#I believe the person this came from was someone I once respected too for talking about ACTUAL RUSSIAN PROPAGANDA.

[simpxmachina]

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cai

harper spiller - OLIVE BRANCH

Growing up, you had always looked up to Cameron. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you believe that, despite his occasional harshness, he was a model of success and strength. He was your older brother, after all. To you, he seemed invincible, someone who commanded respect without ever needing to demand it. You admired him, respected him, and above all, you wanted to be seen by him—not just as his younger sibling, but as someone worthy of his attention and approval.

The earliest memories you had of him were filled with laughter, and the smell of barbecue drifting up from the backyard where your family would gather. Cameron, back then, would toss a ball your way, not really playing but letting you chase it as if you were his shadow. He never treated you with overt cruelty as a child. Instead, it was more insidious, the way he would, just by his silence, make you feel small and insignificant. He never said anything outright that would hurt, but when he did speak, you could tell that his words, always carefully chosen, were meant to remind you of your place.

You didn’t understand it back then. How could you? He was your brother. You were supposed to look up to him, follow his lead. And for years, you did.

The first crack in the illusion came when you started to carve your own path, when you began to make something of yourself. Modeling was never something you planned for, but the moment the opportunity came, you leaped at it. It was exhilarating—meeting powerful people, being part of campaigns that made headlines. At first, Cameron seemed supportive, like a proud older brother, but as your success grew, so did the distance between you.

He began to dismiss your career. Instead of congratulating you on your achievements, he made little comments, casual remarks that carried the sting of contempt. "Is this really what you want to be known for?" he asked once, his eyes narrowed over a glass of whiskey, the slight wrinkle between his brows deepening as if the idea of you becoming a successful model was somehow beneath him. "How long are you going to keep doing this?" It wasn’t about the work, though. It was about the fact that you were no longer the naïve younger sibling who followed in his footsteps, no longer the person he could easily look down on.

But you didn’t notice the shift immediately. At first, you didn’t see it at all. You were still blinded by the love you had for him. You wanted him to be proud of you, wanted him to see you as an equal. But Cameron never saw you as anything but an annoyance, something he had to tolerate.

You began to notice the little things. The way he dismissed your ideas, the way he never included you in the important decisions, the way he referred to your modeling career as “just a phase.” But there was one thing that really struck you—the way he talked about Harper.

It started slowly, a comment here and there, usually disguised as a joke. "You really think this... woman’s going to be the one?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "She’s nice enough, I suppose, but how much longer before she realizes that she could do better?"

But it wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t funny. It was an insult. And it became apparent that, in Cameron’s eyes, Harper—your wife, the woman you loved—was something beneath him. To him, she was an obstacle, an intrusion into his carefully constructed world. As you became more serious with Harper, the cracks in your relationship with Cameron grew. He began to openly dismiss her presence, make snide comments about her background, and even go so far as to suggest you were settling for someone "low class."

And you? You were too naïve to see it at first. You thought it was just sibling rivalry. You thought maybe he didn’t understand, that he was just being protective, but you couldn’t see that his disdain for Harper was a reflection of something much deeper. Cameron didn’t just dislike Harper—he resented her. Resented the way she had something he never would: your undivided attention, your loyalty, your love.

The invitation to Italy came with promises of family bonding, a chance to repair old wounds, to bring the family back together. It seemed like an olive branch from Cameron, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was more to it. A part of you sensed that his motives weren’t as pure as they appeared. You had long suspected that Cameron never really wanted a true reconciliation, but instead, he was looking for something else—something that had little to do with family and everything to do with control.

You and Harper arrived at the White Lotus Hotel in the heart of Italy, a place so lavish and beautiful that it made everything else feel insignificant. The sprawling gardens, the sparkling pool, the endless vistas of the Mediterranean—everything here screamed opulence and wealth. Everything, except for the tension that you and Harper couldn’t shake.

Cameron and Daphne were already there when you arrived. They greeted you with a certain air of cold politeness, their smiles just a little too practiced. You could feel the difference between how they treated you and how they treated Harper. With you, there was a strained familiarity. With Harper, there was the kind of insincerity that made you wonder if they even truly wanted her there at all.

Harper, of course, noticed it immediately. While you were busy taking in the sights and sounds of the hotel, Harper’s perceptiveness picked up on the subtle slights, the barely-there glances, and the tight smiles. She could feel it—the weight of being treated like an outsider in a place that should have felt like home. She had always been the type to put on a brave face, to swallow the harshness of people’s words, but here, in this hotel, surrounded by your family, it was different. Cameron’s eyes, as cold as ever, were trained on her, as if analyzing her every move, every word. Daphne’s insincerity was palpable, a smile that never reached her eyes, a politeness that never felt genuine.

"Y/n, darling, come here," Daphne called from the patio as she gestured for you to join them. You were standing a few feet away, talking with Harper, and immediately noticed her discomfort at the invitation. You shot her a glance—an unspoken question in your eyes. She simply nodded, her lips curving into a tight smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

You smiled back at Harper, wanting to reassure her, but there was a growing ache in your chest. You didn’t know how to make it better. You didn’t know how to fix this, the gap that was forming between you, the way Harper was withdrawing into herself more and more, the way Cameron and Daphne seemed to be pushing her away without so much as a second thought.

"You’re fine, go ahead," Harper said, her voice soft but firm. "I’ll be here."

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and made your way to the patio. The conversation shifted immediately, from lighthearted to calculated. Cameron’s voice was sharp, like a blade wrapped in velvet, as he casually commented on the beauty of the location.

"I’m glad you could finally join us, Y/n. This place is perfect, don’t you think? Not that it’s your style, Harper, but I’m sure you’re doing fine here," he said, his words loaded with double meaning. Cameron was a master of subtle insults, and he was very good at pretending to be the perfect host while undermining those he deemed inferior.

You could feel the atmosphere grow heavier with each passing minute. The elegant beauty of the White Lotus, the luxury, the perfection—all of it felt suddenly hollow, like a facade waiting to crumble.

Harper, from a distance, watched. And though she said nothing, you could see it in her eyes—the way she tried to hide her discomfort, the way she tried to smile through the pain. She didn’t belong here, not in the way Cameron and Daphne wanted her to. To them, she was an outsider. To you, she was everything.

---

The days at the White Lotus drifted by like a dream dipped in venom. The sunlight sparkled on the cerulean waves of the Mediterranean, and the scent of salt and lemon blossoms hung heavy in the air. Every corner of the hotel promised indulgence, from the infinity pool that melted into the horizon to the lush gardens bursting with color. It should have been paradise. But for you and Harper, it felt like something else entirely—a trap, carefully laid by Cameron and Daphne, and you were only beginning to sense the snare tightening around your ankles.

Cameron had always been a master at veiled manipulation. He never attacked outright, not in a way you could call out. Instead, he worked in the shadows, planting tiny seeds of doubt, the kind that took root in the quiet spaces of your mind and sprouted when you were most vulnerable.

It started over breakfast, the morning sun pouring in through the arched windows of the dining terrace. You had risen early, craving the coolness of the morning air before the Italian heat became oppressive. Harper had stayed behind in the suite, enjoying a rare moment to herself. When you arrived, Cameron was already there, lounging back in his chair, a casual arrogance in the way he sipped his espresso. Daphne sat beside him, her hair a perfect cascade over her shoulders, her smile wide and warm—too warm.

“Y/n,” Cameron said, leaning forward slightly as you took your seat. “We were just talking about you and Harper. How’s everything going between you two?”

There was nothing inherently wrong with the question, but his tone set you on edge. You reached for the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup as you tried to gauge his intent. “Good,” you replied simply. “We’re doing great.”

“Of course you are,” Cameron said, his grin sharp as a knife. “I mean, look at you. Successful career, beautiful wife. You’ve really... come a long way, haven’t you?”

The way he said it made your stomach twist. It wasn’t a compliment; it was a reminder. A reminder of the pedestal he had always put himself on, and the shadow he believed you’d always live in.

Daphne chimed in, her voice light and melodic, but her words carried their own weight. “Harper’s such a strong woman,” she said, a hint of surprise in her tone. “It must be hard for her, though, being around people like us. I mean, we’ve just... lived a certain kind of life, haven’t we, Cameron?”

Cameron chuckled, a low, smug sound that made your teeth clench. “True. It’s a different world for her, isn’t it? But, hey, credit to Harper for trying to fit in.”

“She doesn’t need to fit in...” you said in a small voice but still heard. The words hung in the air, and for a moment, both Cameron and Daphne stared at you, their expressions unreadable. You felt your heart racing, the blood pounding in your ears.

But the damage was done. The seed was planted. You didn’t want to admit it, but their words lingered in your mind long after breakfast. They weren’t wrong—Harper was different. She didn’t come from the kind of wealth or privilege that you and Cameron had grown up with. She didn’t have the polish or the connections that Daphne wore like armor. But that was part of why you loved her. Harper was real in a way they could never understand. So why did their words make you feel like you had to defend her?

And that evening, the four of you gathered on the terrace for dinner, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Harper sat beside you, her hand resting lightly on your knee, but there was a tension in her posture, a stiffness that hadn’t been there before. She had been quiet all day, her responses clipped and her smile forced. You couldn’t blame her. Cameron and Daphne had a way of making her feel like an outsider without ever saying it outright.

“So, Harper,” Cameron said, swirling his wine in his glass. “How’s work going? Still doing the whole... legal thing?”

“It’s going well,” Harper replied, her tone measured. “I’ve been focusing more on pro bono cases lately. It’s fulfilling work.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Pro bono, huh? That’s... admirable. Not very lucrative, though, is it?”

“It’s not about the money,” Harper said, her voice firm. “It’s about helping people who don’t have anyone else to fight for them.”

Daphne leaned forward, her smile saccharine. “That’s so noble of you, Harper. I don’t know if I could do that. I mean, I’d want to help, of course, but it must be exhausting. And, well, not everyone has the luxury of giving up a big paycheck, right? You’re so lucky, Y/n, to be able to support her like that.”

You saw the flicker of anger in Harper’s eyes, the way her grip on her wine glass tightened ever so slightly. But she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she gave a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of her wine.

The rest of the dinner passed in a haze of thinly veiled insults and polite conversation. You could feel Harper withdrawing, pulling further and further away, and you hated it. You hated that she had to endure this, hated that you couldn’t protect her from it. But most of all, you hated the little voice in the back of your mind that whispered nonsence.

---

As you lay in bed beside Harper, the silence between you felt heavy, oppressive. She had her back to you, her shoulders tense beneath the thin sheet. You reached out, your hand hovering over her back for a moment before you let it fall.

“Harper,” you said softly. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that made your chest tighten. “Do you ever think about why Cameron invited us here?”

You frowned, propping yourself up on one elbow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel like he actually wants us here,” she said, turning to face you. Her eyes were dark, shadowed with hurt. “It feels like he’s testing us. Testing me.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but the words caught in your throat. Deep down, you knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. Cameron had always been competitive, always eager to prove his superiority. Inviting you and Harper to the White Lotus wasn’t an act of generosity—it was a power play. But admitting that felt like a betrayal, not just of Cameron, but of yourself.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said finally, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. “He’s just... Cameron. You know how he is.”

“Exactly,” Harper said, her voice sharp. “I do know how he is. And I know he’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”

“That’s not true,” you said, sitting up. “Cameron wouldn’t do that. He’s my brother.”

Harper sighed, running a hand through her hair. “That’s the problem, Y/n. You’re so blind when it comes to him. You don’t see the way he manipulates you. The way he manipulates us.”

The argument hung between you like a storm cloud, threatening to break. You wanted to defend Cameron, to tell Harper that she was wrong, but a part of you knew she was right. And that part of you hated her for saying it.

The morning was unusually quiet. The villa’s golden light seeped in through the open shutters, casting soft patterns on the crisp white linens of the bed you shared with Harper. The faint sounds of the waves lapping against the shore drifted through the room, mixing with the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. You had always found this particular time of day peaceful, a pause before the chaos of human interactions began.

But this morning, the silence between you and Harper felt anything but peaceful. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling a light sweater over her shoulders despite the warmth of the room. You were still lying down, watching her from the corner of your eye, unsure how to bridge the invisible gap that had grown overnight.

Last night’s discussion about Cameron had been more charged than either of you anticipated. Harper had been firm, her words sharp but laced with genuine concern: “You don’t see it, Y/n. He’s manipulating you, like he always does. And it’s affecting us.”

You, in turn, had tried to defend him, even as doubts gnawed at the edges of your mind. “He’s my brother, Harper. He wants what’s best for me.” But the words had rung hollow, even to you.

Now, in the daylight, you couldn’t ignore the weight of her arguments. Cameron had a way of getting into your head, of twisting situations just enough to make you question yourself—and Harper.

“I’m going down to breakfast,” Harper said, breaking the silence. Her tone was calm, but distant. “Are you coming?”

You hesitated, feeling the pull to stay wrapped in the comfort of the bed, away from the complexities waiting outside the door. But you nodded, swinging your legs over the side and reaching for your clothes. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The four of you sat outside on the terrace, where the late morning sun warmed the stone tiles. Daphne was already animated, sipping an iced coffee and recounting a story about a boutique she wanted to visit in town. Cameron lounged beside her, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the carefree husband.

Harper, sitting across from you, was quiet, her fork absently moving scrambled eggs around her plate. You could tell she wasn’t truly listening to Daphne’s chatter, her thoughts likely still circling last night’s conversation.

“You okay, Y/n?” Cameron asked, his voice cutting through the clatter of silverware. His grin was as sharp as ever, and you could feel Harper stiffen beside you.

“Fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“Well, you’ve got to perk up. We’re in Italy, for God’s sake,” Cameron said with a laugh. “Not every day you get to live like this, huh?”

Harper finally spoke, her voice low but steady. “Not everyone feels the need to remind people how great their life is, Cameron.”

The table froze for a moment, Daphne’s laughter trailing off into an awkward silence. You looked at Harper, willing her to meet your gaze, but she kept her eyes on her plate.

Cameron chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Always so fiery, Harper. I guess that’s what keeps things interesting.”

You cleared your throat, desperate to diffuse the tension. “Maybe we should head into town after breakfast. Get some fresh air.”

Daphne jumped at the suggestion. “Yes! There’s this adorable piazza I’ve been dying to see. We can grab gelato, wander around. It’ll be fun.”

Harper gave a noncommittal shrug, and you felt a pang of guilt. The cracks in your relationship were becoming more visible, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that Cameron was widening them on purpose.

The walk through town should have been idyllic. The cobblestone streets were lined with colorful buildings, their shutters painted in vibrant hues. Flower boxes overflowed with blooms, their scent mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery. But the beauty of the surroundings did little to ease the tension that clung to your group.

Cameron and Daphne led the way, their laughter carrying through the narrow streets. You and Harper lagged behind, walking side by side but barely speaking.

“You’re quiet,” Harper said eventually, her voice soft but tinged with frustration.

“I’m thinking,” you said.

“About what?”

You hesitated, glancing ahead at Cameron’s broad shoulders. “About us. About him.”

Harper stopped walking, forcing you to pause as well. “Y/n, if you can’t see what he’s doing by now, I don’t know what else to say. He doesn’t care about you, not really. He cares about control. And he’ll use whatever means necessary to get it—even if it means tearing us apart.”

Her words hit harder than you expected. You wanted to argue, to defend Cameron, but deep down, you knew she was right.

“I’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been letting him get to me, and it’s not fair to you.”

Harper’s expression softened, but only slightly. “I don’t need you to apologize, Y/n. I need you to see him for who he really is.”

The confrontation with Cameron came just after noon, back at the villa. The four of you had returned from town, the tension simmering just beneath the surface. It boiled over when Cameron made another casual jab at Harper during lunch.

“You know, it’s funny,” Cameron said, leaning back in his chair with the casual arrogance that had always grated on Harper’s nerves. “When we were kids, Y/n used to get in so much trouble. Mom thought she’d end up running some bohemian art collective in the middle of nowhere, not gracing the covers of magazines. It’s... surprising, really.”

The backhanded compliment was aimed directly at you, but it felt like a dagger meant for Harper. You managed a tight smile, hoping to deflect the brewing storm. “People change,” you said, your voice light but your grip on your fork tightening. “And I think I’ve done pretty well for myself.”

“Oh, no question,” Cameron said, his grin widening. “You’ve exceeded all expectations. And now, with Harper by your side—” He paused, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, it’s... unconventional, sure, but who am I to judge?”

Harper’s eyes flicked up from her plate, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “Unconventional?” she asked, her tone measured but carrying an edge that made your stomach tighten.

“You know what I mean,” Cameron said, with the kind of faux-innocence that made your blood boil. “It’s just that Y/n comes from... well, let’s face it, a certain level. And your background—no offense—doesn’t exactly scream ‘power couple.��”

You felt the words like a punch to the gut, not because you agreed with them, but because they hung in the air, unchallenged. Harper’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Cameron,” you began, your voice firm but wavering just enough to betray your unease.

“No, let him finish,” Harper said, her gaze never leaving your brother’s face. “I’m curious to see how much lower he’s willing to go.”

Cameron chuckled, spreading his arms as if to say he was harmless. “Hey, I’m just being honest. Isn’t that what family’s for?”

“Family,” Harper said, the word dripping with disdain. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said, your voice louder than you intended. The table fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable.

Harper pushed her chair back abruptly, standing and tossing her napkin onto the table. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to this. Enjoy your family bonding, Y/n.”

“Harper, wait—” you called after her, but she was already walking away, her footsteps echoing on the stone tiles of the terrace.

You turned to Cameron, your face hot with anger. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” he said, feigning surprise. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. You deserve someone who matches your level, Y/n. Harper’s... fine, I guess, but let’s not kid ourselves. She’s not one of us.”

The words stung, and for a moment, you hated yourself for not immediately defending Harper. Instead, you stood, muttering something about needing air, and followed the path Harper had taken.

You found her on the beach, her arms crossed as she stared out at the water. The moonlight caught the edges of her silhouette, highlighting the tension in her shoulders.

“Harper,” you said softly, approaching her cautiously.

She didn’t turn around. “Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “Don’t come out here and pretend to make it better.”

“I’m not pretending,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m trying to fix it.”

She let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face you. “Fix what, Y/n? The fact that your brother disrespects me every chance he gets? Or the fact that you let him?”

“That’s not fair,” you said, though the words felt hollow even as they left your mouth.

“Isn’t it?” she shot back. “He talks down to me, insults our marriage, and you just sit there. You don’t defend me, you don’t stand up to him—you just let him win.”

Her words hit you like a slap, each one cutting deeper than the last. “It’s not about him winning,” you said, your voice cracking. “He’s my brother, Harper. I can’t just—”

“You can’t just what?” she interrupted. “Risk upsetting him? Risk losing his approval? Newsflash, Y/n—he doesn’t respect you either. He never has. And if you can’t see that, then maybe he’s right. Maybe I made a mistake thinking we could make this work.”

Her words left you stunned, your mind reeling. “You don’t mean that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighed, her expression softening just enough to let you see the hurt behind her anger. “I don’t want to mean it,” she said. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep fighting for us when it feels like I’m the only one trying.”

You stood there in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a physical force. For the first time, you saw the cracks in your relationship not as something caused by Cameron or Daphne, but as something you had allowed to grow by putting your need for your brother’s approval above your commitment to Harper.

“I’m sorry,” you said finally, the words barely scratching the surface of what you felt. “I’ve been... stupid. I let him get in my head, and I let him hurt you. That’s not okay. You’re what matters to me, Harper. Not him, not his opinion, not any of it. Just you.”

She looked at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I need to believe that, Y/n. I need to know that you’re in this with me, not just standing by while your family tears us apart.”

“I am,” you said, stepping closer and taking her hands in yours. “I’m with you, Harper. Always.”

---

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred first, blinking sleepily at the peaceful sight of Harper beside you. Her face was calm, her lips slightly parted as she slept. For the first time in days, you felt grounded. This woman—the one who had weathered so much by your side—was your anchor. You weren’t about to let Cameron or anyone else jeopardize that.

Instead of brooding over how to handle your brother, you decided to focus on Harper. Small gestures, ones that reminded her how much she meant to you, were long overdue. You slipped out of bed quietly, letting her rest, and wandered downstairs to arrange breakfast on the terrace.

By the time Harper joined you, her hair tousled and her steps slow, the table was set with fresh pastries, fruit, and coffee. She paused, her eyes sweeping over the spread, then landing on you.

“You did all this?” she asked, her tone guarded but touched.

“Just wanted to do something for you,” you replied, gesturing to the seat across from you.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat down, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

The meal started quietly, both of you still tentative in the aftermath of the night before. But gradually, the conversation eased. Harper told you about a strange dream she’d had involving dolphins in tuxedos, and you laughed harder than you had in days.

“I missed this,” she said softly, her gaze meeting yours.

“Me too,” you admitted. “I know I’ve been... distracted. I let him get in my head.”

Her brow furrowed. “Him?”

“Cameron,” you said, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to his impossible standards, Harper. But last night, I realized it’s a losing game. He doesn’t want me to succeed—he wants me to fail. And I’ve been playing right into it.”

Harper leaned back, her arms crossed. “I’ve been saying that since day one.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “I know you have. I just didn’t want to see it. I thought if I could prove myself to him, he’d finally respect me. But I’m done chasing that. I don’t care what he thinks anymore. The only person I care about is you.”

She studied you for a long moment, her expression softening. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ve been so focused on Cameron that I almost lost sight of what matters. But I’m not going to make that mistake again. I’m with you, Harper. Always.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, but you could see the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “Good,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reached across the table, gently taking her hand in yours. “Harper, I’m serious. I know I’ve screwed up—more times than I can count—but I want to do better. For you. For us. I’m not perfect, and God knows I’m slow sometimes, but I love you. I really, really love you.”

Harper raised a skeptical eyebrow, though her lips quirked into an amused smirk. “Really, really love me, huh? Is that the official declaration?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice unwavering. “Really, really. Desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in mock contemplation. “Hmm, let me think... You did mess up a lot this trip.”

“Harper...” Your voice softened, and your grip on her hand tightened.

Her smirk widened as she leaned forward just a little, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, begging might help your case. Maybe you should try that.”

You blinked at her, momentarily stunned by her playful challenge, before rising from your seat and lowering yourself to your knees right there on the terrace. “I’m begging,” you said earnestly, tilting your head like a desperate puppy, eyes locked on hers. “Forgive me, Harper. I’ll do anything.”

Her eyes widened for a split second before a laugh bubbled out of her, soft and disbelieving. “Oh my God, Y/n, you’re ridiculous,” she said, though her cheeks were flushed, and her tone was far from annoyed.

“I mean it,” you insisted, looking up at her with a sincerity that made her chest tighten. “You’re everything to me. I’ll get on my knees a thousand times if it means you’ll forgive me.”

Her laugh softened into something warmer, a mixture of affection and amusement, as she leaned down to stroke your cheek gently. “You know,” she mused, her thumb brushing along your jawline, “maybe you should be wrong more often. I like you on your knees for me.”

A soft, bashful smile tugged at your lips, but you didn’t move, relishing the feeling of her touch. “Whatever you want,” you murmured, voice barely audible. “Just tell me what to do to make it right, and I’ll do it.”

Harper’s teasing faltered slightly as her fingers lingered on your face. For all your silliness, she could see the depth of your love, the sheer desperation in your eyes to fix things. It made her heart ache and swell all at once.

She leaned back with a small sigh, tugging at your hand to coax you back to your feet. “All right, puppy. Get up. I don’t need the waitstaff thinking I’m torturing you out here.”

You rose obediently, though your gaze never left hers. “Am I forgiven?” you asked, hesitant but hopeful.

Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she shook her head fondly. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said softly. “But yes. You’re forgiven.”

Relief washed over you, and without thinking, you leaned forward to press a kiss to her hand, earning another quiet laugh from her.

“You’re such a dork,” she said, her voice lighter now, full of affection.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” you said, grinning, “as long as it’s with you.”

“Careful,” Harper teased, her tone still laced with playfulness, “I might take you up on that offer.”

“Good,” you replied, settling back into your chair but still holding onto her hand like it was a lifeline. “Because I’m not letting go. Not ever.”

For a moment, Harper just looked at you, her smirk softening into something almost shy. “You really are hopeless,” she murmured, but there was no bite to it.

“And hopelessly in love with you,” you shot back, earning one more laugh from her as the tension finally melted away.

And for the first time, you weren’t thinking about Cameron or Daphne or anyone else. All you could see was Harper, and that was more than enough.

[plethoraworldatlas]

Some people have already jumped to "Hillary Clinton lost because people talked about racist things she do so anyone who talks about Biden doing racist things is a faker virtue signaller psyop Idiot Trump loving fascist".

I cannot stress enough that demanding people ignore the most fucked up shit any politician has ever done or else they are "the enemy" is 1) absolutely BS 2) creates a lose lose situation for minorities 3) preserving the racist status quo.

(Also, the "Hillary lost because people didn't want to be called racist for voting for her" is so damn dumb, you sound like a conservative who thinks democrat voters act like cartoon caricatures, and you are dancing around her losing due to her alienating entire demographics of voters out of racism/believing she didn't actually have to work to earn their votes)

IF YOU ACTUALLY WANT CHANGE TO COME FROM THESE POLITICIANS, YOU HAVE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THEY LIKE EVERYONE HAVE DONE RACIST AND MESSED UP THINGS, MORE SO THAN MOST OTHERS DUE TO THEIR POSITIONS OF POWER, AND CRUCIALLY, HOLD THEM ACCOUNTABLE, HOLD THEM TO THEIR PROMISES TO DO BETTER, AND DEMAND THEY CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.

If an establishment democrat presidential candidate actually owned up for the messed up shit they and the party have done and actually worked to make amends to the communities they harmed and actually committed to standing against racism and bigotry, they'd all but instantly be a more moral president than pretty any other.

Calling anyone who talks about bigoted and messed up things Biden has done a Psyop Virtue Signaller faker idiot racist Trump loving fascist is just they way you have chosen to tell minorities "I don't care about the racism or bigotry you face when it's inconvenient for me"

(This was prompted reading the posts of someone who legit believed that Hillary lost because "virtue signaling" progressives (You know they desperately want to call the SJWs like they want to call people slurs) didn't campaign enough for her for free because "they thought she was racist". Completely ignoring the fact that people DID vote for her and She WON THE POPULAR Vote, losing primarily because she lost major states because she ignored entire voter demographics and alienated them with her racist record and thus lost the Electoral College. This person also reblogged posts calling people who reblog posts about Palestine "Pro Pal Fandom" regardless of context or anything, and generally seems to consider that no one legitimately cares about the genocide, and just considers it all an "AstroTurf virtue signal Russian (or Chinese) PsyOp" designed to "cost Biden Voters" because the world Truly revolves around Biden's polling numbers to them the same way conservatives believe international politics revolve around Hunter Biden's genitals)

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 1

Remember that inspo I posed the other day? I coudn't let it go and decided to write a three part fic based on it.

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool& Wolverine, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, implicaded age gap

word count 2k

No beta and English isn't my first language

there will be fluff later on but sadness first:

Too Sweet

Logan felt a great mix of emotions since he had followed that red-ass clown Wade into this universe. Most of it was anger, confusion, rage… But In that moment as he was sat on the black beat-up couch among Wade’s friends… He was overwhelmed.

Not by sensory overload, although that casserole that blind Al had made did stink up the place with garlic-

He was overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness, joy and companionship of the people around him. He hadn’t felt that way in ages if he ever did at all. He never felt that way with his team before everything happened.

He liked them, sure. But this company of weirdos shared a Kinmenship he never got to experience.

“Hey, Peanut! Are you angrily staring off into space to allow for good exposition?” Wade had plopped down on the couch right next to him. His jeans-clad thigh rubbed right up to his. At this point, Logan had given up on trying to keep him out of his personal space.

The older man frowned and stared at Wade next to him. His beer was getting warm but he didn’t feel like giving up his spot on the couch.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He huffed, taking another sip of his beer. But Wade just clicked his tongue, scooting even closer to Wolverine.

“Aww, you know what I mean! You are big and gruff and don’t talk that much… It’s kinda hard to capture you in writing you know. There are only so many words in the English language to describe your grunting and-“

“Are you done?” Logan sighed, finishing his drink. He was starting to regret coming with Wade. Getting drunk in some shit hole of a bar sounded better than listening to Wade's babbling.

“See! That’s what I mean. Sigh is nice, sure but it doesn’t quite capture the nature of those beautiful noses you make, big boy.” Wade petted Logan's thigh, which the older man quickly pulled away as he stood up abruptly.

“Jesus fucking- Can’t you annoy someone else? You got all of these muppets to talk to. Stop bothering me god damn it.” Logan placed the empty bottle down on the couch table. He scanned the room, looking for someone else that Wade could annoy to death. His eyes landed on the brunette… Vanessa… He knew that something had been going on between Wade and her. He never told him the details but from the pining look Wade gave her and the sad as fuck sighs he made, it was clear that the motherfucker wasn’t over her.

“Go and talk to the girl for god's sake. She might be the only one here to appreciate it.” He grinned at Wade, enjoying how his stupid grin faltered even for just a second. He leaned down on Wade's level, whispering to him in an overly joyous manner. “It might even get you laid.”

They stared at each other for a hot minute. Both men tying to provoke the other into action. But Logan was getting bored so he pushed “I might try if you don’t have the balls-“

“Fine!” It came out way too loud. Wade got up quickly trying to keep up his jolly attitude. “Fine, I will. But not because you said so.”

“Or threatened you.”

“You didn’t threaten me.”

“Sure, if you need to believe that” Logan got back onto the couch, now stretching out lazily across it. He closed his eyes, pretending to snooze.

There was no witty comeback, which surprised Logan. But it only came to show that Wade was serious for once.

Logan would never tell but he warmed up to Deadpool. He respected the man, despite his annoying and borderline brain-rotting bad humour. But he had principles. He cared for those around him, loved them dearly and would do anything to protect them. He did in fact. Logan spread out on his worn leather sofa is proof of it. He hated to admit it but Wade was the better man of the two. He didn’t let those he loves down, running away like the drunk asshole Logan is. Wade would have come to help her, would have-

The obnoxiously loud ringing of Wade’s apartment doorbell ripped Logan out of his self-deprecating talk. He blinked against the bright ceiling light and watched as Wade sighed softly. He had just started his conversation with Vanessa and it seemed to be quite a good talk from the looks of it. He seemed frustrated to be ripped away from it. Wade nodded softly, towards Vanessa, excusing himself but he was stopped by Colossus.

“No please Wade, I get it. You seem to be engaged in an interesting conversation.” The 7’5’’ metal man said, touching Wade by the shoulder to turn him back towards to woman. Logan huffed, he wasn’t the only one trying to get Wade laid.

The giant stomped towards the door, turning the doorknob that looked comically small in his silver hand to let the latecomer in.

“Hi! I’m so sorry for being late. I still had to finish some work. It’s the end of the semester, you know how it is.” A sweet voice called from outside.

Then two things happened at the same time. It was like a push and pull.

Ellie, Yukio, even that odd taxi driver… they all turned towards the door in excitement. Smiling and wooing at the woman that just entered the apartment with a cake carrier tucked under her arms.

Logan on the other hand? He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He sat there, staring as Colossus pulled her into a big hug, lifting her off the ground before taking the container off her hands to allow the others to greet her. She was smiling, laughing at some joke Ellie had cracked at her.

She looked younger. Maybe she was, who knows how time worked in this universe. Or it was the lack of stress she had to face, no heartbreak, no constant rejection from a bastard that couldn’t see that the best thing was right in front of him.

“Ah, there you are! We were starting to miss you!” Wade pulled her into a tight hug. He seemed to be content. And the older man cursed himself for even caring about it.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, or so he hoped. Maybe she didn’t know him. It would be for the best.

“Yeah, I already told Piotr, I had to finish some lesson planning at the academy before the school year is over.” She replied as she greeted Vanessa and the rest of the group.

“Oh right. You are the only one that actually knows what she’s doing at that school.” Wade joked, earning a playful remark from Colossus.

So she also studied at a human university before starting at the school, Logan noted. He was still stuck on the couch, feeling unable to move as he kept staring at her.

“You know her?” The sudden comment coming from right next to him made Logan flinch.

“Whoa, relax man. I just noticed you staring at her for like 5 min straight. And you don’t seem too happy about her being here.” Ellie stood next to him, casually watching the scene just as he did.

“None of your fucking business.” Logan managed to spit out. While he did get startled, the interruption helped him to finally feel able to move again. And it happened just at the right moment. He needed to get the fuck out of there.

Ellie just huffed, watching Logan get up on shaky legs. It could just be from the constant level of alcohol in Logan’s blood, making his knees weak, or the age. But she suspected that there was more.

Yet Logan’s attempt at a quiet escape was hindered by Piotr, calling him to come to the kitchen to introduce the two.

“Come to kitchen! I want you to meet my good friend Y/N. She also works at the school. You will like her”, the man sounds proud. He should be.

Logan ignored him, pushing his way through the small crowd with shaky steps. Why was he sweating for god's sake?

“Logan!”

“No” He called, breathing was getting harder again.

“Logan!”

“I’m good! I’m-“ He finally reached the door, rattling the doorknob and cursing that his fucking fingers got shaky. Everything was too loud and too hot and too-

“Wade, it’s fine. He doesn’t have to.“ She tried to stop the two men next to her from calling the man over. He was clearly in distress and it hurt her to watch him fumble on his way out. There were only so many people that were scared of her outside the battlefield.

She had met “their” Logan, but only briefly at some anniversary event. They had simply mismatched their time at the school. He left shortly after Y/N started working and they hadn’t met much. She wondered what the other her must have done to him to cause such a reaction.

Finally. Fucking finally. The door opened and Logan simply burst into the hallway, rushing down the steps to feel the air rush back into his lungs. A fucking embarrassment. That is what he was. The Wolverine scared shitless by a woman that doesn’t even know him.

But the other one did and it killed her.

“Logan, what in the ever-loving- fuck was that?” Wade had run after him. He just couldn’t leave it alone, could he?

“Fuck off.” Logan breathed weakly. He felt tears prickling in his eyes and it made him hate himself just a little bit more.

“You just running off? Scared of a girl?” Wade kept pushing, following Logan as he walked down the familiar street towards his bar of choice. That being the cheapest and quietest he could find in the city.

“Scared you can’t get one off? I don’t wanna make predictions but man, I think she is into the dark brooding type” he kept pushing “ Or you know what? If I can’t get Vanessa laid I might try with her, I mean she is quite-“

That made Logan snap. Turning around and impaling Wade against the closest wall. Both sets of claws out and push into the other man's torso. He only groaned in return.

“Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you fucking-“

“Okay, okay, whoa ow… man-“ Wade coughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “ I was only joking man. Unfair. Fuck. I am unarmed-urgh”

Logan retracted the claws letting Wade drop to the floor. He knew the man was joking, he should. But it was all too fucking much too soon. He wouldn’t let it happen again. And how to best prevent the inevitable heartbreak? Don’t even let her get close, to begin with. She didn’t deserve it. She never did in the first place and he would do anything in his power to stop it from happening to her.

“So, you are just leaving me hanging? It’s your party too, you know.” Wade got up, inspecting the bloody holes that stained his new shirt. He cursed softy.  “Damn, it was brand new. Ruining a perfectly good shirt for the exposition”

“Don’t wait for me,” Logan said, turning away from Deadpool. A cheap bottle of whisky was waiting for him to calm his nerves and forget about that fucking stunt. He won’t see her again, not even talk to her or talk about her. It’s for the best. She would agree if she knew,  Logan was sure of it.

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

Do comment here for feedback and spreading some love ❤️

[shinobushaori]

Hey! Idk if u do take requests but if you do-

Can i request a female reader who's usually loud, confident and bold? kind of like rengoku friendly in a way. But when it comes to shinobu she gets visibly timid? and shy then shinobu gets confused by this because she sees reader act the opposite with everyone else and this makes her wanna know more about it and yeah It's ok if you don't take requests. Thank you, have a nice day. 🥰

A/N: I do take requests!! and I was kind of shocked that someone actually did. There's a bit of lore in the beginning, just for the build up! Also, I definitely made this deeper than it should be but it was so fun! What a cute idea btw, hope it's as you envisioned it. Featuring Jealous Shinobu if u squint bc why not hehe. I believe in oblivious Shinobu supremacy too >;3

TEA

kocho shinobu x female! reader

warnings: thoughts of suicide (in a freaking out, idiotic way), otherwise none.

word count: 2.3K

"My.."

Shinobu blinks at the sound that entered her ears. The triplets' laughter echoed throughout the huge estate and she was ecstatic to hear so. Typically, it would be the groans of injured slayers, blood and misery resulted by vicious demons and she was glad, for once, that the noise came from something so pure and positive.

As she rounded a corner, a sight welcomed her. The three girls happily circled an individual she didn't recognize.

A smile, an actual genuine one she couldn't hold, stretched her lips seeing the innocent interaction.

"[Name]-san! [Name]-san, did you save the kitty?" Naho spoke out, giddy on her place with both Sumi and Kiyo nodding their heads.

The female, who was notably lacking the uniform to identify what specific employment she's in, simply raised her arm to flex. A smug expression on her face, "Of course! Climbing the tree was easy enough. Kitties are usually unfriendly when in distress but if you remain calm, they will too!"

Shinobu couldn't help but giggle hearing the declaration and she was instantly discovered, seeing how four heads snapped her way.

"Shinobu-sama!" She smiled and patted the girls' head respectively when they came crashing towards her.

"Good afternoon, girls. I didn't interrupt, did I?" Kiyo immediately shook her head, "Of course not, Shinobu-sama! We were just chatting with [Name]-san. She was looking for you but you were away an hour ago, so.."

"Oh!" Shinobu averts her attention to the oddly quiet woman and sees her frozen in place.

"My apologies, I didn't make you wait too long did I?"

Suddenly, this made you quickly stand up on your spot. A flushed red tint, one Shinobu assumes to be embarrassment, entirely covers your (s/c) skin. You bowed, "You did not, K-Kocho-sama!"

You fully straighten yourself afterwards, rather stiffly. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing for my sudden disrupt appearance.."

Shinobu tilts her head as you take a deep breath, "M-My crow was left injured and unable to deliver the letter but Master insisted to talk to you personally, so.."

"Oh my, that's unfortunate," She claps her hands but the sight of you flinching due to it confused her, "..but if that's the case please don't fret. It must be urgent if it was Master himself that said so. We can have tea in my office?"

"Y-Yes!"

-

"I see.." Shinobu spoke as she brews her tea, seemingly in deep thought. Truly your story was unfortunate.

"Oh uh, yes. I may not look like it.. but my sister was a healer back in my village. Although, she wasn't a professional, I learned a lot from her. She treated the others in our village until no one could treat herself. Although, in the end it was all futile because of the demons.. Still, I respect her as a doctor."

Shinobu smiles at your words, she sets down her tea aside before facing you. "And you too, are respectable, [Name]-san. I appreciate your act of wanting to help out."

You perk at the mention of your name, the existing blush worsening on your face. "Ye-Yes! Thank you, Kocho-sama!" Then you deflated on your seat, "But.. no pressure of course! I could be a kakushi if you don't want me here as a helper. I originally wanted to be a demon slayer but.."

Shinobu watches as you frown, looking down at your bandaged palms. "..Master recommended the opposite. Although my months of training would be a waste, I think he's right that my path isn't for demon slaying."

Shinobu hums, staring at how you stiffen on your seat when your eyes catches hers. You've been doing that a lot the time the two of you were conversing.

".. You're a great person, [Name]-san. Seeing how you've already bonded with our girls, it's safe to say that you belong here, in the Butterfly Estate, with us."

And seeing the teary eyed look on your face, she pulls you in a short hug. She feels your head nod.

"Thank you, Kocho-sama.."

She hoped you wouldn't be uncomfortable around her anymore.

-

The weeks passed, months later on and Shinobu wasn't wrong on her judgement. You really did fit with the Butterfly girls, as if you've been here for so long and she couldn't be more happy.

You're friendly, warm and passionate. An earnest person she couldn't help but adore.

You fit perfectly with the triplets, interactions often than not leading to a hearty conversation about your journey. With Aoi, you complimented her brooding personality. A, "Lighten up, Aoi!" leaving your lips everytime she kicks out you for stealing food. With Kanao too, who you often converse with. Albeit, one-sidedly but that didn't seem to dull you at all, it motivated you to talk more even.

With your lively presence, you absolutely lightened up the already hearty estate. Laughs and shouts often echoing and the burden of chores were lessened as well. You were helpful and more than eager to do chores for other people. And she could see the girls, herself included, appreciated you a lot.

That said, it isn't the same with Shinobu at all.

"U-uh!? Kocho-sama, I-I'll take care of it!"

"O-Oh, uhm. I suppose you're right. H-Have a nice day, Kocho-sama!"

Like at all.

Did she do something wrong? Everytime you were talking to someone else, you seemed like yourself. Happy go lucky, loud and bold.

And yet, everytime Shinobu appears near you, all your personality is thrown against the wall and all left is a timid, soft spoken person and this frustratingly bothers her to no end.

She did find this odd side of you cute, if it wasn't for the possibility that this is your way of being uncomfortable around her.

She takes notes that with authority, one could appear intimidating but she makes out herself anything but that. And this theory is debunked when..

"Kyah!! [Name]-chan!!"

The thuds of familiar footsteps were difficult to ignore, much less the squeal she could clearly hear and recognize.

It suprised her how you were particularly close to her fellow Hashira.

"Mitsuri-san?"

The sight of the strong and beautiful Love Hashira hugging you tightly, your feet dangling on the air, weirdly irritated Shinobu. Maybe she just didn't like her workers in an uncomfortable place?

"Wahh, Mitsuri! How have you been!" The wide smile on your face as you hugged the woman back is definitely far from uncomfortable though.

A vein popped out of Shinobu's forehead.

Mitsuri, who plants you back on the ground turns around feeling Shinobu's presence. She, bless her heart, visibly brightens up at the sight of the smaller woman and runs up to hug her as well.

"It's been so long, Shinobu-chan!!" The dark aura around Shinobu scattered, sweatdropping at her friend's tight hold. "Yes, yes it's been a while." Mitsuri finally lets go of her while the purple eyed woman scans her being.

"Are you badly injured?" The question seems to bring Mitsuri to reality as almost immediately, tears swell up her eyes. She took both, you and Shinobu's hand, with her left hand and held you both as she cried out in pain.

"Wahh.. this mean demon definitely purposely made me fall! I thought I already beheaded him but! but! suddenly I fell to the ground and broke my armmm!!!" She whines loudly and Shinobu hums seeing the poorly done makeshift cast.

Mitsuri pulls you closer, "[Name]-chaaaannn, I missed you so much! You were always there to patch me up everytimeee!!"

This definitely took Shinobu's attention, she tilts her head with a smile. "Ah?"

You, who were consoling Mitsuri heard Shinobu say. Sweatdropping you explain, "Uh, my trainer's estate was close to Mitsuri's and uh- we became friends. She gets bad cuts often."

Shinobu simply hums in understanding. She watches as you reassure the Hashira that you will help and make her an actual cast.

And suddenly, for some odd reason, she goes on her day absolutely irked.

-

You jog into the kitchen, clearly tired. Consoling Mitsuri is usually easy enough but not when there's other whining patients as well. You sigh as you slip inside, before smiling at the variety of delicious food.

You salivated on the spot and just as you were about to secretly take something- Aoi, who was always there, spoke out. "Do you want to wash the dishes for five hours straight again?"

"Aoi-chaaannn, stop being so mean!!" You whine with a teasing smile.

She loudly sighs and gives you a plate of brewed tea. "You'll have your lunch only if, you deliver this to Shinobu-sama first. Be polite, she was somehow mad the whole day."

You felt your legs seemingly transform into jelly and that hot, familiar feeling settle itself in your stomach unwillingly. Heat and blood transfers into your neck and ears at the mere mention of her name.

"A-Aoi! I-I- the girls should be able to easily do it! Why me?!"

Aoi raises a brow before scowling, "Because you're an idiot! Stop acting pathetic and move on from your crush on Shinobu-sama if you're not gonna act on it!"

"Guh!" You spit out blood hearing her harsh words. Setting the tea aside, you quickly try covering her mouth to shush her. "Stop! Someone could hear you!"

She rolls her eyes and push you away, "As if anyone with a brain can't see that you practically fall on your knees around her."

"Aoi!" You tremble at the thought of anyone, Shinobu out of all people, hearing Aoi's loud declaration.

"Just go! Or no lunch today!"

She kicks you out of the kitchen and you sniff, you can't do this! You don't even know where Shinobu is!

"She's in her room, by the way!"

And with Aoi's last shout, you wanted to bury yourself alive.

Her room! Not the office, nor the engawa she's usually on- Her private room! No, you'll fucking die before you can even knock on her door! Actually, you'd very much prefer to die.

Alas, the rumble in your stomach was too hard to ignore. This could go smoothly if you just.. be calm. Yes, exactly. Just knock, greet, then leave.

Yes.

So easy.

Knock, greet, leave.

Knock, greet, leave.

You fasten your pace until you were standing in front of her room. The plate on hand trembling alongside your sweating arms.

Knock, greet, leave.

Quick! Raise your arm!

Knock, greet, leave. Knock, greet, leave. Knockgreetlea-

Shinobu suddenly appears. "Oh, [Name]. Good afternoon, do you need something?"

"KNOCK." You hand her the plate.

"GREET." You bow before-

"LEAVE." You immediately ran out of her way.

Shinobu watches this all with widen eyes. She calmly places the plate down, a dark smile on her face before she, herself, runs towards the direction you went to.

"Fufu, let's see if you could run away from me this time, [Name]."

-

You huff and pant, clinging onto the roof of one of the warehouses. You absolutely bombed that simple task! How the hell are you gonna face her now!?

"I'm gonna kill myself.." You mutter as you hugged yourself.

"Oh my, I'm not gonna approve that, my dear~!"

"Huh?" You blankly stare at the fluttering familiar haori as someone's feet landed in front of you.

"Am I hallucinating?" Shinobu giggles, taking your arm before you could escape as you squeak at her hold.

"Ko-Kocho-sama-"

She leans closer to your head, your face erupting into different shades of red but Shinobu ignores this and stares at you. "[Name].."

Your breath hitch.

You know she's waiting for your response. So, you gulp and answer with your trembling voice. "..yes, Kocho-sama?"

"Be frank with me, will you? Why.." You follow the movement of her fingers as it sets itself on your cheek, tapping it.

"Y-Yes?"

You basically melt at her touch when you hear her giggle.

"Why are you always avoiding me, hm?"

Your brain froze and seemingly got clogged. Inwardly, you prayed to whatever existing god to kill you via heart attack in this exact moment.

Actually, with the most breathtaking girl cradling you? That might just be possible.

Not wanting to make her wait, you respond. "I-I don't.. know what you're talking about!!" Your widened eyes look away as you spoke.

You hear her purr and take you by your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. Her purple eyes makes your stomach drop and heart skip.

"Didn't I tell you to be frank with me? It's an order from the head of the house!" She chirps and leans closer, her breath warmed your steaming face as you finally gave in.

"Pretty.."

Shinobu blinks, tilting her head and leaning away. She watch as you cover your face between your hands.

"You're too pretty to face, Shinobu-sama!"

Shinobu's own face and neck heat up at your words. "What?" She couldn't believe what nonsense you were saying.

You peek out of your fingers shyly, "You're so pretty.. everytime I'm around you, I can't seem to think of a singular coherent sentence. It's absolutely embarrassing.."

"Eh?" Shinobu feels the warmth creep up more.

"I-I'm sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you! I wanted to keep a strict relationship with you because it felt like I was taking advantage of your kind gestures!"

You sigh, fists forming itself. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me now. I know, It's especially weird since we're both girls-" You look up at her and stiffen seeing the bewildered plus flushed look on her.

"Ko-Kocho-sama-!?"

Shinobu raises her hand, successfully shushing you. She looks everywhere but your eyes and for the first time, you see her usually chirpy and sometimes flirty demeanor take a shift.

"How about we.. start fresh.."

She looks up at you and your heart beats faster. "..with tea, perhaps?"

Blinking, you pinch yourself to see if this is all just an absurd dream and yet it wasn't. It absolutely wasn't.

Not wanting to make her wait than you already made her, you nodded with a shy smile.

"I'd love that."

[streetlightyeri]

false god ; boone

“i know heaven’s a thing, i go there when you touch me.”

[aka, boone is good at using a camera for more than just storm chasing]

w.c: 3444

warnings: 18+ MDNI. smut (oral, piv, breath play? in the lightest sense of the word, bandana used as gag).

notes: no beta, not even proofread lol i just needed to post this, i'll come back and edit at a later time. this is a piece from my wip about boone for my twisters/zach bryan song fic series (scott's is in progress as well a part two for "oklahoma smokeshow" for tyler). this was supposed to be fluff, slice of life moment, idk what happened <3 and as always, the fmc has a name but no descriptors bc i cannot personally write in 2nd person

-

She surprised him while they were on a chase. She was going to be in the state for no more than a few hours - when he headed out tomorrow she would be too. But she was able to get the information of where the crew was staying from Dani with the promise she would keep her mouth shut about it. Dani must’ve talked Tyler into letting them crash at a nicer place for the night because instead of a motel that Rowan was sure would give her hives, she pulled up to a very respectable 3 star chain hotel. She made a mental note to buy that girl whatever her heart desired.

Rowan pulled her hood closer around her neck and her hat farther down onto her head. She locked her vehicle behind her, keeping her head down as she walked to the side entrance Dani propped open for her. Once she made it in, she kicked the rock out the door jam and made her way to the elevator.

Rowan tried to calm her nerves as the elevator rose to the 4th floor. Her heartbeat picked up once the doors opened. She followed the signs to room 435. It was a corner room. Now Rowan was certain Dani had roped everyone into the plan; otherwise, a room like this would’ve been a coin toss or a game of pulling straws to see who got it. Her face burned at the thought.

But nevertheless, she knocked on the door. Boone’s voice came from the other side. “Yeah?” He was expecting someone from the team to respond, but heard nothing. He called out again. Rowan knocked in response.

She heard shuffling before the sound of the lock clicking. When the door swung open, she looked up, met with the sight of her boyfriend dressed in the same clothes he must’ve been wearing that day: jeans, a wifebeater, and a bandana tied around his neck. She could see his camo button down discarded on the end of the bed and his hat on the nightstand. A smile grew across her face as the moment started to click for him. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the room, double checking no one was lurking in the hallway before shutting the door. He turned the lock again and also flipped the deadbolt now that she was here.

When he turned back to her, he nearly tackled her onto the floor, throwing her hat to some corner of the room. But he managed to get his bearings before they lost their balance. His lips found hers; she could feel his smile as he kissed her. He walked them to the bed, keeping his hand behind her head to absorb the impact as her knees bent and her back hit the mattress.

He paused to pull back and look at her again, making sure she was real. “Hi, baby.”

She let out a giggle. “Hi, Boone.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, but stopped when her hand came up and pushed his shoulder back slightly. He knit his brows when she patted the bed next to herself but complied. She sat up to be eye level with him. He couldn’t believe she was here; his hands found her hips, sliding up her sweatshirt to rub circles on her soft skin. She wasn’t any better; she was trying to find her words but the way he was looking at her with his big doe eyes, like she was the best thing he’d ever seen, was making her brain short circuit. A haste kiss from him jump started her again.

“I have a . . . gift, of sorts, for you.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Is you being here not it?”

Rowan felt her cheeks heating up, her hands dropping from playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She stood up and walked to her duffle bag she discarded blindly when he tackled her. She reached in and brought out the small box she wrapped in a haste and walked back over to him, leveling him with a serious gaze. “No one can know about this. Absolutely no one.”

“What is it, baby?”

“Promise me you will never show anyone this. Ever. No matter what.”

“I promise.”

She sat back down and handed him the box. He made quick work with the paper, his jaw dropping when he saw the picture on the side of the box: a camcorder. Nothing fancy, absolutely no bells and whistles. But Boone always had a thing for cameras. He’d started messing around with them back when he was enrolled in community college, fresh out of high school, still trying to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life. There was nothing more exciting to him than getting the perfect shot.

“You know how hesitant I’ve been about, uh,” she cleared her throat, “filming. But I thought about it. With something like this, there’s no cloud it gets uploaded to, no internet required. Nothing anyone can hack. It’s not the best quality, but it was the best I could find that I was comfortable with.”

He dropped the box on the bed next to him and grabbed her head in his hands; they were so large his fingertips met at the back. “Rowan, baby, please tell me you know I am fine with never recording us? I don’t want you to feel pressured. I let go of that fantasy a while ago. If you’re not comfortable with it, then it isn’t hot anymore.”

She nodded through his grip. “I know.”

He kissed her again, letting go of her with a whoop of excitement before he opened the tape on the box with his pocket knife. He pulled out the recorder and inserted the SD card, flipping open the screen, taking a sweep of the room. He played around with the settings, adjusting it for the room’s lighting. He was so confident in his knowledge of the camera. In seconds he got it looking more like 720p instead of the 480p she saw when using it in the store.

He flipped the screen so he could see himself as he recorded. He introduced himself to his imaginary audience while Rowan rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his torso. He used his free hand to run a hand down her hair. He lowered the camera to capture her face for a second. “And this is my beautiful girlfriend.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “She is the reason I have this camera. I think she’s embarrassed, but don’t worry, I’ll get her used to showing her face.”

She pulled back and hit his shoulder with a laugh while he winked at the camera. He flipped the screen and turned to film her, catching the perfect angle where the setting sun cut through the curtains to leave a beam running across her face. “She loves me so much she surprised me. Can’t believe she kept this a secret.”

“I was so close to spilling! You kept texting me about how much you missed me! And I had to lie that I wasn’t in Oklahoma. I even had Dani working with me to cover it up. I would send photos from the view outside my apartment that I’d been saving up for her to show you. I was scared you’d get suspicious when I kept refusing to FaceTime.”

He laughed from behind the camera. “You are a terrible liar.”

She faked a gasp, “Take that back!”

He smirked, “I think I can think of a way to make it up to you.”

She pulled her legs to her chest and looked straight at the lens of the camera, “Well then, why don’t you show me?”

He deposited the camera on the nightstand, throwing his hat elsewhere to make sure he had enough space to get the entire bed in the frame. One he was certain they’d be visible, he tore his shirt off and made quick work of hers. He lifted her bridal style to put her correctly on the bed. He untied his bandana and tied it around her neck; he liked seeing her wear it. He hovered over her on his arms, his hair and gold chain dangling into her face. She felt her face and chest flush. No matter how many times they found themselves like this, Rowan always felt like Boone was admiring her like a precious stone.

He shifted his weight and used his right hand to run his thumb over her red cheek. “God you’re so beautiful, baby.”

He undid her bra and he moved to sit on his haunches, admiring her from above. Her chest rose and fell as his brown eyes raked over her entire frame, leaving her skin burning in their wake. His calloused hands ghosted over her waist so lightly, her body jerked from the tickling sensation. His two index fingers ran under the waistband of her jean shorts; his eyes flickered up to her for permission. She kept her eyes stilled on him as she nodded. His eyes flickered over to the camera; he could see her side angle perfectly, surrounded by plush sheets while he hung over her.

“Is the camera okay?”

She nodded again, not looking at it.

“Need words, baby.”

She opened her mouth but hesitated. In seconds, he had the camera in his hand, about to snap the screen shut and stop the recording. Her hand reached up and wrapped around his wrist. “It’s okay, Boone.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re tense. We’re not doing it if you’re not 100% with it.”

She tightened her grip on his wrist when he tried to turn it off again. “I am. I promise. If you’re okay, I am. I’ll get used to it.”

He hesitated. He didn’t want her doing this for him.

“If I wasn’t comfortable with it, I wouldn’t have bought the camera.”

“You’re allowed to change your mind, no matter who bought the camera.”

She moved to intertwine her fingers with his, bringing his knuckles down to kiss them. “I’ll tell you if I change my mind.”

He pursed his lips, “Promise?”

She smiled up at him, “Promise.”

She helped him set up his perfect angle again before he rided her of her shorts and underwear. His hands ran up and down her side, taking count of every inch of skin. He rememorized every mole and freckle. His lips found hers again, making his way slowly down her neck, shoulder, the valley of her breasts while his finger twisted at her nipples. She felt him smirk against her skin when she gasped, hands reaching out to grip the sheets. He left bites on the smooth skin of her stomach, a place he was often drawn to. A place he could mark that no one would know.

When he made it between her thighs, he groaned. “There’s my girl.”

Rowan bit her bottom lip to stifle the sound that brought out of her.

Boone’s hands tightened on her hips; she could feel each finger digging into her skin. He pressed sloppy, wet kisses to the inside of her thighs. Her toes curled in anticipation, legs locking to try and prevent them from tightening around his head. Not that he would’ve cared. He had spent weeks warming her up to the idea of sitting on his face so he could finally feast like he wanted. She would never forget the way he locked his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her core connected with his mouth while he ate her out like his life depended on it, like he wasn’t destroying her for any other man ever. 

When he finally connected his mouth to her cunt, he moaned into her, making a shiver run up her entire body as her hands moved to grip his hair. Her fingers twisted in his locks, making him let out another satisfied noise. His tongue reached out to lap at her core, taking in the sweet release and relishing in the taste. One hand moved to splay across her stomach, lightly opening and closing to keep her down and to scratch at her skin comfortingly; the other moved to leave bruises of his finger prints on her thighs before one finger, then two, then three pushed themselves into her. Her rapid breaths and whines filled the room as her hips jerked from the way he ate. While his fingers curled into the spot he knew made her see stars, his tongue circled her clit with unrelenting determination.

He glanced up at her, seeing her head thrown back with eyes screwed closed as he increased his pace. He knew he was doing good when he felt her body tensing up below him, her legs beginning to shake. She gave a hard tug on his hair when he pulled away and let out a stream of cold breath onto her clit before attaching his hot mouth back to it. She came with a cry of his name, tensing around him as her blood seemed to run through white hot fire. Her thighs clamped around his head, spurring him on to continue his feast as he rode her through her high. He managed to get his right hand free and bring it up to her mouth, tapping her lips which she opened without question. He shoved them in, so long he almost triggered her gag reflex. She instantly closed around them, sucking herself off of him while effectively silencing her from their neighbor’s ears. He used his thumb and pinky to grip her chin and turn her face to the camera. She whimpered when she saw how much of a mess she was, how much of a submissive puddle he turned her into without trying. The visual spurred her into another orgasm. When she finally came back to Earth, she let her legs go limp and released her boyfriend, much to his dismay.

He traced his lips back up to hers, pushing into her mouth. When he released their kiss, he left small pecks on her jaw, coming to her ear, “My favorite meal. Now my favorite show.”

She grabbed his jaw and brought him back to her lips where he lost himself for an unknown amount of time. He was achingly hard. Rowan ran her hand down his shoulders, past the scar on his ribs from when he got hit by a tree branch in the field, down his abs that he gained from always running from tornadoes, to run her hand over his length. She would never get used to it; he was the biggest she’d ever had, and he knew how to use it. He could bring her to tears without being fully seated in her. He had to coach her into taking deep breaths the first time they’d done it because she was so tense he couldn’t push in. Now, they knew the drill.

She pulled his belt off with one hand and discarded it somewhere in the room before popping his button. He discarded his pants and underwear off the bed, once again on his haunches, pumping himself in his right hand. Her hair was a messy halo around her, her skin shiny with sweat.

He lifted her legs to hang over his thighs, leaving her wide open for him to push into her without pain. His eyes flickered to the camera before coming back to hers; she nodded. He picked the camera up, and fixed the angle to where it was a clear shot of him entering her. With every inch he gave, her whimpers grew louder. “Bite down on the bandana for me sweetheart.”

She nodded blindly, biting down on the cloth that smelled exactly like him, like the cologne he wore that made her nearly stumble when she first met him. Her senses were clouded from anything else in the world. All that existed was him. The camera was an extension of him, like it always was.

When he was fully seated in, he gave a few long in and out thrusts, letting her adjust to his size before putting the recorder in its spot. When she gave him the nod that he was okay to move, he lifted one of her legs to rest on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to her ankle where she had a tattoo of a tornado, courtesy of Lilly and an empty bottle of Jack.

He gripped her hip with his free hand before he began to hammer into her. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. Her noises were one of his favorite things about sex with her, but he really did not need the neighbors knowing that he hadn’t even given her 30 minutes before they went at it; the bandana was not cutting it. He gathered up the material that was still hanging out her mouth and shoved it in. He gave a short “sorry” when he heard her gag but he wasn’t sure she heard it because he gave a very hard thrust at the same time that caused her eyes to roll backwards. He placed his hand over her mouth as well to keep her silent, her leg pressed against her chest.

Her hands dug crescents into his biceps and left long marks down his back. He had absolutely no complaints. If he could find a way to make the feel of him buried in her cunt permanent, he would. Boone grunted in her ear when she squeezed around him, “Be good, honey.” He felt her moan vibrate through his hand. 

She was getting close, he could feel it. She kept lifting her hips in a way to both escape the pleasure but also find new angles for him to hit in hopes it would be what set her off. He snaked his hand off her hip and used his rough thumb to circle her clit. In seconds, he sent her over the edge. She tensed so hard around him he couldn’t thrust her through it. Her tightness sent him over the edge, his face buried in her hair while he was groaning her name paired with a whimper of overstimulation. When he finally pulled out, he got the camera again to film the dripping of his spend out her cunt. He reached a hand out and smeared his cum across her cunt. She jerked and whimpered, the feeling too much so soon after he finished her again. 

He turned the camera to her face as he gave her his cum covered fingers to suck on. She had a sleepy, not-fully-on-Earth smile plastered on her face. She stared at the lens, at the extension of Boone, “Hi, baby.”

He held the camera out with one arm while he moved to connect their lips again.

The camera ran out of battery just as Boone was setting it up to look into the shower, right after he got a shot of Rowan on her knees with her tongue out, covered in his release, before she swallowed and showed her empty tongue to the camera.

He cursed when the screen turned black, an alert to change SD cards coming up. Rowan laughed and closed it after turning it off, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the shower. “You’ll just have to remember this round.”

-

Her hair left a damp spot on the pillow beneath him, but he didn’t mind. She was half asleep in the nook he made for her between his shoulder and arm, her eyes closed as she inhaled the scent of his soap and shampoo. If his arm was asleep under her, he said nothing. He had changed the sheets with the ones from the closet while she searched through his bag and her own to find something to wear. She ultimately decided on a pair of sleep shorts she brought and one of his plain t-shirts that hung oversized on her. She had a fist resting on his chest and had her leg across his waist; he lightly scratched at it, a comforting motion to help lure her to sleep.

He adjusted his head to leave a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, Rowan.”

She was too tired to make any words, so she gave him a hum that both acknowledged his words and returned the sentiment. She kissed the nearest part of him she could before settling back into her cocoon. He pulled the blankets up closer to her chin.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

01: Crossfire

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

a/n: Hi!!! First chapter! Are you guys excited? What do you think that will happen?

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Monza. One of the two most important races for Ferrari in the calendar.

And my home race as well. 

The weather is still warm at the end of August, the sky is blue and every house has a Ferrari flag hanging from their windows. Every person that lives in Milano or in Italy knows that this weekend is important, that this weekend is their weekend.

“Do you think they will give you a chance to be the priority today?” 

Erica, my older sister by only two years. She was completely different from me, with blonde hair and skin easily tanned. She always came to my races, being the one that takes care of my flights and to rent cars to have during the weekend. Not like Soleil, who was actually a little version of me and my nutritionist.

“I mean, I'm ahead of Leclerc. They should” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I ate my breakfast. “The only person in front of me is Max, I don't think they want to risk and fuck up things right if front of all the Tifosi. They are idiots, but not that much to make me and Charles switch positions just because I'm the second driver”

Erica looked at me with a smile, nodding as she tied the strap of her dress in the back of her neck. Every time she came to the races she made sure to be dressed with the colors of the team, always wearing red since I was contracted by Ferrari and then white, red and black when I was in Haas. Today, for my homerace, she was wearing a nice cherry red dress from Meshki, a brand I made collabs with some months ago. 

“If they were smart they would do a good job and instead of letting Charles fight, they would order him to defend you from Lando” Soleil pointed, helping Erica to tie the dress. “Is not the first time they order you do that for him, and for once that you are in front of him they should give you a chance”

“I just want to end on the podium, that is the goal today” I sighed. “What Charles does is all his business”

“At least you should talk about the strategy…” Soleil sighed. “Only to make things clear. This is your home race, he should respect that”

“Hah! Sure” I laughed. “It was my home race last year too and he didn’t think twice to overtake me in the last lap even if his engineer was screaming in his ears to not do that. That’s even more cruel that overtaking me in the middle of the race” 

“But last year you two didn't have a warning like this year” Erica sighed. 

“Whatever, he’ll be an asshole anyway”

My sisters looked at each other and rolled their eyes, probably tired of the rivalry between Charles and I. But they don’t understand, they don’t understand how it feels to always be challenged by him since the first time he saw me. It was like he was a bully and I was his victim.

“You two are twenty six, when will be the day you two fix things?” Erica asked. 

“When one of us dies” I stated, making both of my sisters groan.

“Drama queen” Soleil sighed.

“Yes I am”

Getting out of the hotel was something that took us half an hour, being stopped by fans that waited for the drivers to start their way to the track. They called my name and the nickname they gave me when I got famous.

“Princepessa”

The good thing about being half Italian was that they didn't care if my other half was British. They cared about my Italian roots, feeling proud that someone from their country is driving for Ferrari. A Tifosi driving for the Tifosi.

“Today will be your day” a fan said. “You'll win this race”

I smiled at them, letting them put the friendship bracelets on my wrists and taking pictures with them, somehow wanting to believe all the words they said.

Some meters in front of me was Charles, signing caps and shirts on his way to the car. I recognized Andrea (his personal trainer), Joris (his photographer) and then a girl, probably his new fling. They were waiting for him already inside of the car, the three of them looking down at their phones.

“Is that his new girl?” I whispered to Erica, looking at the car Charles was walking to.

“I think so, she was in the hospitality yesterday” Erica answered, nodding. “I would say she's nice, but the only things she did was make tons of Tik Tok videos and pictures for her Instagram”

“Are we gossiping about his new girl?” Soleil smiled, stepping between us. “She's not nice. She thought I was one of the restaurant crew and just ordered me to bring her a coffee! And her manners? Uhg, non existent”

“His taste in women is really suspicious” I joked, looking at that girl, who actually looked like me.

The three of us walked towards the car that was waiting for us, walking in front of Charles' car and looking at the girl that was sitting in the front seat on the passenger seat. She was looking at her phone, recording a Tik Tok probably, while Joris and Andrea tried to not make obvious eye rolls.

“Yeah, neither his friends like her” Erica pointed.

I sighed, walking to the driver seat of my rented car and got it, turning on the engine while my sisters got in the car. People noticed us and started to wave at me, all of them holding the shirts and and even flags and waving them as I drove next to them.

“They want you to win” Soleil said excitedly, watching the Tifosi wave their hands.

“They want Ferrari to win” I corrected. “They don't care of it's me or Charles”

I heard them sigh and I just shrugged my shoulders, driving towards the track while the police guided us, somehow making sure neither Charles or myself suffered an accident before arriving.

If we have an accident during the race it’s no longer their problem.

After I parked the car, I saw Charles parking right next to mine, opening the door and looking at me. He sighed, rolling his eyes when I waved at him and immediately placed his hand on the back of the girl that was with him in this race.

I walked with my sisters, just a little faster to enter the paddock first, and when I looked at his girl I nearly laughed right on his face.

She was dressed with a top that only covered her front side and a skirt that had an opening on the side and let you see all her leg. 

“I think you went to the wrong place” I smiled at that girl. “Coachella was on April and Tomorrowland was on July”

“It's fashion” she frowned, her voice sounding too high. “You wouldn't understand”

“I do understand. At least I went to the Met Gala” I smiled, walking away and pressing my Paddock Pass on the ID scanner.

I could feel Charles' eyes on my back, probably thinking about ways of how to take me off of the track in a few hours, or how to poison my lunch. He would do anything to make sure I won't perform better than him.

Cameras and reporters followed me, making my sisters walk some feet behind me, taking pictures of me and asking things related to the race, which I always replied with the same answer.

“I'll do everything I can to win. It's an important race for me and for the team”

When they were satisfied with my answer and after they had enough pictures of me, they walked away to focus on other drivers that were around the paddock too.

As soon as the red building was close enough, the media managers and content creators of the team started to fly around me and soon after Charles, asking questions and doing the trends that were famous on social media.

Let's start the act.

The smile on my face was half real, half fake. Having Charles near while we were inside of the hospitality meant that the rivalry we had since kids had to be left outside the building, making us act friendly and fake just to make the team and sponsors happy.

“Hey Daf!” 

He knows I hate that nickname. He knows that every time he called me like that I ended up screaming at him, telling him that he's not allowed to call me that way, only one person and he is dead.

“Charlie!” I smiled, fakely, watching how he fought to not roll his eyes or look daggers at me. “Those jeans again? How many of them do you have?”

In moments like this I enjoyed teasing him, giving him nicknames he hated and making sure he couldn't fight me. 

“This jeans, dear Dafne, are my lucky jeans” he said, smiling. 

“Mhm, I wonder when are you going to burn them” I said. “But seems that your girl has the same taste as you, now makes sense”

I saw him clench his jaw and fists, taking deep breaths and looking at him with his eyes furrowed. He knows he can't do anything, so he simply smiles and nods, walking away to his room followed by that girl.

“What was her name?” I asked Soleil. “She has face of Karen”

“I think it's actually Karen” she laughed. “I wonder where he met her”

“I'm sure it was on Raya” I chuckled. “Maybe a summer fling that stayed for too long and he doesn't even know how to say no to her”

“I don't know who I should feel sorry for” Soleil sighed. “Him because she clearly is with him for the money, or her because she will probably be replaced soon”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at the room with his number on the door, wondering what they would be doing. Ignoring each other? Her looking at the phone and taking pictures while Charles got changed? Probably that, or she would even be using him to take pictures of her so she could post them on Instagram, hinting that she's with him.

“Whatever, they are adults” I sighed, getting up. 

When I opened the door of my room and sighed, hearing how they talked, or most likely argued.

“What is her fucking problem? Why did she talk like that to me?” that girl exclaimed. “How dare she?”

“Come on, it wasn't that bad, Melanie…”

“Are you going to defend her or me?” her voice was too high, piercing into my ears. “Charles!”

“What! Fuck off, Melanie! You knew where you were coming, don't cry now. I told you what clothes you had to pack and, as always, you did whatever you wanted” he groaned, and I could hear how he closed the door of his closet.

“God, sometimes you are so stupid”

“Whatever”

I smiled, changing my clothes to my racing suit and folding my clothes, stretching my back and arms before walking out of the room, just at the same time as Charles. His jaw was clenched and I could see the vein of his temple a little swollen, something that always happened whenever he was angry or stressed, and probably now would be both reasons.

“Next time you bring a girl, make sure she knows where she's coming” I whispered.

“What about you won't open your mouth next time I bring a girl?” he frowned. “You are giving me a headache”

“Oh really? That's nice!” I smiled, winking at him and walking away. “You should have a painkiller, anyway”

“What I should have is a good race without you in front of me” he groaned.

“Too bad it won't be possible” I said. “Get used to it, I plan of being in front of you as much as I can”

That smile. 

God, I hated that smile.

I hated that she always knew what to say and how. 

“We'll see soon” I frowned.

She rolled her eyes and walked away, making me follow her with my eyes. Melanie walked out of the room and stood next to me, never letting go of her phone.

“Should I go to the balcony? I think there are nice views of the… How do you call it?” she said, making me take a deep breath and fake a smile.

“Paddock” I said.

“Oh yeah! That” she smiled.

“Look” I sighed. “I have things to do, I'm not your photographer”

Before she could say something I already was walking away towards the restaurant, sitting on a table and looking at my phone. Just a small lunch before doing interviews and then getting ready for the race, an ice bath and some stretch outs.

“Where did you leave that girl?”

I turned around and sighed when I recognized Erica's voice. She sat next to me and placed the cup of coffee in front of me.

Dafne's older sister always tried to be out of our  arguments. When we were kids, she always avoided our fights and stood away with my brother and Jules, ignoring us. I always believed that Jules and her would end up together, and somehow maybe they were for some time.

Maybe that's why she always tried to befriend me too, to make me feel that Jules was here too, and for her to have someone that reminds her of Jules.

“Last time I saw her she was asking me to take pictures of her” I sighed, grabbing the cup and drinking it slowly. “She was getting annoying”

“And why did you bring her, then?” she sighed. “I thought you were smarter”

“Did Dafne send you so she could just use this against me later?” I said looking at her, watching how she shook her head and smiled weakly.

“I came here because I care for you, Charles. I don't care if my sister and you can't stand each other” she said, resting her back on the chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes went to the small tattoo of her wrist, one of many she has. The little 17 was facing me.

“A guy has his needs” I sighed. “And she was there on vacations”

“Sure, but you know what she has been doing while you were out of the hospitality?” she sighed, but I already knew the answer. “She thinks she's your girlfriend, Charles, only because you let her be in your bed”

“And what if she is?” I frowned, and somehow that tattoo got darker than it already was.

Jules would be disappointed, right?

“Look, I just…” I sighed, but immediately shook my head. “You wouldn't understand”

Of course she wouldn't. Because I don't understand it either.

“Then explain it to me, hm? I might be Dafne's sister, but I'm your friend too” she said. 

“Not now, okay?” I sighed. “I have things to do, a race to make”

“Alright” she sighed. “Good luck today, Charlie. Just… don't kill my sister”

She stood up and walked away, not after she messed my hair softly.

Jules and her would have made a really beautiful couple.

I took a deep breath and sighed, getting up and walking to my room again. I looked inside Dafne's room and frowned when I saw a fruit basket on her table, finding a big amount of peaches on it.

“Fuck” I sighed, walking in and grabbing that fruit.

I might hate her, but I don't wish her death.

“What are you doing?”

I tensed and took a deep breath, turning around and finding Dafne leaning on the door frame, watching me with the peaches in my hands. 

“Nothing” I said. 

“Putting a fruit you know I'm allergic to in a basket?” she frowned. “I thought you were stupid, but this? This is crossing the line”

“No! Hey!” I frowned. Did she really think I put them on purpose? “I just grabbed them because I know you are allergic to the peel of the peach, asshole. You are welcome”

Before she could say anything I walked out of her room and went to mine, locking the door and groaning. 

The Italian anthem echoed through the stands of Monza, reverberating in my chest as I stood in front of the grid. My heart pounded in time with the fervent claps and chants of the Tifosi, their energy a palpable force lifting me higher. The sea of red around the circuit was a sight to behold, with their flags waving, faces painted, the roar of their passion almost louder than the melody of the anthem.

This was my home, my people, and today, I was going to give them a race to remember.

After the final notes finished, I walked back to my car, in the first line of the grid, next to the navy blue Red Bull. No one was in front of me, the only car to beat was the Red Bull. I looked to the car behind it, the other red one of the grid, Charles’ car. I felt his eyes on me, and the only thing I did was put on my helmet and remember that today was my day, not his.

This is my race.

The formation lap felt like an eternity, each second stretching as I warmed up the tires, feeling the grip, the balance of the car. As we lined up on the grid once more, the tension was almost unbearable.

Five lights.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Lights out.

I launched off the line, my tires gripping perfectly as I sped towards the first chicane. Max had a strong start, but I was right on his tail, the slipstream pulling me closer. Behind me, I could feel Charles trying to find an opening, but I shut the door firmly at every opportunity.

Lap after lap, I pushed harder, feeling the car’s every response. I stayed within striking distance of Max, waiting for my chance. And then, halfway through the race, it came. Max made a slight error going into the Parabolica, his line not as clean as usual. It was all the invitation I needed.

I dived down the inside, my heart in my throat, and for a moment, we were side by side. But I had the better exit, my car flying past him down the main straight as the tifosi erupted in a deafening cheer. The lead was mine.

Now it was a matter of maintaining it. Every lap felt like a battle, not just with the track but with my own nerves. I could feel Charles gaining behind me, his pace relentless. But I focused forward, hitting every apex, every braking zone perfectly. The laps ticked down, and with each one, my confidence grew.

The final lap was a blur. I could feel the tears in my eyes, barely letting me see the track, but I kept driving, pushing and turning the wheel until I crossed the finish line. 

“Dafne Morelli, you are a race winner!”

I did it. I finally did it.

As I parked the car in the pit lane and got out of the car, I heard the roar of the crowd, all of them waving the Italian flag over their heads. I saw my team, all dressed in red and jumping, cham¡nting my name. I felt pats on my back and helmet, some drivers coming to congratulate me.

But I felt that gaze too, the one that always burned me alive whenever I won him.

And it felt so satisfying knowing that I won against Charles Leclerc.

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@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins

[evolnoomym]

Birds of a Feather 🌙☀️

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: A peek into the future.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 0.8 k

Authors note: First of all Happy Birthday to my Wife @joelmillerisapunk and myself, I love you so much Sunshine (we are literally Scorpio twins) 🫶🏻 This was supposed to be something else, a whole multi-chapter Fic based around this couple (which I still plan on writing) but as you know my life kinda changed completely so I was busy with taking care of that instead. I hope y’all like this little gift I’ve prepared.

Warnings: no use of y/n, Female reader, Female OC, FFM, beautiful domestic vibes, getting married, implied age-gap, cock lol, throuple,

Shoutout to @saradika @strangergraphics and @steddiecameraroll-graphics 💛

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. You are always welcome to talk with me about my writing. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🫶🏻

If someone would’ve told you that your future is gonna look like this you would’ve never believed it. So full of love, happiness and joy, exactly what you deserve after all these painful years. You finally get to wake up and be happy about it. Free of the past that kept dragging you down into the abyss. Meeting Sunny changed everything, you spend hours day after day talking to her and never once getting tired of each other. Love at first sight. Within months the decision was made to leave everything behind, runaway and move in with her.

It may seem rushed to others, but not once since then did you regret leaving. Sunny and you quickly fell into a blissful domestic routine, waking up together in bed, making breakfast for each other, cleaning the house like maniacs together and let’s not forget about those countless trips to Costco while listening to music you both loved. Movie nights cuddled up on the couch, tending to the vegetable garden in the backyard and all the dates Sunny planned, showing off the beautiful hidden spots of her town.

Of course one day the topic of getting married came up and it wasn’t surprising that the both of you had similar dreams, tying the knot in Italy. A month after that conversation Sunny got down on one knee and popped the question, which of course you immediately said yes to. A couple weeks after she slipped that moon shaped diamond down your finger it was time to walk down the aisle. It was a small ceremony. One of the best days in your life, one you won’t ever forget. The day you married the love of your life.

A year has since passed and if someone, again, would’ve told you that it will get even better you would have not believed it.

Life was already pretty perfect, but then you met Joel Miller that fateful night, 6 months ago, at the local bar. Sunny and you had talked about sharing someone but the opportunity never came. Joel however was different from those other guys, his interest was not driven by perversion, no, he was genuine and respectful. A mature man who knows what it takes to make a gal happy. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the sweetest brown eyes and luscious brown locks streaked with grey.

In the beginning you felt like a traitor for feeling the way you did about Joel.

Sunny ever the Angel reassured you each time that you are not a bad person for loving more than one person, after all she loved him too.

Those doubts feel silly now as you stand in the kitchen of the house you three share. Glancing out of the big window above the countertop you can see Sunny in the garden outstretched on a big blanket. She’s soaking up the last rays of sunlight and the golden hues make her look so angelic. It’s November 10th, her birthday and yours too.

You quietly step out onto the porch, tiptoeing over to her, she seems to sense your presence and opens her eyes. “Hii Babygirl,” Sunny’s sweet voice greets you. As you sink down to your knees, she sits up on her knees and slides her arms around your waist. “What did you do inside?” Sunny asks after pressing her soft lips on yours. “I cleaned the kitchen,” you try to lean in for another kiss “Wait I already cleaned the kitchen this morning,” Sunny pulls back and tilts her head questioning “are you okay Baby?” She knows you so well. “Yeah I’m just nervous, do you think he has something planned for us?”

Sunny chuckles “I sure hope he does or else he won’t get his cock sucked tonight,” her boldness still makes you blush furiously “ awww Baby no need to get shy, it’s okay I know you love that cock.” She smirks and you can only nod bashful.

“Yes, but shouldn’t he do something to us?” You pout your lips and Sunny takes the opportunity to kiss you again. She strokes through your hair gently “He will definitely do something to us, but that gift you want probably the most has to wait for a little longer.”

“I know, maybe we can give him that for his birthday?” You suggest in a giddy tone.

“Would it really be a surprise if he’s actively involved in making that gift?” She retorts.

“No, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes I do, let’s talk about it with him okay sweet cheeks?” You nod.

Sunny’s attention is pulled to something behind you “Speaking of the devil,” Sunny smiles and points to something behind you.

When you whip around you see Joel with two huge bouquets in his arms, a big smile on his face and even after he’s worked a hard shift he still looks breathtakingly handsome. And when he opens his mouth to bless your ears with his deep Texas drawl you are immediately put at ease.

“There are my two pretty girls, now who’s ready for a Birthday Party?”

Friends: @beefrobeefcal @pedrospatch @penvisions @tightjeansjavi @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @iamasaddie @syd-djarin @msjarvis @mermaidgirl30 @noxturnalnymph @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @yorksgirl @sin-djarin @thundermartini @clawdee @almostfoxglove @ace-turned-confused @always-andromeda @sawymredfox @morallyinept @ovaryacted @toxicanonymity @luxurychristmaspudding @rivnedell @moonlitbirdie @zloshy @sixhours @merz-8 @punkshort @beardedjoel @sp00kymulderr @joelslegalwhre @baronessvonglitter @tonysopranosrobe @pedropeach @ozarkthedog @joelsdagger @whocaresstillthelouvre @littlemisspascal

©️ evolnoomym 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[luneariaa]

ღ || you are loved.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : kento nanami x reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 1k+

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : the memories of the previous events that ever happened in your life disrupts your whole thoughts. being the amazing husband he is, he comforts you during one of your bad days.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reader having a pretty rough childhood, nanami is your husband here, men in family have shown to be giving a bad influence but none too explicit, disturbed mindset, not much proof-read, and basically just family issues. plot going nowhere near the end ig lmao.

✰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : as someone who also had a pretty rough childhood and a rather chaotic family, i just decided to write and post it out in order to feel some sort of relief thru this. i'm so sorry to those who can relate; sending lots of love and hugs for y'all!! i'm so proud of you guys for able to make it through this day! 💛🌻

. dividers by @/cafekitsune !! 💫

To others, your family might be seen as a happy one; having positive, peaceful maintaining relationships. But no one really knows for sure, on what truly happens within that place you called home itself.

What is the purpose of it all, if not to retain a healthy, loving relationship between family members? Each one should’ve practised themselves to strengthen their familial bonds with one another.

But instead, whatever you have wished for– it’s all for nothing.

Growing up in a rather chaotic household does leave your mind dazed at times. You would sometimes even find yourself to be so confused, and believed that most people couldn’t be trusted the way they are. And it’s not by your choice, sadly, you can't help it.

Especially men, in general. You would’ve loved to believe that it’s just some sort of a generational issue, but you don’t even know yourself anymore. 

As a result of all the chaos that’s been happening for all those possible years, you’ve grown to be a quite introverted person– reclused, even, not really fond of the idea of opening up to others. It’s so hard for you to do so, especially when it’s already one of your habits that you’ve been doing for so long.

Initially, you even feared the idea of marriage as well, believing that you won’t ever meet the love of your life at all; along with the thought of you not being good enough to be someone’s wife.

But that changed when Kento Nanami came into your life some years later. Although you’re still struggling with your own habits, whether good or bad ones, Nanami always tries his best to help you with whatever he can.

You don’t even remember how and why did you agreed with having a serious relationship with him. Perhaps, you’ve seen something in him– or even, on what he gave you, provided you something that you’ve been missing from in your life itself. 

Sure, you can be quite closed off at times, even when it’s unintentional, but he always and always will try to guide you with doing the actual, right thing. 

Nanami treats you with pure, utmost respect that comes off as so natural to him; never once yelling or using any harshness at you, especially with his own words. Even when you somehow are being stubborn or so right at that moment, he would always be patient with you, and even give you some space if you needed it. 

He’s so sweet and loving, mature, responsible.. The list just keeps going on and on. Heck, he even remembers every single detail that you may have told him, your favourites, your habits, and so on.

Nanami was never the one to rush into things. He takes his tender time with it, especially when it ever comes to you.

He would always speak directly and bluntly; not intending to sugarcoat his words in a way, yet his words never did hurt your feelings. There’s just something about his honesty that draws you in further. It leaves you confused sometimes– was it even the way he talks to you?

But just by his own presence, whether his way of speaking or his actions itself; something about it heals your inner self. It soothes your soul wonderfully, like a warm sunlight coming out from the clouds after the rain occurred. You feel safe and comfortable around him over time. 

The time being spent between the two of you is never lacking or dull– with both of your personalities, which are quite the opposite from one another, complements and balances out each other so, so well. And this is due to how you both work on your relationship together as well. 

Never once does it feel forced; the deep relationship bond between you both flows ever so gently like the river, and in order for the water to continue flowing without any disturbances, it needs the mere effort from you two.

Despite everything, there’s a part of you that feels so out of place. Perhaps, there’s a side that you believed to be unlovable, and that you’re just not enough. Of course, you wouldn’t even bother to tell him since you didn’t want to potentially burden him with your own problems. 

But it’s Nanami that you’re talking about– and he’s the type to notice every single change in your expression. He can always tell if something is causing your own mind to be restless.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” Nanami’s soft tone broke your temporary state of trance, stepping inside within their shared bedroom and gradually approaching your form. You didn’t even realize that you’ve been standing and staring in front of the mirror for several passing moments now. 

The thoughts of self-doubt and questioning about your whole existence disappears in mere seconds. 

He gently wraps his strong arms around your unmoving form; resting his chin on your shoulder while gazing back straight at your own reflection in the mirror. A small smile appears upon your lips, and didn’t even make any attempt to remove himself from you since it feels so nice at the very moment.

“Nothing.”

His touch alone is enough to soothe your own possibly hurting soul– calming and any trace of hurriedness not in sight, yet your brief answer doesn’t really ease his worries. He knows.

“I know you, darling, I know that’s a lie. You’ve been staring at yourself for the past few minutes.” Nanami didn’t even try to hide his true emotions at this point, keeping his hold around you. He didn’t have to. “Is there anything bothering you? Please tell me, I’m here to listen.”

You’re completely aware that there’s no point in lying to your beloved, so with no choice, you decided to tell him all of your pent-up troubles.

“I just don’t feel special. It’s just one of those days, you know..”

Talking it out is always one of your biggest fears and struggles, and he understands on how hard it is for you to do it every time. Instead of forcing you to speak even further, he slowly turns you around, just to give you a proper embrace. 

One that you really, really needed.

“Sometimes–” your words came out more choked out if anything due to the tears you’ve been holding back. “--I wondered what made you choose me as your wife. I’m nothing more special than just a damaged person who needs to heal and move on. But it’s hard.”

“I’m beyond happy with it, truly I do. It’s just that.. My unwanted thoughts could get in the way at times, and I just feel so troubled with myself in general. I don’t feel I deserve someone like you, and you deserve someone far more better.”

“I’m just so grateful for having you in my life– I truly do. You healed something in me, you really did. I’m just worried that whatever I do will never be enough.”

Nanami falls silent at first, which makes you worried for a while there, afraid that you might overstep with your own words of admittance. His mind is racing for a second there, contemplating each word of truth that he has to tell you.

“Darling, I chose you; I chose you out of everyone else because I wanted to.” He still couldn’t understand as much as how you could see yourself in that way. Nanami is never mad, but deep down, he’s genuinely sad at how you view yourself.

Nanami gently uses one of his hands to lift your chin up, completely making sure that you return the gaze that he’s currently giving you. “I don’t care what anyone says. You are everything that I ever wished for, and your little imperfections are what made you so perfect to me.”

“And I never intend to pick anyone else in a crowd of people– I will always choose you. If anyone ever tells you or me that you’re not special, then they’re wrong. I will prove them otherwise, I promise you.”

His gaze never once faltered from yours, wanting to make sure that you’re listening and focusing on every word he says. Your eyes alone have an effect on him, simply captivating in every sense.

It did have an effect on you– feeling yourself getting on the brink of tears, yet still trying your hardest to not have a mental breakdown in front of your beloved. Not yet.

You keep repeating, and repeating on each word that he says internally. His honest yet sweet statement has left you in a tongue-tied state. You are still not used to it sometimes, even forgetting that this man ahead of you clearly loves you dearly and possibly more than himself.

Your husband took quick notice of this, and simply held your form closer to his. The least he could do is to provide some needed comfort, and how he very much wished that he’s able to get rid of any trace of sadness that existed within you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you..”

His voice is so soft, not once hinting any irritation whatsoever as he comforts you. You really cherish him, more than words could ever describe– even wishing that you’re able to repay his efforts.

Nanami will always guide you back, and slowly try to make you drift away from any traces of negativity that you’re facing. Of course, it’s not easy, but he’s willing to try it together with you.

Always so gentle and protective in his own way; it wouldn’t matter on how old you both are getting. The love he has for you shall remain and live on as long as he’s breathing, and he will always shield you from any potential harm from the world itself.

“Even beyond the flaws that you believed to have possessed, you are still worth everything that this world has to offer. Those little flaws are what made you, you.”

He keeps on telling you the words that he always wanted to tell you; one that is filled with complete honesty and love within it. To simply remind you on how much your existence meant to him, and it successfully pushed your emotions further to the edge– unable to contain your tears any longer.

Yet still, he continues on with his own words– all the while placing several feathery kisses onto each part of your face that he could reach. The feeling itself is quite overwhelming, yet comfortingly so, knowing that you are truly being loved by someone special. 

The past that you have endured may stay with you for as long as you live, but Nanami is willing to help; willing to create a better future instead for the both of you. For your mere sake.

“I will always love you; every single inch of you, and even your flaws. I will make sure of it– always reminding you of that.”

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ballora!Reader x the cast

Reader is like Ballora and they are a very caring figure who is very quiet and their walk dancing just like ballora, They dont talk too much but they care about everyone very much, Usually obliterating anything that tries to hurt them in a very brutal way even tho theres no blood there

Reader also crawls on the walls doing contortionism (bridge pose) and sometimes does this to explore the place, even scaring the cast, but the reader has a voice as beautiful as Ballora's, generally using it to help the others calm down or even try to make them sleep or something like that

TADC cast x Ballora type! Reader

Lmao hi I literally just woke up its like, 8am rn as I type this 😭😭

Typing this early since I'm making cinnamon rolls today! Gotta wake up for other people to wake up since I dont wanna. Accidentally wake anyone up

Written on mobile btw !! So things may be shorter / more typo prone !!

Only did the main 4 today my apologies, I couldn't really come up with any ideas for kinger zooble n gangle <\3

CAINE:

Loves watching you perform and practice your ballet!

I think he would have literal heart eyes whenever you talk to him, he just loves your voice so much!

Floats next to you as you crawl on this walls and do your contortions; strikes up a conversation with you while you're literally defying gravity

POMNI:

Oh..! Ballet! She doesnt know much about it, but that wont stop her from appreciating your skills!

Probably looks at you in a different light after you absolutely demolish and/or snap during an IHA

That's not necessarily a bad thing, by the way... simply gets the point across that you're... capable in case of a dangerous situation...

Has probably gotten jumpscared after seeing you crawl on the walls

JAX:

Tries to convince you to join the dark side and use your wall crawling ability to scare people... same with your contortions... if you want to like, actually consistently and intentionally scare folks then jax is you're go to person to help lure people into whatever area youre in

I don't see him as someone who would be into ballet, but I do think he would have some level of respect for the effort and stuff that goes into it

Not much to be said since I believe I've done a jax x ballerina reader a few days ago !

Stares at the small pile of mush that used to be a gloink before you came in.. for once he feels.. uneasy

RAGATHA:

Similar to pomni in terms of the wall crawling stuff she has been spooked by it a few times before growing used to it

LOVES watching you dance, literally you're number one fan, always watches you everytime you dance

Silliness be damned! This doll loves her pretty but slightly off putting partner!!

[silver-itallics]

My Favorite Inside Source

Leon Kennedy x reader

Part 2!

Warnings: Non-con, drugging, kidnapping, kind of cnc, Leon being a weird old man and feeling bad about it

Title is from Rape Me by Nirvana

This is inspired by Waste Me from @gilfhub !! super cool awesome person I love their brain

This was a stupid idea.

Most of your ideas have been stupid recently.

But you feel stupid, so your antics fit.

You don't have enough self respect to care anyway.

There's a red solo cup in your hand, inside it a mix of alcohols that will probably give you liver damage in your thirties. Raising it to your lips, the drink isn't half bad.

Or maybe you're just too drunk to tell.

The alcohol burns your throat, making you feel a strange mix of nauseous and euphoric. Around you, everyone else seems to be in the same condition.

People grind against their partners in a sorry excuse for dancing, stumbling as much as you are.

It's perfect.

For the past few weeks, you've been doing this. Getting drunk or high out of your mind, sometimes both, in hopes of someone looking your way. You've exhausted your skimpiest of outfits, and worn enough makeup to provide for a beauty pageant.

You leave your cups unattended, and drink any suspicious substance you can get your hands on. You flirt without paying attention to any red flags, letting your neckline hang low enough to practically show nipples.

It's like you're begging to get scooped up and thrown in the back of a trunk.

Actually, what you want is worse than that.

All of your antics are an attempt to get bent over in a stranger's bedroom or a dirty bedroom while you scream "please, no!"

In your mind, no one will lay their hands on you unless you're one step away from unconsciousness.

Pretty girls get taken home. Pretty girls get paid attention to.

You, however, are begging to get raped.

Quite literally.

The last guy that came close enough to shoving his hands down your pants got scared away. You begged him to rape you; you were drunk enough for it to be considered the sort.

He pushed you off, calling you a freak and all sorts of names without even touching you.

Ever since then, your efforts have doubled.

You put your body on display, despite how unattractive you find it. Even in a skirt so short you can see your panties and a shirt so low cut your bra is showing, you barely get any attention.

Maybe it's your soft jawline, or hip dips. The lack of attention could be chalked up to your round tummy or the pimple below your lip. Or it could be your frizzy hair, or the fact that you only talk about three things.

You could make a list out of things you hate about yourself.

Instead, you're fishing for attention, using your tits and ass as bait on a hook.

Still, you keep coming up empty handed.

As you lean over the bar, purposely looking away from your drink, you can feel eyes on you. You push the thought away, your insecurities not believing that anyone would look at you that way. But actually, quite a lot of people look. Only because your pussy is practically hanging out of your skirt, but you catch their eyes anyway.

This time, though, you don't feel just a fleeting glance. You can feel staring.

Turning, you find the culprit. A man twice your age with shaggy dark blond hair watches you like a hawk. You're surprised, considering he's quite attractive. The guy is well built, with muscles and a sharp jawline with a bit of stubble. Pretty. You'll bite.

You give him a smile, playing up how drunk you are. However, it's not hard, considering you'd probably break a breathalyzer with how much alcohol is in your system. The fact that you haven't thrown up yet is a miracle.

Instead of walking over to him, you shift your focus to the bar once more, playing hard to get. Guys like that. At least you think they do. You've never really caught enough guys' attention to say for sure.

Shifting your hips, you arch your back to give him a good view of your panties. The skirt you're wearing is already quite short, but the angle makes the fabric slip up your behind even more. At least there's enough fat in your body to give you some semblance of an ass.

That seems to do the trick, as in a few minutes, you feel a warm hand on your lower back. Now that you've got his attention, time to reel him in.

"Hey handsome," you slur, stumbling a little. That gives you the opportunity to press your cup against his chest in hopes he takes the chance to roofie your drink.

The guy catches you, his hand slipping to your waist. You have to stop yourself from melting into his embrace and begging for it already. He smells like whiskey and gunpowder, and you can feel his strength in just the simple touch.

"Hey yourself."

You talk with him for a few minutes, making sure to compliment him as much as possible and insult yourself at every given chance. Playing the pathetic role isn't difficult, as you aren't really pretending.

Eventually, you learn the man's name is Leon, and as you guessed, he's quite a bit older than you. Almost twice your age. Which is even better in your twisted mind.

"Gonna go pee." You shove your cup into his hand, walking to the bathroom at the back of the bar. There's a long line, which gives Leon enough time to decide what to do with your drink.

At first, he protects it. His hand is wrapped around the opening, and he keeps an eye out for anyone that might have looked your way earlier.

But really, he should be protecting you from himself.

Leon didn't come here with the intention of taking anyone home. Especially unconscious.

But you played into his hands so perfectly, practically putting yourself on a silver platter for him. You probably wouldn't even notice if he slipped something in your drink.

Guilt twists in his stomach.

Girls were always hard for Leon. They liked his looks, but never stuck around long enough to appreciate his personality. At least that's what he told himself.

Except for you.

You liked both his looks and personality, easily charming jokes out of him. And you even laughed.

Some of them you genuinely found funny.

Plus, your self esteem was so low, you'd probably give him what he wanted if he asked politely. Still, there was the chance you'd fight, and he couldn't have that.

The thought made Leon feel sick.

What the hell was he doing?

As quickly as the nausea came, it subsided. The feeling was replaced with the memory that Leon hadn't had pussy in years. He knew you had a nice warm cunt that you'd turn over in minutes.

But you'd be tighter if he took it from you.

That was what helped him decide.

He was only a man, one with needs. You were a fragile, insecure girl.

This would be a cakewalk.

Leon slipped his hand into his back pocket, pulling out a few melatonin tablets. He kept them on him because he couldn't sleep most nights.

He probably wouldn't be sleeping after the guilt of what he was about to do, but the need to feel your plush walls was stronger than any morals Leon had.

Normally, he'd be better than this. But after his entire team got killed in front of him because of a stupid mistake he made, Leon hadn't been the same.

He dumped the pills into your drink.

They drop down to the bottom, fizzing as they start to dissolve. Hopefully the little tablets disappear fast enough for you not to notice. That way, the only evidence would be the effects you'd feel later. Hopefully he'd be able to keep you entertained long enough to scoop you up.

Just in time, you appear behind Leon, dragging your fingers up his arm.

"Sorry, line was long. Miss me?" You tease.

"Lots," Leon chuckles. He gives your drink a subtle shake before handing it back to you. Without even checking the contents, you take it.

"Protected it with my life."

You smile at Leon's stupid joke, taking a big swim of your drink. You really hope he put something in it.

"Well, thank you for your service."

Swishing your drink, you make sure not to look down at the liquid. Leon is glad you don't, as the pills at the bottom are still dissolving. God, he's even bad at drugging stupid sluts at bars.

The only thing he feels he's good at is guns.

They're easy, people aren't. When his gun jams, he knows exactly what to do. But Leon's mouth goes dry when you look at him with those doe eyes of yours.

The two of you talk a little longer, and you make sure to down your drink quickly. Once you get down to the bottom, your face twists a little at the unfamiliar taste. Leon notices, and panics a little. But he needs to be calm. Pretend like nothing's wrong.

So he claps a harsh hand on your shoulder, shaking your body with the motion. He almost forgets what he's doing as he watches your skin jiggle a little.

"It's okay, kid. I didn't like alcohol at first, either."

He manages a smile, but Leon knows he's an idiot. Calling the girl he's about to take home and fuck senseless a "kid" is not the right move. Even if fucking isn't the right word for what he's about to do to you.

Thirty minutes. Leon needs to occupy for thirty minutes, so that the melatonin kicks in. Surprisingly, the task isn't as hard as he thought. Even if you're a little annoying, you entertain yourself well, talking as if he cares. You're like a puppy chasing its own tail. He almost feels bad for what he's about to do.

Almost.

Leon pulls you closer as you yawn, supporting your weight on his biceps. Jeez, you're heavier than he thought you'd be. That might be a problem.

"'m sleepy," you mutter, completely forgetting what you came here for. Well, either way you wanted someone to take you home, and that's exactly what you're gonna get.

You lurch forward, feeling dizzy and sick. Even in this dazed state, you realize: you've actually been drugged. Fear creeps up your belly, latching itself on each of your ribs. For so long, you've fantasized about this, and now that it's happening, you're getting cold feet.

There's a look of inebriated panic on your face, clear as day. Feeling sluggish like jelly, you reach up, pointing a wobbly finger at Leon's chest.

"Leon… you…" slurring, you can't even get the words out. The bartender looks curiously at the two of you, to which Leon puts on one of those charming smiles of his. The one that's gotten him so far, the one he's mastered from years of kissing up to the president.

His hand slides into place around your waist, pushing down your accusatory finger.

"Think she's had too much to drink," he chuckles, looking down at you. "Haven't you, baby?"

Baby.

The word is enough to make you compliant. Leon's voice repeats in your head, putting you to sleep like one of those audiobooks you listened to as a kid.

Sleepily, you nod, relenting your body to him. You're like a bunny chasing a carrot on a string. Except you'd follow that carrot even if it led you into an active volcano. Leon almost pities you. But he pities himself more.

He's rough when he shoves you into the car, and you drift off in seconds. You're out like a light, so he's gotta work fast to get you to his apartment. Leon could always rape you in his car, but he's classier than that. He's a private man, even if he's a dick.

When you're finally on his bed is when he realizes what he's doing. Sprawled out on his pillows, your hair drifts out like a halo. With your eyes closed and lips parted, you look sweet. Even if you're not a blonde bombshell on the cover of playboy magazine.

You're just some girl, an average one.

Some might even call you a victim.

Leon feels nauseous again. Normally he can hold his whiskey, but this is a different type of sick feeling. He's sick in the head, and he knows it. Like a parasite in his head, one he can see, but can't remove.

That same parasite is what makes him crawl between your legs as you're sleeping, pressing his face to your panties. Nice ones, too. He lifts up your skirt to get better access and a better look at the lacy fabric covering your slit. He takes a deep whiff before pushing himself back up.

Leon's gotta work fast, as you're just asleep, not paralyzed. Another amateur mistake. He might have to concuss you if you make too much noise. Surprisingly, he's okay with that. He's broken plenty of skulls, and yours would be just one more. Except you're not infected with any disease, except for a similar one that he has, and you're not a war criminal.

Looking you over, Leon notices what little clothing you're wearing. Claire would tell him it's not good to say that girls are "asking for it", but it kinda seems like you are. He's not sure whether that makes this whole situation better or worse.

Whatever.

The top of your obnoxiously colorful bra peeks out from your shirt, and Leon tugs it down. Your boobs are average, but the first real ones he's seen without paying for them. Even if he'll probably pay for this later. Just not in money.

He's old now, and can't get hard as easily as before. But that doesn't stop his dick from trying to. Man, he's stooped low.

In his twenties, he had girls throwing themselves at him, but never the ones he wanted. Before, his expectations were high. But now he's getting chubbed from the sight of some average tits.

You're an average joe in almost every way. Boobs aren't too big, and your ass isn't huge either. You're mostly fat, which is probably to blame for most of your ass anyways.

But if Leon is good at anything, it's dealing with what he's given.

So he lowers his mouth down to one of your tits, taking your nipple in his lips. He's not as good at it as he used to be, but the skin hardens anyways. Maybe you're good at settling, too. Just like he is.

You squirm a little each time he sucks on your nipples, eyebrows creasing. Leon takes them both in his hands, and each of your boobs fit nicely in his palms. Maybe this isn't so bad.

He jerks his hips forward, trying to get his dick hard. You make it a little easier for him to get it up, compared to the night he spends alone. At least he has some material tonight that's not on paper or a screen.

Your panties are starting to get wet, which is fine, even if he'd prefer you a bit drier. You'd be tighter that way.

He leaves most of your clothes on, figuring you'd be less violated than way. Leon's line of thinking doesn't always make the most sense, but he does it anyways. When he pulls away your underwear, he chuckles a little. You've got a pretty pussy for an average joe, but with a hack job of pubes.

At least you smell nice.

He slides your underwear off your legs, tossing them into a drawer in his nightstand. A keepsake. Trophy. Or maybe material if you ever get away. Probably evidence if you ever go to the police.

Maybe Leon's life will turn around if he gets arrested. Or the president will just break him out and he'll be back to fighting nightmares day and night.

He's trapped in this stupid job. But he's not trapped with you. With you, Leon finally has control. He can make you jerk by playing with your nipples and whine when he kisses your clit. But being nice is boring.

Normally he'd eat a girl out, for the sake of chivalry or whatever. But this is about him, not you. You don't have control here.

He pushes his jeans to his knees, just enough to get his dick out. At least it's hard now, from the sight and smell of your pussy. Probably your best feature.

When he presses the tip against your pretty folds, you gasp. The first sound you've made tonight. Leon doesn't find the noise to be unbearable, so he keeps going.

When he pushes in, he's the one that makes a noise. You're tight as hell, and just wet enough to slip in, but not too much to be sloppy. Christ, you squeeze him like you're trying to kill him.

This is when you wake up. If the state you're in can even be considered consciousness. You feel like you're dreaming, but you fight Leon off anyways. Or try to. The way you push at him is pretty cute honestly. Similarly to how a kitten plays with a piece of string.

"Leon! Stop… it hurts…"

Your smaller hands push at his clothed chest, and he easily catches both of them in one of his larger hands. Sure, you wanted to be raped, but now that you are, you're scared. The fear in your eyes is laughable.

"Thought you wanted this," he mumbles out, struggling to push into your tight walls. You bleed a little, which helps him slide in. Leon's used to blood on his hands, or really everywhere. But never his dick.

Now you're crying. You feel stupid, incredibly so. But Leon's only focusing on the bounce of your tits and stomach, the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"I did!" You hiccup. Your hands still push at his own, despite the fact he's got you pinned and straddled. "I- I don't know!"

Your sobs subside as you focus more on the feeling. The pain is still there, of course, you haven't had dick in years. But it feels good in the same way that popping pimples does or sticking safety pins in your fingers.

Even in sex, you're self destructive. You stop fighting, even starting to enjoy it a little. With the melatonin still in your system, you drift in and out of sleep, which probably helps your case. Leon's thrusts are a little too rough to take fully conscious.

"There we go," he says, speeding up. He's taken to a rhythm that feels good for him, and if you like it too, that's fine. He'll hate himself afterwards either way.

Leon grabs your chin, squishing your chubby cheeks between his fingers. He lets go of your hands, which fumble for his shirt, but not to push him off this time. You're pulling him in even closer. Wiping the tears off your cheeks, the older man smiles down at you. It's sadistic, but a smile nonetheless.

"Good sluts take what they're given, yeah?"

You whine, nodding dumbly. Your tongue feels numb in your mouth and your pussy feels sore. In a way that you probably shouldn't like. Leon's fucking you in a way that will probably cause you to book an appointment with a pelvic floor therapist.

He grunts, and your eyes go all starry. Leon ignores the stupid look you're giving him, splaying his hands on your fat thighs, spreading them further. He's close.

Maybe fifteen years ago, he'd be able to last longer or be kinder to you. But the squeeze of your cunt and soft, slick noises are driving him crazy. Crazier than he has to be to do something like this.

He's about to tell you of the predicament, figuring you'd be relieved. But you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush with yours. The pain of his dick hitting your cervix makes you a little nauseous, but you're sick enough to like the sting. Your head is thrown back in a moan as he cums inside of you.

For a moment, Leon feels like he's actually fucking someone he cares about, not just some slut he drugged at a bar. There's a sense of normalcy as his brain goes fuzzy with the orgasm. Your tight pussy makes him cum so hard he sees stars. Something that hasn't happened in years.

But when he comes down, slumping on top of you and breathing heavily, he realizes what he's done. Leon rolls over to the other side of the bed, giving you more than enough space. You're falling back asleep already when the post nut clarity hits him like a truck.

He almost cries, even if he's not the one that is currently bleeding onto his sheets from being treated so roughly. There's even slight bruises on your jaw and hips from where he'd been grabbing you all night. Feels like the night he planned to kill himself all over again. That time he had Sherry to keep him alive, but now she's all grown up and better off without him.

You mumble something in your sleep, causing Leon to turn his head to look at you. He didn't even have the patience to undress you fully; your tits are haphazardly pulled out of your shirt, and your skirt is bunched up around your hips. He didn't even look close enough at your body, the way you deserve. The way he can't give you.

God, he's an asshole.

Or probably even worse than that.

Leon watches you sleep. You're not the prettiest, or the most confident, but now he's stuck with you. Trapped the way he is with his job. In a strange way, he feels connected to you. Not in a love way, but in the way that the bruises on your jaw are in the shape of his fingers. Not anyone else's.

Maybe he won't end it tonight. Maybe he'll stay alive another day. Since he roughed you up so badly, and you're still living. Even if you're leaking a mixture of cum and blood on his sheets. Stupid thing, did nobody teach you to pee after sex? But Leon's not going to wake you. He's probably not even going to get up, either. You'll have matching UTI's and be stuck even closer in this fucked up spiderweb he's created between the two of you.

Sometime past five in the morning is when Leon falls asleep. Surprisingly, he's been given a decent vacation after his last screw up. God knows how long that'll last.

When he wakes up, blinding light filtering in through his dusty apartment, the first thing he sees is you. You're laying on his chest, still barely dressed. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you're drooling a little on his shirt.

He's not even considerate enough to try not to wake you, shoving you to the side so he can go pee. You fall to the side, blinking slowly as you wake up.

"Where are you going?" You ask, voice scratchy from sleep and all the crying you did last night. Screaming, too.

Leon can't even look at you. He's still stuck in that state of realization. Because now he knows what he is. Before, he was the golden boy, the president's favorite. But now he's a rapist and overall a big splotch of a mistake.

"Gotta piss," he grumbles, already halfway in the bathroom. You watch him curiously, as if you want to come in. Leon immediately shuts the door, a bit too harshly.

He stays in the bathroom too long. Your blood and other fluids dried on his dick and pelvis, which he only cleans off because it's itchy. But also because he doesn't really want to be reminded of what he did. Leon wishes he could clean off last night like the dried blood on his skin.

But he knows he can't.

Once he's done, he stumbles into the kitchen, planning on downing a bottle of whiskey for breakfast. Or lunch. It's already past noon.

Leon's plan comes to a screeching halt as he smells food cooking. You're fully dressed again, albeit, without underwear.

All of the guilt he's been feeling all night can't compare to the absolute misery he feels watching you.

The girl he raped last night.

You're cooking breakfast for him, like a little housewife.

The fact that you're not crying even hurts more. You're humming softly, poking around some bacon in a pan with a spatula. Somehow, you found something to cook for him, though he's been living off of takeout and microwave meals for about a week now.

After a few minutes of staring is when you notice that Leon is there. You turn, confirming the fact that you're cooking for him.

"Hey," you're smiling at him, bright doe eyes and rosy cheeks. "I just wanted to say thanks for last night."

God. What the hell has he done?

[drdemonprince]

I've noticed a pattern in anticapitalist books I read (specifically I'm talking abt Mark Fisher here, in Capitalist Realism). They do this great anticapitalist analysis etc and then go on to critique their students? and sometimes it's a bit ableist? it's like all the critical thought goes out of the window and they cannot understand the situation because for once suddenly they are in the authoritative position. It always gives me this "I don't understand these kids, back in my day-" vibe, and I see this with lecturers at university too. like Mark Fisher maybe we can think outside the box about your student who "needs" headphones to focus in class "even though no music is playing". and maybe it's not to do with the "Matrix"(????) I'm well aware this was written in 2008 but it's weird that I see this pattern continue today. Not to mention Mark Fisher took part in some ableist studies, and was a guy with questionable intentions on occasion.

it's like you Just said that reducing labour is good why are you calling your students lazy, that's so unprofessional and privileged. I wonder of coincidence that he is anti-meds when his right wing, pro-eugenics, accelerationist friend was addicted to amphetamines.

Or even just the amount of people who have written books about laziness and anticapitalism (excluding you) and just saying the most contradictory shit ever?? or not following their own ideology???

Anyway, I wonder if, when writing Laziness Does Not Exist, you came across any of this and were equally as baffled.

Materialism is just *so* true that high-status academics don't have a vested class interest in seeing their student struggles as legitimate or in recognizing the struggles of disabled people in general. For many edgy academic leftists having the correct opinions is just a way to flex one's intellectual status, not a lived experience they give a shit about. I'm not shitting Fisher in particular in saying this, it's more that it's a really widespread problem in the culture of these kinds of (very white, very academic, very cishet) leftists communities. You see the same kind of thing among some of the Chapo stan types, too, you don't have to be specifically an academic to do it -- lots of people throwing around the r-slur and flexing on how much they have read and doing fuck all for the oppressed people around them. I tend to find it especially common among people who inherited leftism from their (often academic) parents? Whereas leftist communities populated by Black & brown anarchists and working class people tend to fare a lot better in this particular respect.

Note that I'm not saying a person's identities are a guarantee of them being any more radical -- there's lots of liberals lurking in our midsts of all identities for instance -- more that someone's orientation toward power tells you a lot. and unfortunately there is an approach to leftism that puts a lot of stock in either institutional power via the academy, or in a kind of soft power of intellectual authoritativeness that tends to punish anyone who is supposedly less well read, less intelligent, lazy, needs disability accommodations, has trauma triggers, or what have you.

The simple answer is that power and privilege obscures other people's challenges from you, and the desire to preserve one's power (be it actually institutional academic authority or just the status of the person who supposedly knows the most in the room) leads to a lot of oppressive behavior. a lot of these guys that you're talking about believe in communism sincerely but they don't have humility, they believe themselves to be superior to most everyone else. and they tend to be white guys from wealthy families who either do not have any disabilities of their own, or they have the undiagnosed intj mastermind rational flavor of autism that makes you feel incredibly alienated from others but interpret that alienation as a sign of your intellectual superiority. (i had this type but i got better. a little)

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (Yandere Android Sunwoo) 4.2k, yandere, androids, abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, assault, fighting, prejudice, manipulation, detroit become human au (@starillusion13)

“Are you alright?”

It always pained you to see an android being mistreated in public. The laws that were put in place to give androids freedom and rights didn’t stop people from being rude and aggressive towards them. If anything it seems like it made matters worse. As you were heading home from grocery shopping you saw a handful of people crowding around another. It was hard to tell whether or not someone was an android as they blended in perfectly, but one good hit could disrupt the outer skin and reveal the white plastic underneath, even if only for a moment. Regardless, you couldn’t just walk away from someone in need.

You shoved yourself in between the troublemakers and the person being assaulted. This wasn’t the first time you had been in this situation, so getting a slap across the face was expected. It confirmed to those bastards you were human, and they weren’t gonna hurt you further because of that. Of course they just changed their tactic and started calling you names, and saying you were a pathetic android lover. You didn’t care for any of it, to you androids were living beings just like humans and deserved respect. You ignored the yelling and helped the other get away from the scene and into a more crowded area. Once you were in a better place you checked on them, examining them for any injuries.

“They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?”

The android didn’t say anything, just stared at you with wide eyes and disbelief. They slowly reached up to touch your cheek, making you wince a bit from the sting.

“Why did you do that? You got hurt…”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“Used to it? How come?”

“I see your people getting hurt too often and I can’t just ignore it.”

“You’re very kind.”

“Are you alright though, really? I don’t know much about androids but-”

“I’m okay. I can take a hit.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Neither should you.”

“I suppose so. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Sunwoo. What about you?”

“Y/n.”

“It’s beautiful. I need to repay you for today.”

“No, no, you don’t-”

“I insist.” Without asking Sunwoo took your grocery bags, giving you a smile. “Where are we going?”

“It’s okay you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to, please.”

“Alright. I’m just heading home.”

“Then lead the way.”

Sunwoo walked with you back to your apartment building, making conversation. You talked about your job, which was part time as you were also a student at the nearby university. You were fortunate enough to be on scholarship and had some money from your parents that helped you with the apartment. All the other living costs were on you. As for Sunwoo, he was in and out of work, which you knew was common for many androids. They had to identify themselves in order to work, and people still held onto prejudice. 

“Thank you very much. You can set the bags on the kitchen table.”

Sunwoo insisted on helping you to the very end, so you let him into your apartment. He set down your groceries and curiously looked around, saying that your place was cozy. He kept talking with you as you were in your room, unpacking your things.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yeah. This place is really only meant for one, and I’m fortunate that I can afford it.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“At times, but I’m alright.”

“Can I ask… I know you said something about this earlier…” Sunwoo came over to the room. “But… why do you help out other androids? Most humans hate us…”

“It’s honestly so unfair and stupid. You’ve done nothing wrong.  To me there’s not much of a difference between humans and androids. We all just want to live our lives, don’t we?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice to know that there are some good humans around.”

“Believe me, there are.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being yourself.”

“Huh? What does that-”

As you turned around you found Sunwoo standing before you, startling you. Although you couldn’t ponder too much as a white hand was reaching for your face, and then your world cut to black.

🖤

You whimpered and rolled over in bed, hearing some faint knocking. You thought maybe you were imagining things, but the knocking persisted. You sighed and got up, stretching your arms and getting out of bed. As you opened the door you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Morning, Eric…” You smiled. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I was trying to call you. We were supposed to go out for breakfast this morning, remember?”

“Were we?”

“Y/n, is it gonna be breakfast for two?”

You looked back to see Sunwoo peeking out from the kitchen, holding a spatula. He waved at Eric with a smile.

“Hello.”

“Who’s that?” Eric questioned.

“That’s Sunwoo, my roommate.”

“What? Since when do you have a roommate?”

“It’s been a while now.”

“What do you mean? I was here like yesterday, and you’ve told me that you’re alright financially.”

“Oh I don’t help with money.” Sunwoo chimed in, coming over to the door. “I help with apartment maintenance and other stuff to make things easier for y/n.”

“Other…? Wait, are you… an android?”

“Yup.”

“Y/n, what the fuck!?”

“Excuse me?” You questioned. “Eric, you-”

“Why is there an android here?”

Eric made his way inside the apartment, shoving the android away from you. The last thing you wanted was a fight so you quickly got in between them, placing your hands on Eric’s chest and making him step back

“Eric, what is your problem? I didn’t think you had an issue with androids.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Can we talk?” Eric glared at the android. “In private.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a second.”

Eric stepped out of the apartment and you closed the door, taking a moment to catch your breath. You turned back to Sunwoo, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry about that, I had no idea he would act that way.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“Still. I’m gonna talk to him. So I’ll be right back.”

“Do you have to?”

“Hm?”

“If he was like that to me… I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“Eric is usually a sweet guy. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

Sunwoo still didn’t like the idea, but he couldn’t convince you otherwise. You quickly went to change into some more proper clothes and stepped out into the hall to meet Eric. Before you could say anything he grabbed your arm and dragged you down the hall towards the stairwell.

“Eric, stop, you said you wanted to talk.”

“Away from that android.”

“Eric!”

You pulled yourself free and stayed where you were, right in the middle of the stairs. Thankfully it was early in the day, and you probably wouldn’t be disturbing anyone.

“What is going on with you?”

“Why do you have an android living with you?”

“What’s the problem with that? Not to mention the way you treated him was unacceptable.”

“Why do you have an android?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Cause it does! If you needed a roommate I could have moved in.” Eric sighed. “Look, I know you care about androids, but you can’t just have one living with you.”

“Why? Since when are you some sort of expert on human-android relations?”

“I’m not, but you know a lot of people don’t like androids. If you have one close to you like that, they’re gonna get the wrong idea.”

“Like you?”

“Y/n, please.”

“What do you want here?”

“I want that android to leave.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Sunwoo’s not gonna hurt me or anything.”

“Y/n, I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with an android.”

“I’m fine. Besides, I like the company…”

“Then I’ll move in.”

“You’re a full time student, and moving here would create a long commute. I’m also not accepting roommates.”

“But you’ll take in an android? How did you two even meet?”

“I just ran into him one day and-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“He was being harassed by some people so I stepped in.”

“Y/n!”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“This is exactly why I don’t want an android staying with you. You’re too kind, and they’re taking advantage of that.”

“No he’s not. I offered to have him stay with me.”

“Y/n-”

“I don’t want to hear anymore about this.” You stated. “I don’t even wanna see you right now, so just go.”

“But-”

“Think about your attitude today, and let me know when you’re ready to apologize.”

You didn’t let Eric say anything more as you made your way back to your apartment. Eric still couldn’t believe what had happened, but he certainly needed to take a new approach.

“It’s Eric, right?”

As Eric stepped out of the building he heard someone call his name. He turned back to see the android from your apartment leaning against the wall by the entrance.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I just wanted to tell you not to show up unannounced.”

“And why’s that?” Eric walked up to the android. “You got a problem with me?”

“No. I just want to be able to properly accommodate you when you come by, and I can’t do that if you show up randomly.”

“What are your intentions here?”

“Me?”

“Why did you move in with y/n?”

“Does it bother you?”

“Yes, and I’d prefer it if you moved out.”

“Well I prefer to be in the presence of someone like her. Someone who doesn’t care that my blood is blue. She’s kind, and I want her to be happy.”

“She won’t be as long as you’re around her.”

“We’ll see.”

🖤

When you got back to your apartment you took a breath. That was a very exciting way to wake up. You went over to your room, throwing yourself onto the bed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to move past what just happened. A while later you heard a knock on your door. You peeked your eyes open seeing Sunwoo walking in.

“Did you fall back asleep?”

“Hm… I think so…”

“Well, do you want breakfast, or should I save it for later?”

“No, no, no, I’m coming.”

“Alright then, let me help you.”

Sunwoo helped you sit up, smiling at you cutely. He was quite adorable, and you smiled back. Although it faltered a bit as you remembered how Eric treated him.

“Sorry… about my friend…”

“You mean Eric?”

“Yeah… he’s just worried.”

“I understand. It really wasn’t that long ago that my people were on the streets protesting.”

“But that’s in the past, and you aren’t looking for trouble. Humans and androids have coexisted for a long time, and now we’re equals, as it should be. That shouldn’t cause tension between us.”

“You’re really extraordinary.”

“No, I’m just an average girl.”

“A wonderful one.”

You had no trouble getting along with Suwoo, appreciating all the things he did for you. He walked with you to uni, and was there to escort you to your part-time job as well. You rarely walk alone anymore. Besides you there was a lot for Sunwoo to discover. He was in between jobs at the moment, but he was very eager to learn more about the world. He knew many things but there were still a lot of unknowns to him. One of the things he was very interested in was film and TV. The stories that would be told, and the messages to convey. You were more than happy to sit with him and indulge, sharing your favorite shows and movies.

There was so much else you wanted him to see, but there was some difficulty. Many places didn’t like having androids around. Sometimes you could get away with it since you were human and the assumption is that your partner is too. Of course that didn’t always work and you’d get strange looks thrown your way. Sunwoo never let any of that upset him, but he was certainly ready to swing if he thought someone posed a threat to you. That was rarely the case, and either way, you didn’t want him getting into a fight. If he got hurt you’d have to take care of him and you weren’t sure you knew how to help an android.

For the most part things were good between you and Sunwoo, and you grew close. He was an amazing friend and roommate. You felt that you could trust him with a lot of things, and he was always open to help you in any way he could. There was a lot he wanted to learn from you, and so he kept you busy. Because of that you had completely forgotten about Eric’s behavior that day, and the fact you hadn’t heard from him since. It seemed like you may have lost him as a friend, but you were mistaken. As you were heading off campus with Sunwoo someone suddenly came up from behind and shoved him to the ground.

“What the- Eric! What are you doing?”

“Has it touched you?”

“Huh? What?”

“Do you know what type of android that is?”

“Eric, you’re not making any sense.”

You wanted to help Sunwoo to his feet, make sure he was alright, but Eric held you back. He tried to pull you away from the scene but you stayed put.

“Eric!”

“He’s a fucken sex android!”

“What?”

“That’s an HR400 model, a sex android. No wonder it latched onto you.”

“What does that have to do with anything? And what does it matter what type of android he is? You’ve been so fucken hostile since you met him.”

“Androids hate us just as much as we do, so it’s with you for some ulterior motive!”

“Sunwoo is not like that! We met randomly and got along, you think he planned this out?”

“Maybe, and you’re just the one who took the bait.”

“My gosh, Eric, do you even hear yourself? You’re talking crazy.”

“Just listen to me.”

“No, I’ve heard enough of your ramblings. Just stay away from me.”

“Y/n, I-”

Before Eric could say anything more Sunwoo had gotten to his feet and threw a punch. Eric collapsed to the floor, spitting out some blood. Your eyes went wide, looking over to Sunwoo who merely grabbed your arm and started dragging you along. You tried to get yourself free, but his grip was a lot stronger.

“Sunwoo, stop! You can’t just-”

“He was gonna hurt you.”

“That’s not true, now let go!”

“We need to go home.”

“Sunwoo!”

“Ya!”

Eric ran over and tackled Sunwoo to the ground, the two starting to fight. You screamed at them to stop, but neither was listening. They attracted attention, and ultimately some police officers came to break up the fight. Of course the crowd that had gathered was well aware of the blood blue staining Sunwoo’s injuries. The officers asked if either of the two were gonna press charges, and you begged them not to. They ultimately agreed, and as soon as they were released Sunwoo grabbed you and started pulling you along.

“Sunwoo, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“There’s blood… don’t you need to go to a hospital or something?”

“I know where to go in order to repair myself.”

“Good. Let’s go there and talk.”

“No, you need to go home.”

“What?”

“That’s the only place I know you’ll be safe.”

“Safe? Sunwoo, I’m alright there’s-”

“I don’t trust that Eric guy not to hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

“And do you think his rambling is gonna stop? I have to protect you from people like him?”

“Like him? What does that mean?”

“Humans who don’t like androids. You shouldn’t associate with them.”

“Sunwoo, he’s not-”

“Look at me.”

Sunwoo stopped and turned around to face you. His sudden actions startled you and you took a step back. Red or blue, you didn’t like seeing blood on his face. Unlike humans, you could see a different type of vulnerability when an android was injured. The places that were injured revealed the white plastic underneath, making it very obvious he was hurt. You gently reached up to touch his cheek, seeing how bits of his outer skin glitched around the wound, especially when you touched it. Sunwoo’s eyes softened, the previous anger subsiding. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

“I’m sorry…”

“Eric may get on your nerves, but that’s not a good enough reason to hit him.”

“He was going to hurt you.”

“But you don’t know that, not really.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to protect me. I should be the one protecting you.”

“That’s gonna change. Things are gonna get better, I promise.”

“I’m sure they will.” You smiled. “Let’s go get you fixed up.”

“I can go by myself. I want you at home.”

“Sunwoo-”

“I don’t want you to see me… like that…”

“Okay. I understand.”

You walked with Sunwoo back to the apartment. You insisted on cleaning him up a bit, hoping he wouldn’t draw attention to himself as he would be out alone.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Not long, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll stay right here at home.”

“Good. When I get back, there’s somewhere I want to take you.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

You placed a bandaid over the cut on Sunwoo’s cheek and then grabbed the dirty rags to wash them off at the kitchen sink. You heard Sunwoo get up, figuring he’d be heading out now.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

You felt a presence behind you, and then there were arms around your waist. You yelled, meeting Sunwoo’s smiling face with your surprised one.

“Sunwoo…”

“Thank you.”

He leaned forward to place a kiss on your cheek. You immediately felt your face burning, suddenly embarrassed and shy. His smile didn’t change though.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Oh… okay…”

“Get some sleep.”

“Huh?”

You felt one of Sunwoo’s hands come up to your neck. A shiver went down your spine, feeling his cold fingers before your world suddenly faded to black.

🖤

Eric was far from happy with how things went down. That fucken android was seriously starting to piss him off. It would have been better if they both had gone to the station, but he didn’t want to upset you further. You were a good person, so he just needed to sit down and talk to you. After what happened you’d be more willing to hear him out anyway. Once the fight was over he noticed Sunwoo drag you away from the crowd, but he couldn’t just follow. He knew where you’d go so he made his way to your apartment.

As he approached the building he stopped and hid out of view. He saw that Sunwoo android leaving, wondering where he was headed too. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to follow him, but he would rather talk to you as it seems you’d be alone. Once he was sure the android was gone he made his way inside, going to your apartment. He knocked on the door, waiting for you to answer, but you didn’t. He tried again but there was no response. You might have guessed who was at the door and were avoiding him, but he wasn’t gonna waste this chance. He knew you hid a spare key along the top of the door so he grabbed it and let himself in, calling out to you.

“Y/n… it’s me, Eric. I just wanna talk. I’m really sorry about earlier, I know things got out of hand, so I came to explain myself.”

He got no answer. It was possible you were avoiding him, but the apartment was too quiet for that. It was possible he was wrong and you weren’t here, but he wasn’t so sure you would have gone to your job after what happened. Then again Sunwoo had left the building, so maybe you really weren’t here. That seemed to be the case so he figured he’d leave a note in your room and come by later. Although when he stepped in he saw you were tucked in bed, sleeping.

“Y/n.”

He went over to you and started shaking you, but you didn’t wake. He never knew you to be a deep sleeper.

“Y/n, wake up.”

This was frustrating him so he reached over to gently slap your face, noticing an LED on your head.

“What the…”

Without thinking he reached for it and took it off of you. It was just like the LED androids used to wear, except you weren’t an android. For a moment there was doubt in his mind, but then he reminded himself that he had known you way before androids were even a thing, and he had watched you grow. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard you groan, turning over in bed and slowly opening your eyes.

“Eric…? What are you doing here…”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Hm… wait… but how… did you get in…”

“Sorry, I used your spare key.”

“Rude…”

“Look, let’s get out of here and go talk somewhere.”

“Why…”

“Cause I don’t trust this place anymore, or that android.”

“Again with this… just go… you’ve done enough…”

“Y/n, get up.”

Eric grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit up. He was trying to get you out of bed but you sleepily pushed him away.

“Eric, I really can’t with you anymore.”

“Listen to me, I’m right, something is off.”

“Eric-”

“What is this?” He held up the LED. “I couldn’t get you to wake up until I took this off of you.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me what this is.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Exactly.”

“Eric, that doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Then let’s go find out, I know a guy.”

Despite your wishes Eric pulled you out of bed. You stumbled along behind him, heading towards the door. You tried to get him to let go, although you both suddenly came to a stop as the door opened and Sunwoo walked in.

“What’s going on here?” Sunwoo questioned. “Who let you in?”

“We’re gonna talk, so don’t mind us.” Eric stated.

“But I do mind. I’m not gonna leave y/n alone with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Let her go and get out.”

“This isn’t your place.”

“It is. Now leave.”

“Don’t fight again.” You pleaded. “I don’t want you to hurt each other.”

“I don’t trust him.” Eric said. “Not with you.”

“He’s done nothing wrong.”

“You sure?”

Eric threw the LED at Sunwoo’s feet. Sunwoo looked down at it and then picked it up. His expression gave nothing away, but there was something in his eyes when he looked at Eric.

“I knew you broke in.”

“What is that? Why was-”

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but I don’t mind at all.”

Sunwoo charged at Eric, tackling him to the ground. You moved aside, stumbling in your steps and falling to your hands and knees.

“Stop it!”

Sunwoo threw a few punches, landing right on Eric’s face. Neither was fully recovered from the previous fight. Those few hits really messed up Eric, so Sunwoo got up and came over to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you fighting? There’s no reason-”

“I don’t like him. He’s no friend of ours.”

“Sunwoo.”

“It’s gonna be okay. I’m going to take you to a place where we can live in peace.”

“What?”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Sunwoo… I…”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of everything. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Sunwoo.”

Eric groaned and got up on his elbows, looking over at you and Sunwoo. His vision was a bit blurry, but he could see as Sunwoo reached over to caress your cheek. Then his hand turned white and reached behind your back. For a moment your eyes went wide before you passed out. Sunwoo caught you and gently laid you down.

“What… what did you do… to her…”

“Just a precaution.” Sunwoo admitted, his fingers gliding over your cheeks. “She may not be like me, but I still have to take care of her.”

“So I was right…”

“Hardly. Good people like her deserve better.”

Sunwoo placed that LED back on your head, pulling out his phone afterwards and making a call. He walked over to Eric and placed his foot on his chest, keeping him pinned.

“Hey, it’s me, change of plans. I need to head out tonight, can you get it ready?”

“The hell…”

“Good, I’ll see you then.” Sunwoo hung up the call and looked down at Eric. “You could be saved. You’re not one of the irredeemable ones. I’ll put in a good word for you, but you have to do the rest.”

Sunwoo went over to pick you up in his arms, smiling as you subconsciously snuggled against him.

“I’ll find you.” Eric spat. “I swear it.”

“You won’t.”

[katuschka]

Scene One – Lampshade

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader (1st person narrative)

2.541 words

On my bedside table, I have a beautiful art deco lamp. When my lover leaves, he ties a scarf he wore for days on top. And when he’s gone I let my window open just a bit, the gentle breeze sets the scarf on motion, just like the waves in the tempestuous ocean.  Once or twice, I swear, I could smell him in my dreams.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: longing, alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, phone sex and masturbation, sex toys, phantasmagorical dream visions

Taglist

It’s been almost three weeks since I last saw him. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not that bad, but the truth is that I always start missing him the moment he leaves. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’m a grown, independent woman, engaging in my daily routines...or breaking them, just to stay sane. 

But, it feels as if a part of my soul got attached to him. It travels with him wherever he goes and I feel it tugging at my insides every now and then. At first I thought it was just a side effect of the early stages of falling in love. I believed that it would get easier with time, but it never did. If anything, it only got worse. 

It’s bearable during the day. My mind’s too preoccupied with my job, thank god. It’s not really much different from when he’s here. I still have my work to do and he’s busy too, until we finally meet at home to share a glass of wine or two. And then we fuck.

That’s why early evenings are the worst when he’s away. The house is just too big, too quiet, and my mind too restless. No sound of the strings being plucked greets me when I get home, no smell of savory dishes waiting for me in the oven or on the stove. I’m too lazy to do it myself, so I just order in, only to be reproached by him later that I’m not taking proper care of myself. My lover does all these things. My body’s spoiled with constant hugs and my cheeks peppered with warm kisses. So, on days like these, this is what his lady misses. 

He knows that, so he tries to call anytime he can. It’s easier in between shows. He makes sure to call me around eight, even when it’s already 3 am where he’s at. Him being a night owl, this has never been a problem. Sometimes it’s just a quick hello to make sure I’m ok. Other times we talk for hours. 

I didn’t expect anything like that today. He might call late or not at all. Probably not at all because today’s show was too important. He wanted me there, but I couldn’t go this time. I had an important project to finish and came home pleasantly exhausted. In a perfect world, we would celebrate our respective achievements together, but this world is not perfect, so I have to content myself with the fact that he is. 

Well, not really, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him. 

So, I just poured myself a glass of wine, climbed in bed early and tried to read, only to find myself checking the Instagram updates constantly. I don’t do it very often, because I’m not really keen on seeing hundreds of women swooning over him, but someone might be streaming the show, and I just couldn’t miss it. 

Before he left, he fastened his scarf on my lampshade. That little piece of fabric is basically marinated in his scent – his strong, yet religiously comforting cologne mixed with the warm smell of him. I made sure to leave both the bedroom door and the window open, to create a slight draft. After three weeks, the scent had already faded a bit, but I still could get whiffs of him while falling asleep. Just like today. The livestream I found ended mid-show, but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy long before the concert ended and without even bothering to turn off the light, I fell asleep with my phone still in my hand. 

Except I couldn’t sleep. The thunderstorm in the distance and the billowing wind kept me awake. The sky was clear when I went to bed, so I couldn’t understand where the clouds came from. It didn’t matter anyway. 

He was here. In my bed, sleeping. The intoxicating scent of clove and incense mixed with his musk wrapped around me like a second comfort blanket. The bedside lamp illuminated his disheveled hair and the clothes he had carelessly thrown over the armchair next to the bed. He was naked and all of the sudden, so was I.

It was our bedroom…and it wasn’t. The southern wall was gone, exposing us to the elements outside. Our garden turned to a stony shore, with the waves of a rough sea crashing upon it. Somewhere in the distance, I could see the storm raging.

I was feeling snug under the blanket, the warmth he elicited sheltering me from everything else around. I reached out to touch him. His skin was warm and dry and I snuggled closer to him from behind, inhaling the comforting aroma of his relaxed, sleeping body. 

He never slept much. Sometimes I wondered how he could function after yet another sleepless night, and the dark circles under his eyes often worried me. But when he did fall asleep, he looked like a baby boy, his full lips slightly parted and his brows turned upwards. A man of paradoxes. He would fuck my brains out just moments after he spoon-fed me pistachio ice-cream. My doe-eyed barbarian. A romantic adventure, but a reptile too. Always offering something new. Just like the sky outside, with the full moon now illuminating the stormy sky. Where did it come from? It was hanging there in mid-air in front of the clouds, so big, so close it seemed that I could reach it with my fingers if I just stepped outside of the room. 

But I didn’t want to. Instead, I slowly swirled around him like a serpent. I could feel him stir, his body responding to mine. It was a silent dialogue. He turned to me and pushed my chin upwards to nuzzle the soft skin behind my left earlobe. I could hear him murmur a prayer, the words of which I didn’t recognize, but I understood it anyway. I could feel his hand travel slowly down my belly, pulling my thighs apart, his palm sliding gently to my pussy and his middle finger slipping in between my folds. It’s been too long… My body reacted immediately. I arched my back and gasped for air as his moistened fingertip glided over my clit in slow circles. He kissed my shoulder and I could feel his parted lips stretch in a smile before he nibbled lightly on my skin covered with goosebumps.

He spread my thighs even more, like the petals of a blooming flower. I felt the weight of his body on mine as he shifted, obscuring my view, silencing the wind, his porcelain face dimming all the celestial lights behind him. He was coming home. 

I cried out when he entered me, grabbing pillows on both sides of my head. He, too, yelped like a puppy, laying his head on my bosom just for a while, to gain his composure. I felt every exhale of his quickened breath on my skin, and enveloped his body with my limbs in a false promise to never let go. 

He started moving inside me and I felt absolutely lightheaded, as if we were floating in an empty void. It got darker with each deep, long thrust until time and space around us disappeared and the only thing that tethered me to reality was the rhythm of his beating heart and the alluring sounds of his raspy moans. We moved together languidly, drunk in love, and the waves of pleasure running through my body intensified with each passing second. My fingernails dug into his skin…so deep until he suddenly stiffened and screamed in pain right next to left ear…

…nooo…at first I couldn’t tell where I was or who I was until the sound of my phone ringing on the pillow next to my head slowly brought me back to reality. I couldn’t believe it. What? Why? I looked at the screen and saw the name of the only person whom I could forgive for calling me right fucking now!

“Jake? Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I breathed out. 

A moment of silence before the man on the other side responded. I must have sounded pre-t-t-y irritated. “Babe? Did I wake you up?” 

Of course you did. What day is it? Oh yeah, it was slowly coming back to me. Madison Square Garden… “What time is it?” I breathed out.

“Almost one am here, your midnight. We just arrived at the hotel a moment ago, I haven’t even had a shower yet, I just had to hear…”

“Urgh,” I interrupted him with a groan, not in a reaction to what he said. My still not fully awakened body was just fighting with my mind as I tried to sit. I was still slightly disoriented and my coochie weeped. “I, uhm, I’m sorry baby. I just had a very intense erotic dream…the first one in years. And you just happened to interrupt it at the worst possible moment.”

“Oh, daamn!” he chuckled. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Not funny Jake. No one else but you could ever make me this wet. The sheets below me are literally soaked through.” I heard him inhale sharply on the other side. It took him a few more seconds to respond. “You’re wet?” It sounded a bit like a stifled groan, followed by him clearing his throat. Poor Jake, he was so taken aback by my response that Oliver had to take over. “Thaths probably because I was absolu-te-ly on fire tonight, my love! Telepathy must be one of my many superior powers. Now I need to clean the mess…”

“What do you mean?”

“Phone sex, obviously.” 

I laughed. Nah, I’m not a fan. I love his voice, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t possibly make up for all the stuff that my subconsciousness flooded my brain with just a moment ago. Also, I’ve always found the idea of phone sex strangely disconcerting. We could do the most obscene stuff face to face without even batting an eye, but to be describing to him how I’m touching myself? No, thank you. I’d be embarrassed. Don’t know why. That’s just how it is, And that’s what I told him.  

“Oh come on, let’s try it.” Jake was back. “Besides, it’s a mutual obligation now. I’m already hard.” 

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok Jake,” I crooned monotonously, “what are you wearing?” 

“Oh GOD!” he moaned theatrically. “You sound so sexy when you’re bored. Mmmmm.”

I laughed again, in earnest. “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Ok, let’s try it. But I’m not going to describe what I’m doing. You tell me what to do.”

“Deal.”

I heard his sheets rustle as he shifted on his bed, which meant he already had me on speaker, so I did the same. I adjusted the pillows, stripped off my babydoll and tried to find a comfortable position. “Ok Jake, I’m ready.”

“Good girl. Now, close your eyes and cup your breasts. Let your thumbs draw slow circles around your nipples. No pressure.” His voice suddenly sounded huskier than before. 

“Are you jerking off?” And then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of his fist sliding rhythmically up and down his cock. Of course he was. 

“You can’t blame me sweetheart,” he breathed out. “I got here, still full of adrenaline from the show, only to hear you tell me that I was fucking you in your dreams. I couldn’t wait any longer.” 

The sound of his heavy breath made my pelvic muscles contract and my heartbeat quicken. I licked my fingertips and let my hand slide between my legs, trying to ease the ache. “Talk to me Jake. Forget the nipples. Guide my fingers.”

“Who’s impatient now?” He let out an involuntary moan, swallowed harshly and continued: “Squeeze your clit between two fingers, scissor-like. Now rub from side to side and gently pull.”

I knew what he meant. His technique was completely different from mine and effective in its own way. I never tried to recreate it before. I did now, and it all suddenly came back to me. The dream, his touch, his dick, stretching me, fucking me, our loins dancing together to the rhythm of our heartbeats…

“Not enough,” I whined. “I need more, Jake.”

“Ok, time for Mini Me.”

That was yet another thing my lover did for me. We found a company that makes custom dildos using castings of real customers. Now, a cold piece of silicone can never compete with the real jake, but it was the next best thing whenever I needed to release the tension after a long day. I loved the shape of it. It was mine. I opened the drawer and reached for the toy. “Now what?”

“Ride me,” he groaned. 

“How am I supp…”

“Let’s pretend we fell off the bed.”

“What?”

“Off the bed! Now!” he commanded. I climbed off the bed and attached the dildo to the wooden floor. “Mini Me’s ready. What now?”

“Now sit.”

I did as I was told. I got on my knees, placed the tip between my folds and slowly slid all the way down. Our roles reversed for a brief moment as I was now guiding him through. I heard him spit into his palm and groan with relief. It was his time to take the reins again. “Move,” he rasped. “Grab your hips and pretend it’s me. Set the pace, but tell me.”

I started moving my hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, while whispering up and down and up and down to him. I was now close to my bedside table, the fragrant scarf only a few feet from me. I closed my eyes. The illusion was almost perfect. 

“That’s my girl,” he moaned. “Do you want to go faster?”

“No, this is fine.”

“Ok, continue baby. Let me hear you.”

We continued like that for several minutes, eyes closed, listening to each other. I could hear that he was close as his low moans turned to high-pitched whimpers. My thighs started shaking and I had to catch hold of the bedside table to ease the tension in my legs. I opened my eyes and that’s when I saw it. The multi coloured lampshade. As I was moving, so were the colorful lights before my eyes. It was like being there, under the stage lights, as I was listening to my man. The most beautiful song. It overwhelmed my senses and I came, screaming. From the haze of my own high, I heard him finish shortly afterwards. 

I wanted to hear every detail of his show, and he wanted to know about my project, but we were both already too exhausted, so he promised to call me again in the morning. I knew he would, because that’s what my lover does. 

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @klarxtr @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @GVFstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise

[phonkscribes]

The Quiet Part of the Library

In which a little Vergil goes to the library to read as he does, only to find a little Reader there in his spot. Childish shenanigans ensue. Reader is gender neutral, & a little older and taller than baby verge. Headcanons to be released for the Reading Reader...

Enjoy

He usually came by himself to the library, when he wanted to escape his younger brother and find himself alone. The library was peaceful, quiet. The librarian was kind to him, and no one bothered him when he wanted to be left to the words scribed in the texts he’d pick up into his small hands. Opening the old hard covers to press his thumb along the pages, Vergil found comfort in reading the stanzas of the poems he indulged in, a part of him hearing his father’s voice in the back of his mind as he went about it. He was hoping to hear him again while Sparda remained absent from his and his brother’s life. The elder twin just didn’t anticipate seeing someone there in his usual spot. 

And that wouldn’t stand. 

Already he had to fight with his brother over his things since he just loved to steal and take what was his, but now his most cherished space? He wouldn’t be backing down, in fact, he’d make this person leave. This was his, and rightfully he would be fighting for it. You had a book of your own in your lap, held delicately and with care when you heard a whiny voice screech at you from above. A quick glance upwards showed you the source, a boy with silver hair and stark blue eyes. As blue as the sky. 

“Could you leave? This is my spot”, he had proclaimed to you, puffing his little chest out as he looked down at you. He had a sort of princely air to him, arrogant and demanding. So snooty. Who was he, and what right did he have to claim this area as his own? You furrowed your brow before closing your book, already marking where you had last left off. You were here first, and it’s always been first come, first serve. 

“No, I got here before you. You should just find some other place to read”, you replied before lifting your hand to shoo him away, like some kind of stray. 

Vergil couldn’t have been more offended by the gesture. If it were Dante, he could easily throw a punch or start fighting right here and right now, but he respected the library and what this place had become for him. He wouldn’t defile it over some petty little fight… and yet, he didn’t like that he was to be made to let some stranger sit where he liked to sit. One could suppose that it was the little devil in him wanting to protect his territory, or perhaps it’s the stubbornness a child has when they want something they can’t have. Either way, he refuses to budge, shaking his head to further express his point. 

“I’ve been here plenty of times before, and not once have I ever seen you. Leave now or else I’ll make you”, spoke the little prince. You could hardly believe it. You were three years his senior, but he was already pulling rank on you, what if he got the librarian involved? You didn’t want any trouble, especially one that could get you booted out of here, but you also didn’t like the way that he was talking to you. Especially when it felt like he was looking down on you, even when he was standing and you were sitting down. 

“So? I’ve been here plenty of times before too, why do I have to leave just because it’s your spot?”, you argued. Vergil frowned when you weren’t getting up to leave like he had asked you, his frustration visible as he took a step closer to you, threatening to take action directly. If he had to push you out, then he would. He didn’t want to share, but he hadn’t actually wanted to get physical. You could tell the librarian and then he’d get in trouble, and the thought of the librarian getting mad with him put a weight on his shoulders that he didn’t want to experience in full. 

The step that he took makes you tense up a little, pulling your knees into your chest as you glare up at him with all the indignance you could muster. You wanted this little boy to go away, to leave already. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to be so difficult? 

“...”, noticing the change in your body language, Vergil takes another step, smirking as he goes. 

Boys could be really mean, you knew this, but was he actually going to hurt you? Over staying in his spot? Jerk. Pursing your lips together, your own frustration leads you to standing up finally to leave. Fine, if he wanted this so badly, you’d just go somewhere else. You could always return whenever he’d leave. Vergil looks up at you as he sees just how much taller you are than him, and yet you didn’t think to use your height against him? Seeing you now, the smirk falls from his face as he watches you grit your jaw. 

“Fine, if you want it so bad then you can have it!”, you shove past him, since he was in your way. Walking hurriedly through the shelves, your fleeting form passes him by as he remains where he was, watching you go before huffing. About time… and as he walks over to sit where you once were, the victory doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would. It was warm where you were, not cold like it would’ve been had he arrived first. He had seen the wetness in your eyes just as you left. 

Dante didn’t cry when he would have his bouts with his brother, were you so weak that you couldn’t fight back? Clearly you were larger, and probably stronger too, so why didn’t you? As he looked down at his own book, the thought wouldn’t leave his mind. Why did he care? You were an obstacle in his path, and he simply had to move you to the side so that he could get what he wanted. A frown had formed on his face where a smile should’ve been now that he could finally begin to read. Instead of his father’s voice, he heard his mother’s, chastising him for not playing nice. 

If she had seen the scene unfold, she would’ve made him apologize or something of that sort. She was always telling him how he had to learn to play nice with others, that it would be important for him. Vergil sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before allowing the hand to run up to push back his silvery locks. He couldn’t read when this was sitting on his consciousness, it would bug him, and then his brother would poke at him about it which would lead to him confessing this to his mother at one point or another. How troublesome… what would father do? 

The right thing. 

And that… would be to apologize… but he didn’t do anything wrong! You were some stranger, a no body! What were the chances that he’d even see you again? He came here to read, not to socialize,he got enough of that done with his brother. He was rather tired of having to deal with Dante constantly, especially when his younger brother made it his mission to pester him daily. You weren’t as terrible as Dante, he supposed, you actually left and obeyed him after a bit of pushing. There comes that nagging feeling again as he reflects on it a little more. 

He couldn’t focus anymore, his concentration led astray as he glanced up ahead, annoyed with this predicament he had created for himself. Vergil could scarcely recall what he had read anyway. He’ll come to see you tomorrow, when he can muster up the words to say. As he got up to leave, he remembered your face again, the expression you made when he had successfully managed to chase you out. You were on the verge of tears, he hadn’t ever seen anyone look so upset before in his life, not even in drawings or in paintings around the manor. It only twisted at him some more. 

Where were you right now? Not crying, he’d hoped. That would be pathetic, and he’d rather not see you again while you were doing that. 

But you’d gone home by the time he had left, carrying your book with you and thinking about how much that instance irritated you. Your cheeks bloomed with color, flushed as you fumed about that stupid prince of a boy. Why didn’t you put up more of a fight? Why didn’t you do something? The questions come as you find yourself back home, to be answered when you were likely to see him again back in that place. No matter, you’d come earlier next time, so that he wouldn’t be there to usher you out. Next time, you’d be better prepared. 

And so the next time came for when you arrived back at that library, seated back in that very same spot. 

Another book was picked out, and your knees were pulled into your chest again as you poured over it within your lap, propped up and open by your hands. You enjoyed works of fiction, of derring-do tales with heroes and heroines, monsters slain by a hero with a sword. Currently, you were sitting on the part where the hero meets with the antagonist for the first time, their meeting having been alluded to in the first chapter. Your eyes were blown wide in anticipation, holding onto every word as they began to fight, brushing their swords together… when a shadow draped itself over you again. You hadn’t noticed it– him–, until he had cleared his throat to get your attention. 

How long has it been? You had lost track of time while drifting amongst the pages…

“You again…”, you glanced up as he spoke, letting your eyes sit on him for a moment. 

He seemed lost, unsure of what to say until you relinquished your hold to return back to your book. Were the two of you within the scene right now, you’re sure that the characters of this story would’ve much disliked this interruption as well. Things were just getting good too! The boy gathers himself again before he resumes his train of thought. 

“What are you doing here?”, he asks. In my spot. 

Who ever decided that it was his spot? Did the librarian permit this? 

You ignore him, picking up on the sentence you had last read. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint this time and leave you be. If you could ignore him for long enough, then maybe he’d go away on his own. That’s what you had hoped would happen. The little prince glared as you pointedly ignored him. He didn’t want to say that, he didn’t mean to have asked you that as it was blatantly obvious, but the words had tumbled out before he knew what he was saying. Why had you returned here, knowing that this area belonged to him? 

“I know you heard me”, he says, his brow furrowing as you go on about your story. 

Right now, the hero and the villain were having an intense moment, a speech about ideals being traded amongst the other. The hero was in the right, they always were, but the villain was telling him about how he needed to get stronger. That he could not ever hope to defeat him if he didn’t seek to do the same; that he would never be bested if he didn’t have the strength to do so. The hero had lost in the end, but his fight was far from over. Your gaze softens, the story would be over too soon if the hero had won, but you were looking forward to the antagonist losing the battle. You turn the page to see what happens next, but you don’t get that chance as the book is torn from your hands. 

“Hey!”, you look up to him finally. 

He looks just as smug as he had on that day, where the two of you met. He held it back and away from you, smirking as he went. This was something that he was so used to having happened to him, the feeling of doing it to another was inexplicably rewarding. Holding this over you gave him a sense of power, and as you sit there powerless, he takes a moment to glance at the cover. It’s different from what he would typically read, not that it was any less interesting. 

“Give that back!”, you got up again to reach for it, only for him to take a step back with it still in his reach. Your movements are sluggish, hesitant. Could it be this is your first time ever having to fight for anything? Vergil scoffs. 

“If you want it… then you’ll have to take it”, but you already knew that. 

You make a face, and he expects you to play into his game. 

You just wanted to read in peace, just as he did, but now things have ended up like this. Your height isn’t so daunting as the motivated look behind your eyes. You meet him finally, hands balled up at either side, before you swiftly lift your leg. You didn’t want to have to resort to violence, but it was clear to you that he wouldn’t have listened to parley. Fully expecting him to gasp and fall to the floor in a heap, you’re disturbed to find that he only staggers somewhat, more taken back that you would actually hit him rather than the pain that comes with that delicate area. He looks surprised, but his guard is lowered for just a moment, long enough for you to take your book back. It comes out with ease as you take a step back, away from him with your eyes held wide and alert. 

He looks like he means to stop you, reaching to you as you leave him again, hurriedly at that this time. It isn’t how he had planned for things to go. He was going to apologize, he was, but then you looked at him and he lost it. Vergil grunts as he punches the side of a shelf with his tiny fist. He’ll find you again, upon your next meeting, he won’t be burdened by the guilt he thought he had for you. The library was a place for him to leave that sort of thing behind, so that he might have peace of mind. How is that you’re tearing that a part for him too? 

He’s too curious to drop it, and too curious to leave it be and to find another spot to read. He wants to see you again, to let you have it. He just hopes that he can keep you as a secret from his brother. Sparda knows that he’ll never let him hear the end of it. Vergil glances over his shoulder as he hears someone approach him from behind, thinking it to be you, only to see the librarian appear. At first, he thought that he might be in trouble, but the old man only asks if he’s alright after that little fight with his friend. 

Friend?! 

“We aren’t friends..! As if I’d ever be friends with– ugh…”, what is this feeling of nausea that’s hitting him suddenly? Is the thought of being that person’s friend truly so revolting? It couldn’t possibly have been from that kick to his groin. He’s not that weak… but he’ll have to try that move on Dante just to see. 

When Vergil eventually returns to the library within the next week, he happens across you again, just as you’re about to go to the spot that the two of you like. He liked it first, but he insists that you stole it. He can’t fathom you having been here before him. Your eyes met his, and his met yours. He stares longer, and for a second, he’s reminded of the warmth that he stole from you when you two first met. You don’t like having him stare at you so intently, so you’re the first to break eye contact. 

“... You can have it this time”, you state solemnly, not wanting to fight with this boy again. 

“No”, he finally says before he moves his eyes to the floor, “You… can stay this time. I won’t make you leave”, he tells you. 

“What? Why? I thought this was your spot?”, you’re about to argue but he grabs your hand and leads you along, dragging you a bit over to where you would ordinarily find yourself seated at. Why the sudden change of heart? Vergil doesn’t say anything to you as he expects you to sit down after you rightfully yank your hand out of his. He was being weird, not that he wasn’t weird already. But now he was being weirder than before, and twice as annoying. 

“We can read here together, I’m allowing this, since you won’t leave…”, he says, with some indignation. This boy reminds you of the villain of your story… the both of them act similarly in a way that you can’t place. Now you won’t be harassed while trying to read, but you don’t even know his name. You tell him yours first, and he seems confused at first. 

“That’s my name, so tell me yours”

Why would you want to know that? For a moment, he was sure that you would’ve been more satisfied that he was allowing you to take residence within his space, but now you’re inquiring about his name. Like the two of you could be friends… or something like that. 

“Vergil”, he says. 

“Like the poet?”, you ask, and then… right there, the idea strikes him as one that is possible. 

[easybrainrot34]

🖼️Lil Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons Pt 2🖼️

Woohoo part 2 baby!! Part 1 is right here! Some of these are modern!AU some of these are Regency era. As I said before I am truly a ✨slut✨ for this man. Hope y’all enjoy 😊

All r fluff and crack. Bonus Polin Headcanon ❤️

🎨= modern!AU

🎻= Renaissance era

🎨🎻= either

Also mentioned : Colin, Anthony, Kathony, Queer!Eloise, Gregory, and Polin

Ps, my ask and request r open :)

🎨 He went on a gap year before college to travel the world. He went kinda everywhere but he’s not one of those people that’s pretentious and has to talk about it all the time (no shade Colin, he’s more of an excited puppy about where he’s been anyway)

🎨 During cov!d he really honed in on his skills as an artist but also got really into skincare and hair care. Now he does a whole curly hair care routine because even though I can see him keeping his hair on the shorter side, he still likes it to have a little body.

🎨🎻 He would never admit it to Anthony (at least sober) but he wants the love that Kate and Anthony have for each other. He is such a hopeless romantic and I think he wants nothing more in this world than to find someone he feels he truly can’t live without.

🎻 Now we all know Benedict goes to balls more out of family obligation than actually wanting to, but I truly feel like once he’s married, he wants you to throw balls every season. He loves being able to show you off and what better setting them a ball with you as the person of honor. I also feel like he would enjoy throwing balls/parties for his more artistic, not part of the ton friends.

🎨 Now let’s say this is a modern AU where Eloise is a lesbian and our dear Ben is bisexual. I feel like when Eloise came out to him and said “I’m gay” he said, with no hesitation “you too?” I feel like the next day this man would just barge into her place with a gift bag full of Girl in Red, Chappell Roan, and Raneé Rapp albums, a pride flag, and a Carabiner. She would give him the “these are all stereotypes” lecture, but truly she appreciates it.

🎨🎻 I feel like he is very weak willed when it comes to his nieces and nephews. Like he is the favorite uncle, yes it took him bribing the kiddos, and yes he has no shame about it. He would stay firm with them (respecting the majority of set rules) but he will let them get away with small things. It will take him having his own kiddos to understand where everyone is coming from. (trust & believe that the siblings take their revenge)

🎨 He’s weak for a sundress. Weather it’s a cute little flower print, or a simple solid color, he just loves a little flowy sundress. I can’t explain it. It’s just this man’s weakness. (Btw this is what I mean when I say sundress, because apparently the Internet is having a debate about this right now lol)

🎻 Y’all remember when people were painting on each other’s bodies during Covid? Yeah he would do that. I feel like he would very much use u as a canvas during yall’s honeymoon. I feel like it would also end in a little ✨spicy time✨

🎨 While I can really see this man not giving a fck about whether he is fit or not I feel like as he starts to get a little bit older (late 30s early 40s) he would sign up for the gym. I feel like this will be a combination of him wanting to, but also Anthony, Colin, and Gregory would tease him about getting a “dad bod”. He knows though that you love it so he wouldn’t try to get too fit, just enough to be a little toned.

🎨🎻BONUS🎻🎨

He has such a fondness for Pen. This man is in her corner, if her and Colin get into a fight he automatically is taking her side. If he sees Cressida doing some shady sh!t he’s calling her out right then and there. I also feel once Colin and Pen announce their engagement, he would go to her and say “I’m sorry it took him so long to realize what we all knew” AHHH I JUST KNOW HE SHIPS POLIN!!!

[punchtothestars]

☆ Von Kaiser Headcanons ☆

(Because I truly do feel for this middle aged man who seems like he's slowly falling apart)

TW for mentions of death of a loved one and mental health struggles

He and Glass Joe have been in the WVBA for longer than anyone.

They have a close bond because of this. They've seen each other in their prime, and helped each other through some of their lowest points.

He yells a lot because he's a little hard of hearing. He doesn't always notice how loud he's being.

He has a lot of baggage from a strict, perfectionist upbringing. Mistakes were severely punished growing up, and even though harsh correction of his errors drove him to excel, he carries a LOT of untreated anxiety and stress.

This is why he's so hard on himself when he fails. His twitching and trembling are a physical manifestation of the stress he can't express.

He became a boxing teacher to give kids like he once was an outlet for self-improvement. Though he's stern, he tries to be gentler than his own instructors were.

He's the kind of person who, despite his intimidating aura, rarely ever gets truly angry. He probably yelled out of frustration at a troublesome student once in his life, and felt a huge amount of shame and guilt afterwards. Later on, he would call that kid to his office, apologize, and have a more productive talk.

His students look up to him and even with the occassional teasing, respect him greatly. Despite this, lately he's felt like he's been deteriorating with age. He wants to be strong for them, though.

He's tense a lot of the time without realizing it, so he often gets muscle cramps.

Believe it or not, he had a wife once, but sadly she passed away a little over a decade ago due to illness. When she was around, she would give him shoulder rubs to ease his pain. These days, it's Joe who does it sometimes - and, surprisingly, King Hippo.

Very rarely uses touch as a form of affection. He only lets those who he's close and comfortable enough with touch him, but his main forms of affection quality time and acts of service. Occasionally, words, too.

He wanted to have kids with his wife, but with her passing, he couldn't bring himself to find someone else for a long time. In the coming years, he may open his heart again, and adopt should he choose to have kids.

For now, though, he serves as a guardian figure and role model to his students.

Doesn't smile often, even when he's happy.

This is based on an adorable Animal Crossing comic someone made (i'll credit them when I remember) but: I like to think his students got him into Animal Crossing when it came out on the Switch.

Maybe they were playing it during free time and they let him have a go at it, and something about the gameplay loop and the relaxing vibe just captivated him.

He's not even much of a gamer - probably mostly plays shit like puzzle games or word games if anything - but he hops in for a few minutes every day on his Animal Crossing island to decompress.