#FUCK this was so much longer than I expected

[wosoluver]

Oh, baby

Georgia Stanway x reader.

I know nothing about giving birth so bare with me. Also please don't kill me for the plot changes, Hope you like it!

Other players masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Fuck!" you said feeling the warm liquid run down your legs. "No, no, no." You were staying over at her parents' house. Tomorrow would be the final match at the 2023 world cup and you would be gathered to watch the game there.

"Jo! We need to go, my water just broke!" you said grabbing her mother's attention. Her dad had gone to Australia to support her, but her mom refused leaving you, pregnant and alone. And you thanked the universe. You were 36 weeks, you were to give birth only next month. You had been feeling small contractions, that were apparently normal in the third trimester.

That was the only reason Georgia agreed to go.

A million thoughts went through your mind. Would the baby be okay? Would they have to do a C-section?

Would your fiancé be okay, knowing she missed the moment se was waiting so excited for? Were you even ready for this?

You started to cry immediately.

"Don't worry love, I'm calling her as soon as you're in the hospital."

"No please! You can't! You know her!" you said followed by a scream when you felt the sharp pain of a contraction hit you. "Please, please wait as much as we can. This is important for her, she needs to be a hundred percent focused."

"But seeing her daughter's birth is too..."

"I know but even if she knows, she'll won't get here in time. Please."

She only nodded agreeing with you. And you asked her to call your parents instead.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

While you walked around the room, preparing yourself for the ride ahead, in attempt to stay sound, you thought about what had led you here.

You and Georgia had been together for almost six years.

You had met at Man City, both came from a small town and were around the same age, sharing the dream to become big players.

You started dating, and your relationship went through a lot.

You endured for years a long distance relationship, when you moved away to play in Spain and she stayed back in Manchester.

A couple of seasons later you transferred to Bayern, where your girlfriend soon followed suit.

And you both finally managed to start your life together.

She didn't want to wait any longer, all that time had been enough.

From living together to her proposing, life felt like pure bliss.

And after the 2022 euro's title, you felt like it was the right time to have a pause on your career.

It wasn't an easy decision, since the World Cup was around the corner.

But differently from your teammates, you now had a bigger dream, Georgia fully supported you, she herself had always wanted to be a mother.

You didn't expect for it to work so soon.

Along with the risks the doctors had told you, it could take more than one try.

Fortunately the whole pregnancy had been very healthy, and nothing gave you any reason to think something like this could happen.

You questioned yourself if you were doing the right thing, by not updating her on the matter.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Georgia's head was buzzing, Spain was winning by a goal. England had slightly recovered at the end of first half, but it wasn't enough.

She sat on the locker room, trying to cool down, zoning out a bit. All she could think of was winning this, to come home as a champion. For her girls.

She could have never imagined you had been in the hospital for the last couple of hours, let alone giving birth. So she didn't bother to look for her phone.

And before she knew, she was walking back to the field for the second half.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Just one more push, yeah?"

And you did as a loud cry filled the room. And they placed her right on your chest.

You felt like you could pass out from how tired you were.

But you couldn't, yet.

"You did great darling." her mom cooed you in between tears.

"Is the game over yet?"

"Yes, they won second place." she handed your phone over.

You cried hard a the sound of that. She had been deprived of being champion and seeing her daughter's first moments in the same day, at the same time. You tried to recompose yourself while you pressed to facetime her.

ongoing call...

"Hey love, what took you so lon-" she managed to get out before shutting up at the realization. A big smile appearing in her tear stained face. "She's beautiful."

before she could say anything else, Lucy, who was prying at the video call, loudly announced to everyone.

"The baby is here!" and you could hear the girls cheering loudly. Running to try and congratulate you.

"You guys are so loud, geez." your soon to be wife said after a few moments, walking to a more private place, so you both could talk.

"I am so sorry." you said eyes filled with tears.

"We couldn't have known." she said giving you a reassuring smile. "I was going to show you this baby here," showing her silver medal at the camera. "But it seems like you're already holding our baby right there."

And for over ten minutes you two sat quietly, just admiring the angel you had brought into the world.

"Is she okay? I mean she clearly looks like it, but since she's early..."

"Better than expected actually. They said she's around 6.30 lbs and over 19 inches. Pretty big for a preterm. They'll run some tests in the morning, just to be sure." you said letting out a yawn.

"You need to get some sleep. And I'm getting on the first plane home."

"I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

"Oh baby, I'm the one who's proud. I love you. Both of you."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Maybe another part with G meeting baby Talia?

like & share pls!

[reshinless]

──── come and get it, star b☆y!

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. when you want to tease xiao on an evening you aren't supposed to. (spoiler: he's a little pent-up if you know what i mean ;p)

𝜗𝜚 pairings. xiao x gn!reader, !!nsfw content ahead!!

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. an idea my lovely friend gave, and i decided to write more about, luv u ky <33

xiao who was already stressed, this night was longer than expected. he was already ready to crash into the bed right beside you, and admire you all night again.

but when xiao did end up arriving home.. he felt more pent up than before, he never felt like this back then, but why now? what's this pressure he feels throbbing on his dick? and shit your timing could not be better.. coming out of the kitchen in almost nothing but an apron.

xiao could feel the blood gushing quickly to his cock, covering his mouth in an attempt of covering up his groan. you really wanted to tease him. sure the delicious scent of almond tofu did smell nice, but he wanted a different kind of sticky tonight.

xiao who could already feel your pussy sucking him inside, as if you were prepared for him, every inch of his cock hitting your insides so blissfully, he could hear how each plop kissed the deepest parts inside. he could already see the pretty little bulge in your tummy!

xiao who cockily whispers, his mouth on the shell of your ear, praising you for how good you're doing.. bent over the kitchen counter who could do nothing but hold on to the edges, each powerful thrust moving you forward and backward each time. he could see how many times your eyes rolled back.

carrying you by your hips directly from the kitchen into the bedroom, he laid you down onto the bed, placing one of your legs atop his shoulder. xiao who scoffed at your initial shock; "you really thought i was done?" looking into your eyes with a smirk.

xiao who's still busy admiring every time you loll your tongue out as he grinds himself into your g-spot, watching how good it made you feel. the bed continues to creak as he returned to his fast pace blows to your insides.

xiao who feels like filling you till the brim, flipping your over to face the soft cushions. positioning your ass into the air, moon-shaped marks grow into your skin as he held your hips back and forth tightly. each move only taking him closer to what seems like his fifth time already, but he couldn't waste a second of this.

xiao who sat you back up on the bed, eyes making contact with your own. adoring every little speck of dust that landed on your face, or the little mole you have on your hip, or maybe that birthmark you mentioned briefly. or it could be the scars scattered along your body. could be every curve he's caressed this evening, or maybe it was the musky scent in the air of the sweat on your forehead, especially with the way your hair still stuck to your skin.

xiao who still fingered the cum seeping out your entrance. he meant his word when he said he didn't want to waste anything. even while still mooning over the way your eyebrows knit, his fingers weren't even doing that much, just enough to make sure everything's still in there.

xiao who finally goes to sleep with you after a warm bath, drying himself in a towel, and getting into the pleasant comfort of the sheets you both share.

as you snuggle closer to kiss the small diamond-like mark on his forehead, xiao froze, feeling blood rush down there again, his tattoos that dance along his arms glowing in indication to how he feels.

oh he's gonna fuck you again

gg go next idk i don't know if i like this one that much, but i do wanna get into this one fanart about how xiao gets turned on if you kiss his little mark, or his tattoos :3

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[butterflyslinky]

Since AO3 is down, I'm going to continue on from this post here.

Buck spends the next several hours sitting in the hospital by Tommy's bedside. Eddie brings him coffee. Maddie forces him to eat. Eventually, the nurses kick him out because he isn't family and visiting hours are over.

(Fuck that, Buck thinks. I'm his family, we all are, he doesn't have anyone else.)

Bobby catches him in the lobby. He's staying with Athena (she's fine, just in for observation) and promises to keep an eye on Tommy as much as he can and to call Buck if anything changes.

Buck lets Maddie drive him home, because he's tired to the point of being a liability. He almost asks her to drive him somewhere else, but it's too late. It will have to wait until morning.

Maddie stays with him. Gets him to shower and go to bed, even if he barely sleeps. Stays on his couch; she probably sleeps a little, but both their phones are turned up to full volume.

The call comes at about eight, just as Buck was maybe starting to actually get some REM in.

"He's awake," Bobby says. "He's asking for you."

Buck is out of bed at once, no longer caring he hasn't slept or shaved and probably looks like death warmed over. "I'll be there in an hour," he says. "I need to run an errand first."

"What errand?" Bobby asks. Buck explains. "Okay," Bobby says. "Visiting hours don't start until then anyway."

He wakes Maddie up and asks her to drive. He probably shouldn't still. She agrees as long as he buys her breakfast. They end up in a really crappy diner that's more convenient than desirable. Buck watches the clock, waiting for it to tick over to nine o'clock.

As soon as it does, he pays the bill and leaves. Goes to the shop next door and makes his purchase.

He gets back to the hospital at 9:30. Bobby meets him in the lobby again.

"He's doing well," he says. "The doctors expect him to make a full recovery." He claps Buck on the shoulder. "Good luck, kid." He turns and offers to take Maddie home so she can get some proper sleep; Athena's been discharged so they'll be going soon anyway. Maddie agrees.

Buck goes back into the room alone. Tommy is dozing when Buck sits down, but wakes up when Buck takes his hand.

"Hey, babe," Buck says.

"Evan," Tommy says. His voice is quiet, but the word is kind. "Missed you."

"I missed you too." Buck squeezes his hand. "I know we haven't been dating very long, but...last night, they said I'm not your family and made me leave. But we are family, and I don't want that to happen again because we're both in here a lot, and so...so I wanna fix that." He reaches into his pocket and produces a ringbox. "Tommy Kinard, will you marry me?"

Tommy's face breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah," he said. "Soon as I'm out of here."

Evan laughs and slides the ring on his finger.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you. 

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky. 

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on that same end of that stick just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected. 

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces. 

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different. 

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction. 

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait. 

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore. 

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks. 

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in. 

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is. 

Maybe he’s it. 

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine. 

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom. 

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him. 

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists. 

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust. 

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet. 

And you have a heated… What was it called again? 

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay. 

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you. 

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind. 

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works. 

He looks absolutely maddened when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water. 

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, all puffy fromps and velvet coats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery. 

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. You looked every bit the rising star that you are. The theme is Midnight Elysium – and you look every bit the part, dangerous and glamourous and untouchable. 

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.  

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen. 

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact. 

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?” 

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake. 

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather. 

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask. 

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks. 

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed. 

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him. 

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating. 

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice. 

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to. 

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his. 

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

The bright flash from the official party photographer’s camera erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it jolts both of you back to reality. 

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling tightly around your wrist as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna. 

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now. 

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The club is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most. 

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you can almost hear him wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. 

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end. 

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t. 

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken. 

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting. 

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room. 

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track. 

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command. 

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep. 

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him. 

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features. 

“Love… you’re awake.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged in a little while ago by the amazing @patolemus & @hellameyers 🤗

I'm currently working on editing chapter 5 of the poets are right, which I'll be posting in a couple of days - so here's a snippet from that!

-

“Did you think I was hot when we first met?” Stiles asks.

The huff of laughter that pushes out from between Derek’s smiling mouth is entirely ball-busted, and the tips of his ears quickly colour a soft red in the low, warm light of the room. Stiles’ lips pull into an instant grin back at him.

“Yeah,” Derek says.

“Really?” Stiles presses, finding way too much joy in this. “You thought I was a hot little piece of omega ass, right off the bat?”

“Really,” Derek echoes easily, one arm folding behind his head while the other skims light fingers up and down Stiles’ side. “It wasn’t so much a fight or flight instinct as it was a fight or... fuck.”

Barking out a loud laugh, Stiles gleefully peers up at him, at the easy confession of immediate attraction falling from Derek’s lips. His heartrate picks up excitedly as he wriggles closer into the solid heat of Derek’s body.

“Too bad the fight won out that time,” Stiles laments.

Derek hums, lifting a hand to cup gently at the back of Stiles’ neck.

“Too bad,” he agrees, before lifting both eyebrows. “Did you think I was hot when we first met?”

“Obviously,” Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I thought you were hot before we met, dude. You know that already.”

And he does. As embarrassing it was at the time to admit out loud, to the object of his one-sided affection for so many anonymous years, he did tell Derek. That particular secret was shared not too long into this thing between them, spilling all about this crush he has had ever since he first discovered photographs of the ultimate alpha heart-throb Derek Hale in some teen magazine or other.

Derek took it like a champ. Actually, he took it like an incredibly smug bastard – but that was only to be expected. Learning that the person you like just as much as they like you, has actually liked you a hell of a lot longer than you have even known that person existed, well... Stiles can see how something like that might go straight to your head.

Tamping down on the urge to swat that self-satisfied smirk right off of Derek’s face, Stiles settles on leaning up to kiss it into something more dazed and breathless, instead. When he pulls back, he feels a thrill of satisfaction at the utterly glazed over look in Derek’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Stiles lets himself continue, head tipping to one side. “If only you hadn’t gone and ruined it the first time you opened your mouth by being a fucking asshole.”

Derek breathes out yet another ball-busted laugh. His fingers slide through the short hairs at the back of Stiles’ head, nails scratching lightly into Stiles’ scalp, as he takes the – entirely true, and entirely deserved – insult on the chin. He quickly lists forwards to kiss Stiles yet again, softly and soundly.

“I like to think I’ve made up for it since then,” he says quietly.

-

Low pressure tags ❤️ @dear-massacre @eevylynn @evanesdust @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop

@raisesomehale @renmackree @thotpuppy @violetfairydust @quackquackcey

[cayleeuhithinknot]

❛ TENT TEMPTATIONS ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉. . .during a fun camping trip with your friends, you end up bonding with the person you swore you hated. all over a tent.

cw: SMUT WITH PLOT, making out, unprotected p in v (wrap it please), cursing, use of pet names and y/n, oral (m receiving), getting caught kinda (oop), hair pulling, bigdick!chris (oop), softdom!chris and sub!reader. and probably more but i might’ve forgot😭 also not proofread (SORRY)

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

“who’s idea was this again?” madi asks, the sound of her boots mushing on the soil like nails on a chalkboard.

“chris. who else would choose something as dumb as this to spend our weekend doing?” you reply, trudging through the leaves and branches. chris scoffs, shoving you lightly.

“you might wanna hit the gym more, y/n. i’m chilling.” he boasts. and very evidently, chris is lying. the sweat beading up and trickling down the side of his face, the way he took ragged breaths, and the pink hue forming on his pale skin were all indications that the stupid, exhausting trip up to your camping site was getting to him.

just like it was getting to you and the other 3.

usually, the triplets will drag you around to do all this stuff in the woods. but, madi? she doesn’t get out in the wilderness much. not necessarily that you were very cut out for it either. madi seems to have it the worst out of the 5 of you.

she’s been complaining about it ever since the first hour of the trip.

nick and matt were taking it more dramatically than you’d expected. matt swears he’s some wilderness and nature expert, but once you bring him in the woods, he’ll start telling you that every little leaf—even the harmless ones—is poison ivy.

“oh my gosh, we need to take a break,” nick huffs, stopping in his tracks to bend down and rest his hands on his thighs. “i know right—chris, how much longer?” matt agrees, expectantly turning to look at chris for an answer.

“an hour. how many times have i told you guys that it’s a 3 hour trip?” chris snaps back, making you roll your eyes.

this omniscient, cocky, egotistical attitude of his was starting to make you mad. he’d been acting this way the entire trip. going on and on about how he was the “leader” or something. and you’d have to endure it for a grand total of 2 days.

so far, you’ve been putting up with it for 2 hours straight, and you’ve gotten to the point where one singular impertinent comment or remark will make you burst.

it’s worse than the sun burning your scalp, your achy back, and your sweat ruining your freshly washed hair. so much for that everything shower the night before…

“we’re not taking another fucking break, nick! just push through.” chris follows up.

madi rolls her eyes too, shooting you a look to which you just shrug. a snarky “i told you so” rests at the tip of your tongue. it wasn’t your idea after all. when chris first proposed this idea to you, you’d warned him that this was how it was gonna go. but, of course, he didn’t listen.

you were no stranger to his stupid endeavors. in fact, you were possibly the person that was the most familiar with his sometimes irritable personality.

but, was he your bestfriend?

one might call him that.

but, is he also incredibly annoying and you can’t stand to be alone with him for more than 20 minutes?

yes. yes, he is.

the final hour passes, but it feels like 3 more with each aching step.

“this the campsite?” madi asks. she’s out of breath and water, just like everyone else.

“yeah,” you manage to get out, taking in the scenery and the woodsy smell.

“dude, this is crazy!” matt shouts, excitedly wrapping his arms around nick’s neck and ruffling his hair. this was right up matt’s alley.

“ouch, dude—yes, yeah, so cool” nick agrees, attempting to pry his brother off of him.

the near 3 hours of what felt like the five stages of grief were instantly made worth it after all.

the sparkling lake in the very back, the colorful flowers and whimsical trees, the animals chirping?

it’s beautiful, mesmerizing, and screams relaxation.

oh, who are you kidding? nothing could repair 3 ongoing hours of enduring christopher sturniolo.

“alright, let’s set up tents,” you sigh, stepping toward the grassy patch under a nice shady tree.

“i want that spot,” chris says, standing right in front of you. “too bad. take that one.” you say, pointing to the tree beside yours with a tight-lipped smile. chris scoffs at that, messing up your hair before walking past to the tree you’d pointed at.

you irritatedly readjust your hair, watching nick and matt goof around and nearly pushing each other into the glistening lake.

“i wish i was that careless…” madi mumbles to you, shaking her head as she watches them as well. “me, too…” you agree, fumbling with one of the tents bars.

everything had been going dandy with the set-up process of your tent. but, one bar simply won’t stay where it needs to.

frustrated, you drop the bar in the grass, watching half of the tent cave in on itself as you crouch down to try and further examine the issue. a couple of footsteps can be heard from behind you, a chuckle accommodating them.

“need help with that?” chris asks, getting down to your level, his eyes scanning the scattered pieces in the dirt.

“obviously.”

chris tsks, hands going straight to work to reassemble your tent. you can tell he’s making an effort to stay focused in your presence, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, his tongue every now and then darting out to swipe over his pink lips.

your eyes travel down to his veiny hands working on building this contraption. “you done?” he taunts, waving his hand in front of your face.

“huh?—“

chris clicks his tongue, an amused smirk spreading across his face.

“i said are you done?” he repeats himself, and you just now notice that he’s finished setting up your tent. “with what?” you ask, already deeply annoyed with this attitude he’s carrying.

“staring. if you want me so bad, just tell me. use that loud mouth for somethin’ useful, yeah?”

“ew, you’re gross. thanks for the help, but i won’t be sucking your dick in return.”

his smile is insufferable. that low, cocky tone he uses and the way he leans in closer just to tease you.

“how cute. i didn’t even mention that. but, now i guess i know what goes on in your head, huh?” he hums lowly before standing up, leaving you all by your lonesome on the ground.

“oh god, shut up” you scoff. he laughs at you, jogging off toward the rest of the group.

that night, the 5 of you come across a slight problem.

“so, what you’re saying is…you need to go to the store?” chris groans, plopping down in one of the folding chairs you’d brought.

madi nods, “dude, we totally thought one of us had brought the bag of food!”

“for the record, madi and i were fully convinced that nick had it. but, i guess he’s a little…forgetful at times.” matt defends.

“and you’re noticing that now?” you reply, your eyes practically rolling back into your skull.

today, it’s really starting to seem like everyone here shares the same half of a braincell.

“well, no—but, i mean, it was too late anyway—“ nick protests, rubbing the nape of his neck.

you’d all come to the conclusion that nobody managed to bring anything except for the chips that chris had, of course, eaten on the hike to the camp site.

chris pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing with evident frustration.

“now what?”

crickets. literally.

“guys, cmon” you chime in.

madi looks at her phone, “i could call a cab to the main street? it’s only a 25 minute walk there through the woods.”

matt and nick hum.

“okay, sounds like the best option.” you sigh, twirling your hair around your finger. chris looks up at you from his seat.

“yeah, we’ll set up the fire and you guys go to the—“

“no way.” you scoff, looking at chris with wide eyes. he responds with an annoyed laugh, running his hands over his thighs. “seriously?”

“dead serious,” you nod.

silence, once again…

chris practically shoots up from his chair and takes off to the campfire. and for the very first time, the air feels heavy. you awkwardly look back to the other 3, who are staring at you like some deer in headlights.

“yeah, uhm, just go. i’ll take care of him.” you shake your head and they nod, say their goodbyes, and make their way back through the woods to the main street.

a pit forms in your stomach, anxiety creeping up your body as you approach chris. you’ve never felt bad for insulting or bickering with him, mostly because he always returned the behavior.

but this time? it was different. this time, it hurt. something shifted inside of you when you saw his icy blue eyes glimmer, almost like he was hurt himself.

the way his jaw clenches when you approach his visibly angry figure makes you shiver, even in this warm weather.

“what?” he snaps, breaking a branch and throwing the pieces into the little stack he’d created.

“im sorry,” you mutter, the attitude still evident in your voice. there’s a pause.

“you piss me off so much,�� he says, locking his eyes on yours. his eyes are dark, almost intimidating. the air gets heavier now. you try to ignore it. ignore the goosebumps creeping onto your arms from his voice.

“we’re equal then.”

his tongue grazes the inside of his cheek, eyebrows furrowing.

“no, we’re not. we can’t be.”

the anger inside you boils up quickly. “why? because you’re so much better than everyone?” you spit.

"no. because you think i'm insufferable and you don't want me around" he replies, cutting you off.

“what’s not equal about that? you literally hate me-"

“shut up" he says, this time fully cutting you off.

“excuse me?" you laugh out in disbelief,

“i said shut up.”

“you know what? no, because-"

"oh my god will you shut up? ‘I hate you?’ Are you insane?" borderline yelling, his eyes never leave yours, staring you down.

this time, you really don’t have anything to say.

“i ‘hate you’?” he quotes you. “seriously? like i haven’t obviously been in love with you for years? like i can’t take my eyes off you, like the only reason i ‘show off’ is to impress you? like it doesn’t hurt my feelings when you act like it’s the worst thing in the world to be near me?” he rambles.

the words leave his mouth so quickly, neither your mind or his can really catch up. panting, he looks up at you, nervously biting his lower lip, seemingly realizing what he’d just admitted to.

he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“look, i—“

“chris.” now, it’s your turn to interrupt him.

“yea?”

“if you don’t kiss me right now, i’ll kill you.”

at your words, he wastes no time ruthlessly crashing his lips into yours, grabbing you by the waste with greedy hands and pressing your body up to his.

his lips are needy, eagerly dancing against yours, a groan slipping out here and there. you sigh softly, your hands finding his stubbled jaw to pull him impossibly closer.

his teeth bite at your lower lip, making you open up just enough for him to easily slip his tongue in, exploring the new area. a couple of minutes—which felt like days—go by until he breaks it, ragged and heavy breathing coming from the both of you. he rests his forehead against yours.

“holy shit,” you whisper, making a smirk creep across his face before he connects your lips once more. “i need you so bad.” he murmurs into your mouth.

you pull away this time, hands on his shoulders as you take in the beautiful view in front of you. his swollen pink lips, his barely illuminated face, his tousled hair. “if this whole thing was just your tactic to get me to fuck you, you’re gonna drown in that lake.” you laugh, slapping his shoulder lightly. he rolls his eyes, hoisting you up in his arms and making his way to his tent.

“unfortunately, i am embarrassingly madly in love with you, but if you don’t wanna fuck—“

you shut him up by kissing him. “don’t ruin the mood.” you say as he sets you down and you climb into his tent on all fours. his eyes trail down to your ass, how it hangs out of your shorts. he follows in after you once you situate yourself.

as soon as he comfortably gets in next to you, his hands find your hips. “we don’t have a lot of time, pretty. i’ll make it up to you when we get home, yeah?” he says, pulling your shorts and panties down at the same time. you bite your lip, the sound of him taking off his pants adding to your excitement.

“it’s okay chris, i’m as desperate as you are.” your words earn a slap on your ass from him. “so did you imagine sucking my dick?” he teases, grabbing at the soft plush of your ass. “many times.”

chris pulls off his boxers and your eyes travel down, widening at his size. his dick frees from it’s entrapment, tapping his stomach. you hungrily gaze at the precum beading at his tip, it’s an angry pink. “you wanna make those fantasies come true, hm?” he asks, a grin creeping across his face. you nod eagerly, causing a dry chuckle to lowly leave his lips. “c’mon then.”

you get down so that you’re level with his dick and rest your hands on his thighs. you grab the base of it, kitten licking at the tip to tease him a little. you lick a few stripes from bottom to top, earning a guttural groan from chris. he shifts his hand into your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “c’mon, y/n.”

you chuckle before slowly taking his length into your mouth. tears immediately start to prick at your eyes. not that you cared, though. chris notices this and gives you some reassurance. “you’re okay, doin’ so good f’me. breathe through your nose, yeah?”

he starts to move your head up and down himself, letting out low moans. “you okay if i go faster, baby?” he asks. you know he’s obviously hoping for a yes. you manage an “uh-huh” and at your words, he’s immediately picking up the pace. the riskiness, the built-up tension, the feel of your mouth around his dick, the sound of your chokes, all of it. it just brings him closer and closer to the sweet release.

“ah, fuck—‘m so close, baby, gonna let me cum in your pretty mouth, hm?” he groans, tossing his head back. once again, you manage a response. “good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters, thrusting his dick into your mouth. next thing you know, a warm, thick liquid is shooting down your throat. he pull you off of him and you swallow the remnants of his orgasm. “did s’good f’me, baby.” he praises, stroking you cheek with his thumb.

“gonna let me fuck you? gonna let me fuck that pussy i’ve been dreamin’ about?” he asks, his fingers trailing down to your pussy. he runs his finger through your slickness, stopping to rub your clit. “y-yes, yes, please” you beg, stuttering over your words at the feel of his finger on your clit.

“mhm, i thought so.” he says, flipping you over. he runs his tip up and down your slit, eliciting a whine to fall from your lips. he finally positions himself at your entrance, teasing you some more. “fuck, you’re so sexy, can i pull your hair?” he groans, positioning his hands on your hips momentarily. “damn, you freak, yeah, you can,” you reply.

a strangled moan leaves your lips when he pushes his entire length into you, one of his hands keeping it’s grip while one goes up to your hair again, gathering it up to pull on it. “fuck, you’re so tight—you’re not a virgin, are you baby?” he huffs, keeping his pace slow for the time-being.

you breathlessly giggle between moans, gripping at the fabric of the tent floor. “no—i’m not, you’re just—fuck—huge,” you manage. he throws his head back again, pulling on your hair while his hips pick up speed significantly, hitting that spot inside you over and over again.

the both of you are trying to keep your moans down, given that there’s another campsite nearby. yours are muffled by the floor of the tent, chris’ low growls only loud enough for you to hear. “you feel so good—i’ve wanted to fuck this tight pussy for ages,” he mutters, letting go of your hair momentarily to harshly pull your hips back against him, making you meet his thrust half way.

your knees felt weak, pressing into the ground beneath you. the string in your stomach starts to pull, signaling that you were getting closer. “you’re mine now, right baby? my pretty pussy, my girl?” you let out a high-pitched “yes”, a borderline squeal, followed by a plea of his name. “gonna cum?” he growls, pushing himself as deep as he can inside of you.

you only manage to nod. you’re mind’s practically gone blank, the only thing roaming it is the feeling of chris inside of you. the “string” inside of you is starting fray, threatening to snap any minute. “f-fuck!” you squeal, slapping a hand over your mouth as the string finally snaps. your legs shake, your whole body practically convulsing as you cum on his dick.

“mhm, fuck—‘m cummin’, baby,” chris purrs. his moans are deep, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, just to help the both of you ride out your highs. spurts of his cum coat the walls of your cunt, and you can feel it shooting deep inside of you. a few minutes of silence pass as he rests inside of you. but then, he pulls out, watching the strings of your arousal disconnect from your cunt and cover his entire shaft.

he gently rubs his thumbs over your hips before flipping you back over onto your back. you smile up at him weakly, watching as he cleans the both of you up carefully. he was using a spare towel that was originally for the lake. he pulls your panties and shorts back onto you, slipping his boxers and pants back on afterward. he lays down next to you.

“i, uh..i left marks on your hips. does it hurt? i didn’t really realize how hard i was, uh…gripping.” he asks worriedly, peppering kisses on your cheeks. you shake your head, reassuringly intertwining your hand with his.

“it’s okay. kinda weird to see you bein’ nice, wow.” the urge to tease him returns of course, nudging his nose with yours. chris bites your cheek playfully, then he smothers your face with wet kisses. “stooooop” you whine as a wide smile cracks across your face.

“i’m obsessed with you, jeez, you don’t even know.” he mumbles, cupping your face in his hands.

“should we like…knock or something?” matt says awkwardly.

the 3 of them stand maybe 2 yards from your tent. and they have been for the past 20 minutes, bags in each hand.

“uhm…sure?” madi replies.

“well, at least we know they get along now…” nick sighs, turning around to make his way back to the campfire.

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

a/n: hi hi!! this was like so fun to write wtf?? i know some of it doesnt make a lot of sense😭 but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!! pleaseee leave requests and asks thank u!!<3 love uuu

tags: @sturn-saturn @xysbree @sturniolos4life16 @emely9274 @pearlzier

[hahaifolded]

Can We Make This Work? (6)

Nanami Kento x POC!Fem Reader x Gojo Satoru (Masterlist) Chapter 6: Teacher and Student (Previous) (Next) Summary: Gojo pisses you off. You decide to help a student with his homework. Warnings: Off-handed comment, POLL AT THE END!

The brisk morning air felt nicer today. It was probably because you no longer held the weight of a failing marriage on you. Instead, just a failed one. But, it looked like you’ll be able to save one person of this cursed union as you might be able to free your husband of it and enter in a better… another marriage. 

Wanting to give your husband some of his freedom back, you decided to take an early mission today in the outskirts of the city. Which explains why you found yourself wandering through an empty warehouse so early this morning. That’s one way to start the day. 

The information seems to be right, you thought. The energy in the place signaled the presence of a first-grade curse. You spat out one of your own, a weird long-snout creature that you had picked up in Mexico, to locate the thing. Within a matter of seconds, your special-grade found the first-grade curse and held it down. The first-grade curse reeked of sorrow and rage. Your curse kept attacking the sad curse until the thing could no longer walk. It laid on the floor, crying and struggling in agony.

You crouched down to look at the curse. It’s weak enough, you observed. You placed a hand on it and began to caress it. You hated how your cursed technique worked. In order to absorb a curse, you first had to weaken it and then understand the root cause that caused its creation. Sometimes you’re able to understand what caused the curse, and other times, you couldn't. This one was easy to pinpoint as you could tell it was the product of the poor working conditions that this place used to uphold. 

Now your least favorite part. You brought the withering thing up to your face. 1 - 2 - 3, gulp. You gagged. Not the worse, but not great either. Taking in a deep breath, you sighed, realizing that you still had your special-grade out. To your annoyance, the thing wagged its tail, almost as if it was taunting you. Let’s get this over with. You shrunk and swallowed the thing.

After dry heaving, you felt a strong presence behind you. You whipped around and got into a fighting stance. Fuck. This wasn't good. The one downside of your technique was that after swallowing a curse, you're energy-less for roughly 5 minutes, leaving you completely vulnerable to any sudden attacks. Usually it’s never an issue as you always wait to swallow a curse until you’re done. But you were so caught up in your thoughts this morning, you missed this sudden burst of energy. You stood straight, arms out, ready to survive for the next few minutes. However, as soon as it appeared, it disappeared, leaving you dumbfounded. But as soon as you relaxed, you felt it again, much stronger now, right behind you.

Two hands landed on your shoulders. “Boo!” a voice yelled. You swung behind you, but instead of making contact with whatever was behind you, your fist stopped midair. You refocused your gaze and realized what who loomed behind you.

“Gojo?” you asked in a surprised tone. You didn’t expect to run into your husband’s “friend” out here. From what you recalled, you were the only sorcerer assigned on his mission. "What are you doing here?"

Gojo smiles and takes a good look at you. You couldn't see his eyes, but you didn't like the way his head scanned you up and down. "Just wanted to check up on our newest toy. Make sure it wasn't defective, but just my luck, you're better than I expected," he praises. Or at least, what he thought was praise.

He notices the way your body tenses up and your stare goes cold. Gojo wasn't stupid. He knew you were upset, but he really had no idea why.

Toy? It? You couldn't believe the gall on this man. You were a living, breathing human being, not some object that needs to be tested.

You got in his face. “You might think you're something just because the society here told you, but you're just like the rest of us...a fuckng pawn." You hiss out that last word. You weren't scared of him. Powerful or not, he was just a man at the end of the day. "So you better watch who you call a toy." You stare straight at his blindfold.

Gojo was speechless. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't mean to offend you. He was trying to be cheeky. This completely dampened his plans of befriending you. "Wait, no, I didn't-- I think this was a misunder--"

"Don't care. Whine to someone who will," you snap, turning your back on him. He can kill me if he wants. At this point, it'll be a favor.

You leave the warehouse angry by the interaction while Gojo stands there feeling guilty.

-- -- --

After a quiet morning, Nanami went on with his day, feeling like something was missing. He assumed it was because he had a hard time falling asleep. It's not everyday you talk about aiding in finding another husband for your wife. Feeling restless, he decided to eat his lunch outside, hoping the sun would calm his nerves.

And it seems like he wasn't the only one who thought that as he found you sitting in the courtyard.

"(Y/N), how are you?" he asked as he approached you. You titled your heads towards him, but made no effort to greet him. That's odd. "Everything okay?"

You let out a deep breath. "Yes, sorry. Hi Nanami." Nanami tried to dwell too much on the fact that you called him by his name instead of your preferred nickname for him, husband. "Sorry, just not feeling well."

"Oh, have you eaten lunch yet?" he asked, taking a seat right next to you.

"Can't." Why? Nanami stares at you, waiting for a further explanation.

You groan. "Had a mission this morning. And every time I absorb a curse, it just messes up my stomach. So I'm really not in the mood to eat right now." You deflate in your seat.

Oh. Now that he looked back on it, that explained why you would sometimes cook dinner, but not eat any of it. He felt bad for not asking you about it earlier.

Trying to ease his guilt, he changed the subject. "Well, how did your mission go then?"

"Fine. First-grade curse, nothing too difficult," you said mindlessly. Suddenly, you scowled as you further recalled your mission. "Ran into your friend actually," you grumbled out.

"Friend?"

"Gojo," you gagged as you said his name. Just by saying his name, Nanami felt a headache coming on. He asks what happened and you tell him. After recounting your story, Nanami lets out a deep breath.

"He means well but has a funny way of showing it," he reasoned. You scoff, clearly not content with that. Wait, Gojo might actually be useful here? "You know, Gojo is single and comes from a good family. Maybe--"

"Pass." Got it. Before Nanami can say anything else, he hears someone calling his name.

"Nanamin!"

-- -- --

You look over to see one of the first-years running towards your husband Nanami. Itadori?

"Itadori," Nailed it. "How's the project going?" The smile on his face disappears.

"Not great. Everyone keeps rejecting me," he admits, scratching the back of his head. You furrow eyebrows, confused by the conversation. Thankfully, Nanami notices.

"Itadori, (Y/N), my... my wife. (Y/N), Itadori, one of the first-years here. He has to interview a sorcerer for a school project." Itadori quickly waves at you, wide smile back on his face. You wave back. You ask why Nanami hasn't helped.

Yuji jumps in. "Gojo said that I have to expand my horizons and ask other sorcerers for help besides your husband." You notice Nanami still at that. Fuck, I have to find a new husband... fast.

"Any sorcerer?" Yuji nods. Not seeing the big deal, you offer to help.

You didn't think the boy could smile any brighter. "Really? You're a literally a life-saver. I don't think I could have taken another no."

He seems like a nice kid and it's not that hard to answer a couple of questions. "Am I missing something here? How come everyone said no?" Nanami and Yuji both look at you in disbelief. Itadori breaks the silence with a laugh. You stare at him until he realized you weren't joking.

"Cause you know?" You tilt your head. Yuji looks at Nanami for support. He looks back at you and continues, "Cause of Sukuna."

"What's that?" Both of their jaws dropped.

Nanami starts. "What do you mean 'what's Sukuna'?" Yuji starts to stutter.

What's their deal? "Yeah, what's that? Is it some disease or something?" Suddenly a deep voice came out of nowhere.

"The only disease here is this that you call humanity," it hisses. You feel an increase in energy from the boy. You take a good look at him and notice the second mouth that sprouted on his face. Was that always there?

You stand up and grab the boy's chin. You turn his face to get a good look at the second mouth hat sprouted on his cheek. Nanami stands up, but keeps his distance, unsure of how this will play out.

"Yeah, this is Sukuna. He's some old curse user-turned curse that lives inside--" But before Yuji can finish his explanation, you do the unimaginable. You stick your finger in the mouth.

Sukuna gags. "HOW DARE YOU?" he roars. You go in to stick your finger again, but the mouth disappears before you can.

Nanami was baffled. "You did not just stick your finger inside of Ryomen Sukuna's mouth?" You wipe your finger across the boy's shirt. He yells in disapproval.

"Seems like you got a curse in you. You should probably get that checked or something," you say.

"Aren't you scared?" Yuji couldn't believe it. You didn't even cower or shy away from him or Sukuna.

"Why would I? It's clear you got a good hold on him. Besides he wouldn't be the first person who's tried killing me so nothing new really." Itadori just stares at you, stars shining in his eyes. You didn't expect to get such a reaction out of the boy. You look at Nanami who is also looking at you with starry eyes.

"Okay... how about that project?" you announce, trying to break both of them from their trance. That seems to do the trick as Yuji comes to.

"Oh yeah, let me pull out the questions that Gojo wanted me to ask," he informs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You visibly cringe. Ewe, I forgot Gojo is his teacher.

Word Count: 1791

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Notes: I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY! Trust me I love this story, I just got sidetracked with other thoughts. But here is the long awaited chapter 6!

Also y'all can't tell me you never thought about sticking something in Sukuna's mouth?

Also I don't know if y'all noticed but I changed tenses here. I began in past tense but then switched to present towards the end. What do y'all prefer? I'm leaning towards present, but would love to hear your thoughts. Here's a poll so it's easier to hear from y'all:

[lestappenforever]

hey mona how are you feeling? how did the surgery go? <3

Hello, anon! You're so sweet for asking, and my apologies for the slightly delayed response here! Yesterday became a bit more stressful than I had hoped for. 😅

Putting this under a 'Read more' just so people who don't want to read about stuff like this can avoid it. TW: Mentions of blood.

I'm feeling pretty well! No pain or discomfort yet, so that's good. A little bit tired due to the blood loss and the overall stress of last night, but overall I'm feeling good.

The surgery itself went really well! It took a bit longer than anticipated as the surgery was performed by a surgeon in training, so there was a lot of consulting with the attending surgeon and double checking everything that was being done. But, the surgeon in training, the attending surgeon and the nurse who was there to look after me were all so incredibly sweet! They talked me through everything they were doing, explained every step and what to expect, and they were so generous with the anesthesia that I didn't feel any pain or discomfort during the procedure itself. And the nurse did an amazing job at keeping me distracted while the surgeon was burning away the affected parts of my cervix.

Due to how I started bleeding immensely a few days after my biopsy in June, they gave me prescription for pills with tranexamic acid to stop bleeding from organs and advised me to start taking them after the surgery, which I did. They also put like 3 meters of gauze up there that I had to leave in for four hours.

But, when I removed the gauze as instructed four hours later, I started bleeding a lot. Much, much more than I did after my biopsy, and I was honestly pretty terrified. So I called the hospital, they told me to come back and I did, which was good because it turns out a blood vessel had ruptured that was causing the bleeding, and it wouldn't have stopped on its own. (And the pills can't stop bleeding from a ruptured blood vessel.)

The sweetest gynecologist checked me out and discovered the ruptured blood vessel, and put in two stitches to close it. That bleeding stopped right away when he did, and that was that. I'm not gonna lie, that was quite painful at times, but it was also necessary. So I'm very happy that I called the hospital and was asked to come in, and now I feel completely fine!

And as stressful and scary as yesterday ended up being, it's a million times better than not doing any of it at all. I'd get a thousand stitches and go through a hundred procedures to remove parts of my cervix as long as that results in a seriously reduced risk of at some point developing ovarian cancer.

So moral of the story: Don't skip your Pap smears, take your health seriously, and listen to your body when it's telling you something is wrong because, most likely, you'll be right. Don't fuck around and find out with your health, please. ❤️

[bloggingboutburgers]

cw: discussions of bullying and aphobia

Hearing aroace peoples' existential crises over their friends discussing crushes, as someone who was socially isolated and severly bullied for their whole childhood and most of their adolescence so had NO friendgroup until adulthood and NO community or inclusion in literally anything (and when it came to sex and romance the other kids explicitly considered my potential involvement in either to be impossible / laughible because of how "weird" they found me (my autistic traits before I even realised I'm autistic)), felt like starving while listening to someone else complain about the food they're actively eating.

Food intolerances and dislike of different foods (as metaphor for being aro/ace) ARE important and difficult to grapple with when you're expected to eat specific foods in specific proportions at different times - but man did it sting until I realised why I felt that way and gave myself a talking to since my trauma doesn't justify belittling the very real struggles of aroace people.

I guess since the choice between 'stay alone or conform' was never really a choice because I was rejected no matter how cis straight or allo I was it taught me to go "fuck it" and accept myself regardless of what other people do or say (which ironically has lead to me becoming dramatically popular all of a sudden at uni, which has been weird to get used to since I have literally no experience with any of this - platonic or otherwise - which did lead to some advantage being taken of me but f*ck it we ball ^^'). And I guess it's just been difficult understanding why anyone would care so much about whether they're "normal" or not? You really have nothing to gain from that, safety is not guaranteed in conformity so best to live aroace and damn all aphobes to hell if they have a problem with that.

It's a mindset I'll never understand and that's only ok now insofar as that lack of understanding no longer results in misplaced anger at people who, for a time, I had once considered spoilt, ungrateful and out of touch. Basically, I'm full of sh*t and to every aroace person reading this you deserve good friends that actually respect you for who you are and do not even TRY to get you to change your mind about sex or romance. Have a lovely day x

Sincerely,

An aggressive emotional support anon

I'm genuinely sorry for all the hardships you went through. I don't mean to equate at all, truthfully from reading you and considering I WAS asked some of those questions as a kid regardless (the "who's your crush" bullshit and whatnot), it definitely sounds like I had it less hard than you did, but... I was bullied in elementary school and middle school, also not necessarily because I was aroace (I don't know why it happened really, I don't know if anyone ever knows, I boil it down to... me being me and there being something fundamentally wrong with me ig), and I definitely also get some of those feelings of "oh boo hoo you call that struggle" boiling in me when people discuss their own past struggles sometimes, so... Yeah, every one person's experience is unique, but I can at the very least very much sympathize.

I think a way it manifests in me is that I now have that compulsive, debilitating fear of being "othered" in any way, shape, or form, so I guess being aroace doesn't help my case. But at the same time... Well, like you brilliantly put it, when you're in a situation like that, no matter what you do, you won't be accepted anyway, and having that knowledge back then is probably also what lead me to figure myself out as aroace so early in life. Because I was treated as this much of an outsider, I ironically had that much room in my own head to form my own identity, far apart from others and the need to conform. Yeah, that identity may include a "piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be supported of part of a group" side that's been forced in, buried deep down and can't be erased, but... It also includes asexual and aromantic, and it's been cemented so hard from so early with such self-affirmation that later down the line, it saved me from a lot of stuff. I never had to force myself into a romantic or sexual relationship because I was undoubtably aroace – and people saw me as an outsider and an eyesore anyway. I spent years of being scared to go to school or out in the street every day, but later down the line, somehow, I feel it saved me from doing so many things I wouldn't have wanted to do.

...Bleh, sorry, didn't mean to turn this into me-me-me crap when you had the courage and sincerity of not only showing your experience, but finding the strength to show more love, understanding and support than a lot of people probably cared to give you for so long, despite all the pain you felt for so long. I guess I just wanna say... This take is definitely inspiring, so thank you on behalf of myself and others I'm sure, but also... I hope that, for yourself, you're also managing to own what you lived through in a way that allowed you to affirm yourself more strongly (it sounds like you are, I hope it IS the case), and most importantly, I hope you're in a much better place in your life now and you'll never have to return to that level of loneliness again.

[meli-meliai]

Something something Seth proclaiming himself as the “Avatar of Woe“- which basically means that he is calling himself the demonic Embodiment of it. Now, the word “woe“ can mean two things: great troubles that cause distress OR feelings of misery, sadness, and sorrow.

Now, knowing Seth and his whole “Infernal Demonic Prince of Darkness” schtick, it’s easy to believe that he likely meant the “troubles” definition. After all, isn’t the whole POINT of a soul-stealing demon is to cause woes on humanity? It’s SO obvious… but then again, what if it wasn’t?

He is the self-proclaimed Avatar of Woe, and he takes sinful pride in the fact that he steals souls and causes difficulties, troubles for humanity. But being the Avatar of Woe means that he must repersent ALL parts of it; and that includes the misery and sorrowful aspect of Woe. And really, if he IS a fallen angel and the son of the First Man, isn’t Woe the entire reasn why he was born? After the very first murder that befell upon Abel, and the tragedy of the betrayal of Cain, Seth was born to mend the family’s broken heart. I wonder if that fact weighed heavily on him, as despite the misery and sorrow inflicted on his family that he needed to fix, he also wouldn’t have been BORN if it weren’t for that sorrow. For the Woes that affected his family, the Creator of Mankind commanded that he be born to alleviate that pain. If not for the death- or rather SACRIFICE- of his older brother, Seth would have never been created in the first place.

There’s also the matter of his OTHER self-proclaimed title: Demon of the Abyss. This could simply be a reference to the Hell that he lives in, or perhaps a specific circle. But then again… that would make MANY, if not the entire infernal populaton of Hell, a “Demon of the Abyss”. So why would such a powerful Infernal Prince use such a common title?

The word “Abyss”, of course, repersents the pitch-black pits of Hell. In the Bible (I’m not sure which passage but I think that it’s rom 2 Peter 2) it’s said that any angel who sins will be swiftly cast down to the Abyss (or, in Greek, Tartarus, which means the same thing) where they wil be “bound by chains of gloomy darkness” which can be interpreted to mean that they have become demons, unable to ever see the light of day (unless they accumulate enough power to break out or figure out another way) or the Gates of Heaven ever again.

According to the 3rd chapter of the Book of Enoch, it is reported that several angels who had committed the holy crime of lusting after humanity were punished by God who commanded that they be “bound hand and foot, nd cast them into the darkness. Make an opening in the desert, which is in Dudael, and cast them therein. And place on them rough and jagged rocks, and cover them in darkness and let them remain there for ever, and covr their faces so that they may not see light.”

Some of the most prevalent mentions of the Abyss regards fallen angels. Take Paradise Lost by John Milton, for example; the fallen angel Lucifer is cast into Hell and, according to Wikipedia, “braves the dangers of the Abyss alone, in a matter reminisenct of Odysseus or Aeneas.” So this might be a stretch, but many of the time when Hell is referred to as an “Abyss” is when an angel is cast down from Heaven and falls into the pitch-black depths. Playing up on Seth’s hubris and his love for double-meaning wordplay, it’s not unreasonable to assume that he chose this title as slight nod to his status as a fallen angel.

In the Bible, Seth is known to be compassionate and virtuous; he was the ancestor of Noah and the forefather of Mankind, and had many wives and children. But was he ever happy, knowing that his family was wrecked far before he came? For all his knowledge, did he know that mankind would blame his mother- and later all women- for eating the Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and bringing sin upon humanity? Was his heart ever empty, as no matter the amount of love he recieved from his family, it would never be enough to fill the gaping void that his older brothers- whom he had never met- left behind in a pool of blood?

If it weren’t for all the Woes that befell upon his family many years earlier, would he have ever been born?

Seth in the Bible had died at age 912, while BB Seth is stated to be 918 years old. Assuming that he stopped aging and/or stopped counting the passing years after he fell (and assuming, of course, that the “Hell’s Hottest Boy for 900 years running” was just a jest… which I HOPE so, since it would mean that his biological age is 18..) it would be likely that there was a 6-year-gap that he spent in Heaven before he fell, in which he would’ve had plenty enough time to sin and reel.

Moreover, Seth in the Bible was known to be an ideal son and a worthy heir to Adam’s linage. His bloodline,in contrast with Cain’s, was closer to God and thus survived the Great Flood while Cain’s bloodline did not. Despite this, however, he recieve very little recognition in contrast with his older brother rarely being mentioned or adknowledged at all. Even his descendant, Noah, recieved more fame than him. I wonder if this began to grate on him after a while? Perhaps that was his first sin: Envy.

And perhaps, long after he died and laid purposeless in Heaven, perhaps he spread his wings and looked upon humanity, thinking. Everyone he knew treated Eve’s consumption of the Apple of Knowledge as a huge, unforgivable sin, but when Seth looked at humanity all he could see was..

Excitement. Entertainment.

After all, what is happiness without sorrow? What is the greatest joy without the worst misery? He wouldn’t have existed without that misery, after all. And look at all the good he did for humankind! Look at all of the wonderful people that he raised! His heart swelled with Pride, which was quickly tempered by a thought:

“And no one even adknowledges it.”

No one paid him any mind at all, in Heaven. After all, his purpose was fulfilled and now he got to live in eternal Paradise forever! What more could he possibly want?

But Seth was bored. What was there to do now? He finally met his brother Abel, the Golden Child of his family and the favorite of his Grandfather… but he couldn’t even talk to him without Abel being swarmed by his own mother and father- not to mention all of the adoring angels who crooned after him in admiration. Seth felt the bitter taste of Envy in his throat as he looked at his shining brother. All he did was DIE, and yet people loved him so! Meanwhile, no one even bothered to spare a second glance at Seth. Abel seemed nice enough, but…

Seth was begininng to understand why Cain killed him.

And in the years that passed, he grew more resentful. Envious, because of the lack of adknowledgement or attention that no one bothered to give to him. Wrathful, for the way he was treated amd the burden that he had carried ever since he was a child. Prideful, as he looked at the Earth and witnessed all of his descendants, all of humanity, progressing despite the sins that plagued them. Would it be like this if they just stayed, eating fruit and wearing leaves in the Garden? Of course not? Sin pushed humanity to progress and provided an endless source of entertainment for him, the only kind he had in Heaven.

The Great Flood didn’t happen when he was still in Heaven.

He began sympathizing with the OTHER brother he had never met: Abel. He was beginning to understand him now. How the sins he committed were not his falt, how harsh the rules of the Lord can be. Seth wanted, more than ANYTHING, to talk to him, just once. For him to have a confidant, a way to satiate his everending boredom. He wanted answers, the full story from both of the brothers. Maybe finally understanding his purpose, why he was born, what he was made for.

He still wasn’t completely gone during this time. If someone noticed, maybe he could have still been saved.

But no one noticed Seth.

And so, on December 11th, he devised a plan to bring Cain to Heaven.

He enlisted the help of Abel, thinking that he was a key factor to carrying out this plan.

His heart pounded in excitement, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

He hadn’t felt this exhilerated in eternity.

What he didn’t know… was this.

As Abel’s was the first murder, and Cain the first betrayal, the summoning for this demon was…unique.

Different.

Unexpected.

Yet so obvious.

“A soul… for a soul.”

After the ritual, they were caught.

The Creator of Humanity quickly fixed everything, so there was no lasting damage at all.

But Abel was the beloved, so someone must be blamed.

Eve sobbed and hugged her child tighter, looking at Seth with teary eyes stung with betrayal.

Adam stood there, shocked but full of fury, glaring daggers at his thirdborn son.

“Why would you do this. To US? To your BROTHER?!”

Seth glared right back, tears streaming down his face as he yelled out at his father in sorrow.

“Like it or not, Cain is my brother too! I was born to fix a unfixable family, racked with betrayal and sorrow. No matter what I did, I’ve never even come close to suceeding! The least I could do is find out WHY!”

Cain and Abel were at a loss, not because of Seth’s words, but because of the fact that they were boh staing at each other. Cain a demon. Abel an angel. Brothers.

Even when he was yelling nd screaming out loud, no one heard him.

And neither did the Father of Humanity.

The sky shook in fury.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone stared up a the sky in shock.

“SOMEONE MUST BE PUNISHED FOR THIS.”

All eyes turned to Seth for the very first time. And for a moment, he felt a sickining mix of euphoria and the sudden wish that he was invisible.

He was being adknowleged for the first time, and at what cost?

There was a sudden surge of excruitating pain from behind, and he watched in horror as his magnificent, pure white wings faded and began to motlt, scattering ink-black feathers everywhere. All of the spectating Angels hurriedly stepped back to avoid them.

His halo cracked and fell at his feet. Seth, dumbfounded, bent over to pick it up..

Only to cry out and double over in pain, as a terriying pair of red devil horns forced and ripped its way out of his head, and he watched in horror as blood started dripping out of his forehead. The surrounding Angels let out a horrifed gaspin unison, looking in fright as Seth’s previously warm brown eyes-filled with tears, started gradually turning red the more he cried. As if all of the life was being sucked out of him.

The feathers were still molting, revealing thin bones. He would no longer be able to fly.

He tried for words. Looking at his parents, he tried to beg, plead with his eyes for someone-anyone!-To help him.

But nobody came.

Even Cain looked horrifed.

“Mom…? Dad….?” Seth whispered weakly, fear seeping into his heart. Please. They were his parents, they loved him…

Didn’t they?

The Lord responded instead.

“YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME IN HEAVEN.”

And with that, (and with Abel), he fell.

And yes. If the scars were any indication…

It did hurt, when he fell from Heaven.

[aromantic-and-aromatic]

Honestly, I'm all for sephiroth and jenova being practically the same thing bc the repeated use of the word puppet by sephiroth himself feels very ironic and bitter. Telling cloud that he doesn't have emotions, that he was created in a lab and that his memories are fake, all of them. That he didn't have a childhood. Never was a child. And yeah, sephiroth being 100% in control and just very unwell also fits in this, in his projection over cloud being his puppet just like he was Shinra's, even though he would never acknowledge it. But I just like the idea that he believes himself freed from everyone's strings, finally in control of his own life for once, just to be too blind to realize that not even those choices were his own bc following orders is still the only thing he knows

[girlfailurefelix]

thinking about how while we all make the “doomed by the narrative” jokes about tony, it’s so much worse than that. the narrative tries so so hard to save him multiple times throughout the novella and yet his tunnel vision with the ggy mystery always leads him to doom himself

[aibouart]

admittedly, i am afraid to talk about this, but have wanted to for a long while. i don't see a lot of people discuss this kind of thing, but i decided to do so for the me who was struggling and didn't know. also i have no idea where i am going with this and it's very late for me rn so here's a whole ass ramble on vent art. and also a bit more on how it's impacting how i view my art, now. i am terribly sorry if it's not very cohesive, my thoughts on it aren't yet cohesive either WOOPS

i wanted to talk a bit about how vent art really impacted my mental health, and how the idea that art needs some kind of meaning to have meaning really has been weighing on me lately (i know this is a concept i am assigning to my work and is not actually the norm/standard expectation of others consuming art. but it IS a sentiment i have seen enough that does impact me).

i want to specify, obviously i am not saying vent art is bad.

nor that doing vent pieces, or vent blogs, will ultimately result in what i went through for a number of years. rather, that this did happen to me, and there is a near impossible chance i am a unique case in any experience i will ever have. if you do vent art and it helps you, that's good! im not judging anyone for anything here. if your experience does not match my own, that's what it's like to be human~. i am not invalidating anyone on purpose by sharing my own experience. sorry for the insane disclaimer but it will eat me alive if i go to sleep thinking "what if they think x cuz i didn't say y and think im a terrible person"

---

i used to do vent art frequently (you won't find much on here as it was uploaded to a personal at the time). anytime i felt down or had a line of dialogue in my head making me feel bad in a way, i would draw for it. but the way i had interacted with it was really unhealthy. it became a terrible feedback loop where i'd feel bad, draw how i felt bad, look at the art, and ruminate even more on how i felt bad, until it spiralled so out of control i would lose touch with reality and get lost entirely in feeling like garbage.

i would just get so lost in the cycle with vent art that it would make my mental space worse and worse, and i would use the vent art as a negative confirmation bias. the words that hurt me i wrote down and anytime i looked again, they would hurt me again. but i would keep looking, and i would keep drawing.

i have always used art as an outlet, but for some reason the way vent art impacted me was unhealthy. it wasn't a good outlet. and it took me years to cut ties with it. i relied on vent art for a long time, but it took a lot of introspection and thinking to realise it wasn't the release i thought it was. and it was hard to let go, too.

i haven't touched the blog in a few months, now. i haven't done much vent art at all since then and genuinely, i've been doing SOOO much better. i no longer ruminate nearly as much as i had done so, i no longer get caught in a feedback loop that lasts for days to weeks. i still feel like garbage like people tend to do, but i don't put myself in a cycle over it anymore. i have gone back to it a few times in moments of desperation, but what used to be every week/every few weeks is now once a month maybe. and not to the extent at all (i would oftentimes post ~20 images in one night, before).

but i keep thinking about how, while the way i had done vent art was bad for my mental health, i keep feeling that just because i do sparkly cute and happy drawings, now, or drawings with no real meaning, that my art has nothing beyond face value... i do like a lot of my vent art. i think their compositions, or hidden messages and meanings, or colour use, was interesting.

but it wasn't worth the price for me.

so i am a bit caught in an in-between, here. my favourite form of art is the expression of love-you liked something so much, you dedicated time to draw it. and yet i cannot ascribe that to my own work very often. i think that man i wish i could make art with some kind of deeper meaning, that speaks to people, that's more than just pretty colours or shiny shading or a character everyone likes, or a character i like. but i just... don't know if it's for me.

ultimately, i could develop a healthy relationship with expressing and exploring negative emotions or experiences through art, but... do i want to? do i have to? do i need to? is it not enough to just draw something because... i like it..?

of course, the answer is yes, draw what you want, draw how you want, it's your art. but i am still trying to come to terms with that idea. i dont want to be seen as some shallow artist who just draws what's cute and pretty because they can and it's all they can think of, but like what if that's just what i like to draw??

in the end, that alone is good enough, drawing because you like to, because it's fun, because you like the thing you're dedicating time to creating for. it's just hard to grapple with after discarding a type of art that i felt was the only way i drew "for real".

anyways i am sorry this is soooo fucking long, and for all the clarifications (IM STILL NOT SAYING VENT ART BAD AND EVERYONE WILL DO WHAT I DID!! Dx) and the fact i had no real point here (probably)

anyways i will continue to draw what i want because i like to, as i have always been.

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

No bc Frank hitting Debbie was literally so upsetting

Like she loved her dad in the first seasons, and always thought he could change, and idk him hitting the person who once loved him the most made my heart break :((

ok hi hello hi i was trying to respond to this and then LIKE A LITTLE BITCH tumblr deleted it soooo yeah ik this isn’t relevant but i want to bitch about it so i’m bitching about it so sorry if this post isn’t my best it’s a remake kinda

ANYWAYS

i was already sad about this, but then you said that, and now i’m even sadder. like, “hitting the person who once loved him the most” 😭😭

frank and debbie are so fucking complex… i’m writing about them right now and when i post it i’ll link it to this but like… god. they’re one of the saddest duos in shameless, in my humble opinion.

debbie fucking loved frank so much. she cared for him so so fucking much. she made sure he was safe at night, she waited for him, she joked with him, checked on him, fucking took care of him more than he took care of her because at this point, she was parenting him more than he was parenting her and in return she got empty promises.

i am a firm believer that what set debbie on her season 4 downfall was 3x02. she had already lost hope in monica from 2x12 (and kinda 2x11 but not really), but she still had hope in frank. she knew he was a shitty, abusive alcoholic who would never change but she still waited for him, still prayed for his return, still let him into their house and let him sleep in her bed. but then he and his friends destroyed and pissed in her room, and frank destroyed her project (that he refused to help her with) and suddenly… she’s just changed. like, a part of her dies and she just goes fucking crazy on him.

i think that for every gallagher child there was a point in their life where they just officially lost hope, and that was debbie’s.

and then in season 6 their relationship is mended almost? like, they spend a lot of time together, he’s the only one she has at the moment, and they go to that weird-ass place with queenie together (i forgot what it’s called sorry LMAO). like there’s a moment before she’s gonna give birth to franny where she says, “no daddy, please. i’m scared. i want to go home” and i like sobbed because she’s his fucking daughter and i ASSUMED that they might have a bond or something after that but… nope!

in season 7 he hits her.

and it’s like… okay, that’s your sixteen year old daughter. the one who waited for you. the one who brought you a pillow every night. the one who loved you the most. the one who named her daughter after you because she loved you. she gave you everything and you gave her nothing.

it’s giving, “he takes what he pleases and offers nothing” (fiona gallagher, 3x07).

and if we’re going to talk about frank hitting his kids, what about ian also? i don’t want this post to be about every character but since we’re on the subject i’ve gotta bring it up. he’s hit ian multiple times, and he’s done it off screen before too, apparently. i don’t even wanna hear y’all say “i think frank was a good dad he just-” like no. yeah, he got abused growing up, and i get the cycle of abuse, fuck peggy gallagher, yeah, yeah. but you guys know that’s not an excuse… right? frank is still a piece of shit. he’s a drunk and an addict, as well as a narcissist. he neglected and abused all of his children. don’t even try.

fuck frank gallagher.

i can’t believe some of y’all think debbie is worse than frank is. unbelievable.

[obstinatecondolement]

Not to be all "this is an Only Murders in the Building blog now" but apparently since yesterday I have reached a point of no longer being satisfied with being part of a two-person fandom irl with my sister and I need to Discuss things with you all.

Anyway. Currently thinking about how Theo Dimas is a) Greek and b) Deaf—both cultures that are very physically demonstrative—and that he is. Like that.