#in time in time. i need to just do what i can in a given moment. and it'll be enough for myself. n i'll keep on improving n i'll get better

[amoressb]

───── NOT THE SAME 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ after many efforts to bring back your old riki, for it to go back to how you two used to be, you walk away but he realizes it all too late..or is it? ｡｡ ɪᴅᴏʟ ʙꜰ!ʀɪᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

MINOR ANGST TO FLUFF & wc. 1900 / make sure to read part 1 !! ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

he doesn’t notice it at first. the silence.

he’s used to his phone buzzing constantly with notifications : rehearsal calls, staff messages, reminders. he doesn’t realize what’s missing until he opens his lunch one day and instinctively thinks to take a picture for you. to show you the mess of rice and eggs and the smiley face someone drew in ketchup on top, but when he opens your chat, there’s nothing new.

not even a heart emoji. not even a “have you eaten today, baby?”

it hits him then how quiet everything has become without you. his fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure. he types something. deletes it. types again.

hey.

can we talk?

it’s vague, useless and worst of all..late. still, he sends it. and when your reply doesn’t come, he doesn’t blame you.

it’s not that he stopped loving you. not ever.

he loved you when he was tired. he loved you when he didn’t have the words. he loved you through every missed good morning, every evening where he chose sleep over calling you, every time he told himself, “i’ll text her later,” and forgot.

but love without presence starts to feel like absence and you had felt it over and over again.

he thinks about that last night more than he’d admit.

the way your voice cracked. the way you looked down at the floor instead of him. the way you left. not angry, not screaming, just…defeated.

the truth is, that broke him more than any fight could have. because you were always the one who stayed. even when he made it hard. even when he didn’t deserve you. you stayed…until it was him you needed to be saved from.

“riki.”

he blinks up. it’s jake, crouched in front of him in the practice room. “you good?” jake asks. riki realizes his eyes are red. he rubs his sleeve across his face.

“i messed up.” jake tilts his head. “with y/n?”

riki doesn’t even need to answer. the guilt’s written all over him.

“i didn’t mean to push her away. i just…” he looks down. “i didn’t know how to hold everything. the schedules. the pressure. her. me.” jake’s voice is gentle. “then go remind her why she chose you in the first place.”

the next day, he goes to your campus.

he’s never been good at speeches. not the vulnerable kind at least, but this matters more than any performance he’s ever given. so he wears the hoodie you gave him, the one with the tiny “y/f/i” stitched on the cuff, and waits.

you appear like a breath he’s been holding. you look…tired. but you always do when you’re thinking hard. your brows drawn slightly together, hair falling into your eyes, thumb scrolling across your phone.

you don’t see him until he’s standing in front of you. your body goes still.

he lifts a hand, hesitant. “can i sit?” you nod slowly. no words yet. you don’t owe him those. the bench is cold beneath him. your silence colder.

he shifts a little, turning to face you more. “i’ve been thinking about what i said. or what i didn’t say.” you keep your gaze forward, expression unreadable.

“i think i convinced myself you’d always be there,” he admits. “that you’d wait. that i didn’t have to try.”

your fingers clutch your sleeve. he sees it. your knuckles white from holding yourself still.

“i was wrong,” he says. “and i’m sorry. not just for the words i didn’t say, but for every time i looked at my phone and didn’t answer. for every day you tried to love me while i was too scared to love you out loud.”

you finally look at him. he breaks a little when he sees your eyes, that familiar storm of hurt and hope behind them.

“i thought if i kept my distance, maybe i wouldn’t fall deeper,” he says. “but it just made me realize something worse : i’ve already fallen so deep into you, y/n. and pushing you away didn’t protect me. it only ruined the one good thing i had.”

you breathe out. “so why now?”

“because not having you is worse than anything I was afraid of.” he fumbles in his pocket and pulls something out. “and because i need you to see that i remember the little things, too.”

you look down at his hand.

a tiny lego minifigure sits in his palm.

it looks like him, down to the blonde hair, oversized pants and a tiny sign that says, “i love my girlfriend.”

your lip trembles. you cover your mouth, shaking your head with a breathy laugh. “you’re such a dork.”

he grins, hopeful. “you used to call me your ‘cutie patootie.’ i wanted to remind you that i’m still that guy.”

“i didn’t forget,” you say quietly. “i just thought maybe you did.”

his smile fades a little. he nods. “i did. for a while, but i remember now and i want to keep remembering. every day. every version of you, every small thing you love, and every hard thing you’re scared to say out loud.”

you’re quiet for a long time. he doesn’t push. he just watches you, gently, patiently, like he finally understands what it means to wait for someone with care.

you speak at last. “i don’t know if i’m ready to go back to how things were.”

“i don’t want to go back,” he says. “i want to start again. better. softer.”

your eyes meet his and for the first time in weeks, something in you starts to thaw. you reach over and take the lego from his hand. then, slowly, your fingers find his.

you lace them together. “i’ll give you a chance,” you whisper. “but you have to keep showing up. even when it’s hard. especially then.”

“i will,” he says, firm. “every day.”

you lean against his shoulder, just for a second. his hoodie smells like clean laundry and faint cologne. like comfort…like memory.

he turns his head, lips brushing your hair. “thank you,” he murmurs. “for not giving up on me. i’ll never make you feel alone again.”

and you believe him. because his time, he’s not saying it to fix things. he’s saying it to rebuild them.

that night, you lie next to each other again. not tangled up, not rushing. just close.

his pinky wraps around yours and when he finally drifts off to sleep with your name still on his lips, it feels like something is blooming again—slow and tender, but real. like love, the second time around.

bonus/extra

time skip : 3 weeks later

it’s different now. not perfect. not how it used to be. but that’s okay. because you’ve both stopped trying to go backward.

instead, you’re building something new, quietly, day by day.

riki shows up every time now. no matter how tired. no matter how long the rehearsals run. sometimes he just sits on facetime with you in silence, head drooping from exhaustion, but still there.

he sends you random updates again—a blurry photo of a ladybug on his shoe. a voice memo of sunghoon snoring on the couch. a video of him poking a lego keychain dangling from his bag that has your initial in your favorite color.

“i told the stylists i’m never taking it off,” he said in that clip, grinning. “so they’re just working around it now.”

you laughed when you saw it.

you haven’t said i love you again yet. neither has he but you’re getting close.

it’s a sunday when he asks if you want to come over.

“just for a little while,” he says. “the guys won’t be home. you hesitate..then nod.

when you arrive, he meets you downstairs. no one’s watching, but he still tucks you into his arms the moment you reach him—your face pressed into his hoodie, his arms wound tight around your waist like he’s afraid the wind might carry you away if he lets go.

“you okay?” he asks against your hair. you nod but when you whisper, “are you?” he pulls back enough to look at you.

his eyes are soft. no panic behind them anymore. just care. just you. “i am now,” he says.

the dorm is quiet. he makes you tea, the way you like it, with a little too much honey and no judgment.

you sit together on the couch, knees brushing. at some point, your head finds his shoulder. his hand finds your knee. it stays there, warm and gentle. it’s not rushed.

you talk about everything but the past. the cat that keeps showing up outside your apartment. the way jake cried watching a sad movie last night. a tiny crack in your phone screen that looks like a lightning bolt now.

you look at him. he’s watching you like you’re a painting.

“what?” you ask, self conscious. he shakes his head, smiling. “i just really missed your voice.” you blink slowly. “you’ve been hearing it every day.”

“yeah,” he says softly. “but today it sounds…happy.”

you don’t answer. instead, you reach for his hand. it’s such a simple gesture but his breath stutters. and then his fingers squeeze yours.

later, it’s raining. you curl up together under a blanket, legs tangled, his arm tucked under your neck. the television plays something mindless, but neither of you are really watching.

rikis hand is tracing slow, steady patterns on your arm. his pinky looping over and over a patch of skin just above your elbow. he’s been quiet for a while.

you shift slightly, look up at him.

“are you still scared?” you ask. his eyes meet yours. honest. a little vulnerable.

“yeah,” he admits. “every day but not the way i used to be.”

you wait. he exhales. “i’m not scared of losing you anymore. i’m scared of ever giving you a reason to feel that lonely again.”

you sit up, facing him. his eyes flick to your lips then back to your eyes.

you touch his cheek, brushing your thumb over the soft skin just under his eye. he leans into your palm—instinctive. needy.

“riki,” you whisper. “you’ve changed.”

“i’m still changing,” he says. “for you. for us.”

you stare at him a moment longer. he doesn’t rush you. he never does now. and then, slowly, you nod. “i trust you again.” he freezes.

his hand, still on your waist, tightens just slightly not possessive, just overwhelmed.

“say it again,” he murmurs, like he’s not sure he heard right.

you smile. “i trust you.” he breathes out shakily, eyes glassy. “that means more than i know how to say.”

“then don’t say anything,” you whisper.

he doesn’t. instead, he leans in, and this time…you meet him halfway.

the kiss is quiet, soft, reverent. it’s not rushed or hungry. it doesn’t taste like desperation. it tastes like peace.

like something broken being held carefully in two hands. not trying to erase the cracks, but tracing them gently, gratefully.

you both pull away slowly. his forehead rests against yours.

“i’m gonna keep earning that trust every day,” he whispers. “i know,” you say and this time, you believe it.

outside, the rain begins to let up. inside, you’re tangled up again. in warmth, in blankets, in each other.

he falls asleep before you do, breathing even and face buried in your neck. you just stay like that safe, loved…home again.

⋆｡°✩ @cheruphic @liwinly @chrrific @hyukabean @ijustwannareadstuff20 @jellyluv4eva @veilstqr @soona-huh @jenjnk @maewphoria @arimmortel @hyeitsrim @jayshadoww @monniemons @intravnus @yuuuraaa @rikifever @skyearby @polyanka777 @nikismyprincesses @danlovestay @firstclassjaylee @rikislady @kirakun

[dilf-docs]

Atta Girl

old jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel miller discovers the world, yes, the same world that has gone (been for a while) to shit, can still have surprises. like you, his sweet naive unexperienced girlfriend, being everything but that.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (old joel miller my GILF!), smut, sighs this is pwp who am i lying to, inexperienced!reader (yet for some reason she's a pro sucker lmao i'm a virgin don't come at me besides this is a fanfic who gives af if it's realistic or not), dirty talk, fingering, breast play, pussy pronouns, oral (m. receiving) (need that geriartric cock inside my mouth), some fluff bc we gotta balance this thing or i'm going to hell (okay he's not mean i baited y'all. mean jackson joel miller piece is still in draft dungeon)

word count: 4,722 words

side note: hell-fucking-o????? 2K CITIZENSHIPS APPROVED!?! ,, ok gonna be honest when i started writing in here and my first fic (an old man logan one, do u guys see a pattern?) i never thought i'd make it this far and it's all thanks to you my lovely citizens :,) you may think this is silly but your support means a lot to me (especially comments n' rb I'M A WHORE FOR THEM). now, yapping aside, as promised, this won the poll for the celebratory piece, so here you go !!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Joel Miller is a man hard to surprise.

Years of weariness, trust and spirit broken by things that would kill anyone else, and overall, just surviving, you'd think that a man that was hardened by a rough past and of his age had seen it all.

Joel liked to think he was prepared for whatever life threw at him. Enter Ellie: how she had managed to break his shell, from cargo to soothing balm to heal old open wounds he refused to even speak of. But he was ready to burn the world for her, picking guns and taking lives to bring her to a home. His home. He settled, filial terms silent but felt, ready to take the second chance life had given him. Until the bond that united them turned fragile, loose ends tensing the silver string of found family.

He fell down the path of a familiar ache he hadn't felt in a long time, dormant, waiting for him to fuck up to show again with it's dull and hollow torment. He always did. So now he's spending too much time at the Tipsy Bison nursing a glass that could have his name by now, all to avoid going to a eerily quiet home where the room at the end of the hallway lies empty.

And then life decides to startle his track, albeit destructive, with a third chance: you.

Just thinking about you brings a certain tingle that an old rugged man like him should be embarrased about. One he shouldn't even feel.

But Joel loves you, he thinks. From the moment you showed up on his front door, rambling about some reparations at the school, were you volunteered.

"They were all scared of you" your sweet voice had said, some of that unreasonable fear laced within it, "so I came"

He scoffed at Jackson's ridiculous antics. Rumors spread fast in the small town, and suddenly, the hanging threat of who he was followed him everywhere like a shadow, which, given the dark nature of his now put to rest violence, seemed a proper description.

"They sent 'cha?"

You were clearly intimidated, given your shaky frame despite spring and the light tremble in your tone. But you were still here, gaze set on him as a determined child who wants to win the best prize.

"No. I chose to come"

His stomach does a flip at the stillness of your words, security etched in the statement as if you hadn't been in the verge of stuttering seconds ago.

Like you wanted to show him this is what it is, and whatever that was, you weren't running. But he testes the water, skin prickling intensely.

"And you ain't scared, kid?"

He laughed, the type of laugh that shakes your body with unease, but the one that shot across you didn't come from a place of distress, rather a more hidden one, between a pulsing press between your ribs, like it'd swallow you whole if you kept thinking about it too much.

"I am" you answered truthfully.

Something about your quiet admission made him falter the tiniest bit. Maybe it was how you had no problem voicing out loud any of your thoughts, or how you weren't afraid to be seen for what you were, the quiet of your answer out of a gentle place and not dread.

"Then why are ya' still here?"

Brows furrowed, like he, for some reason, expected you to yell at him for all the sins that colored his calloused hands red. Instead, you had looked at him as if he had all the answers in the world, big sparkling eyes staring deep into his tainted soul.

"Because I need you"

Yet, when you said it, Joel felt you weren't talking about the creaky drawers and old stairs anymore, but of the anchor you just found for yourself in the shape of Jackson's most respected and troubled resident, unknowing that, in that moment, he had chosen you too.

So, Joel may have forgotten about what feelings that feel too before world-ly feel like, but the quiet steady beat of his heart, mingling into a peaceful symphony with each soft breath past your rosy lips, head laying over his rising and falling chest, warm, feels exactly like love is.

He knew from the very first time you were his. Yeah, he loves you.

Joel just wants to give you the world, his world: the quiet afternoons, his rough limbs and aching joints, his face covered by spots and sun kisses that compliment his wrinkles, hair that gets curlier and softer and greyer, every figure he makes in his little shop and, of course, his bed.

Your Joel isn't exactly a pleaser, used of doing what he deems best without asking, yet, the moment you uttered those three words, he knew it was because he hadn't met you.

"Be my first"

He remembers the surprise on his face, how it grew red as the silence stretched on. The door bursting open, bed creaking under combined weight and your giggles. He too remembers the sweet cries past your lips, your taut muscles, the little strained breath you let out when he slipped inside of you. It all belonged to him because you let him, and that day, Joel Miller became the luckiest man in the world.

And yet, he still hadn't been as surprised as he was today.

The routine was the same from the past year: pick you up from the school after he was done at the office, taking some minutes to watch you with the toddlers, making voices as the same tender hands you used to jerk him off booped noses and carried children who made him think of getting one of your own, one with your grace and beauty, getting him painfully hard at images of filling you silly and your body changing to carry his seed. Fuck. He was a psychopath for such lewd thoughts on a place destined for education and infancy innocence, and here he was, cock uncomfortable inside his pants.

But then your mouth gets too greedy when your sickenly honeyed voice whispers his name, robbing him of air and only pulling away when his lips get swollen and his face a little flustered.

"Need help down there?"

There's always that problem and you're always the solution.

"Let's go home, sugar. Then ya' can help 'tis ol' man fix it"

Walking back home is always a hassle, hands intertwined, Jackson seeing a cute couple. But you're both aware of the throb that settles in between you like the tension, nobody noticing how hard you're trying to not just fuck on the middle of the street like two eager bunnies.

It's his fault, he thinks as you push the door of his house open, for making you like this.

The truth is, after taking your virginity, Joel's taught you things your unexperienced mind couldn't even imagine, and this past six months, you've complied with that sweet disposition that clung to you like the floral of the soap you used. And Joel loved that: how, despite having his dick stretching your tight pussy, you looked at him with those big eyes from the very first night, still round and innocent, like a doe and not a siren.

Which was surprising, because Joel, in a way, had corrupted you. Tainted the naive angel. And still, it was like he couldn't get rid of quiet shy you. Worst of it all was, instead of filling him with shame from robbing pieces and pieces of your integrity everyday, the older man felt some wicked sense of satisfaction and pride, to see how, despite his age and your soft nature, he was yours as you were his, and that he had taught you exactly how to enjoy that.

He knows you like the palm of his hand and the littered scars across his chest. The pattern you call stars, holding into a beauty only you see in the ugly marks, yet make him feel with each delicate trace, making such blunt and rough marks a galaxy; exorbitant. The same ones he thinks hide behind your adoring warm eyes. Joel just knows you, so even when things go the same way they have for a while, he's aware something is different when your fingers fiddle with his belt, trembling hands now struggling to free his aching cock.

He knows better than to think it's your arousal and impatience. No, this is something else.

"Sweetheart..." he warns. "Somethin' wrong?"

You shake your head, hands ready to take his underwear down.

"I'm fine"

He won't take that clipped sentence for an answer. Instead, his hands slowly remove yours from his hips before going to grab you by your chin, fingers pressing not enough to bruise but to make a point. His thumb presses lightly over your mouth, your bottom lip tugged down, parting your lips. You let out a little sigh, closing your eyes, eyelashes kissing your cheekbones. What a damn sight, he thinks.

"Talk to me"

"I want to suck your cock"

He almost chokes on nothing. Joel coughs a little, red painting his cheeks as a surge of lust and desire crashes through him. His eyes go wide at your bold and eager request, because one: it wasn't like you to talk like this, and two, you had never done it before.

Sure, you had jerked him off so many times he's lost count, but your lips wrapped around his length, mouth swallowing his aching cock? Just the image of it going past your pretty lips, the sensation of your spit mixed with his liquids... He already has a special place in hell, the blood rushing to his already hard member.

"Fuck, sugar. You wanna have this dick 'nside y'r mouth so bad? That eager and needy y'are?" he asked, voice reduced to a low rumble.

You nod, a little too excited as he sits in the edge of your shared bed, letting out a huff of effort. Old man sounds, you would tease. But not today, it seems, when your eyes are too busy looking at the pulsating silhouette under the grey cloth. He smirks, removing the layer, and he swears you begin to salivate like a starving dog.

"Y' think y' can take it?" his hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he watches you with a drowsy gaze. "Ain't it too much for a pretty lil' thing like y'rself?"

Wordlessly, you fall to your knees, looking up to him with those eyes of yours that drove him crazy. You caress his thigh, and despite being the one in control, Joel's eyelids feel heavy, fluttering at your soft and tender touches on his thick muscle, every hair rising at the reverence of your every move. You leave a little kiss in his inner thigh, making his heart skip a beat, breath a little ragged.

"I can" sounding so sure. Oh, his little angel.

"You gon' be a good girl then?" he whispers, voice hoarse and thick, looking down at you.

You nod, slowly.

"Let me taste it" you murmur, voice soft and breathy.

Your tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up his shaft. You savor the salty taste of his arousal, moaning softly at the flavor. Joel's brown eyes darken in seconds.

"Quit 'da teasin'. 'M too damn old for that"

You smile a bit. "Impatient"

"Minx" he replies, voice thick.

It is indeed big, especially now that it was hard, and you do wonder for a second if you're biting more than you can chew.

"Y'asked for 'tis" like he can read your mind, "don't grow shy on me, doll"

He groans when your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly as you always do. He feels the heat building in his gut as you work him over, letting out a little groan.

"F-feels so good, sugar" he voices out, strained. "But I need'a know if y'r made fo' 'tis. C'mon, princess. Show me what'a good lil' cock slut y'are"

You lean in, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his big cock, making him shudder.

"Let's see what y'r pretty mouth can do" while tracing your lips, idly.

For the first time ever, the warmth of your mouth takes him. He can see it dissapear past your lips, stretching around his girth. Joel can only watch with a breath he forgets to take how every inch of his thick cock is gone past your lips. Entranced, like this was a magic trick of some sorts.

"S' that all?" he lets out a tense chuckle. You narrow your eyes, feeling a bit of a gag and spit drool past your lips. "Don't worry, princess. I can be of help on that"

He moves a bit, groin almost on your face as he's dangerously close to fucking your face. Instead, you feel how it reaches the back of your throat, making you pause at the feeling of your eyes watering slightly as you adjust to the intrusion.

"S'okay, sweet girl. I know ya' can take it deeper" he encourages, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Relax, baby. You're doing so good-" his voice cuts off with a strained grunt. Then, he voices out in a more huskier tone. "Use y'r throat and take my cock like'a good girl"

You push forward, taking him deeper until Joel feels the head of his cock bump the back of your throat. He throws his head back, curls combed slicked now starting to dampen and fall disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, muscles of his thighs taut with trepidation.

You gag slightly yet quickly recover as if to prove something.

"That's right. Why did we wait s' long to do 'tis? Fuck, baby, ya' were born for 'tis. Keep goin'. Y' mouth's drivin' me crazy"

Joel groans as you take him deep, nose pressing against his groin, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your throat constricts around him all while you fight your gag reflex. Then slowly, you pull back, lips sliding along his shaft until just the tip remained in your warm mouth.

"Don't be such'a tease" his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. You just give him what appears to be a shrug and an apologetic smile, right before diving back in, taking him to the hilt once more. His hips rock involuntarily at the feel, your head bobbing. A guttural moan cuts through his throat, the only other sound in the room aside the wet sounds of your suckling. "S' real bad girl, hun. Wouldn't think a docile lil' doll like ya' would be s' mean"

But he watches you with such adoration in his eyes, completely captivated as you work him over, that you know his words carry no malice behind them. Without a word, he takes your hands, guiding them to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"Let's give 'em somethin' to do, don't 'cha think?"

Suddenly, the pressure ties his stomach in knots, his belly strained under his flannel shirt, slightly protruding in the middle, buttons as tense as his muscles. Joel feels his legs become shaky, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your sweet disposition. If he wasn't one lucky man.

"Y/n" he gasps your name in a choked breath, followed by a strangled grunt, his release building fast as he doesn't dare to . "I'm gonna..."

Joel tries to pull off, thinking having you wrapped around his shaft is enough sin for the day, but then your hands find their way to his legs, keeping him grounded. His eyes widen slightly at the insistent glaze in your determined eyes.

"God damn, doll. What're ya'-"

He doesn't get to finish, his words dissolving into a low, animalistic growl as his orgasm crashes over him. His cock jerks and pulses in your waiting mouth, spilling thick ropes of hot, salty cum down your eager throat, painting its back white.

"Baby, don't" Joel says through a worn down rasp, trying to pull out, but you, his sweet little girlfriend, grips his thighs with an unknown force, keeping him buried deep as you greedily work to milk every last bit of his cum.

"'S 'tis what ya' want, huh? You dirty dirty girl" his voice grows lower, a filthy snarl as his eyes darken a bit more. "Swallow it, then. Take all ma' fucken seed"

He holds your head in place, fingers tangled in your damp hair as he rides out the intense waves of his release. Joel's so inside of you, he can feel your throat working, gulping down every drop he had to give.

Finally, as the last spurts of his climax taper off, he releases you, his chest heaving with exertion. You pull back, a strand of saliva and cum connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his spent cock.

"Like that, dirty girl?" he grabs you by your chin, thumb wiping some of your saliva and his cum off. "Did ya' like the taste f' ma' cum?"

You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him. "I did"

"'S that right? What happened to my angel?"

You laugh, the sound tired and hoarse. "I'm still here"

He pats his thigh, so you sit in there, wrapping your arms around his neck. With a free hand, you remove some curls that have fallen over his worn face.

"Hard'a believe"

You click your tongue. "You were never a believer, Miller"

He lets out an exhausted chuckle. "I believe in you"

Joel revels in the delicate pink hues coating your cheeks. He's so weak for you.

"Now, doll. Be honest with y'r ol' man" he brushes a stray strand off your face, tucking it behind your ear with a delicacy so contrary to the roughness of his hands. "I know when ma' girl's goin' through somethin'"

You seem to grow shy all of the sudden. "You'd be right"

Needless to say, he's intrigued now.

"Care to tell?"

You hide your face on his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and natural odor, even the faint traces of soap. He combs through your hair, lazily.

"Promise you won't laugh" you say as you pull back, to face him.

He raises a hand, expression curious.

"I'd never make fun of 'cha, doll"

"I want you to cum inside me"

The room grows quiet for a minute, an by each second of silence that stretches so is the red across your face. Joel blinks slowly. Once and twice. By the third time, the crease between his brows has become prominent.

"What?"

Your face grows hot as you try to run away, but he stops you.

"Woah, hey. Where ya' goin'?"

"I told you you'd laugh" you pout your lips, flustered.

"I ain't even let out a goddam laugh" he defends himself. "'M just tryna process in here"

You huff. "What's so hard to understand?"

Joel looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Y' really gon' ask me that?"

"Maybe I want to try different things" you play with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

He obligues you to look by taking you by your chin, gently. A small warm smile adorns his face.

"Different's good"

You reciprocate his smile. Maybe it's that or the fact he can still see his cum glistening your lips, or the thrill of his seed seeping out of your tight walls. Either way, Joel surrenders.

"Ya' know I'll give 'cha anythin' you want" he says, voice low. "Just say da' word"

You gulp. "Yes"

Joel lets out a low, animalistic growl at your breathy acceptance. It was all the permission he needed. He crashes his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire as he grabs you by your hair, right at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and tighter. His other hand roams your body greedily, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth, warm skin beneath.

"We gotta take 'tis out"

He shoves the fabric up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside.

"It's my shirt"

"It's a nuissance"

He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of your naked torso, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipating breath.

"Told ya'" he murmurs, voice rough with desire. "'S fuckin' perfect to be hidin' all that"

Joel leans down, capturing one rosy peak in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling and teasing until it pebbles under his touch. You let out a breathy choked moan, loving the wet of his tongue against your warm skin. Then, his hot breath ghosts over as he utters a simple word that has your core clenching at nothing.

"Mine"

His hand slide down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. Joel can feel the heat of you, the damp patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties. He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding lower, brushing against your clothed sex.

"Can tell she missed me. That ya' weren't lyin', baby. She's fucken wet" he rasps, his voice muffled against your skin.

Joel's fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingertips. He groans, his cock hard again, throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans.

"Fuck, sugar" he mutte4red, his voice rough and low. "S' ready for me already"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell under his touch.

"Ain't she know me s' goddam well..."

Then, he dips a finger inside your tight, clutching heat, groaning at the way your walls flutter around the intrusion.

"God, you feel s' good" Joel says, voice strained. "S' fucking tight and perfect. I can't wait to feel ya' wrapped 'round my cock, doll. Can't wait any damn longer fo' y'r sweet lil' cunt"

He pumps his finger in and out, thumb still circling your clit. He can feel you getting closer, your hips starting to buck against his hand.

"That's it, baby" he encourages, his voice a low, filthy rumble. "Fuck yourself on ma' fingers. Show me how much ya' want it"

He adds a second finger, then a third, making you yelp as he stretches you open.

"Relax, doll. We've done 'tis before. 'M just preparing her to take ma' dick. You gon' be a good girl and stop fucken squirmin'?"

You nod, pliant, your body starting to tense.

"'Tis ya' reward. Come on ma' fingers like a good girl, and then I'll give 'cha what ya' really want. I'm gon' fill 'tis greedy cunt with my cum an' pump 'cha s' full of it 'til 's drippin' outta ya'"

Joel curls his fingers inside you, rubbing that all too well spot that brings you to tears. He feels you clench down hard, crying out as you come undone. Your orgasm crashes over, body convulsing as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out, he's bringing them to his lips, sucking off your essence from the digits, groaning at the taste of you.

"'S sweet as always"

After that, Joel is quick to shed what's left of his clothing, nearly tearing the old flannel in his haste. He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, his tummy pressing lightly over your abdomen, his weight sinking you down on the mattress.

He then looks down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, glistening parted kiss-swollen lips, and heaving chest.

"I love ya', sweet girl" Joel blurts out, eyes are dark and intense.

He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

"Say y'are mine" voice a low, demanding growl. "Say ya' belong to me, y/n, baby. Say it"

He pushes forward slightly, just the tip of him slipping inside your tight heat. He groans at the feel of you, at how your walls stretch to accommodate him. You let out a small whimper, yet still unable to form coherent sentences.

"I want to hear you say it, angel" Joel presses nonetheless, his voice strained.

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing a little more of his thick length inside you with each thrust. He can feel you getting wetter, core glistening as if your body yielded to his.

"Please, y/n" he begs, voice rough and desperate. "Please, baby... say it. That 'am your first an' last. The only man who ever fucks 'tis sweet cunt"

"I'm yours, Joel" you choke out. "Only yours"

With a final, hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the feel of you, letting out a long low groan.

"Fuck, doll" he gasps, hips starting to move, pistoning in and out of you. "She's just made f'me, ain't she? Gon' make ya' feel good. Give ya' what y'asked for. Lemme take care of it. I like to take care of's mine"

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under you, headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.

"Take it, sugar. Just like ya' wanted. 'Tis dirty mouth n' greedy pussy" Joel growls. "Take ma' cock like a good little girl. Fuck, y' were made f'r 'tis. Made't be fucked hard and deep and full of my cum"

He feels the tight coil of heat in his gut winding tighter and tighter; knows he won't last long.

"Please, Joel" you mewl, desperately clinging to him.

Joel lets out a feral growl at your plea, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He can feel you clenching down around him, body trembling as another orgasm builds deep inside you.

"Ya' want my cum, baby?" he snarls. "Want me t' fill her 'til it's drippin' down y'r legs?"

You nod, too eager.

"Look at that" he chuckles, pounding harder into you, forgetting for a moment he's sixty one. "Such a slut, beggin' for me to flood 'tis sweet pussy with ma' load. 'M gon' give ya' s' much you'll be leakin' for days. Gon' fill her up nicely. I know you gon' make sure not'a single drop goes to waste"

Joel reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Come with me, doll" he demands, growling. "Come on my cock like a good girl n' milk every last drop 'f cum. Show me just how much ya' want it"

With a final, brutal thrust, Joel buries himself balls deep inside you. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as his orgasm rips through him.

"Take it, baby. Let me make ya' mine" His cock jerks and pulses inside you, spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum painting your insides. "Atta girl"

He collapses against you, hips still rocking slightly as the aftershocks of his release roll through him. He can feel you coming around him, pussy clenching and milking his spent cock, trying to pull every last drop of his seed deep inside you, just like you asked for.

Joel's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, heart pounding against yours as he cradles you close.

"Not so bad for an old man"

He snickers, rolling onto his side, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his chest, head pillowed on his arm.

"Brat"

He wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzles into your hair, traces of lavender up his nose.

"But you love me"

Joel sighs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then temple and finally shell of your ear. In that moment, he knows he'll never let you go.

"That I do"

You softly comb his hair, his eyelids fluttering.

"I love you too, Joel"

A beat of silence goes by.

"So..."

"So?"

Joel offers a tired smile, glint of mischief laced somewhere.

"Any other ideas ya' wanna say outloud?"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @iamasaddie

[kodigriffinofficial20]

As a writer, I have never used chatgtp for writing. When it came out, I literally didn’t know what it was, so I messed around with it and asked it tons of questions like most people did. And I would ask it to give me names for stupid things like characters, songs (that I never wrote), or movies that don’t exist. But never to write my stories. I was never tempted, it never came to my mind. It was just a thing to mess around with, a toy. Then, after a few days of having fun, I threw it away and never touched it again. Like I was a toddler that had just been given a toy, and after playing with it for a few days, slobbering on it and chewing on it with my barely-there teeth, I toss it aside for the arguably-more-fun cardboard box.

Then, I started hearing about writers feeling on chatgtp and it’s implications. I felt simultaneously guilty I even touched it and proud I never used it to write. I will never understand the obsession people have with wanting generative Ai to write for you. Using it to generate your entire books and stories. It baffles me.

Now, here’s where my opinion differs. This is gonna be very unpopular and a lot of people will probably hate me for saying this. I think Ai, should be fine to be used, in some cases.

For instance, Ai grammar checkers like Grammarly, which I use, should be ok and not be shamed, but they are.

Or, if there’s a name you need for your world, or something like that. I think Ai is fine to use for that. It’s the same as using a name generator imo. Just say generate me a name for my fantasy world. Or a name for a place, or a creature. Just something you can’t think of yourself.

Sometimes, in writing, there are things that people despise, like naming people, or backstories, or making up creatures, that end up preventing people from moving on in their projects. I feel like if you can just type “give me a name for my cyber punk, side character girl.” And after two seconds you can move on, why not?

Or, another scenario: two archeologists being chased in a jungle. What are they being chased by? I don’t know, let me sit here for twenty minutes thinking and googling about it, losing momentum and deciding to quit writing for the day and come back tomorrow. I now have writers block for two weeks. Or, “give me a possibly supernatural creature to chase my two archeologists in the Mayan jungle for my story.” And continue writing for the rest of the day.

I don’t understand why Ai helping in any way is bad. I do understand some of the horrible things that the Ai companies are doing. I know some of the bad data mining things they do, and the bad stuff Ai perpetuates. However, the shortcuts that I gave, are useful. And if we can find an Ai that isn’t as bad as the others, then we should share that Ai as the one to use for those reasons.

Now, the internet won’t actually read this part they will only hate me and just spew hatred, I don’t actually use Ai. I am a bit of a hypocrite here, because I am not using the examples given. Except for Grammarly, I use that. I have used Ai to give me character names a couple of times but that was a long time ago. I was just giving my opinion that using the Ai in those ways should be acceptable.

Having it write for you is too much. Let the Ai work with you, not instead of you.

"I know chatgpt is bad but you just don't really have any choice" you literally do. Don't use it. Have some moral backbone.

[liminalmemories21]

This prompt list is great! I can see so many of them going in different directions. How about #90, “Why didn't you tell me?”

@cecilyv and I are working our way slowly down the list. All these prompts were great. Thank you to everyone!

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He finds out Eddie's moving back to LA, and that Evan is homeless, and that holy shit had he not needed to be jealous of Eddie, all within two minutes of gathering up the nerve to knock on Evan’s door. It's a lot to take in.

Tommy takes a deep breath, knocks on Evan’s door. Waits what feels like an interminable amount of time before the door creaks open and Chris' face appears in the crack. His suspicious look transforms into one of his giant grins, “Tommy!” The smile that creeps across his own face matches Chris’. 

He really had missed the kid but definitely hadn’t been expecting him.  “Uh.  Hi.”

Chris leans on the door jamb.  “Are you looking for Buck?”

He scratches his neck.  “Yes?”  Didn’t actually mean that to come out as a question, but –

Chris helps him out.  “Dad got his job at the 118 back.”  Adds unnecessarily.  “We moved back.”

He peers past Chris into the house, and it’s Eddie’s furniture, Eddie’s layout again.  “Right.  Makes sense.”  Except he knows Evan had given up the lease on this loft, so where– “Do you know where Evan is living now?”

Chris shakes his head.  “Not sure.”  Glances back into the house, and then leans in to say more quietly, like he doesn’t want Eddie to hear what he’s about to say, and Tommy has no idea what that means.  “He hasn’t been around much since we moved back.  I think maybe he and Dad had a fight?”  He looks at Tommy like he expects Tommy to know more, but he doesn’t.

He’s had the occasional text from Evan since the helicopter ride, since the funeral.  Had the feeling Evan was checking in on him, checking up on him, making sure he was okay.  Hadn’t really known how to respond, which was kind of why he was here now.  Figured that he might do better in person, or at least it would be harder to leave Evan on read if he was here, in front of him.

He shakes his head, and Chris looks disappointed in him, which thanks, he already kind of felt like a heel.  Has to shift his gaze upwards when Eddie appears behind Chris.

“Hey.  Chris was just telling me you moved back.”  Eddie makes a noise that approximates agreement.  “And you moved back in.”  It’s a statement, but also a question.

Eddie shrugs.  “Buck was just subletting.  House was set up for me and Chris.  Made sense.”

Right, except for the part where Evan gave up his loft to move here.  “Sure,” he says blandly.  “Any idea where Evan is now?”

Eddie shakes his head.  “I wasn’t invited to the housewarming.”

Ooookay then.  He’s not touching that one.  Backtracks to his truck.  Considers his options.  He could just call Evan.  That would be the sane and mature thing to do.  He calls Howie instead.

“So, Eddie’s back.”

There’s the sound of a fussy baby in the background, and Howie sounds frazzled.  “Yeah.  Couple weeks now.”

“Any idea where I can find Evan?  Since apparently Eddie kicked him out when he moved back?”

That brings Howie up short, and he’d apologize, except for how he kind of doesn’t want to.  There’s a pause.  “I’m not actually sure,” is what he finally says, and Tommy wants to grind his teeth.  “Hang on, Maddie will know.”

Maddie does not in fact know.  He’s going to give her – and maybe Howie by extension – a pass if only because they have a newborn at home.  

Calls Hen and gets the same pause, and then admission that she doesn’t know.  His dentist is going to have words with him the next time he goes in for a cleaning, but he can’t unclench his jaw. .

Doesn’t actually have Ravi’s number, which means he has to put on his big boy pants and actually call Evan.  Who picks up on the first ring.  “Tommy?”

He’d told Evan, ‘you call, I’ll always pick up;’ hadn’t been sure it would work the other way around.  Had never tested the theory until now.  And he’s been silent too long because Evan sounds a little worried when he says, “Tommy?” again.  “You okay?”

He should say something normal.  Instead he says, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a pause, and then a cautious.  “Tell you what?”

“That you’re homeless.”

There’s another pause.  “I’m not?  Homeless?  Or well, I guess technically I am kind of.  But, I’m not like living out of my car.”  Gives a half laugh.  “I think I’m too old to do that again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks again.

There’s a silence long enough that he doesn’t think Evan is going to answer.  Then, “Everyone’s got their own shit going on. They didn’t need my drama too.”  Tommy opens his mouth, to interrupt, to tell him that he does, but Evan plows on, doing that half laugh that’s definitely false. “You didn’t either. You-- You’re not signed up for that anymore.” He huffs, Tommy can picture him waving his hand to dismiss the idea that it’s important. “ It’s not even interesting drama.  Nobody wants to hear about apartment hunting in LA.”

“I do,” he says promptly.

“Oh,” Evan says softly, like Tommy’s surprised him.  “Uh, really?”

“Really,” he says firmly.  Bites down on saying, ‘I always want to talk to you, I miss listening to you talk about whatever you’ve been reading.  I miss you.’

“Oh,” Evan says again, and still sounds surprised.  “Umm.  I was actually going to look at an apartment this afternoon – I think my realtor hates me, I keep not liking anything she shows me.”  There’s a pause and Tommy’s not sure what’s coming next.  Waits.  Tries not to feel too eager.  “Would you, uh, want to come with me?”

He says yes before Evan can hedge the question, or take it back, or say something that will make Tommy feel slightly homicidal towards Evan’s friends and family.

“That eager to see my apartment drama first hand?” Evan says, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice now.

“Yes,” he says dryly.  “I cannot wait to witness the battle between millennial gray and boomer beige.”  He’s not even really joking, but it feels like a win when Evan laughs.

[azzifuddfanpage]

Azzi’s shower breaks so paige tries to take a look at it and fix it but tells her she should probably just call a plumber and she can use hers until it’s fixed. What paige didn’t anticipate was running into azzi, fresh out of the shower with wet hair and a towel, and she is seemingly very okay with it…

broken pipes

note: lowkey thinking about coming out of retirement so keep the requests coming. Sorry it’s been so long 😭 also sorry this is kinda horrible I was so distracted while writing this

word count: 1.5k

————

“Paige? I need help.” Azzi shouts from a few rooms away. 

Paige barely hears her over the sound of the guns blazing in the background of her video game. After the second time Azzi’s voice called out, she very reluctantly pulled off her headset watching her character get gunned down unattended. 

Paige sighed and turned her head towards the younger girls voice. 

As much as she hated to admit it, no matter what she was doing she would always drop everything for Azzi. I mean what that’s what being best friends is for… right?

In all honesty, paige, though she would deny it to anyone who even mentioned it, was 100 percent in love with Azzi. There was no doubt about it, anyone who had eyes could tell, their teammates, their families, even coach had begun to pick up on it, the way paige looked at Azzi like she was the sun in every room. 

“Ya? Watchu need Az” paige said from her rather comfy spot on the couch. 

“The water stopped coming out in the shower!” Azzi shouted back, her voice muffled by the door. 

Paige huffed and stood up from the couch and made her way over to the door. 

“I mean I can try and look at it, but you might wanna call a plumber.” Paige said through the bathroom door. 

“Ugh I didn’t get to finish washing my hair.” Azzi whines. Paige can’t help the soft smile that forms on her cheeks as she could hear the pout in Azzi’s voice. 

“I’m sorry Az you wanna finish in mine?” 

She could hear Azzi thinking through the door, she could almost see the way she cocked her head, and the way her forehead scrunched as she came up with a plan. 

“I guess so, but can u call the plumber for me?” 

���Pleasseee” Azzi begged.

Paige let out a breathy laugh, she knew that Azzi would do anything to be antisocial, so when given the opportunity paige made calls for her, even ordered for her at restaurants, she new Azzi was more than capable, but part of her liked getting to treat her like the princess she was. 

“Alright princess fine.” Paige mocked, a grin forming on her face as she stepped back a bit so Azzi could leave.

When the door to the bathroom swung open, steam escaped and the smell of lavender body wash swarmed paige’s senses. 

Her eyes found Azzi immediately, her jaw clenched as she noticed the clothing, or lack thereof, that Azzi was in. A towel, a small white towel that contrasted with the warm milky chocolate of her skin. 

Her breath hitched as she watched a drop of water slide down her chest and slide beneath the towel. 

Before she realized what she was doing Azzi let out a slight cough. Paiges eyes immediately froze as she brought her attention back to the present. 

“Like what u see paige?” Azzi asked with a smirk as she stepped closer to her. Paige felt her chest tighten and could feel the blush heating her cheeks. 

“Huh- i- uh- “ paige stuttered searching Azzi’s face for something to say. 

“Erm what did you say about the uhm shower? It’s broken?” Paige stumbled over her words but finally managed to recover that small sense of self awareness as her eyes stayed glued on a flaking piece of paint on the wall. 

For paige’s sake, thankfully Azzi didn’t continue to tease her about her obvious lack of conspicuousness when it came to ogling over Azzi’s minimally clothed body. 

Paige could feel a soft warm hand brush her shoulder gently. “Ya wanna just see if u can fix it? I know ur good at stuff like that.” Paige's whole body tensed as her eyes finally looked up. Azzi was already walking away and in the direction of paige's bathroom.

 Paige just stood there unable to move watching as Azzi walked away. She shook her head trying to snap herself back into reality once she realized she was literally staring at a closed door. 

————

Azzi, though she would deny it to everyone who even looked at her funny after they saw her and paige’s “strange” friendship, was in love with paige, and had been since she was 16. The minute she saw her on team USA. 

At first Azzi tried to stuff down her feelings, she had watched paige with other girls before, supported from the sideline as she flirted, she had always thought her feelings were one sided, but for the past couple months things had begun to change. 

Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, maybe she had finally just opened her eyes a little more, but she started to see things in the way Paige looked at her. 

When Azzi was across Ted’s, leaning up against the bar talking to a guy or girl, she could suddenly feel paige’s eyes boring holes into the back of her neck, she started to notice the way anytime someone got a too close to her, laughed a little to loud, brushed their arm up against her in a way that was anything more than friendly, Azzi found paige appearing at her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

Eventually Azzi stopped going up to the bar at all, they blamed it on the drinks- the way that they would sit- thighs pressed together, hands brushing each other. It was a sort of unspoken connection between the two. But Azzi new it was just the start of something, paige was just to scared to see it.

 Azzi smirked to herself as she turned on paige’s shower. If paige wasn’t going to be the one to cross the unspoken line first, well then I guess Azzi would. 

————

After a couple of failed attempts Paige finally managed to get the shower to work again. 

Paige smiled confidently to herself as she shut the cabinet. 

She briskly walked back to her own bathroom to tell Azzi the good news- a sense of pride radiating off of her at her accomplishment. 

“Hey Azzi, I fixed it, u wouldn’t believe it I literally just had to tighten the pipe!” Paige said a smile beaming on her face. 

Azzi smiled from the other side of the door, she could hear how proud paige was- and as a good best friend she wasn’t about to ruin her high. So she did what any good friend would do…

“Oh that’s awesome paige! I knew u were the one to ask- hey do u uhm- think u could help me with something else.” Azzi asked, her voice sounding a little smaller as she finished her sentence.

“Course what’s up?” Paige said immediately. 

Azzi was silent for a minute before she said, “Can u come in here.” 

Paige opened the door a bit confused.

Her eyes found Azzi’s immediately, Azzi didn’t say anything, she just walked over and reached to lock the bathroom door. 

“I need help paige.” Azzi said with a smirk. 

“U think u can help me. Did so good already.” Azzi said her lips brushing paige’s neck as she whispered into her ear. 

Paige felt goosebumps spread along her neck from where Azzi’s breathe had lingered. 

Azzi leaned back trying to silently judge paige’s reaction from the way her face looked. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open a little, and when she opened them, there was nothing but pure love in them as she leaned in and connected their lips. 

It was a kiss of passion, and years of lost time, paige walked her backwards until her back was up against the wall of the shower, their lips meshing together methodically. Azzi sighed into paige’s mouth as she felt her tongue slide against her own. 

When they finally pulled apart, a little breathless, Paige just shook her head in amusement.

“Took you long enough.” Paige said. 

Azzi smacked her teasingly, “at least I finally did something.” Azzi said. 

Paige cocked her eyebrow. “So what was it u needed help with.” Paige said with a smirk, letting her eyes scan down Azzi’s body that was covered only by a small towel. 

Azzi matched her energy leaning back in, pulling her in by her shirt so she could feel paige’s breath on her lips. 

Without saying anything Azzi kept her eyes on paige’s lips and let her towel drop to her ankles. Paige’s eyes stayed on Azzi’s. 

“U sure pretty” paige whispered her hand falling lower on Azzi’s waist. 

Azzi said nothing, just let herself begin to strip off paige’s clothes, telling her to lift her arms so she could rip off her t shirt and sports bra, so they were both completely bare. 

“How bout you show me how well this shower works huh?” Azzi whispers against paige’s lips. 

“Say less.” Paige says connecting their lips again and turning the shower on before finally making up for all the lost years. 

[rafeslvbug]

heyyy!!! i have been loving your nfl!rafe fics so muchhh!!! idk if you're taling requests or not but you said this in the sfw alphabet:

now he says it daily. he won’t go a day without saying it, not even if he’s in a bad mood. he needs to hear it back too, it hurts if he doesn’t.

and i was thinking what if they got into a fight or something and reader is upset and he's saying i love you but she doesn't and he gets upset too?? 🩷

the sheets were cold, your back turned to rafe as he laid facing the ceiling, incredibly restless. you could feel him shifting every few seconds, not being able to find comfort in the bed he usually melted in. lingering tension from your previous argument was still heavy in the air, and must’ve been what made sleep so uncomfortable for the both of you.

it didn’t stop you from trying, though.

sleep sounded like the perfect escape from this. you knew you shouldn’t have been trying to escape the argument, but your daughter had just taken an hour to fall asleep, and to say today had drained you was an understatement. you felt completely lifeless, except for the pounding in your head.

the argument was something you perhaps could have anticipated. rafe wanting you to attend his game this weekend. not a local one, just a big one. he only asked for you to come, suggested you leave the kids with a babysitter or a friend and you guys could make it a date. you hadn’t been to one yet this whole season, mainly because your daughter was only a few months old. it was a separation anxiety that would fade with time - but now was not the time. naturally, this compelled you to say no, to say you’d go to another one and rafe didn’t take it too lightly. he didn’t yell - he rarely does. his words were instead infused with a type of hurt you also rarely saw, and was somehow worse. while you knew he had every right to be angry, what he said you couldn’t justify. claims you didn’t love him as much, or that you didn’t care, that you were changing. it was bullshit, and untrue, when everything you did was for him.

in the silence of your thoughts, and his, you hear his quiet mutter of, “i love you sweetheart.”

you don’t return it.

rafe’s brows furrow, his head shifting to the side to stare at the back of yours. he blinks, rubbing his ear, thinking perhaps he heard wrong. because he heard nothing at all.

it’s silent in the room, the kids are asleep, you haven’t said anything. there’s no way you couldn’t have heard him, he made sure you would. he was never tentative to tell you he loved you. so why hadn’t you said it back?

he props himself up onto his forearm, switching on the lamp beside the bed.

“owh rafe, why’d you turn the light on?” you whine, shielding your eyes from the brightness.

“why’d you ignore me?” he responds, the faintest of pouts on his face while he looks down at you, still recovering from the harsh light exposure.

“ignore you?”

“yes. i said i love you an-“

“oh my god rafe,” you groan, burying your face into your pillow at his words ; you’re both deflated after arguing and too tired in general to deal with this, hoping the pillow might consume you whole as you so desperately want it to.

rafe’s frown deepens, sitting up fully in bed and crossing his arms over his chest. “sit up, i’m talkin’ here.”

you sigh, exhaling out your nose, rubbing your eyes and rolling over to look at him properly. the stubborn look on your face is enough to piss rafe off, even when he’s trying to be as patient as he can manage, it’s still slipping away from him.

“we don’t do this. we don’t ignore each other or not say ‘i love you’ back. that’s not us, never has been, never will be. d’you hear me?” he says, voice stern and allowing no room for argument.

“yeah i know,” you mutter.

silence beats between the two of you, a few fading heartbeats.

once.

twice.

then, “we ever gonna talk about it again?” his voice is low, referring to the initial argument, clearly not having given up on it.

“we will.”

“when?”

“now…?”

“now.” he sighs, like he’s about to go into a game where the odds are against him. “just come. there are a million people we trust to leave the kids with.”

you’re biting your lip, unsure and thinking of the similarly million ways it could all go wrong, forever apprehensive to leave your kids alone. “okay but-“

“no buts. it’s gonna be fine, it’s always been fine. it’ll be one day, out of hundreds. you can do that, baby.”

you’re mulling it over in your mind, thinking of how he said you didn’t care about him anymore.

as if on cue, reading you like an open book, rafe interjects your thoughts with a soft, “i know what i said, an’ i’m sorry. none of that shit’s true, i know that. i just want you to be there.”

“yeah?” you turn your head to look at him a little better, while he brushes back some hair that falls into your eyes.

“yeah.” he murmurs, tilting his head down at you.

he’s looking down at you with the same blue eyes that can do no wrong, even in the worst days of your marriage. the look is so desperate, a silent plea in them to just say yes, one you’ve always been ridiculously weak for.

“mkay, i’m sorry too an’ i’ll come,” you finally agree, leading rafe’s face to break into a grin as he leans down to you.

“you’re sure?” he hovers over you, forearms on either side of your head.

“yeah i’m sure,” you mutter, laughing when he presses his lips to yours, quickly switching to messy pecks across your whole face.

“rafe! cut it out!” you squeal, trying to keep your voice to a minimum so as not to wake up the kids next door.

he only hums, however, stopping for a brief second. “i love you,” he repeats, this time dangling the words like a warning in which a satisfactory answer might prevent his onslaught of kisses.

“i love you too,” you exhale, blowing your mess of hair out of your way.

“there we go, sweetcheeks,” he grins, causing you to laugh against his chest while his arms hold you impossibly closer.

[revcleo]

Class traitors of the working class are there to undermine the working class.

Class traitors of the capitalist class are there to undermine the capitalist class.

Marx wouldn't have survived without Engels, a classless society is one where people who are currently comfortable will not have to see poor people begging on the streets. Creating a better world for everyone means a better world for everyone, rich people are made to feel as though owning massive amounts of money is the only thing which means they and their children can have a better life. This is the whole thing behind the "working class landlord" situation.

When all people are given protection in their old age, this includes people who thought they would have to exploit the labour of others.

People frequently don't think of systemic solutions, but instead put it on individuals. Even if the grand dickhead Musk suddenly gave all his money to the USA, that would be half of Medicare's budget for the year. There can be so much more money if there's something like, a 100% wealth tax above 1 million (stocks and shares and liquid capital). I've not done the sums on that but like, it would hit way more people. Most people can agree that 1 million USD is enough money for one person?

Then so long as the funding doesn't all disappear into the military blackhole, which in 2025 was about 4 times as much money as musk has (if he liquidated his assets according to google). It'd make a bunch of public housing, lowering overall house prices.

In regards to house prices, people do want them to go up because it provides people with additional finance in the future, but housing shouldn't be an investment it should be a place where people live. What we need to do then is make sure that people don't lose out on mortgages with the bank, so there should be protection on wealth for individuals up to an amount like here in the UK, which is about 80k I believe? And I think maybe it would be a good idea to consult with economists (they're not all bad) on what laws could be passed to ensure that people don't suffer from house prices going down re: mortgages and negative equity.

Either way it's definitely possible to join with capitalist class traitors to ensure that everyone has a better future. Just sometimes people need to do more systems thinking. Otherwise it's just the same as shouting at someone not recycling a plastic bottle properly and saying they're killing the environment when they're just another symptom of the system which incentivises throwing things away.

Gosh.

Must be rough for them.

[brittle-doughie]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As you were laid in your cozy seat, the two Cookie loomed over you by the sides, working together to keep you and your hands pinned down. Their hands holding yours tightly as they looked down at you, warm and loving intent dripping with sinister vibes.

Despite it all, you were not feeling happy.

You were afraid. Afraid of them.

You plead for them to let you go, you promise you’ll love them too. They don’t have to do this…

“It’s okay, Y/N Cookie. I am here with you! There is still something holding you back and when it’s done, it can finally be just you and me! This is what you want, no?”

“Not like this!”

“Ssssh. Please don’t be upset, my heavenly. I do believe that you love us both, but for your heart to be set free, I need to find the root of your pain and get rid of it.”

Eternal Sugar raises her other hand, her soul jam shining brightly in the sunlight, and drives away into your chest. You felt fuzzy and numb, sluggish in your reactions as you feel her hand tugging at something.

Chains. Spiritual chains that wrapped around your heart as Sugar grabbed and pulled at them. You shake your head and ask her to stop, you promised again that you’ll love her and Hollyberry to the fullest extent.

“And I believe you, my heavenly. But that long ago love of yours is still having a hold on your heart! Look at these chains preventing it from flying free, they put these on you to make sure you cannot love another, did they?”

That wasn’t true. You still loved your lost partner, even after all these years! You didn’t want to let them go just yet, not like this!

“Decades, centuries, millennia. Yet it took only a few years for that Cookie to engrain themself into your heart. They cannot love you anymore, Y/N Cookie. Not like we could. We can be happy here, just you and me…”

“And with me, Y/N Cookie. I have always placed your happiness and safety first. Now I want to heal you from the inside, won’t you give me that chance?”

“They would’ve wanted you to move on…”

For a moment, those chains faltered. Hiding her widening smile, Eternal Sugar pulled at the chains as they loosened. You wanted to look, but Hollyberry kept you focused on her.

“You remember our times together, right? The drinks we had with each other? You’re one of the few that could keep up with me, haha! When you tried to protect me from the Red Dragon? I have never forgotten that day.”

“Heh, yeah. I did try that, didn’t I? Even if it didn’t work…”

“But what mattered was that your love was what made you do it, no matter the odds. Everything stacked against you, yet it was for the good of your fellow Cookies and…your care for me that drove you to do it. It meant a lot to me and I want to mean a lot to you too…”

“That really happened?! My heavenly, you’re so brave!”

“I had to try. For her…”

The chains loosened enough for Eternal Sugar to make one final pull for them to SNAP as they dispersed into nothing.

You heard…screaming? Just for a moment though as Hollyberry joins Eternal Sugar in gently cupping your heart.

“It’s…beautiful, my heavenly.”

“Is it meant to be this warm?”

“It’s full of untapped love, ready to be given to the Cookie my heavenly adores the most. Which will be me and you…”

“Y/N Cookie, how do you feel?”

Your fear was gone. Instead, you….smiled with tears.

“I feel…happy.”

Seeing you like that, Hollyberry couldn’t hold back either as she laughed with you. Scooping you up in a tight hug as she spun around with you.

“Hollyberry Cookie, don’t forget to let me have a moment too!”

Hollyberry sets you down as Eternal Sugar held you tightly, her wings fluttering as she savored this moment. Your heart was beating madly like a symphony that brought joy to her (nonexistent) ears.

“I love you, my heavenly. Always.”

“As do I, Y/N Cookie. Let us make memories here forevermore…”

You looked at the two of them, being able to smile lovingly for the first time in…forever actually! You forgot how good it felt!

“I love you both too….”

…

…

…

Yet, somewhere out there, a soul is left in turmoil…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Comfort for the Soul Part 2

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts*!Reader

Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed the previous chapter! Thank you all for the support and love - I love writing this sweet man and I may be writing more for him in the future!

I don't know much about Bipolar disorder, but I tried my best to look more into it to make Bob seem more realistic. It's easy to make Bob and his other 'personalities' similar to DID, but it is not at all the same.

Summary: When you realise your supply of blood bags have run dry, Bob is more than willing to become your temporary blood bag.

Tags: blood, swearing, blood drinking, reader is part vampire (think Blade - day walker and backstory explained a bit more), Bob is very touch starved and very smitten, fluff, pet names, Bob feels some self-doubt, mentions of the Void, making out, getting caught, Bob and reader being possessive, some 18+ moments (Bob gets a boner a few times)

Wordcount: 4,6k

E/C = eye colour

L/N = Last name

Lo and behold, Valentina was not true to her word; those three days suddenly went to five.

Your frustrations were greatly felt throughout the tower, much to the dismay of your team-mates, awkwardly giving support to their best of their knowledge.

It wasn't their fault they didn't know much about day walkers; they had been a rarity, but even you found their curious questions became something far too comical.

"Can't she just eat a squirrel?" John had finally asked at dinner, the group of you giving him varying looks of disbelief. "There's plenty in the park."

"She's part vampire, Walker, not a dog," Ava argued.

"It's fine, guys, I'll live." You chewed on the steak Alexei had offered to cook for you. A plain, on the verge of being a medium rare steak, nothing else to go with it.

Despite his help, he almost forgot about it a second too long, so the juices weren't as plentily. As Walker described it, "you might as well still eat it whilst it's still mooing."

The group didn't discuss anything on it, putting out ideas of what the evening should be: games, movie, trivia night, but your mind was distracted by the kind, thoughtful gesture that Bob had offered to you.

He had been keen on offering himself up as your temporary meal for only three days, but whether he would want to continue this for a few more was something you needed to bring up with him.

It didn't help; you could still see the band-aids he wore underneath his sweater, and the flesh was still healing.

Your mouth watered, the way he sat so snug in his comfy clothes didn't help your situation, sweet, oblivious Bob, unaware of how you were feeling. It took a lot in you now that you had gotten a taste of him, not to just keep pouncing on him every five minutes.

The group had gotten into a debate on films, which ones to watch, and only those that bring your attention back to them.

"If we do watch Star Wars, which ones - prequels or originals -Bob, why don't you pick?" Yelena had brought the attention back to Bob, whose attention had been given to shyly looking over at you when he thought you weren't looking.

"Uh-sorry, what w-were we talking about?"

"Ugh, see? He was too busy giving love eyes to YN!" Walker gestures, but none of them go further into it. Rather, Bob is left with the comment swimming in his mind, his eyes trailing to you to see if you are just as embarrassed as he is.

You give a sympathetic smile, one that doesn't pity him, and you don't make him feel worse. He feels relieved you don't look at him any differently; rather, your attention has shifted.

The heavy debate seemed to bring the worst out of Walker and Ava, disagreeing that "the prequels were better" or "no, originals are the best, we have to start with that and the order they came out in"

You cut them off before you can stomach their growing voices, "Hey guys, I might sit this one out-"

"Oh, no, you're not, L/N!" Walker and almost half of your team shouted out, before Bucky sighed, muttering, "Fuck it, prequels it is," before going to set it up in the living room.

"Hey," a small voice called to you, a nudge to the shoulder as you looked briefly from your unfinished meal to see Bob had made his way over to sit next to you, "something up?"

"All good," you whispered back, but you knew you had to ask him soon enough, "are you free after this? Need to ask you something."

"Of course." He smiled broadly, the smile lines in his face made him look boyish and youthful. Despite taking a chunk out of him the previous night, he seemed to be soothed by being in your presence.

You can't say anything else to him before you're whisked over to help with popcorn duty with Yelena, and Bob is dragged by Alexei to the couch.

"Hey, saved you a seat," Bob motions gently to the space beside him on the long sofa. You realise that he's in the curve of the L in the couch, and despite the length of the couch, you find that the space between you is practically nothing.

You scooch through as you take a seat, finding yourself rather cosied up beside him. Shoulders and legs touching, you realise he's emitting way too much heat to be humanly possible. There's a nervous, bashful look to him, like he's scared you're too uncomfortable being so close to him.

"Is this okay?" He whispers close to your ear when everyone has settled, the lights go off, and the movie intro starts. You notice his hands are fidgeting again, and on reflex, you take them into yours.

The jitteriness stops immediately, feeling the way Bob tenses again as if he's never felt you touch him before, his blue eyes flash with the light coming from the TV, and he looks ethereal with the backdrop of New York behind.

"I'm good." You give his hand a squeeze, your little message to him that you're next to him, not going anywhere.

He seems to relax into the bundle of blankets over you, and by the time the movie ends, you feel sluggish, warm, your head resting against his good shoulder, eyes drifting in and out of sleep.

"The lovebirds are at it again." You hear a voice, maybe Walker, but it sounds too happy, too pleased to see this; the sight of Bob reciprocating your touch, his eyes shut as he breathes deeply in a sleep.

You're so caught up in Bob and sleep, ignoring the snickering, the giggles, maybe even the sound of a phone camera shutter. You just feel so part of his life, and the feeling, unbeknownst to you, is reciprocated.

The group go back to their rooms, leaving the lights dimly lit as you slowly come around after a quick snooze, with Bob groggily joining you.

His brown locks are poking at random angles, his hair tousled but there is a sleepy, dreamy look to him when his eyes land on you beside him, realisation dawning on you both.

"Oh, guess the movie is done." His voice surprises you with how deep it sounds, "Surprised s'all."

"How come?"

"Usually, they're s-so loud," he laughs more to himself softly, his eyes twinkling in the dim light, "can't believe I wasn't thrown a pillow to the f-face for potentially snoring."

"Well, you're in luck, I didn't hear snoring," he matches your smile, relieved to hear that. You shift, feeling something had snaked around you.

Looking down, you spot Bob has not quite noticed he's wrapped himself around you, a hand on your waist, almost possessively, keeping you glued to his side.

"S-Sorry!-" He realised a second later when he sees what you're looking at, pulling back, but you immediately miss him, the way he feels around you, his scent, his overall being.

It's okay- you want to tell him- I like you being close- but you stop yourself from embarrassing yourself and admitting to it. You rake your fingers together, collecting the right words.

"Bob, I-"

"You... haven't fed properly, all day," he begins, eyeing you carefully. He sees it in the way your eyes are more frantic, you're jittery, and there's a sheen that looks like sweat across your brow.

You look at him, your heart pounding almost out of time to its normal beat, as Bob pulls back his sweater carefully, revealing the other side of his untouched skin. You feel the heartbeat there, strong, slightly fast.

"You can always... have some more now?" He asks, the softness in his voice is as if he's luring you out like a siren in the waters. It entices you easily, and you wish to just climb on top of him and commence there, but you're still cautious.

"Not here," you warn, and you look away from him, trying to ignore the briskness and liveliness coming from his chest. "If we were to do this, it would have to be in a room- yours maybe-"

"How about yours?" He asks, and the question has you wondering why he chose yours and not his. "I-mean... only if you want...there's nothing against using my room-"

"My room it is then." You stand up abruptly, startling him, taking him by the hand as you both not-so-subtly scurry together down the hallway.

Bob doesn't think he's ever been more nervous in his life to be entering someone's bedroom, let alone it being yours.

He feels similar to some teenage boy sneaking off to a girl's room, an experience he never had but is all too giddy in finally getting to try it.

Bob doesn't know what he thinks he's going to experience when he comes into your room. Walker's 'vampiric' stereotypes run through his mind, and he's oddly curious but fully aware you won't have blood on the walls, upside-down crosses hanging everywhere.

Your hand has not left yours since you thumb the door quickly, efficiently, opening it without a second thought, as you allowed him to step in first, you following.

He's certainly not expecting your room to look so... normal?

No coffin to sleep in.

No dead animals hanging around.

Just a simple, normal bedroom, filled with a slightly above-average number of plants.

You have a bookshelf of books of different genres he's read, old vinyls and a player sitting by your window, a pair of cosy slippers sitting by the end of your bed.

Bob notices a sketchbook half-scattered on your desk and is amazed that you like to draw. There's a familiar scent of vanilla or coconut or something fancy that Bob can't place what it is, but it's warm and smells like you, and he slowly feels enveloped by it.

There are fairy lights strewn over the top of your bed, hanging like hundreds of fireflies, and Bob thinks, no doubt, that this room is undeniably yours.

"Make yourself comfy." You say behind him, as Bob clumsily makes his way to your bed, stunned, the sheets feel so soft compared to his; he sinks into the mattress rather than the one in his room that makes him feel like he's sitting on bedrock.

His mind drowns him with unwanted thoughts: thoughts of imagining the two of you curled up with one another, sharing a space that was intimate in itself for just letting both of you be one.

"Bob," he looks up as he realises he's caught dissociating, looking to see you hovering by the door, eyes flashing between E/C and those golden-white ones, "you're so pretty."

The compliment rattles through him: body, mind and soul. He's opening and closing his mouth erratically, noises anyone would not think could be humanly possible to make are are you both can hear. He's scrambling to think of something to say, thinking- his mind screaming with different thoughts of things to say back to you.

"You're pretty, too-gorgeous even! Um, like pretty in the face and body-oh, that sounds so creepy, n-not like I'm staring at your body, I swear!-"

A giggle echoed in the softness of your room, and his heart hammers as if ready to be reached to and ripped from him. How someone like you can listen to him, even want to be with him, makes his mind spiral.

"You think I'm pretty, Bob?" You're lightly teasing him, stepping closer to him, observing him like he's prey, and he's sweating profusely, wishing he were doused in holy water for his racing thoughts. "Gorgeous?" You continue until you stand in front of him.

He's looking anywhere by at you, so scared he's going to mess things up, ruin your friendship if he does something-says something, and to watch everything he's tried making with you burn away.

He wishes the mattress could sink him further and further down into a nothing space, but he's so sure you can feel everything. Soft fingers hold his chin to make him look up at you, and all you do is smile down at him, and Bob feels weak.

"Do I scare you, Bob?" He hears it, the soft gravel in your tone, the growl that grips your question. You're ravenous, and he's enjoying this way too much.

"N-No," his voice is a shudder, his fingers fidget in wanting to touch you again, and he finds that they move on their own, moving tentatively over your hips, his eyes not leaving yours. "I'm not scared of you."

Humming, you lean over him until your mouth grazes lightly over the shell of his ear. "May I," he thinks you're going to ask something else, "bite you?"

He's so happy to be a part of this, nodding his head so enthusiastically that you fear it will roll off, presenting his neck to you as his anticipation rises. He forgets to take his sweatshirt off, but it doesn't matter, you have enough room.

You don't waste time this time, and Bob gasps all the same as before when you bite into him. This time, now being in the confines of four walls, his noises are louder.

"O-Oh." He whimpers unapologetically, large warm hands grip suddenly at you with the strength that still stuns you, pulling you until you're practically hovering over his lap. Bob doesn't stop there, finally tugging you as you move with him, leg sweeping over and caging him in.

His Adam's apple bobs, fingers holding you by your thighs, your waist, trailing higher towards your ribs, all whilst trying to concentrate on his breathing, despite hearing the rush of blood leaving his head.

He shifts you in his arms, and a rookie mistake is made by him, for he accidentally shifts you a bit too far forward. Your core catches his crotch, rubbing unintentionally the more you move.

Bob whines in the back of his throat, tears well in his eyes. It feels so good, but he feels terrified, having himself wrapped around your little finger. He wishes he could stay here, in your arms, embracing you for as long as possible.

You growl in the back of your throat, not human, the sound reverberates through from Bob's neck down into his chest, hammering like a bell. He thinks you're going to lose control, and he's ready to bring you back.

"Fuck, baby, I've got you." The pet name slips out quicker than he realises, but it feels good from him, earning a low whine to come from you.

It's sudden, but you love it; the word goes straight to your core shamefully. "I've got you-I've got you." Bob feels the rush of endorphins from it, the way he feels so trusted by you in his arms.

Your thighs tighten around him, trying to stop yourself from gyrating on top of him despite how tempting it is. He doesn't seem opposed to it; your bodies move to help you get better access to his neck, creating a gyrating movement that anyone who came in would see would be obvious, indicating that the two of you were making out.

There is something sensual building, unfamiliar, but it seems so normal for both of you, blossoming into something undeclared, personal.

Your mouth withdraws from his skin, a harsh, ragged exhale leaves you as if you've been choking down on air. Leaning over him, your faces are far closer than usual.

Bob works on instinct and does the unthinkable, his fingers tracing over your cheekbone, tucking back a piece behind your ear.

"You're so pretty," you whisper, like the two of you are sharing heartfelt secrets between one another. Your bloodied lips trace over his ear once more, and Bob finds himself struggling to breathe. "Such a pretty boy."

Bob groans louder than he expected, squeezing your hips, his legs tense and untense, trying to move you off his crotch as quickly as possible. The words hit him as if he were awaiting the waves to crash down on him; the suspense kills him, but he's more terrified of making the wrong move. He doesn't want to scare you off.

"You-you have no idea what you do to me." His voice comes out hoarse, deeper than expected, his blue eyes flash momentarily to a warm golden hue, then back to their usual.

You know he's nervous about engaging in something so new, balancing that with the possible fear that there might also be a part of him that is trying to make him feel the lowest.

Bob shakily exhales, pushing his face into your torso, hugging you a little tighter when he feels himself overworking his mind. That you're using him just for some sort of gain, the other part is certain you wouldn't be allowing him to do any of this with you.

'She thinks you're weak.' The Void speaks through him as if he's conversing with it, but Bob doesn't want to think of it. He wants to be enveloped in you, your warmth, your sunshine, not the darkness.

"Bob," you try to draw him out, trying to get him to look up at you, and it takes some prying before his eyes dart up to look at you. He's afraid, afraid he's messed things up, worsened the relationship or friendship between the two of you. "I'm here. You did such a good job."

"I did?" There is a light that comes from him when he hears it come directly from you. He peeks his head out a bit more, uncertain yet tentative.

"Always." You murmur, and the two of you spend some minutes just in each other's arms, telling him how proud you are of him, how good he is to you. He is silent in your arms, letting out small, exhales when he hears compliments come from you.

"You're too good for me." He says after some time, and it hurts to see him doubt himself. "I'm a mess."

"Sometimes that's what makes us us," you hum, stroking back his brown hair. "I wouldn't change you for anything."

The Golden Guardian, he is to some, but to you, he's just Bob, the Bob who makes you feel most like yourself, someone who didn't run away from you the moment they saw you.

Not the monster your parents had cast out so many years ago, selling you off to the military. He's your sanctuary, you're everything he wishes to worship.

"Let me get you cleaned up." You hop off him slowly, rising as you walk to the ensuite. You linger for a bit before disappearing, holding his hand to steady him, to help him through his breathing before he's sure he's okay.

"Sure-not going anywhere." Bob exhales, crashing backwards onto the sheets, trying to hide the obvious 'problem' that had grown in his sweatpants.

It's another two nights that pass before you see Bob's confidence begin to build. It's small, subtle, but there in the way he walks, how he talks to you and others. It's blinding, and you feel strangely clingy when you're not near him.

It's game night this time around in the Avengers' tower, pizza boxes strewn across the couch, beers and wine flowing as conversation comes easily, laughter too.

Music softly plays of some club song you've never heard of, watching in amusement as a drunk Alexei tries dancing in time to it, spurred on as he's cheered by almost everyone watching.

Yelena watches on in cringe, muttering as she looks anywhere but onwards, suddenly feeling that the music needs to be changed as she hurries off. The others cheer on as Alexei laughs with a bellowing roar, the beer in hand nearly spilling as he moves.

"What fun!" He's loud, louder than normal, your ears ring at the noises around you, but you feel your eyes drifting over Bob too many times to Bob.

He's been quiet, silent in his laughter as he observes everything around him, as he sips slowly at his Sprite. You're awestruck by him, so absorbed in staring at him, not feeling the couch dip on your right. Yelena has snuck her way to sit beside you, startling you as she whispers to you.

"You're drooling."

You react quickly, wiping your mouth to find nothing as Yelena laughs, watching the way you try to avoid her eyes and the attention of anyone else. "When were you going to tell me you and Bob were seeing each other?"

The music doesn't seem loud enough, and you wish to drown in it. You feel like people are staring, even when they're not. You downplay the situation as you nervously laugh, "What are you talking about, Lena?"

"I mean, when I saw Bob leave your room two nights ago."

The glass of wine almost crushes in your hand from how you're gripping it, your heart thrums uncontrollably. You're quiet for a second too long, and Yelena is given all the proof she needs that something is going on.

"It's cute," She whispers, ignoring the way you're trying to cover your face. Bob glances back at the two of you curiously, trying not to eavesdrop. "The two of you- so cute together."

"W-we're not-it's not-"

"You don't have to say anything, L/N," she winks, her smile wicked, "I know."

She's quickly gone before you can explain things, proclaiming that it was time to take Alexei back to his room before he does anything further embarrassing. You watch as it takes a team effort of Walker, Ava and Yelena to drag the larger Russian man out, laughing to yourself as you hear the mumbled struggles, Alexei slurring his words.

You snuggle into the couch, enjoying the silence after some time, a comfortable, not awkward one fills the air as you look up, seeing Bob shyly looking your way already.

"You want to join me?" You beckon him over as he stands from the beanbag, shuffling quietly in a pair of almost matching slippers you had bought for him when he said he wished he had a pair.

You both sit in silence again, listening to the sounds grow quieter, a hum of the kitchen light, a honk from a car outside. It's peace that you love sharing with Bob.

You put down your glass of red, head swimming with a need for a distraction, eyes trailing over Bob as if you're undressing him with your eyes. "Ready?" You ask when you're certain everyone is occupied.

Bob nods, placing his cup down, shuffling closer to you until you straddle him with ease. He takes it naturally, a long exhale leaves his lips as you feel bolder in teasing him, tracing your fangs lightly over his skin, feeling previous bites have slowly begun healing with time.

"Please, Y/N," he whines, and you hush him sweetly, taking your time with him. "I know, sweetie, I'm here for you." Your voice drops a bit lower, and you revel in sensing his heartbeat pick up faster when you move over him.

He's so obedient, and it makes your mind wander to how he would be as a partner. Your thighs clench, and you lean into his shoulder, relieving him of the wait.

He grunts, not as loudly as before, as you drink slowly from him, sensually, hips rolling as you're taken up in a lull. Your mind short-circuits, you forget where you are, so emboldened by him and his words of encouragement, his hands guiding you.

You shock him, though, when you press kisses into his neck, trailing up his jaw as you leave bloody kiss marks the higher you go. Bob stares up at you, mesmerised, licking his lips unintentionally to see your bloody mouth.

You can't stop yourself now, and the words that come next from you take you to the final step.

"Want a taste?"

Bob swallows thickly, eyes trailing from your mouth to your eyes, glowing, then back down to your lips. He's hungry in a way you don't think someone like him would be, but he's so sweet in how he pleads. Morbid curiosity has taken over, but he's aware of how you mean to let him taste his blood.

"Please-yes please." You don't know who leans in first, but lips envelop yours, soft and warm. Bob tastes the iron on his lips, strong, and he thinks that you must've turned him at some point-because why is he so obsessed?

Your kiss starts slowly, testing the waters as you pull back inches from him to gauge his reactions, smiling when he chases your lips before diving in for more.

You're so caught up in it all, kissing him, feeling him move beneath you, the way he whispers your name. He kisses you a bit harder now, his tongue swipes curiously over your bottom lip as he tastes a bit more, kissing openly and a little bit more brazenly.

The elevator rises slowly, neither of you noticing, hands touching in places as Bob feels over you tentatively, whispering that pet name you love oh-so-much.

The doors to the elevator chime open. Bucky is tired from a full day of meetings, talking to congress, and wishing for a drink and bed, turning on the light as he's in his own world-

"Oh, what the fuck!"

You pull off, leaning back onto the couch and off Bob slightly, when you hear the voice behind you. Bob still holds you, trying to shield himself as you watch Bucky with equal parts shock and annoyance.

"It's not what you think-"

"No, I'm just going to pretend I didn't walk in on this." Bucky sounds like a disappointed dad as he averts his gaze from the two of you.

The shock brings hurried footsteps to approach, Walker is the first to round the corner to the scene. "Oh fuck-What the fuck, Y/N?"

Ava and Yelena are making small murmurs as they look over it as well. Ava is like Bucky, looking the other way, but Yelena is smiling- fucking smiling- as she gives the thumbs up your way.

"I get you want to get in each other's pants," Walker continues, "but I didn't think I was going to walk in on you eating Bob!"

To them, it made sense that it looked like they walked in on a crime scene: Bob is covered in blood. His mouth, neck and most of his face are smeared. His hair is tousled beyond saving, his sweater is pulled and covered in blood. You've done terribly in trying not to stain the couch, but blood has splattered onto the pillows and blanket.

You try to explain yourself, but there is a noise that has entered the room that feels primal, sudden.

The growl to emit in the room does not come from you, and surprisingly, everyone turns their head directly to who is beneath you.

"Get out." Bob's voice is low, commanding, and it brings everyone in the room to feel a sense of apprehension. This doesn't sound like him; his voice is his own, but it holds power, strength.

The grip around your waist is hiding his excitement from the others, but it is possessive as he repeats the same words, louder this time, somewhat more demanding. "Get. Out."

Everyone moves as if on autopilot. Yelena and Ava scoop a confused Walker out of the room. Bucky shakes his head as he walks the other way down to his room. There is nothing said again from them as they leave the two of you in complete silence.

"Holy shit," you utter when there is no noise, no giggles, no words of astonishment. Looking down towards Bob, he's so caught up in being with you that he hasn't even clocked what happened. "That-that was hot."

Bob blushes as he pulls you down to his level, kissing you deeply to either occupy your thoughts with him again or to shut you up. You greedily kiss back, knowing the next day, breakfast will bring many questions and awkward 'birds and bees' conversations, but you don't care, not when you're with your Bob.

[orphicsun]

78 and 79 with sevika PLEASE.

warnings: 18+ content, spanking, thigh-riding, brothel worker reader, names used (whore, good girl)

"Do you like when I spank you?"

Yeah, you absolutely did. Sevika didn't need to ask. You hardly knew the woman, and you were already letting her witness the sight of your hole clenching around nothing as she landed harsh spanks on your ass, reveling in the way the skin jiggles upon impact.

This is supposed to be your job—doing sexual favors for a living in the back of a busy brothel. It's meaningless when you're on your knees for any man or woman. Hell, it's meaningless for anyone.

It's sad to say, but you don't exactly drool over the the idea of any of your clients fucking you. You're used to the type of sex that uses your body, taking from you without any needed pleasure. People don't care about if you cum because you get paid. They treat you differently than their spouses. They even treat you differently than the girls they pick up in cheap bars.

But Sevika is something, an almost comedic exception to the rules of being a prostitute. She spends the first half of your time together, the first half she had paid for warming you up for it. She always knows exactly how to make you want her, too. The wet heat of her tongue slathered all over your pussy until your wet enough for three fingers was what you were given last week. This time, it's something you weren't expecting.

But when she had suggested it, you weren't dull at the thought of her palm on your ass. So here you are, taking it like you're made for her pain.

Another, and then she soothes you, her fingers spreading over the reddened skin. Isn't she sweet?

"C'mon, whore.."

That name. It should be offensive to someone whose job is sex work, but from her lips, it's stated as if it's a compliment. Like you're not just any whore, but the best. Her whore.

You're snapped out of your tainted thoughts when her palm meets your ass again, making you cry out.

"Stupid little whore I've got," she scolds you, scoffing when she looks down to see more arousal seep out of your neglected hole, dripping down your pussy and past your clit. Laid out on your stomach over her lap is the most comfortable position to receive this extreme treatment, but it's a heavenly torture; every time your pussy gets wetter, you have to feel the sensation right on your clit, the smallest bit of sensation you can get from her actions.

"I'm sorry.. please play with me, please." You beg to be touched, to be fucked right here across her lap.

Sevika has different plans for a whore as desperate as you, though.

She gently hauls you up, situating you on her right thigh. Your bare pussy aches and it takes everything in you not to just start riding her thigh. You want to move and use her, but you don't. She hasn't told you to yet. Afterall, she is the one who paid for this.

Two hands embrace your waist, squeezing you. She holds you affectionately despite the situation, pulling you closer. It only makes you wetter.

And then, she whispers in your ear, her voice a command simple enough for your dumb whore brain to follow.

"Use my thigh, baby."

You don't ask her to specify, don't hesitate. You simply let out a desperate little noise and begin rocking your hips back and forth, shivering when your clit drags against her skin, sending pleasure through you.

"I need you so bad, 'Vika. Needtocumplease," you moan out hastily, your hands finding purchase against her shoulders so you can really use her thigh.

"Fuck, that's it," she encourages. "Knew you could be a good girl for me."

You're embarrassingly close already, in your own little world as you smear arousal all over her thigh with each movement. She loves it, too. She loves how she can take a brothel girl like you and turn her into a dumb whore, desperate enough to do bend over at her command and take whatever she gives.

Sevika isn't surprised when your actions speed up to a frantic pace, your thighs fluttering on either side of her thigh. You're already cumming all over her thigh, making a huge mess. She doesn't mind one bit, though.

You let out the cutest little gasps as you ride out the final moments of your bliss, your hips twitching to milk every bit of stimulation until you're finally sated.

You've got another client soon, and now you're just a fucked-out mess.

taglist: @maple-anon, @abbysbutch, @rhian88, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @mysexy-anxiety, @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @moodient, @leguitarsxxr, @eradicatedbythenightmare, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @saturnhas82moons, @vixxxen, @prettyinpink69, @aceywaycy, @hellokittyfeenie, @starberr1, @ruelezz, @ladybugb0ng, @deluxism, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @lonelysapphic, @x0x0xkimara, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @waitaminuteashh, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs want to be tagged? click here!

[dxmedstudent]

Fundamentally, everyone deserves have control over their body. I don't want a single person to be forced to carry to term just so somebody like me can take their child - that isn't fair to the child, nor to me, but most of all it's not fair to the person whose bodily autonomy has been stripped away.

I think you're absolutely right that much of what hits hard about infertility is that it strips your control away. You spend years taking contraception and planning if - or hopefully, when - you will have a child. And then...crickets. It doesn't happen - because something has gone wrong, either with your body or your partner's body (or both!) and it is just very unlikely to happen. How do you plan your life around that? What do you tell people around you? What avenue do you choose to try to deal with it? Only to find that there are a TON of people around you who are both extremely uninformed and very keen to make a lot of negative judgements or talk about how all your rights should be taken away because they feel *uncomfy* about your life experiences - which they've put no effort into understanding.

I think people need to be very wary of what we are being told - about abortion, about adoption and fostering, about IVF or surrogacy or other things, and whether we're being fed narratives with a hidden agenda that is anti-women and anti-choice.

But also, people campaigning against IVF are campaigning against medical treatment and accommodations for disability. IVF isn't a dark mystical process, it's a medical treatment whereby a person takes medications to encourage their body to do something it struggles to do, and then specialists help improve the outcome. It's intertwined with abortion access, antenatal care and sexual healthcare as a hole. Because they think that they should get to decide who has kids, and who doesn't. Because they think they are more deserving. People with reproductive issues still need abortion access. We still have miscarriages. We still need rights over our own bodily autonomy to ensure that if something does go wrong during a pregnancy, that our needs as living human beings are put above the needs of the bag of cells we've been gestating for a couple of weeks. The process of conception is inherently risky, and inherently prone to things going wrong. There's no way to Save All Embryos. If you think people shouldn't have access to IVF or other reproductive technologies, you're not really pro choice.

Going back to adoption - we shouldn't want people adopting kids if they aren't ready for the complexities of raising a child outside of their community and if they don't have the right support in place. Because those children may have trauma resulting from the circumstances of their birth, their being surrendered, their time in the foster care system, or from any of the other things that have happened to them in their lives. They need caregivers who are equipped to handle that - and not every infertile couple is. In fact, a lot of adoptive parents only feel ready to go that route once they are experienced parents. The needs of the children have to come first in these scenarios - adopted kids aren't a reward to be given away. They also don't fix the grief of your life turning out differently than expected. We need to do more to help potential parents who are considering giving their kids up for adoption. Most people who carry a pregnancy to term do so because they want their children, and want to play a part in raising them, and many families and communities also want to help - it makes far more sense to support these people and these communities so that they can raise their children, rather than to rush to place those children elsewhere. Foster care can be great - I know people who foster, but the aim of that process is almost always to reunify children with their family once they have been adequately supported.

We also need to listen to adoptees themselves. I feel like a lot of people who see adoption as the quick fix for everything... haven't really learned anything about adoption, they just want to shut down conversations about bodily autonomy by saying "adopt don't shop". But it's not that simple - many adoptees have very complex feelings about being taken away from their communities and birth parents, and they aren't a monolith in terms of their experiences. And that's putting aside the fact that there have been times throughout history when adoption agencies and even governments essentially used adoption as a way to avoid socially supporting poor folks by trafficking their children (often explicitly without consent) into the arms of rich couples that could pay. Many people have significant ethical concerns about the industry and around what they can do to make sure their experience is ethical - if that is possible.

There will be times when adoption is the best choice for everyone or may be the only safe option for the children - and in those cases it's important to have adoptive parents who are equipped to handle the needs of these children. But adoption will (and should!) be rare. Nobody should be forced to carry to term or to give up their baby.

Because people should have easy access to contraception and the knowledge to use it. To abortion. To help within their community so that they can raise their own children when they are struggling. If anyone wants to complete their pregnancy and then give a child up for adoption, they should be supported to play a role in their child's life (providing they feel that they can and want to), as long as it's safe for the child. Sadly, birth parents who want open adoptions are often vulnerable to being pushed out of their child's life.

There are no easy choices so people need to stop pretending there's an easy choice, and stop pretending that removing people's rights to bodily autonomy are going to make things easier or fairer.

As someone who struggles with infertility, I *constantly* hear the defense from anti-choicers that I should be upset with abortion because I want a baby.

Let me say this loud and clear- going through infertility, IVF, and a miscarriage has only further strengthened my support of abortion rights.

Why?

Because I know how it feels not to have the right to choose.

Sure, it’s different in that I want a baby and some don’t. But I know the feeling of not being in control of your body. The fear of what the future looks like and how all of your goals and dreams are now murky and uncertain. The horrible depression and anxiety that comes with knowing no matter how hard you try or what you do, you don’t have control of your reproductive system.

Nobody deserves that.

“But, you could have had those babies for adoption!!”

No. Absolutely not. Adoption has never, could never, will never heal infertility. Whatever your opinions on adoption are, adopting a child doesn’t suddenly fix that trauma, and expecting that of them is downright cruel and abusive.

My infertility does not warrant a person to have to endure a pregnancy they don’t want. My infertility does not make their trauma “worth it.” My infertility absolutely doesn’t mean a child should go through adoption trauma all because I want a baby, and someone else doesn’t.

Stop using infertility to defend your bigotry.

[technicallyastar]

I need more 1x4 x y/n posts💔💔💔

Idc if it's NSFW or SFW JUST PLEASEE IM HUNGRY💔💔

Reunion

1x1x1x1 x Admin! Reader

Summary, After being forsakened, you are summoned into a match against a ghost of your past... The ghost decides you both have much to catch up on.

(I do not like summaries...)

1x1x1x1 hatefuck fic when??!

Dirt was kicked up in a cloud, grass uprooted and flung as the entity rushed at you and you abruptly turned and broke so quickly into a sprint that you nearly tripped over your own feet, staggering into scrambling on all fours before clumsily pulling yourself back upright mid tumble.

You could hear them behind you, panting heavily, shaking the ground with each step-

That terrible fast paced rhythm, that repeating, two beat drumming of doom steadily advanced, and no matter how hard you ran it seemed to grow nearer and nearer.

Then a laugh carries over the thunderous pace, bellowing, mighty, reedy and callous.

Ice rushes through your veins as quickly as the sound reaches your ears, spurs you to run faster while also threatening to reduce what strength you had in your wilting legs to jelly.

Something about it sounds familiar, in that sound which is equally horrible as it is amused, but through the panic you could not currently place where or how. It bellowed again, not with a roar of laughter, but a name; your name.

You recognized the cadence, but the tone was unfamiliar- it was too exuberant, joyful to belong to the one that you usually associated this voice with. But you would not get the opportunity to rightfully place whom was calling your name, as you felt a great force slam into your back, and the ground ripped out from under you.

Soil, grass, and artificial sky cartwheel around him, a blur of color, the agony of a great weight crushing you into the ground, and the taste of dirt in your mouth. As quickly as you were sent rolling, the thing that had stalked you, chased you, and that now pins you to the ground. There is no wet grass, no cold dead night sky, no sound in your ears. There is only darkness, the burning sting of dirt grinding into the skin of your cheek, and the agony of what feels like a pickup truck sitting on your back. You can feel your body screaming, every bone in your crippling form bending- threatening to snap and collapse entirely under the pressure. You wants to scream but you can only squeak out a pained, laborious exhale. Breathing, now was the greatest effort you had ever given in all your time in this realm, in your entire existence. Dirt spat from between your lips, grinding against your teeth and sticking to your tongue. You coughed on inhale as some of it jumped down your throat, and with a sputtering cough you ended up swallowing the offending chunks down instead.

“I thought you would be harder to catch. Pathetic for a admin.” Came that voice from above, the one you could not place but felt you knew for years. It was muffled, as your skull was crushed between the ground and the person sitting on you, both of your ears were effectively plugged, loudly ringing from the pressure.

“But then again, what good is your weak viscera against the might of a god. I want you to know I was holding back, I didn’t even break out of a jog. Do you want to know how fast I move when I jog, down to the numerical value?"

You could only muster a muffled grunt, wheezing as you struggled to inhale.

“Sixty-five point six miles per hour. That’s with some rounding. In some parts of the world, they would have measured that as one-hundred-and-five point five-seven-three kilometers per hour.” You felt him inhale, threatening to crush you further into the ground, before roughly huffing in displeasure over something. "I... will give you credit... You've made it this far.”

A sardonic laugh rocked the behemoth upon his back, sending a fresh, excruciating wave of pain rushing through your compressed bones. You could not do much but whimper, you couldn't even muster the strength to struggle against the immense weight.

However, you had figured out who exactly was speaking to you. It was them- It, one by one, The fucking adversary. 1x’s voice was coming from behind you crushing you into the ground.

No more were they saying ‘Never for me!’ this and ‘I hate you!’ It made you wonder what exactly 1x did during that long period of quite after being forsakened, before you arrived too join the rest of the merry band of damned.

But under the current pressure, it was difficult to muster the ability to question anything at the given moment.

Another sound rumbled from 1x. It purred like an engine revving past redline, like a cat in the throes of rapture

It rippled through your prone, compressed form like an earthquake, and for a moment he wondered if this was it, that you were going to be crushed under this weird edgelord.

This was the moment the creation had finally tipped itself over some unseen point of no return that before this point in time Ted could not have fathomed.

“Eugh, perhaps I shouldn't give you the gift of acknowledging your quite dumb luck."

1x was right. You did simply get by on dumb luck, but you wouldn't admit that not ever infront of her. But for better or worse, you could not spare the breath to voice your rebuttal, and you were in too much pain to voice your repudiation, so you decided completely against your own too simply listen too this one-sided conversation.

“I could not believe it either at first, All that chatter about another admin being forsakened. I should have known by how evidently the light left there eyes when they figured you're not here too save them.”

Your body screamed in pain once again as you felt the immense weight upon you rock to the side, and something, maybe a finger, poked you sharply in the side of your already overloaded ribs. “I could not wait too see you. Despite everything..."

The weight rocked back before it returned onto you fully and settled again, and this time You could not help but squeak from the searing rush of full body pain. You would have screamed, but the pressure had forced the air you needed for that right out of your lungs before you had the chance. However there was something new about the pressure now, it felt like a different part of 1x's anatomy was pressing on you. You could feel every breath they took, the rumble each word and syllable she spoke. You could feel the mass above undulate, swallowing as if it had gotten too worked up and managed to make excess spittle in its excitement. You had to be under their throat.

Your compromised position aside, from the pressure placed on you, this had been no different than when 1x had visited you before-, before being consumed by hatred, before becoming forsakened. She would ramble and rant to you then, like he did now, although this time it was to relay scornful wish and scrutinizing critique- with hateful jabs at you dispersed in between, while having their immense bodybsitting on your back. If this was anything like what they did before, 1x would eventually tire of bending your ear and retreat back to their origin.

You thought that would be the case when you noticed another subtle rock in pressure off of your back, momentarily giving you a slight reprieve without letting you up fully.

“But enough about me... Let’s shift focus to you.”

That line alone was enough to send a chill through his veins. If it were not for that precise, restraining pressure on your entire body, you would have tried to get up and run then and there. Even if you would not have a chance to escape 1x entirely, you would have settled for giving them a few minutes of struggling, making them put up an effort to catch you. Instead, you could only listen, wait, and try not to imagine what 1x may intend to do to you. The weight moved once again, lifting this time, and you felt air on the nape of his neck. There was the soothing caress of a cool evening breeze, and then a rush of hot, damp air.

Breath, his breath steaming up the skin on the back of you neck, curling your hair, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could anticipate well enough what 1x could be thinking to do without pondering it in detail. You heard her, felt her inhale again, something smooth and oddly warm pressing against your skin, then sighed like steam jetting from a broken pipe. You tensed, preparing for the worst.

It was strange, being able to actually, physically contact you again. This was the first time, in years of 1x's entire existence, that it could actually hear and touch you with crystal clarity. Not muffled under the oozing poison of hate that so coated it's past memories in a vile, viscous contempt.

Yet, they could not help but find themself torn. It still churned with hate, it still wanted you, their past companion, their bestfriend as you so vainly called yourself. She could certainly turn the conversation towards how you were the last man standing, how you no longer had any shoulder to lean on, no one to share your suffering as you were subjected too whatever 1x saw fit. He could drive it into your puny brain that this was your eternity forever after. But, there was a part of the creation that thought that would be a waste. There was so much more potential here outside of mere psychological torture.

A smile crept into its tone and spread across their maw, something about that fact was oddly amusing,"Just so you know, you have reincarnated ten million two hundred fifty-two thousand seven times. I have watched you burn, and bleed. I have seen your bones poke through your wounds, your guts pulled out, I have heard your screams- every type of scream you make. But it is such a lackluster experience. I felt so detached from it all. But now, that can change. Now that you're here.”

1x could feel you tense up under him, the rub of the texture of your clothing against its metallic armour. Strange, that. She had never felt the texture before, it made her involuntarily twitch as the wool tickled sensitive buds of her clawed fingers seated onto your back. The portions of the shirt that touched him were oddly soft in comparison- your attire would be investigated in time,

Right now, they really wanted to investigate you in general. It's truly been too long.

adjusting their posture where she lounged, pinning you under powerful limbs and its heavy barrel chest.

This was a juggling act that he just now had a chance to practice in person. Certainly she had analyzed and considered what exactly she needed to do in order to keep your pitiful form pinned to the ground, crushed without popping organs or breaking bones, keeping you teetering just on the edge of smothering without making you suffer true asphyxiation. But now, 1x walked a careful tightrope of maintaining a precise amount of pressure, while still allowing them to manipulate you as he pleased, and without killing you.

Her nose ducked down, eyes taking in the beading sweat upon the back of your neck- what little of it could be seen between the collar of your shirt and the bottom of your hairline. 1x tilted their head, appraising the way those beads glistened in the low light, and took a few snuffs- letting the smell fill their nasal cavity, lighting up every receptor available to properly experience, to analyze. It was sharp, sour, enough to make his nose crinkle and her lip curl. The tip of her tongue slipped from between its lips soon after, rasping over your damp, clammy skin.

Salty, warm. Intriguing, as they licked their lips, it spread the flavor of it around her mouth to better analyze this sample.

There was a thoughtful hum as if appraising what it had tasted before it continued, "how... Dubious" They mused, deciding not to pay any heed to the muffled whimpering beneath them. “The best way to know the world is to experience it, to touch it, taste it, smell it, hear and see it all personally. To experience you, personally...”

Flattering as it should be from someone other than 1x to you to be chosen, to be desired to explore- perhaps not so much out of choice but a lack of choice, you did not seem too eager to know what the adversary entailed. You tensed up as the assailent got in close again, smelling your hair, your clothing, tasting them, pondering the way the strands of hair stuck to her tongue, sampled the stench of your fear.

Cloth rasped against his tongue, equally void black and with an outline of that poisonous green that surrounded the rest of its form.

They moved, adjusting their posture and position so she knelt behind you, sitting on your legs so they were pinned beneath her bulk, but your torso was pinned by a large, strong hand wrapping around it. The other had quickly snatched up the your wrists and pinned them above your head in compensation for not being unable to press you into the dirt like they wanted.

Her lip quivered, baring metallic, blade-like teeth. Again he shifted posture and position, lounging and pinning you to the ground like a oversized cat with its prey partially pinned beneath its body and under its paws. Their breath rolled against the back of your neck again, but this time, there was a quiet parting of your skin. It was not a large wound, no larger and deeper than a mild paper cut, but it drew a pained squeak from you all the same. Fascinated 1x watched as the layers gave way to crimson, vessels severing under its scalpel-sharp mouth and oozing ruby droplets that grew heavy and rolled down your skin.

He quickly caught them on his tongue, immediately lighting her senses up with the salty metallic taste. An urge rose up within her, a tug within her chest where her cold rotting heart would be that she had not had nor felt before. A sensation that danced up his spine and raced through their form, restless, and suddenly it took effort to stay put. They wanted more from you, they wanted to slice open more than a little cut on the back of your neck, it wanted to tear you open. They wanted to shove their nose into your guts and taste your steaming innards, to feel that hot crimson cover their face and your organs rupture and spill their viscous fluids into their throat.

“Please, stop.” you squeaked,

Instead, Teeth tore and twisted your skin, drawing scream after pained scream. Each bite felt like razor blades slicing into you, like you had been fed to a garbage disposal. From the back of your head to your hips, you had felt 1x dig into your flesh, and yet did not tear into them all the same. It lasted for what felt like an eternity, as 1x found new, fresh areas of you that had been left unmarred. Then, the adversary took his time in tearing, cutting, slicing open your clothes and carefully, methodically worrying the skin upon your back until it popped and bled. She busied herself like this, waiting for older wounds to coagulate and scab, only to tear them open so they bled freely again, and digging a little deeper each time. The creation never went far enough to hit anything vital, it avoided the routes of his veins and arteries, focusing on the smaller, safer vessels close to the skin. It never broke the skin layer too prolong this heart-warming reunion.

[levigarden999]

part 2 ♡ dumb!bakugo x reader

part 1 here ʚଓ theme : bakugo is a cute nervous wreck around u ⋆˙⟡

you had been playing this addictive, sweet little game with bakugo for weeks now.

no matter how confident or arrogant the stubborn boy was, somehow around you he lost all of his confidence. of course, he tried to act the exact same way he had always acted towards you – rude, smug and most of all just someone who was above you. however, bakugo was sure he had lost his mind. he just couldn’t be rude to you anymore and he didn’t understand why.

bakugo hated how weak and pathetic he had became. he couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so… soft? everytime you talked to him, even looked at him, his mind just went blank. bakugo felt his cheeks heating up to the point even his ears were burning – and by the way you smirked, he knew you noticed that as well.

bakugo was embarrassed. almost humiliated. as if you wanted to make him seem weak on purpose!

of course, you didn’t want that. you just enjoyed teasing bakugo now since you were pretty sure he was catching feelings for you as well. ever since you realized he wasn’t as oblivious as before, you gained confidence to approach him properly.

”hey, kats” you tapped his shoulder while walking through the hallway. an innocent smile was plastered on your face, your eyes staring up at him as if you had no idea about the effect you had on him.

he nearly flinched at your touch and with a quick movement turned to look at you. there he was again – the blood rushing to his face and making his cheeks flush with that pretty pink. you found him adorable.

”what do you want?” he scowled and pressed his lips together. he had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, but you could notice how nervously his fingers were fidgeting in both of his pockets. how could someone even be that obvious?

”you wanna come to my place tomorrow? i need some help with my quirk and since you’re so strong, i wondered if…. if you’d like to give me some advice on how to be a better fighter” you clasped your hands behind your back, the same sweet, soft smile on your pretty lips.

bakugo blinked one, two, three times, and his mouth opened a little from surprise. he once again felt his heart pounding against his chest as he stared down at you, those pretty eyes looking so wide and hopeful.

”huh? me? you want me to help you?” he asked with that raspy and bewildered tone. bakugo couldn’t understand why you, a strong hero, would need his help.

”mm-hm” you nodded and smiled wider.

he looked so cute like this, those usually so sharp and straight up angry eyes now softened and widened. you wanted to just grab him by his face and kiss those stupid cheeks and cling to him like a baby monkey.  but that would come later, you had to lock in for now.

”i- uh-” he scratched his disheveled hair, his voice lower and suddenly uncertain. ”i don’t usually help people, like, ever. but i mean, if you insist, i guess i can try. but you better listen and not be a fucking brat” he mumbled almost reluctantly, his eyes drifting somewhere else from you. he didn’t want to see the look on your face now since he had given in.

”thanks, kats! you’re the best!” you exclaimed. for a second you almost pulled him into a hug, but then you remembered, it was bakugo after all. no matter how in love bakugo would be with someone, i knew he wasn’t the type of person who would appreciate sudden hugs or affection. especially in such a public place, you wanted to respect the awkward boy’s boundaries.

”what ever” he grumbled and shoved his hand back in his pocket. he looked down and frowned, a small pout on his surprisingly plump lips. as if he was disappointed in himself by giving in to your wish. 

you chuckled. ”okay, see you tomorrow, i’ll find ya after school” you said casually and smiled while waving a goodbye. you walked off and bakugo was left there, wondering his life decisions. what the hell had gotten into him? katsuki bakugo was suddenly doing things he would never do (helping people) for a GIRL he didn’t even know that well.

[sydwritess]

Monaco Baby!

Lando Noriss x fem!reader

Summary: A tough weekend in Monaco has Lando stresses, unable to eat, sleep, anything. Until reader was there to comfort him. She encourages him that he can win, so he does, he wins quali, and the official race, thanking nobody but reader.

First Person POV

It had been a rough weekend for Lando. FP1 started strong, but unfortunately, he got out and ran my Max. The next day, FP2, he did well but got beat by Lewis. He was frustrated. I could see it in his face when he took his helmet off. FP3 went just as well as the last. Scoring 3rd place. When he got out of the car, he just looked drained. Instead of going to the media, he set off straight to his drivers room.

"How's he doing?" Zak asked. Interrupting me from my thoughts.

"I have no idea." I said, starring at the door Lando had slammed, walking inside.

"Well he did go to the press. So that's not a good sign." He said, walking back over to the computers. "Are you going to him?" He asked. I nodded slowly, hesitantly.

"Mind taking this to him?" He asked, handing me an ice ring, that other drivers are seen wearing.

"Of course." I said quietly. I made my way through the door, inside. I walked straight to Lando's room, gently knocking on the door. No answer. I open the door slowly to see him sitting on the small couch, his head in his hands.

"Hey." I said lightly. He looked up to see me, then back down again.

"Zak wanted me to bring this to you." I said, holding up the ice ring. I walked over to him, sitting next to him, and I put it around him.

"Thanks." He mumbled, barley audible.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. He didn't answer. Just sat there with his head in his hands. I grabbed one of his hands, holding it tightly. Just sitting there with him.

"I know this has been hard for you. I can see it in you." I said gently. "All we have to do is keep trying. Tomorrow is a new day, new race." I said. He looked up at me and then hugged me.

The next day came within a flash. Lando was getting suited up, and I was outside, watching everyone look like they were in a panic, trying to hurry.

"You ready, kid?" Zak said, I hadn't even noticed Lando came out of his room.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He said. Zak led him over to the car, but before he got in, he looked at me.

"Good luck out there." I said hugging him.

"Going to need it." He said sadly.

"You got this. Just give it your all. Okay?" I say, I felt him nod.

"Alright, come on." Zak said, not trying to be rude, but signaling there was short time left.

"You'll do great." I said, giving him a quick kiss. He nodded and got into the car. I walked out of the garage and to the sidelines. I saw lando pull out of his garage, pulling in to the third spot. All other nineteenth drivers got situated in their spots. I put a mic that Zak had given me and looked at the screen as soon as the lights went off. Charles had sped off, leading in first, Max in second. Lando was struggling to keep up a bit.

Rounds and rounds later, drivers over take other drivers. Lando was still third. Fighting against Max for second.

He had done it. Second place, he over took Max.

"Nice Lando, keep it up with Leclerc." Zak said through the radio.

"He's far ahead. Max is on my tail, I don't know." Lando said back.

"You can." Zak said. Lando hesitated through the mic. Then he put me on.

"What?" I said.

"Your on." Zak whispered.

"Y/n?" I heard through the mic.

"Lando, you've got this." I said. "This is what you trained for, I've seen you beat Max before and you can do it again." I said. I heard his breath through the mic.

"Trust me. Just do what your team says and you'll be out on top. Like you always are. I belive in you." I said. Jist then I watched as he sped up. Max started falling behind more from Lando. Then within seconds, just before the end he had done it. He passed Charles and won.

"Yes! Let's fucking go mate!" Zak expressed happily.

"Lando you've done!" I said happily.

"I've done it!" He repeated. The team all expressed their happiness, hugging, high-fiving each other. I stepped outside of the garage, waiting for Lando to pull near.

As soon as he did, he hopped out of his car and ran straight to me, hugging me tightly, helmet on and everything.

"I did it. We did it." He said.

"You did. You really did. I knew you could." I said, hugging him back tightly.

After the press and the interviews were over, we went back to his room, and sat in their. Nothing was said or heard.

"You were great today." I said quietly. He looked at me and smiled.

"You believed in me." He said smiling ear to ear.

"I always have. I always will." I said smiling back.

The next day was eventful, too. There were pre-race interviews, and fans asking him to autograph things. The team going over their final strategies with him. It was finally time for the race.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, walking eith him outside.

"Nervous." He replied

"Don't be. P1 you'll do great, as long as you have your head in the game." I said. Before going up to his car, he stopped, grabbing my hand.

"Will you be there? On the radio?" He asked.

"Of course. Cheering you on as always." I smiled. "Go on and win racing boy." I said. Before he left, he pulled me into a deep, long kiss.

"I think that will bring me good luck, yeah?" He said.

"You know it." I said. He went and got in the car, driving to line up. In first. The red lights had disappeared. And the drivers rushed off. Lando was in first. Leclerc in second, piastri in third. All chasing for the finish line. Lando held first for the race, doing well.

"Alright, Lando, keep this up for the final lap, mate." Zak said.

"Got it." Lando said. Pausing as he went around a turn. "Is y/n there?" He asked.

"Yeah, she's here." He said. I looked over. Zam mouthed. 'He's asking for you.' I turned the mic on at the station I was sat at.

"Hey Lando." I said.

"Y/n I'm stressing." He said "Zak is wrong I don't think I can keep up." He said.

"First of all, Zak can hear you." I said.

"Shit. Forgot."

"You got this. You need to stop having so much doubt." I said.

"What if people don't see me." He said.

"You need to stop caring what people say. If they were truly your fans, they'd stick around no matter what. Your almost there." I said. He just deep breathed. Compelling a few more turns.

"You got this Lan." I said. He crossed the finish line. He had done it.

"Yess! Monaco baby! Zak said.

"Monaco baby! Yeah baby!" Lando said over the mic. I saw him lift his fist in the air, cheering for himself.

He made one more lap, showing the fans that he had won. Then he pulled over by the sidelines and ran. Sprinted even.

"Monaco baby we did it!" He said hugging me.

"You did!" I said.

"We did." He corrected.

"I knew it. I knew you could. You just needed that boost, babe." I said.

"Thank you. For everything." He said smiling.

Hey loves! First Lando, imagine! Hope you like it! Comment to be added to the f1 tag list!

[rueclfer]

hiiiiihiiiiiihiiiiya

for the job fair (super congrats btw!!!!) i was mayhaps thinking about pro-athlete keigo (what kind you can decide based on what u think is hottest) and physical therapist reader ;) keigo keeps getting injured and flirting/distracting reader while they’re working?

mayhaps a very no nonsense reader who just “did you do your stretches😐” everytime he shows up and he’s delusional and flirting with them anyways

i love this event idea soooo much good luck with all the submissions!!! and congrats again 6k!!!!!

hhiihihaiiiihiiiii cartteerererer!!! HEHEH THANK U FOR THIS athlete keigo is ALWAYS. on my mf mind and i just think pro hockey keigo is just so. So SO. yeah.

athlete!keigo // job fair

event m.list

it’s been a busy morning in the office. this season has given you multiple players dealing with the consequences of neglected injuries from past years, making it your job to put together meticulous warm up and recovery routines for them.

your eyes shift towards the sound of the door clicking open. you expect it to be the head coach checking in on the paperwork, but when you swivel around in your chair, you’re met with the captain- long sandy hair pushed back with a wire headband, sweat drenched gray cut off t-shirt, and a limp to match that pout on his face.

you blink at each other for a moment.

“did you need something, takami?”

“i think i pulled something.” he pressed his lips together in a tight line.

you match his expression, nodding towards the treatment table where he quickly hobbled over and comfortably laid flat on his stomach like he’s done dozens of times before.

you cock an eyebrow as his shy smile, “you sure you’re not just here to skip out on your conditioning?” 

“i just lead us through two sets of stadiums and a million passing drills before coach let me come here,” he rolls his eyes, “but you know, i somehow suddenly always feel like a million bucks when i get to see you.”

“cool it, takami,” you groan, “is it your hamstrings again?”

he nods his head in response.

“what’d you do before practice?”

you move over to him, pressing your thumbs into the back of his thighs and feeling around for the tightness.

there’s some sort of satisfaction in hearing the hiss of air exiting through his clenched teeth as you dig into his muscles. you can’t help yourself from smiling at the image of his cheek pressed against the table, eyes shut tight, and knuckles clenched white from the pain.

“had lunch with the boys,” he squeaks out, “ran through some old matches, saved a kitten from a tree, helped an old lady across the street…”

your eyes flicker up to meet his. you resisted the eye roll once you’re met with a cheeky grin and a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

“and stretched?” you deadpan, “like i told you to?”

his smile falters.

“well-” he begins.

“idiot,” you cut him off, “are you trying to ruin your career?”

his cheeks deepen in color as he tries to stammer out the right words.

“no, but-”

“on the floor, takami. on your back.” you instruct, stepping away from the table.

keigo slides off the table and squats down onto his back. he looks up at you with a wobbly smile as he slides his hands behind his head, enjoying the view from the floor.

you bring his leg up against your body, gripping his shin for support as you slowly lean into it, giving his hamstrings the time to adjust to the stretch.

“jesus fuck,” he winces, hands flying to grab the back of his thigh for support.

“that’s what happens when you don’t stretch. especially on conditioning day.” you press further, stepping up his side for leverage. “you should know better.”

“no complaints here, babe,” he hisses, “but fuck, take a guy to dinner first before you have him in a position like this.”

you feel heat crawl up your neck as he looks up at you with a pained smirk.

“take me to dinner for wasting my time to stretch you.”

his eyes beam and his leg stiffens against you, making you turn your attention towards him.

“it’s a date then. no take backs.” he quips. “tonight or whenever you’re free.”

you blink at him. surely your face had gone red at this point.

“maybe," you mutter, "only to remind you how to properly warm up though. nothing more.”

“a warm up is exactly while i’ll need.”

[thespianinthebackcorner]

Hey hey hey writers!!! Especially y'alls who are struggling to develop character or have white room/still character syndrome!!!

Look into Uta Hagen's acting techniques, specifically her 9 questions. I'm not kidding. She built off Stanislavski's techniques to help actors develop their characters and roles & bring that to the stage- specifically, and this is why I'm pushing Hagen specifically and not anyone else, their relationship with the set, props, other characters, setting (yes that's different from set), history and the play's plot, and how that changes how they act and speak. I have my textbook open I'll take some pictures.

If you need a transcript/image description I'll put it under the cut, they're a little blurry cause I'm bad at holding my phone... I know alt text is a thing but I don't want y'alls to have to scroll through a tiny box lmao.

[Image 1 alt text]

The lower part of a textbook page. The text reads:

Uta Hagen's acting exercises

[Out-of-transcript note: Most of these, with the exception of Three Entrances, are less useful in terms of writers, but you could make it work, especially for roleplay.]

Basic Object Exercise: Sometimes called "two minutes of daily life," this exercise requires the actor to replicate activities from their own daily routine in specific detail (think making breakfast or getting ready to go out). The goal of this exercise is to increase the actor's awareness of their un-observed behaviour.

Three Entrances: Starting offstage, the actor enters the environment of the scene. The actor's performance should answer three questions: What did I just do? What am I going to do? What is the first thing I want?

Immediacy: Hagen asked actors to search for a small object that they need. You can perform the exercise on a set or in your home. As you search, you should observe the behaviour and thoughts that arise as you authentically try to find something. The objective is to identify the thoughts, behaviours, and sensations you experience when you genuinely don't know the outcome, so you can use them on stage.

Fourth Side: This exercise starts with a phone call to a person you know. You should call them with a specific objective in mind. During the convention, Hagen wants you to focus on your surroundings and the specific objects that your eyes rest on. The purpose is to help actors observe how they interact with all dimensions of an enclosed physical space so they can recreate privacy on stage.

Endowment: this exercise is designed to help actors apply their observed behaviours to endow props with qualities that they cannot safely have on stage. Hot irons and sharp knives are typical examples. The Endowment excercise asks actors to believably treat objects on stage as though they have the qualities the actor needs in a scene.

Uta Hagen's exercises are her greatest gift to actors working today. She developed them between Broadway jobs to solve some acting problems she had never seen anyone tackle to her satisfaction. The result is that Hagen's exercises give actors a way to observe human behaviours and catalogue it so they can recall it onstage when useful in a role.

[Image 1 alt text end]

[Image 2 alt text]

Most of a textbook page. The image cuts off about 3 quarters of the way down the page. The text reads:

Uta Hagen's 9 Questions

Who am I? This question's answer includes all relevant details from name and age to physical traits, education, and beliefs.

What time is it? Depending on the scene, the most relevant measure of time can be the era, the season, the day, or even the specific minute.

Where am I? This answer covers the country, town, neighbourhood, room, or even the specific part of the room.

What surrounds me? Characters can be surrounded by anything from weather to furnishings, landscape or people.

What are the given circumstances? Given circumstances include what has happened, what is happening and what will happen to a character.

What are my relationships? Relationships can be with the other characters in the play, inanimate objects, or even recent events.

What do I want? Wants can be what the character desires in the moment, or in the overall course of the play. [Out-of-transcript note: I recommend figuring out both for writing, the former multiple times for whenever it changes! Outside of Hagen's technique, we call it objective and superobjective.]

What is in my way? This is the actor's chance to understand the obstacles the character must react to and overcome.

What do I do to get what I want? In Hagen's teaching, "do" means physical action.

Uta Hagen's nine questions help actors develop the granular details of their character's backstory. The questions come from Hagen's first book, "Respect for Acting," though in her later book, "A Challenge for the Actor," she condensed her original nine questions into six steps.

Uta Hagen's revised six steps to building a character are:

Who am I?

What are the circumstances?

What are my relationships?

What do I want?

What is my obstacle?

What do I do to get what I want?

Later in her life, Hagen distances herself from her first book and encouraged her students to rely on her second book, which she felt was clearer about her concepts. Both books are popular with acting teachers and students today, however. Hagen's questions and steps are the foundation for all of her acting exercises. Whether you rely on the nine questions or the six steps depends on personal preference.

[Image 2 alt text end]

Personally I like the 9 questions more, but like the book says, personal preference! So yeah, if you're a writer, try some of these out for your characters. :]