#But trying to work out how to respond to like

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ old habits

➤ summary: you call Rafe out when he acts disrespectfully

➤ w/c: 1.5k.

➤ warnings: themes of toxic masculinity, emotional confrontation

➤ a/n: really wanted to be a part of @zyafics campaign, and I hope that other writers will consider doing it too <3

masterlist

The thing between you and Rafe was still new and fresh—only a few times going out on dates, lingering touches, and way too many moments that were more than just friendly.

Since the first time you had met him, you thought that he had grown to be a better person. He tried to change some of his old habits to become more mature. And you truly saw that, and it was a reason why you even started to catch feelings. But there were still times when he struggled, when some of the traits of that old toxic Rafe were slipping through, either because it was too hard to control things that he had been taught from a young age or because he truly didn’t see himself being in the wrong. 

That day he invited you to the new cafe near the beach on the mainland, saying that it was the best one. For you, Rafe was a gentleman. He picked you up, helped you to get in and out of his truck, complimented your dress and your hair, and let you hold his upper arm when he was leading you to the entrance.

He opened the door for you, and the place was dimly lit with yellow tones and just radiated warmth. It was a little bit too loud with people sitting everywhere, but if the place was good, you didn’t mind that one bit. You looked back at Rafe, sharing a smile, until the young hostess stepped in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry, but as you may see, we’re full right now. You may sit here until one of the tables is free.” With a polite smile, she gestured to the side. “The waiting time will be around fifteen to twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.” 

You nodded to her words without hesitation. “That’s totally fine.” 

But beside you, Rafe let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh, more like a scoff. He raised an eyebrow and looked the girl up and down with something colder in his expression than you would’ve preferred.

“You’re telling me you can’t fit two people in? It’s not even full in here.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, briefly looking at you to figure out how to react. Rafe’s voice wasn’t loud, but you knew how intimidating and cold he might be, especially to people who were not used to it.

“Rafe.” You said his name sharply, tugging his bicep once in hope that he would let it go. 

He glanced at you, then back at the hostess, not getting the problem that you seemed to have. “We’re literally standing here, dressed nicely, just asking for a table. I’m not trying to be a dick. I'm just saying, you could make it work if you actually wanted to.” You didn’t wait for her to respond. You took a step back, slowly removing your hand from his arm.

“I’ll be outside.” You said. No emotion in your voice, hands already folded across your chest. 

You sat at the bench outside, one leg thrown over another, looking at the ocean and debating just simply going back home. Rafe walked out a few minutes later, with hands buried in the pockets of his pants, looking at you like he genuinely could not understand your behavior. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.” You said calmly, not even sparing him a glance. 

“For what? I didn’t even say anything bad. She was the one who couldn’t do her job properly.”

Your head snapped towards him with eyebrows raised in surprise. “No.” You said sharply, taking him aback. “You were being an asshole because you didn’t get what you wanted. She was doing her job, Rafe.” 

His brows knit. “Jesus, I wasn’t an asshole—I was just calling her out.”

“Calling her out for what, Rafe? For not breaking policy? For not giving you special treatment?” He looked away, jaw clenching. His hand reached his head to rub over his buzzed hair in frustration, while you simply looked at him, seeing the conflict that he had. Part of him clearly knew you were being reasonable, that he might’ve stepped over the line, but the rest of him, the louder part, wanted to be right. Wanted to win.

“I’m not dating someone who thinks talking down to people makes him important.” You said firmly, your voice low and calm but hard to let him know how serious that situation was for you. “That’s not cute. That doesn’t make you look cooler or whatever. That’s not something I tolerate.”

Rafe exhaled hard through his nose, briefly throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re making it sound like I screamed at her or something. I was just—I don’t know—frustrated.”

“Yeah, and she was working. Probably scared of losing her job because of kooks who talk down to her every day. Probably already dealing with a bunch of other men who think that they are better than everyone and that other people owe them something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

You stood up, stepping closer with your heels softly clicking against the wood. You squinted your eyes slightly, tilting your head to the side now that you were almost the same height. “Do what?”

“Make me out to be some kind of monster.”

“I’m not.” You shot back. “But if you don’t like how I make you sound by just talking about your actions, maybe ask yourself why instead of getting defensive.”

The silence that followed stretched long between you. You crossed your arms tighter, mostly to keep yourself from softening, because, God, you wanted to. Because part of you knew that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but still addressing the problem was important to prove to him that the said problem existed. 

You watched the gears turning behind his eyes, jaw tight, hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked off toward the ocean like maybe the answer was out there, like it could help him to understand how to break the default settings that were engraved in his brain. 

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Rafe admitted finally, his voice quieter now, and you could hear the edge of hesitation. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it. That I was acting like…” He trailed off, and you knew what he meant. Like Ward.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.” You said softer now, but still steady. “You don’t even notice when you slip. I know that you’re trying to be better. I see it, but I also need you to acknowledge that sometimes you can still be mean, that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Otherwise we won’t work out.”

He looked at you then, as if hurt for a second, because for the part of him, it sounded like a threat or like a challenge that he didn’t want to accept.

“I don’t want to be that guy.” He said after a moment. “I’ve been trying. You know I have.”

“I know. That’s why I’m still standing here and not leaving.” You stepped closer, but you didn’t reach for him.

“But I’m not going to coach you through being a decent person every time you slip. You have to want it for yourself, not just to keep me happy, because I’m telling you right now, Rafe…” You met his eyes, staying your ground. “If that’s the man you choose to be, I will walk away. Even if I don’t want to.”

His throat bobbed in a nervous swallow, his eyes darted away, then back to yours, as if he was trying to measure if you were bluffing. And when a few seconds passed, when you looked at him steadily, waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back toward the café.

You watched him through the front windows when he hesitated near the hostess stand, tugging awkwardly at the expensive watch on his wrist, and then leaned in to speak to the girl. Her face was surprised at first, then softened as he continued to talk, before she nodded a few times, still slightly hesitant, and said something back to him. 

When Rafe returned back to you, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little bit, though his jaw clenched when he rubbed the back of his neck and stopped in front of you like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“I apologized. Told her I was out of line.”

You gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

He shifted on his feet, nervous. “She said the table will be ready in ten.” You nodded again, waiting for him to continue. “You still wanna eat with me?” He asked, almost hesitant, like a boy who'd just been scolded.

“I do.” His lips stretched in a small smile, eyes glimmering with something like surprise and maybe a bit of shyness that you caught every once in a while. Rafe stepped closer, offering you his hand, and you playfully rolled your eyes, smiling back and interlacing your fingers. “Now I’m about to order the whole damn menu, Cameron. And it better be good.” 

[kdh-tally]

Baby x Reader Headcannons

Prompt : Headcannons of Baby and his Partner.

Author's Note : I might do one of these for each of the Saja Boys and Huntr/x girls. I started with Baby though because he currently has no pairing (and is actually my favourite Saja Boy lol)

You work at a small convenience store somewhere in the Hongdae shopping district. 

Your store is close to one of the popular schools but it’s small so most don’t even notice that there was an actual convenience store there.

One day the bell chimed, alerting you that someone came in.

You looked up from your phone only to come face to face with some cat eyed, blue haired boy. He looked familiar. Kinda like one of the boys on the ramen cups that were flying off shelves (when people actually came into the store).

“Welcome to Y/N’s convenience, what can I get you?”

He tilts his head, as though studying you, and all of a sudden you feel self conscious.

“You have anything spicy here?”

Your eyes widen noticeably in surprise. You didn’t expect his voice to be so deep or rough, especially when he had such a baby face.

Clearing your thoughts, you motioned to the back shelves with your head. “There should be some stuff back there. If you need help don’t be afraid to ask” you nodded before sending him off and leaning back into your seat.

As you opened your social media account, the very first video that popped up had the guy's face on it. “Join the pride,” he smirked at the camera as he stood next to a group of 4 other guys. 

Before you could look into it even more, the guy slammed a thick bottle of jalapeno sauce on the counter. You began to ring him up when he asked, “You wanna hang out?”.

Baby definitely came back the next day and every day after. 

He'd pretend to try new spicy combos, but really he's just standing in the ramen aisle waiting for you to notice him.

When you ask, “Didn’t you come in yesterday?” he just shrugs and responds, “I missed the vibe.”

You didn’t say it out loud, but you fixed your hair the next day before your shift.

He ends up really enjoying your presence, and really enjoying how much he can annoy you.

He’ll “accidentally” knock over the chip display just to hear you sigh and call him a menace.

Would bring you random drinks to “taste test” but makes you guess which is which by sniffing them. 

It was something he had tried on Mystery back in the dorms when Jinu was busy yapping to them about how they would be defeating the hunters. 

He eventually earns what he likes calling ‘behind the counter’ privileges. 

Basically means you allow him into the workers area, and behind the cash register so he doesn’t have to talk to you from across the counter.

He doesn’t do much working though. Mainly just watched youtube on his Ipad.

He always acts like you’re the one flirting with him. 

If you ever blush around him, he has his hands up as though surrendering or calming a rabid animal. “Woah, relax. I’m just here for the spicy chips.”

He calls you “Cashier-nim” for the first two weeks of knowing you, then switches to “pretty thing” whenever he feels like teasing you.

The day you finally found out he was actually THE Baby from Saja Boys, you were mid-bite of your snack and almost choked.

“Wait. You’re famous?”

“Duh.”

“Why are you HERE?”

“You’re here.” he says deadpan.

He once livestreamed from the store without telling you, and suddenly you had a line out the door and business took off.

He likes that you didn’t fangirl or scream when you found out. It makes him feel like a real person.

He also likes how calmly human you are. You’re one of the few that don’t go crazy because of his idol image but also don’t want to kill him. Not that you knew he was a demon anyways.

You’re one of the only people who can see past his teasing and know when he’s actually tired or stressed.

You don’t know why but you're pretty sure it's probably pressure from being an idol or something else.

He’ll sneak into the shop near closing time, hoodie pulled low above his head, hands in pockets, and just sit behind the counter with you while you do restock. No words, just chilling.

If fans ever asked if he was dating anyone, he’d smirk and go, “Maybe.” Not only are the fans shocked but so are the other boys.

They didn’t expect baby of all people to actually fall for a human and not tell them

They insist on meeting you but Baby refuses. He’s so calm about it too. 

Easily avoids all of them and poofs out of the building before they can follow him.

You two don’t do super fancy dates. You’ll walk the streets of Hongdae with spicy corn dogs and bubble tea, trying every new snack he spots.

He loves making you try unnecessarily spicy things just to watch your reactions, knowing you won’t be able to handle them. “C’mon, you survived me. You can survive this.”

He takes horrible selfies with you.

 Tongues out, fake gang signs that make him feel cool (he saw them on tiktok) and captions like “me n my boss lady”

Does he get jealous?

Baby? Nah, not really… Okay fine, a little.

If some schoolboy flirts with you while buying gum, Baby will suddenly “appear” from behind a shelf with 20 spicy ramen cups in his arms like “Pretty thing, help me figure out where to box these up yea?”

He’d dump the cups in your arms so he could take over the cash register and would absolutely glare into the boy's soul as he rings up his order.

The boy leaves.

He would call you things like: 

Cashier-nim : when you first met.

Boss Lady : Whenever you order him around.

Snack : When he tries to resist the urge to bite you. 

Trouble : When he wants to accuse you of flirting with him.

Pretty Thing : To get you flustered

Y/N-ie : Only calls you by your name during quiet and VERY sincere moments.

You call him things like: 

Spice King : You watched him down like 5 ghost peppers with ease.

Little Brat : Whenever he’s being annoying on purpose.

Incompetent toddler : You see the pattern?

Pretty Boy : Only when he’s being sweet.

Baby : It’s literally his name

He would confess to you by leaving a sticky note on the counter that says “Employee discount for boyfriends??”

Though its not super duper straight up, he’s still pretty to the point with it.

When you look up confused, he just winks and says, “I like you. Now say yes before I buy out your whole damn store.”

[catthestampede]

I was gonna post this ao3 free but I decided just posted here 

Cottontail or Cottonhead

Danny first got into the business when he was eight.

His parents forgot him—again—at a paranormal convention. By the time they remembered, it had been two weeks.

Jazzy was away at camp, and they only noticed he was missing when she got back.

Those two weeks? Well, they were interesting, to say the least.

Somehow, he ended up being picked up by an assassin. And apparently, he and a group of them decided to see how good this kid really was.

Surprisingly, ghost hunting and assassin work are pretty similar. Ghost hunting and mercenary work? Basically the same thing.

And deep down, Danny’s always been a commit-to-the-bit kind of boy.

So he committed. He ended up gaining a reputation—one of the best child assassins out there. So good, in fact, that no one even knows his real name.

Or what his face really looks looks.

No one needs to know it’s because of stranger danger that no one knows his name—

or that he was going through a phase where he thought surgical masks were the coolest thing ever.

By the time he left, he knew things no eight-year-old should know.

⸻

The next year, history repeated itself.

And then again the year after that—but this time, Danny actually went out of his way to get jobs. Because, well…

The bills were piling up. Mom and Dad weren’t paying them—again.

Jazz tried her best, but at the end of the day, she was only two years older than him. Way too young to handle all of this.

On top of that, she was focused on getting good grades so she could earn a scholarship for college.

Danny tried to make money, but no one really wanted to hire a “freaky Fenton.”

So, when it came time for the convention?

He made up some excuse about summer camp.

Instead of two weeks, he got six. And by the end of it, he’d taken the lives of nine men.

Made more than enough money to cover him and Jazz for the rest of the year—until next summer.

He wouldn’t say he felt particularly good about it. But he didn’t really feel anything at all.

He Googled the men later, trying to find some reason to feel guilty. He didn’t.

He felt more guilt about not feeling guilt than anything else.

⸻

Time passed. By the time he was twelve, he was well known in the underworld.

He even got a nickname: The Killer Cottontail.

He’s not sure how to feel about that. But it’s too late to change it now.

He’s pretty sure it started as “Copperhead,” but was changed to “Cottontail” because of how young and cute he looked—which, rude.

(In reality, he got the nickname because the white part of his shirt always poked out of the back of his jacket like a rabbit tail.)

All in all, though? Not the worst way his life could’ve gone.

⸻

He met Bruce Wayne when he was eleven.

Danny had been hired to kill a man named Mr. Pennyworth.

Bruce thought Danny was there to kill him—which was kind of self-important, but also a reasonable assumption, he guessed.

The man panicked and offered to pay him ten times his original rate. Danny would’ve been a fool to say no.

He gave Bruce a business card and left.

⸻

Apparently, that day started a very weird relationship.

That card had a connection to Danny’s business phone, and Mr. Bruce apparently took it as an invitation to text him.

For “jobs.”

Which apparently included fetch quests… and sending pictures of his dog.

In all fairness, Ace might actually be the best dog in existence.

Danny will never not respond to pictures of that dog.

Bruce also hired him for smaller tasks like:

• Get information on Penguin’s goons

• Capture this criminal and turn him in

• What do you know about this underworld figure?

Danny enjoys the relationship, though he constantly has to remind himself to stay professional.

Also, Mr. Bruce is way smarter than he looks—or acts.

Several mercenaries have warned him about that. When Danny brought Bruce up once, Mr. Deathstroke got a weird look on his face—like he knew something but wasn’t saying it.

So Danny’s always careful about what he says around Mr. Bruce.

⸻

That odd little relationship lasted about six months.

A few days after Danny’s twelfth birthday, Bruce called him in for another job.

It was weirdly simple.

Bruce wanted him to babysit his newest kid.

Danny has no idea if Bruce realizes how insane that is.

Or that said “kid” is a trained assassin. And kind of a little punk.

Maybe Danny should introduce Bruce to How I Met Your Mother and the whole “crazy-hotness” scale, because wow—Talia al Ghul is definitely on the crazy end.

Normally, Danny wouldn’t leave Jazz alone for more than a couple of days.

But she’s staying the rest of the winter with a friend out of state.

Her school turned digital for the next 3–4 months while the building gets repaired. (Mom and Dad really need to stop jumping straight to missile-grade ghost weapons. Start with something small, maybe?)

So, for the next few months, Danny’s going to be babysitting Damian Wayne during his first days of school.

Joy. 😩

Still—it’s good money. Enough to help Jazz’s college fund. Maybe even enough to start his own.

In two days, he starts his new job for the next three months 

@bluebird8683

"I'll pay you 10 times the amount you were given to take me out." Bruce Wayne is, very out of character, super serious and looking at him so intense.

Danny isn't paid enough to figure out why the supposed himbo isn't acting like it.

"You know what? Yeah. Deal." He fishes his phone out, accepting the money transfer and calls his boss for the day.

"Heyyy big guy– yeah‐ I know... anyway! I'm not killing Bruce Wayne, you should find someone different to do it— bye!" And he hangs up, cutting the shouting with a grin.

"If you ever, and I mean, ever need someone out of the way, call me."

He happily hands his contact information to the billionaire and swoops out of the window.

He is rich! So mega rich!

("Did you just buy the mercenary?"

"He's a kid! I panicked!"

"At least you got a phone number??")

[owe-143]

Hi, if ur not too busy I was hoping I could request something for the saja boys?? Basically reader(fem maybe) is a human manager for the boys(kinda cliche, ik) but they the boys are demons and doesn't rlly care, because they have do manager stuff, but with how mystery was acting durring the meet and greets carries a spray bottle of water around, and gets abs a shirt the actually fits(kinda, don't wanna disappoint the fans) and at one point jinu is like "🤨 where/when did you get all that" and reader is like "🥲You boys stress me tf out, shud up. "

Any who sorry if this is too long, love your work!

✦Stressed tf out✦

A/N:Ty for requesting! I love this idea!! Thank you for reading my stuff hahaha

Warnings: swearing, kinda not proofread

Oneshot fic💗✨

Saja Boys x Manager!Fem!Reader

→Kpdh masterlist←

You scribbled final notes in your journal for the days events. The silence of your office was comforting and you could think. It wouldn't last long as a loud scream echoed the building. You couldn't help but sigh. You lift your fingers, slowly counting down

3

2

1

"Y/N! " Jinu burst through the door. His eyes were panicked. "Mystery, he is-"

"Biting Abby! I know! " You cut him off, shooting out of you seat. You slide the desk drawer open. A few necessities for the boys slept in the drawer. For any occasion. Hair brushes, fidget toys, spare devices and a ton more. You grab the spray bottle and signal Jinu to follow

Jinu's eyebrows raise. "Why do you have all this anyway" He asks. You scoff. You walk faster, approaching the lounge where the other boys were. Another scream erupted from the room. "Because no doesn't seem to work for you boys! " You snap, kicking the door open

The scene in front of you is nothing from the usual. Baby's sitting on the table even when you've told him multiple times not to. His eyes focused on his Nintendo ignoring the scene unfolding on the other side of the room

Mystery stands opposite Romance who has Abby right behind him. You stomp over, spraying Mystery with a reasonable amount of water. He stumbles back and growls. Romance rolls his eyes. He steps away from Abby to sit back down on the sofa.

"Thanks" Abby sighs. You glance over at him. You suddenly spray his face. Abby jumps back "Hey! What did I do?! "

"Nothing. Just felt like it" You say with a grin. You strut over to Baby. You raise the water bottle then spray the side of his face. "Get of my damn table" You hiss. Baby squints his eyes at you. Although, he doesn't dare to protest. Last time he did it was the bottle that hit is face. He slid of the table and sat beside Romance

Jinu dragged his hand down his face. "Sorry" He spoke "Didn't mean to bother you. Again" You shrug. "It's fine" You smile. You watch Baby and Romance have a back and forth with the Nintendo. Mystery sitting in a corner with his arms crossed. Abby was focused on a mirror trying to fix his hair.

The boys are more difficult to handle than you anticipated. Of course, being a manager is never easy for anyone. The Saja Boys were quite normal at first. Relaxed when you started managing them. That only lasted about a week.

You glance around the room. "You all have a meet and greet in the next hour. " The statement causes Romance to groan "Seriously? Can't we do it tomorrow?" Romance has been snappy as of recent. He has an attitude issue in general but it's gotten ridiculous. Abby snickered "What's your problem? " He asks looking over at Romance.

"You're his problem! " Mystery responds. You could sense an argument breaking out. Which would lead to more physical attacks. "That's enough. Meet and greet is today and that's fucking final" You grab the Nintendo from Baby's grasp

"Hey-"

"You've played this thing the whole week. Take a break" You walk over to the door. "If I come back here and you guys are still fighting, I'll start banning stuff"

None of the boys says a word. One thing they won't do is test your threats. When you sat you'll do something. It's most likely to happen. Like the one time you took away anything sweet. Baby lost it that week but it did teach him to stop throwing wet toilet paper at his members

You look over at Jinu, pulling the door open "Help them calm down, please? Not mad, just stressed. And extra help would be amazing" You say. Jinu opens his mouth to speak but closes it again. He smiles and nods. "Yeah. I can do that"

Hopefully Jinu, would be able to calm them down. For about 10 minutes top. But hey, gives you time to rethink your life choices

[steddiehyperfixation]

i think you should try again

written for @steddiebingo prompt: scoops | 2k words | T |

It's the first day of summer vacation and Eddie should be overjoyed. Free. The cage that is school has been opened and he should be a bird in flight, stretching his wings and soaring weightless through the world, unladen with places to be or homework to do. But he isn’t—overjoyed or free or flying or any of it. The cage is open but he still feels just as trapped and heavy as ever, dragging himself sullenly around the trailer until even his uncle feels the need to say something about it. 

Wayne, never usually one to give unsolicited advice and who generally tends to stay out of Eddie’s business, finally looks over at him and tells him, “You gotta quit mopin’ around, Ed. This sulking ain’t doin’ anyone any good, especially not yourself. I reckon you’d feel better if you got outside, go do somethin’.” 

Well, Eddie reckons that’d probably make him feel worse actually, but he gets the part that his uncle’s not saying too, and he doesn’t want his sour mood to bring Wayne down as well. So he gets himself dressed and drags himself sullenly around town instead. 

It’s the new Starcourt Mall’s grand opening today and it’s packed to the brim with high school kids enjoying their break and graduated seniors celebrating their freedom. And it does make Eddie feel worse. He takes it out on a particularly loud, whooping jock in the food court, shoulder-checking him hard and receiving an elbow to the ribs and a “Watch it, freak!” in return. Stupid fucking town. Eddie pulls a devil face, and watching the jock and his friends recoil from him lifts his spirits only marginally. 

What does lift his spirits is wandering to get ice cream and happening across the one and only freshly graduated senior in this place who isn’t free or celebrating. Steve Harrington stands behind the counter of a Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor in a totally dorky sailor uniform complete with a hat, a sight that makes Eddie fight a smile for the first time all day. 

Eddie approaches the counter with a grin, looking Steve up and down. “You know, I was feeling like shit today, but I think this just cheered me up.” 

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, I look ridiculous.”

“Nah, it’s kind of cute, actually,” Eddie says, because it is, and because he’s curious how Steve will react. 

Steve blinks, expression split between a flattered smile and skeptically raised eyebrow. “Thanks? Um.” He shakes his head as if shaking off Eddie’s comment, putting his customer service smile back on gesturing towards the selection of ice cream. “So, what can I get for you today?”  

Eddie shrugs. “What do you recommend to cure a shitty mood?” 

“Well, something chocolate usually works,” Steve answers, “but it depends on what's got you down.” 

“I didn't graduate,” Eddie says, which should be common knowledge by now. “Again. So I’m not really feeling the summer excitement like everyone else.” 

“Ah, right.” Steve nods with a slightly awkward, sympathetic smile. “Definitely chocolate then,” he decides, grabbing a scooper and flipping it in his hand as he slides over to the tubs of ice cream. “How do you feel about Rocky Road?” 

Eddie smiles a little. “It's my favorite.” 

Steve gets to scooping, quiet for a minute and then he says, “I didn't get into college.” 

“Oh.” 

“Not a single one. Not even community college. That's why I'm here. So, you know—I get it.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie appreciates the attempt at solidarity, he really does, but, “At least you graduated.” 

“Yeah…” Steve sheepishly breaks eye contact as he sprays whipped cream onto the ice cream he's scooped. “Are you gonna try again?” 

“I’m not sure yet. I have until the end of the month to decide,” Eddie says, and that seems to be the end of the conversation. 

Steve hands him a sundae with three scoops but only charges him for one, a kindness Eddie isn't quite sure how to respond to, so he doesn't—just pays and finds a booth to sit and eat at. 

He picks somewhere where he can keep Steve in his eyeline, still amused by those sailor shorts and intrigued by the odd little conversation they just had. Steve Harrington is nothing like Eddie expected, nothing like he seemed to be in high school, and the more Eddie watches him, the clearer that becomes. 

Steve’s off his game, keeps trying and failing to flirt with girls who come up to the counter. Whatever smooth charm he was once purported to have in those King Steve days of yore is nowhere in sight now and instead he seems to wear an ill-fitting mask of false confidence, blustering to some poor girl about postponing college in favor of getting real life work experience as if it was his own wise choice to scoop ice cream in a sailor outfit, but his eyes betray a look just as trapped and heavy as Eddie’s been feeling lately. Maybe there is solidarity to be found here after all. 

The girl leaves with her ice cream and Steve looks up to catch Eddie watching him, a startling, unintentional moment of direct eye contact. Steve gives a tiny smile and a small shrug—in embarrassment maybe, or just simple acknowledgement—but Eddie doesn’t see it long enough to interpret it, already looking away and snapping his attention back to the slowly melting sundae in front of him. He eats his ice cream and doesn’t look over again, allowing Steve the dignity of striking out with the next girl unwitnessed. It’s cruel to visibly revel in another’s failure, and while there are many people Eddie would love to be cruel to today, Steve isn’t one of them. 

So Eddie watches everyone else instead. As the natural curative powers of chocolate ice cream and marshmallows work their magic on his bad mood, he alleviates his bitterness further and entertains himself by imagining great, fantastical harm befalling anyone he sees whom he finds irritating. Snickering mean girls are cursed by wizards; obnoxious jocks are eaten by dragons; celebrating seniors are torn apart by hoards of goblins. 

“I think you should try again.”

Eddie blinks out of his daydream of a particularly vicious dragon to see Steve pulling up a chair, those stupid shorts riding up his thighs obscenely as he sits. Not that Eddie’s looking—he’s not (he is). He blinks again, pulls his gaze back to Steve’s face. “What?” 

“High school, graduating,” Steve says, “I think you should try again.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Eddie says with a scoff of a laugh, trying to sound light because he’s really not sure why Steve cares. “Going back for a third senior year is a bit pathetic, isn’t it?” 

“Not as pathetic as giving up,” Steve tells him. “And you never struck me as the type.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you took that much notice of me, Harrington.” 

“Kinda hard not to when you were stomping on top of cafeteria tables every other day, Munson,” Steve points out, like duh. 

“Touché,” Eddie mutters. 

“You’ve got grit, man, is what I’m trying to say,” Steve continues. “You know—you’re bold, you’re tough, you don’t back down. You parade on top of lunch tables and rail against the stereotypes put on you, and that doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d let anyone, not even himself, tell him he can’t. So what’s one more senior year? What’s one more try to finally graduate and stick it to everyone who never thought you could? If anyone can do it this time, it’s you.” 

He says all this in what Eddie can only assume to be his best ‘team captain’ voice, an expert tone of firm encouragement and optimistic passion that Eddie can vividly imagine Steve (tiny basketball shorts included) having used in locker room speeches to rally the spirits and self-confidence of his teammates before they took to the field—or court, or whatever. The Hawkins High basketball team never won much in Steve’s time, but Eddie bets they had great morale. 

“Right, yeah,” he says, attempting to remain guardedly nonchalant even as his chest glows warm with Steve’s unexpected praise. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Steve nods, smiles. “Of course.” And that could’ve been the end of it, but Steve stays seated, taps his fingers against the table, and surprises Eddie again by saying, “And, hey, um, you run that Dungeons and Dragons club at school, right? Hell-something?” 

“Hellfire, yeah,” Eddie confirms, adding Steve Harrington knows what D&D is? to the ever-growing list of things that have bewildered and intrigued him about Steve today. “Why?”

“There’s a couple of kids I kind of babysit, they’re gonna be freshmen next year and they’re really into that nerd stuff—like, total geeks,” Steve says. Easy targets, he means. He shrugs. “So, you know, if you did decide to stick around another year, it’d be nice for them to have someone to look out for ‘em.”

“Ah,” Eddie says. Now this all makes a little more sense. He points his spoon at Steve. “There it is, the ulterior motive.” Steve doesn’t care about him; he hasn’t been trying to talk him into a third senior year for Eddie’s sake, but for the sake of a bunch of nerdy kids he knows. Which, actually, is still kind of sweet. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Put that accusing spoon down, Munson, there’s no ulterior motive. I meant what I said before, too. I want you to try again for you, because you really are tough and I really do think you can do it. But also because there are some kids who might need you. Both of those things can be true.”

Eddie puts his accusing spoon down and uses it to take another bite of his soupy ice cream instead. “I guess.” 

“And, who knows, maybe I want it for me too,” Steve adds flippantly, and Eddie can’t tell if he’s being serious or if this is just a cheeky hypothetical to further his point. “You know, I drive those kids around a lot, I’ll probably be picking them up from those Hellfire meetings. Maybe I want to see more of you. Maybe all three of those things can be true.” 

Hypothetical or not, Eddie can’t hold back his oddly endeared smile anymore. “Alright,” he concedes, “you’ve made your point.” 

Steve grins back. “I’ve gotta get back to work,” he says, finally standing up. He drops a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder as he passes by, a brief, lingering squeeze. “Just think about it.” 

Eddie glances at his shoulder as if half expecting the touch to have sunk into his skin and left some sort of imprint. It hadn’t, of course. He scrapes up the last of his sundae and quickly stands before Steve can get too far. “Hey, Steve?” 

Steve pauses and turns around. 

“I think you should try again too.” 

“What, with college and stuff? Yeah, I know, I’ll probably reapply next year.” 

“Well, yeah, good, that too,” Eddie says, “but I meant— I saw you strike out with that girl earlier; I think you should try again. You’ve got a lot going for you, really, and I, uh, I think a lot more people would see that if you didn’t put up some weird facade of over-the-top confidence. So- yeah, I think you should try again, but be honest, be yourself, you know, without all that bluster.”

Steve smiles, a slow, bemused sort of smile that borders on a smirk, as his head tilts and his eyes glance Eddie over. “I just did,” he says, and then he’s turning away again. “I’ll see you around, Eddie.” 

It takes a couple seconds of buffering time for Eddie to process exactly what Steve meant by that, and by then Steve’s already gone, back to work and busy. “Yeah, you will,” Eddie mutters in delayed, unnecessary response, grinning to himself as he throws away his empty sundae cup and walks out of there in far better spirits than he’d entered with. 

He still doesn’t know yet if he’ll be going back to Hawkins High for another try at senior year, but he does know that he’ll definitely be coming back here, to Scoops Ahoy, for another try at Steve Harrington.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I need Bruce trying to gentle parent Dick as a child. Like maybe Bruce isn’t exactly a good parent but tries. When Dick starts throwing massive tantrums, he just puts Dick in an empty room for time out. This does not stop Dick as he ends up destroying the room despite nothing being in it. When Dick does something Bruce doesn’t approve of, Bruce just says softly “Don’t do that.” Dick does it again. Like I need him trying and failing. Nothing he does works. Then Dick decides to turn that gentle parenting back on Bruce. No whenever Bruce makes him mad, he puts Bruce in a time-out room. Whenever Bruce is being dumb, he just gives him a pout and says “Don’t do that.” Bruce actually does his best to listen to Dick because he thinks it might foster trust or encourage Dick to follow along when Bruce does it to him. It doesn’t really work. Dick still doesn’t listen and now Bruce is being parented by the child he’s supposed to be raising. The only plus is that it calms down Dick’s more violent urges because instead of destroying shit he just sends Bruce away.

Then Dick gets shot, and something in Bruce snaps. There is no more gentle parenting, no more kind words or soft punishments. He needs to make Dick listen, and if that means hurting him, then so be it. He loses sight of the fact that Dick is still a kid, an incredibly traumatized one at that. He still lets Dick parent him, although he’s more snappy about it. Dick stops being soft with him, too, instead telling him harshly to get to bed, threatening to sic Alfred on him, or screaming in his face about how he’s the worst. Somehow they’ve fallen into this horrible dynamic and neither of them know how to get out of it. Dick blames himself for being such a troubled kid, and though Bruce never says it, Dick knows he blames him too. So Dick leaves.

Eventually, over the years their family grows, but Bruce’s softness never really comes back. He’s meaner, more controlling, even downright cruel at times. And one day when the entire batfam is arguing with him over how unreasonable he is, one them snaps and says “Jesus, B, who turned you into such a fucking asshole?” and before Bruce can even think about it, he responds “Dick did.” He closes his mouth in shock, face going ashen while everyone else freezes. The words cut straight into Dick’s heart. He replies with the only words he can think of at the moment “Don’t do that.” He meant for the words to be cold, confident. Instead they came out soft, chiding and pained. Before anyone can say anything else, Bruce turns on his heel and leaves. They all try to follow him to argue more but then stare, confused, as he walks into an empty room, locking the door behind him. He doesn’t come out for a long time.

🥺 rip out my fucking heart why don’t you, damn.

But now I’m just thinking of the scenario with Bruce saying Dick turned him into an asshole, and the whole room freezes.

Jason didn’t expect an actual answer. Tim and Damian thought Bruce would have just chided Jason for his language. Dick thought a Bruce was just going to keep yelling.

But then the way he says, “Dick did” without even thinking about it, without hesitation, it shocks everyone.

And Dick feels like he wants to cry, because sure, he knew he was a pretty fucked up kid. He was troubled. Traumatized. A problem child. But Bruce for the most part had been so patient when he was little. And when Bruce started being an asshole after Dick got shot, it wasn’t like Dick couldn’t fight right back. It was almost like a game, sometimes. But Dick has always felt so guilty about it, because Bruce had been so soft spoken and patient and nice, and then Dick went and fucked him up. Dick ruined him. It’s all Dick’s fault.

Dick has always had that thought in the back of his mind. But he’s never had any real proof that Bruce felt the same.

Now he does. And Dick’s chest feels hollow as he stares at a horrified looking Bruce.

All Dick can manage to say is a soft, desperate, “Don’t do that,” just like Bruce always tried to use with him, before he started using yelling as his go-to response.

Then Bruce turns without saying anything and walks right into an empty room, and Dick feels like he’s going to throw up. He turns too, towards his bike, and he ignores the way his siblings are calling after him. He turns off his comms and rides home, going way too fast, feeling the wind whip around him, and tears blurring his vision until he blinks them away.

When he gets back to his Blüdhaven apartment, he slides in through the window and doesn’t even change out of his costume before he’s puking in the bathroom.

He silences his phone, turns in his security system, and then spends the next hour sitting under the water in his shower, spacing out until the water goes ice cold and he has to get out. Then he crawls into bed, pulls out Zitka from under the pillows to hug to his chest, and buries his head under his pillows. If he doesn’t pay attention to it, he can pretend he’s not still crying because of the guilt.

He stays like that for a long time, not moving. He falls asleep for a while, wakes up in a panic, rinse and repeat.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the next thing he knows, someone is sitting down on his bed next to him, laying a hesitant hand in his back. And he knows it’s Bruce, and it just makes him feel even worse.

“Go away,” he begs, the words muffled under his pillows.

“I didn’t mean it,” Bruce tries to tell him.

“Yes you did,” Dick says miserably. “And it’s true. I know it’s true, you don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

“It wasn’t you who made me an asshole,” Bruce says. “The situation-”

“Caused by me,” Dick argues.

“You were just a child, Dick.” Bruce sighs.

“A horrible, no good, rotten child!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Bruce says firmly. “It’s not true, Dick. I don’t care what anyone says, you were not a rotten child. You were just a little boy. I was the adult, and I should have found other solutions that worked for you.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, but he eventually moves out from under the pillows to curl up with his head in Bruce’s lap. Bruce plays with his hair, and the two of them stay quiet for a long time. Neither of them really knows what to say. They’re both still upset. And they’re both awful at dealing with their feelings.

The sadness and anger and guilt they’re feeling from this fight won’t be resolved. They won’t really talk about it. It won’t be talked about without someone else bringing it up, and that won’t happen for a while.

But for now, Bruce is going to comfort his son. And for now, Dick will let him.

[saetiate]

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are "just friends". and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible) word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

~

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan.

“What are you doing here, Sae?”

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

~

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

~

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

~

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

~

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

~

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

[spearofheaven]

GETTING STICKY.ᐟ — spider-man! toji fushiguro

SUM. breaking the bed with your superhero boyfriend

CONTENTS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem reader. 800 words. unprotected p in v. bed breaking. improper use of webs (mentioned once). dom toji. use of baby and doll.

A/N. no i haven’t worked on the long fic 💔😣

SPIDER-MAN! TOJI whose strength had always been a trending topic in the morning’s edition of the daily bugle after he lifted a subway train with just his web-covered hands without so much as breaking a sweat.

forums on reddit were dedicated to calculating just how much that weighed, each user trying to figure out just how much the masked hero could lift before unanimously coming to one conclusion: spider-man was really fucking strong.

..all dedicated to the same toji who lost track of just how strong he was whenever he was inside of you.

“atta baby, there we-” toji pushed his cock into your slick cunt, pushing through that initial ring of resistance until he managed to bottom out, “-go.”

but then again, how was he supposed to remember when you squeezed around his cock like you wanted to milk him dry? your walls seemed to take the shape of his shaft with ease, gripping around him like a tight vice.

toji gave you some grace—starting off with slow, shallow thrusts. but then you started to whine and wiggle against him. impatient as ever. “go faster, baby, please.” he couldn’t bring himself to deny your needy request, not with the way your hips started moving back, trying to meet him halfway.

even with the webs securely binding your hands together, you were eager. eager to move, eager to grasp whatever you had next to you.

“yeah?” plap! “you can take what i give you? no runnin’ away?” plap! you nodded almost eagerly along to his words, “i can take it, i can take it, toji!”

“yeah, you can,” he almost affirmed, tip kissing your cervix every time he bottomed out. “take everything i give you so well, doll,” toji leaned down, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder while he kept rutting into you.

“f-fuck, just like that! just like that!” your moans bounced off the paper-thin walls, almost molding into the perfect symphony with each loud squelch! and fwap fwap fwap! your slick coated his shaft completely, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets.

“just like that?” toji punctuated his mocking words with a slam of his hips, “just like that? yeah, baby?” you nodded like a bobblehead, burying your head into your pillow to attempt to muffle your moans.

the bed started shaking underneath the two of you, screws clobbering onto the floor. toji didn’t seem fazed that you were sinking inch by inch, fingers rubbing at your clit with quick precision.

“toji, toji, toji!” each moan of his name was like pure music to his ears, his hands instinctively gripping your waist all that much tighter.

“toji, the bed!” your warning came out a loud mewl, finally registering in his mind. your fingers dug into the silk sheets underneath, eyes rolling back while your cunt gushed around his shaft like a broken faucet.

the bed in question creaked on its hinges, headboard slamming against the wall with each sinful thrust of his hips. “mhm, what about the bed?” he drawled out, “use your words, doll.”

before you had the chance to respond, the bed gave out. one minute you were several feet above ground and the next, you were on the floor with what remained of your bed frame. “…the bed’s gonna break. again.”

“whoops,” the bark of laughter that left his lips let you know just how sorry he was. you smacked the side of his arm, only making the man laugh harder. much to your displeasure. you looked around at all the scattered pieces of chipped wood on the floor, the wooden frame completely annihilated.

“where are we supposed to sleep tonight?” the million dollar question. toji simply shrugged, leaning over and pressing a kiss on your shoulder. he seemed more worried about undoing the strings of webs on your hands.

“i’ll fix it tomorrow. don’t worry so much, baby,” toji uttered, completely distracted and blissfully unaware. his lips moved up to gently suck on your collarbone.

“toji, there isn’t anything to fix.” you gestured to the mess surrounding the two of you, making him look up.

“huh,” he noted, standing up from his spot before extending his hand out to you. toji cleared a little path onto the corner of the room where the two of you wouldn’t get a splinter, “we can just buy another one tomorrow.”

“the guy at the furniture store’s gonna give us a weird look. it’s our third time buying a bed frame in less than a year.” the man had already questioned the two of you when you went two months ago with this same problem.

his hands went down to rest on your hips, holding you close to him, “so?” even with a broken bed, the man was completely unbothered. “we’re giving back to the community ‘n stuff.”

and almost like that wasn’t nearly bad enough, a bright yellow noise complaint notice was plastered smack middle onto your creaky, unfixed door the next morning.

the sales clerk at the furniture didn’t seem to take it the same way when the two of you walked in the next day, immediately giving you both a dirty look. “another one? the last was supposed to be heavy duty.”

you wanted the ground to swallow you full.

and toji simply seemed amused. his scar stretched as his lips curled into a subtle smirk, like he was proud of himself, “we need a titanium one. last one wasn’t that heavy duty.”

[sirenontheloose]

we really need part 2 to Please Don't Clip This ❤️🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Here it is! I'm lowkey scared I’ll get obsessed and keep going until they start dating or something.

Please Don't Clip This pt.2

pt.1 here

Y/N didn’t go online after that day or the next. She saw the trending tags, the edits, the slowed-down clips of her blinking at Lara’s Instagram like she was being hypnotized, but she didn’t respond. It wasn’t embarrassment, not exactly. She was just... critically offline. So offline, in fact, that she didn’t even know KATSEYE was in South Korea promoting their latest release, Gnarly, while she was busy resting, cleaning, and ignoring the fact that her livestream crush might’ve actually witnessed the full collapse.

She thought it was over and everyone had their share of fun teasing her.

Until Friday night.

Y/N had just finished dance practice. Hair damp from sweat, hoodie slung over one shoulder, she followed the rest of Aespa into a nearby Korean BBQ place. It was one of those regular idol haunts. Casual, private, safe. She didn’t even think twice about it.

Until she sat down.

And saw the face.

The one she was swooning over in front of possibly hundreds of thousands of people.

Sitting at the next table.

With KATSEYE.

There she was, Lara.

Y/N froze mid-sit, hovering awkwardly over the cushion like her knees forgot how to work. Karina noticed first. She looked up, followed Y/N’s line of sight, and let out a quiet but sharp gasp.

"Oh my God. No way. That’s her, isn’t it?"

Y/N sat down so fast she almost knocked over the water pitcher. "No it’s not. I mean, what are you talking about? It could be anyone. Shut up."

Winter leaned across the table with a smug smile. "That’s definitely her. I saw that livestream, remember? We all did. That’s your Instagram crush in 4K."

Ningning giggled. "She’s even prettier in person. Y/N, you’re so cooked."

"I’m begging you all to be normal," Y/N whispered, face heating up. She reached for a menu like it could shield her from the world.

Karina grinned. "You were giggling at her selfies for ten minutes straight. Don’t think we forgot."

Winter nodded. "Should we say hi for you? No? Maybe just a little wave? You should ask for her number," she was practically scream-whispering.

Y/N groaned. "Please stop. I'm shaking."

From the other table, a burst of laughter rang out. Y/N risked a glance.

Lara was laughing at something Dani said, head tilted back slightly, eyes crinkled. Then she turned, just a bit, and made eye contact.

Y/N blinked.

And Lara smiled.

The kind of smile that said, yes, I saw everything.

Y/N turned back around and physically pulled her hood up. "Abort mission. We need to leave."

"You haven’t even ordered," Ningning teased.

"I can survive off air and shame."

Meanwhile, at the other table, the KATSEYE girls were not being subtle.

"She’s so your type," Megan said, poking Lara’s arm.

"She was literally blushing on livestream," Manon added, grinning.

"She looked like she was about to write a love letter," Yoonchae chimed in.

Lara tried to play it cool, swirling her drink with her straw. "You’re all exaggerating."

"We are not," Dani said. "She was gone, she looked like she was planning her future with you while scrolling through your page."

Sophia leaned in. "What are you gonna do?"

Lara glanced over again. Y/N looked like she was actively trying to disappear. Her hood was up. Her chopsticks were shaking. Her friends were giggling mercilessly.

Lara smiled again. "We’ll see."

Back at Aespa’s table, Y/N let out a long, silent scream into her hands.

A few minutes passed. Then footsteps were heard.

Y/N looked up just in time to see Lara approaching, casual but confident, hands in the pockets of her jacket.

And of course, she smelled good. Looked even better. Like someone who walked straight out of a perfume ad, all glowing skin and effortless charm, while Y/N looked like she just finished dumpster diving behind a dance studio.

"Hi," Lara said, stopping by their table. Her voice was calm, a little playful. "Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say... your livestream was really fun."

Y/N’s soul tried to escape through her hoodie.

Karina choked on her water. Ningning bit her lip to stop from laughing. Winter made the most dramatic gasp of the night.

Y/N blinked up at her, completely frozen. "Oh. Uh. Thanks. It was…yeah. Unexpected."

Lara tilted her head slightly, still smiling. "Well, it made my night. I’ll leave you to your dinner. Just thought I’d say hi."

She gave the table a polite nod, eyes flicking back to Y/N for just a second longer than necessary, and turned to walk back to her group.

Once she was gone, the silence shattered.

"OH MY GOD," Karina hissed.

"She came over and she said hi. She talked to you," Winter whispered.

"Y/N, you’re sweating," Ningning added.

"I’m aware," Y/N muttered, hiding her face in both hands.

This was worse than the livestream.

And somehow, so much better.

[creature-wizard]

Here are some tips for appropriate behavior as an ally:

99% of the time, you should not talk about yourself (like mentioning things you've done or how something makes you feel) on somebody else's post. There are a few exceptions (like a personal anecdote that strengthens OP's point), but usually it's inappropriate.

You might see a post talking about a thing and feel compelled to talk about another thing it reminds you of or feels adjacent to. Sometimes people don't mind this, but it's also highly contextual and depends on the person you're responding to. Usually, it's considered inappropriate behavior.

When in doubt, add nothing and only use filing tags. Remember, you can always make your own post or vent in a private journal.

Learn to manage your own feelings and work through them in appropriate settings. Practice mindfulness, try journaling, talk to your friends, a therapist, your priest, whatever. People advocating for their rights have a lot to do and worry about, it's not reasonable to expect them to manage your feelings or listen to your confessions.

It takes time to learn how to talk about issues with all of the depth and nuance they deserve. Trying to be a teacher after a few weeks of research is a bad idea. If you're new and not well-read, focus on boosting other people's stuff.

Research stuff for yourself as much as you can. There are some people who will be happy to explain things for you, but lots of people are tired and nobody likes repeating the same 101 stuff forever. Searching DuckDuckGo for simple phrases like "systemic racism" or "systemic transphobia" are good places to start.

Go read Information Literacy Basics 101 while you're at it, to improve your research game.

Everybody advocating for their rights is tired and stressed out to some degree. Don't take it personally if they're short with you, and refrain from snapping back. Yes, even if you think they're wrong.

You should generally trust oppressed people when they talk about their own personal experiences, but you don't have to take literally everything they tell you at face value. Distinguishing between people talking about their own experiences and the narratives they use to explain and makes sense of those experiences is a crucial skill.

Posts generalizing about a privileged class are not inherently posts demonizing a privileged class. "All men want to rape" is demonization, "cis men are responsible for most rape" is not. Learn to distinguish between them and don't react to the latter as if it's the former. Bend like a reed in the wind and let it pass over you and through you etc.

Feeling uncomfortable is to be expected, and you have to get used to it. You will hear a lot of things that reframe a lot of things you took for granted in a very negative way. That said - you need to be able to distinguish between feeling uncomfortable and accumulating actual psychological damage. If you start feeling like you're irreparably broken or like you deserve to be punished for having privilege, that's unhealthy.

Acknowledging systemic oppression and the need to dismantle it doesn't mean you need to adopt an us vs. them mentality. In fact, that kind of mentality is unhealthy and harmful. Watch out for that because it can sneak up on you.

No matter what anyone tells you, performatively traumatizing yourself (such as by viewing gory pictures) is not activism. See Bellingcat's article How to Maintain Mental Hygiene as an Open Source Researcher.

You might be tempted to share gory photos because you think it'll get more attention and make people care more. However, sharing photos of murder victims is widely considered disrespectful and traumatizing people will not make them better activists.

This is what I've got right now; additions are welcome.

[bigification]

High Stakes DnD

Synopsis: Three men start a DND campaign and learn the hard way that whatever happens to their characters, happens to them in real life. As each of them transform, they have to work together to beat the campaign or be stuck the way they are forever.

"All three of you enter the dark and dingy lair, what would you like to do next?" Said the DM.

"Can I check for magical traps?" Jeremy asks, playing the wizard.

"Roll an arcana check." The DM responds.

Jeremy rolls a 14.

"There are no magical traps you can sense nearby, but you notice magic emanating from further into the lair."

"I want to shoot a flaming arrow down the dark corridor to try and see further." Dan asks, playing the elf ranger.

"Roll a perception check."

Dan rolls a 9.

"The flaming arrow doesn't light up as much of the corridor as you hoped. Though you do see a turn about 50 metres ahead of you."

"I'm gonna charge ahead! I can take whatever this lair throws at me." John says brazenly, playing the barbarian.

"Roll and athletics check."

John rolls a 1.

"Ooh that's unfortunate. You instantly trip and fall flat on your face. As you try to get up, your hand pushes down a pressure plate. As soon as the pressure plate clicks into place, a thick green liquid begins to shoot out of the floor. Make a dexterity saving throw."

John rolls a 7.

"You try to dodge out of the way, but you don't react in time. The stream of green liquid shoots directly into your mouth. You're shocked by how good it tastes, almost like a sweet tea. The liquid fills your stomach, leaving you extremely bloated."

"I want to pull him away from the trap."

Dan rolls a 16 on his strength check.

"You manage to pull him out of the trap, but not before litres of the mysterious liquid entered his body."

"Guys, I don't feel great." The barbarian expresses as he lays heavy against the wall.

"You suddenly feel a tightness grow under your armour. You look down to see your stomach has continued bloating, pushing out your chest plate. It keeps bloating and bloating until it becomes obvious that it's no longer a bloat. Within moments, your six pack becomes a round and hairy gut, protruding under your chest plate."

"Guys what's happening!?" John freaks out as the changes start to affect him in real life as well. His slim figure quickly swells as a large ball gut rides up his shirt, revealing a hairy gut underneath his shirt.

"You let out a loud burp that sends ripples through your soft belly. Next you hear your chest plate stretch as your solid pecs soften under a thick layer of fat. Your chest plate breaks in half, falling to the ground as your man tits sag onto your belly."

"Buuuurrrraaaappp" John let's out a massive belch as he grows a pair of soft man tits that press tight against his shirt. "Why does it feel so... Good?" He moans as his nipples triple in size and a forest of hair grows on his chest.

"Those strong limbs of yours don't fare any better. The chiseled definition in your arms is buried under soft fat, and your hands become swollen with thick fat filled fingers. Your thighs become thick as a tree trunk, making it hard for you to walk and your feet burst out of your tiny shoes. And that perky ass of yours becomes so big that it sags under its own weight."

The changes quickly apply to John, making the rest of his body match his hulking gut. His arms and legs swell, his hands and feet double in size, and his ass becomes so wide it doesn't fit in his chair anymore.

"And don't think that pretty face is safe either. Your once sharp barbarian features soften under layers of pudge. Your sharp jawline and strong chin melt into three double chins. Your cheek bones are buried under your chubby cheeks. You're finally left twice your previous weight, bursting out of your armour, and barely capable of moving."

John's transformation in real life also completes, making his face much wider and rounder. Unlike his fantasy counterpart, John does not have massive muscles to give him more definition under his fat. So he is left fat yet scrawny limbs and a massive ball gut that hangs over his waist.

"What the fuck just happened!?" Jeremy asks, surprised at watching friends balloon into a 300 pound blob of a man.

"I must have forgotten to mention it..." The DM says in a sinister tone. "Any changes that happen to your character in the campaign apply to you in real life."

"God I'm so hungry." John interrupts.

"Good thing there's a whole buffet prepared behind you buddy." The DM points to a table of food behind John.

"Wait, is any of this permanent?"

"Only if you fail to complete the campaign."

"Oh god, I can't end up like John."

"Let's just beat the campaign and get this over with."

"Fine, let's go."

"Let's walk to the turn I saw earlier."

"You make it to the turn with no problems, but the fat barbarian now has halved movement speed, so it takes you longer than you'd expect. Also, the barbarian's constitution has gone up by 4 and his dexterity has gone down by 6."

"I'm sorry, you guys just don't get how hard it is being my size." John complained.

"Whatever, let's keep walking."

"The hallway opens up into what seems to be a room, but it's too dark to tell. Roll a perception check."

Dan rolls an 18.

"You hear footsteps getting louder and louder from the darkness. You look in the direction of the footsteps and see a large figure emerge from the darkness. It lunges at you, but you manage to step out of the way just as a spear nearly misses you. Roll initiation."

Dan rolls a 22

John rolls a 14

Jeremy rolls a 6

"The top of the round is Dan. What would you like to do?"

"I want to shoot double arrows."

He rolls a 16 on hit for the first arrow, and 18 for the second.

"That's a hit, roll for damage."

"9 on the first arrow, 6 on the second arrow."

"Your first arrow lodges into the creature's chest, and the second into its arm. It lets out a guttural growl that echoes around the room as it rips out both arrows. It then lunges at you again with its spear. Does a 12 hit?"

"No."

"He lunges at you, but you quickly pull up your wooden shield. The spear slices through the shield but not far enough to hit you, and you notice a green liquid that is leaking from the tip of the spear."

"Can I pull on the spear to get a better look at the creature?"

Dan rolls a 15 on his strength check.

"You yank on its spear with all your strength, causing it to stumble forward. This brings it just close enough for you to tell that it is an orc, about 7 feet tall with big muscles, tusks, and dark green skin."

"Now it's your turn, John."

John looks up from his plate of food. "Oh, right."

"I will rage and swing my mace at him."

John rolls a nat 20 to hit.

"It's a critical! Now roll for damage."

"16 damage, doubles because of the Crit."

"Those big barbarian muscles are still hidden under your fat, and you use them to swing your mace directly into the orcs ribs. You hear a crack and his ribs snap, and you leave multiple stab wounds in his side from the spikes on your mace. The orc doesn't look good, but he's still fighting. In retaliation, he will try to right hook you. Does a 17 hit?"

"Yes."

"Despite his broken ribs, the orc charges at you and swings his fist right into the side of your jaw, knocking you on your ass. He deals 11 bludgeoning damage and you're knocked prone."

"Now it's the orcs turn. He will use his movement to sprint straight towards Jeremy."

"What! Why me?"

"He sees you as the weak link and he figures he can get one kill before going down."

"What the hell!"

"He lunges with his spear. Does a 14 hit?"

"Yes."

"He stabs his spear directly into your stomach, now you need to do a constitution saving throw."

Jeremy rolls a 9.

"Just barely fails. He deals 16 piercing damage and the liquid on his spear has made its way into your body, infecting you."

"It's my turn now, right?"

"It is, however, you are having trouble moving due to the infection taking over your body. You spend your turn writhing in pain. It is back to the top of the round, Dan's turn."

"I want to again shoot 2 arrows."

Dan rolls a 6 and a 17 to hit.

"The second arrow hits, roll for damage."

Dan rolls a 12.

"The first arrow flies by the orc, lodging itself into the wall. The second arrow flies directly into the back of the orcs head, piercing straight through and sticking out of his forehead."

"Fuck yeah!"

"I would take this as such a victory, as you hear painful grunts coming from the wizard."

"What?"

"As you approach, the wizard pushes aside his robe to reveal the spear wound. A growing green liquid is oozing inside of it, and it looks like the skin around it is turning green. The green ooze pumps through his veins, glowing through his skin as it's pumped all around his body. Finally, the ooze makes its way to the wizard's brain. Within an instant, his facial expression changes from pain to shock as two tusks grow from his lower jaw. They grow to about three inches long, pointing up towards his cheeks as his lower jaw widens to fit them. His nose also widens and his brow one becomes a lot more prominent as his eyes go from green to dark brown. His straight blonde hair becomes dark and coarse as it spreads down his side burns into a thick beard that covers his massive jaw."

"Guys, I don't feel so good."

Jeremy holds his head as if he had a sudden migraine. He looks up at his friends as his human features start to morph, just like his wizard counterpart. His jaw thickens as tusks grow from his mouth. His brow bone becomes more prominent, making him look like a dumb himbo. His skin starts to take on a green hue as his eyes turn brown and his hair becomes dark and coarse.

"You fall back as the infection takes over. That smart wizard brain of yours is starting to fail you as it becomes increasingly difficult to think. But it's not like you'll need that brain, you're an orc after all, you're quite strong. Your muscles swell, giving massive biceps, thick pecs, and a defined six pack as your wound begins to heal."

"Please help... Think... Hard."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

Jeremy lets out a deep growl as his body starts to grow. His T-shirt and shorts tighten against his green skin as his muscles swell. His clothes rip in half in dramatic fashion, leaving him naked and showing off his growing dick. He brings his massive orc hands to cover his cock, but it's so big that it's near impossible to hide. Meanwhile, his perspective shifts higher and higher as his body grows to a hulking 7 feet tall.

"After your wound has fully healed, you stand back up, now towering over your party. Looking at your tiny elf friend fills you with a sudden confidence. You stand there for a moment to flex while your party watches in shock. Your biceps are massive and you can now bounce your juicy pecs, not to mention your perky ass cheeks. But after you're done with your one man show, John tosses you a cloth that doesn't fit him anymore, just so you can cover up your manhood. You look down at your wizard garb on the floor in pieces before grabbing the cloth and putting it on."

"Feel... Good."

Jeremy's voice is deep and gruff, no longer holding the wisdom he once had. He uses his thick hands to explore his new body, finding new bulging muscles all over his body. John and Dan just have to watch as his 12 inch dick starts to stick straight up in the air while he rubs his swollen muscles. He's only brought back to reality when his chair starts to creak under his weight.

"Can we just move on and get this over with."

"The three of you keep moving deeper into the lair, stopping every once in a while to let John catch his breath. The hallway becomes warmer and more humid the longer you venture."

"This has got to be a trap, I want to scout for traps."

"Roll a perception check."

Dan rolls a nat 20.

"Fuck yeah!"

"You carefully survey your surroundings, using sight, smell, and sound to scout for traps, but you don't find any. All you notice is a faint golden glow coming from the end of the hallway."

"I'll run ahead, I can end this. Just meet me up there."

"You run to the end of the hallway and see a large golden door, slightly ajar. You sneak in to see a large glittering cave, the floor covered in golden treasures and reflect the light all over the caves walls. What will you do?"

"I will try to climb up the treasure to get a better view of the cave."

"Roll an acrobatics check."

Dan rolls a nat 1.

"You try to climb a small pile of treasure, but lose your footing and fall, taking some treasure down with you. You slam on the floor, taking 5 bludgeoning damage before the treasure hits the ground, making a loud clanging noise that echoes throughout the cave. After a moment of silence, the ground starts to shake violently as you see a large figure emerge from the pile of gold."

"I want to hide."

"Roll a stealth check."

Dan rolls a 14.

"You manage to hide behind the pile of gold that you failed to climb. You hear heavy footsteps approaching you, each one shaking the ground. You hear sniffing coming from the other side of the gold pile, then it suddenly stops. The brief silence allows you to hear your heartbeat, but it doesn't last long as the creature swipes away the gold you were hiding behind. You stand still for a moment, struck by the creature that stands before you. It's a red dragon, at least 10 stories tall with a big scaly belly that hangs in front of him. It's also got quite big breasts, along with a long neck with a white mane and a white goatee."

"I want to run back to the hallway."

"Roll an athletics check."

Dan rolls an 18.

"You start sprinting as fast as you can back to the hallway. The dragon just laughs in response. "It's been a while since I've had visitors, it would be rude for you to leave so soon." The dragon says. He takes one step forward, covering more ground than you have since you began running. With one swift motion, he grabs you tight in one hand and lifts you up to his face. His breath is hot against your skin. "I could use a companion, one that'll never leave." The dragon says with a grin on his face. He starts casting a spell with his off hand, red particles swirl around his hand before he presses one of his claws into your chest, right in front of your heart. Roll a constitution saving throw."

Dan rolls an 8.

"You try to fight off the dragons magic, but it's too strong. A symbol etches into your chest where his claw was, signing your fate. You can feel it infecting your mind as your body starts to swell. Your shirt rips open as your stomach surges forward, growing into a thick beer belly that resembles that of the dragon. Your flat chest also grows into two soft breasts that lay on your gut. Your pants don't last long either as your thighs thicken to the point of ripping through them."

Similar to John, Dan starts to swell out of his clothes. He grows a ball belly that lays on his lap and two fat man tits that sag into his gut. His love handles squeeze against the arms of his chair, threatening to break through them.

"I... I want to... resist."

"It is too late to resist, the spell has reached your mind and has started erasing your core values and memories, leaving you as a blank slate. Meanwhile, your body starts to take on draconic features, just like your master. Your elven features melt away as a thick snout grows on your face with tusks and rows of sharp teeth. Horns grow on your head as red scales cover your face, making you look nearly identical to your master, save for the long neck. The red scales grow all over your plump body as a thick tail emerges right above your fat ass."

Dan's human features quickly morph into those of a dragon, just like his elven counterpart. The snout, sharp teeth, and horns, along with the red scales covering his body. Though he's forced out of his seat when his tail grows in, making it impossible for him to sit in any ordinary chair. As he gets back up, he flashes the table with his thick dragon dick, now that he's got nothing to cover himself up.

"I... Must serve... My master."

"As the spell finalizes, you are left as a loyal young dragon, eager to serve his master and one day grow strong like him. The spell makes it so that every time you do what his master says, you will grow, eventually becoming an elder dragon just like your master. Your master puts you down just as your party arrives."

"Dan? What happened?"

"My master made me a good dragon."

"Why is that dragon pretending to be Dan?"

"That is Dan, you dumbass! The dragon must have cast a dragons seal on him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have to kill the dragon."

"I would never let my master get hurt."

"As the words leave your mouth, you grow. Becoming ever closer to an elder dragon."

The floor creaks as Dan grows in real life as well. Soon enough the house won't be able to contain him.

"Roll for initiative."

Eager to please his master, Dan gets a 24, going first.

"I use fire breath."

"Your snout starts to glow red before you release a continuous blast of fire towards your party. Since they both grew out of their armour, there is nothing to protect them from the intense flame. Both of you take 30 fire damage."

"I rage and charge at Dan full speed."

"You yell in anger as you start to run towards Dan, but you still haven't gotten used to your new body so it looks more like a waddle than a charge. You tuck in your shoulder and throw your immense weight into the dragon, but you simply bounce off his belly, sending ripples through his fat."

"I use my reaction to talk to John."

"You approach John as he lays on the ground and whisper into his ear, "You could have all the food you could ever imagine if you join us." John's ears perk up at the idea. perform an wisdom saving throw."

John rolls a 4.

"He convinces you right away with the promise of infinite food, Dan grows again, surpassing 9 feet. Jeremy, you're up."

"I unarmed strike Dan"

"You run at him and launch the strongest punch you can muster, but his thick fat absorbs most of the force. You deal 5 bludgeoning damage. In response, Dan grabs your head and says, "look around, all this gold could be ours if you just join us." Roll an intelligence saving throw"

Jeremy rolls a 6.

"The glowing treasure leaves you awestruck, and you take his deal. Once again causing him to grow."

Dan hits 10 feet, his head hitting the ceiling and his gut pushing against the table. There is not enough room in there to hold him.

"The three of you happily join the dragon for eternity under the promise of food and riches. Dan continues to grow closer and closer to an elder dragon, John eats until he's unable to leave the cave even if he wanted to, and Jeremy is simply too stupid to resist the dragons persuasion. You lose."

"We lost?"

Jeremy twiddles his thumbs, waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

"It's not a loss if you ask me."

John chuckles as he stuffs his face with food.

"As long as my master is happy, I'm happy."

Dan's head breaks through the roof.

"Don't beat yourself up, big guy. At least you had fun."

The DM approached Jeremy, massaging his massive muscles. His hands slowly drifted down to Jeremy's dick, revealing his ulterior motive. He's got all three of his friends under his control, exactly where he wants them.

[mona-risms]

Can’t stop thinking about reader’s family and friends not believing them when they say that they’re dating rumi, bc 1. Rumi is a worldwide famous popstar and 2. Rumi is a literal goddess in her own right and reader is just going insane trying to prove that Rumi is actually their girlfriend.

The moment I saw this ask come through I really did just have to run over here bc as someone with a large family, white siblings and two fuckass extended family ahh friend groups this felt like an obligation. Ofc different groups may respond differently, but 😜

Telling your friends would be a Challenge aka they'll probably laugh your ass out the door. How the fuck did YOU??? Bag THAT fine piece of ass HELLO????? Like okay bae and I'm actually Tom Holland's side piece it's time to wake back up to reality 🫶. You need like proof in pictures, receipts in messages and preferrably her right in front of them. It feels like you're going through an immigration checkpoint. When they actually see that Oh you're Not actually bullshitting and this is actually #holyfcknairball? "THEM?????? REALLY" but tbh at the end of the day they'd support it easily. If you have K-Pop enthusiasts in your group they'll probably freak out and faint but they'll be back up later asking for autographs from her and the other members. My friends would threaten me if I ever fumbled personally

Rumi finds it funny asf but also she's kinda like "my bad", half laughing at you and half sincere bc wow you fr have to prove you're not just being DELUSIONAL. It's okay she'll kiss you in front of them if they want proof, she'll take Any excuse to kiss you :3c

Family would be another thing. You wouldn't even need to supply proof though, she'd wanna make a good first impression on her own. She'd bring like food baskets and gifts and everything, getting to know your family and all that. She'll basically do all the work for you and next thing you know she's basically already invited to the gc and whatever sort of family gatherings you have 🤷‍♀️ atp wedding her would just become a formality LMFAO but if you fumble this they'll kill you. Joke. Maybe. Who knows. But she's like the most likeable person out there, parents fucking love her and yours probably won't be an exception—can't help but stare at how easily she can just. Do it like "is it PR training or is this just like natural for you" "🥰"

My mum would love her and she's very Traditional so 💀. My siblings would personally also laugh me out the door too 🫶 hate them (love them)

[ninisdollie]

redhanded - murata fuma 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖

request!! ✾ ࣪ ‌ ࣭

“In which Fuma catches his girlfriend being a bad girl.”

⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x fuma, established relationship, masturbating (f), fingering, edging, dom! fuma, dirty talking, overstimulation, squirting.

“Don’t touch yourself until i get back.”

Fuma had warned you, before leaving for work. You’d nodded, like the good girl you were.

But now you were alone. And you missed him, and you were needy.

The silence in the apartment was unbearable, heavy and suffocating, making it so easy to get your thoughts loud in your mind. Your skin prickled, hot with the memory of the way he’d looked at you earlier, the way he’d said mine when you tried to act bratty, the way his hand slipped between your thighs under the table at breakfast and then just… stopped. Left you aching. You were still aching just where he’d touched you.

You had changed positions on the couch a hundred times, trying to distract yourself. TV on, then off. Scrolling through your phone, tossing it aside. Made a snack, listened to music, read a book. Nothing was helping, Your thighs squeezed together more and more often, without thinking.

Your body was on fire, and you needed him, or release.

So your hand drifted.

Just resting on your stomach at first, finger pads against the soft skin under your tank top, but then lower. You sighed when your fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, just grazing skin. Just to test, you tell yourself.

But the second your fingertips brush over your clit, featherlight, just once, your hips jolt, a low gasp breaking out of you. You were sensitive, raw, needy. Your breath hitched as you did it again. Slower this time, asoft circle. Then another. You let your eyes flutter closed, head tipping back against the cushions, legs falling further apart like your body giving in before you even did.

Your mind started to drift, you imagined it was Fuma’s hand instead. His fingers, thicker, rougher, more confident, even more experienced. He knew exactly how to make you melt. He growled when you whimpered, called you greedy, needy, his dirty little girl. Your free hand grabbed a cushion and you pressed it over your mouth, trying to stay quiet as you started to rub tighter circles over your clit. Your panties were soaked, thin cotton clinging to your folds, sliding as your fingers moved.

You were panting now, soft and desperate. You pressed harder. Then again. You were close — already — the shame and heat and knowing he told you not to only making it worse. Your legs were shaking, thighs flexing, heels digging into the couch cushions, your hand moving faster now, sloppy and wet. The tension coiled deep in your stomach, tighter with every breath, every drag of your fingertips over your swollen clit.

Sweat gathered at the small of your back, between your breasts. The whole room felt too warm, like the air was thick with sin. You were clenching around nothing, needy and pulsing, the slick sound of your fingers moving between your legs making your face burn with shame.

“Fuck,” you whispered into the pillow, arching your back, your eyes shut.

Fuma would be so mad if he saw you like this.

If he saw you sprawled out, disobeying him, moaning his name in a broken breath like he’s the only thing your body responds to. The thought of it sent you spiraling closer. You pressed your fingers harder, hips grinding up, chasing that sweet electric snap. You were so close. So fucking close—

Then the door opened.

You froze, every muscle in your body locked up, your eyes open in pure panic.

Heavy, quiet footsteps. A bag drops to the floor.

“Baby, i’m back!”

You ripped your hand out of your shorts, shoving the pillow over your lap like that could erase what he’ll clearly smell in the air.Sex, heat and guilt. Your fingers were still wet. Your chest still heaving, your pupils still wide.

Fuma appeared in the hallway, and stopped the second he saw you. You were caught red handed. His eyes flicked down to the pillow you were clutching to your core. To your flushed cheeks. To your trembling thighs and bitten lips.

Then he tilted his head, dark eyes narrowing. “Oh, baby,” he said, voice like a knife wrapped in velvet. “You didn’t.”

You couldn’t even answer. Shame and fear and guilt showering your body.

“Tell me you weren’t about to come all over your fingers,” he murmured. “After I explicitly told you not to.”

You swallowed hard.

“Fuma—”

He chuckled, low and humorless. Then leaned down, one hand gripping the back of the couch beside your head.“You just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” His nose brushed your cheek, his breath hot. “That desperate for it? You were going to come without me?”

And then he grabbed your wet hand, brought your fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth one by one.

“You know how this ends.”

Time stopped making sense the second he stripped you bare and opened your legs right there in the couch. Now your body is nothing but a raw, pulsing nerve. Every breath feels shallow, your thighs ache from trembling, and the only thing keeping you grounded is Fuma’s voice. You’re not even sure how long it’s been at this point, maybe even more than an hour.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, fingers slowly thrusting into you again. “So fucking perfect, baby. Taking it like I knew you would.” You’re not even sure if you’re crying or sweating anymore. Your body hurts with how much you need it, clit swollen, throbbing, untouched for too long, your walls pulsing around him, you’re dripping so much the leather of the couch is soaked and sticky with your fluids, while he keeps working you open, over and over again.

He keeps pulling you back from the edge for hours.

The worst part is how gentle he is. He kisses your thighs, your mouth, your neck. He wipes your tears and pets your hair. He praises you. “You feel that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, curling his fingers deep inside you, brushing deliciously against your g-spot. “That flutter? That clench? You’re right there again.”

And you are. You’re so close, your stomach tightening, hips rolling down into his hand like your body’s chasing it without permission. “Please,” you gasp, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Fuma, I— I can’t—” “Yes, you can,” he says softly, his thumb barely brushing your clit. Your whole body jolts.

He pulls away again.

You scream.

It’s not even a real sound, it’s broken,m and helpless. You’re a wreck beneath him, body shaking, thighs soaked and sticky from how many times he’s brought you to the edge just to deny you. “Breathe, baby,” he soothes, pressing his lips to your temple. “It’s okay. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.” Your hands clutch at your sides, your chest rising and falling like you’re drowning in heat. “I-I need— I need—” He kisses you, slow and open-mouthed, tongue sliding over yours as his fingers push back in, so deep it makes you sob against his mouth. “I know what you need,” he whispers. “But that’s not the point, is it?” He shifts down, between your thighs again. Spreads them open gently, like you aren’t soaked and overstimulated and out of your mind. He licks you slowly, tongue dragging up through your folds, careful not to touch your clit, and your hips buck off the couch like you’ve been shocked.

He just holds you down with one arm across your stomach. “Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, tongue dipping inside you, savoring every drop. “You wanted to come without permission, so now I’m going to make you earn it.”

So he keeps doing it, again and again and again.

Every time you get close, he pulls away. Kisses your inner thigh and whispere praise. Lets your body cool off for just a minute before starting over.

By the fifth time you’re sobbing.

By the eigth you’re begging.

“I’ll be good,” you cry, hands fisting in his hair. “I’ll do anything, Fuma, please just let me—”

You don’t even recognize the sounds you’re making anymore. They’re desperate, gasps and choked sobs, high-pitched whimpers that leave your mouth without thought. Spit falls from the corner of your mouth, tears soaking your cheeks and blurring your view, your brain spinning. You’re not even speaking in words, just pleading with your body.

You’ve been edged so many times you’ve forgotten what it feels like to actually let go.

“Now.”

You barely register the word, but your body knows. Your whole spine arches up off the bed as his fingers drive into you againx harder, deeper, relentless now. Perfectly curved, slamming hard against your g-spot, wet sounds coming out of you between your legs, his palm crashing with your clit. No more pulling back.

Just him fucking you with his hand like he owns every inch of your body.

“You hear me, baby?” he breathes, voice rough against your cheek as he kisses you hard. “You come for me. Right now.”

You scream.The orgasm rips through you so fast and so hard it feels like your body might snap in half. Your thighs clamp around his wrist, your hands claw at his shoulders, and your whole body spasms under him, wet and shaking and completely out of control. His fingers keep going, curling deep inside you, fucking you through it, pushing you higher, deeper into the climax until you’re sobbing into his neck. “That’s it,” he groans. “That’s my girl. Let it all out.”

Your release gushes out of you, soaking his hand, the couch, your thighs, the floor. You don’t even know where your limbs are, just that you’re trembling, overwhelmed, your core pulsing hard around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you in waves. “Fuck,” he breathes, watching you fall apart. “My messy little thing.” You twitch when his thumb brushes your clit again, your body still raw and trembling from the peak he finally let you have. He slows down gradually, his fingers softening inside you, no longer punishing, just soothing, grounding you while you come down from the high that’s still unraveling your muscles.

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. You nod weakly, tears drying on your skin, completely spent, boneless beneath him. His fingers slip out of you slowly, and he kisses your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach. “You did so good for me,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

And then he pulls you into his chest , warm, comforting and proud. And holds you like he didn’t just wreck you completely. Because even if you disobey him sometimes, you’re still his good girl.

[noctiva]

sorry guys I’m angsty today. here’s how some of the boys would break up w you.

Toby: Loud and messy. More angry than sad (the grief will come later). Tears streaming down his cheeks and shaking hands as he points an accusing finger at you. His entire body taut like he’s holding himself back from lashing out further. Calls you every name in the book. Says shit so cruel you’re left wondering how long those thoughts have been stewing in his brain.

Cuts you off in the middle of a sentence by storming out and slamming the door so hard it makes you ears ring. It’s the last time you ever see him.

You would really have to push him to the absolute brink for this to happen. Toby’s always one to try and work things out instead of letting his emotions get the best of him. He loves hard, and it’s unwavering. You’d have to do something pretty damn horrible for that to be snuffed out completely.

- “I c-can’t believe I wasted so much time on someone like you.”

-

Jack: Silent but brutal. Clinical and apathetic. He won’t be the one to actually start the fight or utter the final blow, he’ll just slowly push you away and ice you out until you’re the one to sever the ties. You can practically feel the affection leech out of him over the course of a few months. Doesn’t touch you unless you initiate it. His tone with you gets drier, more detached. Like the words you speak are muffled, and he’s just responding off of autopilot

When you finally do decide to end things, he doesn’t flinch. Barely bats an eye. He won’t fight you. He’ll agree the moment you even suggest splitting up. His ears twitch at the quiver in your voice but he won’t comment on it.

You’ll probably storm out out of frustration over his complete and utter nonchalance. He’ll be gone by the time you get back.

- “If that’s what you want.”

-

Brian: Completely out of left field. Completely blindsides you to the inner workings of his mind. Thought about ending it for months, but didn’t let it show even a little bit - continued on as normal, plastered that same old charming smile on his face, let the pet names roll off of his tongue just as smoothly as always. All while plotting the easiest way to let you down. He’s always been uncannily good at keeping his true intentions hidden, the mask he wears indistinguishable from his true self. Shame you didn’t find that out until it was too late.

He’ll take you out for a drive one night. Start the conversation out like normal. But when the silence between you starts to stretch, it feels heavier than it ever has. When he finally speaks again, he doesn’t beat around the bush. No sugarcoating, no preheating the dread by starting off with ‘we need to talk’. He just says it, point blank. Peers at you out of the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction.

And of course you’re shocked. Of course you cry. But it doesn’t really phase him. He’s been preparing for this for ages now. When he comforts you, it sounds hollow.

He’ll drop you off at home with a weight lifted off his shoulders.

- “You didn’t actually expect to marry me, did you?”

-

Tim: He just leaves. Crawls out of bed while you sleep and silently packs his things into the closet bag he can find. He probably forgets a few things in the rush. He won’t miss them, but they’ll ruin your entire mood anytime you come across one of his old socks, or notice that his toothbrush is still sitting by the sink.

He’ll write you a note and leave it on your bedside table. Telling you how he’s sorry he was too much of a coward to say all of this to your face, but it’s just easier this way. He knew you’d cry. He knew you’d beg for him to stay. Doing it this way was a much cleaner break - on his end, at least.

He’ll tuck the sheets over you gently, lets his gaze linger on your face for a few moments too long - nearly long enough for him to just crawl back in bed and let this whole plan go to hell. But, that subsides rather quickly as his eyes scan across your sleeping face. You look so calm. So serene. So sweet.

He wasn’t deserving of you and he knew it. He had known from the start.

- “This was never going to work. I know you thought it would. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

-

Cody: Just shuts you out completely. The breakup version of ��quiet quitting’. In his mind, the moment he starts to get the urge to do so - you’re already broken up. Shuts himself in his lab for hours on end and doesn’t let you in like he used to. Makes up excuses about how it ‘needs to be a sterile environment’ and that he ‘can’t afford distractions’.

Goes back to wearing his gloves around you. Wanting that barrier that he had broken down for you to go right back up again. Brushes you off every time you try to make plans with him. Short, one word answers every time you speak. Like Jack, his ultimate goal is for you to just get fed up and end things before he can, but unlike Jack - he’s less patient.

It irritates him how you try to cling on. How you just roll over and let him treat you like this just because you’re reluctant to lose him.

One day, he’ll just hit you with it. Short and sweet. And he’s walking back off and locking himself up in his lab before you can even get a reply out.

- “Your inability to take a hint is mind boggling. We’re done. Why can’t you get that?”

-

Habit: Kills you. He had joked about it when you first got together. How once he’s tired of you, he’ll just lob your pretty head clean off. It wasn’t actually a joke. You should’ve probably guessed that.

He just can’t be bothered. Would much rather avoid everything that came with a real, formal breakup. The tears, the bartering, the desperate pleas. All just trivial human emotions that irritate him so much it makes him feel nauseous. He’d much rather just put an end to that before it can even start.

How he does it depends on what mood you catch him in. Maybe he’s feeling merciful and does it in your sleep. Slits your throat so quick that you barely even have time to wake up before you’re choking on your own blood. Maybe he’s just fed up. Strangles you with his bare hands jusy so that he can watch the fear flood into your eyes - knowing that he’s serious this time.

Doesn’t even bury you. Throws you in a lake and walks off like nothing happened.

- “I told you this would happen.”

[beyondbluess]

with you

dallas winston x fem! reader

summary: dallas decides to join you on the front porch one chilly night. warning: fluff fluff fluff. not sure why i keep putting out fluff when i really love angst. not proofread; wrote this at two in the morning and didn't finish much later. author's note: so sorry for the lack of fics! definitely would've something out sooner but writer's block has been terrible. i'm trying to work on requests so bare with me.

Laughter was bouncing off every corner of the Curtis residence, a contrast to the chill nipping at your skin on the front porch. You couldn’t remember why you were out there or how long—you just needed to get away from the noise, at least for a while.

The front door opens and shuts from behind in a matter of seconds, but you didn’t bother to check to see who it was. 

“Y’alright?” 

You finally turned around to see Dallas, a hint of concern in his eyes. When you didn’t respond, he muttered something inaudible before sitting beside you on the cold concrete—his eyes never leaving your form. 

“Just.. needed to get away from the noise,” you replied, hugging yourself to keep warm. Dallas noticed this, taking off his leather jacket and placing it over your shoulders. An action that surprised you. 

Both of you sat in silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sounds of the crickets chirping. Something about the combination gave Dallas a sense of unease. 

“Doll, c’mon,” he bursts out, turning his whole body to look at you, brows creasing in further concern. “What’s eatin’ at you?”

You shrugged, lifting your knee to rest your arm on it. Dallas groaned in annoyance, lifting his hip to grab a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket to offer you one, but ended up respectfully declining. He soon pulled out his own to light it before easing into another moment of silence with you.

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

Dallas didn’t respond to this at first, as if he didn’t even know how to answer the question himself. He debated on putting out the cigarette, but stopped in his tracks. “Dunno, sometimes.”

“It’s just,” you started, finally turning your body to look at him. It’s probably the first time you’ve really looked at him all night—you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked over the moonlight. “I’ve grown up here, gotten used to seeing the same people, same places. I want to see what life is like outside of Tulsa, Dal.” 

Dallas listened to you ramble on, a smirk appearing on his face. He always liked how you were always so comfortable with him, never straying away from speaking your mind. 

“You’ve been to New York, right?” you ask, not even realizing that you’ve scooted closer to him, your hand just centimeters away from his. “What’s it like?” 

“Mainly got arrested there, sweetheart,” he replies, taking a drag out of his cigarette. His gaze followed the car that passed by, his lips forming a thin line. “Wasn’t there for fun, it’s that’s what ya askin.” 

You hummed at this, shifting your attention towards the ground in front of you. Dallas’ hand moved closer to yours, fingers now lightly touching. Neither of you felt like moving. 

Eventually, the excitement inside fizzled out, leaving the occasional chatter and the sound of footsteps throughout the house. Dallas knew that the conversation from earlier still lingered on your mind—what life is like outside of Tulsa. He wanted you to have that experience; he wanted to be with you for it. 

“Hey, doll?”

You turned to face him, raising your eyebrow in curiosity. There were a few seconds where he didn’t say anything, simply just looked at you with those eyes. Before you could speak, he leaned in, cutting you off with a kiss. You didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. 

“Y’know, we can always go,” he murmured, a small but hopeful smile gracing his lips. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, his touch so uncharacteristically soft. 

“What are you—”

The front door opened, revealing Darry, shoulders tense from working two jobs that paid little. By now, he’s usually cleaning up and getting ready for bed, so you were surprised when he allowed everyone to stay over this late. 

“You two alright out here?” he asks, his eyes shifting between you and Dallas. He muttered out a curse at how chilly it was, pulling the door back slightly so the air wouldn’t come in completely. You wearing Dallas’ jacket doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just… talking,” You answered softly, eyes lingering on Dallas a moment longer before looking up at Darry. “Everything okay?” 

“Jus’ realized that y’all haven’t eaten yet,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, a soft groan escaping from exhaustion. “Figured ya wanted somethin’.”

You were about to answer, but your stomach did it for you—grumbling. A small chuckle escaped Dallas’ lips, making you swat his shoulder playfully. You got up from the porch, dusting off your jeans, looking down at him.

“You coming, Dally?”

“Uh, yeah, jus’ give me a minute,” he muttered, taking another cigarette out of the pack to light, but instead just held it between his fingers, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer, something about your presence giving him a sense of ease. 

You were about to take off his jacket to give it back, but he shook his head—something about how it looked better on you than it did him. Darry moved aside so you could come inside, the warmth welcoming and inviting. He looked down at Dallas, giving him a knowing look.

“So you and—“

“Shut up.”

requests are open !

[silver-fox-central]

I remember my nerves when I sent that first message asking you if maybe what we had was more than friendship. The flutter in my stomach as I hit send. The way I'd keep checking my phone, breathing just a tiny bit quicker. Had to go into work that day and pretend like I wasn't having a minor existential crisis. Re-reading the message, wondering what you'd say, I'd I'd read too much into it, if maybe you didn't feel the same and I'd fucked up the most profound friendship of my life. Kept checking our chat to see if you'd replied, knowing I'd have to wait, wondering what I'd do if you didn't respond. Worried that you'd think me too forward, that I was pushing things too far, too fast. That I'd misinterpreted things between us. I was still figuring out my own feelings, but I knew they were more than just friendly. Not that I knew how to express that. Or that I had any experience in anything even remotely romantic - or physical, for that matter. But all I wanted was to try. To figure it out. Together. My fingers trembled when you replied, trying to unlock my phone, too excited to even *breathe*. The exhilaration when you reciprocated, confirming that you too felt similarly. The wave of relief that washed over me. The way my heart *ached* at the thought we'd get to figure this out together, now that it was out in the open.

Maybe that's why it cut me so deeply when years later you told me you'd just "willingly gone along with it". To have my own vulnerability weaponised against me. To make me feel... Predatory. Making me believe I'd used you. Coaxed you into wanting this. Forced you into this thing neither of us could fully explore because we never even had the chance to start figuring it out. That it was me that was the problem. My fault. My doing. My misdeeds. And I understand why, I do. I get that you felt... Rejected. Abandoned in your time of need. That you had the person you relied on shut down and distance themselves from you. I know that's what it must have felt like. I'm still trying to forgive myself for that.

But I wonder... Do you even know the ways in which you hurt me? Do you understand just how deeply the damage goes of the wounds you dealt me? Do you really? Or were you too blinded by your own pain and grief to see the bloody gashes you left behind whilst lashing out? Too caught up in your own fear to see where you clawed at me, trying to stop me from leaving?

I used to think we were just friends, but now I can’t tell if I’m in love with you or just the idea of you. I just wish I knew whether you feel the same.