IB Level Psychoanalysis Essay On This Right Now.

So.... I take it that I should complete this? Any feedback?

WIP of Sub!James x Daddy!Reader

Minors do not interact. Also, TW: Internalized homophobia (from James's end)

More tags/warnings: Male reader, cockwarming, gay porn

"Um... How do I do this? Do I just... put it in my mouth?"

James asks while he looks up at you. His calloused hand stroked your inner thigh before spreading over your lap. You could tell by his quivering lip that he was nervous, terrified even. You two were still getting used to this, but James had never been with a man before you. He loves you, he wants you, but the act of putting you in him.... putting a man in him...? It felt.... repulsive.

But did he want to do this...? Yes. Yes! He's been fantasizing about it since forever! It's just.... difficult for him to start. You run your fingers through his dirty blonde hair and say, "Don't feel like you have to do anything. We can always stop."

James looks at you, and says, "I never... did this before. I don't know how to do it." You smile, stroking his hair and telling him, "Do what feels right. Lick it, suck it, kiss it, whatever feels good to you. You're gonna be great regardless, baby."

The second you said that to him.... he immediately started blushing and muttering a response. The topic of sex alone was embarrassing for James, let alone gay sex. But then when he got his barrings, he says, "I want to do it.... but... I-I'm kind of--"

"Scared?" You complete.

James nods. You pet his hair more, making him whimper as you say, "How about you keep it warm for me? You could put me in your mouth, and we could watch something. No actual sex, just helping me stay warm while we watch a movie. You could lay in my lap, watch a movie, and keep me in your mouth. If you want to stop, all you have to do is take me out."

He looks at you, his skin tinted a pink hue and his Adam's apple jiggling when he swallowed a breath of anxiety and rests his head on your thigh before unbuttoning your pajama pants. He was slow, shy, and sweet as he nervously met your gaze. Your waistband grinds against your bulge from his quivering hands, making you muffle a moan. James blushes and chokes on a breath when your cock protruded through the slit of your pants' buttons.

"Dear God!" James huffs, before modestly licking your tip and engulfing you in his mouth. You huff, and look down at him while he rests you into him, and he mutters what movie he wants to watch. It was some corny romance film that he overheard a few guys talking about at a bar. James, being a bit of a sap at heart, figured that it would've been a good time to watch it.

......

You absent-mindedly stroke James's hair as you watch the movie with him. Surprisingly, James still had his cheeks full of you and was very calm. He coos to the sensation of your delicate, firm hands brushing every strand. The feeling caused a wave of chills to wash over him as you two continued to watch. The film itself was.... interesting. For starters, it turned out to be a gay couple, which James didn't expect. The only times he's watched romcoms were with Mary long ago, and even then, they were always between a man and a woman. This was new for him.

Only it wasn't a romcom... it got a few laughs out of you two, but nothing would've prepared James for what would happen next...

The scene was set. A man with dark skin and fluffy coils for hair was cuddling against the other man, a tan and chubby guy. The man's smooth chest rubbed against the fuzzy curls of the other man's chest as their tongues slipped between each other's lips until the chubby one began to leave a trail of kisses down the fluffy-haired man's body.

James was stunned. He's never seen a scene between men that was so.... what were the words? Vile? Uncouth? Indecent? Unnatural? Repulsive? Perverted? Sinful?

No... it just wasn't right. It should be the woman on her knees for the man... not... whatever this was.... right?

Or.... no.... that's just not true....

But there was a small part of James that countered every remark, every lash, every guilty thought with the words he couldn't say, "Intimate, Loving, Erotic, Desirable, Sensual, Romantic, Wholesome..."

The scene continues, and now the chubby man is sweating and sliding the fluffy-haired man's cock into his mouth. His cheeks were hollowing themsleves and sliding with such ease, taking every inch until he gagged before releasing his grip to pump his lover with his fist with such haste and taking him back in. But not without a loud wet squelch from his saliva, making the other man bellow out a moan and thrust into the other's mouth.

The room filled with wet slaps, moans, squelches, and gagging as the scene unfolded for such a long time. James was speechless. He's never seen anything like it. Even the more raunchy films that he's seen in his past years were nothing compared to this. He could feel himself grow harder with every slap, gag, and grunt from the actors. He wanted to pry himself away from the TV, seeing something so... so... obscene! But he couldn't shake the feeling of curiousity. How would it feel to give? How would it feel to receive?

He can feel you, too. The way you're throbbing in his cheek, the way your veins refined themselves, the way you straightened out, the way your tip poked against his throat, and the way he could taste a foreign saltiness on his tongue. He wanted it. He wanted this so badly. He wished the actors were you two. He wished the fantasy between man and man were a reality, not just some guilty pleasure. He wanted--

Suddenly, one of the actors lets out a whine and says, "Cum on me, daddy!"

James choked, literally. Your hips bucked in response to the abrupt stimulation, making you pause the movie and say, "James, are you okay?"

He looks up at you... his dirty blonde bangs sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed, and breath heavy. He was quiet before taking a chance to get off the couch and on his knees. With a vulnerable, subservient gaze and a coy tongue, his mouth opens up, and he points into the gaping hole.

Finally, he says sweetly,

"Can I... suck it, Daddy?"

And that's all for now! I'd really appreciate some feedback since I have never done mlm smut before! Lmk if I can do more or how to improve! Is the WIP good? Should I continue? Like... tell a girl how you feel!

I need more metaphorical fanfics like ong this got my English literature nerd ass squealing with joy. You convey James' guilt and desire for human connection and euphoria so beautifully like I swearrrr I could annotate this bitch!

bliss

pairing: james sunderland x maria

cws/tags: p in v, oral, dubcon? (james is not into it), excessive metaphors

summary: if james and maria fucked or something??

a/n: idk even know how to describe this bc it's silent hill? like what is really happening here is subjective tbh

wc: 1k

taglist | ko-fi | masterlist

Despite being held captive by Maria’s heat, James is thinking of Mary the entire time. She’s hot on the surface, warm on the inside, cold in her organs, freezing in her bones, and empty of a soul. Her pink acrylics are like fire when she digs them into his skin. She can’t keep him forever, but he’ll be covered in scratch marks for days. 

Beauty is pain, pain is beauty, or however the old saying goes. 

Maria looks more like Mary when she’s naked. When the choker is off. It looks like a dog collar, he once told her. And how appropriate it is for someone who sat pretty on the side of his bed and begged for this – for scraps. That’s what this is. The leftovers of love that no one else will have – like rotten fruit, it was once good. All of this is bitter, but everyone needs to eat something, at least once in a while, right? It’s not a feast, but it’ll do.

Maria isn’t the kind of dog that barks, she whimpers, and it tugs at his heartstrings until they snap and his willpower unravels. She sheds leopard print like snakeskin, hues of violet, magenta, cranberry, fall to the floor all at once. 

Her skin is soft, breasts perky, pink-nippled, the kind you see in magazines. James plays with them like he does keys on a piano – not well-practiced, yet eliciting sound nonetheless. She’s quiet now – a rarity – likely because Laura is down the hall, asleep, unaware, as she should be. More often than not, she is loud. Her heels click-clack down the hallway towards his bedroom like a warning siren, coming closer, speeding up with every step like his heartbeat.

Even with her shoes on, Maria doesn’t reach James in stature. Neither did Mary, but she never tried to, never needed to — she was above him in every other way. She was ephemeral. Quiet and angelic in ballet flats, she could slip into bed without waking him up. Realistically, she took up a third of this bed at most, maybe a quarter at her sickest, but with her absence the entirety of it feels empty, hollow, like the stuffing’s been removed from the mattress too, though two people lay upon it. 

His name floats from Maria’s lips to his ear, breathless, asking for more than he can give. He wonders if this is what Mary sounded like when they did this sort of thing all those years ago. James remembers her voice, her singing in the passenger seat to the mixtape he made for their first Valentine’s Day together, her yelling at him in the hospital. But he doesn’t remember her moaning, not like this, not on the edge of bliss. Those weren’t the memories he held onto the tightest. 

Not with the same grip that he has on Maria’s hips, maintaining the most control he can while she’s the one on top. Not with the same grip Maria’s cunt has around his dick. She’s squeezing the life out of him, but it feels good, undeniably. Unfairly. Penance is a woman. 

She’s so wet he slipped right in, so wet he slipped up and told her, “goddamn, you’re wet”, caught by surprise because what had he done? His mouth hasn’t touched either pair of lips, and he plans to keep it that way. 

When she gets up, removing the warmth that surrounded him, he groans in frustration. It’s a noise that must be familiar to her. His immense vexation is the only thing larger than her infatuation with him. 

James looks down – something he’s avoided doing until now – and sees her crawling downwards, pressing kisses down his stomach. 

“What are you doing?” he says with zero amusement.

Staining him with dark red lipstick. Like wine or blood. Like before and after.

“Has no one ever done this to you?” she asks, and she takes hold of his cock, making him take in a sharp breath before he answers.

It’s like a stab right through the chest, knocking the wind out of him with the force of something unspoken.  

“No, I– I mean, yes, I’ve had this done to me before. I’m asking you why you’re doing this.”

“Why not? You won’t even have to look at me, I can be under the covers, and you won’t have to hear me talking. You can even pretend I’m someone–”

“Shut up,” he says with a force he’d forgotten he could muster as he shoves his cock down her throat. 

He could pretend it’s someone else – the same way he’s been pretending Maria is Mary for the past 30 minutes or so, but he’d never hurt Mary. He hated hearing the sound of her gagging. He always kept her from going too far. Who is it if not Mary? 

It doesn’t matter who I am. 

Could she be his psychiatrist who’s 60 years old and annoys him to the point that it makes him miss Maria? The woman at the dry cleaners or the cashier at the grocery store? Maybe he needs to get back into watching porn. His mind runs faster than his feet ever have to get to the answer. There is only disappointment at the end of that road, only white sheets covering the another illusion.                       

It's Maria's mouth that sputters, her throat that chokes around his cock even though it's not that big.

When she first caught a glimpse of it, she gave him that classic bullshit line, telling him how big it is, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, well, it’s not small.”

“Just be normal, or as normal as you can be. I don’t want whatever this weird porn thing is that you’re doing.”

It makes it all seem fake. 

See, I’m real. 

Maybe, but not like Mary. 

Then again, maybe it's better if this is all fake so James and Maria are just marionette dolls in someone else’s fantasy, caught in a videotape. 

Maria doesn't need to be Mary, James doesn't need to be James. Instead, he pretends they’re both other people. She’s a nurse, he’s the doctor, she’s a mother, he’s the father.

James looks into her eyes when he’s on top of her, searching for something he’ll never find, until he gives up and flips her over and fucks her flat into the mattress. 

Maria is quiet only because she screams into the pillow. 

James is quiet because that’s how all tapes end. 

A click, static, then silence. 

The way I'm writing the most submissive and breedable James Sunderland x Reader ever where you hypnotize him and order him around.... stay tuned yall, stay tuned.

Without giving any further context, imma just say James is literally your Barbie doll. That is all.

I was buying myself tampons yesterday and realized my input about them sounded like some shit Rex would say.

"Bought S Tampons 'cause that pussy S Tier."

I muttered that to myself while walking home, cuz y'know I was just carrying the box with no bag and destigmatize periods and stuff, only to realize that sounded like smth he'd say.

Ooooh this is such a fun crossover! :0

NEEDY PROFILER OVERLOAD

Hey! So this is fucking incredible!

bratty sub!rex x soft dom!mark? might be weird, sorry if u don't wanna do it😭

NOOOO it’s not weird. Thanks for the idea anon lmk what you think >.< Hope you enjoy!!

Mark is pushing him against the wall, hands at his chest as he breathes heavily in front of him. “What the hell was that, man?!” He’s seething, anger seeping from his words.

“Whatever,” Rex is responding, dismissive. But he’s also holding his breath, watching the way Mark is licking his lips, feeling the way he’s holding him against the wall.

Mark is clenching his jaw, eyes squinting at the man in front of him. How can he be so calm? “You almost put us in jeopardy,” one of Mark’s fingers poke Rex in the chest, “if I hadn’t been there, someone would’ve gotten hurt!”

“Well, it’s a good thing you were there,” Rex is muttering, suddenly feeling some heat in his chest rise. He doesn’t know if he’s angry at Mark badgering him, or if he’s just trying hard not to think about how close his lips were.

How easy it would be to capture them in a kiss.

Would he kiss him back? Rex is musing to himself, when he feels Mark’s hand move down to his hip, still keeping him flush against the wall. Rex is looking up at Mark, a bit confused when he sees the dark look in his eyes, until he realises that:

a) he’d just been staring at his lips

b) he had a hard on this entire time

Mark is scoffing, but the his pupils are blown out. “What, don’t tell me you fucking get off on this?” His words are meant to be scathing, but there’s a rasp in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Rex feels his cock throb.

Mark is watching him, experimentally moving his hand from his hip down to abdomen, just below his bellybutton, feeling his abs tense underneath his touch.

Rex is panting, suddenly not so annoyed at Mark’s lecture, and he can feel Mark’s fingers splayed out on his stomach, so close to where he needs him, that he doesn’t even think before whimpering a, “Please.”

And then Mark is kissing him.

It’s different to kissing a girl. Mark’s lips are soft, but his grip stronger, and it’s not slow, or sensual. It’s fast, it’s hard, it’s rough. They’re ripping each other’s suits off, wasting no time before exploring each other, hands grabbing and gripping and squeezing.

“Fuck, Mark. You kiss good.” Rex is teasing him, still panting from the best make-out he’s had in a while.

“I fuck better.” Is all he gets as a response, gasping when Mark is pushing him down into the bed. Mark finds his place behind him, having Rex sit in between his thighs, pinching his nipples as he bites and sucks at his neck.

His fingers move down to grasp at Rex’s dick, chuckling lowly into his ear when he feels it jump against his touch. Rex is whimpering, too sensitive, and Mark’s grip is almost too much.

The raven haired man behind him is spitting on his hand, grabbing his cock again as he pumps him, thumbing at his tip before moving his hand up and down his cock again. “F-fuck, Mark, wait-”

“Nuh-uh,” Mark is tutting, “you wanted to be a brat right?” he’s tugging at Rex’s dick harshly, like he almost wanted him to feel a bit of pain with the pleasure, and Rex is feeling all of it.

“So fucking take it.” That’s all the redhead needs to hear as he’s arching his back against Mark’s chest, ropes of come spilling readily from him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Is the mantra leaving Rex’s mouth, his hips bucking into Marks touch. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s perfect.

“Look at what a mess you made.” Mark is tutting, smearing Rex’s cum all over his abdomen, fingers coming up to suck it off, and Rex can feel Mark’s hardened length against his back.

Rex is turning around, leaning in between Mark’s thick thighs, and although Mark looks painfully hard, and his cock is moving just from Rex’s heated look, he’s muttering a, “Oh, you don’t have to-” before Rex interrupts him.

“Please. Fuck, Mark, just let me suck you off?”

He’s asking so nicely, and he sounds so strained, like he needs it, so Mark is groaning, nodding as he watches Rex part his mouth and envelope his cock into his warmth.

“Fuck, just like that.” Rex had never sucked a dick before. It was more difficult than he anticipated, and Mark was big, making it even more challenging.

He took what he could in his mouth, using his hand to attend to the rest. He’s looking up at Mark, and god, the sight was beautiful. Brown eyes staring down at him, eyebrows scrunched as he groaned lowly.

Rex would get on his knees every day if it meant Mark would look at him like that. He felt himself getting hard again, simply from the dizzying look from the man above him.

It was depraved.

“Come for me,” He’s whispering against his length, vibrations going straight down Marks core. And then he is.

And when Mark sees Rex open his mouth and loll out his tongue, come all swallowed, he’s drawing out his voice, uttering a, “Good boy.”

Genuinely crashing out right now cuz I spent hours for days on end doing my HL essay for my senior IB English class. I worked so damn hard analyzing everything, typing it out, editing back to back, and I turned it in just before the deadline only to realize it fucking slipped my mind to attach my AI detected screenshot to prove that I made it. So I emailed my teacher, only to realize that holy fuck, I forgot to make citations too!

I rarely ever cry over school anymore but bro, it's 12:23 AM. I was literally dipping in and out of consciousness just to wake up and turn it in before the deadline only to realize I fucked up, and I gotta finish another essay, and I gotta wake up at 6:30 AM for the bus, and then I gotta tutor motherfuckers in the morning before my IB English class at 8:31 AM, take a test, and read 30 pages for Wednesday. Like... I'm literally sobbing right now over this shit and idk who or where to vent to. Anyway, James Sunderland.

AI "art" isn't real art. I don't care if it's AI generated fanfiction, AI generated songs, AI generated paintings, I DON'T FUCKING CARE! IT WILL NEVER BE ART. IT'S MEANINGLESS. UTTERLY MEANINGLESS. AI ARTISTS? FUCK YOU, YALL AIN'T ARTISTS.

ai does not belong in creative spaces. period.

By The Ring

Rex Sloan x G/N Reader

18+ Minors begone! I have been rotting away for far too long and need to come back. So have my first angsty smut ever.

Summary: Rex always thought you and him were together, but to you, you guys were just a couple. Despite how awful of a partner you were, Rex always has the doubt in his mind that you do care, and you are his.

Warnings/Tags: Cheating from Rex's end, penetration but reader's genitals are kept vague. The reader is genuinely a p.o.s. reader is using Rex for sex, actively objectifies him, and doesn't care about anything else, and this isn't meant to romanticize objectification at all. I'm just practicing a new way of writing. Sex is dry af, dead bedroom, lots of angst, plastic love, literary devices cuz I'm a nerd💀, shattered relationship, hurt but no comfort yall, I'm sorry, it's 12:20 AM and I had a thought😭

You laid there bare while he slipped his way in. Your body is as hot as his charged molecules, but your moans are as loud as a dying kindle. His rough palm clutching your jaw to pepper kisses while you half-heartedly whimper. Moaning was a courtesy, not a requirement. Neither was cumming.

Moaning, begging, sucking, cumming.... it was never a requirement or a need... just formalities.

You knew from the start what kind of person Rex Sloan....or Splode.... was. A firecracker made in an assembly line designed to fizzle, flicker, explode, wow, and then tarnish to leave behind its tattered pieces. Its smell embedded into the ground and your clothes that stank of gunpowder. If there was one thing you loved about Rex.... it was his big personality. He was an ass, but he was always entertaining even in the more distasteful circumstances. He was the definition of fun and adventure.

Sometimes all you ever want is a little fun.

But too much of one's sweet indulgences will always leave a bitter taste in their mouths. Rex was a firework you loved to watch explode, fizzle, and flash vibrantly with all of his true colors. But what happens when the fireworks are too loud? What happens when the fireworks are too bold? What happens when the fireworks burst too close to your home? What happens when the fireworks are simply.... too much?

You dispose of them. Tuck them away into a closet until you get board and long to see their violent bursts again.

Rex was a skeleton in your closet. You didn't bring him up to family or friends--not because you were ashamed, moreso you didn't find it necessary. He was just a firework to watch until he fizzled away from your mind. His ambers always remained in your gyri for his body, for his face, and occassionally his personality.

But sometimes, you really wished he'd just stay in his place.

He thrusts faster into you, pounding, needy, desperate and depraved. What once felt so thrilling, so desirable, so irresistible, has become so.... so.... monotonous. It wasn't the sex that ruined things, it was him.

Assembly lines have changed the world forever. People gained jobs, capitalistic societies thrived, and consumers ate up every new appliance and car and cosmetic that released. But assembly lines were exploitative, coldly formatted to prioritize profit over people, and greedy.

Rex gained respect, Rex thrived in action-packed environments, Rex ate up every ounce of attention, and Rex.... was just a faulty firecracker designed to maximize your gratification until you decide to recall because he oversupplied, and you wanted more of him in ways that did not correspond to his ideas. Rex changed your world forever.

You couldn't care less about his job, his life, or his friends, not when he was inside of you. But now, that wasn't even enough because of course it wasn't. Rex could work in his place in line, tending to your conveyor belt for hours upon hours in a day, and you'll only ever pay him with half-hearted honeyed affirmations and the occassional peck on the cheek. Yet you'll still command more from him. You were as affectionate as Tyson Foods, or Apple, or Google, or Amazon, or whatever big wig corporation had a CEO with a warm smile and a cold way of life.

There was better than Rex. There always was and always will be.

If you desired, you could get a replacement by next evening.

Rex massaged your spot, whimpering and muttering: "Why.... why are you so quiet, baby? Is it not good enough?"

He sounded.... different from his usual cocky demeanor... scared. It was as though the entirety of his worth as a person, as a man, as Rex Splode, as Rex Sloan... rested between his thighs.

....

The fear that filled his body fueled his fiery passion further as he hoisted you up and pounded. This time, you moaned. An authentic, genuine moan that filled the room and gave Rex the validation he needed to gain that sense of machismo. The kind of masculinity that was as secure as the neglected mechanical cogs on a calculated conveyor belt. Rex was monotonous and loud, but by god did he have a use.

He slides out before slapping himself back in with a clap of flesh while he whispered....

"My baby.... my baby..." He huffs between steamy kisses and loud claps. His words synchronized with the sounds of his thrusts as he continued.... "You're my baby, say it to me...."

You bite your lip, not from pleasure--no, no, no, that candle put itself out long ago--but rather resistance, rebellion, apathy, reluctance, everything that Rex would define as "shitty." But you humored him, striking the match to light his fuse as you pant out, "I'm your baby, Rex. I'm your baby."

Rex was a firecracker you always set off when you wanted a show and you always made sure to set him off into a lake when he was too much. To bet on losing dogs is the very definition of insanity. But Rex places his stamp down and pays the price every time. He knows. He knows that what he's doing is wrong, seeing Kate behind your back, talking to Eve, touching other people, only to bury himself deep into you. He didn't deserve you. He knew that. But he loved you so, so much. You were perfect, affectionate enough to keep him coming, but distant enough that he could never worry about genuinely losing a bet. That was until he heard you laugh with him, not at him, or when you were so forgiving, and loving.... where did you go? You don't even look him in the eyes during sex.

But that night.... you did.

And it gave Rex the foreign feeling of butterfly houses populating with heat insulated.... he couldn't help but hiss at you through clenched teeth, "I wanna feel it.... you looking in my eyes when I come..."

To bet on losing dogs is the very definition of insanity. Deep beneath the depths of his hearth through the cracked stonework and sooted walls of his personhood, lied the burned letter he always sought to ignore.

You don't love him. He can tell by the way you always gaze at his body and dismiss his words, how you craved him for his looks and not his jokes, and how even after you drained him, you still commanded more. You never asked how he was doing, you just always focused on "making him feel better." Except he never did. But he loves you so.... for whatever reason, he does.

He loves you so much that he'll cry to himself over his infidelity even though you couldn't care less if he left you today. He hates himself for it but christ, he needs someone that's you but.... isn't like you. He stopped going after Rae, Kate, and Eve. He started seeking people who looked as close to you as possible. Some nights, he'd even pay a prostitute extra to let him call them by your name, or to dye their hair like yours, and so on. Or when he watches porn.... he always tries to find one where the bodies, the actors, and the sounds were as close to you as possible because he knows it will never truly happen. For once, sex was something that made Rex miserable.... how can he possibly enjoy you when he has to sleep knowing that if it weren't for his anatomy, you would leave?

If he can't make you stay with his jokes, or his meals, or his fireworks from charged coins, he only had one last thing.... his body.

He loves you so much that he actively bets on his losing dog. He sees you and he knows that you are bound to fail him everytime without trying because that's exactly your problem. You don't try.

You don't even care.

He could sit there in his car and scream how he loves you, but whether he screamed in the car alone, or screamed right there in your home you still left him alone. As long as he came back to bed bare, only then would you truly acknowledge him and hold him.

Finally, Rex reached his peak and lets go, only to make sure you reached yours, too. As you cum, it wasn't a powerful crash of waves, it was a poltergeist of pleasure that throbbed throughout your body. But Rex knew this was all he could do. He knows you're bored of him now.

........

In the middle of cuddling you, Rex finally snaps bitterly:

"Why don't you ever say my name when we fuck? You don't even look at me!"

But when he said that, he looked to see you scrolling away on your phone. Inattentive, careless, and inconsiderate as always. He bets on losing dogs.

Then he decided to tell you the truth....

"I've been seeing other people. Kate, Rae, Eve, and others." He confessed whilst firmly looking at you with those green eyes lit with determination; a faulty firework ready to blow up into the lake once more.

He sat there in silence, expecting you to get angry, cry, scream, or do something indicating that you do care about him.

When he is met with silence, he instigated further.

"You tasted her. Every time you went down on me, you tasted them, 'cause I ain't washing my sins, baby!" He exclaimed with bravado, he knew everything. He knew you were just putting on a front.... you do love him, you care for him, that you were worth losing every bet, that you were worth placing every bet down like a deranged gambler, that you weren't his losing dog, that you were his, that he'll break your heart, that he'll make you cry, and then it'll all be okay. He knew---no, he knows, everything. Even if you are dry and you can't keep up, he knows it'll hurt.

But it didn't hurt like he thought it would.

After he confessed his infidelty and clutched his plastic pride, all you did was roll over and tiredly mutter to him,

"Make sure you get tested tomorrow. I don't wanna have to take antibiotics 'cause of you."

And just like that.... you set him off and briefly witnessed his burst into the lake. He gets up, agitated and shouting at you, but you have long fell asleep. Realizing he was losing on your side, he went to the bathroom and wrapped his lips around the faucet before turning it on to the highest setting.

Through gargles, choked sobs, fizzled sorrows, and longing ambers being flooded by metallic water, he coughs up remains before pulling out the diamond ring in his pocket. It wasn't flashy, it was cheap, but it was a promise. The promise to be better, the promise to stay by your side, the promise.... to bet on another losing dog.

With a somber gaze that pawned off his emerald eyes, Rex places the ring onto the sink; ready to place down yet another stamp that's long dried after so many bets. The diamond was starting to yellow. He didn't hurt like he thought it would.... he told you the truth with the hopes of having your love at last, and all you did was reduce him to a urine sample. All Rex is left with a quiet place to scream how he loves you. He knows that the promise to stay by your side is a guarantee lose, but he's become nothing but a poor gambler.

So he fizzles into the bowl of the sink, and bursts into the lake... ready to work another shift in the assembly line that was your manufactured love. He'd bet on losing dogs anyday. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Because to bet on losing dogs, to fail by your side, to be stuck in your assembly line, was to know everything.

Are there any transformers rescue bot fans around my age? 18-19? Cuz I want moots so badly and I wanna ramble to them about stuff but my blog is 18+ and I need people around my age😭

I am 18 :3