#what is there to defend when your actions says everything

[dreamweave01]

I need Raph being insecure about his Krang half and doubting Kendra’s love for him because of it. (”how could she love a monster like me? I dont deserve her…”)

I need Raph accidentally harming Kendra when he has a panic attack or something.

I need Raph being afraid and certain that Kendra os gonna be scared of him because of it; hate him, be mad at him, cut ties with him. (Donnie is ready to attack Kendra if she breaks Raph’s heart.)

But Kendra isn't mad. She's only worried (and a bit shaken).

Im a sucker for angst 😭

(no pressure, Do whatever you want; this is your au and I have no say in it)

- Paranormal Anon

.

.

And this is why the turtles have to be careful what they watch for movie night. Dang those triggers.

I'm completely unashamed to admit that I just spent several hours working on this instead of working on anything else I was supposed to. Who woulda thought Kendrael angst would hold me in a death-grip?

I think timeline-wise this would happen some time after the next arc. I like how I tell myself I'll stop jumping ahead of where I'm at in the story, and then ideas like this get thrown at me from out of the blue and suddenly I'm incapable of thinking about anything else /pos

Aaand now it's time for rambles ->

What I really liked about this thought was that it allows me to show a side of Raph that he absolutely hates about himself.

Everyone has this side to them that they bury deep inside, never to see the light of day, and for big Red over here, it's his natural tendency to lean towards 'fight' in a fight-or-flight response.

Really, it has nothing to do with the Kraang and everything to do with the ninja training as a kid. He and his brothers were born with the intent to be soldiers, and while yes, Splinter did everything in his power to give them a wonderful childhood - and did a darn good job too might I add - learning how to defend yourself led the turtles to trust their abilities to fight.

Now you could say, "But DW, what about in the movie when Raph told them to retreat blah blah blah-" That was a specific situation that called for specific actions. If there had been any chance they could've won that fight and if Splinter hadn't been injured, I'm willing to bet Raphael wouldn't have called for a retreat.

My point is, these boys are fighters. They take on a problem head-on, and unfortunately, that natural tendency is center stage of Raph's trauma.

The Kraang turned him into a soldier, their personal pet that didn't hesitate to follow orders.

None of it was Raph's doing, none of it was even close to being his fault, but the thing that terrifies him the most is that he'll lose control and hurt the people he loves. Again.

That 'again' makes it even worse, because he knows he's capable of it. He knows he could kill them because he has before, there's no doubt about it in his mind. Yes, he's the sweetest most gentlest giant in the world, but that doesn't take away the fact that he's a mountain of battle-trained muscle and has the power of a freight train, if not more. So he does everything he can to keep that fighter inside of him under wraps at all times, refuses to even risk letting that side of him see a glimmer of the light of day.

But he's not perfect, and there are moments like the one above where he's so heavily triggered into that fight-or-flight response, he goes into a tunnel-vision and doesn't even realize what he's doing because at this point, it's instinctual for him to defend himself. It always has been.

And when he snaps out of it, that's when the fear takes him, that overwhelming guilt that feels like it'll swallow him up whole.

And poor Kendra! She knows that Raph and his brothers have been through a lot - Mikey's mentioned things here and there to the rest of the friend group - but seeing in person just how hard it was? Exactly what Raph's experiences have done to him?

It's really hard to see someone you love and care so deeply about going through something so unbelievably horrible.

But she knows a thing or two about guilt, the fear of hurting people again, and you better believe she's going to do everything in her power to show Raph that nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could ever push her away from him.

She will always love him, no matter what he looks like, what he's been through, what he does.

Guys, this is why I love them, agh, they're so precious-

[ray935sworld]

The smell of you

getting together marcmarc, omega verse

Marc was making aggressive comments towards Pecco. Since he didn't want things to escalate between them, Pecco decided to go and try figure out what's going on with the older alpha.

For the rpf summer camp by @love-leah, absolutely amazing and I love the idea <3

(pls look at the patch, it's adorable. I love it soooo much)

Davide pinched his noise. Everything had worked so well. For months everything had been good.

And now - something had happened.

Marc was snappy. His usual friendly behavior, his loud laughter, had changed into a lingering threat. A threat that was directed at the younger, other alpha, Pecco.

Everyone in the factory realized it. It was the way Marc made comments about the bike obviously not being the problem. The missing ability to adjust to changes of some riders. Everything Pecco had critized over the last few weeks, turned around and made into a joke about him.

Soon his comments got even more aggressive, more pointed, accompanied by looks that felt like a death sentence. At that point, it was only a question of when the two alpha riders would have an actual clash.

"Rut?" Gigi suggested after another meachnic had gave them a warning glance. One that said 'Don't wanna switch with Pecco'. "Already checked, doc says the suppressants can't have failed. And he's only like that to Pecco. Normal to every other alpha" "Then what else?"

Davide knew this could be the start of a disaster. They had to solve this as fast as they could, so he pulled them apart as soon as possible.

"Why is Marquez chewing your head off?" "I don't know!" Pecco defended himself as the old Italian pulled the young rider to the side. "I didn't do anything. I swear!"

"Really?" he asked, crossing his arms. He gave him a demanding look, one that gave Pecco the feeling he was talking to his father or Vale. "Yes. Really!"

"Pecco, I just want to help you." he tried more gentle. His scent was kind. Soft. It settled a part of Pecco he didn't realized was on edge. "Is there really nothing that comes to your mind? Did you - you're both alphas. Did you two went out and you know - had eyes on the same-" "I am happily mated." Pecco shot back, visible angry about the implication. "Thank you very much. As Marc is well aware. So no!"

"Okay, okay, just asking." he replied, raising his hands in defeat, showing he believed him. "I'm just trying to help. Marc is pissed at you and no one knows why. So either, we figure this out and settle thing or we see how things go."

Pecco nodded, knowing he didn't want to be the next target in Marc's psychic plays.

Gigi hadn't found out anything from Marc either. He had just scoffed and lied about everything being okay. So the Italian only had one option left.

Confrontation.

He made his way over to Marc's room. He took a deep breath and knocked. When he heard the expected "Come in!", he entered only to be greeted with an annoyed sigh and an eye roll. Marc's scent immediately turned sour. And Pecco didn't need to have the fine nose of an omega to realize that.

"What?!" Marc asked, clearly unhappy about his visit.

"Hi. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you to - figure things out" he started slowly. "OH fuck off-" he mumbled and stood up. He made a move to leave but Pecco hold onto him. His arm went up to his and he quickly hold onto him.

"Wait, I-" and the next thing he knew was that he was being pushed back. He didn't fall, he just stumbled back a little while Marc pulled his arm back with all his force. "Don't fucking touch me!" he hissed.

Pecco stared at him in disbelief. He blinked confused, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. He hadn't been aggressive. He hadn't done anything to spike his behavior.

And the way Marc reacted felt absolute over the top.

Even Marc looked confused about his actions.

He looked at the young alpha. He saw how he still didn't turn aggressive. He was just surprised. There truly was no need for his behavior.

Marc was trying to find his words. Words to justify shoving him, yelling at him, being rude despite Pecco being polite, even kind to him.

He tried to find a reason. A justification. Something Pecco had done. But there was nothing.

But he didn't know why he had acted like this. But ever since they had seen each other that morning, Marc had felt an incredible rage towards the younger man. He had smelled him and suddenly all he felt was hate.

He couldn't stand looking at him without fantasizing about punching him in the face. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to prove that he was the better alpha. That he was stronger, more experienced and just over all - better.

But he didn't know why.

There was this unsettling feeling in him that caused it. As if everything else would take something away from him. Hurt him. Leave his skin itching. But he couldn't explain why.

It was only then, that he realized he was running on instincts. He had let his alpha side take control. But still. It made no sense to him.

He looked up, slowly. He stared at Pecco, blinking a few times. "I'm sorry", he forced himself to say. The itch his alpha cause risining again. There was this tiny voice, yelling at him to fight. Not apologize. Fight. And win. "I... I don't know why but I can't fucking stand you at the moment."

"I figured. You've been acting off all day." Pecco said, an accusation in his tone. But he kept calm. "Just tell me what I did and we can work something out, okay?" "I - I don't know, okay?! I just - I want to punch you in the face." he admitted. At least part of him had tbe decency to feel shameful over it.

"Since when?" Pecco asked, ignoring the statement and just deciding to figure out what's going on. "This morning." "Yesterday? Last week? During any race weekend?" "No" "Okay..."

Pecco nodded slowly, mentally going through the last 24 hours. There had to be something - anything, different from his routine that caused this change.

"That's - oh." he muttered, suddenly realizing what was different. He couldn't help but smile as he thought a little more back to confirm his theory.

"What?" Marc asked. "I..." he laughed. "I think I know what's going on" "Mm? What?"

"Marc, are you in love with my best friend?" Pecco asked while trying to surpress a smile. The Spaniards eyes went wide. "What?" "Are you in love with my best friend? With Bez?" "Bez" "Bez. You know, winner of the last gp, Bez, Marco Bezzecchi. Italian. Formerly long hair and curls. With-" "I know who Bez is!" Marc snapped.

The thought was running through his head. He wasn't denying it. He couldn't. Not after all the times he had yearned for the young omega. The last grand prix, when they shared a podium had made it so hurtful clear how much he wanted him.

Marc had stared at the young man, standing on top of tbe podium, laughing and all he had thought about was sinking his teeth in that beautiful neck and making him his own.

He had seen the picture of Marco, sweaty, dripping with champaign and he had imagine he'd be the one causing him to be that wet and sweaty. But under him.

"So?" Pecco asked, disrupting his thoughts. "Why?" Marc shot back defensively. "That shirt is Bezs." "What?" "The shirt I'm wearing is actually Bezs. He wore it yesterday. He came by because he was feeling down and we cuddle and I accidentally put it on this morning." Pecco explained.

Marc stared at him. His instincts were still running high so a part of him wanted to curse him out. He hated the thought that Marco had gone to Pecco, even cuddled with him, when he was feeling sad instead of to him. Especially because he had been close too.

He shook his head. He had no claim on Marco. They weren't even friends. They were friendly. But not friends. Bez had no reason to look to Marc for comfort.

Still, the realization bugged him.

"I think you're jealous that I'm wearing one of Bez shirt and I'm smelling like him. And that causes your instincts to run high" Marc's mouth went dry. Knowing this was excatly what happened. "Egh? No. No no no no."

"Really?" Pecco asked, pulling the shirt off. He hadn't worn it for long and he hadn't been sweating so he was sure it wouldn't smell like him yet. He dropped it on the couch in Marc's room, watching how Marc's eyes shifted to it. Lingering on tbe fabric. The hunger in his eyes even more noticeable.

"Keep it." Marc had to force himself to look back at him. A voice in his head demanding to grab the shirt and keep it safe, make sure he couldn't take it away again. "Trust me when I say, he'd prefer if you have it... You two have some things to figure out" Pecco said with a chuckle before he left.

Marc knew how important the smell and shirts smelling like someone was for Omegas. Not just to show that they belong to a certain alpha but also to show that their own alpha was already claimed.

He had learned it the hard way. He had barely been 20, only formally teammates with Dani, a kind and very protective omega.

During their years as teammates, Dani had warmed up to him and essentially adopted him as a pup. But they hadn't yet been close when he had accidentally grabbed one of Dani's Honda corporate shirts and put it on. He hadn't realized the different smell since his scent wasn't that good and everything was still new and different.

It was only when Dani smacked him over the head that he realized his mistakes. It had taken him by surprised and cause him to stare at the older rider with wide eyes.

Dani had looked angry and the gesture had been something he had never done before. Dani had demanded he go change. Marc hadn't understand immediately but when he realized that he, an alpha, would be smelling like Dani, despite Dani dating - not yet mated - to Jorge, he had understand.

Since then he had made an effort with things like that, so if felt wrong to just take the shirt that was still smelling like Marco. It felt violating towards the Italian man and the last thing he wanted was to hurt him in any way.

Marc stared at the shirt, laying there like a sweet sin. His eyes were constantly on it, feeling the need to grab it and smell it, search for the scent of the omega in the fabric and wrap it around him to savior it.

"Fuck" he muttered.

Before he knew it, he took out his phone.

He opened WhatsApp and looked throw the riders group chat. He checked the contacts and quickly found the right one.

~ theBez🦂 was the user name, the profile picture one of Rubik.

Marc snapped a picture of the shirt, his hand on the fabric, not being able to stand the thought if not being allowed to touch the little piece he had of the omega.

"Can I wear it? Pecco gave it to me. It's your shirt. Still smells like you" he texted.

It took a few minutes until he got a reply.

"Yes. Please."

[mechanicalinfection]

a man made monster

[partiallysame]

Hi! Love your Price's Lil Wife drabbles so much! I was wondering how birthdays (for the boys) are treated now that they have Price's Missus looking out for them? Also, how does one go about finding out Simon's birthday (lord knows that man won't willingly give that info up without severe puppy eyes)?

Johnny offhandedly said he’d want whatever meal you just made for his birthday next year and the giant exaggerated gasp that left you had all the men minus your husband ready to defend ready to jump into action but no need for any actual panic. “YOUR BIRTHDAY. WHEN IS YOUR BIRTHDAY?” Johnny told you and fuck you missed it. Kyle’s too. Big ol smile and head snapping over to Simon to ask him. Price was behind you shaking his head waving his hand in front of his neck trying to save Simon from answering the question. He wasn’t going to anyway but now he was curious as to why he shouldn’t (personalized and handmade triangular party hat that is mandatory to wear all day and too many pictures).

“Whens your birthday Simon?” Big ol smile on your face dropping when he says

“Don’t got one”

“Yes you do”

“No I don’t”

“Simon Riley” uh oh. “Tell me when your birthday is”. He let out a mhm mhm and you turned to your husband who held his hands up in defense. Ofc he wasn’t gonna help. Now your crossed arms in front of him trying to look mean. “Tell me.” He shook his head. Fine you’ll let it go for now (no you’re not) Gonna have to get creative.

Breakfast the next day you asked before handing him his plate. Making it seem like he wouldn’t get the food if he didn’t answer. He didn’t. You gave it to him anyway. “I’ll make your favorite for dinner if you tell me” “everything you make is my favorite” shut up Simon.

Now he’s sitting on the couch and you approach him with the prettiest saddest lil puppy dog eyes you could muster. Finger tracing his biceps. “Just wanna celebrate you Simon. Without your birthday you’d never have come into my life. Wanna make you feel special.” He almost broke. Your big eyes. Sweet voice. Gentle, teasing touch. He was so close to telling you. But he hesitated too long and you switched tactics hard and fast.

“Fine. But you made me do this Riley. Remember that” and suddenly you were calling for MacTavish who came strutting in the stupidest smile on his face holding a dark blue jersey. “From now on this is a Scotland house” you said putting on Johnny’s Scotland National football jersey. No no no. Simon began panicking watching Johnny put on a matching one. “On game days. This house will NOT be watching Manchester anymore.” Wait wait wait. “I’ll tell ya please” Simon’s reaching for you. Don’t do this. He’s begging but you’re not giving in. “It’s may 17th please lovie don’t go this far. Take it off.” He’s trying to pull the jersey off of you, fighting Johnny’s hands trying to keep it on you. Price walked in on the scene “dear god Lieutenant what did you do?” His wife wearing the wrong colors? Oh Riley’s gonna pay for this.

[chamerionwrites]

Honestly this gets at my chiefest complaint/frustration/discomfort with fandom as a whole. Which is: in their rush to defend the artistic merit of fanworks I think a ton of people have really valorized transformation and remixing and reinterpretation in and of themselves, when imo those are all quite neutral actions. When done well, they can expand and build upon and subvert meaning in really powerful and thought-provoking (and fun!) ways. When done poorly, they are just as likely to flatten and oversimplify and decontextualize and completely erase meaning. The simple act of changing something does not imbue the choice to do so with creative validity. It is entirely possible for a cover song to be bad (or just boring!). To exactly the same degree that it is possible to transform a pretty shallow and straightforward work into something deeper and more nuanced and subversive, is possible to transform a work into a vastly shallower and less interesting shadow of itself. As with nearly everything in art, it's all about the execution!

But the second you voice this position (which should honestly be a pretty uncontroversial one imo), you get people shrieking at you about being gatekeep-y and pretentious and betraying the sacred fandom etiquette of Don't-Like-Don't-Read.

And like...listen. I was not raised in a barn. I am 150% capable of quietly back-buttoning out of a fanfic I think is bad or boring - which is exactly what I do when I encounter them - and I am obviously not advocating for stupid ships wars or any kind of harassment or leaving hatemail in people's AO3 inboxes. (Which some people will also accuse you of the second you say anything less than lavishly positive about fandom, in true piss-on-the-poor fashion.) Literally all I am saying is that you can't have your cake and eat it too - that if fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) have artistic merit then fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) are fair game for artistic critique. Which means, in practice, that I can go on my own blog and make a post exactly like this one - critiquing broad trends, or stating that some interpretations are bad actually, or pointing out that subverting or talking back to or reading against the grain of canon is very different from simply ignoring it, or saying "fandom's culture of collage/remix/fuck-canon-I-do-what-I-want can lend itself to to really creative and interesting art but also to a lot of really bland homogenized cut-n-paste art, not to mention some pretty troubling decontextualization." And that if you feel this rains on your personal parade, you are then free to DLDR by back-buttoning out of my blog and/or blocking me so you never have to see my hot takes again, rather than clamoring in my notes about how I should let people enjoy things.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 — 𝐌.𝐒.

SUMMARY ʚɞ Matt wants you to know that you're still his girl.

CW ʚɞ Smut, possessive behavior, creampie, BREEDING KINK, mentions of pregnancy, dirty talk, really dirty smut cuz I'm horny, barely proofread, use of “mama,” mentions of physical alterations, protective mattttt!!!

PAIRING ʚɞ Reader x BABY DADDY ! Matt

A/N: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. All creds to @muwapsturniolo for the baby daddy concept! I needed to write this since I've been binge watching a reality TV show and that pic of Matt??? JDJFHOEIDHKLD

With love and big tits, Rose ➜ navigation

He’s your baby daddy. Nothing more, nothing less—at least that’s what it’s supposed to be like, but it’s just…not. 

“You’re an idiot,” you curse, huffing as you wipe off the blood on his hand. It’s not his blood. Matt’s fine—cocky, even. He’s had a stupid grin etched on his face ever since he showed Bryan not to fuck with his baby mama. It doesn’t matter if you’re together or not, Matt is always protecting you no matter what. 

“Bryan knew what was coming. He’s an idiot—and his stupid wife too.” Matt puffs, licking over the rims of his teeth as he reminisces on the night. You both had the same friend group. Being divorced entailed a lot of cross-over relationships from your married years. 

It was supposed to be civil, just a simple get-together with a bunch of friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. But that didn’t last long. Bryan and his wife, Demi, are fucking cunts. They act like they’re better than everyone constantly and are especially derogatory towards you and Matt. 

Rolling your eyes, you set the damp cloth on the side table of the couch. “Still stupid.” you mention. Matt shrugs, sitting in the sunken cushions, his jaw tightened and nostrils flared as he recalls the utter bullshit that occurred tonight. 

Demi decided to be up front. She asked you in front of a couple other people if you were sleeping with Matt again. Your wide eyes and lack of a response answered the question for you. Matt was livid when he overheard Demi calling you a ‘desperate whore’ who should be more concerned with co-parenting rather than getting fucked. 

And when Bryan flicked the bra strap visible on your shoulder, Matt lost it. 

“You didn’t have to—” Before you can say another word, Matt pulls on your hand, his eyes narrow as he tugs you a little closer. He wants you in his lap. You’ve known him long enough to read his eyes and subtle actions. 

“Matt, we shouldn’t…” His head cocks more to the side, an unentertained expression painted over his face as he just waits. Giving in, you settle on his lap. The hairs on the back of your neck stiffen as you feel him nuzzle his face beneath your ear, his arms swarming around your body as he breathes in your familiar scent. 

“I do have to. You’re still the mother to my child, you’re…you’re important,” he purrs, the tip of his nose running along the rim of your ear as he pulls you even closer, “-wasn’t gonna just let ‘em talk about you like that.”

He means it. With every ounce of his soul, he really fucking means it. You might not exactly be ‘his girl,’ but you’re still his—his to protect, his to defend, his to care for. It’s why he’s settled with your current arrangement. Sleeping together doesn’t help him move on, but it’s not like he was actually trying to ‘move on’ regardless. 

“Matt…” you sigh, your eyes fluttering as you feel his warm lips softly envelope around the pulse point of your neck. He hums against you. The vibration echoes through your body, making you feel everything and more. 

You hate it. This is a feeling only he can bring you. No matter how much time passes, no matter how many other people you try to date…it’s not this—it’s not him. 

The slight scruff of his beard brushes against your collarbone. You shiver as he nibbles down your neck, the air against his wet trail of kisses making your stomach erupt with an electric warmth. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes, panting for air as he tries to stop his hands from wandering. His fingers dig into the top of your thigh and the side of your waist, aching to move and touch you. “-say it.” 

It’s a desperate attempt to contain himself. His desires and his emotions are leaking into the way he grasps onto you, enhancing the passion that seems to make the air thicker—too thick to truly breathe and think clearly enough to remember why this isn’t right. 

“Please.” 

Oh fuck. 

The gentle whisper from your lips makes him lose all restraint. Matt redirects his lips onto yours, consuming you with intimate, sloppy kisses. His hands trace everywhere—up and down your sides, the tops of your thighs, the bottom of your tits…he can’t get enough. 

“Need—” your statement is cut off by a sharp gasp, your mouth falling open as you feel his hard bulge against the burning pressure between your legs. 

“Yeah?” Matt’s panting for air, his face flushed and lips curling with a slight grin as he watches your reaction, “-wan more, mama?” 

God. You feel like you're melting. Every time he touches you, it makes your ears buzz. It’s impossible to think—it’s impossible to concentrate on anything except for him and how he’s devouring you with his mouth and his hands. 

Both of your clothes are peeled off within an instant before Matt’s laying you back down on the couch, hovering over you as he positions his tip against your dripping hole. It shouldn’t feel this easy, but it’s practically routine. He knows exactly how to touch you, he knows how to handle your body and give you what you crave without you even having to say it. 

“You wan it, baby?” he tuts, grinning as you nod dumbly. He nudges just the tip in, concentrating on your face scrunching up and your back arching off the couch. 

You whine after a moment, realizing that’s all he’s giving you. The second you open your eyes to glare at him, he gives you everything—filling you to the brim as his pelvis presses against yours with a soft slap. 

Your widened eyes bring him more pride than he’ll admit. He never gets tired of this—taking you and making you feel so utterly full of him—being overwhelmingly connected. 

“Ma–att,” you moan, your entire body burning as your muscles tense from the shock. Matt coos, petting your cheek, leaning down to replace his fingers with a slight peck. 

The kiss is far more gentle than his next movements. He pulls himself back, making sure to capture your face as he drives himself right back in, slamming your body deeper into the couch cushions. 

Your hands grasp onto his shoulder, a loud moan humming from your mouth as he repeats the actions—fucking himself into you deep and hard. 

Matt laughs as he starts to thrust into you repeatedly. The choked moans and scratches on his shoulders make him feel a certain type of pride that makes everything feel fucking perfect. He has his girl under him—screaming, moaning, and writhing just for him—how it’s supposed to be. 

“Mmmmm, yeah? Feels good, huh?” he taunts, angling himself to hit the perfect spot inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you screech, a tear sliding from the corner of your eyes from the overbearing amounts of pleasure from his harsh movements. You love it. It burns in the best ways—it feels perfect—it feels right. 

“Maybe gonna get you pregnant again, hm? How’s that sound?” he asks, unable to prohibit the dirty thoughts from being announced. His cock twitches just from the thought. You being so full of him is something indescribably intimate—fucking you while you were pregnant with his child is the thought that always runs through his mind when he’s craving you. 

“Please!” 

Oh.

Oh.

Matt didn’t expect you to beg for it. He’s not sure what he was thinking, but your walls begin clenching around his length tight—suffocating his cock as he feels his balls draw up with each thrust becoming sloppier. 

You want it. And that makes it even more perfect. 

“You—fuck, you wan it, baby? Wan be a mama for me again?” he rasps, desperately trying to gnaw on his bottom lip in order to hold himself off. 

“Mhm—I…please! Want it—so bad—please, please, please—oh!” you screech, drool pooling from the side of your mouth as your thigh muscles tighten, your body forcing you to tense and shake as you feel a hot band of euphoria snap in the pit of your gut, the waves impossibly strong as Matt continues to pummel you into the couch. 

“Oh god,” he groans, feeling the familiar sensation of you cumming around his dick. It’s something he’ll never get tired of. He always has to make you finish first, he always has to appreciate the way you milk his cock deep inside of you while shaking beneath him. 

His thrusts slow as warm spurts of his cum spill into your convulsing walls. You gasp for air as he groans into your neck, his body tensing as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you. 

“You’re still my girl, okay?” 

It’s a question—a complicated one at that, but you can’t really argue with his cum spilling out of you—after you begged him to fill you up.

“Your girl,” you affirm, utterly breathless as Matt starts to caress your hair lovingly. 

He lowers himself to lay flat on top of you, careful to distribute his weight so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you in any way. You hiss as he presses his hips further into you, the wet squelch echoing as he repeats the possessive statement; 

“Still my fuckin’ girl.”

[possessionisamyth]

In light of recent events, here are some mantras I think everyone should keep close to their chests.

1) Horrible people are capable of making amazing art.

Morality has no marker on experience and skill level. Only what they produce can, in theory, reveal their inner beliefs.

2) Do not put famous people or anyone on a pedestal.

You can be inspired and touched by what they create. There's no need to raise them to a hero or god like status in your mind. They will be awkward, annoying, and so very human it may lead you to disappointment and sadness when they don't meet the image you made of them in your head.

3) "Separate the art from the artist" rhetoric only works if the artist is dead or can no longer profit from the IP.

Every dollar you give to a franchise with a living bigoted artist is supporting their life style. They still receive that money even if you don't vocally support their beliefs. Please remain aware of where you put your wallet since financial support is still support. Pirate if you're desperate, but do not pretend buying merchandise directly from the store is harmless.

4) Respecting victims should be your priority.

You were not the ones hurt the most by events which occured. Conversation around this topic needs to be tagged appropriately and spoken of with sympathy.

As many people want to claim "they knew there was something fishy about X", it's not about lounging in your self perceived righteousness for not being into the thing. You are neither unique nor special for not getting into a media where the creator was revealed to be harmful. You were just as ignorant as the rest of us, and your bad feeling being validated is about as significant as claiming to sense ghosts in a house full of black mold.

In addition to this, fans of the media should not be taking this time to victimize themselves. Learning information like this so suddenly means we are aware you didn't know. There will not be your imaginary mob coming into your inbox to send you death threats or dox you for having made fan content. Stop acting like self flagellation or taking up arms is the next logical step to defend your interest.

5) You are allowed to be angry and hurt.

It's easy for me to say don't make people your heroes, but I know this isn't a mindset many people adhere too. Especially not people who are looking for footholds to build their skills and find inspiration and connection in the art someone of their similar passion creates. You can sit in your frustration and despair for a little while. Give yourself time to fully process what has occured, and then choose your next course of action. The internet has taught many people to react immediately to everything, but this is not nor has ever been required of you.

✌🏾

[highdramas]

ok but first or second year resident flirting with jack’s wife knowingly or unknowingly that she’s jack’s wife and jack is losing it over the whole thing and keeps giving the newbie death stares from across the room whenever the newbie is near is wife and dana sees this all go down from the nurses station and just prepares for jack to go ape if the newbie crosses a line

rookie mistake | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!wife!reader

warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), jack defends you because you are his lovely wife <3

word count: 1.8k

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. ANON THANK YOUUUU FOR THIS REQUEST <3 i adored this one <3 this is a continuation of ring of fire set in the future, but it's not necessary to read to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find that here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

on monday, you resign yourself to cut the newbie some slack. i mean, alex doesn't know, and if he did, you're almost certain that he would knock that shit off immediately. but... there's a small part of you that finds it a little bit amusing. and maybe you should be good and hold your hand up and say the words that would make any wise man run far, far away: "sorry, kid. you know your attending? yeah, that's my husband."

but that would just be too easy.

tuesday, you're ultimately surprised by the gumption that he has to continue to flirt with you. he says your name like he's purring it, and you can't help but scrunch your nose up slightly, looking up at the board to see where your skills are most needed. the amusement has mostly dissipated, being followed by a certain brand of annoyance that only a twenty five year old boy can draw out of you.

you roll your head to look at your forty nine year old man, coming out of the trauma that had come in thirty minutes ago, only to find that his gaze is already on you. his cheeks are slightly red, hands on his hips, eyebrows screwed up in that way that indicate to you that he's weighing his options about what the best course of action is, here. you wave at him with your fingers, and the new resident, alex, follows your gaze. he gives a big toothy grin to your attending and it takes everything within you to keep your face as neutral as possible. "man, abbot's a cool fuckin' dude," he says under his breath with a truly earnest reverence, and it almost makes you feel bad. almost.

"he's the best of us," you say, and it's entirely truthful. you can tell that jack is still cued in on your conversation. you slide your glance back over to him and wink before you look back to alex.

"yeah." he doesn't take a beat to look back at you with that unbridled hunger that he had been throwing your way through both of the shifts you'd worked together. "so. what're you doing after all of this?"

with raised eyebrows, you shrug your shoulders. "i have an idea or two." he looks just a hair too excited, and your face drops. "not like that. you know, if you want to be a doctor, you do need to actually have an attention for detail." you raise your left hand, revealing the gold band that you wear when you're working. “less flirting. more charting. go.”

when you look over at abbot with a slight exasperation, he just raises one eyebrow at you, and offers a tentative thumbs up– almost a question.

you give him a thumbs up back.

–

the next day, alex was going around to every person that you both worked with, attempting to get intel on you, and your love life.

dana scoffs when she hears the words come out of his mouth. “i mean, he can’t be all that. there’s no way he’s better than me. i was a diver at duke! i had a full ride!” the words are said with such true arrogance that even dana has to laugh.

“oh, kid, if only you knew.” she claps him on the shoulder and points her finger at him. “i’m only gonna tell you this once, alright– after that, you’re on your own. and don’t say i didn’t warn you.” she looks at him down the bridge of his nose– a remarkable feat, considering alex is nearing 6’1. “you don’t want to try your luck. you feel me?”

“but–”

“ah– what did i just say? you don’t want to try your luck. believe me.” she claps that same shoulder again. “and if you do, i knew nothing, and had nothing to do with it.”

you lean against the counter, very obviously eavesdropping, not like you really care– when abbot slides up beside you. he looks over his shoulder at alex, who is, of course, already looking at you. when he meets abbot’s gaze, his eyes go wide and he turns right around, going back to north-11 to finish up with the norovirus patient that jack had put him on. following jack’s line of sight, you can’t help but smirk as you watch alex take in a big gulp of air, slap a mask on, and step into what you’re sure is a hell made entirely of shit and vomit.

“you know,” you say lowly, your elbow brushing jack’s. “that is just mean.”

“all interns get a noro case when they come in,” he says seamlessly, looking between the board and the patient notes that he’s trying to wrap up. “it’s textbook.”

“his first day was three days ago. you usually give it at least a couple of weeks before you start sticking them on noro or food poisoning.”

“not all interns flirt with my wife, relentlessly, in front of me.” jack puts his undivided attention on you.

“oh my god.” you’re smirking. you’re smirking, wide, at your computer. when you look over at jack, you say, “you’re not seriously jealous of the kid?”

“it’s about respect.”

“i don’t think he’s even picked up on us yet. which is hilarious, in and of itself.” you finish up with your chart and put a hand on your hip. “no one’s telling him.”

“he keeps this shit up, he’ll be hearing it from me.”

you hum and pat your hand on his chest. he catches it, his thumb rubbing at the ring you wear. “you’re sexy when you’re jealous,” you say under your breath, close enough to him that you can get away with a little workplace flirting.

“i’m not jealous.”

–

he is jealous.

he’s jealous when he watches this kid– yeah, you may only be five years older than him, but he doesn’t linger on that fact too long– blatantly flirt with you. he gets jealous when alex leans in slightly towards you during shift, just a little too close than is friendly while you review patient notes and ongoing care. but then, he watches you do your little semi-awkward shuffle to the left, and he can’t even help his smirk. and then you look over your shoulder, make this face that says, can you believe this guy? and suddenly, it’s not that he’s jealous. it’s just that he loves you.

but then, on that thursday, alex touches you.

at first, you don’t even notice what he’s done. a little piece of hair has fallen into your eyes out of the tortoiseshell clip that you love so much– the one that jack picked up for you at a cvs because he knows how much you love tortoiseshell. and it’s so faint that you barely even register it. but it doesn’t matter. because you may not have realize, but jack certainly has.

alex’s hand hasn’t even dropped from where he’s tucking that loose piece of hair behind your ear when jack surges up, dana hot on his heels. “woah, woah, woah, let’s all cool it–” dana starts, but it’s no use.

jack puts a firm hand on alex’s shoulder, squeezing tighter than necessary. certainly firm enough to drive home his point. “hey, buddy,” jack says lowly, just enough so that alex can hear him loud and clear, without causing a scene that draws the attention of the entire emergency department. he has that sort of simmering intensity that always makes something swirl in your belly. “look, i’ve tried to be cool, man. i really have. but i’m only going to tell you this one time before i pull in a favor with gloria so that you complete your residency somewhere else. keep those grubby fucking hands off of my wife.”

mortification is an understatement for what you assume alex must be feeling. his face is beet red, eyes darting between you and abbot so fast you’d want to get him in for a head CT if he kept it up any longer. “i– holy shit– i did not know.”

“i know you didn’t,” jack says with a resolute nod. “but now you do. so keep your hands to yourself and we won’t have a problem.” he pats alex’s back once, and you cover your mouth with one hand and peer over at dana with wide eyes. she, can only shrug, roll her eyes, put her readers back on, and turn back to the charge desk. “go get a sandwich from the bin and take ten minutes. go.” 

alex looks at you and you feel bad, almost. you smile at him and say, “next time, if a woman says she’s not interested… take it at face value, before jack abbot has to get involved.”

“yes, ma’am. it will not happen again.” alex gives one last nod to jack, like a nervous teenage boy, before he’s off running towards the staff lounge with his tail between his legs.

jack rubs a hand over his face. you bite down on your lip, look at him, and you start to chuckle. soon, jack’s laugh begins to mix with yours, coalescing until you’re leaning against the charge desk with tears clouding your vision, his dimples fully out and on display.

“man,” he says, shaking his head. “i feel a little bad.” he says, his laughter still holding him by the sleeve, begging to tug him back under.

“you should be. you’re scary,” you say while his thumb catches one of the stray tears on your cheek.

he snorts. “i’m about as scary as a kitten.”

“i dunno. i think our friend would beg to differ.” you lean into him and squeeze his arm before you force yourself to pull away– you like to exude some semblance of professionalism at work. even if the thing you want to do is drag your husband to the on-call room and ravage him for defending your honor.

“yeah, well. guess i reserve it for special circumstances.” he crosses his broad arms over his chest and looks you, up and down. they land on your face and soften. “i love you, kid.” the way he calls you kid, versus alex, makes your chest squeeze. an old habit from your residency, a reminder of where you were and how far you've come now.

the fondness that you feel for him never gets smaller. the longer you've been with him, from that time where you were his resident, smoking weed on his living room floor and wondering if there was a world where this could all work... the thing that always remained true and steady was how much you liked jack. right down to his bones, you liked him.

how can you capture that all in a sentence?

you don't know. but you settle on, "i love you," emphasis on the most important word there is.

[mssishipi]

devil in disguise — sjy

— anon asked: infidelity with jake would go crazy bro like he’d be saying “you’re so disgusting” and it’s true it disgusts him how his bestfriend’s pussy milks his cock

warning: cheating, jake is an asshole, explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, degradation. MDNI.

It was almost laughable—how you always clung to Jake's side, no matter what he did, no matter how much trouble he got himself into. It was as if loyalty blinded you, shielding you from the truth everyone else could see so clearly.

You were an angel, the one his parents adored, the soft-hearted girl who couldn't even bring herself to harm a fly.

Polite, gentle, the kind of person who would apologize even when someone else stepped on your foot.

It was hilarious how you always had an excuse for him, always a justification on the tip of your tongue every time he do something.

Like that time when he got into a fight because of some fraternity nonsense. His parents had been furious.

And yet, there you were, standing in front of them, your eyes wide, your voice trembling with conviction.

"Jake defended me!"

Except that was a lie.

Jake hadn't been defending you. He don't care. The guy had simply pissed him off. He always did. It had nothing to do with you, but you refused to see that. Maybe it was easier that way—to pretend Jake had some noble reason, that his fists weren't just another weapon he wielded whenever he felt like it.

It was almost amusing—the way you always listened to him, how you followed him around ever since the two of you were kids.

You were the kind of best friend who never strayed too far, always orbiting around him, always there. He wasn't sure if he should find it endearing or just plain irritating. Maybe a bit of both.

He could do the most questionable things, and without fail, you'd always have his back.

"Thank you, Jaeyun-ah! You know I don't like Jungwon—he's always ranked first. He deserves to be caught cheating."

You grinned at him, clutching your notebook to your chest as if he had done you some great favor. But Jake hadn't done it for you. He hadn't even thought of you when he slipped that answer key into Jungwon's bag. He was just bored, looking for something to break the monotony. Watching the teachers drag Jungwon to the disciplinary office had simply been an added bonus.

"It's okay, Jaeyun-ah! What you're feeling is valid. I'm sure Yuta deserved that punch—he's a creep."

You had been so quick to reassure him. But Yuta wasn't a creep. Jake had made that up on a whim, an excuse to put the guy in his place, to see him crumble. Because he was bored.

It was almost amusing—how you, of all people, always knew the difference between right and wrong. You were kind, the type to preach fairness, to stand up for what was just.

And yet, when it came to him, all of that fell apart. You always had an excuse, always a justification ready on your lips, as if his actions existed outside the rules that applied to everyone else.

Sim Jaeyun had you wrapped around his finger so effortlessly, it was pathetic.

And honestly, it was disgusting.

"Jaeyun-ah!" you squealed, your voice breaking into a moan as your fingers dug into his back, clinging to him. Your breath hitching as he hit that spot over and over again.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. His phone buzzed relentlessly on the bedside table, the screen flashing with his girlfriend's name. Over and over, the call came, the shrill ring cutting through the muffled sound of skin slapping against skin. But neither of you moved. Neither of you cared.

It was disgusting—how easily you spread your legs for him, how willingly you became his escape whenever she couldn't satisfy him. You never hesitated, never even flinched when he came to you, already knowing what he wanted.

He still loved his girlfriend. With everything he had. But she could never give him the kind of mind-numbing, toe-curling release that you did.

"It's in a man's nature, Jaeyun-ah," you had whispered to him once, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over his bare chest, your body still warm from the aftermath of what you had just done. Your voice always had been soft and sweet. "Men have needs. It's only natural to seek satisfaction elsewhere when she can't give you what you want."

Jake remembered those words vividly, the way you had said them with such certainty, as if you truly believed them. As if your presence in his bed, tangled in his sheets, was anything but a betrayal.

"Maybe it's even her fault," you had added, tilting your head to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "She should know better. She should do better. If she really loved you, wouldn't she try harder to make you happy?"

Your justifications were always so effortless, so convincing. You never made him feel guilty, never accused him of being selfish or cruel. Instead, you framed it like you were the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could give him what he needed without judgment.

It was painfully obvious that you were in love with him.

And it disgusted him.

Every longing glance, every adoring smile, every saccharine word that spilled from your lips—it all made his skin crawl.

Yet, despite the repulsion twisting in his gut, he kept coming back. Again and again. Because at the end of the day, you were the only one who truly understood him. The only one who never judged, never asked for more than he was willing to give.

"I said don't give me marks!" Jake growled as he grabbed your wrists, prying your hands off his back where your nails had been sinking into his skin.

Without giving you a chance to react, he shoved you down, caging you beneath him. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, trapping your limbs against your sides as his weight pressed into you. His knees planted firmly on either side of your thighs, bracing himself as he drove deeper, making you take every inch of him.

The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your ragged breaths mixing with his.

And despite the way he loathed the way you looked at him, despite how much your affection disgusted him—he still couldn't stop.

"You love fucking like this?" Jake growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he drove into you with unrelenting force.

"Yes! Fuck, I love your cock inside me, Jaeyun-ah! Fuck me harder!" you sobbed, your voice breaking with each thrust. Your mind was drowning in the pleasure he ruthlessly forced upon you.

Jake exhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms tightened around you, locking you in place beneath him. He didn't give you a second to breathe, because your body was nothing more than a means to chase his own satisfaction.

Jake groaned as he felt you clench around him, your walls tightening, desperately trying to keep him buried deep. The way your body surrendered so easily, so pathetically. It was hilarious, how little self-control you had when it came to him.

"You fucking disgust me," he sneered. His thrusts never slowed as he tilted his head slightly, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure, eyes glazed over, lips parted as broken moans spilled from your throat.

"Getting off on your best friend’s cock? That’s just pathetic."

You shook your head wildly, fingers clawing at his back, legs trembling around his waist. "I don’t care!" you gasped, "just want you, Jaeyun-ah! Just want your cock—please!"

Jake let out a breathy chuckle, "Of course, you don’t," he muttered. His teeth grazed your shoulder before he bit down, hard, marking you. Your body jerked beneath him, a sharp whimper escaping your lips as he tightened his grip on your waist, pressing you impossibly closer, molding you against him like you were made to take him.

Your tongue traced the ridges of his collarbone, wet and hot, leaving a trail of saliva as if you wanted to claim him just as much. Jake hissed, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his pace turning brutal. His name tore from your lips in screams, your body writhing, thrashing, but his arms locked around you, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

And then, without warning, your orgasm crashed over you—sudden, violent, leaving you gasping, eyes rolling back as your body went rigid beneath him. No slow build-up, no warning. Just raw, overwhelming pleasure that left you completely undone.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through you, leaving your body trembling beneath him, Jake didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you through it, dragging out every last bit of your high until you were left whimpering, overstimulated, body twitching against his pace.

"Look at you," he scoffed as he watched your fucked-out expression. "Completely ruined over your best friend’s cock. What would your parents think if they saw you like this?"

Your lips parted, but only breathless moans escaped.

Jake chuckled darkly, his pace faltering just long enough for him to grab your chin, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. "And what about my girlfriend?"  he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. "She has no idea you’re spreading your legs for me every time she turns her back. That you’re nothing but a cheap fuck whenever she can’t satisfy me."

For a split second, he saw that pathetic flicker of sadness in your gaze. But Jake didn’t care.

Because he knew you. Knew the way you worked. No matter how much he degraded you, no matter how cruel his words got, you would always come crawling back. Always.

Because that’s who you were.

Jake pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His hands were rough, impatient, as he flipped you over, manhandling you into the position he wanted. You barely had a moment to react before he shoved your face down against the mattress, pressing hard against the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

"Stay still," he muttered, his other hand gripping your hip, lifting your ass high in the air.

You barely had time to process the shift before the sharp buzz of his phone filled the room again, the sound coming from the bedside table. His jaw ticked in irritation, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he lined himself up with your entrance, cursing under his breath.

Then, without warning, he thrust back inside.

Another scream tore from your lips, your fingers scrambling against the sheets, trying to ground yourself as the force of his movements sent shocks of pleasure and pain coursing through you. Your walls fluttered around him instinctively, struggling to adjust to the new angle, but he didn’t slow down.

"Tighten up," Jake growled. "Feels like I’m just fucking my fist."

You clenched around him immediately, an attempt to please him, but the effort only made your body tremble harder. Your vision blurred as fresh tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks, soaking into the sheets beneath you.

Jake noticed. His fingers tangled into your hair, yanking your head up, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glassy, lips trembling, breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

"Aww," Jake cooed mockingly, tilting his head as his grip on your hair tightened. His fingers twisted cruelly in the strands, yanking your head back until your neck arched, forcing your tear-streaked face into view. "Is my sweet angel hurt?"

You sniffled, trying to steady your breath, but the way he kept thrusting into you made it impossible to think, let alone speak. Your fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles turning white as your body rocked in time with his brutal pace.

And then you smiled—soft, sweet, broken. The kind of expression you knew would make something dark flicker in his eyes.

"I don't care, Jaeyun-ah," you whispered, your gaze met his, unwavering despite the tears threatening to spill. "That's my purpose, right?"

His reaction was instant. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and without hesitation, he shoved you back down, pressing your face into the mattress. The force knocked the air from your lungs, but you still moaned.

Jake cursed under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turned erratic. You could feel it—the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breath grew uneven, muscles tensing. He was close.

"Fuck, I trained my angel so well," he grunted, punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your ass. The impact stung, a sharp burst of pain that made you whimper. His moans were growing louder, more desperate, the telltale signs of his impending climax.

"That's right, Jake!" you cried out, voice breaking. "Make yourself cum in me—your fucking boring girlfriend could never!"

The second those words left your lips, his hand shot forward, slapping over your mouth and muffling your moans.

"Shut the fuck up," Jake growled. His other hand dug into your hip, his grip so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. "You don’t get to talk about her. Don’t fucking ruin my orgasm by running that filthy mouth of yours."

A sharp, burning twist coiled in your chest at his words. But at the same time, the thick drag of his cock against your cervix make your walls clamped down around him, squeezing so tight it forced a strangled moan from his throat.

"Fuck—" Jake groaned, his head falling forward against your back, breath ragged, body tensed as his thrusts turned erratic. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you locked in place as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum, angel."

A strangled sound tore from his throat, his grip bruising as he drove himself deep one last time. And then, with a low, guttural moan, he spilled inside you.

The heat of it, the way he pulsed and twitched against your walls, sent you spiraling instantly. Your orgasm hit violent, all-consuming, crashing through you with no mercy. Euphoria flooded every nerve, burning through your veins, leaving you boneless beneath him.

You gasped, lips parted in a silent cry, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked through you. It felt endless, like falling through space with no ground to catch you, no way to stop.

Jake groaned again, feeling the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, milking every last drop from his spent cock. He twitched, giving a few more lazy thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you, pushing past the oversensitivity that made your thighs shake and your breath stutter.

Slowly, his pace lost momentum, his thrusts turning shallow, sluggish, until finally, he stilled. His weight pressed against you as he exhaled heavily, letting the last remnants of pleasure fade into exhaustion.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the sweat cooling on your flushed skin, the lingering heat of what you’d just done.

And then, as the high began to ebb, as the last shocks of pleasure melted into nothingness, the emptiness settled in.

A hollow ache replaced the euphoria, leaving you nothing more than a trembling, used mess sprawled out beneath him.

Jake let out a slow, heavy breath as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his body still humming with the remnants of release. The warmth of you still clung to his skin, but he didn’t spare you a glance as he pulled out, leaving a mess between your trembling thighs.

Grabbing his phone from your bedside table, he stared at the screen, scrolled through the flood of missed calls and unread messages. The screen illuminated his face, jaw tightening slightly before he sighed, thumbs moving quickly to type a response.

Your gaze followed him, watching as he moved around the room without hesitation. He didn’t look at you—not even once—as he grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor, slipping his jeans back on, adjusting his belt with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

The scent of sex still clung to his skin, and he knew it. Without pause, he reached for the bottle of cologne he always carried, spritzing it over himself, masking the evidence of what had just happened between you.

You were still sprawled out on the bed, your chest pressed against the damp sheets, your body aching, marked, used. 

"I gotta get home before she starts getting suspicious," Jake muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

But before leaving, he paused at the door, casting a dark stare over his shoulder. His expression hardened, his voice colder.

"Shut your mouth. You already know that, don’t you?"

You swallowed thickly, throat tightening as you forced a small, obedient "Yes."

For a moment, there was nothing. Just silence stretching between the two of you, thick and suffocating. Then, as if flipping a switch, Jake’s entire demeanor shifted. A slow, sickeningly sweet smile spread across his lips as he turned back toward you.

Walking over, he crouched slightly to meet your tired gaze, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. The gesture was soft—mockingly so.

"See you next time, angel. Don’t do something stupid, hmm?" His voice was gentle, almost affectionate, like he actually cared.

And like the fool you were, you smiled at him, nodding eagerly despite the rawness in your throat, despite the soreness in your body.

Jake exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as he watched you. "My good girl."

Leaning in once more, he pecked your lips, his touch featherlight, almost tender. But beneath it, there was nothing. No warmth, no real emotion. Just obligation.

It was a role he played, a meaningless act that kept you tethered to him. And seeing you smile so sweetly, so utterly oblivious—it made his stomach twist with something akin to revulsion.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Jake let out a slow, irritated breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off something unpleasant.

Without sparing a second thought, he pulled out his phone, thumbs scrolling through his girlfriend’s messages.

You had always stood by Sim Jaeyun’s side—through every mistake, every decision, every selfish impulse. You defended him when no one else would, gave him everything without hesitation. It didn’t matter what he did; you always understood, always forgave, always stayed.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging so deep into the fabric they nearly tore through it. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

You stared at the door he had just walked out of, the one he never even bothered to look back at.

You let a quiet breathy laugh—before it bubbled up into hysterical and unhinged. Tears streamed freely down your face.

"His angel, my ass."

The words dripped from your tongue. a wicked little smile curling on your lips.

You had always been there for him. Always the loyal one. Always the perfect, obedient little toy he could use and toss aside when it was convenient. You had let him take and take and take.

Your gaze flickered to the ceiling, to the tiny red light blinking faintly in the dark.

You were his angel, after all. His good girl. So predictable, so harmless.

How cute.

You tilted your head as your nails dragged lazily across your own thigh, smearing the mess he left behind.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Because, Sim Jaeyun did not, in fact, train his angel well.

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you singing your heart out to a BREAK UP (RAGE) SONG!

Sometimes you can be in a happy and healthy relationship but damn those break up songs are just so good.. you know!? How would the boys react to finding you singing your heart out to the lyrics? 🎤

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb

Sylus

Just watch as I crucify myself for some weird second string loser who's not worth mentioning! My God, love's embarrassing as hell! (Love Is Embarrassing - Olivia Rodrigo)

You and the twins and Mephi are jamming to the song singing along to it and having a little dance party.

"Sweetie...?" "Oh hi, Sy!" "What is happening here?"

The twins keep trying to scare him into thinking you're actually mad at him, when he finally clarified everything with you, the twins.. well, good luck for them. (Dw you will defend your boys so they won't face harsher punishment)

Xavier

If that was casual then I'm an idiot, I'm looking for an answer in between the lines, lying to yourself if you think we're fine. You're confused and I'm upset but we never talk about it.. (Sharpest Tool - Sabrina Carpenter)

You and Xavier were out with your work friends, you guys went to a karaoke bar. You were tipsy when Tara hands you a mic and tell you to sing so you just chose the song you currently like!

Xavier was silent the whole time you were on the mini stage, this happened before, you were tipsy and he picked you up from a bar and you told him how he makes you question everything.. (Xavier's Close Feelings tender moments)

But as you come down you gave him a little hug and smile and he gets reminded that it was in the past, way in the beginning of your relationship. Now, it's simply just a song you like. :)

Rafayel

Shout out to my ex, you're really quite the man. You made my heart break and that made me who I am! (Shout Out To My Ex - Little Mix)

He was in one of his boring and long meeting when he scrolled on his phone and see the video on your moment post.

He suddenly left without saying a word and rushed to you.

Called you, screaming and (crying) "HELLO? LAST TIME I CHECKED WE WERE STILL IN A HAPPY RELATIONSHIP!? I LEAVE FOR AN HOUR AND I'M YOUR EX NOW???"

Zayne

Is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together, so I can love you? Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything? Or do you just not want to? (Renegade - Big Red Machine, Taylor Swift)

When he heard you singing it his heart sank. What is happening. Why did you suddenly sing that? Did you relate to it? Did you feel that way about him? Did he make you feel that way?

He wanted to talk about it but he was scared of your answer. You weren't wrong. But you weren't right either. It was not anxiety that's stopping him from giving you everything...

He tried to show his affections in words and actions even more the next day and you were so confused, you ask him why and he explained that he's trying to be a better boyfriend, but you tell him he's been the best even before he tried to be more!

(I'm so sorry Zayne girlies the hurt/comfort just felt right here)

Caleb

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there? Feeling so high but too far away to hold me? You know I'm the one who put you up there. Name in the sky, does it ever get lonely? Thinking you could live without me! (Without Me - Halsey)

He saw you singing your heart out during a karaoke on your friends' moment post.

"Sorry, have I been away too much? I should fly back and see you more often, I'm so sorry, honey..."

Drowns you in gifts and of course that forgiveness for Caleb coupon is gonna come out too. You were so confused as to why your boyfriend is acting this way.

[flwrkid14]

Everyone Knows They’re Dating… Except Tim and Danny

To literally everyone, Tim and Danny are a couple. They’re so obvious about it, it’s almost annoying. Tim goes out of his way to prioritize Danny over anyone else—he’ll cancel plans, rearrange his schedule, and bend over backward to make sure Danny’s happy. Need coffee at 3 a.m.? Tim’s already out the door. A custom gadget? It’s in Danny’s hands before he even asks.

And Danny? Danny dotes on Tim in a way that’s almost overprotective. He ensures Tim eats, sleeps, and doesn’t completely drown himself in work. He’s always there, watching out for him, ready to step in if Tim ever needs help. And god help anyone who says a single bad word about Tim because Danny will defend him with a ferocity that borders on terrifying.

They live together. They cuddle to sleep. They share a bed. They have dinners together like it’s some weekly tradition. They wear each other’s clothes so often no one can tell whose hoodie is whose anymore. Sometimes they even plan matching outfits when they go out. Their “hangouts” are way too romantic and way too specific to not count as dates.

It’s obvious to everyone that Tim and Danny are dating. Everyone… except Tim and Danny.

The breaking point happens when Danny starts spending time with a new friend. Tim doesn’t even notice at first, but slowly, irritation starts bubbling under the surface. Why does Danny even need new friends? Doesn’t he already have Tim? And then the irritation morphs into a tight knot in his chest every time Danny talks about hanging out with this friend.

At first, Tim tells himself he’s just being logical—Danny is busy enough as it is, why stretch himself thinner? But when Danny cancels one of their movie nights to go out with this new friend, Tim spirals. He’s glued to his laptop but hasn’t typed anything in over an hour, too consumed with thoughts like: Is Danny replacing me? Am I not enough for him? Does he want someone else to be his best friend now?

He’s never been good at handling emotions, so naturally, he decides the best course of action is to bottle it all up and ignore it. That is until Steph shows up and immediately clocks that something’s wrong.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, slumping onto his couch.

“I’m not grumpy,” Tim lies, glaring at his laptop like it’s offended him personally.

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Right. So why are you moping like someone kicked your dog?”

“I’m not moping,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

Steph stares at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she pieces it together. She knows Danny’s out with some new friend, and now she’s looking at Tim, who’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal, glaring at his phone every few seconds. Her expression shifts—realization dawning, then sharp focus. “Oh my god, Tim. You’re jealous.”

Tim freezes. “What? No, I’m not. That’s ridiculous.”

Steph crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Tim as if he’s the most complicated puzzle she’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, let’s break this down,” she starts, her tone deliberate. “You’re upset that Danny’s out with someone else. You’re overthinking it, spiraling about whether or not you’re enough, and now you’re convinced you’ve somehow ruined everything… Does that sound like just ‘friend’ feelings to you?”

Tim freezes mid-pace, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “I—what?”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Tim. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—” Tim begins, but then stops, the denial catching in his throat. His brain scrambles to process her words, but the sinking feeling in his chest refuses to let him dismiss it. The pieces fall into place, one by one, each memory sharper than the last: the way his heart always lifts when Danny smiles, the quiet warmth of falling asleep next to him, the ache in his chest at the thought of Danny choosing someone else.

“Oh no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Oh my god. I’m jealous because—because I’m—”

Steph sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re jealous because you’re in love with Danny.”

Tim’s knees almost give out as the realization settles in. “I’m the worst friend in the world,” he blurts, his voice breaking. Tears spring to his eyes as he starts pacing again, his hands flying up in a panicked gesture. “I have no right to feel this way! He’s my best friend—he deserves someone better, someone who won’t ruin his life with… with whatever this is!”

Steph groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Tim, for the love of—you're already dating.”

He stops dead in his tracks, blinking at her like she’s just spoken another language. “What?”

“Seriously? You’re basically married,” Steph says, throwing her hands up. “He practically lives here, you do everything together, and you’re constantly rearranging your life for him. What part of that screams just friends to you?”

Tim’s mouth opens, then closes, his mind spinning as he replays every moment with Danny through a new lens. The quiet mornings when they share coffee in companionable silence. The way Danny always notices when he’s stressed and pulls him into a hug without a word. How being with Danny feels like breathing—natural, essential, like coming home.

And it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with Danny.

The realization is overwhelming, a mix of panic and joy and sheer terror. But beneath all that, there’s something else—a quiet certainty. He doesn’t just love Danny; he’s in love with him, and he doesn’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.

Tim decides, then and there, that he has to confess. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that Danny feels the same, he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers. And if he doesn’t… well, there’s always Antarctica.

When Tim finally confesses, he pours his heart out in a way that’s so painfully earnest it makes Danny laugh.

“Tim,” Danny says, tears of laughter in his eyes, “I thought we were already dating.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

Danny grins. “Yeah, I kind of assumed we were. I mean, we live together. We share a bed. We cuddle. We’ve been wearing matching outfits for months, dude.”

“Oh.” Tim feels his face heat up.

Danny laughs again, pulling Tim into a hug. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Tim buries his face in Danny’s shoulder, equal parts mortified and relieved. But hey, at least now they’re officially dating—or, well, aware of it.

Steph hears the whole story later and immediately texts them both: “Congrats on being the last ones to figure it out. True geniuses at work.”

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : light angst, shouting, reader stands up for bucky, kinda open-ended summary : bucky feels weird things in his stomach whenever he thinks about you, he’s convinced he’s getting sick wc : 1.7k a/n : part two here

the avengers tower was a hive of activity. agents scurried in and out, stark’s gadgets beeped incessantly, and the hum of conversations filled the hallways. amidst the chaos, you’d carved out your own little routine - something steady to hold onto in a world that rarely stopped moving. and then there was bucky barnes. he was the quiet one, always on the edges of the action, as though he wasn’t sure where he fit in. you’d noticed him almost immediately when you moved in, not because he tried to stand out, but because he did the opposite.

every morning, he’d shuffle into the kitchen, head down, hair slightly messy from sleep. you’d offer him a soft “good morning,” trying not to sound too eager, and he’d nod or mumble something before retreating to the solitude of the gym or his room. his shyness only made you want to know him more. there was a depth to him, layers you were dying to peel back, but he seemed content - or maybe resigned - to keeping everyone at arm’s length.

still, you didn’t give up. you tried in small ways: leaving him a cup of coffee when you knew he’d be up early, asking if he’d want to join for movie nights, even offering him a quiet corner during team meetings when things got too loud. his answers were always polite but distant. it wasn’t rejection, not really, but it still left you wondering if you’d ever get through to him.

then came the day you overheard something that made your blood boil.

it happened in the common room. you’d been looking for a misplaced file when you caught snippets of a conversation between two junior agents. at first, you thought nothing of it - just the usual chatter that filled the tower. but then you heard bucky’s name, and your attention snapped to them like a rubber band.

“he’s just so… weird,” one of them said, his tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, come on, we’re supposed to trust him? after everything he’s done?”

“seriously,” the other agreed. “it’s like walking on eggshells around him. guy barely talks, and when he does, it’s just… creepy. i don’t know why they keep him around.”

rage bubbled up in your chest, hot and immediate. before you could stop yourself, you stepped into the room, your voice cutting through their laughter like a knife. “who do you think you are?”

the agents froze, their faces draining of color as they realized you’d been listening. one of them tried to stammer an excuse, but you weren’t having it.

“no, i want to know,” you said, your voice steady but sharp. “what gives you the right to talk about him like that? do you have any idea what he’s been through? what he’s overcome? or do you just like tearing people down because it makes you feel better about yourselves?”

they exchanged nervous glances, clearly searching for an exit, but you weren’t finished.

“bucky barnes has more strength in his pinky finger than you’ll ever have in your entire life. and if i hear either of you - either of you - say one more word about him, you’ll be reassigned so fast you won’t have time to pack your desks. understood?”

they mumbled something that sounded like agreement before bolting from the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding from the adrenaline.

unbeknownst to you, bucky had been standing just around the corner.

he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. he’d been on his way to the common room to grab a bottle of water when he heard your voice. at first, he’d thought you were just talking to someone, but as the words sank in, he realized you were defending him. you were angry - no, furious - on his behalf, and it left him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

no one had ever done that for him before.

days later, the memory still lingered. he couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, fire in your eyes, your voice unwavering. it was as though you’d burned yourself into his mind, and every time he thought about it, his chest tightened. it wasn’t just what you’d said; it was the way you’d said it, with so much conviction it made him feel… something he couldn’t quite name.

that night, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. his heart raced, his palms were clammy, and his stomach churned in a way that felt almost… pleasant? but also deeply unsettling. was he getting sick? that seemed impossible - the serum made sure of that. yet the symptoms were undeniable. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, heard your voice, and felt that strange, fluttering sensation in his chest.

by the next morning, he was convinced something was seriously wrong.

bucky had never been one to dwell on his feelings. survival, duty, and regret had occupied most of his thoughts for as long as he could remember. but now, as he sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor, he couldn’t ignore the storm swirling inside him. he felt… strange. his chest was tight, his thoughts were scattered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment he overheard you in the common room.

he should’ve stepped in, said something to those agents himself, but instead, he’d stood there like a coward while you defended him. the memory of your voice, sharp with anger, made his palms sweat. no one had ever spoken up for him like that. people either feared him or avoided him altogether. but you - you’d stood there, unwavering, because you believed he was worth it. the thought made his heart race in a way that felt entirely too unfamiliar.

it had to be some kind of illness, right? he couldn’t be sick - the serum wouldn’t allow it - but what else could explain the way his stomach flipped whenever you were around? or the way his hands fidgeted nervously whenever you said his name? bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. this was ridiculous. he needed answers.

and so, he turned to the only person he trusted to give him the truth.

“steve, something’s wrong with me,” bucky blurted out later that day. they were in the gym, steve halfway through a set of push-ups when bucky’s words made him pause mid-rep.

“wrong?” steve asked, pushing himself to his feet. “what do you mean?”

bucky hesitated, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s… i don’t know. i’ve been feeling weird lately. my heart’s racing, i can’t think straight, and every time i see - ” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “never mind. forget it.”

steve’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

bucky’s jaw tightened. “what? no. that’s not… that’s not it.”

“sure, buck,” steve said, his tone teasing. “you’re probably just coming down with something.”

bucky narrowed his eyes. “serum, remember? i don’t get sick.”

steve’s smile widened. “exactly.”

bucky scowled, realizing too late that steve wasn’t going to be any help. he mumbled a quick excuse and left, his frustration mounting. if steve wasn’t going to take him seriously, he’d just have to figure this out himself.

next on his list was sam. surely sam would have a straight answer for him.

“ you’re not dying, man,” sam said after bucky cornered him in the kitchen. “although, judging by the way you’re acting, you’d think the world was ending.”

bucky frowned. “i’m not acting any way.”

sam raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. look, maybe you just need to… i don’t know, talk to someone about it. someone who isn’t me.”

bucky groaned. “you’re no help.”

“at least i’m honest,” sam shot back, smirking as he left bucky alone with his thoughts.

it wasn’t until later that night, during a rare moment of quiet, that bucky found himself seeking out natasha. if anyone could give him a straight answer, it was her. she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through a book, when he approached.

“can i ask you something?” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

natasha glanced up, her expression unreadable. “always.”

bucky shifted awkwardly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “if… hypothetically… someone couldn’t stop thinking about another person, and it made them feel all… weird inside, what would you call that?”

natasha’s lips twitched, and for a moment, bucky thought she might laugh. but instead, she closed her book and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “weird how?”

bucky struggled to find the words. “just… weird. like, heart-racing, can’t-think-straight, stomach-doing-flips kind of weird.”

natasha studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. “sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

bucky blinked. “got what?”

she smirked. “you’ll figure it out.”

and just like that, she returned to her book, leaving bucky more confused than ever.

over the next few days, bucky’s “symptoms” only seemed to worsen. he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. the way you smiled, the sound of your laugh, even the little things you did - like leaving a cup of coffee on the counter for him - made his chest ache in the best possible way. it was maddening.

finally, in a last-ditch effort to make sense of what was happening, he sought out wanda. if anyone could give him clarity, it was her.

wanda listened patiently as bucky explained his predicament, her expression calm and composed. when he finished, she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“bucky,” she said gently, “you’re not sick.”

he frowned. “but - ”

“you’ve got a crush,” she said simply.

bucky’s heart stopped. “a crush?”

wanda nodded. “yes. and from the sound of it, it’s about time you did something about it.”

bucky stared at her, his mind racing. the idea felt foreign, almost impossible. but as he thought about you - the way you’d stood up for him, the way you’d always looked and spoken to him with so much warmth and understanding - he realized wanda was right.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[awriterinthenight]

"And How Would You Like to Kiss a Smart Guy?"-Fred Weasley

requested: no

words: 1840

warnings: Molly complaining about the twins, reader is a Gryffindor and Sirius' daughter, also implied that reader is shorter to Fred

summary: When Molly complains about the twins, you defend then, especially Fred, leading to Sirius having old memories of Lily and James.

You could hear Molly Weasley yelling about something in the kitchen as you approached the door. Recently you, Harry, Hermione, and all the Weasley kids had been living in 12 Grimmauld Place, which is technically your family's house. Your dad had been hiding out there, and you had started living with him to make up for all the time lost while he was in Azkaban.

Grimmauld Place was starting to become your home and even feel like it. Ever since your Hogwarts letter came, the school has only ever felt like your real home. Many of your friendships were made there, your relationships all started there, and almost every happy memory was made at Hogwarts.

It was the place where you met Ron and Hermione on the train to Hogwarts. Then when you got sorted into Gryffindor you met Oliver Wood who was the Quidditch captain, and you became quick friends with him, due to you and Harry being on the team so young. It was also the place where you met the Weasley twins.

Ron had told you all about his oldest brother Bill, who now worked all the way in Egypt, and his other older brother Charlie who was a dragon tamer in Romania. Then he complained about how uptight Percy was. When he got to the twins it was a mix of funny stories and some humiliating ones for Ron.

"Oy, you're going to talk her ear off if you keep telling her about us," a voice yelled out. It was Fred Weasley. He was making his way over to where you and Ron were talking in the common room.

"Yeah, you're also not even telling her the truth," the other twin said, following behind Fred.

Fred came up behind you in the chair you were sitting in, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bending down a bit so that he could whisper something to you, "We're a lot funnier than that, and way better at pranks than he's making it out to be."

"Uh huh," you said, acting skeptical, "If you say so."

Him and George looked hurt at your words.

"If you say so," George yelled loudly, clutching his chest, "Do you hear this blasphemy?" he said to Fred.

Fred removed his arm from around your shoulders, "Oh, I do, and believe me I cannot stand for this. We didn't get detention for a month to be insulted like this. Now did we?"

You rolled your eyes, as Ron looked bored from having seen this act before, "Don't you two have anything better to do than bother some first years?"

"Well when you insult a man's pranks, one feels rather hurt," Fred said, continuing his dramatic act.

You looked him up and down before you said, "What man? All I see are two cocky gits."

They looked even more insulted, but once again Fred spoke first, "And she's got a sharp tongue. It seems we have our work cut out for us."

"That we do, dear brother," George said to his twin.

"You know what I think we need to do?"

"Of course I do, now off we go," George said before walking away with his twin in tow. That moment was the reason for the twins' further actions towards you. Wherever you went the twins would always do some prank near you to make you laugh. Fred started to take pride in knowing one of his jokes made you laugh, even if it was barely a chuckle or a smile.

The boys did everything they could to get you to crack. Slowly it became their favorite past time, especially for one twin. During 4th year something started to shift in how Fred saw you. You were no longer just his little brother's friend, but you were his too. Except he started to wish you were more.

He watched you get prettier over the years, to the point he caught himself staring a couple of times. Fred loved the banter between the two of you, you always had some sort of retort to everything. You still called his pranks "silly" or sometimes "immature" but that was only when it went wrong. He still did his dramatic act everything you said that, but now it was because he just liked having your attention all on him.

Fred's crush on you wasn't entirely unrequited though. You started to fall for him too. You didn't know if it was because of his charm, or the banter that was the closest you would get to flirting, or even just the way he looked. He was always looking down at you, having to lean in a little closer to hear you since he was so tall.

Being at Grimmauld Place was no different to being at Hogwarts with the way the twins, especially Fred, acted. They still pulled pranks and Fred still had his banter with you. Which was exactly what Mrs. Weasley was yelling and complaining about.

You'd walk in to make tea and grab a biscuit when you heard, "And they're always up to something. I can't with those two, one of these days they are going to have to grow out of these pranks and jokes," Molly complained, while cleaning the table.

"Hey, me and James were the same way, and look how we turned out," Sirius said, but Molly just gave him a look, "Alright, maybe not the best example, but look at Remus. He was part of our pranks, and he ended up teaching at Hogwarts."

Remus had now butted into the conversation, "I did end up having to leave due to my furry little problem, though I did enjoy some of their mischief, Molly," he defended, taking a sip of his tea.

"They don't even study. How will they get anywhere if they don't focus on school. For once I wish they would focus on their classes instead of some dumb prank or useless product," Molly continued on.

You'd been at the counter, letting your tea bag sit in your tea, as you listened to Molly rant. At some point you let out an eye roll and huff that did not go unnoticed. Your dad and uncle seemed to pick up on your small gestures.

"You seem to have some thoughts on this matter, why don't you share them with us," Sirius teased, sitting at the dinner table, leaning back in his chair.

You shrugged, annoyed you were being put on the spot, "I have nothing to say really."

"Oh come on, you go to school with them, you must have something to say," Remus interjected, picking up on what Sirius was doing.

Before you could respond, Molly spoke up before you, "It's alright dear, I know everyone is probably annoyed by their childish pranks."

You rolled your eyes again, this time deciding to defend the twins, "They're actually not that childish. They're pretty impressive if anything."

"Oh really? And what makes you say that?" Remus questioned, leaning against the counter.

"They've pulled off really complicated charms before actually," you started, "And they're both really smart, especially Fred. I once watched him pull off a charm during my first year, that not even seventh years could pull off. Whenever they come up with some new product Fred always shows it to me and explains it, and its always bloody genius. I don't think I've seen him come up with an idea that hasn't worked. I think if he did try to study he could be top of his class, especially in charms. He could probably give Hermione a run for her money if he cared enough. I don't see why everyone demeans his pranks so often. He's a bit of a genius when it comes to them," you explained, not realizing when your defense for the twins turned into you rambling on about how smart Fred was.

You turned around to face the three adults who all had a smile on their face, yet also seemed a bit shocked. Sirius started to massage his temples, quietly repeating "not again, not again," which you didn't understand why. While Mrs. Weasley had a knowing smile as she continued cleaning, not saying a word. Finally you turned to Remus, who was shaking his head at Sirius.

"What?" you exclaimed, confused as to why they were acting like this, "What's wrong with him? Why does he keep repeating that?" you asked Remus.

Remus took in a long deep breath before saying, "Because, about 17, maybe 18 years ago, Lily Potter said the same words, unknowingly might I add, about Harry's father all those years ago," he explained.

It took you a moment to connect the dots, but once you did you were quick to react, "Shut it."

"She said the same thing too," Remus teased, as you walked out of the kitchen.

***

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Fred had heard everything you said. He thought they were talking about something for The Order, but he ended up catching your conversation. He was over the moon to find out you thought of him like that, and he knew the next time he talked to you he would tease you about it for forever.

***

The next time Fred saw you, you were walking back to your room upstairs when he stopped you.

"What do you want, Weasley?" you asked, knowing he probably had some prank to show you, or a new product.

"I think you mean genius actually," he teased.

It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but once you did you felt a bit embarrassed, "So you heard all of that?"

He nodded his head, "Oh, I heard all of it. How I'm a genius, and my "silly" pranks are actually really impressive, and how you think I'm super smart," he teased, while having the biggest smile on his face.

You shrugged, "And so what if I do?"

Your confidence threw him off a bit, but he went with it. He was silent for a moment before he spoke, "Well, do you like smart guys," he asked, trying to shoot his shot.

"Maybe," you replied, inching closer to him without realizing it.

"That's not an answer, love," he said, the name rolling off his tongue as if it was completely normal.

"Yes, I do," you admitted.

Fred's smile got even wider at your confession, "Good" he said, "And how would you like to kiss a smart guy?"

You shrugged, "I don't know, who is this supposed smart guy?"

"I heard he's quite the genius," Fred said, closer to you now than he was before.

You considered it for a moment, "Then yes, yes I do."

"Even better," Fred said, before connecting his lips with yours. Your hands went around his neck, one of them tangling in his hair. Fred's hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. You both had waited so long for this moment, that it was unbelievable that it finally happened. You didn't know what was next, but you enjoyed the moment between you.

Current Taglist (ask to be added or removed

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @sarahskywalker-amidala @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs @herondale-lightworm @purplerose291 @mitskiswift99 @crumby-child @rafslytherin @shanksvskidd @yerrmar @oceangirl15

[cosmicsimsi]

Why You Shouldn’t Use GShade

Even after two years, I still see people using GShade and claiming it's a safe program, when it’s really not! There are already some older Tumblr posts about this, but I figured it’s worth refreshing the issue.

So please read this

Around two years ago, GShade’s developer added a code that could forcefully shut down your computer, not because of a bug or security measure, but on purpose. Why? Because he was mad that someone, specifically a 16-year-old made an alternative way to install GShade without using the official updater. Instead of handling it professionally, the dev decided to add a malicious code as "punishment" for anyone trying to modify GShade. That’s malware behavior.

(The first spark) ↓

At that time you also HAD to update Gshade to unistall it. ↓

(Developers "Apology") ↓

Now, you might be thinking, “Okay, but that was patched out, so it’s fine now, right?” Nope. Because the biggest issue isn’t just what he did, it’s the fact that he still thinks he did nothing wrong.

The Problem with Closed-Source Software Like GShade

GShade is closed-source, meaning no one except the developer can see or verify what’s actually in the code. This is a issue when dealing with someone who has already abused their control over the software.

With open-source programs (like ReShade), anyone can look at the code, verify it’s safe, and contribute to improving it. If something shady is added, people can catch it immediately. But with GShade, you have to just trust that the dev isn’t hiding anything malicious. And considering his past actions, that’s a massive risk to take.

Even if GShade is "safe" right now, nothing is stopping the dev from adding another backdoor, data collection, or something even worse in the future. Since no one can see the code, you wouldn’t know until it was too late. And given that he still defends his actions, there’s every reason to believe he’d do something similar again.

“But I’ve Never Had Issues With GShade”

A lot of people say GShade runs better than ReShade or has better effects. That might be true, but no amount of quality or convenience is worth putting your computer at risk. Just because something hasn’t caused problems yet doesn’t mean it won’t in the future. Malicious code can be slipped in at any time, and because it’s closed-source, no one would be able to warn you.

And honestly? You shouldn’t be using software made by someone who has already proven they’re willing to mess with your computer. If a developer intentionally inserts harmful code once, they can do it again.

What Should You Use Instead?

There’s a safe and open-source alternative: ReShade

It’s free and open-source, meaning the community can review the code to ensure it’s safe.

It can do almost everything GShade does, and while it may take some tweaking, it’s worth the effort.

Most GShade presets can be converted to work with ReShade with a bit of adjustment.

There are guides available to help transition from GShade to ReShade Here is one: How To Move To ReShade From GShade

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, it’s your computer, and you can do whatever you want with it. But if you choose to keep using GShade, just be aware of the risks you’re taking. The dev has already demonstrated that he’s willing to sabotage people’s computers when he feels like it. He still thinks he was justified. And because GShade is closed-source, he has complete control over what’s in the code without anyone being able to check.

So ask yourself: Is that really the kind of software you want to trust?

ReShade is a safer, open-source alternative that doesn’t put you at risk.

Thank you for reading

Here are some links that discusses the whole topic:

Twitter

Reddit

The persons Blog the code was directed at

[astrobymarwa]

Little things i notice about the moon signs:

(Again, other placements will affect your moon. This is just my opinion and what I've noticed. Feedback is welcome ofc)

Aries moon can be a bit impulsive. They process emotions in a simple, almot innocent way. They feel strongly about things.

Taurus moon shows their feelings in practical ways. They're usually not upfront about it, but if they like you, you'll know. They like to do little things for people they like without the person knowing.

Gemini moon can be good public speakers and be multilinguals. However, they might express different sentiments than what they feel inside.

Cancer moon (if developed) are the most emotionally intelligent of them all. They understand how their feelings completely.

Leo moon (if developed) are very generous, they'd give everything to those they love. They're confident and know their worth.

Virgo moon can get caught up in their own world. They think about certain things so much that they can get detached from reality

Libra moon (i'm sorry) but they can be people pleasers. They try to be kind to everyone that they can get fucked over by people.

Scorpio moon can sense when they're being taken advantage of fast. They're observant and notice things earlier than most other people. They also don't really forgive people that have wronged them

Sagittarius moon usually can't sit still, especially if they're worked up. They hate feeling restricted (in a physical and an emotional way)

Capricorn moon the least expressive moon sign. The type to express themselves in action rather than words. They can be really sweet if they want to. They'll always defend what they believe in and the people they love.

Aquarius moon's feelings are all over the place. They have unique views on things and say things that make everyone go ??

Pisces moon are usually quiet. They daydream a lot and are soft-spoken. They're also usually artistic (even if they're not artists themselves they'd still consume and appreciate art a lot)

[hamsternella]

PLEEEEASE a nsfw alphabet for Stanford??🥺

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Stanford Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Despite the tiredness and embarrassment once the heat of the moment wears off, Ford goes to great lengths to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat. He likes to let you know how well you did, and how much he loves you. Caresses and kisses, as well as laughter and sweet whispers until falling asleep are never lacking.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ford would always say his brain. He is a cool, methodical person who almost always finds a way to achieve great results. Thinking and ingenuity are like breathing to him. But of course in this case that's not the answer; considering that the last thing he can use is his brain when he has you in front of him. It is as if only his heart exists, beating wildly at the sight of the most beautiful and inexplicable thing he has been able to witness in his entire existence: you.

That being the case, he can't find any other part of himself that he likes enough. Maybe his hands, because he knows how much you love it when he touches you. And if it's you, it would be everything—Ford is unable to pick just one part of your body. If he had to, maybe it would be your waist; because he loves to grab you with both hands from that spot to keep you still, under or on top of him, and at whatever pace he can best get those sweet sounds out of you that fascinate him so much.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. Preferably inside you or on your face; sometimes pushing a little with his fingers to fill your mouth with his cum. He loves it when you clean his hand with your tongue.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ford would never tell you—there's a reason it's a secret. But do you still remember those times when you couldn't find your underwear, and suspiciously it was during the weekdays when Ford took care of the laundry, and oddly enough he took all the time in the world to iron and put the laundry away...? Yeah, well. I think you know what I mean. Don't mention to him how obvious it is that he's been stealing your underwear to masturbate with it. Don't tell him, really.

Also don't mention that you've actually felt him cling to you when you sleep; looking for more than just warmth at night. Don't tell him that you clearly feel him down there—hard and warm.

Or do. Who knows what might happen.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Technically no experience at all. Of course he had gotten to kiss other women, maybe a little touch with one or two, but that was many, many years ago; by now he hardly remembers anything at all. Besides he was very young; he used to think differently and be busier with his research. Now that the world is at peace and he can enjoy the calm and family life, it is more than obvious that the only thing he has to defend himself at the beginning of the relationship is all theoretical. It's not a terrible thing, of course. Ford is willing to experiment and learn with you.

F= Favorite position

There are still many positions to try and discover, but the most used —for comfort and practicality— are three par excellence.

Doggy, because nothing is nicer than being able to see you under him, with your ass and waist at his disposal to play to his heart's content.

Cowgirl/Cowboy, because even though he loves making love to you, Ford has to accept that at his age it's hard to stay steady all the time. Sometimes he needs a little help from you to avoid looking pathetic for getting tired after so much action—even if you tell him there's nothing pathetic about it. Besides, don't you look lovely on top of him, with your body shaking and your eyes glazed over? Best view of all.

Spooning, because Ford goes crazy holding you from behind, pushing his hips against your ass; with one of his hands working over your body and his lips on your neck, waking you up from a long night of deep sleep. This man is desperate to touch you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford is quite serious during the moment, but this is because he is a very shy person about approaching you to begin with. Even if it comes to playing along with you he is the first and last to get embarrassed. An occasional nervous laugh; sometimes little choked sentences if he notices you looking at him too much, and that makes him lose his concentration. But in general he is someone very focused, who seeks not to lose the thread of the moment. His biggest fear is disappointing you.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A lot of things happened and he hasn't had the time, nor the desire, to get down to work there. That being the case, I'd say hairy; but at least he's started to take the time to trim it down a bit and make it halfway nice for you. If it's something that would bother you, Ford is willing to trim it further—even all of it.

But yeah. Super hairy.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford takes care to be careful with everything he does or says, always seeking to satisfy the needs of your body and mind; every fantasy you have closely tied to everything he does to make you feel fulfilled. He is a dedicated man, with nimble hands and a sensitive heart. Sweet and witty words are never lacking, always driving you crazy in his arms and against his lips. Sensuality is never in short supply.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been starting to do it more often since he's been with you. Not a lot, because he prefers to do it with you; but once in a while never hurts if he can't get you out of his head. He needs at least something of yours to make him cum—your underwear or the warmth of your body. He needs you.

He cums fast and hard, with the piece of clothing against his face, inhaling intensely; or with a free hand on your body, against your skin.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely role-playing and cockwarming.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Private places, if possible. Ford doesn't want to risk the possibility of being seen by someone else. He loves to have you in the bedroom, or even in his study room. Any place where no one and nothing will interrupt you.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To see you in his clothes, to hear your voice, to come on to him... to suddenly appear dressed for some sensual and perverse role-playing... My goodness, how you drive him crazy.

Ford is a simple guy: he sees his partner existing and making eyes at him, and suddenly he feels his body warm and ready to go.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, because he can't accept the idea of seeing you with someone else, let alone seeing himself with someone other than you. Ford is also unwilling to degrade you or physically harm you; just as he does not find it attractive to allow the same to be done to him.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ford loves to receive oral, but he prefers to give it. He loves to put his mouth down there, tasting you and pulling out sounds that haunt him in his best dreams. You are a delight. Even if he's inexperienced, he's so desperate to have you in his mouth that the guy learns in no time to meet your expectations. There's no way not to lose your mind when Ford is taking care of everything between your legs; with his hands holding you by the flesh of your thighs, with his fingers caressing your skin.

Imagine his face if you proposed sitting on it. Imagine that, I insist. It's the best.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual; deep and hard. Getting all the way in, Ford always gives a little push to press himself against you, hiding his face in the space of your neck. He will talk to you through this—be prepared for a couple of whimpers and muffled moans.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them at all. He prefers to take his time with you. Although if you are very needy, then maybe he can find a way.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ford loves to experiment! And with that always comes risk. But when it comes to sex, this all takes a different turn; and while he's willing to try new things and experiment with you, he'll always be against anything that might hurt you or make you both uncomfortable.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The years and the various experiences out in the open have weathered Ford, and have made him a man with a lot of physical capacity to endure long hours without sleep and with a lot of work. Research work, of course; the physical stuff has always been for fighting or survival.

With this in mind, Ford is able to handle quite a bit of foreplay and sex itself, but he tires quickly after a second round—if the first one wasn't strong enough. Even if he feels he can't go on, he has no problem helping you by using his hands or mouth; as well as any other part of his body that comes in handy. Hopefully and maybe there will be another round if you manage to turn him on one more time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ford doesn't need toys. He only needs you. Now, if in a hypothetical case you would like to use one, he has no problem even designing his own to use with you. At first you tell him no, because it's easier to buy them; but after seeing some plans and listening to him talk so excitedly, seeing that he even starts to consider the idea of implementing other things when it comes to sex, you come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad.

Ford opts to use toys on you, not him. They don't get his attention that way.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not so much, really. He thinks it's cute to see you being so desperate for him. But at the end of the day it's something that makes him desperate too. Ford couldn't stand to play with you like this for long; he needs to accede to your needs in order to satisfy his own.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers A LOT, and likes to moan loudly—but tries to drown them out, fearful that someone might hear them.

If the two of you are in a place where you can be sure not to be overheard, Ford sets out to talk to you during the act.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's unexpected and always manages to sweep you off your feet, but Ford is capable of the hottest dirty talk you can imagine. When you least expect it you have him with his lips on your ear, his hot breath on your skin, and his husky, deep voice of desire spitting out dirty, kinky phrases that keep you with your hands pushing against his chest; his fingers pressing against the skin of your neck, surprising you with how much this man can separate himself from the real world and let you drown in his darkest fantasies.

Ford prefers not to talk about it after everything calms down. It will take some time.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not as long, but definitely fat. The tip is quite sensitive. Slightly curved downward.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he discovered how fascinating your touch is, quite high. Although it's more what he desires than what he can get to do. If he gets careless, he comes quickly. It's fun to play on his desperation and make him wait; that might help him endure his neediness with you a little longer.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty fast; but he strives to see that you're okay after all, and that you're resting with him. His priority is you, after all.