humanity with a long-practiced ease, dancing against a man with carob eyes whose hands grab your waist uncomfortably tight, desperate enough to amuse you. Hundreds of heartbeats bleeding together made your ears ring, heightened senses overwhelming you. The singer, Preacher Boy as he is called, plays the guitar with precision you have never seen before. 

You remember the music of your home nearly 1,400 years ago and the music your father brought from his own home in a distant land, but sometimes you find it in these places. Changed but still the same, just like your people, whose resilience has endured suffering unimaginable.

Your father would be proud, you think, to see such a thriving party and such joy from people who have had to struggle for any pleasure they get. Your mother, with her Irish heritage and wild nature, would also approve of this rendezvous; you can almost see them now, dancing together beyond the veil where not even the conquerors can separate them.

A sudden commotion from outside reaches your sensitive ears, the mortals don't stir. They dance on without a care, even as you pull away from the grasping man behind you and head for the door. The silly little guard, Cornbread, had examined you and gladly welcomed you in. Taking in your pretty skin, curls, and the wealth of your outfit. Now he stands with the owners and a few others at the front, guarding the door for this newcomer who waits outside, asking for permission to join the party. 

“What’s going on out there, Miss Annie?” You asked the gentle woman, with her calming demeanor reminding you of a sister long lost to time. She smiled, shaking her pretty head and telling you not to worry. A familiar scent catches your nose as she speaks, your eyes locked on a strong pair of legs standing right outside the door, the rest of the body blocked by the handsome twins who own the Joint.  

Tobacco and sandalwood wafting in the air made your head swim, and your mind traveled to times of laughter and whispered conversation. Safety flooded your veins like a shot filled with ecstasy. You try to shake off the warmth you feel, but it's not a good idea to let yourself relax in such a way. After all, you are a predator of the finest degree, like a lioness on the prow. 

“Maybe for just one night we can all be family.” Like smooth whisky, that voice washes over you, and in an instant, you rush forward until you stand just behind the taller men who block your path. You could move them, shove them so hard they'd fly out the door and hit the dirt with a resounding thud, but there is no need. You have learned when to be violent and when to be human. 

“Remmick,” you say his name like a prayer. For you, it is. How long had it been? A millennium had felt like eons, yet your thoughts of him were just as frequent as the last day you shared with him. You left him for a reason, yet he clawed his way back, like you were the oasis for this dying man. His eyes reveal the truth: He wasn't expecting to find you here. They are stunned, entirely black, and dilated. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down like he's choking on your presence.

“Ay, pretty girl! Ya’ know this white boy?” Stack asks as he lets you in front of him, giving Remmick a full view of you. You bite your lower lip to stop the smirk that grows on you as you watch the way Remmick's hands shake as if he were an addict being presented a drug just out of reach. His fists clenched at his side, the look in his eyes a blend of desperation, anger, and something else. Something more substantial and more dangerous than the others.

“Ya’, I know him. We go way back. Get on inside, y'all.” You motion for the others to return to the party. If Remmick is looking for a feast, he won't find one here, not with you around. These people weren’t for drinking from; they were your friends, and if you played your cards right, they could be family.

“Ain’t gonna leave you out here with 'em’,” Smoke warns, staying frozen and unmoving like a wall. You shake your head, curls bouncing along your shoulders. Remmick traces every strand of hair with his eyes, hypnotized by the light that catches along your locks. 

“Go on in. Imma just be a minute, besides, he ain't no Klan.” Remmick's face twists into a deep-set frown as if to express disgust at being viewed as a Klan member. Smoke obeys as you step down the stairs, going from above Remmick like a divinity to right below him as he stood a few inches over you. Still, you didn't feel fear; you walked right past him and like an obedient dog, he followed you to the edge of the forest, out of view of the others. 

Suddenly, his demeanor darkens, the redness in his eyes glowing like a demon crawling from hellfire. He didn't put his hands on you, didn't even dare to touch your gentle skin, fearing he'd be turned away in an instant.

“Been lookin’ for you, darlin’.” He growled, baring fangs that matched your own hidden behind your soft lips. “D’fhág tú mé.” You left me. Instinctively, you take his face between your hands, a habit you've found works well with human men. He buried his face within them without hesitation, digging his nose against your fingers and taking in the familiar scent of your skin; he had never let you touch him before, and he certainly never sought it out.

Your head shakes, slowly moving side to side as you force him to look down at you. “D'impigh tú orm.” You begged me. He bit his lip, knowing he couldn’t argue the truth. “You needed me gone, suga’.” Reminding him doesn’t make you feel any better, but it eases the guilt that his wet eyes bring you. Over 400 years were spent together. As humans, He was beyond subtle if he’d ever yearned for you as you did him.

“I’ve looked for you ever since,” his voice cracks. “Can't go on without you. Just can’t. We were friends once, weren't we?” The pain of your absence has taken a toll on him. He looks like a man coming home from war, battered and yearning. His skin is pale as ivory, his blue eyes darker than navy, and filled with loneliness. Raven hair clings to his forehead, the humid Mississippi air makes everything sticky, even your hands feel clammy against his skin. 

“Gotta place out here, just beyond the trees.” His ears perk up, waiting for you to continue. “Let me get my shawl, needa’ tell my friend bye.” His lips twist downward, his eyes flash with something akin to fear. Remmick’s hands find yours as they cling to his face, and he holds you in place. The touch is strange, unfamiliar, but so craved that you don't pull away. 

“I’ll be back, Suga.” With the promise of returning, he lets you peel away from him, but you feel the pinpricks of his red eyes as they follow you into the Juke Joint. Cornbread watches you emerge from the darkness, relieved to see you safe from your little conversation with the stranger. The guard nods as he holds the door open and tells you to go right in. When you are safely inside, the feel of Remmick's eyes is gone, and you yearn for them again.

“Gonna need my shawl now, Annie.” You tell the younger woman as she dances in and out of the kitchen. Her eyebrow raises in one graceful motion.

“You leavin’ with that man?” You nod in confirmation. “I don’ know. Ain’t nothin good ever come from goin’ off with no white man.” She draws a laugh right out of you; it shakes your shoulders. Annie hands you the shawl, and you lean in across the table. You can smell the copper scent of her blood as it pulses through her veins, but your hunger has been sated for the night after draining two Klan members in an old house on the way over.

“Tween’ you and me, that’s my white man.”

——————————————————————-

An agonizing silence fills the walk to your estate. It’s aged, a short-lived summer home for some old white bastard. It was practically rotting when you found it, and the man inside was rotting with it. He wailed when you killed him, his eyes twitching even as you left his body outside, prepped for the vultures.

You’d made the manor into a home despite the moss that clung to the white walls and the overgrown grass filled with snakes, waiting for their next meal. 

The inside is clean, decorated with pristine treasures from travels long ago. In the thousand years since Remmick last saw you, traveling was your primary goal, and now it felt as though you'd seen everything twice over. Antiques from Peru, a grandfather clock bought in Belgium, and Zulu masks that decorate the walls.

It looks brand new yet older than anything else out in the Delta. Not older then the two occupants though, damn near nothing was anymore except perhaps the ruins of civilizations that once believed they would last.

“Never did leave the 1780’s  did ya?” He asked as he took in the decor, a mix of every century you lived through, yet heavily decorated with gilded furniture and antiques that you took from your Chateau in France. A time when you lived as the ‘bastard daughter’ of whatever duke whose home you stumbled upon before turning him, many years after you and Remmick separated.  If you were going to be damned for eternity then you were going to do it in wealth and style. 

Though gorgeously decorated, the home still had a southern feel. Mississippi grew from the floorboards and leaked into its very aesthetic. Your legs folded under you as you dropped onto the velvet couch you had acquired from a man in Leeds about a century ago.

Remmick’s fingertips gently ran across your old whatnot, delicately tracing the antiques resting upon it. A jar, filled with a strange mixture of liquids and herbs, covered in red candle wax, caught his eye. He didn’t touch it; the ornate bottle seemed holy to him. “Looked for ya’ in New Orleans. Heard talk of you there. Nearly tore the damn place apart lookin’.” 

You watched him, his eyes glued to the spell jar; he knew where you got it, from the voodoo queen herself. You hoped he didn’t see right through it, you hoped he didn’t think it was for him. How silly you were to put a protection spell on a man long dead, but you had been inconsolable that night, screaming for a man you thought hated you, yet still desperate to see him again one day.

Remmick doesn’t realize it, he turns to you with a proud tilt to his lips, “was gonna kill 'em all tonight. Thought that singer boy could bring you back to me. Thought if you was dead, then maybe he could show me your pretty face again.”

A cruel scoff rose from the depths of your soul, “ You could have seen my face every morning and every night. I would have been with you now if you had let me, you accursed white devil. I was your friend, I knew you better than anyone!” The southern drawl is gone from your tongue, leaving your authentic accent, something old and new all the same.

“I hated you.” In a second, he voices what you have feared for a millennium. “I blamed you, and it wasn’t even your fault, Darlin’. I was miserable and young, but I’d never do it now. I’m old enough to tell you the truth of it all.”

His lips quiver, “I need you, Darlin’. Always have needed ya. You're all I want.” Remmick sinks to his knees at your feet, digging into the oriental rug you brought from Luoyang. If his head bowed any lower, he would look as if he were prostrating himself before his god. Thick hands, claws and all, find your hips, and he clings to them. 

“You will never forgive me, Remi. I was your creator, I made you a monster. I-,” you pause as a knot rises in your throat, “I killed you.”

Remmick's hair sways as he shakes his head, gripping you harder. “I begged ya’. You was hurting, and I used you. I wanted revenge just as you did. They killed my family, thought they killed ya’. I would have done it all over again. I should never have blamed you.” Tears well in your eyes for the first time in a hundred years, foolish though it is, they don’t dare fall. He sees it and whines, taking both of you by surprise. The sound like a wounded animal snaps you out of a trance. 

“Please, baby.” He was rocking back and forth, his knees shifting against the rug. “Chased you all these years, hoping to get ya’ back. I lied to you, told ya’ I hated you, but spent my days dreaming of you. I had over four hundred years to tell you I loved you, but I was a coward.” The shuffling of his body as he was practically grinding himself against your leg was distracting. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we swam in the Lough Neagh.”  You can’t breathe, your shoulders slack, and you throw your head into your hands. The two of you were human then; your family had just moved to the area after spending eighteen years in the deep forests.

A man like your father and a daughter like you stood out against the pale Irish, especially on your mother's side. You couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was at least 1,400 years ago.

“I hate you. I loathe you. I’d dance on your grave,” you hissed as the tears poured over your eyes and onto your warm cheeks. “I thought you loved me. Before I turned you. Then you spent all those years, resenting me some days and being a friend the next.” He holds your wrists within his hands, trying to pry them from your face to see the tears that you hid. 

“I love you, Mo Shíorghrá.” My eternal love. Your wrists fell, allowing him to cup your cheeks within his hands, roughened from years of playing any instrument he could master. Slowly, almost like a fleeting touch, his rose colored tongue lapped at the tears that flowed from your eyes.

He continued this in between words, “before death found us, I was gonna marry you. Built the house and everything. We would’ve been parents, we’d have been buried together. I was just waitin’ to confess and ask for your hand.”

“You hated me. We fought every day. I tried to drown you in the Lough Neagh.” Your voice is strained.

“You looked so beautiful holding me underwater.” 

“I would have married you. We could have died together, saved from this eternal torment.” You whisper, a confession of your own that you'd waited a thousand years to say.

“Marry me now, then.”

Remmick’s blackened eyes search your face when you look up at him. Nodding your head to confirm to yourself that he is real and this is not a dream. You splay your hand across his chest, not timidly but calculatedly, pushing him back until he’s off his knees and lying against the ornate rug, surrounding him with vibrant shades of red and purple.

You slide off the couch and straddle him, sitting atop his lap. Remmick’s eyes are wide like a barn owl's, but redness blooms on his cheeks, mirroring the fire you feel spreading across your skin. His claws dig into your dress, ripping the red silk, and you chide him for it.

“Now, sweetheart, I loved this dress. Ya’ gonna be rough with your blushin’ bride?” He groans, thrusting his hips upward, effortlessly pushing your body higher.

Your southern accent leaves his chest heaving; you grin like a Cheshire Cat, realizing you've got him entrapped. Whispers leave him, strained and desperate, begging and cursing the years you spent fighting when you could have been doing this.

“So needy, pretty boy. How many girls ya’ been with? How many ya’ wish was me?” You purr, your clawed hands slowly trace up to his throat as he whimpers your name. When the two of you were humans, he had been engaged but narrowly dodged it, something you used to taunt him about. As far as you knew, he was innocent then.

You taste the salt of your sweat as it drips onto the top of your lip, you lick it away while making direct eye contact with the disheveled man who rolls his hips against you in the most pathetic display you've ever seen. The Irishman groans at the sight of your tongue darting along your plump lips.

“Too many, only when they looked like ya’. Ain’t never loved em’. Called ya’ name multiple times like a damn dog.” He gasps, your hands tighten on his neck, and he bucks his hips again, bouncing you on his lap.

Each buck has you falling back onto him, dragging your heat against his pelvis in a tantalizing way. You bite back a moan as he continues to ignite a deep ache within you. You're trembling above him, rutting against him with strangled cries.

“N’you? Can only imagine everyone who got to bed ya’. Always was stunning, all the people wanted a night with ya’ in their bed.” Hissing like a jealous viper, he grips your hips to grind you down against him. The rough rub of his jeans against your cotton under clothes is enough to make your eyes roll back, but you close them, raking your nails against his chest and shredding through his white shirt. His bulge presses into your clit, stimulating it just enough to make your limbs shake.

“Too many,” You sigh, using his words against him. It isn’t good enough for Remmick. He thrusts the tent of his pants against your core, and his nails sink into your hips.

He caresses the spots where his nails have left red indents on your hips, and his gentle demeanor surprises you until he's pulling you forward to nip at your neck. His fangs brush against you, considering breaking your skin. He’s challenging you, even after all this time, he still enjoys your battles. 

“Was a man out in,” you struggle to stop the sounds that rip from your throat as he continues grinding against you, “Out in Oregon. Coulda been your brother with the way he looked. I rode him till the sun came up.” Remmick growls, in a steady motion that takes you by surprise, he rises to his feet with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. You feel the outline of him pressed into you, begging for entrance.

“Bedrooms upstairs, suga’. To the right.” Nails tracing his neck, you whisper against his ear as he nearly flies up the stairs. You lean towards him, licking a stripe from his necklace to his jaw. He tastes of salt, copper, and something so sweet you can’t name it.

“Wanna know something else, love? I called ya’ name all night.” For your taunting, you're thrown onto the bed you carefully made before you left for the Juke Joint. The plush bead spread, dark as mulberry wine, cradles your back as you land against it. You're left with your thighs clenched together, desperate for stimulation as Remmick stands over you.

“Gonna do that for me tonight? I’m gonna make your pretty throat raw.” He’s clawing at the dip of your dress, right below your neck.  In one swift motion, he rips the dress straight down the middle.  He raises your leg, taking your ankle into his hand as he tenderly kisses the sensitive skin. Your leg quakes in his hand before he drops it. 

With one sharpened claw, he splits your two-piece undergarments until he can see every inch of you. Gently, he takes the cut clothing and peels it away from your body, tossing the rags to the floor. His shredded shirt follows.

  For the first time, you are completely naked before him. Not to say that he hadn't seen you in all the years you were together, lustful glimpses as the two of you bathed in the rivers and days spent sharing a bedroom waiting for the sun to set had given him prior knowledge of your nude form in rare flashes.

 Nothing could compare to this, with you lying below him, his eyes traced every stretch mark and every freckle in sight. He licked those too, bending over the bed and tracing your details with the tip of his tongue. From the marks along your thighs, he slowly moved lower, closer to where your body called for him. You grasp his hair, pulling his face away from your aching center.

“No! Need you right now, Remi!” Your voice, a strained whine as you pleaded for him to quit all the foreplay and just fuck you. His gleaming red eyes regard you with such softness that you throw your head back to hide your face from his loving gaze, scared he would see the desire in your eyes.

“Bout’ a thousand years I've waited for this.” Remmick's nose nudges your swollen clit, he buries his face into you, inhaling your heady scent. Lifting to watch your face, he continues, “damn near 500,000 days I've spent aching for ya’. Imma’ take my time tonight, darlin’.” He resumes his slow-paced lapping at your dripping cunt. With gentle fingers, he parts your flesh, giving him more access to you—his tongue, initially flat against your entrance, darts inside of you like a bullet. 

Useless words and lustful moans fall from your bloody lips, raw from attempting to bite back whimpers. Remmick has starved, yearned, and thirsted for this since he first laid eyes on you. It was worth every agonizing second.

 “Fuckin’ ambrosia.” He whimpers, “fruit of the gods.” Remmick’s tongue delves in and out of you as though he can’t get enough of your flavor. His fingers, thick yet long, trace your entrance as he pulls his tongue away to focus on your most pleasurable spot, engorged from the teasing. Your wrist finds your mouth when he pushes two fingers inside. Blood seeps from your lips, having bitten through your skin.

 Remmick whines like a bitch in heat. His hips rutting against the comforter as he continues savoring you on his tongue while opening you with his fingers as preparation. You hold your wrist out and he lifts his head, watching curiously as the blood drops down to your swollen cunt. His big red eyes widen at your offering.

“That’s my beloved, feeding me right from her veins,” He groans through swollen lips. Remmick rolls his hips against your bare calf, chasing the bliss that he feels with every move. His tongue swirls around your clit and his lips wrap around it as he sucks gently. His fingers fly in and out of you, deliberately curling into a spot deep inside you that has your back arching off the bed. 

You're clenching around him as you match his pace. Angelic moans fly from your lips, pleasure building in your stomach until the coil snaps and your legs spasm around Remmick's head. Your panting is soft, pleasurable tremors rake through your body.

The Irish man does not let up, he continues sucking and lapping up everything your body gives him, his clawed hands trail up your body until he's grasping at your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers. It’s borderline painful, you clench around nothing as he sucks at your clit. 

The continued ministrations leave you spasming, your fingers twitch and clench into Remmick's hair. Your hips grind against his nose, stars in your eyes, and then your body drops like a puppet cut from its string. Drool rolls down your swollen lips, and for a moment, you worry you have hit your head because the world is slipping in slow motion.

“Pretty girl, my pretty bride.” Remmick stroked your cheeks, wiping the drool from the corner of your lips and licking it off his fingers. The flavor of your spit and spend mix together on his tongue, and he whines, loud and needy. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, suga’. You gonna let me?” He raises until your chest is pressed flat against his, and your thighs instinctively wrap around his toned waist. Your hands lazily trace the line of his abdomen down to the thin patch of hair that leads to his arousal. Your palm cups that spot you feel yearning against you, but Remmick grabs your cheeks, pushing your lips together as he pulls your face to meet his.

“Fucked ya’ dumb already? Asked you a question, darlin’.” He says as you struggle to speak or meet his gaze. You are still drooling, mind empty of everything but him. You bobbed your head up and down, hoping to answer his question while your mind reeled from the pleasure in your veins. Tenderly, Remmick’s lips meet yours.

 It was not your first kiss; that was the day you turned him, but it's just as significant. You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him back to you when you part. This time, your lips move together, slowly pushing against each other.

Your tongue runs along his lips, he opens his mouth eagerly, and you wrap your tongue around his. You pull back when your lungs burn, Remmick rests his forehead against yours, and you stare into each other's eyes for a few loving minutes. “ I s liomsa thú agus is leatsa mise.” You are mine, and I am yours.

With trembling hands, Remmick takes hold of his weeping cock and positions it at your ready entrance. Gently, he inches himself into you until he can’t go any further. You swallow him within your warmth; he pulses with blood from his latest victim, and you can feel him twitch within you. Your legs, still wrapped around him, push him into you, begging for him to move, but he remains still. His eyes, rubies of light, watch you as if he's a man obsessed, taking in the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips.

 “I loved ya’ in Ireland.” He starts, ignoring your confused look. “I’ve followed traces of ya’ from the deserts to freezing shores. And in every place, every damned second, I’ve been entirely in love with ya’.” He pulls back slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that leaves you before he snaps back in, refilling the emptiness and drawing out a breathy moan from you.

“When the sun goes down, we gonna go back to that joint and kill every last one of 'em.” Your lips on his neck make him moan against your breast as you whisper those words in his ears. 

“We gonna have the family ya’ve always wanted.” You nip at his earlobe, pale as the moon. He rocks in and out of you with whimpers and whines that make you throb around him, feeling every movement and hearing every sigh. 

“Maybe if ya’ fuck me hard enough, you’ll fill me with your babe,” the words sound like a prayer when purred against his lips. Remmick stops moving. He looks down at you for a minute; you worry that you've said the wrong thing until animalistic lust sets into his eyes. Then he's fucking into you, reckless and frantic with desire. The old bed creaks with each thrust. He ravishes you, like a man on his wedding night, desperate and hungry. 

The bed frame groans as it bangs against the withered walls. Your nails scratch along his back, leaving marks that will heal in a day. He grunts, deep and long, as your nails draw blood from him. Your arms shake around his neck, chasing every thrust and craving it. You whisper words of encouragement, urging him to go faster and harder. Your sucking at the flesh of his neck, panting against him as he continuously hits the spot inside of you that leaves you whining against his skin.

Remmick grips your waist hard enough to bruise as he raises you from beneath him, slipping out of you for a minute before lying onto his back and placing you on top of him.

“Show me how you rode my look-alike.” He purred, as he took hold of his cock making it easier for you to sink onto him. You do so, biting your lower lip as he fills you even further than before. You felt drunk, entirely at his mercy, but you reminded yourself that letting him win would be a shame, so you gathered your wits even as you rocked your hips back and forth, rising up and down like you were riding a wild horse.

“He ain’t like you. He made me howl like a bitch,” you cooed as your man growls in response. Below you, Remmick looks completely unwraveled. His hips jolt up, quicker and rougher, as if he's challenging your smug statement. The golden chain on his neck catches your attention as your head lands against him. He whimpers when you pull him closer to you with a yank of the necklace. 

Your rolling hips speed up, arching your back as that special spot inside of you is continuously probed. Remmick holds your waist, helping you rise and fall onto him, his eyes are filled with tears, and his lips spout slurred praises. “This the chain I gave ya’? One I bought you before you begged me tuh’ leave?” He nodded frantically.

“Never take it off.” He groans as you halt your movement. 

“Not even when ya’ fucking them other girls?”

“Nah. Gets me hard, thinkin’ bout’ you.” Remmick’s hand grasps your neck, borderline choking you, but it does not stop your deep inhales. His words send goosebumps across your skin, before you know it, you are shouting praises as your hips grind against him.

Your legs crumble, your climax hitting you for the third time that day. Searing ecstasy washes over you, forcing you to scream Remmick's name as you tighten around him. You slump, your forehead hidden in his shoulder. With a sudden burst of energy, Remmick snaps his hips into you for three more thrusts before his body spasms. You feel heat like never before as he releases inside of you. You lie against him, your thighs weak around his hip bones as you both relax into the bed. He doesn't pull out of you, and secretly, you hope to stay like this until the night returns. 

“Wanna’ do it all again.” You whisper in his ear, fangs dangerously close to piercing it.

“Gimme’ a minute, imma take you on the table next.” Remmick groaned, already plotting every place he would have you shaking for him.

“Nah, I meant the traveling. Been bored with it all for a while. Now, I wanna do it all again with ya’ near me not waitin’ in the shadows.” You tell him as he plays with the curls of your hair, tugging at them gently.

“Fuck it. I’m all yours, Mo Shíorghrá.” Remmick nuzzled into your hair, feeling at peace for the first time in a millennium.

[kitty6choi]

𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: The memory of his betrayal is still present in your mind, but you decide to leave it behind now that you are at peace, but when an old friend asks you for a favor, you cannot refuse without imagining that you will relive some feelings that you thought you had buried.

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Song Mingi x fem! reader

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut MDNI + little angust + mafia au + loves from the past

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 9.2k (damn it)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Fights, physical injuries, blood, aggression, violence, hidden identity, sexual warnings: unprotected sex (don't do it), semi-public sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, creampie, (sorry if I forgot anything)

A/N: First of all, sorry for the delay, December was very frustrating for me and it wasn't very pleasant and I needed a little break, but now I'm better so I was finally able to finish this fic and I'm very proud, I hope you like it <3 English is not my first language so sorry if I made a mistake.

⋆｡˚୨𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍୧˚｡⋆

With hurried steps, you adjusted the cap over your hair and pulled up the collar of your jacket. You were fleeing from the sirens echoing in the distance. It wasn’t anything new for you, and you knew it wouldn’t stop being part of your life because of the bad decisions you’d made in the past. This was your life now, and there was nothing else you could do but survive.

What started as small thefts to eat or find something to keep you warm turned into a desperate search for shelter. That’s how you ended up seeking help from dangerous people. The Black Eye wasn’t just a group of petty criminals; they were an organized, ruthless network—and, for you, the last chance to keep living.

Despite your efforts, you knew you were at a disadvantage because you were a woman. But if you had to hide that fact to survive, you would do it. The hardest part was cutting your hair, but you did it. Then, you wrapped your chest with bandages, wore loose-fitting clothes, and finally, you began calling yourself “Lee.” You tried not to speak too much and always wore a cap to hide your face, hoping no one would ask too many questions. That’s how you managed to catch the attention of one of their members.

They tested you for a couple of months before deciding to present you to their leader. You were nervous, cold sweat trickling down your back, but you kept calm as you waited in a room. Then, the doors opened, and two people walked in. One of them was tall and muscular, with multiple scars on his face. From his imposing presence, you guessed he was the leader, Jack. The other person entered calmly, taking his time to assess the room silently but with sharp alertness.

“Is this the new recruit?” the second person asked in a deep, curious voice.

“Yes, Mingi, this is Lee,” another man replied, shoving you forward. He was the recruiter who had "guaranteed" your entry into the group.

Mingi approached you, observing you for a long moment, watching how you lowered your gaze and hid your hands in your pockets.

“Why do you want to join us?” he finally asked. His voice was low, almost gentle, but heavy with authority.

“I need protection. And you need someone who knows how to navigate the streets,” you replied, your voice firm but calm.

“You better be useful, Lee,” he said, pronouncing your false name with authority. You knew that from now on, you belonged to the gang, and he was making your place clear. “There’s no room for the weak here.”

“You’re in,” the other man said before turning and leaving the room, leaving you with the assurance that you’d live to see another day.

Your days of trying to survive on your own had now turned into trying to hide your true identity to keep living. It was hard, but over time, you learned to manage. You avoided interacting with the members and rarely spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. Still, there were a few moments when you were almost discovered.

You tried to blend in, and for most people, you succeeded—except for one. Song Mingi. He always seemed to notice everything, and for the past few months, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you. It was starting to get annoying.

One day, after a mission went slightly out of control, you returned to the abandoned warehouse that served as the gang’s base. A voice you knew all too well called your name.

“Lee, come here.” You turned to see Mingi in the distance and dragged your feet toward him “I have to admit, I’m surprised you made it back,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He always said before every mission that he didn’t expect you to return, but you made it back just to see his irritated expression.

“Get used to it, Song. I’ll be here for a while,” you replied, a bit defiantly, raising your head to meet his gaze despite his towering height.

Mingi stared at you, tilting his head slightly, and let out a low chuckle—but there was no humor in it. With a swift motion, before you could react, he grabbed your face firmly, his nails digging into your cheeks.

“Listen closely,” he said, leaning in, his voice dropping but his grip unrelenting as you struggled to free yourself by clutching his hand. “There’s no place here for someone like you.” You froze at his words, fear flashing in your eyes as you locked gazes with him. Then, without warning, he shoved you hard, making you fall to the ground “Get out,” he said coldly.

The days didn’t get any better, and you began questioning whether you had made the right decision. But the fear of what might happen if you left the gang kept you in place—even if it meant enduring Mingi watching your every move.

One day, the gang organized one of its oldest traditions: an internal fighting tournament. It was a way to measure strength, prove who was worthy and who wasn’t, and keep the members sharp for real confrontations. The atmosphere in the warehouse was charged with excitement and pent-up violence, as shouts and bets filled the space.

You didn’t want to be there, but you thought staying alone in the rooms would make you stand out more. Blending into the crowd seemed safer—or so you thought. The fight was entertaining, but it didn’t excite you as much as it did the people around you. Still, you forced yourself to watch and analyze the movements of both fighters. To no one’s surprise, the expected victor won. He had five consecutive wins under his belt, and now, as his sixth opponent lay defeated, no one wanted to face him.

“Who’s next?” the winner shouted, scanning the crowd for his next victim. Everyone took a step back, and silence began to fill the room. You noticed how some were shoving the newer recruits forward. From afar, you felt a gaze on you. You looked up, only to lock eyes with Mingi, who was staring at you intently, a smile on his face.

“Lee, maybe you should go next,” Mingi said suddenly, breaking the silence. You cursed him in your mind as all eyes turned to you. You began searching for an excuse to decline, but you knew Mingi wouldn’t let this opportunity pass “You should earn your place, rookie,” he said, taunting you. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder “Or do you think you don’t deserve it?” he added, provoking you further.

You felt hands pushing you toward the ring. With your heart pounding, you climbed into the makeshift ring as the crowd gathered around, shouting bets and cheering for the fight.

You glanced at Mingi behind the crowd and sighed, cursing him under your breath before turning to face your opponent. He was a tall, muscular man whose muscles seemed to have muscles. His angry expression only highlighted how eager he was for this fight.

You took a step back, but hands pushed you forward. Then, the bell rang, signaling the start of your defeat.

You didn’t even try. You knew you had no chance. You simply closed your eyes as you saw the man’s fist coming straight for your face, bracing for the impact. His punch knocked the air out of you in one blow. You thought that would be enough to stop him, but you didn’t expect him to climb on top of you and continue his brutal assault.

Everything around you grew blurry. The crowd’s cheers faded into the distance. You didn’t fight back—not even a little. You let the darkness take over.

When you opened your eyes again, you wished you hadn’t. A sharp pain coursed through your entire body, as if a train had run you over. Despite the agony, you tried to move to figure out where you were until something stopped you.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice ordered. You turned your head to see Mingi sitting nearby, arms crossed. He looked worried, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of seriousness.

“What happened?” you asked, staying still.

“You got beaten up,” he said bluntly. “Then you passed out.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Well, thanks to you.”

Mingi sighed deeply, watching as you struggled to sit up. He seemed angry—not at you, but at himself.

“I didn’t think this would happen,” he said, his frustration evident.

“Whatever,” you muttered, attempting to stand, but the pain in your left side was unbearable. “Damn it.”

“Let me help you,” Mingi offered, stepping closer. You flinched, fear sparking within you as he approached. The sudden movement made you wince in pain again.

“I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t,” he snapped, taking another step forward. You tried to back away, but with your injuries and his speed, you couldn’t stop him from grabbing your arm.

“Stop moving,” he commanded. You wanted to fight him off, but there wasn’t a trace of strength left in your body. He pushed you gently back onto the mattress and lifted your hoodie.

His expression darkened instantly. His hand froze mid-motion as he realized the truth.

“You…” His voice came out uneven, words escaping him as the realization sank in. Everything finally clicked in his mind. “Why?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have the energy to argue, especially over something like this. You simply waited for the worst to come.

And it did, far sooner than expected. The door to the room opened, and the leader walked in. Mingi snapped out of his daze as Jack approached you, his face a mix of concern and curiosity.

“How are you?” Jack asked, ignoring the tension hanging in the air.

“I…”

“can’t stay,” Mingi’s voice rang out, cutting through the room. Fear surged in you as you silently begged him with your eyes to keep the secret. But the doubt in his gaze told you all hope was lost “It's a woman,” Mingi declared. The words echoed in the room, followed by silence so profound that all you could hear was the pounding of your heart.

Jack’s gaze shifted to you, filled with a mix of astonishment and concern. After a long, heavy sigh, he finally spoke.

“I know.”

“What?!” Both you and Mingi exclaimed at the same time, equally stunned. You thought Jack would throw you out right then and there, not admit he already knew.

“How…?” you asked, still in shock.

“Since when?” Mingi demanded angrily. “And why didn’t you tell me?”Jack leaned against the wall, crossing his arms “Since the beginning. It was kind of obvious, if you ask me,” he said, looking directly at you. “You were shorter than most, and your appearance was different. You stood out. It wasn’t hard to figure out.” Mingi stepped forward, but Jack continued “I let you join because I wanted to see how far you’d go on your own—until this idiot decided to intervene.” Mingi lowered his head like a scolded dog.

“Even so, she can’t stay,” Mingi insisted.

“She absolutely can. And you, you damned fool, will shut your mouth and act like you saw nothing,” Jack ordered.

“But she can’t defend herself!”

“This is your fault,” Jack shouted, his voice rising. “I told you to leave Lee alone, and now she’s hurt. From now on, she’s your responsibility. If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.”

Mingi clenched his fists, his face red with fury and frustration. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You were left in confusion, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Everything felt strange and surreal. Jack approached you, and you looked at him, still processing.

“Why?” you finally asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jack replied.You let out a tired sigh, too drained to argue. You just wanted to rest.

“Mingi’s a good person, but sometimes he’s an idiot,” Jack said. “He’ll look after you. You don’t have to worry; no one will find out your secret. You’re safe here.”You decided to believe his words. You didn’t want to fight anymore “Now rest. Everything will be fine.”

******

The first few months were tense. You were still recovering and couldn’t do much more than linger around. Even so, Mingi was always nearby, watching you with a mix of frustration and curiosity in his eyes. He made sure no one got too close to you, even if it meant getting into fights with other gang members. His constant presence annoyed you, but it was also a relief. You knew that, despite everything, he was keeping his word to protect you.

When you felt ready to return to the streets, Mingi stopped you, and Jack agreed. You had no choice but to stay in the warehouse, but you didn’t waste your time. You started training to be prepared—you didn’t want to end up on the ground again.

It was nighttime, and everyone else seemed to be asleep, but the sound of your fists hitting the old punching bag echoed throughout the space. Your punches were clumsy, and you felt exhaustion in your arms with each hit, but you refused to give up. You needed to learn to defend yourself.

“You’re terrible,” his deep voice said behind you, making you freeze. You turned quickly to see Mingi leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that irritating smile.

“What do you want, Song?”

“Nothing. The noise woke me up, that’s all. Go on,” he said, gesturing toward the bag hanging in front of you.

“If you’re not going to help, then leave,” you replied, rolling your eyes before turning back to the bag and hitting it again, ignoring him.

He walked toward you slowly, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Standing behind you, he took your wrists in his large hands before you could protest, adjusting them into a different position. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Like this. Keep your fists tighter, and don’t just use your arms. You need to involve your whole body in the punch.” His closeness made you nervous. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck and the warmth of his body just behind yours. You shivered but tried to focus on his words.

“Now, try again,” he said, releasing you slowly.

You took a deep breath and threw another punch at the bag, following his instructions. This time, your punch felt stronger.

“Better,” he said with a smile, nodding in approval.

“Whatever.” You couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. There was something in his expression, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat faster. “Thanks.” You didn’t know where those words came from, but somehow, they made the air in the room feel lighter.

“You’ve done enough for tonight,” he said quickly, his voice rougher than before. “Get some rest. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“This is just the first step, Lee.” He turned and walked toward the exit, but before leaving, he paused for a moment to look back at you as you struggled to steady the strange rhythm of your heart.

"Again."Your heart was pounding, and every muscle in your body screamed with exhaustion, but all you could hear was Mingi's voice "Harder."Your hands were bruised and swollen, yet you didn’t stop throwing punches "Harder." You focused on everything Mingi had taught you over the past few weeks—firm feet, clenched fists, channeling your strength. But there was something more, something raw. The anger you’d suppressed for years surged within you, blinding and heavy with sadness.

On your final punch, you released everything you’d been holding inside. Your body gave out, and you collapsed to your knees, gasping for air. Mingi rushed to your side, helping you sit down somewhere nearby as he handed you a bottle of water.

“Shit, don’t scare me like that.”You shoved him away and tried to stand, ready to continue, but he grabbed your arm “Take a break.”

“I can’t,” you said breathlessly. “I need to be ready for tomorrow.”

“You’re not fighting.”

“You can’t stop me, Song.” Mingi gripped your shoulders, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” His words caught you off guard, and before you could respond, he stepped closer. He was so close now that you could barely think.“Not again.” The overwhelming silence was filled with an unfamiliar sensation in your chest.

In recent weeks, the two of you had spent hours training together. At first, it was just a few hours a night, but over time, the darkness of the night wrapped you both in an odd honesty. You talked about things you never planned to share. He told you how he ended up in the gang, and for the first time in years, you told someone the truth about your past.

“I’m ready,” you said firmly. “And neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me.” You pulled away from his grasp and headed toward the exit, but you heard his hurried footsteps behind you.

“What are you trying to prove?” You turned slightly to look at him and sighed.

“It’s not about that. The world is cruel to someone like me.” You knew he understood you meant being a woman, and his expression softened with compassion “And I won’t let them leave me on the ground again.”

Mingi didn’t know how to respond. You gave him one last glance, noticing a vulnerability in him that you had never seen before. And in that moment, you realized your feelings for Mingi were starting to change.

The boy who once seemed like your greatest enemy had become your only source of security in a dangerous world. And though neither of you would admit it, something was growing between you—something neither of you knew how to handle amidst the darkness surrounding you.

The next day, Mingi promised himself not to interfere. But as the fights began, he couldn’t stop scanning the crowd for you. Not seeing you anywhere made him tense. If Jack found out you’d joined the fights again, he’d kill him—but what mattered most to Mingi was knowing where you were.

The matches dragged on, and he began to relax, thinking you wouldn’t show. But when the final winner was announced and the event was wrapping up, he saw a shadow cross the ring and step into the center.

“This isn’t over,” you declared loudly.

“Get off the ring, Lee!” someone shouted. “They’ll beat you up again!”

Mingi watched as a dark shadow crossed your face, and your eyes took on a hardened, almost menacing look.

“Why don’t you try it?” Everyone fell silent, shocked at your boldness. You’d always flown under the radar, but this was new—and it sparked curiosity in some “Or are you scared?”

The crowd erupted, people pushing and shoving to see who would step up to face you. Mingi tried to get to you, but the chaos of the crowd held him back.

Finally, someone stepped into the ring, facing you. You raised your fists, and he laughed before getting into position.

“You’re done for.”

“We’ll see.”

The bell rang, and the man lunged at you with speed. But you easily dodged him and drove your elbow into his side. He stumbled, turning to glare at you, realizing this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

Adrenaline coursed through your body. You were exhausted, your lungs begging for rest, but you couldn’t stop—not now. The man threw punches aimed at your face, and you dodged as best as you could. The crowd’s shouts blurred into the background as you focused entirely on the emotions spilling out with every strike.

Rage consumed you as you drove a punch into his face, your body moving on its own as you continued to rain blows on the unconscious man beneath you.

Hands pulled you away as the crowd erupted into cheers. You looked up and could barely make out your name being chanted amidst the chaos—you had won.

Mingi shoved his way through the throng, crossed the ring, and ran to you. You thought he was coming to congratulate you, but his furious expression said otherwise.

“Enough!” he shouted, his voice silencing the crowd instantly “This is over.” People protested, but Mingi didn’t back down “I said it’s over!”

Reluctantly, the crowd began to disperse. You turned to leave, but he grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hallways until you were alone in a room.

“Let me go,” you demanded, struggling against his grip.

He didn’t release you until he closed the door behind you both, shutting out the rest of the world.

“What were you thinking?” Mingi paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair “They could’ve hurt you or worse…” His voice was thick with anger and desperation, tinged with something that sounded like worry.

“But they didn’t.” He sighed and gave you a once-over, his gaze lingering on your bloodied hands. You quickly hid them behind you.

Mingi stepped closer, taking your hands into his. For a moment, it looked like it pained him to even look at them. Your knuckles were torn, and the pain was unbearable, though you refused to admit it.

“Let me help you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said firmly, guiding you to the bathroom and making you sit down. “Stay still.”

Without waiting for your permission, he grabbed a small first aid kit from a nearby shelf. His movements were deliberate but gentle as he cleaned your knuckles with a damp cloth. You shut your eyes, biting your lip to stifle a groan.

“This is going to sting,” he warned, pouring antiseptic over your wounds.

“Could you be gentler?” you hissed, pulling one hand back, but he caught it with ease.

“If you were more careful, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and the air between you felt charged with something that went beyond physical pain.

The silence stretched as he wrapped your hands in bandages. His fingers were surprisingly tender, and for a moment, you forgot the pain and exhaustion. His closeness overwhelmed you, the warmth of his skin sending your senses into overdrive.

“Mingi…” you began, but didn’t know how to finish.

“What?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied, his tone filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “Because if I don’t, who will?”

His gaze held yours, and something in his expression shifted. There was vulnerability, honesty, you’d never seen in him before.

Time seemed to freeze as his hand lingered on yours. His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second, and a wave of nervous energy swept through you.

“Mingi…”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and his lips brushed against yours. The kiss was hesitant at first, almost as if he were unsure. But when you didn’t pull away, it deepened, filled with a desperation that mirrored the chaos around you.

Your heart raced as you closed your eyes, letting the walls between you crumble entirely. His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and relief, as if this moment had been inevitable all along.

When he pulled back, you were both breathless. His gaze searched yours, and what you saw wasn’t his usual cocky demeanor but something raw and genuine. You didn’t know what to say, so you simply looked at him, letting the gravity of what had just happened settle between you. The world outside faded away, leaving only this fragile moment the first kiss in a place as dangerous as it was unexpected.

“No…” you said suddenly, breaking the atmosphere. “This…”

“Please, don’t say it.”

“Mingi, I…” you didn’t know what to do. You had never experienced anything like what you were feeling in your body. This was new and strange, and you were scared, unsure of what to do or say.

“Please, don’t push me away,” he pleaded, holding your waist and looking at you with eyes full of desperation.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, letting the tears well up in your eyes. Mingi hugged you, letting you sob into his chest as he gently stroked your back to comfort you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said softly. You looked up for a moment, and for the first time in your life, you let the walls around you crumble.

“Do you promise?”

“I will never leave you,” he assured you. His words struck you deeply, and you trusted him. You let his arms wrap around you, comforting you for the night, not knowing it wouldn’t be the only time he would do so.

*******

Time only made your feelings for Mingi grow. It became harder and harder to hide it from others, as being near him felt like standing on fire. Every glance, every slight touch from him made your heart race. Whenever you had the chance to be alone, Mingi would pin you against the wall, pressing his lips to yours, his hands wandering over your body. But you always stopped him when he tried to touch you beneath your clothes. He never insisted, and you were grateful for that, though deep inside, you wanted it too. Yet you were scared—it was something you'd never done before, and you feared it wouldn’t go right.

Mingi never let anyone get close to you. On the missions you shared, he was always by your side, never leaving you alone. Sometimes, when someone bothered you, Mingi made sure to put them in their place, even if it ended in a fight.

You knew this life wasn’t easy—it never was—but there were moments when it felt unbearable. Sometimes you wondered what you had done to deserve this. Sometimes you wished for an easier life, for loving parents, for school, to fall in love under different circumstances, to be a normal girl who could dress up in beautiful clothes without needing to hide to protect herself.

With tear-filled eyes and a heavy heart, your feet led you to Mingi’s room. You hesitated before knocking on his door but eventually did. A few seconds later, he stood in front of you, and without waiting for anything, you wrapped your arms around him, seeking the comforting warmth of his body.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I sleep with you?” you asked, knowing it was risky, knowing it was dangerous, but you had no other safe place to go. “Just for tonight,” you pleaded.

“Alright.”

You had only been in his room once before—the day everything began, that afternoon when he had tended to your wounds and shared that first kiss with you. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he closed the door.

“No.” With him, you had the chance to be honest, and you never held back from telling him the truth. “I’m tired.” Mingi hugged you tightly, trying to ease the weight from your body.

“Come here.”

You both lay down on the small bed, and you curled up against his chest. It was the first time you’d been this close, yet somehow, it felt as if you had done it a thousand times.

“Mingi,” you said, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. “If there were another life… do you think this would be different?”

His silence made your chest tighten slightly, but then his hand caressed your cheek with tender compassion.

“If there were another life, I wouldn’t care how it was, as long as I could be by your side.”

Without being able to help it, you pushed yourself up and kissed him, unloading all your sorrow into his mouth, all those thoughts you had you left on his lips for a moment, you didn't want to think about anything other than him. His kisses became desperate and hungry, you felt that intense heat on your body and his hands holding you tightly did nothing but want it. You separated from him for a moment and lifted your sweatshirt, but he stopped you.

“No… I don't want you to do this if you're not ready.”

“Mingi… I want to do it” you wanted him to touch you, you wanted his mouth to run over your skin and show yourself to him without any barrier, you wanted him to see you as you were. You took off your sweatshirt and Mingi looked down at the bandage that covered your breasts, you took a breath and began to take it off, a part of you felt relieved to take it off as you showed yourself as you were in front of him and a part of you was afraid.

When you finished your breathing was labored at the sight, Mingi had bitten his lip and seemed to be struggling with something inside of him. You took one of his hands and placed it on one of your breasts as you sat on his lap.

“Please… say something” you begged as you saw how he closed his eyes.

“You are beautiful,” he said before kissing you again.

That night they both gave more than their bodies, they put their hearts in their hands and gave it to the other, letting the moon be the only witness of their love.

*********

In all the times they had had a mission they had never failed, but this time everything seemed different, everyone was divided and the sound of sirens was heard getting closer, they couldn't get out of the place, they were surrounded and the bullets in their weapons had run out a while ago.

“Shit” Mingi growled at your side hiding “we will get out of this” he told you taking your hand without caring if anyone saw them.

The years had passed faster than you thought, but in that time neither of you hesitated to walk away from the other, even when Jack warned them about the rumors that ran through the gang, Mingi didn't care if they assumed things and neither did you, even so, they tried to be discreet and give themselves only in the shadows.

“I’m scared” you said with tears in your eyes

“Everything will be okay” a loud bang was heard and you both looked out just to see the opportunity to leave, someone had broken the glass of the door “okay, let’s go” he said without letting go of your hand heading to the exit, but before you could get there you felt a strong blow to the head that made you let go of his hand.

Mingi noticed immediately and lunged at the person who had hit you, you tried to get up, but everything was spinning and you felt something hot dripping down your forehead. You touched your head and were not surprised to see your hand red, you took a breath and tried to look for Mingi, but everything seemed to go slower and slower and the sound of sirens resonated in your ears at the same time as someone screamed.

“We have to go” “It’s too late” “They’re here” “Leave him”

You couldn’t bear the pain any longer and you closed your eyes for a moment. You wanted Mingi to take you in his arms, you wanted to feel the warmth of his body comforting you again and hear his voice telling you that everything would be okay, but all you could feel was the cold of the floor and the only thing you could feel was the unbearable pain in your head. You looked up for a moment and wanted to believe that what you saw was a bad dream, that it was just a figment of your imagination, but something inside you broke when you saw Mingi running away from you leaving you alone.

********

Five years had to pass before you could get out of prison, but those five years couldn't make you forget the day you opened your eyes and realized that you had lost everything again and you were alone again. The day Mingi decided to abandon you and leave you behind, that day remained engraved like ink on your skin all this time.

No matter how many times you repeated it and tried to make it less painful, it always felt like a million needles were stuck in your heart and crushed at the same time, it was a slow and raw pain that became more unbearable every second.

The day you got out of prison you looked at the sky as if it were the first time, you let the sun's rays penetrate your skin and warm your body. It was a little comforting to leave feeling like you could start from scratch. Life had given you a new opportunity and this time you wouldn't repeat the same mistakes of the past.

You walked through the streets, contemplating the city that once seemed huge to you, but over the years you got to know every alley, every sidewalk, every store in it. Without realizing it, you ended up somewhere you knew too well, maybe it was your subconscious or maybe it was because you had nowhere to go, but you decided to push the old worn door and enter anyway.

You were surprised that the old warehouse was still here, but seeing it empty and full of dust seemed strange to you. The place that was once your home now felt unknown, despite the bad times you spent here there were also many good ones. Every corner you passed brought back memories and you smiled sadly, the old jacket was still hanging and you felt a small knot remembering someone by your side teaching you how to fight, you looked away and walked every inch until you ended up in front of a door you knew well.

A part of you wanted to knock and hoped someone would open it like the first time you did, you wanted to meet someone, but you opened the door yourself only to find an empty room full of memories and dust. It hurt to be here, but you didn't know where to go.

You entered letting the memories flood over you and it was as if you were living them for the first time, that first kiss, that first night together and many others that followed, those endless hugs and the words he whispered to you to help you sleep. But all that had vanished, all that was in the past thanks to him.

You opened the window and looked at the buildings in the distance while the night fell and the city was flooded with dreams and unfulfilled hopes, you looked at the sky and contemplated the moon whispering your wishes knowing that it wouldn't hear you.

You woke up thanks to the sound of something falling and a bottle rolling on the floor followed by firm footsteps that ran through the place. You looked around for something to defend yourself with, but all you saw was the trash from the food you had stolen and the beer cans you had left abandoned in a corner over the days.

You slipped out of the room and walked towards where you had heard the noise, your heart pounding as you tried to hide in the shadows as you knew how. You peeked your head out and noticed the figure of a man curiously admiring the deformed drawing you had made with the dust the night before.

He seemed to sense your gaze as he looked up and let out a laugh.

“I know you’re there” you hid again and pressed your body against the cold wall, you thought of something, but nothing came to mind, you looked at the ground and the only thing you found were your fists, well, if you had to fight to escape you would do it, you had done it before, you should… “Lee”

That name paralyzed you, you felt like your heart stopped for a second and you peeked out again only to see Jack with his arms crossed when he saw your head peek out. You felt relief run through your body and you came out of your hiding place.

“Shit, you almost scared me to death”

“I’m glad to see you” he said showing a smile “you look… different” shame took over you knowing that he saw your long hair and that you showed your figure without hiding behind a sweatshirt

“How did you find me?” You asked suddenly, changing the subject

“I never stopped coming here hoping you would show up” you turned your gaze to the ground, you were glad to know that someone was waiting for you “when I find out what happened that day…”

“No… that doesn't matter” you interrupted him before he could continue “what have you come for?”

“I want to help you, you can join again and…”

“No, I'm not going back there again” Jack sighed, he looked tired

“Everything has changed, you know?” He dropped onto an old bench, kicking up some dust. “Many left since… we had to leave here and everything was much harder.” He ran his hand over his face as he remembered, you could tell he was having trouble speaking. “A new gang appeared and… we had to join them or we were finished. Many left, including Mingi.” His name made you a little uncomfortable, but you stood firm. “Little by little, the new gang grew and got involved in shady business, but we had no choice.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter, no one knew this would happen.” He stood up and took a step towards you. He looked at you tiredly and placed his hand on your shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you want, but if you need help, just call me.” He gave you a piece of paper with an address on it and left, leaving you in the dust and the weight of his words.

You thought you would never call him, but the weeks were getting harder and harder alone, stealing wasn’t enough anymore and even though this place was huge it wasn’t equipped to keep running.

You looked again at the crumpled paper you once threw away and wondered if (again) this wasn’t one of your bad decisions. When you got to the place you were surprised to see a small house on the outskirts of town, you expected an old warehouse again or maybe someone’s garage. With a little fear and holding your breath in your lungs you dared to knock on the door.

Jack smiled at you and let you in. He gave you new clothes and let you take a bath, he fed you well and you devoured every bite. You had never felt anything like this and now you knew why people lived so happily.

“So?” you asked leaving your fourth empty plate “if I join you what will I have to do?”

“It's easy” Jack said sitting in front of you “you'll just get paid”

“Wow, I didn't think I'd be Lee again”

“No” he interrupted you “this time it won't be Lee, it'll be you”

“But…”

“That doesn't matter”

A part of you knew that this would be more dangerous than before, you knew it sounded like a terrible idea and that it would be even worse, but you had no choice, you never had one, so you had no choice but to accept.

The days passed and Jack warned you that this would be dangerous, the people you would meet were very dangerous, that they belonged to some kind of mafia and that you should be prepared, he gave you a gun and although you had never used it to harm anyone the weight of having one was always comforting.

The day had arrived, Jack and you were inside a luxurious bar, you had never been in one and you were amazed by the bright lights and the music resonating in your ears, a part of you wanted to abandon everything and get lost among the people while having fun dancing, but you weren't here for that, you had a mission and you wouldn't let anything cloud your mind. Jack guided you through the hallways and approached you.

“It's the last door on the right” he told you before disappearing with a tall guy with a kind smile. Nerves ran through your body even though you had gone over the plan a thousand times before, but you never imagined being in this situation. The missions you had carried out had always been as 'Lee' but now you had left it behind, now Lee had been left in a place of the past and now you walked as the real you.

You entered that room with your head held high, with your heels clicking on the floor and with the loaded gun hidden in your leg, but none of that could prepare you for what you were going to find on the other side of the door.

It was a small room, with just a desk and two chairs, but the light was very dim, so much so that you could barely see the other person in front of you because of the thick smoke from the cigarette he was smoking, even so, you approached and sat in the empty chair that was in front of the desk.

The smoke parted like a curtain and left you both stunned when you saw the face of the person in front of you, he thought he would never see you again and you thought that the pain of that betrayal was behind you, but when you saw it all seemed to come back to you like a wave hitting your heart hard, everything you thought you had forgotten, all the feelings and memories came back to you when you recognized those eyes.

“I see you’ve been busy,” you said, trying to control your voice. Mingi stood up suddenly, it was as if he had seen a ghost and had stolen the words from him. “So much so that you seem to have forgotten me.”

“I never forgot you,” he suddenly replied. Just being here made you feel a lump in your throat with the millions of memories you spent together clouding your mind, but you never forgot the last moment.

“But you abandoned me.”

“What… what are you doing here?” he suddenly asked.

“I can ask you the same thing” Mingi stayed silent, the shock of seeing you still had him speechless “let me guess… you’re the one who’s going to give me the payment, aren’t you?”

“You… joined the gang again?”

“Deal with your own problems Song” you placed your hands on the desk a little irritated

“But why?”

“I don’t have time for you” you stood up annoyed, but the truth was that you couldn’t stand being in the same room with the guy who broke your heart “give me the payment and go back to your business”

Mingi shook his head and looked at you again, he noticed that you had long hair and the dress you were wearing highlighted the curves that you once hid, you looked very different, but he still knew that you were still the same.

“Let’s talk”

“No” you answered firmly taking out the gun “save it, your words are of no use to me now”

“Don’t do it” he pleaded when he saw you load the gun “you don’t even know how…”

You pulled the trigger aiming close to him making his words stay in his mouth.

“I won’t repeat it again Song… give me the payment”

Mingi let out a dry laugh knowing he had lost, he took out the money and placed it on the desk, you looked at him for a second and went for the money when he didn’t say anything, but he quickly took your hand, Mingi couldn’t let you go, not again. You tried to get away, but quickly between the fight and the struggle you were face to face.

“Let me go”

“No” you pointed the gun, but when you least expected it Mingi had snatched the gun from your hand, you no longer had anything to fight with, but that didn’t stop you from trying to do it.

“You never change” he said taking your hands in quick movements and imprisoning your body on the desk “you are still as stubborn as before”

“And you are still an idiot” you could not do anything, you could only look at him with resentment hoping that the weight of your gaze would do something to him.

Mingi was not going to hurt you, he only wanted to talk things over, but when he saw your eyes he knew that you were dragging bad memories from the past.

“I never forgot you” he repeated and somehow you felt that his words reached your heart.

You looked at him and realized the closeness that there was between the two of you, as if all the past that had existed between you had vanished and only this moment existed. He was very close and something inside you urged you to get closer to him, your heart was beating strongly and you wanted to feel more than a simple touch of his hands on your wrists, you still loved him, you always knew it.

“It still hurts” you said, holding back your tears and the urge to hug him. Mingi let go of your hands but didn’t move away “I can’t forget it so easily”

“So, let me help you” he came a little closer and you felt his breath on your lips for a second, you could have moved away, you could have pushed him away and left that room, but the truth was that you also wanted to forget the traces of the past.

His lips were just like you remembered, soft and delicate with a warmth you had never felt before. Mingi's hands ran down your arms to your hips and he held you by the back to bring you even closer. You separated for a moment and it was as if all the differences, thoughts and problems had disappeared in that simple kiss, his gaze was filled with a mixture of desire and pure longing.

“Mingi…” his name in your voice was like a spell for his body and he responded immediately waiting for your words, but there was nothing to say, you just wanted this, you wanted him.

You pushed yourself forward and held onto his neck as you brought your lips together again, your kisses were no longer slow, now they were just devouring each other, your tongues met and your teeth clashed because of the desperation and desire that seemed to overflow.

His hands held you tightly, as if he feared that at any moment you might fade away again, but each kiss felt more real than ever. Mingi contoured your figure and lifted the hem of your dress, you couldn't help but moan a little at the feeling of his fingers on your skin and he took the opportunity to grab your legs and climb onto the desk.

Your gazes met for an instant and you both knew what the other wanted. Mingi squeezed your thighs as he watched you take off the straps of your dress, leaving your breasts exposed. You noticed how he bit his lips, but at the same time he contemplated your body.

His mouth went straight to your neck and you let out a muffled moan at the feeling of his kisses, his hands went up your legs and slowly approached your core at the same time as his kisses now went down your collarbone and approached your chest.

When his fingers touched your pussy you arched your back from the sensation you had missed so much, without wasting time he began to move his fingers over the fabric letting your breathing slowly become agitated. You placed your hands behind you to lean on the desk and leave your chest at his mercy, with his other hand he took one of your breasts while his mouth captured your nipple.

You felt your body slowly sink into the whirlwind of sensations that Mingi caused you, you opened your legs to seek a little more pleasure and Mingi noticed it, you felt his smile on your skin and he looked up to see your pleading face.

“Do you want more?” you nodded desperately and he moved the fabric that separated your pussy from his fingers.

You let out a moan when his fingers ran over your wet core and touched your clitoris, he played with it for a moment turning it and pressing gently on it making you start to moan. You never took your eyes off him and you were struggling not to close your legs when a shiver ran through your body announcing your orgasm.

Mingi knew it and sank two of his fingers inside you, you let out a stifled sigh and held onto his shoulders when he began to move them in and out. You pulled him in for a kiss and he gladly accepted without stopping giving you pleasure, your hips began to move on their own looking for the highest point, your legs began to tremble and when you thought you had achieved it Mingi stopped.

“Not yet princess” you sobbed internally, but when he pulled his fingers out of you a strange mix of shame and excitement filled you inside as you watched him take them to his mouth and taste the trace of you left on him.

You placed your hands on his chest and began to unbutton his shirt, Mingi admired the way your hands shook a little, but you were determined to undress him. When you opened the shirt you admired his bare chest and ran your hands over his skin feeling every inch of his torso, you slid your hand down his abdomen and stopped for a second when you noticed the bulge in his pants.

You noticed his anxious and desperate look, you began to unbuckle his belt, but Mingi felt that you were too slow but that it was somehow a kind of torture. He took a slow breath trying to concentrate on not ripping his clothes off himself and let you continue at your pace.

You gently pressed his bulge when you pulled down his pants and heard him curse, you saw how his chest rose and fell faster and faster, but you continued just touching him above.

“Shit… stop playing with me” he begged through gritted teeth.

“It’s your punishment.” Mingi closed his eyes and sighed as he felt your hand touch him beneath his boxers. He felt you wrap around his girth and begin to massage him.

It was getting harder and harder for him to breathe and it was complete torture the way your thumb played with his sensitive tip. He grabbed your legs and brought you a little closer to the edge, he needed you right now, he wanted to have you and fill you, he couldn’t take it anymore and neither could you. You stopped as his cock began to twitch and smiled as you heard a frustrated sigh from him.

“I guess I deserve it” he said with a broken voice and you nodded when his forehead pressed against yours “but I can’t continue like this anymore” he confessed looking into your eyes “let me have you one more time”

“I’ve always been yours Mingi” your words moved his chest and he lowered your panties along with his boxers leaving the path clear between your bodies.

Your breathing mixed and you both moaned when he placed the tip of his cock over your entrance, you held onto his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin when he slowly sank into you.

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans saying Mingi's name. You were hugging his neck and Mingi's hands were holding your ass while his thrusts took you into a spiral of sensations. His mouth devoured your neck and his teeth left marks on your shoulders.

You didn't want this moment to stop, but when Mingi separated from you for a moment you felt empty. He lowered you from the desk only to turn you around making you show him your ass while he pressed your breasts against the wood. You turned your head to look at him, but you moaned when you felt him sink easily into your pussy.

Mingi grabbed your waist tightly and looked at your figure, he approached your body and your skin crawled when his mouth began to leave a trail of kisses all over your back. One of his hands slid down a little and squeezed your ass hard before giving you a spank that made you moan, his hand went inside your legs and touched your clit making you squirm under his body that pressed against yours.

“Mingi… I’m close” you warned, but he continued to touch you as his cock sank deeper and deeper inside making your body start to shake.

“Cum for me princess” his words in your ear gave you shivers and his thrusts mixed with his fingers on your clit seemed to be enough to make you let yourself go in the fog that was starting to take you to your orgasm.

You scratched the wood beneath you looking for something to hold on to as you let the knot in your belly come loose. Mingi gave a few more thrusts and sank in hard letting his load warm your insides. He kissed your back and then pulled away from you, watching his essence drip down your thighs.

He couldn't resist the urge to pick it up and sink his fingers into your sensitive pussy, you moved at his touch and pressed against his fingers that didn't let you spill anything.

"Stay like that, just a moment" he said admiring your body and seeing how a trace of him was left on your body.

After he helped you get dressed the atmosphere became tense again, it was obvious that you didn't want to leave that room and separate again, but Mingi couldn't have you with him, his job was dangerous and he didn't want to put you in danger, while he thought about what to do you finally decided to speak.

"I have to go, they're waiting for me" your voice came out broken and revealed that you didn't want to leave

"Will we see each other again?"

“I don’t know” Mingi took your hand so you wouldn’t leave and hugged you tightly, he didn’t want to let you go, not again.

When you looked at each other again thinking it would be a farewell a loud bang was heard outside. You looked at each other once and without thinking Mingi took your hand before opening the door and discovering what was happening.

There was a lot of smoke and you couldn’t see anything beyond you, but the screams of the people were not long in being heard. People began to run towards the exit, they didn’t know what had happened, but moving a little further they noticed a destroyed wall in a row, people were pushing each other to get out and everything was chaos.

It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of sirens and something inside you brought you back to the past. You were starting to get restless and wanted to get out of here, but Mingi squeezed your hand reminding you that you weren’t alone.

"I won't let you go again" he said before taking out his gun and walking through the crowd without letting go of you. They managed to get out and for the first time you felt relief when you looked at him, he hugged you tightly and knew it was what he had to do "I'm not leaving you, come with me, I'll protect you"

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but you knew Mingi was serious, he wouldn't let anything bad happen to you again so you just nodded as you shed tears and kept a new hope in your heart.

𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐾𝑆 𝐶𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝐵𝑌 ©𝐾𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑦𝟼𝑐𝘩𝑜𝑖 𝑀𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝐵𝐸 𝑃𝐿𝐴𝐺𝐼𝐴𝑅𝐼𝑍𝐸𝐷 𝑂𝑅 𝐶𝑂𝑃𝐼𝐸𝐷

tag: @londonbridges01 || @likeathunderoverflow

[ducksido]

How would the twst boys (anyone you think would be interesting) think about having a, “I follow my own tempo” s/o?

She doesn’t care about how other people perceive her, doesn’t follow trends, has a small circle of friends, and usually spends time in her own world doing whatever feels right. But she’s still respectful, helps out whenever she can, and cares about the feelings of people in her inner circle.

(I’m a sucker for this kind of character)

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts At first, he's so confused. Why aren’t you following the rules or trends like everyone else? But he quickly realizes you're not being rebellious—you’re just living life your way, and still kind and considerate. He ends up admiring your independence deeply. It helps him relax the reins a little and see the world isn’t so black and white.

Ace Trappola Finds it weirdly charming. You’re not trying to impress anyone, and he kind of loves that. You don't follow fads like he does, but it makes your rare compliments hit even harder. He teases you for being in your “own little zone” but respects how loyal you are to your people.

Deuce Spade He adores your grounded independence. You remind him of what he's striving to become—someone true to themselves, but still good to others. He watches you with awe when you help someone out of nowhere like it’s no big deal. You’re cool in a way he didn’t even know was possible.

Cater Diamond He's surprised at first—how are you okay with not being liked or followed? But then he realizes you're the realest person he knows. You don’t need a filter to be worth noticing. He starts relying on you as a quiet anchor when the noise of social media and popularity becomes too much.

Trey Clover Trey sees your calm and steady nature as incredibly mature. You help keep everyone grounded, and he genuinely appreciates how you only speak when you mean it. Your authenticity is something he respects deeply.

Savannaclaw

Leona Kingscholar He resonates with you hard. You do your own thing, don’t care for status games, and have that unshakable vibe—exactly his type. He doesn’t feel the need to impress you, which is freeing. You’re both lowkey, and he appreciates the rare moments where you pull him in to help others without expecting praise.

Ruggie Bucchi He thinks you’re so weird at first—but the good kind. You’re not chasing trends, and somehow you’re still cooler than the people who are. Your ability to just vibe through life and still care for your people makes him really soft around you. You help keep him grounded when his survival instincts flare up.

Jack Howl Jack deeply respects your authenticity. You live with integrity, and even though you don’t talk much about feelings, he feels your loyalty. It makes him trust you completely. He probably likes to just sit in companionable silence with you, no pressure to entertain or perform.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto At first, he finds your nonconformity... perplexing. Why aren’t you playing the social game? But over time, your honest intentions and steady nature win him over. He trusts your judgment more than most, and your presence eases his anxiety about needing to impress others.

Jade Leech He loves your pace. You're fascinating. Not necessarily because you’re flashy, but because you don’t need to be. He finds your way of existing incredibly peaceful, like a river flowing on its own path. He respects how intentional you are with your inner circle.

Floyd Leech “You’re weird... I like it.” He finds you amusing and refreshing. You’re not boring, but you also don’t force anything. He can be erratic and chaotic, and your chill energy makes you the perfect contrast. He calls you “Shrimpy Who Lives in Their Own World” and randomly joins you in it.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim At first, he's surprised by your mellow vibe compared to his high energy, but then he loves how calm you are. You don’t need a crowd—you just want to do what feels right. He learns a lot about slowing down and appreciating the moment from you. You’re a grounding force for his sunshine energy.

Jamil Viper He appreciates you more than you’ll ever know. You don’t expect anything from him other than honesty and peace. You don’t follow the crowd, and that’s exactly the kind of person he trusts. When you check in on him quietly, it hits deeper than a thousand loud gestures.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit Initially, he’s skeptical. You’re not trying to fit into societal ideals? But then... you don’t need to. You have your own aura, one that radiates self-possession without effort. That’s something even he envies. He comes to admire your authenticity and how your beauty lies in how unbothered you are.

Rook Hunt Absolutely enraptured. You're a mystery, a unique soul dancing to a rhythm no one else hears. He romanticizes the way you move through the world, and he finds your quiet care for your circle divine. He writes sonnets about your dreamy independence.

Epel Felmier Totally gets you. You remind him of home—people who don’t pretend to be anything but themselves. He respects that you're not fake, and it encourages him to stop putting on a show too. He thinks you’re way cooler than any trendsetter.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud Honestly? Relieved. You’re not judging him for his quirks, and you’re not trying to be popular. You live in your own world just like him, and that makes him feel safe. You understand each other in silence, and that quiet care you show your friends? He sees it, and it makes his heart go bloop.

Ortho Shroud He thinks you’re super cool! You’re unique in a way that he really admires, and he’s always curious about your personal projects or hobbies. He loves your loyalty to your friends and will 100% call you “an inspiring individual with independent algorithms!”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia You are ethereal to him. Your pace, your indifference to shallow things, your deep love for a select few... it speaks to him deeply. He feels like you understand his solitude without needing to fill it with noise. He cherishes every moment you let him into your world.

Lilia Vanrouge Lilia finds you adorable and wise beyond your years. You remind him of the old souls he used to know—those who didn’t rush, didn’t fake, and loved gently. He respects your way of living immensely, and he protects your peace like a dragon guards treasure.

Silver You’re like a quiet sunrise to him—steady, calming, warm. He relates to how you live in your own world, and your care for your circle makes him feel safe. You two probably just vibe in sleepy silence, with soft smiles and quiet trust.

Sebek Zigvolt At first? He’s FRUSTRATED. Why aren’t you trying to impress the great Malleus?! But then he sees how you act in private—how you treat Malleus with deep, quiet respect, and how loyal you are without grand gestures. His respect grows, even if he still grumbles about your “odd demeanor.”

[urfavleo777]

warnings: age gap, tattoo artist! colby x reader, alcohol

"Angel's wings!" your best friend exclaims, speaking completely seriously. Your other friend approves, clapping her hands eagerly. "Get them tattooed!"

You almost choke on your drink when you hear how seriously Katrina gives you a new idea for your first tattoo. If someone told you that friendship between three people doesn't exist, you would laugh at them. The three of you are living proof that it's not the number of people in the group that matters, but the love that exists between you. Each of you is different, but that is the most beautiful thing. There is nothing worse than boredom and monotony in friendship.

"Come on, you'll be eighteen in an hour. Do something that will make you happy, not your parents." Sophia, usually the voice of reason, tries to convince you.

You don't know if it's the alcohol you just drank, but in a split second you undergo an internal transformation. You'll be of age in an hour. No one will be able to lecture you. Even your parents who, instead of spending this birthday time with their daughter, decided to go to the mountains. At first you reacted with sadness, but over time you were glad that the situation had turned out this way because you could invite your two favorite girls over for the night.

Katrina and Sophia look at you with impatient eyes, encouraging you to make a quick decision. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back. As pathetic as it sounds, you try your hardest to get advice from the ceiling.

You look back at your waiting friends. They send drunken glances your way, which only reinforces the fact that you must probably look like one of them at this point. Sophia and Katarina's eyes widen. Something unexpected is about to happen; something that will change the course of history forever.

Katarina clenches her fists like a true boxing legend, preparing for the worst possible scenario. With each subsequent inhalation, you feel even more excitement and arousal wash over you. You open your mouth to announce the official verdict.

"If not now, never, right?"

After saying these words, you're crushed under the bodies of these two freaks. And, you swear to yourself that if your parents had been home, after all those squeals of happiness, you would have ended up under a bridge.

"The best decision you've ever made, Y/n! I'm so proud," Sophia squeals excitedly, and Katrina joins in. You realize that you still hold the glass in your hand. You hiss, knowing that you'll definitely need to change the sheets of your bed after tonight. "Don't worry about it! Let's go to the tattoo artist!"

"Now?" you keep mumbling under their bodies.

Katrina and Sophia step away from you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other. You are finally able to catch your breath, but you don't really understand what they're trying to tell you.

"Yes. Now." Sophia grins. "Katrina, are you thinking about the same person as me?"

The friend nods her head in response, also with a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah! The handsomest, hottest and most expensive tattoo artist in town," she starts counting and you wonder why you've never heard of him before. "Y/n, we guarantee you the best fucking fun."

"Let's fucking do this!" They both squeal, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the bed.

***

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to change clothes!"

You are wearing a black body suit and really low rise jeans so people on the street can see a bit of skin, which makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You look great." Sophia assures you and Katrina nods to her. Well, they're wearing perfectly balanced sweaters compared to you. They decided to make you the main star without outshining you with clothes. You feel like standing out of the crowd, which you don't like very much.

"Do you think this tattoo artist will accept us without prior consultation?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Maybe we should call him? We'd better get back home..."

"Relax, Y/n," you turn into a street you've probably never been to. Katrina tries to convince you, but with each step you take, you become less and less sure. Even though your parents have well-paid jobs, they usually don't let you hang around the rich districts. They would be disappointed if they knew that while they were away their daughter was getting a tattoo, not really knowing where.

"You said he was an expensive tattoo artist. I don't think I want to spend money this way." You continue, feeling the alcohol drain from you. You regain consciousness and regret saying yes to your friends. "Maybe we should really turn back?"

"Y/n," you stop in front of a building emanating LED light. The girls move closer to you and one of them puts a hand on your shoulder. Sophia, the fucking voice of reason, says: 

"He is my brother's friend. They have been friends since childhood. He practiced on my brother, making the first patterns. He would never take money from me or my friends. We are always out of line. Trust me, you're in good hands."

"He was the one who gave me that big tattoo you liked so much," finishes Katrina.

You sigh, trying to convince yourself first and foremost. Sophia pulls out her phone and brings it closer to your face.

The first thing that catches your eye are the huge white numbers on the screen. What's more, they don't seem blurry at all. You must be really sober. You take a deep breath, recalling the quote of your favorite teacher in your head.

12:00. Carpe diem.

 "It's time to go fucking crazy, Y/n." 

***

"Sophia? What's for today?" It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your friends, but you're trying to stay calm. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. Only after a while he notices that Sophia is not alone. "And who is this?"

"Hello, Colby. Meet Y/n, your new client." 

And the way he shakes your hand is firm but gentle, not as hard as you think it'd be given the size of his biceps probably are larger than your head. But then he softly grips your elbow and guides you into the chair with a hand on your back. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Well, I thought I would have to convince you.. longer."

You flush a little under his gaze because he's noticed how you're shaking like a leaf next to him. And the way he smiles indicates he might enjoy biting you anyways... and maybe you'd let him. 

"I was just about to close, but you know perfectly well that I will always make an exception for you, Sophia." Your friend smiles at his words.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he focuses all his attention on you. You swallow, not really knowing what to answer. Katrina decides to save your ass from total embarrassment.

"Angel's wings." 

He looks like he's about to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I can't count how many girls asked me for the exact same pattern. Try something more creative."

"I'd like to stick with the wings, please. In a place invisible to the eye."

"Getting a tattoo so you don't show it to anyone? How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen." He doesn't look convinced. With one movement of your hand, you pull your ID from your back pocket. Colby, as you can guess, surprised by the concrete, grabs the ID in his hand and looks at it carefully.

"She's so young." When he talks about you in the third person, something happens to you. "Are you sure you want those fucking wings?"

"Come on, Colby. You did this to my brother many times." Sophia interjects. "Don't ruin her birthday."

"Ah, yes. Happy birthday or something." You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice. 

"Thanks," you hang your head.

"We have to do something about her shyness." he turns to your friends.

"Maybe wings between her tits? I bet no girl has ever asked for this," suggests Katrina. You almost choke on your saliva. You want to get up from that chair and run out.

"That sounds perfect." His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. "What do you think, Y/n?"

"There's no way I'm going to show you my tits." You take courage. Colby laughs loudly. He clearly takes pleasure in your attitude and shakes his head, leaning in to watch you.

"It's your choice." You bite at your lip instead of answering him. 

"Come on, Y/n. We won't look either." Katrina says and Sophia nods.

You've already succumbed to them once in a while. Nothing will stop you from doing it again.

The girls send you their last kisses. After a while, it's just you and your tattoo artist left in the room.

***

You're honestly glad when the uncomfortable silence is drowned out by the song "Ultraviolence" by Lana Del Rey. You asked to simply turn on the radio, but you were surprised when Colby asked you for the title. What was even weirder was when he used the fucking vinyl of one of your favorite albums instead of Spotify.

He hums to himself. "Those are nice."

You got rid of your bra. No one has ever complimented your boobs, but you smile slightly, burying your face in your hands.

He gives you a little wink before stenciling what you had in mind, his fingertips tracing the lines of the ink that leaves goosebumps across your skin.

There's a lingering feeling as he pulls his hand back. You think he's toying with you. Frightful little thing, you are and here he is wanting to play with his pretty little client. Next thing you know, his hand is around your throat.

You tense and realize that he has moved some of your hair to the other side to give more access to the space between your tits. It definitely could have been done easier and better, but the twinkle in his eyes said he did it on purpose. Oh yes, he was definitely having fun with you. The way his hand barely grazed your throat and the side of your neck before he would gently scratch your arm with his blunt nails and pull away.

He let's out a huff of quiet laughter and then gets his tools ready. "So, y/n, you have a safeword?"

And you're brought out of your thoughts about his large hands because... "Huh?"

"A safeword. It's big."

W..what's big? You can't stop your eyes from flitting down to his thighs and what may lie between them. He laughs and shifts so your eyes are instantly back up and staring at his eyes that glimmer in amusement.

"The tattoo, I mean. It's a big piece. Need to know if it'll be too much, yeah?"

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to (or at least should) suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. As the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop (and his fall)...

.After the fire, Crowley drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Or even, for the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when Aziraphale doesn't react the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. For Heaven. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And so for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3 (to I assume) even out the scores. Or... to deserve Crowley. Some people also want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he has (so thoughtlessly) done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book, my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I...did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating as well, and by furiously (but quietly) trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel I get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck (Crowley's 'What's the point of it all' at the beginning of S2). I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, but I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying from then on.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spend the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. What happened to him. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink and cry, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen now.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? And why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought will happen if he survives this), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale? About his sadness?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. First of all, he was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they both BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress like Crowley does. He will learn to be more open, I'm sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, not at all. But asking how I am can only end up in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid, unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do). I think...this would probably work not just for someone who is grieving but also for someone who you know is dealing with depression for example or a serious illness etc. Edit 2. It's now almost (in 15 days) a year since my brother died. The random attacks of pain and grief have lessened and I have started to do more of the things I enjoyed before... and I am able to answer how are you questions without feeling like they are trying to mock me (the questions, not the people). So I suppose things do get ... lighter? More diffused? I'm not sure. Because it's still exactly as unfair that my brother has not lived this past year as it will be however many years I will be here without him I expect.

[engie-ivy]

884 words

If high-profile power couple Remus Lupin and Sirius Black will spend the holidays apart from each other, the tabloids are going to be filled with stories of their Christmas break-up. But Remus can't take Sirius home for Christmas if they're not real.

Can We Make It To Christmas?

Make It To Christmas - Alessia Cara

“We had a deal.”

It's hard to say which is more intimidating, Regulus’ icy stare or Lily's fiery gaze.

“We did have a deal,” Lily replies. “And Sirius’ new album has gotten quite some extra publicity due to his supposed involvement with Remus.”

“And so has Remus’ new play,” Regulus replies cooly. “I'm not denying that so far they've both been profiting off of their highly publicized ‘relationship’. But all the positive publicity will certainly be overshadowed by a break-up right before Christmas.”

Lily crosses her arms over her chest. “The deal also included that in case one of the parties so wished, a break-up would be staged.”

“A clean, mutual break-up with as little publicity as possible,” Regulus says. “If they suddenly spend Christmas apart, all the tabloids will be filled with speculations, insinuations and fabrications!”

Remus is sitting quietly on his chair as Lily argues on his behalf with Sirius’ brother and manager. Sirius himself is sitting across from him, also not saying much, but staring at Remus intently, trying to catch his eye, with that intense, bright-eyed gaze.

But Remus can't look at him. He's afraid that the look in his eyes will betray too much of his emotions.

“Remus,” Lily interrupts his thoughts.

Remus looks up at his best friend and manager.

“I hate to admit it,” Lily says. “But Regulus has a point. If you and Sirius don't spend Christmas together, the tabloids will have a field day making up stories of how you broke up just before Christmas. A messy Christmas break-up is the last thing that we need right now.” She looks at Remus pleadingly. “Can you really not take Sirius home for Christmas?”

“I would take you home to my family,” Sirius speaks up with a wry smile. “But I'm not even welcome there myself.”

Remus shakes his head. “I can't. I'm sorry. I can't.”

“Do your parents dislike my music?” Sirius asks. “Even if I'm usually always singing or playing my guitar, I can go without for a week. I won't sing a single song or play a single note.”

“Sirius, they don't…”

“Is it me then?” Sirius presses. “Do you think your parents won't like me?”

“That's not…”

“Because I know I can be a lot! But I don't have to be. I can be more quiet, more reserved. I can be anything you want me to-”

“You're perfect!” Remus blurts out.

Sirius closes his mouth and blinks.

“Please, Sirius, don't ever think you need to change anything about yourself for anyone. My parents would absolutely love you. But I can't. I can't take you home for Christmas.”

“Why not?” Sirius asks softly.

Remus shakes his head. “I just can't do it. I can't bring someone home, introduce them to my mum and dad, spend the holidays all together. Not if it's not…” Remus swallows. “If it's not real.” He looks at Regulus and Lily, still unable to look Sirius in the eye. “I'm sorry.” He gets up and leaves the room.

Remus saw the paparazzi at his home, he knows they tracked his car, and he's wholly unsurprised to see a swarm of reporters already waiting at the train station.

“Remus Lupin! Why are you and Sirius Black not spending the holidays together?”

“Mr Lupin, does this mean you and Mr Black are officially over?”

“Remus, why did you dump Sirius right before Christmas?”

“Lupin, how does it feel to spend the holidays newly single?”

“Remus, Remus! Is it true you are now involved with someone from your hometown?”

“Remus Lupin, what's it like to be alone for the most romantic time of the year?”

“Remus!”

Remus freezes. Because he knows that voice, and that's neither a reporter nor one of his fans calling his name. He turns around. “Sirius?”

Sirius stops in front of him, out of breath like he ran a long way.

The people around them buzz with excitement as they recognize the person stopping in front of Remus and cameras flash, but Remus hardly notices. “What are you doing here?”

“You…” Sirius has to catch his breath for a moment. “You said I was perfect.”

Remus can't help but laugh. “That can't be the first time you've heard that. There are whole communities online dedicated solely to how perfect people think you are.”

Sirius shakes his head. “You've seen me, seen every part of me, and you still think I'm perfect.”

Remus looks away, because what is he even supposed to say to that?

“Take me home for Christmas,” Sirius suddenly says.

Remus’ eyes snap back to Sirius’ face. “Sirius, I already told you. I can't. Not of it's not-”

“We're real,” Sirius interrupts. “Remus, why don't we stop pretending we're only pretending? We're real. I know it and you know it too.”

Remus' breath halts as he stares at Sirius.

Sirius takes a few steps forward and places a hand on Remus’ cheek. He slowly moves forward and presses their lips together in a kiss. Not one of the fake kisses they've staged for the tabloids, but a real kiss.

Sirius pulls back slightly, but he stays close as he searches Remus’ face.

This time, Remus doesn't look away, and the emotions he was so afraid Sirius would see are reflected back to him.

“We're real,” Remus whispers.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Hcs for how each of the boys to react to "I'm pregnant"?

Any of them that you want to write for :)

So excited

English not my first language. Sorry

Van Der Linde Gang's Boys' Reactions To "I'm pregnant" (And Eagle Flies)

Hehehe this was so cute and also I didn't edit this ❤️

Warnings: none

Arthur Morgan

He'd be so fucking happy

Probably in disbelief at first but oh my God he'd be overjoyed

Ask you if you're serious over and over

Once he's convinced he's gonna ask all these questions about your physical and mental wellbeing

Celebrates with you (whatever that entails wink wink)

In his elated haze he's gonna wanna ask all these questions about your future together as parents

Is aware the gang ain't the best place to raise a kid but he'll reassure you that you'll have the whole gangs support

John Marston

Oh god

Let's just say he wouldn't be the most elated parent 😭💀

He's already got Jack and now he needs to take care of another?

If this were a revelation that came earlier in the game he's gonna be very irresponsible but I feel like he wouldn't deny that the kid was his

So at that point he's sort of forced to actually give a damn about him

And believe me he'd try but he wouldn't be the best at it, would need guidance

If this came later in the game like epilogue he'd probably be WAY more happier.

Your lives are finally settled and you can afford to have a kid

He'd be the happiest and more supportive husband and dad

Still wouldn't be sure about all the ropes but he'd try

Dutch Van Der Linde

He'd be SO happy

Like genuinely he'd shower you with gifts and praise and reassurance

I feel like part of it would be a power thing for him because not only can he lead a gang, but now he can lead a family

Also some sort of weird power symbol for him. Idk how, but it is

Wouldn't let you lift a finger

Would probably keep you in his tent to rest 24/7 and only allows a few people (Grimshaw, Hosea) to see you

He's going to hope and pray it's a boy

Charles Smith

HE'D BE IN SO MUCH SHOCK AND FEEL SM HAPPINESS IT'D BE SO CUTE

You sorta have to repeat the news to him a few times for him to fully absorb it

Literally a dream of his to start a family one day so now that he has it he's ecstatic

Probably incentive to leave the gang though, doesn't want his child growing up in that environment

Would prefer if you sit back and rest but won't hold you back if you don't want to

Javier Escuella

This is cause to celebrate

Takes you into town on a date

Offers you massages, foot rubs, hand massages

Sings to you to calm you

Holds your hair when you throw up (true love)

Buys you clothes to accomodate to your changing body

Kieran Duffy

THE SWEETEST REACTION

I feel like he'd start crying

Asks to touch your belly and would speak to it

That night he'd fall asleep while holding it

Wakes up the next morning and remembers you're pregnant and his day is already off to an amazing start

Get drunk while celebrating it and he'd boast to everyone about how he's gonna be a dad

Sean Macguire

He'd say some stupid shit I already know it

Probably crack a sex joke

He's getting stupid, fucking drunk. I'm talking black out

He's probably gonna wanna celebrate if you catch my drift HAHAHA

He'd forget to be gentle sometimes out of excitement, like carrying you around and cheering

Refuses to let you do any work

In private I feel like he'd cry

Lenny Summers

He'd probably panic a bit at first

Ask all these questions about how you guys are gonna be parents and if you're even ready

Once the two of you talk through it a little more he'll calm down and his nerves turn to excitement

I'm assuming y'all would be real young so he'd seek for a lot of guidance in the others

Constantly asks you questions about what you want and need

Bill Williamson

He'd be so flustered and nervous

Probably in disbelief for a while and asks if you're serious

I wouldn't blame you for thinking he's upset with the news at first

But he just needs time to process how his life's about to change!

He becomes even more gentle with you, more than he already is

Will argue with Miss Grimshaw about letting you rest/lightening your work load

And let's be real, she would lower your work load but he'd insist it stops altogether

Micah Bell

He'd be in disbelief, but bad disbelief

That or the sleaziest reaction

I'm leaning more towards sleazy reaction

Talks about how he's gonna raise the bravest kid and he's constantly gonna reference to the kid as he because I'm convinced he wants a boy

Brags to the others

Don't get me wrong the gang's happy for you but the way Micah uses it as a point of elevation is IRRITATING

Hosea Matthews

He's the cutest like seriously

He'd be sooo happy

Probably in disbelief that he even managed to get you pregnant

I believe he'd cry, and openly, he's not ashamed! He's happy!

Announces it to the whole gang, means for celebration

Takes you on dates to buy cute little baby items ahhh

Eagle Flies

HE'D FREAK THE FUCK OUT

Pace around the room asking if you're for real, contemplates his entire life, curses himself for cumming inside

You'd have to calm him down and talk him through it

It'd be a super emotional moment for the two of you, eventually he'd realize he's fine with the idea of kids and he's just nervous!

Would ask his dad and a lot of tribe members for advice

Over time he'd get way more excited and bring up the topic more often

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

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[astroboots]

Omg please continue with the Miguel fang prompt!!! It’s too cruel to stop there!!!!!

HIDE AND SEEK

Summary: Miguel and you plays hide and seek.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Content: Hunter predator kink (I think that's what we're calling it?) anyway explicit. Miguel is a bit rough.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

It's all too easy to get lost in the crowd in a city as crowded as New York. You slip in among a throng of tourist standing around like a flock of pecking hens, their faces dipped down at their phones, huddled over google maps as they try to figure out how to get to Broadway as if it's not within goddamn walking distance, right down the street.

In a nervous habit, you fiddle with the watch on your wrist. Your eyes flick over the bright light that tells you it's 11:28pm.

Which means, there's still 32 minutes left.

God this is the slowest hour you've ever lived through in your life.

You squeeze yourself in the back, behind a woman with a large hat and larger sunglasses, even though it's evening and the sky is near black. The only things left illuminating the sky now is glaring shop signs, aggressive LED lights, and the mega-spectacular ads display that is brighter than the goddamn sun.

Peering over the madness of the crowd, you try to spot the familiar sight of his all too recognizable build looming over everyone else.

But there's nothing.

He's not here. You let out a long held in breath, your chest sagging with relief. Of course he wouldn't be here.

Times Square has over 300,000 visitors passing through every day. 300,000 sweaty, exhausted individuals drenched in perfume and deodorant that would make it impossible to pick up your scent. Thousands of people speaking all at once, over the angry noise of honking traffic that would make it impossible, even for him, to pick up the sound of your distinct footfall.

No, He won't be able to catch you here. That's why you came here after all.

You glance down at your watch again. 11:31.

Shit! How has only three minutes gone by?

Shaking your head, you look up at the sea of people.

You'd better get moving. Even in a crowd, if you stay still for too long, it won't be safe.

Walking briskly down the wide street, it's a struggle to squeeze through the ever moving crowd as the glaring lights change from makeup ads to theater marquees. You're peering over your shoulder with every three steps you take, constantly expecting the familiar sight of his messy curls to peek out a foot above the crowd.

He's so damn tall there's no fucking way you'll miss him if he's found you. You'll get plenty of advance warning, you reassure yourself as you continue to move forward.

Your eyes settle over your watch again.

11:46. Fuck you sideways.

You know you shouldn't keep checking it every two seconds like this, because all it serves to do, is to ratchet up your blood pressure so high you're going to need to start taking medication for it.

How is time moving so slow. You shake your head in exasperation, and for a fraction of a second you swear you see it.

A flash of unmissable dark navy glowing with red.

You freeze. Your back feels like ice, cold damp sweat breaking out along your spine. You snap your eyes back but there's nothing there now. Nothing but an anonymous crowd.

What the-- How could he have just disappeared into thin air?

He's 6 feet and fucking 9 inches. Taller than your refrigerator back in your tiny studio apartment. The top of his head beats out your fucking Christmas tree. If he was here, he'd be impossible to miss. You don't fucking miss a giraffe when you visit the Brooklyn Zoo, so why are you having such a fucking hard time spotting him? How the fuck does he move so inconspicuously?

Was it just your imagination?

You glance at your watch: 11:46. Gotta be kidding. Is time standing still now? Has it just decided to stop moving altogether?

You force yourself to step forward and ignore how your knees seems to cave at your own weight as you sink into the pavement with every step.

In the corner of your eyes you spot him. Clearly this time. Real. Not a figment of your imagination. He's only a few steps away from you. The familiar pair of glowing scarlet eyes fixed on you.

Oh fuck, shit. Shit! Your heart races at the sight, beating so hard you think you feel it in your lungs. You're already sprinting in the opposite direction without thought and the only thing guiding you is the pure impulse to escape.

You push through the crowd, sprinting forward without taking in your surroundings. All you care about is to get away as your gaze is fixed on your watch.

11:52. Eight more minutes. You just need to stay away for eight more minutes.

You keep running as the crowd seems to thin, and the colorful lights and noise of traffic fades away. Then you finally stop, catching your breath to look up at your surroundings.

It's empty and void of people. A large empty van is blocking the narrow alley from view of the main street, and there's an unlocked gate that you've come through.

On the other side from where you've come from there's a tall bricked up wall as far as the eye can see-- a dead end.

How the fuck did you manage to find the only deserted dead end alleyway in central New York?

Shit you need to get out of here, you won't be able to run away if you're trapped here.

You glance one more time at your watch.

11:57. Three minutes. 180 seconds. It's all you need and then you'll win.

You turn your heel back towards the gate. But it's too late.

The dim light of the alley is eaten up by a large and imposing shadow.

He's already here.

The familiar navy blue and the menacing red sprawled across his chest fills your vision, blocking your only path to escape. All you see is red eyes glowing so bright it lights up the dark alley with it.

"Time's up," he says, mouth curled into a mocking smile so wide that you can see his fangs peek out from his upper lip.

That's when you realize you are well and fully trapped like the helpless prey you are in his spider's web. You're right where he wants you.

God you're so damn stupid. You were safe in the crowd. But one sight of him had you spooked and running into the only alley to be found in all of New York.

Shit.

He'd planned this all along. The bastard's must've been the one who opened the gate. And you had ran in here like some scared witless rabbit straight into his trap.

You could try to escape him. Some vain, silly leftover pride in you, is adamant that you still have at least two whole minutes to get away.

He steps closer, and you can't help but instinctively step back as he does.

You know it's a game. Know that he would never hurt you, but that hungry and predatory red glow in his eyes has fear spiking along your spine all the same.

"Miguel, wai--"

The rest of your futile plea dies in your throat. His broad palm covers your mouth and jaw, and even your startled squeak is muffled into silence as he presses you up against the wall.

You whimper into his hand, but he doesn't relent. Doesn't ease up, even as he leans down and hushes you. Despite the soothing tone he uses with you, it isn't comforting at all. It drips with condescension as he press his lips to your bare throat.

"I'm gonna take my prize now, nena," he murmurs into your skin and because your brain is broken, with no sense for survival instincts, every part of you tingles at the amused threat in his voice.

"You promised remembered?" He reminds you.

And of course you do. It's hard not to, when the bastard's got you pinned against a brick wall in an abandoned alley like something out of a horror movie.

Fuck. He's taken this way too seriously. You don't know why you had suggested the world's dumbest hide and seek with this competitive and unreasonable man.

He presses you into the hard brick behind you, like there's anywhere left for you to go. And you can feel it. The proof of his excitement pressing up against your stomach, pinning you against the wall. He's hard.

Any residual resentment at your loss gives way for excitement when you feel his cock twitch and jerk against you.

The edge of his teeth rests on your bare shoulder as goosebumps breaks across your skin, and you feel dizzy. Anticipation swirls in your stomach with an intoxicating warmth.

You can't fucking breathe.

His hand snakes up your dress, wedging your panties to the side, until you can hear the fabric rip and tear. Shit, you're going to kill him for that.

The thick head of his cock presses in and stretches you open, as he forces his way inside of you, in time with his sharp and whetted fangs sinking into your flesh. Electricity pings across your nerves, sweet and euphoric and you feel drunk with it.

He's filling you, inch by hard and relentless inch, until you swear you can feel him lodged in your stomach. You feel so fucking full. Full of Miguel until nothing else fits anymore, but he doesn't stop.

His cock nudges along an impossibly deep spot inside you that has you losing orientation and makes the space around you spin, and he's still not fully inside.

White blinding pleasure streaks through your every nerve and crowds your vision, as he sinks you down further on him, until your vision goes blank. He's so fucking big. Always is no matter how many times you take him like this.

Pleasure pool with heat in your stomach as he holds you in place, impaled on the thickness of him.

Your limbs go boneless, unable to hold up your own weight, and for a moment you're not sure if that's the venom released to your bloodstream or just the effect he has on you. You only remain upright because he's propping you up with his body.

His mouth skims along your throat, dragging his teeth up until his fangs tease along the shell of your ear, with the threat of sharpness. The edge of them barely graze your skin, completely unlike the feral impatience he'd sunk into you with, as he whispers into your ear.

"Found you, Nena."

Dedication and credits: This piece is dedicated to @foxilayde for her completely deranged (and amazing) post that had me SALIVATING. Thank you for putting this brainworm into my head. I am shooketh.

[pumpumdemsugah]

Racism would be easier if white people thought we were human like them, but they think their experiences are deeper than ours, and we're crude beasts, so know better. I still can't believe a white Polish person who literally struggles speaking English had the arrogance to tell me what Black women experience. I tell them that a Black woman was kicked out of women's toilets because she's a gender non-conforming lesbian and the experience of misgendering isn't a core part of the Black female experience so insisting it is isnt accurate and these prick points to a fucking meme. My Black ass words meant that little

People on social media just love to lie and not engage with history to the point this white Polish person who can not speak English well tells me I don't understand. You people are far too comfortable mentioning us because we're objects and not people. For years I keep saying the way people bring up Black women and (white) trans women stinks of racial entitlement and not solidarity and people are purposefully misinterpreting Black history to paint the dehumanisation of Black people as a gender issue identitical to trans people when it was a racial caste system where white people debated if Black people could feel pain, learn, had souls or if it was possible to impregnate mixed race Black people because they saw them like infertile mules.

When H&M had that campaign that included a white trans woman that used to be on here and a female body builder and I found out a female body builder who's Black was being harassed. All I saw were people gloating she's being harassed and not the skinny white trans woman. No care or sympathy for this woman. It's then I knew Black women are fodder for these people and don't actually care about how Black women experience stuff.

We've come to a point where you need to tell white lefty people everything that happens to us isn't because we're Black. White people don't own other human experiences and oppression. The fact Serena Williams gets harassed for how she looks and her sister Venus doesn't its clear as day it's not simply because she's Black and dark skin and you're not engaging with why people love to attack her but we're not going to do that because insisting Black women get misgendered for being Black women and no other reasons like being butch or muscular helps suburbanite white transpeople feel less ugly and that's the most important thing in the world. Who fucking cares why anything happens to Black women or what happened during chattel slavery, we can make shit up as long as we threw the Black women a bone and say they're oppressed even if you talk about it inaccurately on purpose

I'll always bring up the fit white trans women threw when Black women told them not to use Say her name. Everything we do is for them, and we don't get to have anything about our own experiences. That's what solidarity is. How does it benefit other people and you can never criticise them because it makes them feel bad and can't come up with their own shit

People like talking about the racism from different groups of oppressed white people and skip over the deep levels of entitlement from white trans people cause they bring up the Blacks as a shield.